The Chamber of Secrets

I ran the events through my head again, trying to bring as much sense from them as I could.

Something was controlling the basilisk—that much was certain. Snakes were smart, but the one defining trait of them was that they couldn't bloody-well write words on a wall with blood—they didn't have fingers. So I faced someone plus the basilisk. That wasn't a fun prospect.

Ron and Gilderoy (whose memory was now the equivalent of Swiss cheese) were waiting behind me on the other side of a cave-in.

Deeper, Ginny Weasley was—Uh. Alright, I didn't have all the answers, but I had enough that I could act. I was the hero, Ginny was the damsel in distress, and the basilisk was a dragon. I paused the train of thought. Does this make me a knight in shining armor? What about whoever is controlling the basilisk? They're evil, right? Bad wizard?

Good job, Harry, now you made more questions. Alright, new plan: go in, break whatever control is on the basilisk, ask it to help me, something-something, rescue Ginny.

This was the best plan I had, and before I could do anything about improving it, I had a door in front of me that needed opening.

Obviously, using an alohomora charm was the easiest option, so it was the first I'd try. Memories of Hermione teaching it to me made me smile a bit—my wizard friends always had that effect.

"Al-loh-ho-mor-ah!"

The feel of a fizzled spell met my wizard senses. Right. Gesture.

"Al-loh-ho-mor-ah!"

A quick circle and stroke with my wand and the spell yet again failed to open the door, but this time I felt the spell actually form and cast—it just didn't open the door.

Okay. Snake-themed door protecting what I could already assume was a snake-themed room that held a giant snake. Oh gosh, I wonder what the way to get in could be? As if I hadn't read Lord of the Rings.

—Open and grant me access.—

The actual words, as ever, just came to me. I asked the door to open, and before the last sibilant syllable left my lips, the snake-motif door began to unlock. Typical for magic things, it was at least a hundred times more complicated than it had any right to be, but that was the nature of magic. You don't do something directly, when you could launch a firework display and simulate a brass band's sound.

Loud clunks and grinding noises—of ancient magic-drive machinery—rang out, and the door opened toward me. Honestly, if my best friend's sister wasn't actually in danger, I would have commented on how the locking mechanism was all for show—it was on the outside of an outward swinging door!

Lifting my wand before the door got all the way open, I felt the tingle from the exactingly made wand as the phoenix feather in the core energized with potential. With a deep breath, I invested a little more power into the wand—preparing it for a quick spell.

Through the door, I could see a face carved in stone at the end of a long hall. Flanking the platform down the middle of the room was water, and from the water sprang giant, man-sized snake heads—fangs bared. But there was more, much more.

The room was hewn from rock, but the wet environment had started to make its mark with stalactites hanging from the ceiling that resembled nothing so much as giant teeth. Here and there in the room, large crystal structures had begun to grow from the water, but beside the face at the end was the biggest group of them. Black and malevolent, the crystals seemed almost alive (and given what I knew about magic, that might not be wrong).

The strangest thing about all the crystals was the way they seemed drained. Crystals should be bright colors like rose quartz, but these seemed to be gray.

Climbing inside wasn't easy. There was a ladder that led down to the damp strip of stone down the middle of the room, and even as the walls showed signs of moisture and crystalline deposits, the ladder was betrayed by rust.

A cloying atmosphere seemed oddly perfect for what I assumed was going to be the lair of a giant snake—a magical snake. A magical snake that could harm just with a reflection of its vision. There was a sense rising that I, Harry Potter, was an idiot. The floor was reflective water, there were reflective and refractive crystals all around, and I came down here without a single plan for how to deal with the snake?!

Cold certainty in my magic resisted the rising anger. I could speak to the snake, cover my eyes. Surely—as Hagrid had spent years teaching us; animals just need respect and some kind words. I steadied my breathing and then spotted Ginny.

She was laying on what seemed to be the driest patch of stone flooring at the far end of the room. The big face carved into the wall stared down at her with malevolent certainty. She looked peaceful—but it was the kind of peace that belongs to the dead.

"Ginny?" My pace quickened, speeding past the awkward shuffle-jog of a muggle impatient to get somewhere but not wanting to put any effort into the task, I broke into a run and only stopped as my legs folded beside Ginny.

She was so still, so quiet. I begged her, asked her to come back. I don't know why her plight in particular hurt me, even given she was family to someone I thought of as family. Seeing her laying there so close to death hurt. I dropped my wand to feel for her pulse when I heard footsteps coming from one side.

"She won't wake."

The voice gave my ears the focus they needed so that I could look and see, "Tom? Tom Riddle?" I watched him walking toward me. "What do you mean she won't wake? She's not…?"

"She's still alive, but only just." Tom walked closer, looking no older than I remember from the spell in the diary. He wore his uniform, complete with a robe of house Slytherin. The thing that surprised me, however, was how silently he moved, like he was a…

"Are you a ghost?" I asked.

"A memory—preserved in a diary for fifty years," he said.

What he was, then, was a ghost. A memory of someone. Why does everybody have to be so bloody—? Ugh, keep on track, Harry. Focus on Ginny. I checked her temperature again, and her hand felt, well, it didn't feel as cold. The realization dawned quickly—my hands had been pressed to cold, wet stone. "She's cold as ice."

I—I kinda lost it. All the pain and shock of seeing friends being petrified, of knowing that something truly evil was stalking the school, all piled up. Anger tried to push through, but the cold calm of my will kept me from lashing out. "Ginny, Please don't be dead. Wake up."

A sound met my ear, an unmistakable sound—that of a wand being picked up from a stone floor. It didn't fully register at first. "You've got to help me, Tom. There's a basilisk—"

"It won't come until it's called."

The words chilled me more than the floor could have, more than the freezing water would. I looked up and saw Tom Riddle standing over me, his hands feeling my wand. Anger seethed, and I felt all the hairs on my arms prickle and stand up. "Give me my wand, Tom."

"You won't be needing it." The way he worked his fingers over it, familiarity plain in their movements, disgusted me.

The import of the situation slammed back into me—Ginny was dying. "Listen," I said. "We've got to go. We've got to save her!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Harry. You see, as poor Ginny grows weaker, I grow stronger." He looked smug, and it was obvious why. He was doing this, he was behind all of this.

Connections started coming together, and the smug bastard in front of me was killing Ginny Weasley. If my wand had been in my hand, I would have—I would have hurt him.

"Yes, Harry, it was Ginny Weasley who opened the chamber of secrets."

"Duh," I said, sarcasm dripping off the word. The distinct pleasure of seeing Tom Riddle's face contort in surprise was worth interrupting his monologue. I might not have gotten all the details from him, but it wasn't like it was hard to guess—he was draining Ginny of her lifeforce, that must have given him some control over her.

"Yes, well, when she tried to dispose of my diary, I was almost defeated, but who should find it but you. The person I was—"

"Listen. Is there a point to all this? I mean, I may be twelve, but I'm not stupid. You did this—all this—fifty years ago, and now you're still haunting this place and doing it again." When I mentioned haunting, Tom's face seemed to contort in anger for a moment. Interesting.

Tom Riddle—or the ghost of him—seemed to shake off my interruption. "How is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent, was able to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a sc—"

He was focused on my face, on the scar above my right eye. He almost touched it with my wand and then the tip of the wand strayed just a little—no longer pointing at me. My hand was quick, but I didn't want to rely on it. I shifted to my left, and while he began to bring the wand across, all that did was put it into my hand quicker.

"What are you—? Give me that!" Tom Riddle tugged back, trying to yank my wand from my grip. —Come, protect me!—

The last words burned in my ears as only a snake's could. I tightened my grip on my wand, even grabbed it with my other hand and jerked backwards.

Ever supple, my wand flexed a little, but with the advantage of a two-handed grip on the wand, I was able to keep hold of it as I fell backward. A rumbling sound came from the face carved into the wall, and I stared down my body at it as the mouth opened.

I turned just in time not to look at what I knew was coming. The sound of scales on water and on stone rang behind me, and I realized this was the moment I was going to need to use my wits. —No. I am your master!—

"Parseltongue won't save you now, Potter. It only obeys me!" —Hunt him, kill him, bring him to me.—

Possibilities ran through my head. Reach back and launch spells at them? That would be great, but without being able to aim I could hit Ginny. I could try some kind of teleport, but there were reasons why they only taught those to older students. Or I could try—

Of course, in hindsight, running along ancient, uneven stones in wet conditions was hardly the smartest move ever. That I did it in school shoes was even worse. The tip of one of my shoes struck a raised edge of a stone, and I felt my weight pitch forward while my legs were both behind me.

As I hit the stone for the second time, I kept hold of my wand at least. My glasses bounced off my face, and as I reached for them a loud screech cut through the air. I pulled my glasses on just in time to see Fawkes fly through the open door and, claws extended like a hawk, zoom over my head.

Fawkes' flight caused the hair on my head to shift in the breeze of his passing—I hated to think how close to my back the basilisk was. The sound of an impact, followed by meaty-tearing noises sickened me. Looking up, I saw in the shadows what Fawkes was doing. "Its eyes!"

Retreating quickly, Fawkes let out another cry and swooped back past me with one shredded eyeball in one of his talons, and a whole one in the other.

"No!" Tom's voice betrayed actual emotion now, I realized. "Your bird might have blinded the basilisk, but it can still hear you."

I had to roll my eyes at that. It was almost like Tom didn't know snakes had an excellent sense of smell, too. Or maybe he was deliberately leaving that out? I couldn't take any chances. With the snake blinded, I made a run for a side passage.

This was better. Despite feeling the wind of the basilisk's movement right behind me, I was no longer hindered by lack of targeting or worry about hitting Ginny. Ginny… I'd left her alone with Tom—with a monster.

I'd only have one shot at this—I had to do it right. Turning around, the monster was about twenty feet behind me down the tight corridor. I almost giggled as I began the incantation. "En-gor-gee-oh!" I had to gesture a circle with my wand, then aim it.

Blue light shot from my wand and struck true on the basilisk's nose. The charm was something we'd only learned in the last week, and though I wasn't perfect with it, I didn't need to be. The basilisk lunged toward me and stopped. Stuck.

On one hand, I didn't have a basilisk chasing me anymore, on the other, I had to find another way out. Turning back to the tunnel—away from the basilisk that was now stuck—I put my shoes to good effect and started running.

"Left," I said. "Left, and… This will be the way back, I'm sure." Trying to keep my feet quiet, I stepped out of one of the tunnels near the head at the end of the hall and ran up to Ginny, or what was laying in Ginny's place. "What did you do to her?"

On the ground, Ginny was no longer human. Her clothes stretched and tore in places as arms and legs changed to pale-furred limbs that ended in hooves. Her head, too, was changing. Where Ginny had been, over the course of seconds, a pony now lay. A pale furred pony with a shock of vivid red hair.

"I said, what did you do to her?!" I looked at Tom Riddle, but his own eyes weren't on me. Higher than my head, he was gazing at something behind me—and there was fear in Tom's eyes.

"Sh-She's mine!" Tom Riddle dove at the pony-Ginny. His forms seemed to contract as he sprang into her.

Starting to turn to see what had spooked Tom, I saw the black crystals just behind me bleeding smoke and darkness. Green fire boiled within the smoke, and before I could think to do anything it rushed forward, and it too shot into Ginny.

"No! Leave her alone!" I pointed my wand at Ginny and—and—I couldn't think of what to cast.

—Let me free.—

I shook my head from the stupor. I was just angry enough to want to blast something, and if the basilisk wanted another party, I had plenty of incendio to go around. —Why?—

—He no longer controls me.— The basilisk sounded scared, panicked. —I can help.—

"Dammit, Hagrid." I gestured a V with my wand, and aimed at the tail end of the basilisk. "Ruh-doo-see-oh!"

I could feel a battle raging close by. Magic boiled within Ginny, dark magic unlike anything I'd experienced before. Even—Even Voldemort hadn't been like this. "What are you, Tom?"

My words had drawn the basilisk near, and I could feel water wash up against my leg. Putting my hand out, not the one with my wand in it, I felt the scaled hide of the basilisk. —You can help her, do you know legilimency?—

The odd name struck something in my mind. Cold certainty flooded away all the anger inside. I shook my head. After a moment, and realizing the basilisk was still blind, I said, —No.—

—I can fix this, Harry Potter, but only if you promise that He will never again dominate me.— The snake's words hung with a thousand meanings, but one was clear: the basilisk hated Tom Riddle's ghost.

Trembling, I held onto the basilisk for support as it whispered instructions to me. I pointed my wand at Ginny. "Leh-jill-ih-mens!" If it weren't for the basilisk I would have fallen atop the pony Ginny had become. As it was, I fell into her instead.

Dark magic swirled around me, and I had to throw up a defensive charm just to be able to see where I was. Ginny. I was in Ginny's head. "Ginny! Ginny, are you there?!" Hindsight was clearly better than my glasses-corrected vision. I mean, stepping into a war zone and shouting loudly was hardly the smartest thing I could have done.

"A-vah-dah ke-dah-vra!"

The green bolt of light streaked toward me, but a moment from touching me it seemed to turn aside. A shape stepped from the haze of magic—Tom Riddle. "Potter? How did you… Forget it. You have to help me turn it aside!"

"What?" As I looked into Tom's eyes, I saw real fear. I turned around and looked where his wand was pointing. "Oh. That."

Seething clouds of black were pouring around Ginny's mind. It was sinking into her body and investing parts of her with its own energy. A shape stepped from the smoke—another pony shape.

This stallion, and he was definitely a stallion by his stance, glared past me with red eyes with smoldering green smoke bordering them. Black mane, dark as midnight, tumbled around his gray forequarters. He looked amazing—majestic.

"You have been tricked, Harry Potter. Tom Riddle wants to use Ginevra's body for himself. He would have infested her, taken her over, and lived again."

The voice was like steel wrapped in velvet—dark and dusky, with a promise of action. I looked at Tom for a second, then back to the creature. "What are you doing to her?"

"Ridding her mind of him." The stallion pointed one shod hoof at Tom.

"A-vah-dah ke-dah-vra!" Tom's wand made a wiggle motion, then spouted a green beam of light toward the pony.

Tom, I knew, was evil. This creature, a pony, I would have to take my chances with. I dove at Tom, knocking into him and shoving his wand out of his grip. "Stop this! I know that curse!"

"Good." The words came from just behind me, and carried that same tickle of velvet. I shivered at the sound of a chuckle from the stallion. "I told you the absolute truth." As he spoke, the stallion walked around me, putting himself between Tom and his wand. "He would have done all that, and I'm here to stop him,"—the stallion chuckled—"because I want this body for my own."

My heart felt like it stopped as the stallion's magic rushed toward Tom Riddle.

"You are both whelps to me, beings not yet even begun to grow, but while you, Harry Potter, have earned the peace of my reprieve, your fellow human has not." As he spoke, dark magic rushed around and through Tom, and I watched as it sank into him. "It is an interesting trick, this magic of investing a part of yourself into an object, but it has dangers."

Tom Riddle's ghost looked at me with honest surprise—another real emotion from him. "Harry, I can't stop it. It's more powerful than—than me." Realization seemed to have a calming effect on him. "It's going to consume me, it's going to—"

"Shhh. Just serve your purpose. You were born to slavery, to a line spawned from those who dared escape my hoof. Welcome home, Voldemort." The stallion leaned over Tom, and I could see a mask of darkness forming over the ghost's face—a mask that resembled the stallion.

"NO!" Tom screamed and began thrashing. I watched him rip out part of himself and throw it at the stallion. "You just want my—my horcrux! Well, I won't let a beast like you have it. It needs a soul, and it has destroyed mine, but there's another here."

One of Tom's hands shot out to the side, and I watched it stretch—magically—beyond Ginny's mindscape, while the other aimed directly at what seemed to be Ginny herself.

"You have—You have bested me, King Sombra, but you won't get my horcrux."

Something rushed along the conduit that Tom's arms made, something amazing and wonderful, but as I watched it move beyond Ginny's mind, I was kicked from the mindscape.

I screamed and fell back from Ginny's pony form. Cold and wet, I wanted to stop what was happening to Ginny, but there was nothing I could do.

—WHAT IS THIS? YOU STINK OF HIS MAGIC!— A moment after the basilisk's voice hit my ears, I felt pain lance into my shoulder. It was as if a six inch blade was shoved past skin, flesh, and bone. Then it got worse. A hot rush of pain blossomed at the end of the knife blade.

Screaming at the bite from the basilisk, I stumbled to my feet and ran forward blindly. Anger—fury—cut through the cold and calculating part of my mind and shoved free. A screech greeted my own inarticulate shout, and I saw Fawkes rushing toward me.

Where the basilisk had bit me, was just above my heart. Its deadly poison would be rushing to every part of my body. As much as the venom's chill was eating my flesh, it also fed my anger. The bite would kill me, but until then the burning of it invigorated my flesh.

Something called to me, some power I had never felt before. Running on instinct, barely able to think beyond my emotional explosion of rage, I grabbed for what the power offered. The crystals.

Reaching out, I shoved magic through my wand and into one of the crystals. The gray mass brightened, then shimmered, and finally it radiated magic back. The power hadn't lied. "More!" I reached to the second mass of crystals as Fawkes reached me. I ignored his claws digging into my shoulder, and focused on empowering and extracting all the magic from the crystals.

I needed more. More magic. More power. More crystals. I charged the remaining masses of crystals all at once, and the returning wave of magic set my soul on fire. I burned hotter than the sun. On my shoulder, Fawkes decided to make my body burn as well.

"Leh-jill-ih-mens!" I screamed, aimed my wand at Ginny, and let loose the charm.

But Ginny rolled over and jumped out of the way. She looked back at me with red eyes rimmed with green smoke. She smirked at me. "Harry Potter, the boy who lived. That's incorrect now." It was that same velvet-steel voice I'd heard inside her head. King Sombra's voice. Black smoke coiled out to surrounded Ginny Weasley, and she vanished.

I looked at my arms, and purple-blue flames danced over blackened limbs. But something was wrong. Different. My arms were changing and my hands merging in on themselves. My wand burned—the fire danced up the length of wood and consumed it in an instant.

The smoke from my wand, however, was alive. It swirled about me, caused me to turn around a few times in a dizzy circle, then it floated up before my face and slammed into my forehead.

Screaming in rage, I ripped at my tightening clothes. I didn't care if my hands had turned into hooves, and I didn't care if I was dying anymore. Ginny was gone, and that was all that mattered.

I collapsed on the stones and whined as even my clothes caught fire now. Changing just like Ginny had, I felt a tail stretch from my backside as a muzzle pushed out of my face.

A sharp pain, different from the rest, lanced through my head. It felt like I was being ripped in two, and then a scream echoed through the chamber that wasn't my own. All the cold certainty of a wizard in his second year of school was gone, and soon so was my anger and consciousness.

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Fire. Pain. Anger. This was the strangest afterlife I'd ever experienced, though it wasn't a high bar to reach considering this was the first time I'd died. I could hear what sounded like claws on stone, but I didn't need to pay attention to that—I was dead.

Pain exploded, and instantly I felt anger rise. I got angry about that pain, angry about all the pain. Opening my eyes, there was blue-purple flame dancing on a black tube that stretched out in front of me. Fawkes, heedless of the flame, jumped up on the tube and screeched at me.

New pain spread in my arm, though I couldn't tell what it was. All the pain blended into one big mass that fed my anger. Then my memory started to pull back events from the recent past, and one name stilled my anger to fear. "Ginny?"

The flickering flames faded with my anger. I shot upright and started looking around—then fell over. Anger returned, and with it flames. Everything looked like it should be burning. My memory supplied the last thing I'd seen before I passed out: everything had been burning.

Phoenix-fire should only affect a phoenix. Even the perch they're standing on won't burn up when a phoenix oxidizes themselves rapidly.

Flames and fire had burned everything in the room. They had danced over the water, licked the snake statues, and even wrapped the crystals in their warm embrace. "I burned everything?"

—You tried to, Harry Potter.— The voice of the basilisk sounded different, strange. —I took refuge in the water, your bird took refuge in the flames themselves, and that thing will not be burned.—

My head snapped around to see the basilisk. Missing its eyes still, it stared back at me sightlessly. A lick of anger came. "You bit me."

—You had his magic clinging to you. You stank of it, and even had it within you.— The basilisk's tongue lanced out, flicked in the air, then returned. —But not now.—

"You can understand me? I thought I needed to speak parseltongue for you to hear me?" I asked. "And who are you talking about? Tom?"

—I am no mere snake, and the one you call Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort, had touched you deeply with magic. It was wound through your soul, but it's gone now.—

Boys everywhere knew the sound effect of a bomb dropping, but this was the first time I'd heard it in parseltongue. I must have sat there in a daze, my thoughts racing but unable to grab any and use them.

—I owe you a debt, Harry Potter. I overreacted and almost cost you your life.— The basilisk had my attention. Tom Riddle was Voldemort. I looked into the ruined face of the serpent. —I pledge myself to your service, Harry Potter, until I have saved your life.—

"What's your name?" I asked.

Tom Riddle was Voldemort.

—Salazar Slytherin stole my name. He wrought it into his prophecy and bound me to serve the heir of house Slytherin. He took it, and now I cannot get it back.—

Tom Riddle was—

Ginny!

I shoved all the thoughts and problems aside for a moment—pushed them into a postal box in my head that was titled later. "Where's Ginny?" I asked.

—The girl that turned beast? The monster within that form is gone.—

My memory of the event came back, of ~~Tom Riddle~~ Voldemort doing something at the last minute. The spell he'd performed wasn't a spell at all. I racked my brain trying to put it together.

—I have not seen legilimency used in that manner before, Harry Potter. I know not exactly what the specter of Voldemort begat, but I know the outcome.— The basilisk shifted its weight and turned its head around to look at something on the ground. —Follow.—

Slithering forward, I tried to stand up—only to fall down. Panic set in as my brain recognized several things that not just moved wrong, but one part that shouldn't have existed at all. I looked at my arms, and realized they were the tubes I'd seen before. The burning tubes.

Dark brown, what my arms had become denied belief. Other little things intruded on my thoughts. I could feel my legs—what seemed to be my back legs—bend in different ways than any human leg had, and I could wag my tail. "What am I?"

—You are Harry Potter. What the magic of this chamber has done to you I cannot fathom. You walk on four legs now, you look like a horse, but you bear my scales and the phoenix's fire. Your wand sits proud on your forehead. What are you, Harry Potter?—

Movement from the corner of my eye drew my attention. I looked into one of the crystal clusters. They had all grown and were bright colors now. Magic pulsed within them, but it was their simplest of properties I wanted.

I saw a reflection of myself.

The basilisk hadn't lied. I looked a lot like Ginny had before—before King Sombra had taken her over. Unlike Ginny, I sported a forked horn that curved its way from my forehead and had a double-chevron of red on the front of it. Brown fur covered me from the tip of my nose and all the way down the tail behind me, but along my belly was soft cream fur. A mane—like that of a lion—framed my head in blood-red curly hair.

But the basilisk had spoken true. I wore scales along the upper side of my snout and running all the way over my head and down my back—basilisk scales. The underside of my tail, too, had matching blood-red hair, as well as a little tuft at the back of each of my knees—or whatever they were called on horses.

Horse?

No, I wasn't a horse. I was short, for a start, but as well I'd never seen a horse look like I looked.

I glanced down at one arm—foreleg—and examined the split-toed hoof-thing. They'd have to do for now. I could always ask Dumbledore for help undoing this transformation.

"I guess I'm some kind of pony. Where's Ginny?" I asked.

—Right here.— The basilisk looked down at a book—a book that had survived the phoenix-fire. ~~Tom Riddle~~ Voldemort's diary.

"Of course it's over there. Not like I'm not getting used to walking on four legs or anything. I'll just walk over there as casual as you please." Sarcasm aside, it was easier than I thought it would be. My hooves found plenty of grip on the stone floor, and just walking one leg at a time left me feeling more stable than walking as a human ever had.

Bile rose in my throat as I looked down at the haunted diary.

—The one you seek is within.—

"Hold on. Are you saying Ginny is in the book?" I asked.

—I speak true, Harry Potter. Ginevra Molly Weasley is within the horcrux now, not a shard of Voldemort's soul.— The basilisk turned its head toward me. A chill ran down my spine that the creature knew exactly where I was.

I reached one hoof out to prod at the book. It moved, but only as far as I pushed it. My blurry eyesight didn't tell me much, so I leaned down to give it a closer inspection. The blank cover and brass corner protectors confirmed that it was the diary, even if it surviving being incinerated didn't.

When I flipped the diary over with my hoof, I gasped.

GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY

"We have to get her out." I turned my head to look at the basilisk. Somehow, it seemed less somehow—smaller. Focus, Harry. "How do I get Ginny free of the diary?"

—This is a simple thing, Harry Potter. Destroy the horcrux and you destroy her. A single bite and my venom will free her to the afterlife.—

Worry and panic hit like a hammer. The world focused down to several tiny facts. "Wait. Are you saying she can't be freed except by killing her?"

—The horcrux is a repository for souls, Harry Potter. If the soul has nowhere else to go, it will move on.— The basilisk seemed to stir and shift about, all the while reducing in size. —What is happening?—

"So now you suddenly don't know something? I don't know either. Could it be that this chamber that turned me into a horse is doing something to you? At least you'll be easier to feed if you're smaller." I turned my attention away from the basilisk and back to Ginny's diary.

Using the split in my hoof, I caught the edge of the diary and lifted it into the air. Sopping wet—just like when I'd found it after Myrtle's little tantrum in the bathroom—the diary's pages were completely dry and protected. Magic.

Holding the diary in one hoof, however, revealed the biggest problem of this form. I imagined trying to walk with one hoof lifted, and it was quickly obvious that it wouldn't work. Back left forward, back right forward, front left forward—fall down.

The answer to my problem was both simple and impossible: Wingardium Leviosa. Magic solved every problem, or so Hermione would want me to believe. I was of the opinion that while magic was great, trying mundane methods first was always better. The impossible part of the situation was I had no wand. No wand means no magic.

But wait, Harry. Something important was said a few minutes ago. Well, thank you brain. A lot of things were said a few minutes ago. If only I had my wand. "Hold on. What did you say about my wand before?"

—It is gone. Destroyed in your fire. It is now part of you, Harry Potter. Your horn.—

The sibilant words sounded odd, and caused me to turn to look at the basilisk. It looked softer, its coils still looking scaled, but little twirls of vibrant color threaded around it here and there. I looked up its body toward the basilisk's head—or what had been the basilisk's head.

The transition from snake to horse was subtle, but fur was the obvious indication. Where its neck had been was now the midsection of a—a pony. Dainty little legs were held up and pulled against it, but just forelegs. The pony—basilisk—had an equine neck and head, and it was the latter that glared back at me with eyes that shimmered yellow.

—What have you done to me, Harry Potter? I was beautiful, but now you have remade me into this?— The basilisk's eyes were beautiful, entrancing. I could feel myself sinking into them in a way no magic had affected me before in my life.

"Stop," I said. "Please stop."

—Curious,— was all the basilisk said before it closed its eyes. —Most curious.—

I stood, staring, unable to think fully. Slowly—very slowly—my mind returned to my own. Suddenly gasping like a man who had been drowning, I shook my head as if to free it of the last remnants of the basilisk's magic. "What did you do to me?!"

—I do not know. It is curious.—

"It was like looking into your eyes was some kind of hypnosis. Was that it?" I asked.

—Possibly. Few have looked into my eyes and lived, Harry Potter. You are the third.— The basilisk sounded sure of itself again. —Are they pretty?—

"Beautiful." The word slipped out before I realized it. "Enough of that. You said you'd help me. I need some way to cast, and you said my horn was my wand. Can I use it to do magic?"

—You can or you can't, Harry Potter. I speak only of things I know.—

"Great. Okay. So if I assume I can do magic with it, let's try something simple." I tilted my head forward and focused on the spell. "Hold on, do I need to twist my whole head? Oh what the heck. Loo-mos!"

The feel of magic flowing to my horn was unique. All the times I'd felt magic moving in the past, it had been through my arm and into my wand. I still felt that same magic moving sensation as power traveled through my body to my horn, but in that new extremity I felt magic actually perform the charm and my will.

—You are a very adaptable wizard, Harry Potter.—

The tone of the basilisk surprised me—it still sounded snake-like, but there was a hint of pride. As I turned to look at the basilisk, I noticed it closed its eyes before ours met. I couldn't help grinning. "I didn't even have to do the gesture. This is great. Okay, next one." I turned back to the diary and aimed my horn at it, or so I hoped. "Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!"

I had to tilt my head back up to see the effect, but by the feel of the magic that had flowed through me and my horn, it had worked. Sure enough, the diary floated in the air before me. "Did you see tha—" The basilisk hadn't closed her beautiful, pretty eyes quickly enough. It took me a moment to shake free of her gaze despite her having closed them quickly.

"We need to work on that. Can you—I don't know—not keep mesmerizing me?" I asked. Turning around slowly, I looked back toward the entrance and then began walking toward the ladder.

—Harry Potter should learn to not be entranced.— The basilisk slithered along at my side, but slightly behind me.

I reached the ladder and stared upward. "You said you don't have a name?" I put one hoof to a rung on the ladder, but was suddenly attacked.

The basilisk wrapped around me with long coils, squeezing and gripping me tight. —Don't struggle, Harry Potter.— As fast as it had bound me, the basilisk shot upward and used its long body to carry me with it.

Taking roughly two seconds, I'd barely had time to feel worry let alone panic before I was back on my hooves outside the door to the Chamber of Secrets. "Th-Thank you."

—I swore myself to you, Harry Potter. Serving you is my honor, but if it pleases you to name me it would be ample compensation.—

It was odd having a conversation with someone while deliberately not looking at them. "Balthazar." An angry hiss followed my words. "What's wrong with Balthazar?"

—It's a name for a human and a man.—

I stopped. "You're a woma—a female basilisk?" I asked.

—I was. Whatever I am now is still female.—

"Two good points. Something reptilian, but female. What about Noodle?" I asked.

—Perhaps I should test my venom on Harry Potter?—

"Point taken." I started walking again. "I'd call you Lamia, but that has some connotations we don't want. What about Addera?" I had a moment to realize she was moving before the basilisk was before me, her eyes closed but the tip of her equine snout almost touching my own.

—So mote it be. I am Addera, and I am at your service, Harry Potter.— Her tongue flicked out at the end of her words and tickled across my nose. Her emotions were not easy to read before, but I think I could see amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Thank you, Addera." There were moments in my life where I wondered how in magic I'd gotten to a particular position. Arriving at Hogwarts for the first time was one of them, when I'd first spoken to a snake was another, but hearing devotion in Addera's words was now the latest one. "Let's keep going, Ron is likely panicking."

—Ron? You have a companion apart from that phoenix?— Addera shifted to the side, her eyes closed yet somehow able to move without bumping into the wall behind her.

"Well, two. Ron Weasley, Ginny's brother, came down with me, but he and Gilderoy are stuck behind a cave-in." The cave-in which I could barely see ahead of us. Since I was young, everything past about arm's length in front of me has been a blur, and now—without my glasses—that was all I saw.

A screech from behind me made me turn just in time to see Fawkes diving toward Addera. "Fawkes! No! She's on our side!"

—No. Come here little bird.— Addera's hissing voice had an edge of steel in it.

I turned to look at Addera but glanced away before I made eye contact. Fawkes was not so lucky. Staring into Addera's eyes, the phoenix landed beside her. "Don't eat Fawkes."

—Don't be silly, Harry Potter. A phoenix would give terrible indigestion.— Addera turned herself a little so I was looking at the back of her head. —Little phoenix. We are not enemies. I serve Harry Potter. An attack upon me is an attack upon him.—

"I don't think Fawkes understands parseltongue," I said.

—I don't care. The bird knows I can best it now. We are even.— Addera turned away from Fawkes and slithered toward the cave-in.

"Uh. Fawkes?" For the first time since my transformation I realized how much smaller I was. Fawkes was a big bird, had been about as long from tail to beak as my arm, but now I could look him in the eyes. "Fawkes? Addera, how long will he be like this?"

—How long were you? The bird is a phoenix, they're immortal. Come, Harry Potter.—

"Stop, Addera. You can't do this to people." As I spoke, Fawkes suddenly burst into fire. Flames licked up and around the phoenix, consumed him, and tumbled his ashes into a pile. "Fawkes?"

With an annoyed screech. Fawkes pulled himself out of the burnt remains of his former self and glared at Addera.

"Both of you. Just—Just stop this!"

Addera, her eyes closed, seemed to look right at me. —As you wish, Master.— The way she spoke held sadness, pain.

It hit me a moment after she spoke what had happened. I'd given her a command, like she were a house elf. "Not everything I say is an order, Addera. But,"—my mind raced to come up with the right thing to say—"can I give you one command, a true order?"

—I pledged myself to you, Harry Potter. Until I defend your life, my life is yours.—

"Addera. Do as you see fit in all things, and ignore all other orders." I almost wanted to see her eyes just to get a good read on how she felt. When she bowed her head forward, smiling, I knew I'd done something right for once. "Now. Can I ask you to please not hypnotize my friends?"

—I will do as I see fit, Harry Potter.—

Blurry as her face was, I could see her smile still persisted. Great, I'd managed to make the ancient snake-pony happy. Hooray. "So let's get out of here." A shiver ran through me from snout to tail, and strange as having those parts to shiver was, I felt more than a little cautious.

—I don't need to see to be able to tell this cave is unstable, Harry Potter. Be ready to move very quickly, should the need arise.— Aderra's scales made soft, swishing sounds on the stone floor in counterpoint to the soft clopping of my hooves.

"Harry? Harry is that you?" Ron's voice was unmistakable. Of course, he was stuck on the other side of the cave-in.

No, that was completely wrong. By definition Addera, Fawkes, and I were on the stuck side of all the rocks. "Yeah. It's me, Ron. I don't suppose you worked out a way to get past all this?"

"You remember who has the broken wand, right Harry?"

Broken wand? Broken wand?! I wanted to yell at Ron that he might have a broken wand, but mine incinerated and became part of me. I felt my anger start to flare hot. I'd done it. I'd rescued Ginny, I'd defeated Voldemort (it still counts if he's a ghost) again, and I'd even made friends with—and named—a basilisk. After all these facts fed my anger, I remembered the key one—I might have accidentally let a monster capable of defeating Voldemort's ghost free. "I'm coming, Ron." There was no friendship in my voice, only fury.

—Harry Potter.—

I ignored the voice, barely paid it any mind. "Re-doo-see-oh!" One of the huge boulders shrank to the size of a pebble. "Re-doo-see-oh! Re-doo-see-oh!" Again and again I aimed my horn and blasted boulders into tiny shapes. My anger was like fuel, and my target was just ahead! "Re-doo-see-oh!"

—Harry Potter. Stop.—

Addera's voice had notes of fear underpinning her sibilant hisses. I turned to look at her and stared deep into her eyes. "What?!" I demanded.

—This rage is useful, Harry Potter, but do not target your friend with it. Get angry at the rocks for being in your way.—

She was right. As angry as I was at Ron, I was more upset with the world in general. Well, Addera was right. Let's use that. Gritting my teeth, I swung my attention back to the rocks and pointed my horn at them. "Get back from the rocks, Ron!"

There wasn't a single spell I could think of that would do what I wanted, so I instead focused all my rage into being and shoved it out through my horn. Rolling my eyes upward, I could see a beam of teal and purple fire lance outward from me. Stones and boulders were naught but tissue paper before my anger.

More rocks fell down from above, but I simply didn't care—they too got blasted. I was so into blasting the rocks that I didn't notice my legs start to wobble until one foreleg's knee folded.

I hated the ground even more than the rocks, particularly when it jumped up and punched me. But, though I wanted to blast the floor, I was all out of magic. "Stupid floor."

—You did it, Harry Potter. Your friend approaches,— Addera said.

Tilting my head, I looked up and saw a blurry Ron Weasley approaching, picking his way between smoking—and in some case still glowing hot—rocks. When he got closer, I could see his shoes had started smoldering. "Hi, Ron." It was lame as greetings went, but I'd just blown up tonnes of rocks.

"Harry?!" Ron crouched down, again showing me just how small I was (laying down like I was, I didn't come up to his knees). "Is that really you? And why is this book floating here?"

"It's me, Ron. Can you help me up?" My everything was achy, but especially my horn—it felt like I'd dipped it in acid, then a stronger acid.

It was a sign of how good a friend Ron was that he didn't ask more questions (that or it was a sign of how crazy our lives had become) when he just picked me up. "Harry, why are you a colorful little unicorn, and why is there a colorful snake-horse with you? And one other thing, why is it carrying Fawkes?" He paused a moment. "And where's Ginny?"

"We need to go see Dumbledore. This is really crazy, and I don't know as I could explain it fully twice. Ginny is—" I stopped and looked at the diary that floated—obedient to the charm I'd placed on it—beside me. "Ginny is alive, Ron. We need to see Dumbledore."

I heard Addera's movement before I saw her blurry shape slither past Ron. She seemed to navigate the hot stones without trouble. —Is this your friend, Harry Potter?— she asked.

Unable to see Addera, I turned to look up at Ron. "Is she standing by Gilderoy?" I asked.

"She? Uh…" Ron turned around, still carrying me. "Yeah. She has her eyes closed. What's she going to do to him?"

"Look away from her, Ron. No, Addera. But you probably shouldn't mess with him. He obliviated himself." As I spoke, I closed my eyes.

—Because you venerated him, Harry Potter, I carry no ill-will toward this phoenix, but I will not carry him all the way back. Order this one to carry him. He will follow your commands.— Addera sounded satisfied, deeply satisfied. —It seems your friend didn't look away, Harry Potter.—

"Ron?" I asked. "Ron! Why'd you look?"

"Her eyes are so beautiful. I want to look at them all day long." Ron's tone made him sound like he was miles away—mentally. "What should I do?"

"I can't believe this. It's like some kind of cartoon. Okay, Ron, carry me back to Hogwarts. Gilderoy? Gilderoy, carry Fawkes—the phoenix—and follow Ron." It was stupid, messed up, and working. Ron smiled and started heading back out of the room.

It wasn't far before we reached the convergence of pipes—one of which led to the entrance to the chamber. "Okay, Ron, stop here. Addera, can you carry us up the pipes?"

—For you, Harry Potter, I could. For these others…— Trailing off was hard to do in parseltongue. It was a complex language of tone involving almost entirely sibilant sounds, but Addera pulled it off perfectly. —They're too big.—

"Ron, put me down." A moment after I said the command I realized my error.

Ron Weasley held me out in his arms—about three times my height—and let go.

The drop, as it turned out, didn't trouble my new body one bit. I landed solidly on all fours and turned around to glare at Ron Weasley. "You know, I was actually going to feel bad about this. But after that, I don't think I will." Tilting my head forward, I lined up my horn with his chest. "Re-doo-see-oh!"

As I felt the rush of magic through my horn, I watched a purple light flash, and Ron started to get shorter. And shorter. And tiny! I was getting good mileage out of size-changing spells in tight quarters, and I wasn't one to give up at just one casting. "Re-doo-see-oh!" I aimed at Gilderoy, and in moments he too was no taller than three-quarters of the way up my leg.

—You are a clever one, Harry Potter. Very well. As I promised.— Addera moved faster than lightning. She coiled me up first, then Fawkes, then spared one coil to grab Gilderoy and Ron. With her cargo (us!) secured, Addera let out a hissing cackle and charged into a pipe. Despite all the confusion, I was sure this wasn't the pipe we'd come down.

The pipe split apart and got narrower, but thanks to her and my reduced size (to say nothing of Ron and Gilderoy), Addera made quick time in darker and darker tunnels. Two little lines of light ahead drew closer, until Addera stopped and pushed upward with her hooves. —This form is not as useless as I thought. Come, Harry Potter. Time to meet destiny.—

Silently as only a snake can move, Addera lifted herself out of the drain and deposited me on my hooves in a different lavatory to Myrtle's. I could tell because there wasn't a Myrtle here complaining about something, or being creepy about something else.

"I still can't see very well. This is a bathroom?" I asked.

—This is the faculty bathroom, Harry Potter. There are footsteps coming this way, soft and wary.— Before I could hope to react to what she'd said, Addera slithered around and put herself between me and what I thought was the doorway.

The door opened and a slim man, silhouetted by light, froze in the doorway. "Great. Just when Hagrid is off on some useless excursion, someone lets a bunch of animals inside. Begone!"

I could see his wand coming out, raising, and his lips parted. "Wait! Professor Snape!" I jumped around Addera's form and looked up at Snape's face. "It's me, Harry Potter, sir!"

His wand was still out, still raised, but even halfway across the bathroom I could see he look confused for nearly five seconds. "Only you, Mister Potter, could think to turn yourself into some kind of livestock on this night."

"But I did it! I stopped the ghost of V—of Tom Riddle! He kidnapped Ginny, and I found them, and then—" I stopped when the tip of Snape's wand tracked toward me. Professor Snape was full of subtle hints, usually backed by awkward and itchy spells. "Sorry, sir."

"Sorry indeed." Snape turned and started walking out. "Follow me, Mister Potter. Since you seem to be somehow mixed up in all this, I imagine you might as well be brought to the middle of this muddle." If he knew how silly the combination of words was, Snape didn't show it.

"What's happened, sir?" I asked.

"We're lost, Mister Potter."

Lost. Right. We were right outside Professor Dumbledore's office. I was about to ask him how we were lost when we knew where we were, when he opened the door and led the way inside. Dumbledore and McGonagall were already inside, and their heads snapped around at the sound of my hooves. I couldn't make out their expressions, but surprise was my best guess.

"I found Mister Potter and his friends skulking about outside. The mind simply boggles as to what possessed them to transform themselves to look like this." As he spoke, Snape made an expansive gesture toward Addera and me.

A hint of anger started to bubble inside, and I just wanted to—

—Calm yourself, Harry Potter. Getting angry at these wizards will not help you,— Addera said.

Her words helped me cut through the intense emotion. I cleared my throat, counted to five, and prepared to explain myself.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "Harry, is that you? What happened? Where's Ron? Ginny?"

"Addera has Ron, and Gilderoy Lockhart." As I spoke, I watched Addera uncurl herself and set miniature Ron and Gilderoy on the floor at Dumbledore's feet. When she added Fawkes, I heard Dumbledore gasp. "They're all okay. Except Lockhart. He obliviated himself."

Three raised eyebrows met my words. This is it, Harry Potter, time to explain what you've been up to. So I told my story. Everything—including King Sombra. I had to make expansive gestures, they felt natural, as I described my fight with Addera, with Tom Riddle, and finally the rush to get free. "…And that's how we ended up in the bathroom, sir."

"That explains why your companion keeps her eyes shut, at least. Well, let's take a look at you and see about undoing this. Minerva, I believe your expertise would put you at the advantage here." Dumbledore turned to Minerva and made room for the Deputy Headmistress.

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor approached me, looking huge—my eye level was just above her knees. "When I taught you transfiguration magic, I honestly didn't expect you to go quite so far with it. This is not an expression of animagi, that I can tell right away. You said magic crystals in the Chamber of Secrets did this?"

"Y-Yes, Professor McGonagall," I said.

"This is certainly no magic I've ever seen before. Perhaps it is related to our other problem?" McGonagall turned to look at Dumbledore with an eyebrow arched high.

—They are ignoring me, Harry Potter. Perhaps I should bite one to get their attention?— Addera sounded annoyed, and I could understand her reasoning. Three wizards immediately turned to look at Addera as if she had suddenly appeared. —That's much better.—

"It speaks parseltongue?" Snape asked.

I managed to move before Addera reacted. Jumping on her back, I wrapped my forehooves around her face and covered her eyes as they opened. "Professor Snape is really clever, Addera. We need his help."

"'Addera'?" Dumbledore walked over and crouched down before Addera. Both of them seemed to ignore that I was hanging off her back still. "You were the basilisk Salazar Slytherin set to guard the school. Harry, could you translate for me?"

—Slytherin stole my name and bound me to the Chamber of Secrets. Only by the acts of Harry Potter have I been freed of my enslavement,— Addera said.

I could feel her eyes wide open. Struggling to hold on and stop Addera from mesmerizing Dumbledore, I tried to translate what she said for him. "She said—"

Dumbledore smiled tolerantly, the benevolent smile of a teacher and mentor crinkling his cheeks. "I can understand her, Harry, I just need you to—Wait. You understand English, Addera?"

—A true scholar. I shouldn't expect less from the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Lesser reptiles may be bound to only understanding parseltongue, but I am no lesser reptile.— Addera's eyes narrowed against the undersides of my hooves. —What house are you from?— The words were chilling with their intensity.

"Gryffindor, my dear. You have nothing to fear here." Dumbledore's tone was warm, just as comforting and tolerant as he'd ever been with me. "Can Harry take his hands—hooves—away now?"

I felt as Addera slowly closed her eyes, then after a moment to be sure she wasn't just blinking, removed my hooves. A sigh of relief left me as she didn't bend the wills of everyone in the room to her will. Yay. Small steps.

—You were able to cure those who enjoyed my gaze before the crystals changed me?—

"They are recovering. You did that on purpose?" Dumbledore asked.

—The heir of Slytherin was not careful in his orders. I had to follow them, but he assumed my gaze would kill and commanded me simply to look at my victims.— Addera shifted her weight, shoving me off her back. In truth, I'd been too surprised at the events unfolding to do it myself.

A screech cut through the quiet of the room. Flames billowed out from Addera's tail (which she quickly unwound) to reveal Fawkes looking annoyed. Launching himself into the air, the phoenix circled the room before landing on Dumbledore's outstretched arm.

"Welcome back, my friend. We heard of your adventure." As he spoke, Dumbledore reached his opposite hand up and started scratching under Fawkes' chin. At a particularly indignant squawk from Fawkes, Dumbledore chuckled. "She is a curious one. But, I think you are even now."

Not for the first time did I wonder if Dumbledore could understand Fawkes. Fawkes squawked at him again and then flapped his way to a perch on the other side of the room from Addera. I didn't blame him, but right now I felt safer close to her—mostly because it meant I could protect people from her.

"Given the timing of all this, I can't help but feel the situation in the Chamber of Secrets and our displacement are connected." Snape seemed determined to rally the conversation onto some kind of track. I still had no idea what three of the smartest and most powerful wizards I knew were discussing at midnight.

"Displacement?" I asked.

"He speaks. So glad of you to make it to the conversation, Mister Potter." As always, Snape put a special angle on his tone as he spoke my name, like it was a curse. "Displacement. Noun. To move something from its natural environment—Among many other definitions. Hogwarts was moved, Mister Potter."

He did it on purpose. I couldn't think of any other reason why Snape would always make statements that only asked more questions than they answered. What had moved Hogwarts? Where had it moved to? How much of it had moved? How soon could we move back? My mind buzzed with questions.

A fizzling-crackling sound saved me from reflexively asking any of these questions. My reducio had worn off (I certainly hadn't had the inclination to make it permanent when I cast it)—both Ron and Gilderoy were growing again.

"Reducio to make them small enough to carry?" McGonagall was hard to read at times, and at others she was almost impossible to. She could praise or berate with that same even tone and tight expression. "Five points to Gryffindor."

"This is hardly the time to be worrying about house points," Snape said.

"On the contrary, Severus. This is a perfect time for it. Wherever we are, our students will need to be kept busy while help arrives." Dumbledore crouched down to examine Gilderoy, delivering several spells to him without wand or word. He tilted his head toward me. "You said, Harry, that he obliviated himself with a broken and unfamiliar wand?"

"Right. He confessed that he's been living off other peoples' fame, and then obliviating them so they forgot they did it. Is that legal?" I was sure it wasn't, but the laws of wizardkind hadn't been my strongest point in the past.

"It is not, but we only have your word that he confessed. The only way to prove your statement—and I assure you, Mister Potter, I would enjoy nothing more than seeing Gilderoy Lockhart revealed as more than just incompetent with damaged wands—is to find others who were affected by his obliviate," Snape said.

"Does it matter?" Gesturing at the mesmerized Gilderoy, McGonagall looked completely dismissive. "Neither Harry nor Ron had a hand," the corners of her mouth tilted up, "or hoof, in the memory charm on him, there was no crime committed. Given the extent of the backfire, would you say, Severus, that he has any chance of recovering?"

Snape walked up to the comatose Gilderoy and murmured a few things under his breath. I couldn't see if he made any gestures, but he seemed to be doing something. At last he stepped back and assumed his usual upright and snooty pose. "The charm has all the hallmarks of an expert caster. There are legends about the removal of memory charms, but none of them mention the subject still being sane by the end of it."

I gulped at the picture Snape painted. Memory charms, I realized, were serious magic. If Gilderoy had used it on Ron and I as he intended, we'd be nothing more than drooling simpletons—forever. The realization stole all the schadenfreude from the situation.

"Then it sounds like Gilderoy was hoist with his own petard. A most fitting end for—allegedly—a despicable little man." McGonagall's tone was unambiguous for once, she greatly disliked Gilderoy it seemed.

"What happened?" Ron Weasley asked.

"And, the other one awakens. I must commend you, Mister Potter, on finding a most useful pet. At least, any pet that keeps a Weasley quiet for more than a minute is useful in my mind," Snape said.

Addera lashed her tail (now it was free of miniature mind-controlled humans and phoenixes) and turned to me. —I want to look at him, Harry Potter. He sounds like a Slytherin.—

"He is a Slytherin—the head of Slytherin House," I said.

—Now I want to look at him and bite him. What do you think he tastes like, Harry Potter?—

"Now-now." Dumbledore, I could see, was having trouble holding back a smile. "We need to focus on this problem. To keep the students calm I've erected a concealment charm facing inwards, and to stop any incidents should a muggle see the school, I mirrored it facing outward.

"This is serious magic, Harry. Please don't press it to act. Should you find yourself outside the barrier, you will not find your way back inside."

Ron finally seemed to have enough. "Look, I think I've been a good sport about this, but I have no clue what you're all talking about. The last thing I remember is Harry turning into a horse with a floating book, and—"

My blood ran cold. "Ginny!" I turned and looked around, but the book was nowhere to be seen, until Addera passed me the diary, a smug look on her equine face.

—You need to work on your charm duration, Harry Potter.—

Dumbledore moved quickly, striding up to me and taking the book from my hand. "This is dark magic, Harry. This—" He stopped as he actually looked at the diary. "Harry, explain what you saw again."

"W-When, sir?" I asked.

"When you fought Tom and this king," Dumbledore said.

I tried to think back to what had happened, focusing on the event. "He—King Sombra—sounded benevolent about it, like he was sparing me only because I'd helped him. I didn't mean to, but the choice was—"

"It's alright, Harry. Keep going."

"Then Tom, when the King was doing something to him, did something that grabbed Ginny and threw her—threw her out of her body!" The revelation of my own memories surprised me. I blinked and tried to peer closer at the diary, which was blurry because I'd managed to incinerate my glasses. "Is she in the diary, Sir?"

"That's what we need to find out. Severus?" Dumbledore held the diary out toward Snape.

—No,— Addera said, and moved fast. Before Snape could so much as react, and before Dumbledore could evade, she'd slivered across the floor, grabbed the book, and returned to my side. She wasn't just fast, she was predator-fast.

"I assure you, Miss, that we mean it no harm." Dumbledore held his hands wide, the classic pose of someone trying to show they have nothing offensive. He was a wizard who could cast without wand or word, so it was a lie.

Ron stepped up beside Addera and reached out for the diary. "I can find out if Ginny is in there. Harry, you said you could talk to Tom inside it, how did you do that?"

—You trust this friend, Harry Potter?— Addera asked.

"Yes, Addera, I trust Ron," I said to Addera, then I turned to Ron. "You write in it. When Tom Riddle was in there, he could rearrange the writing to answer questions."

"Bloody perfect!" Ron said as Addera passed him the diary. "Professor Dumbledore, can I please borrow some ink and a quill?"

Writing implements were obtained quickly and Ron was given somewhere to write. Charging a quill with ink, he started writing.

Ginny? Are you in there?

Yes.

Ron almost bounced in his seat. "She says—"

"Ask her something, Ronald Weasley, that only you and your sister would know," Snape said, his voice riding the edge between boredom and command.

"R-Right! Uh…"

Ginny, I need to ask you something personal, that only you would know.

There was no reply, which was a reply in itself.

Ginny, when I was little, what did Fred and George do to my stuffed toy?

It was hard to read his writing, and not just because he was reasonably terrible at writing legibly. Glasses were shooting higher and higher on the list of things to fix.

What you fear the most. They turned your teddy bear into a huge spider.

"It's Ginny. There's nine people what know that, and she's one of them. Dad made 'em all swear not to tell anyone else about it." By the way Ron was spilling the beans, I could tell he was just happy the confirmation was a success.

What happened to my body?

The question appeared without the application of a quill. It was Ginny asking.

"Y-You should probably tell her, Harry. You know what happened." Ron started to pass me the quill, then stopped. "How are you gonna write?"

I had no clue. The only way I'd managed so far was using the levitation charm, but I needed fine control to hold and use a quill.

"Mister Potter," Snape's tone was already filling me with dread that I'd overlooked something simple. "Use—"

"Harry. Locomotor should do the trick. Several wizards use it to write on blackboards, and I remember one student using it to fill out an entire board during detention." As Dumbledore spoke, he glanced sideways at Snape. There was a story there I was sure I'd love to hear.

Right. Locomotor. I looked at the quill in Ron's hand and focused my mind upon it. Pushing magic down my horn, I began the incantation, "Loh-koh-mot-tor!" As power rushed through me, I felt it as an extension of my body. The quill had floated from Ron's fingers, and as I thought about it, it flicked left and right, then up and down.

"Cor, Harry, that's pretty amazin'." Ron sounded duly impressed. "How're you doing that without moving your wand—uh, head?"

The quill froze and I turned to look at Dumbledore.

"I'm sure being able to do it without gestures was entirely because of your new—ah—wand." As Dumbledore's smile warmed, Snape's expression closed down until I could have sworn he felt no emotion at all. "Go ahead, Harry."

"Right." I turned to the book, floated the quill to the inkwell and charged the tip.

I found you in the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle draining you. He sent his serpent after me, but I got the upper hand and confronted him. Then something strange happened. Smoke or something leaked out of the crystals and

I waited for that lot of ink to fade, but as I did some words appeared.

Please, go on, Harry.

the stuff leaked out of the crystals and it sank into you. Then the ghost of Tom Riddle entered you as well, and

While I paused to compose myself, I watched the words fade.

and then Addera offered to help me. She's the serpent. She doesn't like Tom (he's Voldemort, you know?)

The writing faded once more, and again new words started appearing.

I know, Harry. His memories are still in here. What happened next?

I came into your head too, and that's where I met King Sombra. He and Tom were fighting, and I thought he couldn't be worse than Voldemort, so I helped him defeat Tom. I messed that up, and the King stole your body for his own. He was doing something bad to Tom, and Tom shoved you into the book befo—Tom's dead. DEAD dead.

Thank you, Harry.

What for?

For doing whatever you could for me. For saving this much of me, I guess.

I lifted my hoof up and stroked the page as her words faded. She thanked me. Thanked me! I stared at the diary without writing anything more for I don't know how long. Then, at last, I lifted the quill for more ink.

I'll help keep you safe until we get your body back, Ginny.

Thank you, Harry.❤

A love heart? I stared at the ink as the little symbol faded.

"What's it all mean, Headmaster?" Ron asked.

"Ahem!" McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing all our attention, then she looked at Dumbledore. "Albus?"

"As you are both well aware, I was removed from my position as headmaster of the school." Dumbledore's words hit me like a hammer. After everything that'd happened, I'd managed to forget the meeting in Hagrid's cottage before the incident with the spiders. "However, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall has permitted me to stay on now that there is an opening."

I stared from Dumbledore to McGonagall, dumbstruck.

"I've given Professor Dumbledore, our new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, some time to move his things from my office. How long do you think it will take, Albus?" McGonagall had set aside all her usual stoic expression and wore the craftiest smile you'd ever see on a witch.

"Thank you, Headmistress. I should have everything moved the moment we're back somewhere safe," Dumbledore said.

"This is acceptable. I must say, it will be a novel experience having someone competent teaching the class again." McGonagall's eyes crinkled up at all the smiling she was doing.

"And," Snape said. "I could add the same for our headmaster. " He gave Dumbledore an impossible to read look, and to my shock Dumbledore smiled back and nodded! "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office trying to establish our Floo Network again. Let me know when you have a suitable story fashioned, so I can keep up my end of it. Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore." With that Snape turned and walked out of Dumbledore's (old) office.

"I honestly don't know why you—" Ron clamped his mouth shut, realizing who he was speaking before and where he was speaking. "Can we go now, S—Ma'am?"

Harry, don't leave me here.

My eyes barely caught the words before they faded. I gulped hard, charged my horn with magic, and said, "Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!" Ginny's book floated off the desk and to my side. Remembering others were present, I turned to look at Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Sorry. I just thought—"

"I can think of no one better to look after her for now, than her brother and his best friend. We do," McGonagall said, "have one more thing to discuss, then I want to see you in my office."

Keen Eyes was a stallion famed in the E.U.P. Guard scout regiment for his vision. It was his special talent that more than made up for his poor magic. His yellow mane was pushed back from his eyes and gathered at his neck with a thick and warm scarf that matched the off-white tone of his fur.

It hadn't snowed for almost a week, which left the ground green with a sea of new grass. It was a beautiful time to visit the cold north of Equestria, but Keen Eyes wasn't visiting. Every day for the last year and a half he'd sat out on the northern side of the stone tower on the northern edge of Equestria—and watched.

"You think it's going to snow?" Flagessio asked. She walked out of the tower door and sat on the parapet beside Keen. Born on an isle on the western edge of the North Luna Ocean, Flagessio's voice had an almost trilling tone to it. She didn't watch the north—she watched Keen Eyes.

Keen took his famed eyes off the mountains to the north long enough to spot the mug Flagessio was passing him. Plucking it up with his magic, he brought the steaming coffee mug to his lips and sipped. "I don't know. Weather pegasi don't come this far north, it's all wild and chaotic weather."

Flagessio smiled a bit wider at the happy sigh her coffee brought forth from Keen's throat. Part of her personal kit had been a cold-press and as much of her favorite coffee from home as she could carry, and combined with her skills in brewing it had made Keen a coffee aficionado. She fluffed her wings to gather more air under them.

A flicker from the corner of her eye made Flagessio jerk her dark-blue face around and look north. Another flicker. "Keen!"

"I see it." Keen dropped the coffee and grabbed up his notepad. Straining his eyes, he fixated on the flickers. Normal eyes—non-magical eyes—wouldn't have seen the pulsing light for the complex interplay of magic that it was. It wasn't random light and it wasn't random magic. "It's happened. Laggie, it happened!"

"I'm going to miss you, Keen." Flagessio set her own mug of coffee on the parapet and loosed her wings on her shoulders. She wasn't a fancy flier, not Flagessio, but what she lacked in maneuverability she more than made up for with speed and, after years of training in the Guard, stamina.

"I'm going to miss you too. You know I can't brew coffee the same." Keen would regret the coffee later, but the joke made Flagessio's imminent departure a little easier to take. While he wrestled with his feelings and spoke, Keen's magic was working overtime scrawling a description of what he saw onto the parchment.

At last, when he had nothing else to write, Keen Eyes rolled the parchment up and touched his magic seal to it—the seal of the Scout Regiment. Anypony who saw it would take the scroll to the Guard, and the Guard would speed it to Princess Celestia herself. Keen hoped that path would never need be taken. "Fly safely, fly swiftly."

Flagessio took the scroll and put it in her saddlebags. Saddlebags she'd worn so long as she was awake for over a year just in case this happened. "I love you, Keen."

Keen Eyes blinked in surprise. "I love you too, Laggie."

Stepping off the side of the tower wall, Flagessio spread her wings and caught the dense, chill air with her feathers. One pump. Two pumps. She had her altitude and began pumping harder—forward. This was her duty, and she had to get word of the Empire's return to Princess Celestia.

Author's Notes:

So I do this "Ask X" thing. X can be any pony within the story. You can ask them anything and they will definitely, hopefully reply. Keep the questions appropriate to the age-rating of the stories, and they will answer the best question in the author notes of the next chapter. The more votes a comment has the more likely I will get it to the right pony to answer. Try to keep it to one question per post! They will pick one question per chapter.

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"Harry Potter, you should be able to tell me what I'm about to cast." Minerva McGonagall was stoic in that anything could be used to teach. Her office wasn't tiny, but with her, Addera, Ron, and myself it was starting to get a little cramped.

It didn't take a vast intelligence to answer her question. Anyone who'd paid any attention in second year transfiguration class would be able to say, "Reparifarge."

My answer got a rare smile from Professor—no, Headmistress—McGonagall. "Very good. I hazard to guess that it will fail. Anything capable of turning a fully functioning wizard into another fully functioning creature, and a basilisk into,"—McGonagall paused a moment to look at Addera—"whatever you are, miss Addera, is likely more than a match for the simplest of restoration spells. But, why use a hammer when a prod will do."

Flicking her wand out, McGonagall pointed it toward me. "Reh-pah-ree-fahj!"

I felt as her magic lanced out and wrapped around me. It was like being bound up in a tight woolen jumper, then the knitting was plucked and the whole thing unraveled. From experience, I knew that unraveling should take whatever transformation charm was on me and whip it away.

"Just as I suspected. Well then, Ron Weasley, what should I use next?" McGonagall asked.

Ron, looking shocked still from when the reshuffling of the school's hierarchy was revealed, looked like he was trying to invent a spell from scratch. Then, almost by magic, his expression brightened. "R-Revelio!"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the answer, then nodded her head. "Very good Mister Weasley. I'll have to ask, though, how did you learn of a third-year spell in second year?"

"My dad, Ma'am. He used an invisibility charm on his car, then couldn't find it. He said Revelio could be used to undo most transfiguration magic." Ron turned to look at me for a moment, as if asking me to back him up. One day I'll just tell him I don't know all of magic. That's why I'm at Hogwarts, after all.

"Your father was correct. Revelio is one of the most powerful counters to transfiguration, which is why we teach it in transfiguration class and defense against the dark arts. Now, hold still again, Harry." Again McGonagall raised her wand at me. "Reh-vel-ee-oh!"

This surge of blue magic was much more powerful, and she wove her wand into the pattern of an eye. A shiver ran from the tip of my tail to the end of my nose—then back again.

"I believe this spell is as stubborn as you are, Mister Potter. Speh-see-ah-lis reh-vel-ee-oh!" This time there was no rush of magic into or around me, only a wave of soft power that seemed to float around. McGonagall looked me over carefully. "I can see many things about you with this spell, Mister Potter, but I cannot see any transfiguration magic. Nor can I see a particular curse that I know should be there.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were not Harry Potter at all, but you've already convinced me well enough that you are. Right now I am examining all the charms, curses, hexes, jinxes, and transfiguration magic in effect upon you. Mister Weasley, explain what you see."

Ron looked at me, peered around, even crouched down to look under me (which I didn't appreciate, but suffered through all the same). "I don't understand, Ma'am. I don't see anything."

"Precisely, Mister Weasley. And do you know why you don't see anything?" McGonagall asked.

"B-Because there's nothing to see?"

"Ron Weasley, I'll make a transfiguration expert out of you yet. Five points to Gryffindor." Turning around, McGonagall seemed to be looking for something on her bookshelf. "Under most circumstances, when you can't find something, it is because you are not looking hard enough. I can assure you we are looking hard enough. Therefore, what we're looking for is not there. You are not under any form of transfiguration magic, Mister Potter."

I'd had enough. I stomped a hoof on the stone floor in anger. "So if there's no transfiguration magic on me, why am I still a little unicorn?"

"That's simple, Mister Potter." McGonagall pulled a book she selected from the shelf. "You are a little unicorn. There's nothing else for it. This is your natural form. Whether it is caused by the apparent translocation of Hogwarts, or by something unrelated—this is what your body is."

—She makes sense, Harry Potter. Don't you feel comfortable like this?— Addera asked. —I do. It's unnerving how relaxing it is.—

"So how do I become human again? A wizard." While I spoke, I tried to avoid reaching for the feelings Addera had mentioned, but they came all the same. I took a slow breath, then let it out just as slow. Damn, I feel good.

"That is the crux of the matter, is it not? I can do it, of course, but there's no telling what the effect will have upon you long term. You are, Mister Potter, a little unicorn. You will have dreams and desires as a little unicorn, and one day you may well find another little unicorn to have little unicorns of your own, but until then, let me see about giving you a little time as a wizard." McGonagall set the book down on a lectern and opened it. "Now let me see. Ah, here we are.

"Ho-morph-us e-tern-us!"

The spell was nothing I'd heard before. Power boiled in a blue light from McGonagall's wand. Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes piercing as they watched me.

The magic wrapped around me and boiled into me like sweat on a balmy summer's day, but completely backwards. It was just about the most horrible feeling ever. I watched as a the fur on my forelegs fell out, and more legs themselves stretched and grew hands. I grew hands. The muzzle obscuring the middle-bottom part of my vision (that I'd barely noticed when it was there) pulled back into my face.

More changes, speeding up, rushed through me, but none was so shocking as my horn pulling into my head. I know I screamed, but I couldn't stop it. The pain was almost unbearable, but it soon stopped. I came to wrapped in tight coils and with a soft hoof rubbing my cheek. "A-Addera?"

—You expected some other snake? Harry Potter, this isn't you.—

"Get off me, Addera." I tried to stand, but when I started to fall over, I stopped.

—You don't want me to get off you, Harry Potter,— Addera said.

Arms were strange to get the hang of after even so short a time as a little unicorn. I tried to push at Addera, and finally had had enough. "Addera, off."

—Don't say I didn't try to help you, Harry Potter.—

The feel as Addera slowly slithered off me was, without a doubt, unique. Her scales were soft, and slid like silk across my skin. Only when she was fully off me did several things click together. Scales on skin. I'd been wearing just my fur. I was naked. "I'm naked."

—I warned you. I tried to do my sworn duty and protect your honor, Harry Potter, but you commanded me to abandon you in this time of need.— If ever a snake could sound smug, Addera did right then. She stuck her tongue out at me and everything.

Anger would be quick to come, but I clamped down on it and let pure embarrassment reign instead. "C-Can I have some spare clothes, Ma'am?" Of course I used my hands to cover myself. This was insufferable.

"Give me a moment, Mister Potter. I keep spare robes of various sizes—Believe it or not, you are not the first student I've changed back into a human state, and you'll probably not be the last." As she spoke, McGonagall turned and made her way to a closet. I lost focus on her thanks to not having my glasses.

"Miss! Uh, Ma'am?" Ron, when I looked at him, had gone white as a sheet. I followed his outstretched arm and finger with my eyes, but tracking it only led to McGonagall, who I couldn't make out.

"What is it, Mister Weasley?" McGonagall asked.

Ron gulped and kept pointing. "Y-Y-Your tail, Ma'am."

McGonagall spun around and stalked toward us. She tossed an old robe toward me (it hit me in the head because I couldn't judge it well enough to catch) and turned on Ron. "Mister Weasley, I would know if I'd grown a tail, or—"

Stopping mid-sentence, McGonagall reached behind herself with one hand. Her normally pale skin tone bleached to the color of old bones. "This is most unexpected. Return to your dormitory and remember the little story Dumbledore told you."

"Do I still need to talk about the little unicorn bit? Now that I'm back to normal and all." The robes, as I pulled them on, were scratchy and harsh against my skin. Everything felt strange now. I felt like I should be the one with a tail.

"I have the most horrid feeling that despite my best efforts, that spell will not be as permanent as we'd otherwise hope. So it would be best to let them know you have a condition, and things are being tested to correct it. As for your companion…" McGonagall turned and looked at Addera. "Having seen Mister Potter's mouth so expertly manipulate the English language, there's no reason you can't do the same. Given your understanding of English, I see no impediment to you speaking it. You can hardly be a student of Hogwarts and only speak parseltongue."

—I take it back, Harry Potter. I don't like her anymore,— Addera said. —Maybe I should just look at her for a few minutes. I wonder how long it would take before she'd be your servant forever?—

"Hold on. You're making her a student?" Ron asked. "How is that going to work? She doesn't have a wand! And she's not a—"

McGonagall turned her full attention on Ron—the poor bugger. "Mister Weasley. You are expected to keep to the same story, and part of that was the origins of Miss Addera here. Until the end of the school year, she will be considered a student and guest of Hogwarts. What has been done to her should not be done to any creature, and we owe her a debt for what one of our founding fathers did to her. Do I make myself clear?"

—She is nice, Harry Potter.—

"Now, off to your dorm and take Miss Addera with you."

Back in Gryffindor house, past the portrait of the Fat Lady, I felt somewhat safe. I turned for the hall where Ron and my beds were, and froze. Fred, George, and Neville were all looking at us as if we had a monster in our midst. Which we did. Addera insisted on slithering at my side all the way into the Gryffindor common rooms.

She looked to be balanced precariously, the forelegs she now possessed folded against her, but I knew she was reasonably comfortable upright. As comfortable upright, in fact, as I wasn't. It didn't feel right. I wanted to drop to all fours. "This is Addera."

"Why's her eyes closed?" Fred asked.

"And why's she a snake-horse?" George asked. Both of them walked closer. "Can you see?"

—Please, Harry Potter, can I open my eyes now?— Addera asked.

"She has a condition!" Ron's exclamation drew both his brothers' attention. Under the look of Fred and George, I could see any hope that Ron would keep a single part of the planned story a secret evaporating. "And Harry. They both do! You should have seen what happened when he—"

I stepped between Ron and his brothers, which meant I was invading all their personal space. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, his brothers both grunted. None moved away from me. "We were going to save Ginny."

"Ginny? Is she okay?"

"What happened?"

All games with their brother stopped as the twins focused their attention on me. "She's okay, in a manner of speaking." I reached into the big pocket of my borrowed robes and pulled out the book—Ginny's diary. "You see, there was a problem with an old artifact."

"Right!" Ron shoved up beside me, his urge to tell all the falsehood as poorly as possible reasserting itself. "She's a book now."

"She's in the book. We got in a fight with a bad wizard, who was controlling the basilisk. Addera,"—I pointed to Addera—"helped us fight the basilisk, but in the battle the wizard got away and Ginny got turned into a book. I—"

"Harry's a little horse! A unicorn!" Ron said loudly.

I heard a soft hissing, and noticed Addera blindly staring at Neville. The two were silent at first, but then Neville spoke softly to her, and though she didn't say anything in reply, she nodded or shook her head moment to moment.

Fred rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about, Ron? 'E's not a horse."

"Or a unicorn," George said.

"McGonagall thinks she has the curse on me removed, but she needs more time with Ginny." I had nowhere to back away to, and both Ron's brothers were focused on the book now. "She can talk to you."

"Ginny! ARE YOU OKAY?!" George reached for the diary from one side, but it was ultimately Fred who grabbed it—her.

"How'd you go and get yourself turned into a book? How're you meant to talk like this?" Fred held the diary in the air and shook it—her. "Is there some kind of spell?" Fred froze as the diary flopped open, and he read some words inside. "George?"

"What?"

"It really is Ginny." Fred reached out, holding the diary open, to show two full pages writing. "Th-There's three more pages of it. She sounds angry with us."

"How do you know it's really Ginny? It could be Ron trying to pull the wool over on us." George watched skeptically as words started forming in the diary. I couldn't read them, but a moment later George grabbed the diary and slammed it closed. "It's her!"

Ron had his hand over his mouth—trying not to laugh. When he noticed my confusion, Ron pulled the hand away and fought through an attack of giggles. "Ginny has dirt on all of us. I didn't know George had turned a toad into a girl and—"

"I didn't do anything!" George had, somehow, turned redder than usual.

Fred snatched the diary from George and reading a bit more, passed it back to me.

"Why are you giving it away? All we have to do is tie it shut and she can't tell anyone anything!" George made a grab for the diary, but I quickly stepped back behind Addera.

"Because Mum and Dad will find out. Do you have any clue how mad Mum will be if she finds out we tied Ginny up and wouldn't let her speak?" Fred took a long step back from Addera and I. "Not on your life am I gonna get involved in this."

All the moxy seemed to drain from George's face, or what I could make out of it. "Mum'd string us up by the washing line. By our ankles. Without our wands."

"Anyway," I said. "I'm going to get my spare glasses and want to check up on Hermione. Are you coming, Ron?"

"I'll come." Neville surprised me with his insistence.

"Yeah yeah. Keep your hair on." Ron glanced at Addera, and I could swear he shuddered as he did. Of course he'd still be feeling strange about having been hypnotized by her—I still felt strange about what she'd done to me.

Addera's eyes were, from what I remember, beautiful. I shook my head to clear the slight fuzz that just the memory of her gaze caused, and stomped off to my bunk. Addera followed me into the first and second year dorm. The quiet sounds of sleeping boys were obvious.

—She's right, Harry Potter.— Addera's voice was mercifully low, apparently she could feel or smell the others sleeping.

"Who's right, Addera?" I asked while I searched for the case my spare glasses were in.

—Headmistress McGonagall. I need to start speaking English instead of parseltongue. How else, Harry Potter, will anybody take my threats seriously?—

"I take your threats seriously, don't worry. I still get chills when I remember your eyes." I located my glasses and lifted them out and straight onto my face. The world—the part encompassed by the wire rims—came into focus. I had nearly a tenth of a second warning before Addera was pressed against me, one of her hooves under my chin to hold my jaw up.

—You think my eyes are pretty, Harry Potter?—

Her mention of her eyes made the wisps of fuzz curl around the edges of my mind. I screwed my eyes closed in case she were about to open hers. "They looked nice."

—You said 'beautiful'.— Addera's last word was said, mimicking my own voice, in English. Her voice was pretty, not at all like what cartoons would portray a snake as sounding like. There was no hint of hissing, for a start.

I thought back, really focused on the time I'd looked into her eyes when her whammy didn't work, and it surprised me. "Addera, when I was blasting the rocks away, you looked at me and it didn't mesmerize me."

Addera let out a soft chuckle, the actual sound of which was more like repeatedly saying the word hiss. —I wonder about that myself, Harry Potter. You're changing the topic.—

Turning for the door that led back to the common room, I paused a moment. Bloody snake. The worst bit was she was right. "I said beautiful, but only because I was under your control." More reptilian laughter followed me as I left the room.

"You got everything, Harry? You're still wearing those borrowed robes," Ron said.

I groaned and turned around, stomping back to the shared dorm room. Inside, I quickly lifted off the robes and dumped them on my bed. I looked in the one mirror we had in the room and looked at a stranger. The being standing upright had a mop of black hair, glasses, and pale skin that was almost completely furless.

Shivering, not sure exactly how to take the feeling that the body I'd had all my life was somehow alien, I reached into my things for the backup robes and clothing.

—This isn't you, Harry Potter. Your body is soft and weak. Your true body is almost indestructible thanks to my scales, and you had a wand.—

Addera was behind me, watching me, which meant I couldn't turn around or risk getting lost in her eyes. She might lack the words to order others what to do, but she could whisper to me in parseltongue and I'd do anything she wanted.

But Addera was right about one thing—I was wandless now. "We'll go to Gringott's and get some money for a new wand and new glasses. This is my body, Addera." Underwear, socks, shirt, vest, trousers, jacket, and robe over the top. In the mirror a wizard now stood, but I still had to struggle to recognize him.

As I turned, I caught the faintest glimpse of Addera's eyes closing. "And we'll get you something to hide your eyes so you can walk around openly."

—I don't walk, Harry Potter.— Addera proved her words by slithering around me so that the door was the only place I could go.

"You know what I mean. Come on." Focusing on the door, I tried to shove out of my head how wrong it felt walking. My arms swung at my sides, and nothing felt right. What's more, it was getting worse, and I think Addera knew it.

Ron and Neville fell in with me—both walking on the opposite side from Addera—and we headed out together.

As soon as we were past the Fat Lady, Neville cleared his throat. "You're not the real Harry Potter." Neville's wand slowly raised to point at me. "You don't walk right, for a s-start, and when I used Mum's—You're covered in transfiguration magic! Tell me who you are, or we're going straight to Dumbledore!"

That's when it occurred to me that neither Ron nor myself had a functioning wand. I gripped Ginny's diary a little tighter. I didn't have time for this, nor the patience. "Of course I'm covered in transfiguration magic. I just came from McGonagall's office, remember?" I took a slow, sideways step to make it harder for Neville to hit Ron and I with the same spell.

—Harry Potter, close your eyes.—

"What'd she sa—" Neville didn't get any further. He was gazing into Addera's face serenely. As his wand tip lowered, I let out a sigh of relief.

Addera was between Ron and I, but while my eyes were shielded from her gaze by the back of her head, Ron was slightly forward of Addera, and had he turned to her when she looked at Neville, he would have been mesmerized too.

"Cor. That ain't half useful." Ron was carefully looking at a painting on the wall to his side. "But a little more warning would be good. I nearly turned around to see what you wanted."

"You can't keep doing this, Addera. Neville wouldn't have hurt us. At worst he would have just canceled McGonagall's spell to see what I am." Though I had to give her credit, her gaze didn't actually hurt anyone, and it was a good way to stop people from causing harm. Harm like undoing all McGonagall's hard work.

I looked at Neville. The guy looked like he was in love. At a moment's notice, I expected him to launch toward Addera and hug her. He looked at her, in fact, as if she were the most enchanting creature he'd ever seen—which was probably true.

"So you just tell him what to do now, right? He'll do anything?" Ron walked up to Neville and waved a hand in front of Neville's face.

"Addera can't, since she only speaks in parseltongue. Because Neville doesn't understand it, she can't give him commands." As I spoke, I saw the light come on in Ron's eyes.

"Perfect!" Ron's smile widened. "Neville, you're going to go back to the dorm common room, and when you get there, you're going to find George and Fred's spare shoes and cast an arresto momentum charm on them."

—Oooh, I like him. Tell him I like him, Harry Potter.— Addera sounded excited as Neville turned around and walked back into the Gryffindor dormitory.

"Ron, you'll get him in trouble with that," I said. "I already don't like the way Addera uses this on everyone to solve the most minor problem, don't you get in on the game."

Ron and Addera, together, giggled. It was the most unnerving thing I'd ever experienced—akin to finding out a friend had gained the powers of a god, which wasn't far from the truth.

"I mean it, Ron. If you keep up pulling pranks like that, I'll…" I trailed off and tried to think of something. Then it hit me. "… I'll ask Addera to look into your eyes and make you do the same things you tell others."

—See, Harry Potter, this is why I like you. Your friend took a step, but you slithered past him. Very interesting to see such traits in one who follows the blood of Godric Gryffindor.— Addera sounded far too pleased with herself.

"You wouldn't," Ron said.

I turned and looked at him, and had to wonder what he saw that made his eyes widen in surprise. "Don't push it."

"Alright. Alright. It was only a little fun."

"Besides," I said. "If we do it too much, people will start to plan for it."

It took Ron a few seconds to catch on, then he grinned wide enough to put creases in his cheeks. "So, who'll we prank?"

We looked at each other for a moment, our smiles matching. "Malfoy!" we both said together.

—Who's Malfoy, Harry Potter?— Addera asked, pronouncing Malfoy as if it were in English.

"Who's Malfoy?" Ron asked Addera, to which she nodded. "Just about the worst. He thinks he's all high and mighty because his family are pure-bloods—like that even matters—and he keeps going on and on about why nobody's as good as he is. Typical Slytherin."

"Slytherin?!" Addera said, and rushed around Ron to be facing him—though she thankfully left her eyes closed. —What know you of Slytherin?—

"Draco Malfoy," I said, "Is in House Slytherin. Hogwarts is divided up into four houses. Didn't you hear Tom's ghost talking about this?"

—I spent much of my time, Harry Potter, not listening to that monster.— That Addera, a giant snake that could kill with a glance, would call Tom/Voldemort a monster was quite telling.

I knew what the problem was, though. "He who—Voldemort won't give you any more commands, Addera."

—What will you do, Harry Potter?—

A little anger twitched inside me. It shocked me how frightened Addera sounded. I looked at her closed eyes and could feel the intensity with which she was feeling. "I already killed him—twice—and helped kill his ghost. You could say I'm getting better at it."

Ron barked a laugh. "Practice makes perfect, right Harry? How many times before it sticks?"

—I have lived over a thousand years, Harry Potter, and yet you have lived barely twenty. Why do I trust you so much?— Addera asked.

Ron looked confused. "I missed that one. What'd she say, Harry?"

"She asked me why she trusts me so much." I reached a hand out to Addera's cheek and cupped it, then traced up the side of her head to one of her pointed ears—then I started rubbing it.

"Hang about. Don't you mean she asked why she should trust you?"

"No, Ron." I started off walking again, and Addera moved at my side so my hand could keep working. "I have no idea, Addera. But it's a little overwhelming sometimes." And it was! For all she could mesmerize with a glance, and probably still had poison enough to kill in minutes, she put her trust in me and I had to make sure it wasn't unfounded.

—Keep talking. It helps me think in English.—

Not just a basilisk that trusts me implicitly, despite being nearly a hundred times older than me, she also wants me to help her learn English. "I hope Hermione's okay."

—Are they one of the ones I petrified?—

"That was a question, right?" Ron asked. "Only, I'm starting to work out the inflection of those bits. Kinda like when Scabbers makes this odd squeak, I know he's wanting to know something. Awful intelligent, rats.

"You really are walking odd, Harry. It's like you're in control of a body that's not yours or somethin'."

"Don't remind me. I don't know why, but this doesn't feel right. And yeah, it was a question. Addera wanted to know if Hermione was someone she petrified. She was." The last bit I said to Addera. "She'll still be in the Hospital Wing recovering."

—How do I say "I'm sorry" in English, Harry Potter?—

"I'm sorry," I said, pronouncing the words carefully.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Addera wanted to know how to say it."

"Oh. For Hermione?"

—Yes,— Addera said. "I'm sawry."

"Sorry. More like ssorrry," I said.

"I'm sorry," Addera said, her words still sounding slightly off. "I'm sorry. I'm Sorry." —I sound different when I speak like that.—

I absently reached up and rubbed at Addera's ear again. "You sound really different, nicer."

Ron turned the corner and carefully opened the door to the ward where Hermione had been. Peeking inside, he waved us forward and slipped into the room.

The light was dim, but there were small lamps that were turned low, but it was enough to avoid tripping over anything. Laying in her bed, I could see Hermione holding something.

—This one was almost too brave. She thought that simply avoiding my direct gaze was enough. I had trouble getting her to— Addera cut short at the sound of movement.

Hermione had rolled over in the bed, wand aimed toward Addera. "I remember hearing you speaking parseltongue last time. I'm not going to fall for—Why is its eyes closed? Harry? Why are you rubbing the—That's not a basilisk!"

I looked around the otherwise deserted room and then back to Hermione. "She is and she isn't. Hermione, this is Addera. You can lower your wand."

"Adder-a?" Hermione looked down at her shaking hand, then quickly drew it back. "What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Addera said clearly. —That's all the words I have, Harry Potter. It will have to do.—

"She doesn't speak much English, Hermione, but she understands it. She wanted to learn how to say that to you."

"She is the basilisk?" Hermione asked, though now she'd lowered her wand, it seemed she lacked the strength to raise it again.

Ron shuffled past Addera, putting himself between her and Hermione. "Yes. But she was under Tom Riddle's ghost's control. He's Voldemort. It got a little hazy for a bit, but we're mostly alright."

"What about Ginny?" Hermione asked.

What about Ginny? That was a problem I'd helped cause. "She was being controlled by Tom's ghost, too. She didn't—"

"Another monster stole her body," Ron said and reached out to me. When I slipped the diary into his hand, he passed it to Hermione. "She's in the diary for now, but we're going to get her her body back. Right, Harry?"

"Right." I hope. "For now, she can talk to us through writing in the book."

Hermione looked at me as if I was the one sitting on a gurney, and probably in a mental institution. "What on Earth do you mean?"

"Here." I held out a hand, but when Hermione started passing me the journal, I shook my head. "No, I need a pen."

"Oh. Here." Hermione produced a regular ball-point pen from her robe. Not for the first time did I thank my stars she was muggle-born—most wizards would offer me a quill and ink.

Ginny, Hermione's here. She's okay. Everyone is. Addera just petrified them.

Hermione! You're really alright?

"That's Ginny's handwriting!" Hermione reached out and snatched the pen from my hand and started writing in the diary.

I'm alright, though no thanks to the basilisk. Is what Harry said true?

What did he say? It's not easy to listen.

Harry said a monster stole your body.

Yes. Tom saved me.

"If it wasn't for Tom's ghost, you wouldn't be in here, Ginny!" I said. When it appeared she didn't hear me, I wrote it.

Tom was mind-controlling you, Ginny. If it wasn't for him, you'd be in your body still.

He was sick, but he

The words stopped mid sentence. I glanced to Hermione, then to Ron—both shrugged at me.

Tom Riddle needed help, but he knew a lot about magic. You wouldn't believe some of the things he wrote in here. He had a whole section of the journal just for his spellcasting.

"Is she defending Voldemort?" Hermione asked. If Ginny could hear us right then, she didn't show it. "We'll sort it out later, I guess. Did anything else happen?"

"You know we're not supposed to tell anyone, but Dumbledore said that all of Hogwarts teleported when we were down there. Oh, and don't mention that Addera was the basilisk. We're supposed to keep that quiet, too." Ron looked proud of himself until he saw Hermione and I glaring at him. "What? We have to tell Hermione!"

Hermione lifted her nose just a little, the typical pose she assumed when she was about to tell someone off—for the first time in a while, it wasn't me. "While I appreciate the sentiment, Ronald Weasley, you should have listened to Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Professor," I said.

"What?"

"Professor Dumbledore. He got in trouble with all this Chamber of Secrets stuff. Headmistress McGonagall is in charge now. We came here from her office, she uh, helped me with a little problem, too," I said.

"Oh come off it," Ron said. "Now who's telling everything?!"

"At least this is personal. You're ready to tell everything to everyone we run into." As I spoke, I felt a flare of anger. I tamped it down as best I could. "Hermione, something down in the chamber turned me into a unicorn."

Ron nodded. "A little one."

Hermione giggled. "How little?"

"You believe me?" I asked.

"Not at all, but if Deputy Headmistress McGonagall is as crazy as all you have become, I have no chance of stopping—well—whatever it is that made you crazy." Hermione gave Ron and I glare before turning her attention to Addera (who had been sitting back quietly). "How tall was Harry as a—as a little unicorn?"

"This," Addera said, and crouched a little lower to hold her hoof out at roughly what height I was when I was ~~normal~~—a unicorn.

"Thank you." Hermione turned her attention back to me. "And I assume McGonagall dispelled it?"

"Nope!" Ron said entirely too cheerfully. "She tried everythin', and when it didn't work, she examined Harry for magic and found none. Not even the curse was there."

"So how did she turn Harry back, then?" Hermione asked.

"She didn't. She had to turn me into a human." My blood ran cold as I explained it. The words were the truth I didn't want to hear, and I'd been the one to say them. "She said—said I am a unicorn now, and this is only temporary until we can work out how the chamber did this to me."

"You're hallucinations. You must be." Hermione closed Ginny's journal and passed it to me. "Go away, hallucinations, I need more sleep." And, with that, Hermione rolled over and faced the other way. "And give my pen back."

Gingerly, I set her pen on the little chest beside her bed and backed away.

"Where're you goin', Harry?" Ron asked.

"To bed. Us hallucinations need our sleep, and passing out from magic overload doesn't count as sleep." I reached an unfamiliar hand out to Addera and rubbed one of her ears, while I used the other to slip Ginny's journal into a pocket.

Ron caught up with us as we left the Hospital Wing. "She wouldn't talk to me. She said she was sleeping."

"She doesn't want to deal with it tonight, Ron, and neither do I. This is all getting too crazy. I hope, when I wake up, I at least feel like myself again," I said.

Beside me, Addera leaned so that her head was against me, yet her body undulated and slithered like any other snake would. She still terrified me, but she also fascinated me. —You're staring, Harry Potter.—

"No I'm not."

—Yes you are. You can keep staring, Harry Potter, so long as you keep rubbing my ear like that. I never had ears before. I like them.—

"You're a strange snake, Addera." I kept rubbing her ear.

—And you are a strange unicorn, Harry Potter.—

"You're all crazy. Hermione too. I don't know why I put up with this madness. Back home I could have learned from me mum, but no. I had to come to Hogwarts like everyone else. And Ginny! If she'd just been home-schooled, she'd still have her body." Ron was in full tirade mode, but I knew it was just how he blew off steam. He followed Addera and I all the way back to our Gryffindor dorm-room but quietened down as we entered our shared bedroom.

I stripped off my spare things—they were actually my clothes from last year—and climbed under the covers so quickly that I didn't notice the elephant in the room. Well, the pony lamia. "You should probably go to a girls' room, Addera."

—I should, but I won't. None of you have anything I haven't seen before, and I would be upset if something came in here while you were asleep and killed you, Harry Potter. Most upset.—

Upset. She'd be upset if I was dead? I wanted to get angry, but even my recent spate of fury was no match for how tired I was. "Whatever." I pulled the covers up over my head, and tried to ignore the feeling of coils of snake climbing onto the bed.

Ginevra Molly Weasley stood in the snow and looked at the shimmering—to her magical perception—ward that grew from the ground and looked so soft, yet so dangerous. She shook her head. She wasn't Ginevra Weasley. "This is annoying," King Sombra said through the mouth of the pony body of Ginevra Weasley. "Where is my power? This barrier would be nothing before my full might."

For all his words, every time Sombra turned his attention toward understanding and attacking the barrier, the little girl whose body he inhabited—or the ghost of her—pushed into his thoughts. Taking her body had been a necessity, but in taking her body he had also taken the patterns in her brain.

It was such a lovely day. Ginevra turned her head from the barrier to look up at the beautiful sky and—

"Damn whelp!" Jerking his focus back from the barrier, Sombra struggled to regain his sense of self. He was an invader, and the weight of thousands of years would eventually reshape Ginevra's brain to his own needs, but in the meantime he had to put up with stray thoughts from a pre-teen girl.

Closing his eyes, Sombra turned his attention inward. "I'm going to kill you. You are nothing to me but an annoyance. Your entire life is a blink of my eyes. Die, Ginevra Molly Weasley."

In his head the little core of the girl whose body he stole shrunk and diminished, but didn't die. "It's only a matter of time. I tried to make it gentle, but you insist on dragging this out." In truth, Sombra was a little confused. Ponies normally just rolled over and died when in such a situation.

Feeling the presence in his head curling into a defensive ball, Sombra turned his attention back to the barrier. At first, he tried throwing power against it, but the barrier was slippery to his magic. Like a greased oven tray, nothing he threw at the barrier would do more than slide off.

Turning his attention to the edges—usually the weak spot in any magic formation—Sombra started teasing at the threads that seemed to be exposed, but no sooner did he have one coming loose than the barrier sucked it back in and reformed it. In short, he was getting nowhere.

"There are two ways to overwhelm anything. The first is with a huge precision strike." Pacing left and right, Sombra reached his magic out and felt for what he'd made thousands of years (of Earth history) ago. "The other, Genevra Molly Weasley, is with massed weapons. Can you feel them? All those minds slaved to mine? I am the key that fits their lock, and I control when they open."

Sombra knew that he was tormenting that little girl in his head, but she'd asked for it. She could have simply surrendered like the others, or bowed down and aided him. He crushed a few more of her precious memories from his mind.

"Now it's time to get serious."

Author's Notes:

Harry Potter: Do you realize you are nake at the moment?

I blinked in surprise. "Well, unless you want to get me some clothes sized for XXXXS quadruped, I've gotta go with what I got. What I got is fur that covers everything as well as my uniform ever did."

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Lab

What It Means To Be A Wizard

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"Is it his pet?"

"Maybe. He's a parselmouth, so I could see him havin' a pet snake."

"You should poke her." I recognized the third voice as Ron.

—Harry Potter. If you don't stop them from poking me I'm going to give them all a good looking at,— Addera sounded annoyed.

Not relishing the idea of an annoyed former basilisk, I tried to sit up in bed—which turned out to be impossible. Addera was spread all over me, some of her coils over my chest, and she kept me pinned to the bed.

"She's not a pet and you probably don't want to poke her," I said. "Addera, can you move off me?"

—You're nice and soft, Harry Potter, and warm too. I may not be cold-blooded, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate a warm snuggle.— She shifted, all of Addera's coils moving at once. I wish I could move, but all she'd done was shift a little.

"That's all snake?!" Seamus' normally calm Irish accent raised an octave and increased in pace.

Dean wasn't as quick to fall back. "Does it—she—bite?"

—No. She stares at little boys who ask too many questions,— Addera said.

I managed to move quickly enough this time. Shooting an arm out, I covered Addera's face just as she opened her eyes.

Ron, who had started turning away before I'd even started moving, had a hand over his own eyes. "I bet she just said something nasty! What'd she say, Harry?"

"She said she doesn't bite, and not to ask so many questions. She also hypnotizes people by looking at them." I kept my hand in place, even as Addera tried to knock it aside with her hooves. "Addera! You can't just go staring at everyone. Or biting them. I want you to promise not to unless it's an emergency."

—I won't. What your 'friend' did last night was hardly an emergency, but it would have required you, Harry Potter, to have been inconvenienced.— As Addera spoke, she used her hooves to make air-quotes. I tried to remember where I'd seen it recently that she could have, and remembered her conversation with Neville.

"That didn't sound like a promise," Ron said.

—I will protect you, Harry Potter, and I will protect myself. It is interesting being able to look at people and not killing them. Please take your hand away,— Addera said.

Feeling her close her eyes again, I drew my hand back. "It wasn't a promise. She said she won't make that promise."

"Well, I'm glad. You remember Neville from last night?" Ron took a step back and to the side. "He wasn't exactly an emergency… and he's still laying there."

"What?" I asked. Only when Addera moved a little more did I manage to climb out of bed. Walking over to Neville's bed, I saw him laying on top of it, fully dressed, staring up with a happy smile on his face. "How long's he been like this?"

"I don't know. Since he got in, I guess. I told him to go to bed last night." Ron waved a hand in front of Neville's face, but the boy didn't react.

"Tell him wake," Addera said. Everyone in the room turned to look at her. —If I'd known using English would get everyone to look at me, I'd have opened my eyes, too.—

"You can tell we're looking at you?" I asked.

Meanwhile, Ron had stepped up closer to Neville and leaned over him. "Wake up!"

"No! You gotta do it like a hypnotist. Out of my way." Dean elbowed Ron aside and leaned over. "On the count of three, you'll wake up. One. Two. Three!" He snapped his fingers right in front of Neville's nose.

—Clever,— Addera said. She turned back to me. —I knew they were looking at me because I could feel them moving and I could taste their breath on the air grow stronger.—

I stopped all my worries about the morning and just digested that. She could taste the breath of people, and use that to know when they were facing her. "Good thing I didn't have to fight you without my wand. Even blinded, you would have caught me no matter what I did."

—You fought clever, Harry Potter. You are certainly the most interesting unicorn I've ever met.—

"What happened to me? Why is my neck so sore?" Neville asked.

Addera's hissing laughter drew a smile from me. I couldn't help it. The situation had been so tense the night before, but now it seemed much less so. "You were going to dispell Headmistress McGonagall's work. Addera mesmerized you, and Ron told you to come back here and lay down."

"Yeah! Lay down!" Ron was quick to agree with my shortened version of the truth. "Besides, you can hardly tell he's a unicorn just by lookin' at 'im."

—He was doing so well, too. Are all your friends this predictable, Harry Potter?—

"What does he mean, 'unicorn'?" Neville asked. "I knew something was off…"

"Ron!" I fumbled about for my cleaning things and, for a moment, considered throwing them at him. In the end I settled on stomping out to have a shower.

In all the years I'd been washing myself, I'd never felt as self-conscious about it before. Everything felt wrong, right down to how I held the soap and washcloth. I worked as quickly as I could, and was out in record time. Half expecting to see Addera in the dorm showers, I made my way back to our room—apparently there were some things above even her ability to explain.

When I got back to the dorm room, I found Addera writing things down on a piece of paper for none other than Fred Weasley. The scene was utterly incomprehensible to me. When I stepped into the room, Fred folded up the bit of paper, nodded to Addera, and turned for the door I was walking through.

"Morning 'Arry. Don't mind me. Just makin' meself better acquainted with our newest student," Fred Weasley said. Just his presence here without George was worrying.

"Uh. Alright." Still clad in my bathrobe, I edged around Fred and looked directly to Addera. Thankfully, she had her eyes closed. "What was all that about?"

—He's a very nice young man, Harry Potter. Also, we're expected at breakfast. Apparently there will be an announcement about me,— Addera said.

Seamus was in the process of pulling on his own dressing robe. "'E also said no one's allowed to do any magic. Orders of Headmistress McGonagall. I still can't believe she's in charge now."

"Better her than Snape," Ron said.

Everyone in the room nodded, even Addera.

I grabbed up my spare uniform and robes and set about getting dressed in them. Thinking back, I remembered what Seamus had just said about spells. "Why can't we use magic?"

"No idea. You want to break the rules?" Seamus asked. His expression was practically a dare to do it.

Shaking my head, I shrugged. "No wand. Mine got burned." I realized I'd said something interesting when Seamus and Dean both turned their full attention on me. "Y-You'll hear all about it at breakfast." Their expressions didn't change. "It was all Fawkes' fault." Only Seamus still looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "I was told not to talk about it. I've already told you more than I should."

"See, Harry, you just have to tell us the truth." Seamus walked off, practically strutting.

Once Dean followed him, Ron turned to me. "And you think I'm bad at spilling my guts. You'll get us both in trouble." He turned and walked off in a threadbare bathrobe.

—He's right, Harry Potter. You could have made a lot of little lies up, but your first instinct was the truth. You're a curious creature.—

"What's so wrong with telling the truth?" I straightened my school uniform and began the grueling task of tying my tie.

—It's the easy way out, Harry Potter. Would you like to play a game that my mother taught to me?— Addera slithered around so her front end was right in front of me, which meant she was half draped on my bed.

I flipped my tie up and over, then tucked it through a lower loop, and pulled it straight. "What kind of game?"

—You need to lie all day, Harry Potter. Not big things, just all the little questions other people will bombard you with.—

"Of course not. That's silly. What if—" But my brain was already attacking the problem. What could I have said to Seamus and Dean that would have thrown them off earlier? What could I have said in the first case that wouldn't have gotten them interested in me at all?

—What if you had just told him you wouldn't do any magic then?— Addera's mouth spread in a fang-showing smile. —I could help you play the game, Harry Potter. Just ask me to open my eyes and I can tell you the rules of this game in a way that will ensure you play.—

"You're asking my permission to hypnotize me?" I asked. Damn, she hadn't even opened her eyes and I was already spellbound by the idea of it. "No."

—No to the eye-whammy, or no to the game?—

"No to the eye-whammy thing and no to the game. This is silly." I reached out for my robes and pulled them up and over my shoulders. "Come on. We can beat the others to breakfast and hear any gossip that's going around."

On our way to breakfast Addera seemed quieter than usual. Having thought that, I had to question my sanity. Yes, the thousand-year-old basilisk that owes me her life seems to be quieter than the rest of the half a day I've known her. Honestly, Harry, I think you're going daft.

Addera slithered along at my side. Her twenty feet or so of tail glided over the floor almost completely soundlessly. She never once had to hold out a hoof to feel her way despite not being able to see at all. When we reached the great hall, however, she froze a moment.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

—There are a lot of people here. Too many to focus on, Harry Potter.— Addera reached a hoof out to me and I took it instinctively. —I'll be relying on you.—

"There 'e is." George's voice was clear over the general noise of the hall.

Fred, sitting beside his brother, lifted an arm to wave us over. "And he brought Addera with 'im."

The entire hall went silent as everyone turned to see Addera. For nearly twenty seconds no one said a word. I thought the deafening silence would go on forever, but Headmistress McGonagall stood up. She'd been sitting in the headmaster's chair, of course, which was a clear statement to everyone present who was officially in charge now.

"Harry Potter. Could you escort Miss Addera to the front of the Great Hall. We've been expecting you." McGonagall was, as usual, hard to read. She looked at the pair of us like we were the least interesting people in the room. Well, I might be, but Addera was getting all the looks.

—They're all looking at us, aren't they, Harry Potter?— Addera asked softly.

"No. They're looking at you, Addera," I replied, equally as quiet. When I told her, I watched both her ears perk up. She seemed to hold her head a little higher and there was a bit more of a waggle to her slithering. "No need to overdo it."

—What is this all about?—

"I have no ide—" I cut my words short. McGonagall was holding the Sorting Hat. "Okay. Maybe I have some idea. She's going to put the Sorting Hat on your head, and it will pronounce which house you will be in."

"Gryffindor," Addera said in plain English.

I sighed. "Addera, it's probably going to put you in—"

—Don't you dare say it. And if the hat wants to associate me with his house, then Hogwarts will soon need a new hat.—

Biting my tongue to keep from laughing, I led the way up until we were both standing just before McGonagall. This close, and with my glasses on, I could see there was the hint of a smile on her face.

"Until the end of the school year, we have a new student staying with us. She will be attending classes more to assess her skills until we can find something better suited to her talents. This will require a very special sorting ceremony." McGonagall reached for the Sorting Hat.

Murmurs ran through the crowd, and the few I managed to pick up on were all mostly ribbing about "I bet I know what house she's in" or "heir of Slytherin and a snake are chums, big surprise." I tried to ignore them all. After all, I knew the whole heir of Slytherin thing meant Voldemort now.

"Turn around and face everyone, dear." McGonagall's tone had changed from officious to comforting. That she would spare comfort for a thousand-year-old basilisk was a little surprising. When Addera slithered herself around to be facing everyone, I heard as all the Gryffindor students rushed up to stand around me. I was surprised by their support, and even more surprised when I realized it was for me. "Right then. Good luck."

McGonagall set the Sorting Hat on Addera's head.

"Sl—" The hat barely got the first sibilant syllable out before its mouth crashed closed.

Addera's mouth twitched and moved, but no sound came from her.

The Hat, as I knew, was likely goading her on in her head. Addera wasn't speaking out loud, but her mouth moved as she thought her words at the hat. "A stubborn one, and full of fire. Maybe Rav—" the Sorting Hat said before, again, stopping. "Prideful. Stubborn. Loyal to a fault. There's only one house I can see deserving you."

Everyone seemed to lean a little closer. Addera's mouth was clamped closed, and I started closing my eyes just in case she got so angry at the Hat's choice she opened hers.

"Gryffindor!"

I was too slow in closing my eyes. I watched as Addera's eyelids started to part but my view was blocked by a cleverly timed push of the Sorting Hat such that it covered Addera's face.

"Miss Addera, I'll have you not mesmerize the entirety of the school on a whim." McGonagall had her reprimand tone engaged. "Now go and greet your housemates." And she was back to neutral.

It apparently didn't matter too much to the rest of Gryffindor that Addera wasn't exactly a wizard, nor that she was effectively a giant snake—she was now a Gryffindor. When she slithered up to me, I put my arm around her and gave her a hug. Others tried to shake her hooves, each touch seeming to surprise her.

Like a wave we carried each other back to our table. I managed to guide Addera to a seat that she carefully coiled her tail around before positioning herself on it.

The tell-tale tapping of a knife against a glass silenced us within three taps. I turned my head to look up at the head table and saw McGonagall settling back onto the throne-like headmaster's chair. It was Dumbledore that was tapping a glass.

"Excuse me everyone, but we have some more announcements," Dumbledore said. No sooner did he finish speaking than Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Hermione stepped through the big doorway. "Please, take your seats." He waited for my friends to rush up and sit at the table. "As you are all well aware, something happened last night. Not long after Governor Malfoy ejected myself from my position as Headmaster of Hogwarts, something very strange indeed happened. Mr. Potter did battle with a creature in the Chamber of Secrets, aided by the charming Miss Addera. Whatever the creature was, it did great harm to the most esteemed Professor Lockheart, Ginevra Weasley, and also activated the protective wards around Hogwarts.

"Furthermore, something very strange has happened to the grounds around the school, and we must ask all students to remain within the main school building until further notice. As you can see, Miss Addera has been turned into a most curious creature, though we assure you she is every bit a wizard. Ginevra is, we're sad to say, spending her time trapped in the form of a diary. Last but not least, Harry has been placed under a curse of unknown origin that, at times, may transform him.

"As you are all aware, there is a restriction on magic. The reason for this is that the very same curse that Harry is suffering under seems to be inflicting itself on anyone who works a spell. At this time we're sure we'll find a reversal for the effect, but until we do we ask non-lifesaving magics to be kept to an absolute minimum.

"Subsequently, the end of year examinations are canceled for everybody except fifth and seventh years. We will be holding yours the moment everything is resolved and it is safe to use magic freely again."

As always, Dumbledore's eyes scanned the crowd of students. My attention was on McGonagall. I remembered the moment last night when she'd grown a tail without realizing it, and I couldn't help but put things together. Her casting the spell that made me human again had done that, and if they were warning students not to cast anything it meant she hadn't been able to undo it.

"That is all… for now," Dumbledore said, and sat down at McGonagall's right side.

I leaned a little closer to Addera and whispered to her, —I'm kinda glad I can't cast right now. Comfortable as I felt as a unicorn, I don't exactly want to keep turning into one.—

—I was curious to learn spellcasting, too. Would you teach me, Harry Potter?— Addera asked.

Dropping back to English, my voice was well hidden by the general noise of all the students talking now that Dumbledore was done. "I'm pretty sure that once everything's sorted out, you'll be able to learn here."

Addera reached out with a hoof and plucked up a fork with it somehow, she then speared a sausage from one of the platters. —Yes, but then I'd have to start at first year, Harry Potter. I want you to catch me up to your level.— She brought the fat pork sausage to her mouth and gulped it down whole.

"Cor! Did you see that Fred?" George asked.

Fred quickly nodded. "I sure did, George. I have to wonder if our latest Gryffindor student could do that again, say, five more times?"

"What odds would you put on it, Fred?"

"I'm thinking two-to-one against. It was a fluke."

—Five is no challenge. Harry Potter, tell them to raise the betting to ten, and I'll take half of their earnings.—

I stared at Addera.

—Go on.—

"Addera says if you make it ten, she'll take half what you two clear," I said.

At my side, Fred put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me tight against him. "Keep it down, 'Arry. I like her plan, but,"—he leaned in so his mouth was so close to my ear that no one would hear him but me—"tell her to stop at nine."

Right. Now Addera was helping Fred and George grift our fellow students. —Addera, Fred said to stop eating at nine,— I said in parseltongue.

Addera's smile widened and she nodded to Fred. —Your friends are clever, Harry Potter. They're going to make me some glasses.—

"Some glasses?" I asked.

My question was overshadowed by Fred standing up. "Ladies and gents, girls and boys, and members of 'ous Slytherin." He gave the Slytherin table a sarcastic bow.

George jumped to his twin's side. "The newest member of house Gryffindor just told us she could eat a dozen prime-cut Cumberlands, whole. I told 'er no Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin could 'ope to match 'er."

I risked a glance to the head table, and though a few of the faculty were watching what was going on, none intervened.

"So pick your best, put your Knuts on the line and lets see which house has the best," Fred said. He turned to point at Addera, only to see her gulping down another sausage. "Slow down! We 'aven't started counting yet!"

Her confidence was what did the other houses in. Addera was reaching for another sausage as an older boy on the Hufflepuff table stood up and glared at the Weasley twins.

"Our Heidi could eat two dozen, couldn't you Hei? Thin as a rake she is, plenty of room for more food! All she needs is her lucky hat!"

The girl in question produced her witch's hat from her robe and set it on her head. She looked more mature with the hat on, and I immediately realized where I'd seen her before, the Hufflepuff quidditch practice.

"And she hadn't started eating yet, right Cedric?" George held out a hand to the tall boy I now knew was Cedric. "How many you think Addera can eat?"

Cedric paused, and I could practically hear the gears turning over in his head. He'd likely thought it was going to be bet on who wins, but George was playing a different game. "I'll put down money that your girl doesn't get down even eight more!"

Coins changed hands, and it was on.

"Don't worry, I got this." Of course he did. Crabbe stood up from his table beside Malfoy. He was a monster, standing taller than most of the students in his year, and wider than anyone from the year above us. He climbed over the Slytherin table to sit down beside Addera. "Might as well give up now."

—Looking at him would be against the rules, wouldn't it, Harry Potter?— Addera asked.

—Yes,— I said in parseltongue. —You probably wouldn't get paid.—

Addera grabbed up another sausage and ate it.

—How many of those could you eat?— I asked.

—Probably all of them. My belly, Harry Potter, is still reptilian. I could eat this oaf beside me and still ask for a sausage.— Addera's tongue lashed her lips in a sign of obvious delight. —These are a lot tastier than humans.—

That cute face, the little snout, the sweet ears poking from her mane—they all hid the fact that Addera had killed, had eaten, and had hunted humans. I'm not sure what of those three was the most terrifying, but it wasn't her killing. Technically, I'd killed Voldemort and his ghost now.

Another boy (named Marcus) sat down opposite Addera and then the betting started. George and Fred were taking bets from everyone, but the biggest bets were coming from the oldest of the Gryffindor house. When one put twenty Knuts, Draco jumped to his feet and rushed over to put fifty on Crabbe.

"What were you talkin' about?" Crabbe asked. "Bloody parseltongue shouldn't be in Gryffindor, and now you got two!"

"Addera had been stuck down there for a while, hiding from the basilisk. While the basilisk ate all the biggest prey, she ate the smaller things. A lot of smaller things." I looked past Addera to see a flicker of something I'd never seen in Crabbe's face before.

"Th-There weren't any spiders, were there?" he asked.

—Addera, I'm trying to put Crabbe off his game. Just nod,— I said to Addera, and of course she nodded with a big smile. "Yeah. Spiders. I bet their legs are crunchy." There it was again, a flash of disgust and fear. "But their bodies? I bet when she bites into them, they'd pop and all the yucky stuff would come out."

Crabbe had actually turned a shade of green now.

Letting out a hissing laugh, Addera opened her mouth and snapped her teeth together. —He doesn't like spiders, Harry Potter? Can you find me something that oozes to eat?—

I looked around the table while Ron's brothers took the last of their bets. Spotting an egg-in-a-hole with some crispy toast and what looked like a runny yolk yet to break. "You look like you could use a snack, Addera, try this."

Reaching to me with a hoof, Addera took the toast and egg and bit into it. The rich yolk ran down onto her lips, only to be collected by her long, forked tongue. The crunch of the toast was everything I'd hoped for.

Crabbe turned a particularly nasty shade of green and covered his mouth. If nothing else, Malfoy was going to lose all his money on this one.

Ron, who had been watching everything from beside me, reached across and grabbed the toast—which resulted in more egg spilling. "'Old your horses. Gosh you're so eager. What did they feed you down in the sewers, spiders?"

Addera, I could see, was having trouble not laughing.

"Alright ladies and gents, you each have a plate of twenty of the finest British pork sausages. This ain't a race—" Fred said.

"… unless it is," George said, cutting in on Fred, "in which case the first to twenty wins."

—I could eat all twenty, Harry Potter,— Addera said. She completely ignored the other three who started eating.

—I know, Addera. But you're not beating them, you're beating anyone who bet on you.— I pointed at the plate. "Are you going to start?"

Beside Addera, Crabbe held his first sausage in his hand, and had taken four big bites out of it so far—one remained.

Addera picked up her first sausage and just gulped it down. Then she followed it with a second. —These are delicious,— she said.

"And with just two mouthfulls Addera takes the lead!" Fred said, and got a cheer from all the Gryffindor students.

—I'm bored, Harry Potter. What else is there to eat?— Addera reached a hoof past her sausages and plucked up another egg-in-the-hole. —Is there anything to drink?—

I reached over for a cup of juice and passed it to her. "You should probably start eating sausages again. Crabbe's up to his third."

Folding up the toast, Addera crammed it into her mouth with a happy sigh and gulped it down. Then she chased it down with three sausages in a row. Then she picked up two and gulped them down at the same time.

Crabbe froze. I wondered what'd happened. He was staring down at his sausage with a look of panic. There was a piece of some kind of black seasoning that'd clumped together in his sausage right at the point he'd bitten into it. Combined with a little bit of gristle and a pocket of fat, and it looked for all the world like a bit of an insect.

I jumped to my feet quickly and grabbed the opening of my robe and pulled it around Addera to shield her. Ducking down behind the improvised shield meant all I could do. The sound of retching, and the feel of stuff hitting my robe told me it was a good choice.

Beside me, Addera reached for three more sausages, and ate just two of them. —That's nine.— She carefully set the third down.

Across from us, Marcus sat in shock at the mess Crabbe had made, while his counterpart, Heidi, held her wand out with one hand. She'd made an expert Protego, but what was amazing about it was she'd done it with a mouthful of sausage. She lowered her wand and let the spell hold for a moment longer before it faded.

Heidi was apparently on her sixth. She ate that, then reached for another.

—Tell them I'm full. I couldn't eat another sausage,— Addera said.

"She says that Crabbe's stink is so bad it's put her off breakfast." For a hot second I wondered if she had used her whammy on me and I hadn't noticed. I'd lied to help cover for her and it had come so easily it didn't feel like a lie.

"That means, Miss Macavoy, if'n you eat four more of those fat little pork sausages, you win." Fred elbowed George. "Imagine that? Our ringer put off her food by Slytherin."

"'Ardly surprising, Fred. They put me off my food on the best of days," George said with a smirk.

People were trying to clear away the mess that Crabbe had left, while Heidi kept eating. She was amazing, honestly. She got to seven, then eight, then nine. "I just need to eat one more bite, right?"

All the Hufflepuff students cheered prematurely. Heidi was already picking up her tenth Cumberland. She didn't just bite a mouthful off, Heidi Macavoy slowly ate her way through the whole thing.

"We have a winner!" George and Fred said together.

"House Hufflepuff proving themselves unmatched when it comes to eating, and making a killing," Fred said while George was paying people out.

I got up to make my way out of the Great Hall. My robe was filthy and I didn't have a wand to clean it with. Addera straightened from the table, grabbed a few more pieces of egg-in-the-hole, and turned toward the exit too.

Across from us, Heidi was surrounded by cheering Hufflepuff students. She reached up and pulled off her hat only for everyone to go silent. Sitting proud on Heidi's head were two fuzzy, orange equine ears.

"P-Put your hat back on, Hei." Cedric took said hat from her hand and plopped it back on her head. "Come on, let's talk to Headmistress McGonagall."

"What's wrong? What happened?" Heidi sounded actually worried. I could see fear in her eyes as Cedric put his arm around her.

A snort of derision sounded clearly over the quiet of the hall. Malfoy was sneering at Heidi and opening his mouth. "Typical for a mud-blood. You won't catch any pure-bloods turning into beasts."

Heidi hadn't quite turned away. She looked at Malfoy with disgust on her face. His words seemed to cut deep as tears welled in her eyes.

I'd had enough. I turned to look at Malfoy and felt my old companion—anger—rear up inside me. "Why don't you shove it, Malfoy. If you think your oh-so-pure-blood protects you, why don't you cast a spell?"

"Because I don't need to, Potter. I'd just get a beastly mud-blood to do it. Not like it will make much of a difference to them."

—Harry Potter, you need to calm down,— Addera said.

But her words were too little, too late. I took a step closer to Malfoy—he was on the other side of the Slytherin table—and I felt my anger coming to a head. "You annoying, little, piece of—"

My anger was pure, hot like Fawkes' flames. The world around Malfoy turned blue-white, and I had the utter delight of watching worry register on his face. "… crap."

I fell forward onto my hands. I looked down and saw the bleached skin and fingers fade away. I shrank, but I didn't shrink out of my clothes.

It was like I'd had a crick in my neck. Everything had felt tense and wrong, but now I felt right. Standing on four split hooves, I lifted my head back up from my black hide to stare at Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy's fear was palpable, but there was something inside him that hardened, or so it seemed. His eyes steadied and a grim sneer pulled at his lips.

He moved fast. Malfoy's wand came up and flicked a straight line before jabbing at me. "Im-ped-a-men-ta!"

I needed to lower my head and counter with a shield, but I could barely think straight enough not to incinerate Malfoy let alone build the focus to cast my own Protego. Given the alternative I was about to dive aside when instinct kicked in. Something inside me—the part of my anger that danced in the flames that surrounded me—urged me to open my mouth.

Turquoise light flared bright and lanced toward me like a thunderbolt. I could have dived out of the way or tried for a shield, but instead I did as felt right and opened my mouth. The bright light of Draco's spell grew brighter still, and it dove toward my mouth and inside.

A shiver of excitement ran through me, and the bright blue-green light of my flames seemed to grow. I felt a rush that made me want to burn Malfoy for daring to attack me! I wanted—

"Harry James Potter!" McGonagall's voice cut through everything. "What do you think you're doing? Wasting all my work and your spare clothes to boot." As she spoke, McGonagall drew closer and closer.

My rage tapered off as I realized what had happened. All around me things were burning, except for one item—Ginny's diary must have dropped out of my pocket when my robe burned. It was on the floor. "S-Sorry, Headmistress!"

Just like that the fire stopped. The flames winked out and I realized the world was a blur.

I hadn't realized just how silent the hall had become. No one was talking. Despite my ruined eyesight, however, I could tell that everyone was staring at me. "What?" I asked.

"'Arry, you turned into a unicorn again," Ron said.

As if by magic, Ron's words summoned muffled chatter to the room (though I have to say, if breaking silence was magic, then there would be not a single muggle in the world).

"Figures that you'd go too far as usual, Potter. Turning yourself into a monster just because your house lost a stupid little bet?" Draco grabbed hold of his robe and swished it as he turned. "Typical."

I was about to say something back when I realized what I'd just done. The spell that McGonagall cast was gone and I was—I was a little unicorn. Really little. I craned my head to look up at Ron and Hermione as they rushed to my side. "Uh—"

"You're a tiny unicorn," Hermione said. "You weren't lying."

I looked back to where Malfoy should have been, but he was gone. It was only odd in that normally he would have tried to make us back away—I guess losing Crabbe's support changed Malfoy's normal tactics.

—Harry Potter! You're back to normal.— Addera slithered around behind me. It was only as she got closer that I realized how much larger than me she was too. Everything was bigger than me!

But I realized something amazing—I had my "wand" back! I tried not to cross my eyes and look up at my horn, but I couldn't help myself. When I held my wand, I didn't feel any particular thing except the potential for magic, but this was so different—magic flowed through my horn.

"You're not going to catch on fire again?" Ron asked. "Only, I'd rather not burn up if I got too close to you." He looked at me as if he were serious, and I started to realize he was.

I shrugged my shoulders. "This is the first time since I—" I bit off my answer as I realized we were anything but alone and free to talk. "Why don't we go back to the common room and talk about it?"

A little yellow hoof poked through the ground—reminiscent of zombie movies. Another hoof poked out and the pair waggled in the morning light, then went still.

Nearly five minutes of the ground shifting later and four spikes pushed from the ground. White and metallic, they were heralds for the blunted snout of a dark mask. More of the mask emerged to reveal slit, green-glowing eyes.

With the ground broken, the yellow form wearing the mask emerged from the chill ground and stood free of its subterranean tomb. Slowly turning toward the north, puffs of condensing breath could be seen emerging from the snout at regular intervals.

The eyes of the mask flickered once, twice, and then a third time before one of the little yellow hooves lifted up and shoved the mask off.

"NO!" Tourmaline reared up on her back hooves, braced her forelegs out before her and brought them down on the mask. "No! No! No!" Each shout was punctuated by the smash of metal under rock-hard hooves. On and on she shouted until the mask looked more like a frying pan and was embedded in the ground.

"Daddy said masks are bad!"

Backing up a few steps and puffing hard, Tourmaline shook herself. She turned to examine the spiked armor that fit her badly. It was sized for a much older pony, and with a few wild bucks most of it was free from her form. She spent a good bit of time stomping all that too.

Panting, Tourmaline stopped her destruction and looked around. A little red hoof shoved free of the cold ground and wiggled. Gasping in surprise, Tourmaline bounded over and grabbed the red hoof, braced her back legs in the ground, and pulled.

A red foal emerged wearing a much better fitting armor and mask. Their green eyes flickered to life, and they turned to the north.

"No! Not you too!"

Trotting over to her friend, Tourmaline tried to pull their mask off, but it seemed to have a tighter grip on the red crystal pony foal's head than hers had possessed.

"This sucks." Looking around Tourmaline watched as other foals pulled their way out of the ground. She rushed to each to free them, but being the smallest in the school was both an advantage and a disadvantage. "I need to get help."

Scanning the horizon revealed a reflective flash of light to Tourmaline. Her ears perked up, and her face burst into happiness. "Stay riiight here. I'm going to get help!"

The filly galloped as fast as her little hooves could carry her right toward Hogwarts castle.

Author's Notes:

Addera. now that you are free from the chamber, is there any specific food you'd like to eat? I doubt being down there that long gave you much in the way of food.

While she looked at the words above, Addera raised one eyebrow. —Do I really need to say how much I love pork sausages?—

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Just as we reached the common room I had a moment of panic. "The diary!"

"Honestly, Harry, you'd forget your own head if it weren't attached." Hermione held out Ginny's diary to me expectantly for a moment, then she seemed to realize I had no way of holding it.

The number of times Hermione Granger got to feel superior to another wizard in a day was likely uncountable, but for the most part it was actual magic lore that she excelled. "Thanks, Hermione. Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!"

Magic flowed and sang through me like a warm rush of excitement. It felt good to work magic as a unicorn, and part of me was just fine with staying one if this was how it would always feel. Ginny's diary floated out of Hermione's hand.

"Harry!" Hermione said in her most nasal tone reserved only for when she got to tell someone off. "Didn't you hear Headm—Professor Dumbledore? No magic!"

"That's only for you lot." I couldn't help it, I strutted over to a couch and jumped up. "Since I'm already fully transformed, I can cast whatever I want."

"You hear that, everyone? Harry just volunteered to do our laundry!" Fred walked over and poked me in the shoulder then sat down beside me. "Now, who bet what? You lot did great to get those stinkin' Slytherin to bet everything they 'ad."

"What?!" I jerked around to look at Fred. "I don't know any spells to do that. I'd have to clean them by hand—err—hoof."

"Hermione can teach you. I saw 'er reading the fourth-year text, and I bet she knows it cover-to-cover," George said. He was already reaching into his robe to pull out the bag of coins he'd skimmed from the crowd. "Okay, who's first?"

I ignored the twins and turned my attention to Hermione while Fred and George handed back all the bets Gryffindor students had made. "You're learning fourth-year stuff?" I asked.

"What? Of course not! Professor McGonagall made me promise not to learn spells that would be taught later. Scourgify isn't taught as a primary spell. It's completely optional!" Hermione, as always, was technically correct. I imagined she used that phrase as her guiding light in all things. "And I'll teach it to you on one condition."

This was new. Hermione Granger putting a condition on showing how good she is at magic? "What is it?"

At that moment, however, Addera slithered through the entryway of the common room and over to us. Anyone in her way quickly jumped to the side, though she didn't look like she was going to collide with a single one of them. —There you are, Harry Potter.—

"Hi, Addera. What kept you?" I asked.

As she got closer, I was again surprised at how small I was in relation to—well—everything. Curling herself by the couch I was on, Addera lifted her pony-body up and sat "beside" me on the arm of the couch. —I was still hungry.—

"You were still hungry?" I asked.

"Hey, George, did you hear that?" Fred asked.

"I didn't, Fred."

"After the contest, Addera was still hungry and probably ate some more." Both brothers broke into gales of laughter that were contagious—at least I started chuckling, as did several other Gryffindor students nearby.

—Why are you laughing?— Addera asked.

"Because you showed the whole contest to be a sham. How much more did you eat?" With the way Addera had positioned herself, I actually didn't feel as intimidated by her size.

When a hoof touched my head, I knew it could only come from one source. Nonetheless, I tilted my head up to look at Addera. "What are you doing?"

—Helping keep you calm, Harry Potter.— Addera's hoof found one of my ears and began rubbing it. It was embarrassing, demeaning, and felt amazing. I meant to shove her away and tell her to stop, but her hoof kept rubbing and I had no hope of actually doing anything to stop her.

"Harry? Harry are you in there? E-Excuse me, Miss Addera, could you stop doing that to him?" Hermione's words came to me through a soup of relaxation, but they had the worst possible effect—the hoof stopped rubbing my ear.

I blinked a few times and looked around—there was not a male face to be seen. How much time had passed and what had happened while Addera was petting me, I have no idea. "What?" I asked.

"He is so cute!" Fay said.

"That's adorable!" Lavender said.

"And we'd all turn into that if we used magic?" Kellah asked.

Hermione, however, didn't wear the same starstruck expression of all the other girls. "He needs to learn this spell. Can you all please make room?"

"Who died and made you queen?" Kellah asked. "We were just watching him, Hermione. Look at how cute he is."

Cute? I was cute? I had no idea how to use this piece of information. Girls finding me cute had never been a problem before. "What spell do I need to learn?"

Pulling a book out of her robe, Hermione used it like a wedge to make room in the half circle of girls. "Scourgify. It's really quite simple. I have no idea why they don't include it in second year's Standard Book of Spells. The syllables are simple—"

"Wait!" I said. "Hermione, take out your wand and put it down. Unless you like being small, fuzzy, and cute too."

"I knew that." Hermione, if I had to bet, didn't think that far ahead. A prodigy of magic she was, but a scholar of common sense she was definitely not. She took out her wand and put it down on a nearby table then crouched down before me. "Now—Do you use your horn as a wand?"

She managed a whole word before she got distracted by magic. I think that was a new record for her. Hermione's foibles, however, were what made her an interesting friend. I nodded.

"Can I try to use it to cast something?"

"Only if you like being a little unicorn."

Hermione's lips formed a straight line of annoyance, though I had to squint to see it. For just a moment I wondered if she'd try anyway just to further the cause of magic. She was that kind of person. "Okay. We'll look at that later. Scourgify's syllables sound like this: Skur-ji-fy!"

I felt my horn hum with a desire to put magic to work. There was a sensation that, if I just let it flow out, I could cast the spell from the syllables that Hermione said. Then the feeling was gone.

"S-Sorry, I got distracted. What was that?" I asked.

"Harry!" Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and frowned at me. She stood up and I couldn't make out her expression so well anymore. "Skur-ji-fy."

Again my horn sought to distract me. Magic called to magic, and the words Hermione said held the potential for magic. I wondered if letting my magic out would work the spell. I also wondered if it would result in Hermione turning into a little unicorn. But, having heard the magic incantation a second time, I could picture it in my mind. "And it's an S pattern, right?"

Hermione looked shocked. "How did you know that?!"

"Magic is predictable. Start an incantation with an S, and you often get an S pattern to reinforce it." That and it felt right. But I wasn't going to tell Hermione that. I didn't have enough time in the day to answer all the questions telling her about my new sense of magic would raise. "So S pattern, and Skur-ji-fy!"

My magic didn't hold back this time, and I didn't intend to stop it either. Power rushed through my body from the tip of my tail to the end of my horn. It rushed through like a stream, and as I curled my head lazily in an S shape, I focused on Hermione's clothes.

"H-Harry!" Hermione's shrill voice snapped me out of my trance-like state. Okay, I hadn't been the best at aiming that one. Hermione stared at me as if I'd just done something very personal to her.

"Uh, did I miss?" I asked.

—She just exfoliated like a snake, Harry Potter. I believe you cleaned the girl completely.— Addera's tone held plenty of mirth. —Now it's my turn to try.— "Skur-ji-fy!"

I barely had time to register Addera holding Hermione's wand. I watched her free hoof sketch the S shape, and I felt the call of magic that poured through her. Then I realized why Hermione was so upset.

A sensation like a million scrubbing brushes suddenly working over me drew a gasp from my throat. Soap, water, and eventually a dry towel—it was all there. I felt like in the snap of a fraction of a second I'd been cleaned down to a lower layer of my skin than was normally on show. A hot rush of air seemed to blow over me and dry me back out in an instant.

While I couldn't see the exact expression Hermione wore, I did manage to see her mouth gaping open. "You cast a spell!"

—Yes. Oh, wait, I know this one.— Addera giggled. "Yes."

"You used my wand!"

"Yes also."

"She is supposed to be a student here. I guess that means McGonagall or Dumbledore could tell she was capable of magic," I said. When I moved to look at Hermione, however, she was now staring at me. "What?"

"Harry you—" Hermione broke into a giggle, then quickly covered her mouth.

"What?!" I asked.

—You look perfect. Now, try casting the spell on just the sofa,— Addera said.

Me. Something had happened to me. I looked down at my forelegs and gasped. "My fur!" … had completely puffed up. I looked back over my shoulder, and apart from the patch of scales that extended down my back, all my fur was fluffed up. I looked huge!

"They were right, Harry," Hermione said, "you do look adorable." She quickly covered her mouth again.

I jumped to my hooves and off the couch, only for a slip of paper to float off after me. It wafted through the air like a butterfly—No. It actually flew because it WAS a butterfly. Someone had cast a spell to make their note fly.

"Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!" I channeled magic and aimed it at the paper, missed, and sent one of the couch cushions into the air.

"Harry! Stop casting. What's it say?" Hermione snatched the letter out of the air and unfolded it.

—You have your first crush, it seems, Harry Potter.—

"Don't I get to read it first?" I asked.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at me. "Dear Lord Qilin—" Harry, I don't think this is for you.

—Qilin is an old word, Harry Potter. I know not what it means, but I have heard it spoken,— Addera said.

"Addera said it's not a name but a word. Well, I guess that might still be a name. What else does it say?"

"Something about wanting to touch your fur but not being time yet. It's signed by The Moon." Hermione passed me the letter. "I think you just got a love letter."

"What? Let me read it. Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!" I plucked the note from Hermione's hand this time (and luckily didn't actually hit her with the spell—again).

Dear Lord Qilin,
I long to stroke your mighty mane, and feel the power burning in your scales, but I don't think your guardians would appreciate my attention right now. Allow me this moment to say, however, that your friendship is something I would cherish.
If you ever wish to meet privately, just light a fire under the night sky and I will find you.
Your admirer,
The Moon.

I stared at the note, read it again, and then a third time. This was terrible.

—This is wonderful, Harry Potter. A suitable suitor would strengthen you at this juncture,— Addera said. —Unless this Hermione would be a better choice? She seems a rather good teacher.—

"What did she say about me?" Hermione asked.

I looked back and forth between Hermione and Addera. The worst bit about the situation was they were both ignoring me now. It was worse than being the center of attention. "I'm done."

Both Addera and Hermione turned to face me.

"You heard me. I'm done. If you need me, I'll be at first class." With note and diary floating along beside me, I trotted for my dorm room. And I mean actually trotted. I'd seen horses doing this and it had always seemed like the most jarring motion of all, but that must have been my human sensibilities. It was comfortable.

In my dorm I found Ron and Dean talking quietly together. I ignored them and jumped up on my bed to get a better height to see my books on the shelf next to my bed. I tried to remember what class it would be, and then it came to me. Potions.

"Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!" I focused on my copy of Magical Drafts and Potions and floated it into the air at my side.

Now I was left with a problem. I had three levitation charms going, which didn't seem taxing at all (and I have to admit that I'm getting good at them), but I needed to stop just one of them. That note was incriminating for all the wrong reasons.

The solution, as seemed to be the case so much in the last two years, was more magic. "In-send-dee-o!"

I held back on how much magic I let pour down my horn, and when a modest fountain shot out anyway I was very glad. Fire, it seemed, was now my thing. Less. Smaller. Only a trickle—and got it! A little jet of flame left my horn and I finally directed it at the note. No evidence was good evidence.

"What's that you're burning, Harry?" Ron asked.

Only when the note was just floating ash did I turn around to face him. A blurry pile or orange on a mountain of darkness: Ron Weasley—every Weasley—when I don't have my glasses on. "Nothing. Just a note."

Dean laughed from where he sat on his bed. "Did you get a love-letter, Harry?"

"No!" My answer was too swift, I realized. If I'd just snorted in derision and shrugged, I'd have gotten away with it.

Coming closer, Ron reached out for the floating cloud of ash and ran his fingers through it. "Cor, 'arry. Who's it from? Did they use magic on it?"

My eyes snapped around to lock onto the ash that was the remains of the note. Even without glasses on I could see the paper reforming. "Ron, if you touch that…" I let my threat hang half-formed.

"Ron," Dean said. "As much as I want to find out, bugging the only person in Hogwarts who can use magic safely is probably not the wisest move. If you want to find out who Harry's admirer is, you're welcome to everything he wants to do—alone."

Standing up, Dean grabbed his own book for Potions class and walked out.

"I'm gonna find out anyway. You can't keep something like this a secret." Ron backed up and walked back to his bed. "Frankly, I'm surprised. Is there any indication McGonagall is going to be able to reverse all this?"

A tickle of anger rose in me. Ron didn't mean it, I know, but it still annoyed me to hear. "Addera!" I could feel the anger growing, feel it threaten to get completely out of control.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Ron asked.

I tried to ignore his voice, but despite the concern, my mind twisted what he asked into another statement that I was going to be stuck like this. "Addera plea—" I didn't get another word out. Calm flooded me, strained against the burning anger that had grown. Looking into Addera's eyes was like having a calming hand—hoof—on my ear again. After a moment, the hoof was actually there. Addera said something in parseltongue and I started walking with her.

—Follow me, Harry Potter. Come with me to somewhere less flammable.—

A war was raging in my head. On one side was Addera and the sea of calm her eyes and her hoof rubbing my ear brought, and on the other was my anger. The flames licked up inside me, but Addera kept them from growing.

Following Addera was all that was important. I heard when my hooves started clopping on rock, and then heard it grow soft again as grass tickled the underside of my hooves.

—Harry Potter?— Addera's voice was even more soothing than her eyes and her hoof on my ear. —Harry Potter? Burn.—

The calm presence of Addera was gone. I was engulfed in a tornado of flame and fire. "I don't want to be like this! I hate it! I want to be me! I want to be a wizard! Why can't anyone just turn me back?!"

I looked around me, my vision narrowing onto things that were flammable. Rushing around and bucking my legs around me with the force of my rage, I set fire to everything I could easily see that looked like it would burn.

"Hello?"

My head spun to lock onto the new voice. A foal—a bit smaller than myself—and they looked terrified. Terrified of me.

The fear on their face was what quenched my fire. My eyesight blurred again as I calmed down and the flame stopped burning around me.

"…rry!"

I barely heard Ron's shout. My anger was slowly going away, and along with it the roaring sound in my ears. Panting, I turned my head to see if I could spot the foal again. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

"Harry? Who're you talking to?" Hermione asked. "And why do you keep catching on fire? Honestly, we're going to need to get fire extinguishers at this rate."

"What's a fire extinguisher?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked at him like he was crazy. "What you use to put out a fire."

"Well I've never heard of that spell."

"It's not a spell."

Their words were peripheral and my focus was leading me elsewhere. I trotted in the direction I thought the foal had been. "They'd rounded this hedge and then—" Cutting short, I looked at the hedge. "Are you in there?"

"No."

The absurdity of the reply meant one of two things: either this was magic, or a young child. I breathed a sign of relief and hoped that it wasn't some kind of smart bloody hedge some crazy wizard had come up with. With my decision made, I set about working the best angle I could—and assumed it was a child. "That's good. I'd feel really embarrassed if someone saw me on fire like that."

"Why were you on fire?" Curiosity stained the words with a good measure of fear still.

"You're really talkative for a hedge, you know that?" I asked and got a giggle for a reply. "It happens when I get angry, I think. My friends were helping me calm down." Even just mentioning them made me remember the look in Addera's eyes—her beautiful mesmeric eyes. "But then I saw someone—a little pony like me—who looked scared. I wish I could find them so I could help them not be scared."

The hedge beside me rustled a little, but the foal didn't come out. Keep your calm, Harry, they're just a child. "Do you know where they went?" I asked.

"What kind of pony are you?" The fear was less still. Yay for explaining things to children so they can actually understand.

"I'm a unicorn, near as I can tell. The fire's something a little odd. What kind of pony are—What kind of pony was the foal?"

"You're not a unicorn!" Righteous indignation now—much better than fear.

"Well, sure. I mean, I'm a bit short and—"

"Unicorns have straight horns, and their manes aren't like—like a lion's. They also have solid hooves, like mine. I mean, like the foal's."

"Really? Well, what kind of pony do you think I am?" There was still a note of something odd in her voice (it was definitely a her), ticking off some kind of warning in my head, though I wasn't sure exactly what it was.

"Well! You're not a unicorn, you're not a pegasus, and you're not an earth pony. And, you're definitely not a crystal pony like me—like the foal that ran away."

That was it! That was what I couldn't get my head around. "How do you know so much about ponies?" I asked.

"Because I am one!" The "hedge" sounded so certain of itself, so sure. "I-I mean—"

It all made sense. She knew all these things about ponies because she was one. The first talking creature my little friend was not. But that gave me the biggest question of all. "Why was the foal out alone?"

When I heard the sobbing start, it rent my soul. The arguing of my friends behind me was completely gone as I dropped to my belly and crawled into the hedge. I couldn't see all of her through the branches, but I could see enough to aim myself. I pushed in, ignoring the branches that pulled at my horn and mane, until I could shove my nose against the filly—it seemed like the right thing to do.

She grabbed hold. Her tears cut through me like nothing could. I pushed forward until I was firmly against her and put one leg over her to hug her to me. Hagrid had always told me empathy was a gift of mine, but the pain I felt in her was too much. "You're safe now."

"But what about my friends?" The words barely got through her sobbing. "Their helmets fit too tight. I couldn't pull them oh-oh-off!"

"What helmets? What friends? Can you show us?" I asked. I had a lot more questions, but helping her seemed more important than fleshing out my knowledge of her species—my species.

She held up a shaky hoof and pointed to the north. "It's scary. The mask—it made me wake up and wanted me to do something. But it was too big." She sniffed. "It fell off."

"Show me."

"But you might get hurt too! What if—"

"You think a silly mask can hurt me? I'll set it on fire! You should see it, anything burns when I set it on fire!"

"Your book didn't."

"That book's magical. It's one of my friends. My other friends should be done arguing soon," I said. "Do you want to come out and meet them?"

"Do they catch on fire too?"

"Not unless they mess up with their magic. What's your name? I'm Harry—Harry Potter." I ran my hoof along her back. It was strange how she felt like she had fur, but at the same time it looked almost transparent.

"I'm Tourmaline. Mom named me that because I'm precocious!" I just bet she is.

"Well, Tourmaline the precocious and precious, let's get out of this hedge. Between you and me, I think it talks too much," I said and earned a giggle and a sniff. "Come on."

Only, getting out was easier said than done. Apparently, my not-unicorn mane was literally like Velcro to the myriad tiny branches of the hedge. I pulled and yanked, but it seemed like I was stuck, until little Tourmaline braced her head against my chest and pushed.

She was like a tiny bulldozer. Each step she took ripped at the branches and tore me—slowly—free of the hedge. I shook off my daze and started shoving backward too, and together we got me out of the tangled underbrush.

Hermione was apparently the first to have arrived. "What were you doing in the hedge?"

I turned around and looked at Hermione. "Well, it started as a conversation, but things got a little heated and I had to show the hedge who was boss." My words earned more giggles from Tourmaline.

"Well, it looks like you lost. Why did you—?" Hermione stopped dead in her tracks both physically and verbally. She was staring at Tourmaline. Apparently their argument had distracted them from what had happened.

"H-Hi!" Tourmaline said. "Will you help me? Harry said you would."

"Who's this?" Hermione asked. It was to her credit that she didn't ask What's this?

"This is Tourmaline. She needs our help getting her friends out of some overly friendly headgear." Focusing myself, I let a little of my magic flow through my horn. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!"

Tourmaline almost jumped backwards so far as to land in the hedge again. When she saw me plucking twigs from my mane, however, she started giggling.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"You're really not a unicorn. Unicorns don't need to shout to do magic."

"Very funny. Obviously someone didn't get the memo about casting magic. It must have been a first year judging by their size." Of course Hermione would jump to conclusions. Something could never be just one thing.

I was about to correct her when Ron and Addera arrived. The timing made me wonder what they'd done together that would make them take longer than Hermione. "Who's your new friend, Harry?" Ron asked.

Maybe I could get the whole school to get in a big long line and ask me the same thing over and over. Sure, that would be a great use of my time. "This is Tourmaline. She's from outer space."

Ron blinked quizzically at me. "Really?"

"No, Ron. I found her here, and she says her friends are in trouble. She's not a student, and she's not from outer space." I looked at Addera, but only got a shrug from her. "Well? Are you going to help me help her?"

I watched Hermione glance back at Hogwarts. "We're supposed to be going to first class."

"You really think we'll be graded on anything that happens now? Besides, what kind of wizards are we if we don't help someone?" Winston Churchill couldn't have said it better. We will fight them on the beaches!

"Harry, wizards are kind of a selfish lot," Ron said.

Addera nodded, but Hermione just looked at Ron in surprise.

Ron gestured at Addera. "See?"

"Then go back to your classes. I'm not that kind of wizard." Yup, I'm the stupid kind who goes head-first into danger without backup! I turned away from my friends and looked at Tourmaline. "Can you show me where your friends are?"

—I do not break my word on the say-so of wizards, Harry Potter.— Addera slithered across the soft ground to my side. She towered over me, but I felt a hundred times safer with her there than going alone.

Standing beside Hermione Ron started to turn back toward Hogwarts, but he paused when Hermione didn't turn with him. "A-Arn't you coming back?"

"You were right, Ron," Hermione said. "I guess I'm a terrible witch." She stepped closer to me and didn't stop until she was flanking me with Addera. "You might as well go back and tell Headmistress McGonagall what we're doing."

When Ron turned and started walking back to Hogwarts, Tourmaline started bouncing in place. "Come on, they're this way!"

For such a small filly, Tourmaline sure could run. Her hooves pounded the ground in a steady rhythm that I tried to keep up with. Tried, and didn't do so great. She kept slowing down so I could catch up, then she'd gallop off again.

Addera kept up with me easily, Hermione too. It was refreshing to know I had some heavy hitters with me.

When I saw the first blurry shape of what I assumed was Tourmaline's friends (standing beside some bush colored thing), I slowed down to a walk. "Tourmaline, don't run over there."

"But they're my friends! I need to get their helmets off!"

Oh bollocks. I ran after her, and rounding the bush I realized what the problem was—there wasn't just one foal with a mask on, there was four. They were all facing away from where we'd come, though, so I hoped we might have some measure of surprise.

"Harry! Slow down! They're not running away!" Hermione's voice was about as sensible as my headlong rush after Tourmaline wasn't.

At last Tourmaline started to slow and then stopped. She was standing a few meters back from the first of her friends. "Zircon! Zircon, stop!" Her voice was filled with fear.

Addera slithered closer and put herself slightly ahead of me. —What are those things on their heads, Harry Potter?—

"I was kinda hoping you might know, Addera. Hermione, any clue what they are?" As I finished asking, all four foals leaned their heads forward and down and concentrated beams of red/purple light shot from the forehead of each.

The beams of dark light converged and caused a shimmering sheet of light to spray in all directions. "They're trying to break Dumbledore's ward!" More lights flared in the distance to each side of us. Flickers of purple and red that seemed to be the wards repelling the magic.

Tourmaline rushed up to the closest foal and jumped on them. "Stop it, Citrine! Let me get that bad mask off!" Having experienced Tourmaline's strength firsthand (or hoof?), seeing her fail to pull the headgear free was startling.

Alright, Harry, time to be the hero. "Hermione, grow the helmets or shrink the ponies?" I asked.

"They're already little foals, shrinking them more isn't a good idea. Engorgement charm, and an unlocking charm if they are somehow locked on. But Harry," Hermione said. She waited until I turned to look at her. "If I cast, I'll—"

I turned back to the four foals. Focusing my attention down to the helmet of the one Tourmaline was trying to remove, I relaxed my grip on my magic and felt it flow through me like a breeze—or a river. "En-gor-gee-oh!" I twirled my horn in an almost circle and let the magic flow through my incantation, my gesture, and my will.

The helmet started to swell and swell. It grew to twice the size it should be and yet it still clung to the foal's head.

"Ah-loh-ho-mor-ah!" A second rush of magic and the helmet finally released! It felt so good to use magic. The flow of it, even just letting it free in my body felt good.

The foal that the helmet came off collapsed to the ground, and as she did so the other three turned to face me—more of that magic seething around their helmets.

I had my magic already flooding through me, but as I watched those helmets produce little spears of un-light, I panicked a little.

"Pro-tay-goh!" Hermione's voice was clear and sharp, her words perfectly pronounced. Three purple/red beams crashed into her shield spell at the same time.

There was no time to look back and see what Hermione was doing, or what magic had done to her, I needed to end this fast. Two spells for each helmet was too much. My mind raced to pick which of the charms I knew best—unlocking charm of course. I knew it for a whole year.

"Ah-loh-ho-mor-ah!" My horn wasn't still after sketching the pattern for the engorgement charm, I continued sketching unlocking and let my magic find both spells at the same time. Normally magic was like a well-trained hunting dog, once it saw what you wanted it would dive down that path. This magic was like riding a bucking bronco.

The engorgement charm worked flawlessly, but the unlocking charm tried to get away from me. Magic had so many possibilities. It could have set the ponies alight, drowned them, or turned them into chickens as easily as it freed them (okay, the last one would have been harder, but not for wild magic). Magic wanted to do all those things and more.

It all happened from one heartbeat to the next. Magic strained against my will, but I held its reins. I kept it from exploding the helmet on the pony's head, from shrinking down and crushing them, or from duplicating a few thousand times.

I didn't have time to watch the helmet float upwards. With my attention on the second of the ponies, I had to ignore the little thump as the newly freed foal fell down.

I started the pattern with my horn again and began the chant. "Ah-loh-ho-mor-ah!" As I worked through the first pattern—and with the mor syllable still on my tongue—I began the unlocking charm's pattern.

When the magic grabbed hold this time, I was ready for its bucking ways. My will was strained from the first wild ride, but I was used to it now. That didn't mean I wasn't going to take some mental bruises for pitting myself against magic.

Never in my life had magic been this—not hostile, never actually hostile—wild. Every bit of the spells took more effort than ten normal spells to cast, but again it was over in a heartbeat that lasted forever.

Now I realized what was the best part of being a not-unicorn—four legs. I braced each of my wobbling limbs and felt the joints seem to lock into place. Behind me I heard Hermione cry out in shock, but her shield still held.

"Ah-loh-ho-mor-ah!" Magic didn't wait this time. Power rushed through my horn before I'd even started the first gesture. It had no pattern for the unlocking charm except for my will, but it felt eager to perform the task. Only after the fourth helmet unlocked and started floating away did I realize why it was easier. Each of the first spells made a pattern for magic. Each cast would be easier because it knew the patterns of the previous. There was something important I had to say or think or do, but my mind was wavering.

I fell to the ground at the same time as the fourth foal did. I stared ahead almost blindly (well, actually blindly). Four little hooves ran past me once, twice, and then a third time, but then a single pair of hooves stopped just before the point where my eyesight became a blur.

—Harry Potter, I am so glad you're small, but next time you will pick friends who weigh a lot less than these ponies.—

I barely got my head around what Addera said before darkness flooded my mind.

"Curious." Sombra watched through the eyes of one of his minions as the strange looking unicorn undid the restraining helmet in a most ingenious way. "Very curious. Host, do you have any knowledge of this?"

If the ghost of Ginny Weasley that still inhabited her body still had control of said body, her heart would have sped up at seeing Hermione Granger backing up a little pony that used some intricate spell-casting. She could see through King Sombra's eyes only because he let her. "Your doom."

"You still have some fight. Good. I like fight—I respect it." Sombra mentally clamped down a little more on the screws that bound Ginny's remnant. "Tell me who you recognized."

Genevra had seen several things, not the least of which had been the diary. "Tom Riddle." It wasn't a lie, she felt it was the truth—though it wasn't. "I saw Tom Riddle's diary floating beside that little horse."

"It is a strange conundrum. The last of his ghost told me much of what that artifact was." Sombra flexed his mental strength, shoving the other helmeted crystal ponies to greater effort. "A horcrux. A soul vial. A phylactery. There are several words for it, but I want one.

"That, dear little Tom told me, holds you. The actual you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, and not this ghost. Your friends—and I don't think it's a large jump of reasoning to divine they are your friends—are guarding that because they know it's all that is left of their friend—of you."

Ginny recoiled from the idea. She knew Harry, Hermione, and even her brothers wouldn't rest until she was safe, but what if they thought she was safe? She curled up in a tiny ball in her own head and wept.

"You sound wonderful like that. Such despair and hopelessness. Dear little ghost, why not just surrender and die?" Sombra wasn't as ready for the rush of anger as he might otherwise have been. Nonetheless, when Ginny's attack came he shoved her back and wrapped manacles around her wrists and a collar around her throat. "It appears I have given you too much leash. That stops now."

The ghost of Ginny Weasley screamed in her own head as Sombra cut her off from all her faculties.

Author's Notes:

McGonagall: You said it was clear the change into ponies wasn't because of Transfiguration. Any hypotheses about what it is?

"Well," McGonagall adjusted her glasses as she looked down at her own notes. "Given the vector that the changes are implementing themselves by, it is clearly something to do with spellcasting. We've had several parties cast spells without vocalizations and still be affected, and one fourth-year student thought he could work around it by using someone else's wand.

"From what I understand, it's the magic itself that is doing this. Of course that still leaves us with two students who can actually use magic without repercussion."

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Recuperation

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I woke up on something soft. As soft things went, it was a good soft thing.

—You're awake, Harry Potter.—

"Thank you, Addera, for that stunning news report. More at six." I tried to roll onto my back, but there were two problems. The first seemed to be I was still a little not-unicorn. The second was I had a great big snake wrapped around me like some kind of overly friendly oven. "Where are we?"

"The infirmary of course." Hermione's voice came from somewhere behind me. "You burned through more magic than any second year should, and I turned my legs into—" She actually sounded impressed. I mentally preened a little at the implication that I'd impressed Hermione Granger.

"What about your legs?" I asked. "Addera, can you let me go?"

"Very well, Harry Potter," Addera said in crisp English.

I stared at her long past her actually moving her coils off me. Addera had a tight smile on her face. "That was pretty good, Addera. You learn fast."

"Thank you, Harry Potter." The smile on Addera's lips grew a little more, as if she were no longer trying to restrain it. —I don't like mixing and matching. Until I learn enough for a full sentence, I'll keep using parseltongue.—

I turned over, rolling first to my back and then completely to the other side. Hermione was laying on a hospital bed and looked completely normal, even with the slightly superior glare in her eyes. No pony ears. No horn. Not even a hint of a scale, mane, or snout. "Right, legs. What happened?"

Hermione let out a sigh. "You don't remember? Well, I guess you passed out after you did those amaz—those twin-spells. While you were casting them, I had to pour magic into the shield spell so it wouldn't collapse. Whatever those helmets were doing, it was powerful stuff. Using magic like that…" She reached down to the covers and pulled them back from one of her legs, then pushed it out.

Soft yellow fur covered the limb, and it had the same shimmering quality that Tourmaline and her friends had had. Her leg terminated in a great approximation of a hoof, but unlike mine (or rather like Tourmaline's) it was a solid equine hoof.

The sight was sobering. As she pulled her leg back under the covers, I noticed that she was slid further down the bed than she was when I'd seen her yesterday. "Thanks, Hermione. I couldn't have gotten those things off without you."

"Yes, well, Addera carried you and one of them, I carried another, and Tourmaline lifted two as if it wasn't anything. They weigh a lot more than something their size should." Hermione closed her mouth as if she wanted to say more but didn't want to at the same time. "I would have gone anyway, Harry.

"Headmas—Professor Dumbledore said it was like the imperius curse, but worse. Once on, those helmets can't be removed by the wearer, and the magic in them is—It's horrible." I'd never seen Hermione so scared, but it wasn't fear for herself. "I can only imagine how terrible it must have been."

"Where are they now?" I asked.

—In the other beds, Harry Potter,— Addera said. —I can show you.—

Addera moved like all snakes move—shockingly fast and with the smoothest of motions. It should have terrified anyone, but I found myself used to her. Her forelegs scooped me out of my bed and set me onto the floor.

If I'd been human still, I'd have fallen right over. All four of my legs wobbled a little, but being four meant I had stability that a two-legged creature could only stare up at from the floor. "Th-Thanks. Where are they again?"

"Over there, Harry Potter." Without my glasses I had to wait until Addera slithered closer to see where she pointed. One moment she was a blur and the next she was right beside me.

"Thanks, Addera." I'd expected her English-speaking voice to have a hiss to it, but she spoke perfectly. Taking a few steps, I was again thankful for having four legs now. I felt weak and drained, but Addera guided me to the first bed and picked me up before I had to ask.

A little red pony lay under the covers. I could see his (he just seemed like a him, his features looked sharper) head and shoulders poking out. Walking on the covers of the bed, I barely made any impression on the mattress at all as I approached the end of the bed. "He's so tiny."

—They are young children, Harry Potter. They had no one to care for them and had vicious devices guiding them. It is a curious feeling to be a hero for once.—

The door at the end of the room opened and I heard soft whispering footsteps approach. A large and indistinct person drew nearer to me, but it was the thin stature and the black, pointed hat atop their head that tipped me off as to who it was. "H-Headmistress?"

"Out of all the students I have ever had the pleasure to teach, you, Mr. Potter, seem the most prone to getting into trouble. That you somehow get yourself out of it and save the day is another interesting quality." McGonagall had her soft voice on. Her words stung a little, but I was prepared to defend my actions on this one. "I've been talking to a young lady who seems to think you're the greatest 'not quite a unicorn' alive."

She stood beside the bed as she always does, dead straight and not showing a sign of weakness. I let out a sigh and looked back to the colt in the bed. She wanted me to explain what had happened. "You've already heard this from Tourmaline—"

McGonagall cut in, "And Miss Granger."

"Right. Probably Addera too—"

—I would not speak of your actions, Harry Potter, only my own.— Addera shifted her coils a little, moving them so I could feel one thick loop pressed to my side.

"Addera helped me calm down after I got a bit worked up. She used her eyes to keep me calm until I could work it out on my own. It wasn't safe to be in the castle while she did it, so she guided me outside." I turned to look at Addera. "Thanks for that."

—You would not appreciate burning all your friends, Harry Potter. I did only as I thought you would have were you in your right mind.— Her coil shifted just a little as if she were reminding me of her presence.

"Mr. Potter? Please continue."

"Right. Angry, see Tourmaline and cool down. Tourmaline told me about how her friends were in trouble." I shook my head at the idea. "I don't care if I'm in trouble. It was the right thing to do."

McGonagall, far from looking angry, actually smiled in a way that even a blind wizard could see—fortunate I guess. "Gryffindor will out. Please continue."

"She showed us where her friends were." My mind drifted back to the moments spent freeing the foals. New details revealed themselves to me as if I were still there. "There were more. A lot more. The masks can project beams of magic. They were trying to destroy Professor Dumbledore's wards!

"Strange thing, the ground was cold and hard, but it was broken up in places like it'd been dug into. There was dirt and grime covering the foals—stuck in the strange armor they wore." I tried to center myself back in the facts of what happened. "Hermione and I worked out how to remove the helmets. Engorgement charm to make the helmets swell up big—because Tourmaline said she got hers off because it didn't fit—and if it needed more an unlocking charm.

"I cast the engorgement charm first, then when it clung to their head, I gave it the unlocking charm as well. It worked!"

"Well that explains why there was nothing left of those helmets. If you let the engorgement charm run its course they'll be in pieces now. We found the remains of little Tourmaline's helmet—Albus is working on divining its properties now. Do go on." McGonagall seemed just as interested in filling me in as she was in being filled in.

"Yeah," I said. "That's when Hermione saved us. The three remaining foals turned to face us and the beams shot out of their helmets. Hermione cast a shield and stopped it, but she said it needed to be kept powered. Anyway, I knew I had to work fast, so I picked the unlocking charm as the easy one and—"

"And you cast two spells at the same time without fully enunciating one of them. I heard." McGonagall was back in neutral. I looked up at her blurry face but didn't get a reading.

"I had to. Hermione could only hold the shield so long, and every moment she was using magic meant she—" I remembered how much Hermione had been freaked out just from taking the polyjuice potion. I looked across at her, and the gray smudge I thought was Hermione remained just a gray smudge I thought was Hermione. Harry, you're an idiot. Don't bother looking around if you can't—I can't see! "What happened to my glasses?"

Addera twitched her coil again and I found myself leaning against it a little. —Along with your clothes, Harry Potter, they are gone. I may be your protector, but I have seen what happens to things your fire touches.—

Put like that I couldn't actually blame her. "They were my backup glasses. I don't have another pair." Even to me my tone was a whine.

The coil shifted more and I felt it coil around a second time to wrap one of my legs. I was reminded of how comfortable and warm it was to sleep in her coils. —Your friends are making me glasses, Harry Potter. Perhaps they can make you some?—

"I don't see how Fred and George could make me glasses. We'd need to find an optometrist and—" I bit back my words when I realized McGonagall was still there and still waiting for the story. "Sorry Headmistress."

"Quite alright dear. Please try to keep to the events though."

"Right. So I cast the spells while Hermione held up a shield. It was really hard to cast the first one. I've never had magic fight me so much before. It was like—like I had to hold on and shove it the way I wanted it to go. But I managed it. Then I had to do it again.

"The second time was harder. I was still worn out from the first two spells, but I had to do it and I had to do it fast. By the time I had to cast it a third time I was sure it would be impossible."

"But it wasn't," McGonagall said. "Was it?"

"It was easier." I stared at her blurry face in consternation. "Why was it easier?"

"Spells only work because they are patterns for magic to use. The more magic uses those patterns, the easier it is to use the spells. Each time you cast two spells at once in the same manner, it made it a little bit easier to do. This would be a seventh year lesson—usually." She sounded pleased at something.

"So I can cast those spells easier now?" I asked.

"Dear me no. What you did would be a trial for any wizard. Stick to one spell at a time, Harry," McGonagall said.

"But you said the pattern—"

"Would make it easier. How many times, do you suppose, that spells like levitation charm and such have been cast? Each casting reminds magic of the pattern. Your spells' pattern was localized and has likely already faded. If you cast them a few hundred times more, then you might start to notice a more general ease of casting." McGonagall sighed. "I do hope you complete your full training. I admit I am fascinated by the idea of what magic you could perform with such an education behind you."

Her words stopped me dead in my tracks. Think, Harry, and don't just blurt the first thing that comes to mind. Casting spells repeatedly made them easier to cast. I had to take this as fact because not only was McGonagall telling me that, I'd experienced it.

Not that this was the most useful bit of information, but I could see myself using it in particular situations. "So is that how new spells are invented?"

"Not quite. Most spells are a potential in magic for something that doesn't already exist. A pattern ready to be discovered. Doing it your way would take an exceptional wizard indeed." McGonagall's expression noticeably softened. "Fascinated indeed.

"As for what you have uncovered, we are not sure who exactly is using those nasty pieces of work, but there's a lot of ponies out there with them on. Not that they're making a dent on Albus' wards." She looked—even blurry—quite smug about that.

"We're going to help them, right?" I asked.

"Need I remind you that, of all the wizards at Hogwarts, you are the only one capable of casting any sort of spell without repercussions? Well, we're hoping to have a second shortly." As she spoke, McGonagall tilted her head toward Addera.

The focus shifting toward Addera reminded me of her presence. She hadn't said much since McGonagall had arrived, but I had a feeling she was paying attention to every word.

"If I can cast spells, I need a wand," Addera said in careful English.

"That you will. Come with me." McGonagall turned around and began walking away.

Before I knew what was happening, Addera scooped me up in her forelegs and rushed after McGonagall. —It takes work to learn how to pronounce everything, Harry Potter. Please translate for me.—

"Of course. Sure. Not like I could get away from you." I hadn't meant to be as acerbic as I sounded.

—You can stay if you wish, Harry Potter.—

"No." There was no way I could admit that it wasn't horrible or invasive to be carried by her. "You need someone to help."

"Thank you, Harry Potter." Addera slithered after McGonagall, giving me a blurry look of the medical wing's room. When we left, I saw a blob of color I recognized.

"Headmistress!" Ron almost jumped. I could see movement in one of his raised hands—brown blur against his robes. Scabbers of course. "Are they alright?"

"I can assure you, Mr. Weasley, your friends are all just fine." McGonagall flicked her wand to pull the door closed behind us.

"We're going to get Addera a wand, I think," I said.

Ron's excitement was visible even to me. He shifted from foot to foot and almost dropped his rat. "C-Can I get one too? Only, my last one was broken by the willow, and I tried to get by but then Lockheart stole my wand and broke it more—"

McGonagall cleared her throat. "You are safe then, Mr. Weasley, from being turned into a—"

"I don't care about none of that. When I heard about—It should be me in there, not Hermione." Ron's words surprised me with the vehemence. He always surprised me, Ron might be about as adept at social situations as a rotting cod, but he always made up for it.

"I see there was a reason you were sorted into Gryffindor. Very well. Follow me, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall started off again.

—Those were strong words from the heart, Harry Potter. Your friend may have as much fire as you do.— Her head was just above me, but Addera sounded slightly impressed.

I adjusted my throat. —When you start using English more, I think I'm going to miss your little comments like this.—

—Just because I'll be able to speak in English doesn't mean I won't still use parseltongue, Harry Potter. What it does mean is that I won't have to rely on you to deliver my promises.—

—You mean threats?— I asked.

—I meant what I said, Harry Potter.—

We traveled in silence for a few more minutes, winding among the halls and stairs of Hogwarts. It was a surprise when Ron finally spoke up. "I'm sorry, Harry."

I thought about what to say. The annoying thing about it all was that he'd actually been in the right. "You couldn't have helped anyway, Ron."

"I still feel like sh—crap. Guess that's what happens to a wizard with a conscience. The cowardice to stand aside and the remorse to wish I 'adn't."

Squinting (which was generally understood to be my constant expression right now, I hoped) at Ron, I couldn't help but smile at him. "Did you practice that?"

"Yeah."

"Sounded good. Was it a quote?"

"Nah."

"Really good then. I kinda get why you left, though. When I was in the Chamber of Secrets and I had to fight Addera, I had the most horrible thought of how it'd go if I didn't have my wand with me. We're just kids without our magic." As I spoke, my heart got away from me. Somehow I got a direct path from my brain to my mouth and nothing was getting in the way. But I was right—except one thing. "Well, not me. I'm a not-unicorn."

"That and I was about to fill my pants. You're the bravest person I know, 'Arry. From now on you betta believe I'll be at your side. No matter what."

"Unless you lose your magic?" I asked.

"Nah. I think I prefer getting beaten up without my magic to sitting here and wondering what's happening to my best friends." Ron turned his head to look at me. "Why're you squinting?"

—Wise, but not smart. Brave, but not a hero. Harry Potter, you pick strange friends.—

"I don't have my glasses, Ron. Some crazy person keeps setting them on fire." My voice dripped with sarcasm, but it made me realize something—if I was sarcastic, I wasn't angry.

It was so simple. I could save myself from perpetually burning things to the ground with the power of sarcasm! Life suddenly became easier. I could see a future that wasn't filled with fire and me stumbling around half blind. —Addera. Just now, instead of getting angry at Ron, I just blew it all off with being sarcastic.—

—You will make less friends that way, Harry Potter. There should be other ways you can hold back your anger until you need it,— Addera said.

—Until I need it?— I asked.

"What are you two talkin' about?" Ron asked.

"Sarcasm!"

Right then, before Ron could ask me to explain myself, McGonagall reached for the door to a room I'd never seen before. Then something stranger hit me—I'd been in this hall before and hadn't seen this door.

"Open up and show us what was stored." McGonagall held the handle of the door for a moment before nodding to herself and opening it. The room inside was about five times the size of the great hall. Rows and rows of shelving stretched away before us, and each shelf was filled with stuff. "Stay close, don't wander, and don't touch anything."

Addera slithered after McGonagall while Ron walked beside us. If there was some order to the room, I couldn't work it out. Some shelves held books, others items on stands, yet more held common muggle things.

Only when we reached the far end did McGonagall even bother looking at the shelves. She turned to her left, paused, and then turned right. "The trick of this particular instance of the room is, whatever you are looking for is in the last place you'd look. You must make a token effort of thinking about searching the room bit by bit, then you can head for the last spot you would have looked."

It made no sense, just like most of the physical stuff of magic. The spells were all patterns, the potions all had meticulous formula, but items? Items were just freakin' mental.

Addera slowed as McGonagall stopped at the end of the row and reached onto the highest shelf with some difficulty. "I thought it fitting we would try this first. Put Mr. Potter down, Addera, and try holding this."

—What's she holding?— Addera asked.

"Cor. That's Lockheart's wand!" Ron said.

The handle of the wand that McGonagall held toward Addera looked like it had a faux fleur-de-lis, but the central petal was just a circle instead. Dark brown handle led to a light shaft that looked dead-straight.

"Will it accept her?" I asked.

"There is just one way to find out. Lockheart defeated himself, so I would find it most fitting if his wand found someone else suitable to use it." McGonagall turned the wand in her hand to hold it out to Addera handle first.

Addera put me down and reached a hoof out blindly. Literally blindly, I realized.

—A bit lower,— I said. —You got it.—

And she did have it. Her hoof seemed to grip the wand and remove it from McGonagall's grip. The wand shook in her grip, and I could feel the magic of the wand being angry at her for daring to hold it.

Ron noticed it first. I watched him cover his face with one arm and shout, "Close your eyes!"

Thankfully I managed to avoid her gaze before being ensnared by her beautiful eyes. I looked up at McGonagall and saw her simply with her eyes closed.

—Harry Potter! The wand won't do what I want!—

"Addera, close your eyes!" I didn't risk looking at her, not when it was so easy to just gaze into her wonderful eyes and relax. Shaking my head, I tried to clear the strange thoughts.

—No! I need to make sure the wand knows I'm watching it.— A small explosion sounded above my head. Remembering what had happened when I'd been getting my wand, I dreaded to think what had just happened. —It doesn't like me!—

—Tell it who you are,— I said.

—I am Addera, slave no more to Salazar Slytherin! I am companion to the great Harry Potter, and you will do what I say!— The random explosions and trembling fury of the wand's magic stopped. —That's better. I need to learn magic, and your oaf of a previous master was not worthy of you. I claim you, wand!—

"Do I want to know what you're saying?" McGonagall asked.

"She's yelling at the wand," I said.

"Well, that's certainly one way of doing it. Personally, I've never seen it work and I can't say I have now."

Ron got the joke a few moments before me. He was giggling when I realized that none of us saw what Addera did. I groaned, but then broke into a laugh as well.

"Miss Addera, please close your eyes so I can look," McGonagall said.

"Done, Headmistress." Addera's voice was smooth, and I recognized the exact pronunciation of headmistress as being what Hermione used.

Turning and looking, I saw Addera's eyelids closed once more. Held in her hoof was the wand, though it didn't tremble with anger like I expected, it was twitching every now and again. "Nice going Addera!"

Addera's face lit up with the most amazing smile I'd ever seen her display. —This is the best thing ever! This wand is perfect for me.—

"She says the wand is perfect," I said, dutifully relaying her words to McGonagall.

"Excellent news. Now, Mr. Weasley, let's get you a wand that will have you. It shouldn't be hard, I know of several wands your siblings have used." McGonagall stepped around Addera and reached out to a wooden case sitting on the shelf.

"My brothers used these wands?" Ron dodged around Addera too and reached McGonagall's side as she removed a wand from the case. Eagerly taking the wand, Ron quickly passed it back. "This one is from Percy, innit?"

"Very perceptive. Am I to believe that—"

Ron was quick to let go of the wand. "D-Do you have one that Charlie used? My old was a hand-me-down from him."

"This one should suffice, then." The wand McGonagall passed to Ron was little more than a straight stick—there was even some bark still attached on the handle. "It might not look like much, but your brother took to it before it was finished. Your father got him a replacement for it at the end of the year, but the young man begged me to take care of it. This is willow, and fitting that it came from the very tree that broke your wand. There was no core installed in it, but it worked as a wand regardless. Your brother seemed to think it had something to do with the origin of the wood.

"Regardless, I believe you should be a good fit." With that McGonagall put the wand into Ron's hand.

As opposed to Addera's wand bonding, Ron's fingers twitched as they gripped the wand, and I watched the wood tremble a little (though if it was the wand doing it or Ron I don't know), and my friend smiled a little.

Ron looked as happy as Larry. "That's been the best yet. I guess I should test it—"

McGonagall wrapped her hand around the wand and tugged it from Ron's hand for long enough to fizzle whatever he was about to do. "You should resist that urge, Mr. Weasley, unless you have a sudden desire to be quadrupedal."

"Oh. Right. Sorry miss." Ron took his new wand back and just stared at it for a few moments. "This is really brill'."

"Now back to the infirmary with you. You too, Mr. Weasley. I'm sure you can find some way to help take care of our newest guests." McGonagall turned and started making her way along the aisle back to the center path.

I didn't have time to react. Addera plucked me off my hooves again and we were moving quickly after McGonagall. Her chest was soft and fluffy against my own fuzzy body. Warmth built quickly and it helped me relax a little more.

The ride back to the infirmary almost put me back to sleep except for one thing—I'd literally just woken up. I yawned widely and fought to keep back my desire to just lay my head down and close my eyes. "I'll get Hermione to help me teach Addera her first-year magic."

"What about me?" Ron asked.

"Hermione can sketch patterns without putting magic into them—I've seen her do it before. Can you do that?"

Sticking out his bottom lip a little in defiance, Ron glared at me while trying to keep up with Addera's slithering. "I can try."

McGonagall stopped at the door that opened into the infirmary wing we'd come from and held it open. "I have faith in you, Ronald Weasley. You're a Gryffindor, after all."

Ron's chest puffed out and his grin almost reached his ears. He stood straighter and looked entirely too proud of himself. Well, I guess he had faced a wizard's biggest test—he'd had to deal with having no magic—and he was still around to talk about it. "Thank you, miss, I'll try to live up to the name."

Turning on a dime, McGonagall started taking her first step away. "See that you do, Mr. Weasley."

Addera wasted little time in the hallway and headed inside.

Only for a bright yellow pony to practically attack her. "You're back!" Tourmaline said.

Sticking my head up from Addera's arms—completely awake now—I looked down to see the filly dancing about Addera. "Put me down so I can talk to her, please?" I put the last word on automatically, though some of my teachings tended against such pleasantries.

The moment my cleft hooves touched the floor I was engulfed in a crushing hug. Tourmaline wrapped her forelegs around my neck and squeezed. "Oh! Sorry!" Thankfully she noticed when I couldn't breathe and let go. "I'm just so excited! You did it!"

Memories of school—muggle school—rushed in and I remembered the times someone had stood up for me. "You're looking well. I take it you talked with McGonagall?"

Tourmaline took a deep breath as if she were going to breathe fire or something. "The big tall lady with the amazing hat? Yes! She told me you were okay. Then a nice stallion—well I think he was a stallion, he had a beard—wanted to talk, and we talked until he said it was okay to come back down here, but you were missing. I've been talking to Hambone—"

"I told you, there's no B in it," Hermione said. "It's pronounced Her-mi-on-e!"

"I was talking to her, and she doesn't know anything about unicorns, or ponies, or anything!" Tourmaline turned and stuck her tongue out at Hermione.

"Look, you little horse! I happen to know a lot of things, but I know nothing about your—your fairy tales!" Hermione sounded about as annoyed as Hermione could get, which was going to be less than useful for what was to come.

"Calm down both of you! Honestly. We leave for five minutes and come back to this? Tourmaline, if Hermione hadn't protected me, I wouldn't have gotten your friends free. Hermione, she's just a kid—foal." I walked toward Hermione's bed and was again thankful to four-limbedness—it was pretty great. "Hermione, Addera and Ron both have wands now."

"What? Where did Headmistress McGonagall find wands for them?" The question apparently needed Hermione to sit up in bed and look around at us to ask.

I walked slowly toward her bed and stopped beside it. When Hermione just looked down at me in confusion, I let out a groan. "If you wait until I make big puppy eyes and reach my forelegs up in supplication, you'll be waiting a long time."

"Oh. Right." Hermione's hands were warm when they reached under my forelegs and lifted me. Once I was settled on the bed, her hand somehow found the back of my neck and started rubbing.

"It was some kind of magic room. You know the hallway down on the second floor above the—I'll show you when we're all out of here. There shouldn't have been a door or a room there, so it had to be magic. She said anything in there is in the last place you would look for it, so she went there first and found the wands." The hand rubbing my neck had moved up to an ear. My legs folded neatly under me and I was curling up against Hermione's leg.

"And?" Hermione asked.

"McGonagall gave Addera Lockheart's wand to try. It didn't like her at first, but I think she has it under control now. Probably just didn't like the twit and thought she was him at first. Anyway, Ron got one of his brother's old wands."

Ron and Addera had neared the bed, and to my surprise Tourmaline was set down beside me by Ron. Where Hermione was rubbing my ear, I could see Ron's hand moving on Tourmaline's—she looked about ready to sleep.

"You alright there, Torm?" Ron asked Tourmaline.

Tourmaline nodded her head, eyes closed. "Mmhmm!"

"Oh, right. Before I forget, Harry." Ron reached his unoccupied hand into a pocket inside his robe and lifted out Ginny's diary. "I bet she has a bunch of angry words to write about me carrying her around, but not 'alf as many as you'll have for forgetting her."

"W-W-W—" The spell kept falling off my tongue before I could get the first syllable out. Finally, I just reached my mouth up and grabbed the diary and set it down beside me. "Thanks, Ron. I got caught up in everything, and—"

Hermione's hand stopped rubbing my ear and flicked the diary open.

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?!?

"Uh. Can you hear me or do I have to write in you?" My question got no response.

Ron dropped a ballpoint pen into the middle of the book. "'Ere, use this."

"That's one of my pens? Where'd you get that?" Hermione started to reach for the pen but stopped and left it in the book.

What's going on? Are you ignoring me?

"Loh-koh-mot-tor!" I aimed my horn at the pen and gave a little flick upward as my magic rushed into the patterns I'd given it.

After McGonagall's talk on magic earlier, it really hit home how those patterns worked with each other to pull magic in the exact way I wanted it. Hundreds of thousands of wizards and witches performing the same pattern, thinking the same way, and saying the same words.

Sorry. I had to find a pen and I got turned into a not-unicorn again.

A not-unicorn?

I grinned at the reply and made an effort to keep the diversion going so that she didn't have a chance to get angry at me.

We met a new friend, Tourmaline, who seems to be a natural born pony. She said I'm definitely not a unicorn.

Tourmaline yawned and looked at what I was doing. "Who's making those words appear? Is that a communication book?"

I needed to ask her about communication books later. "No. This is Ginny. She's Ron's little sister. There was a bit of a mix up and someone stole her body."

I've been trying to work out how to do things. I think I can get the hang of this, but it's going to take some time and some… energy.

"Hi Ginny!" Tourmaline said. "Can she hear me?"

I wondered how asleep she'd been when we'd talked about that a moment earlier. "She can't. I need to write replies into the diary. Like this."

What do you mean, do things? Like what Tom did and make yourself into a ghost?

More like how he dragged you into a memory of his past. I think I can actually hear and talk to you when you're in one of those, but they take a lot of energy to cast.

As the words slowly faded I was already writing more.

Tourmaline says hi, by the way. And what do you mean? How do you know about me going into his past memories? Is Tom still in there?

Tom's kinda in here. It's like his memories right up until when he and you fought. He studied a lot of things. Hi Tourmaline!

I glanced at Ron and got a shrug in reply, then repeated the look at Hermione.

"What? If she can learn something from Tom Riddle's memories it has to help." Hermione sounded as dismissive as Ron had acted. "It's not like he's still in there."

"Did we end up in some twilight zone? What part of Tom Riddle being Voldemort don't you realize? He's a monster!" I twitched my ear and then had to fight not to let out a happy sigh when a hoof started rubbing my ear. Tourmaline was busy getting similar treatment from Ron, so that only left…

—Calm down, Harry Potter. I can't smell his magic on the diary anymore. What's left is the ghost of a ghost.— Addera's soft touch had me almost melting in place. The pen dipped down and my eyelids felt heavy.

My head felt heavy so I lay it down on the soft blanket. "No fair. How can I do anything when you do that?" Nonetheless, since writing with the pen was a mental process, I could keep conversing with Ginny while Addera rubbed my ear.

Be careful, Ginny. I've dealt with him twice now, and each time he was annoying and tricky. I'm sorry about forgetting to carry you, but I was a bit busy at the time burning all my things. When I get angry, I turn into a tiny fire-horse. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true.

Who else is there? That looks like the kind of lines Hermione's pens make. Hermione? How cute does he look?

Despite the relaxing ear-rub I managed to freak out. Cute?! I was a—The note from earlier came back to me even while the diary was yanked out from in front of me by Hermione.

I managed to turn my head around at the distinctive click of a ballpoint pen. My blurry vision made out the terrifying sight of Hermione, with a smile on her face, writing as fast as she can in the diary.

"Ron. Help," I said.

"Yer on yer own, Harry. If you think I'm gonna try to stop 'em…" Ron was just shaking his head. "Torm, you want me to rub your ear or not?"

Stopping her fussing, Tourmaline rolled to her side and offered one ear to Ron's hand. A moment later I heard soft snoring coming from her.

"She's the really brave one, Harry. Could you imagine going through what she did at her age? Wake up from some kind of imperius curse"—Ron looked around as if the name of the spell was enough to cause Aurors to appear—"and then deal with her friends being trapped in similar horribleness. Then she came to us for help." His mouth curled up at the corners. "Bloody hell but that scares the pants off me even now."

Addera paused a moment in her rubbing. —Tell him he is not wrong to fear those spells, Harry Potter.—

"R-Ron. Addera said that those spells are terrifying," I said.

—That's not exactly what I said.—

"Now she's complaining because I didn't translate perfectly. Salazar Slytherin used something like the imperius curse to bind her in the chamber. If anyone knows what these horses are going through, it's her." I slumped a little more into the blanket as a second hoof found my other ear.

"Yer not half wrong, Harry."

—Your friends are interesting, Harry Potter.— Addera's voice, even in parseltongue, felt like warm honey as it settled into my head.

It seemed like I'd just woken up, but now I was yawning and feeling tired. Anyone would think burning up tons of magic casting complex spells drained you. You're an idiot sometimes, Harry Potter.

Gasping and panting, Flagessio almost collapsed onto the landing platform of the E.U.P. Guard in Canterlot City. There was shouting and hollering around her, and somepony pressed a bottle to her mouth.

Slightly salty water wet her lips, and without hesitation she began to gulp down the stimulant drink the Guard favored. The salt and water combined restored electrolytes to her system, while the high sugar content delivered raw fuel to her body. By the time the bottle was empty her legs had stopped shaking.

"Sergeant Flagessio? Report!"

"Sp-Special report for Princess Celestia. I need to see her immediately." Flagessio ignored the time of day (late afternoon), it didn't matter. She braced one foreleg then the other under her and pushed with her back legs until she was upright again. Pulling her wings in was harder work—her flight muscles protested—but she managed it. The burn in her limbs was subsiding.

There was a moment of silence as Flagessio watched the duty sergeant check his list of protocols.

"Take this pass." Sergeant Castor drew a golden pass from the belt of tokens and used his magic to float it to Flagessio. Of course he recognized her, but this was business. "Can you fly, or will you run it in?"

For the first time in her life, Flagessio had to admit, "Sir, I don't know if I can fly again today."

"I'll find somepony to pace you."

Flagessio was glad of the company, but the two newbie Guard members cantering beside her only reminded her how tired she felt. The bottle of drink she'd had when she landed was wearing off, and while she had a second one, she'd promised herself not to drink it until she had to make her report to the princess.

The token, when she'd shown it to the Royal Guard on duty, had seen her escorted between two huge, white stallions. She didn't have the heart to really look at them, but she knew each of the big guys could take her down a dozen ways from Sunday in her condition—but Flagessio had a pass.

Stairs were almost her downfall—in a horribly literal sense. Flagessio stumbled on the top step of the entrance to Canterlot Castle only for one of the big unicorns at her side to catch her with his magic. "Th-Thanks."

"An honor, ma'am," was all the big stallion said.

Flagessio was glad she didn't have to open the doors herself. There were Royal Guard at every step to open and close things—she barely noticed when she was actually in the throne room. Spotting the red carpet, however, made her look up. "Princess Celestia."

Princess Celestia knew of several situations that would have an exhausted Guardpony rushed to see her, and not a single one would be happy news. When Flagessio collapsed, however, she rushed down the stairs from her throne to attend her personally.

The touch of another bottle to her lips stirred Flagessio from the exhaustion she felt. Her throat worked and more of the energizing fluid surged through her body. She barely had a moment to see the golden aura around the bottle before it was empty. "A note from the north."

Her blood running cold, Celestia removed the note from the satchel on Flagessio's side. Unrolling the scroll, she read the precise description of what Sergeant Keen Eyes had seen from the guard post.

"Wake Princess Luna. Summon Shining Armor and Princess Cadance, and send a letter to Twilight Sparkle that I need to see her as soon as possible."

The decisiveness and seriousness in Princess Celestia's voice comforted Flagessio. She managed to smile as she closed her eyes and lost consciousness.

With her own magic Celestia lifted Flagessio up. There would be at least ten minutes before Luna was ready, or so Celestia estimated, and she doubted Shining and Cadance would be found any quicker. "Let me get you somewhere comfortable."

"Your Highness?" Shining Armor was practically tossed into the throne room just ahead of the doors slamming behind him. He'd never seen such tense times in the castle—the changeling invasion had been too swift for meetings.

"That makes all of us, sister." Sparing a grim smile and a nod for Shining, Luna looked back at the map her sister was projecting. Luna well knew the situation—it predated her banishment—but that didn't mean she liked it.

Shining's heavy hooves echoed around the huge hall that contained just five ponies. "What's going on?"

Princess Celestia found distaste in the words she had to say. Memories of what she considered a failure on her own part came easily. "The Crystal Empire is back. King Sombra is back."

Flagessio was tired, weak, and in company so far above her station she felt like all she could see were pasterns. Three princesses and a prince (now) were present. She gulped for the seventeenth time and returned to her description. "It looked like a shimmering dome with a single spike of light at the middle. Keen's—Sergeant Keen Eyes—description would be more accurate than anything I could give."

"That may be so." Princess Luna shared her sister's empathy for the Guardpony. "But you're here, and your eyes saw it, and you may have insight Sergeant Keen wasn't able to include."

"A thousand or so years ago, King Sombra began systematically enslaving the Crystal Empire." Princess Celestia gestured to the map with a glow of her magic. "We—Princess Luna and I—left as soon as we could to take care of the threat. What we found was a city-state in rebellion."

Princess Luna reached a wing out to her sister, an uncharacteristic gesture of comfort from her. "Sombra escaped, but he took the city with him. Every pony in and around the city was dragged along. We had to fight just to stay grounded in Equestria."

"With a thousand years of time to prepare we cannot take any chances that Sombra will not have an army ready to invade Equestria, but at the same time we can't rule out that something else has happened. Barrier spells like what the report describes were never Sombra's style, so we have to make a plan for every eventuality—even one that includes Sombra not being in control." Celestia took two long, slow breaths before continuing. "That is why we need an alicorn to go."

"Me." Cadance had no hesitation. "Shining and I will go."

"Absolutely," Shining Armor said. "And if this Sombra is still king, then we'll come running back."

Relief flooded Princess Celestia. "Exactly what I had planned. You two stand the best chance against him if he chooses to confront you. Sombra's magic is dark. He is a master of division and domination. Do not let him suppress the bond between you.

"While you are scouting, Princess Luna and I will be preparing Equestria for war."

Author's Notes:

McGonagall, are the house elves still around, and if so are they subject to the changes as well due to the use of magic?

"Well of course they—" Minerva McGonagall froze mid-sentence. She stared blankly ahead for a moment before she recovered. "That is a very good question, and I'm sure it will both answer and ask yet more questions."

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Adjustments

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I woke up cold—well, colder than I was used to. Lifting my head from the pillow reminded me that I was definitely still a little not-unicorn. The only light in the room came from repeated flashes from my left.

"Loo-mos!"

My head snapped around, following the path my ears had taken. It was definitely a spell, though I couldn't feel any magic being expended.

"Very good, now try it with your will." Hermione's voice was clear as day. She was teaching someone magic, and I could guess who.

"Loo-mos!" Addera's voice was clear and warm, and this time I felt a tingle run through me from my tail to my horn—definitely in my horn. Silver-white light filtered into the air, though if I had to guess there was something smothering it.

Hiding under your blankets and casting spells was probably something every witch and wizard has done, if only so as not to annoy others with flashes of light.

A shiver ran through me. If I was cold, everyone was probably cold. Shoving and bucking my way to the edge of the bed, I dropped to the floor with barely a clatter of split hooves on hard stone.

The room was a blur around me, and the light of Addera's spells was tempting to approach, but I doubted either of them would notice the cold until they were frozen. So I made my way to the end of the ward and looked at the fireplace. Possibilities swarmed in my head. I could cast a big fire spell, but with nothing to burn it would only last as long as my magic did—and I didn't want to risk hurting myself again for something stupid.

The woodbox beside the fireplace held a few small pieces, but they wouldn't do much good for long. I needed a big fire. Big… fire…

"You're an idiot, Harry Potter," I said. "Couldn't even stop Voldemort and Sombra? Never mind almost dying at least half a dozen times."

Opening wounds was easy, getting angry at them was harder. None of the jabs really held the fire I needed to become a fire… horse. Then a face came to me, and with that face I noticed the brickwork I could actually see became crystal clear.

"Dudley, you stupid, ignorant, useless waste of food." I stepped into the fireplace and watched a flicker of blue-red light illuminate it. "And Vernon! Just one birthday present that wasn't Dudley's old socks would have been nice. A closet under the stairs? What kind of idiots think—"

A rush of power engulfed me and I watched light splash out into the room. Okay, getting angry was the easy bit. Now I just needed to stay angry.

"And Marge!" I could remember her beating me with her walking stick. Fresh anger filled me to the point where I had to move. Pacing back and forth in the fireplace, I barely noticed the movement of little shapes approaching.

"He's the one who saved you all!"

Tourmaline's voice caused my vision to snap around and focus on her. Everything was so perfectly sharp in such a little pool of vision.

"Is he meant to be on fire?"

"He's really warm. Warmer than the beds here."

"Of course he's meant to be on fire. He probably came up here because he was cold." Tourmaline curled up and folded her legs as she lay down close to the hearth. "He zapped all those nasty helmets off you. Zap! Zap! Zap! Zap!"

"Really? Cool!"

I could feel my anger simmering down and my fire waning. "A cupboard! But that wasn't the worst of it!" I stomped around in a circle and turned my anger in on itself. "Mr. Peters! What was so special about algebra? I don't even have to do maths now!"

The teachers from primary school were an endless source of anger. I paced back and forth chanting a litany of names and ascribed all of my life's problems to them.

I can't remember the exact person I was ascribing my problems to at the time, but as I turned I saw a bright flicker of color play on the walls of the infirmary ward. Yellow, red, blue, even orange flickered and glowed. It took me a few moments to connect the pretty display to my flame refracting through the foals' bodies.

They hadn't seemed so crystal-like before, but now I could practically see the facets in their bodies catch the light. I was so surprised about it that my anger cooled along with my coat.

That's when I noticed one of the foals had a tiny pair of wings on their back. My flames completely snuffed out as I became more curious than upset.

The filly (not sure how, but she definitely had an air of female to her looks) lifted her head and looked back at me. "Did you run out of fire?"

It was a simple way of looking at it. It was easier to get angry than stay angry, and both were easier to do than stop being angry. Life was going to be complicated. "Yeah, but the stones are still warm here."

When she fluffed her wings and stood up, I saw shimmering blue light play through each crystalline feather. She walked closer and sniffed at the hearth of the fire. "It's a bit hot for a normal pony, but it doesn't bother me. I'm Tanzanite."

I was about to reply when another foal stood up. Like me, the colt had that look of maleness that made it impossible to call him anything but colt. "I'm Zircon."

Having just spent a good ten minutes cursing how useless my geology class had been, I now found a use for it. "Are you all named after gemstones?"

"Well, yeah. All crystal ponies are. My mum said I could pick a new name when I'm bigger and know what I want to be." The colt looked up at me (which wasn't hard given he wasn't too much smaller than me) and tilted his head to the side. "You're warm. Can you lay down?"

The renewed darkness of the room made the prospect of more sleep a tempting one. I carefully folded my legs and sat, then lay down. Tanzanite and Zircon were quick to cuddle up against me, and it seemed to startle the others awake too.

With the warmth of stones heated by my own flames, I felt sleep rushing back up to me. The added warmth of five smaller bodies crowding around me made my decision to get some more rest easier still.

Tourmaline lifted a forehoof up and pressed it to my nose. "Thank you, Harry Potter."

Percy Ignatius Weasley was not sleeping well, and by not sleeping well he was staring at the ceiling of his single room, as was afforded to students in their sixth and seventh years.

Clammy skin, fast breathing, and wide open eyes were not quite characteristic of someone trying to seek sleep. Fortunately for Percy, he wasn't. The whole day had been wasted without any work done at all, and he'd had to ask to be excused from hallway monitoring because he feared the darkness.

For the first time in the young man's life, shadows were a thing of terror. Every time he looked into a shadow—into darkness—he saw those eyes staring back at him.

There were two candles burning in the room, and Percy stared at the light pattern they made on the ceiling above his bed. Each flicker and twitch of the flames made his pulse quicken in fear that they would go out—that's why he had two.

His rest the previous night had been non-existent, despite his actually having been asleep, and now it was the early hours of the morning and he still had no surcease from panic, but something started nibbling at his resolve.

Percy's left eye twitched, then the right. From one harried breath to the next the unconscious part of the man's mind twitched and finally managed to pull him under.

"There you are. You've been avoiding me."

The words were like fire in Percy's mind. He felt them scorch his thoughts and rip at his attention. "W-W-What do you want?" Pain lanced through Percy. Dark flames licked around his face and neck and he barely managed to shout, "Your Majesty!"

"Good. You have much to learn. You know why I found you, don't you, Percy Weasley?"

"B-B-Because I—" Percy struggled for a reason that would appease The King. He shook his head. "I don't know, Your Majesty."

"Knowing when to admit failure is an admirable trait in one who serves. I wouldn't know when to correct you if all you spouted was platitudes. Percy, I chose you because I smelled desire for power."

"N-No! I don't want power!"

"Oh no. I know that. You want to serve power."

The truth of the words stung Percy's consciousness. He wasn't the greatest wizard in the world and never would be, but if he found someone who was, if he aligned himself with the powerful, he would be powerful too.

"Well?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." The words cost Percy Weasley everything to say. It burned at parts of his soul he wasn't aware he had. It stung, but it was the most wonderful feeling to finally be able to admit it. "I want to serve someone powerful. I want that power. I want—"

"You are safe, Percy Weasley. I am power. There are things I want, however. Things I need."

The eyes looked deep into Percy and he felt them see everything—as they had the previous night. "A-Anything! Anything, Your Majesty!"

"A book. I need it. It has words printed on it in your language, but those are unimportant. It is very magical, and you will know it because a soul inhabits it. Find that book, fetch that book, bring me that book. Once you do, Percy Weasley, you will know power unlike any you have seen before."

Percy jerked awake with the feel of something wrapping around his head—straps. "What was that?"

Laying in bed—laying in a sweat-soaked bed—Percy felt the dream play out in his mind. Whenever he thought of the book The King needed, an image of it danced through his mind. The book throbbed more and more.

Percy lasted nearly a whole minute with the drumming need in his head before he jerked out of bed and stumbled upright. "Book." Moving helped lessen the pain. Percy pulled on his uniform and stumbled out of his room.

The halls and stairs of Gryffindor tower were tricky to navigate at the best of times, but something about the book in his mind's eye made it easier. Each step he took—a moment before he took it—felt either closer or further away from the book. Every step he took closer meant the throbbing in his head got weaker. Percy made haste through the tower and out into the common areas of Hogwarts.

Each right step made Percy's head ease, but each wrong one cast him back into the most blinding of pain. With barely any light coming through the windows of the castle, he managed to stumble and stagger all the way to the hospital wing of Hogwarts castle.

Taking a deep breath and shoving the pain in his head away as best he could, Percy stepped into the hospital wing with as much of the prefect he was as he could muster.

"What do we have here? What have you done, young man?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Percy froze like a deer in headlights. He stared at the woman and lost most of his swagger. She knows, part of Percy shouted, She knows and she'll—

"You're Percy Weasley? I expect you'll want to see the book." Dressed impeccably in her nurse's uniform, Madam Pomfrey almost decided that Percy was meant to be a patient. "Are you alright, dear? Had a rough night's sleep? I can give you something to help with that if you'd like?"

"B-Book…"

"Of course, you must be stricken. Follow me."

Percy felt the most wonderful relief when he followed the nurse. Every step was bliss, and more since he could feel the book was close. He wanted it, his king needed it. King? No. Book.

"Just in here. I believe Miss Granger is taking care of her. Poor dears. Make sure you don't use any magic now." The moment Madam Pomfrey turned around, she started her watch counting.

Waiting for the moment the nurse was out of the room, Percy stumbled the last few steps toward the bed she'd indicated. Everything felt right. The image of the book was huge in his mind—crowding out other thoughts. Reaching down, Percy began to search the bed while avoiding its occupant.

All sorts of contraband that Percy would normally confiscate without question was scattered among the young woman's robes hanging beside the bed, but he ignored it all when he felt his prize. An almost opiate bliss settled over Percy as his fingers felt the shape of a small book in one of the pockets.

Quickly, Percy rifled through the robe to find the pocket that contained the book and he had it. It was in his hand and everything became clear. His king wanted the book—such a simple task. Percy smiled as all the pain eased and he could think clearly again.

Touching—feeling—the book revealed something curious. It had the words his king had mentioned, but the letters felt familiar. G I N E V R A—

Percy froze.

Looking down at the book in his hands, Percy read his little sister's name on the cover.

"…a soul inhabits it."

"G-G-Ginny." The book fell open in Percy's hand. He stared as ink began to flow over the blank page.

Who's there? Hermione? Harry? Ron?

Percy dropped the book, closed on the floor, and turned away.

The pain was blinding. Percy almost fell into his bedroom with a crash as all the books in his arms hit the floor. "Book—"

Pulling the door closed behind him, Percy quickly covered the windows with his heaviest curtains and collapsed onto the pile of literature he'd scattered. The pain was burning a hole in his head now, but he couldn't follow it, he wouldn't follow it.

The eyes were back.

"The book."

Percy was awake, but the voice of his king was impossible to resist. He bit into the meat of his hand to not scream in fear.

"You didn't bring it, yet you are alive. Why?"

"The book's Ginny! The book's GINNY!" Tears poured down Percy's face and he clamped his eyelids closed, yet still he could see the glowing orbs of his king's eyes. "She's my sister!"

"Percy?"

Sombra crushed down on the ghost in his own head. He slammed her away from all her senses and locked her in a box again.

"Ginny?" Percy's head jerked up and his eyes scanned the dark room for his little sister. "Ginny was that you?"

"I assure you it was not. This, Percy, was a test."

Percy stared ahead, his eyes full of red, green, and black flames. "A test? I failed?"

"No. This was a test of loyalty, there was no way to fail it. You chose the loyalty of another, but it showed me that you have that quality at all."

Hope rekindled in Percy's heart. He lifted his head and managed a smile. "I didn't fail?"

"No, Percy, you just revealed what loyalties I need to fix."

"I didn't need your help, but your knowledge is proving useful, Ginevra. Not only is your brother proving quite malleable, but he has a core of loyalty that will prove advantageous once I twist it a little." Sombra stood barely a hoofswidth from the barrier ward.

With all his magic bent toward controlling the helmeted crystal ponies currently blasting the wards from within, he had nothing to spare on either the banishing of Ginny's ghost or adjusting her former body more to his liking.

"Not talking?" Sombra asked.

Ginny wasn't sure when the cage around her mental self had eroded enough for her to leave, but it was now. "What are you doing to him?"

"Your brother has four wonderful traits that put him above those other two-legged beasts. He is smart, he is loyal, he is ambitious, and he is mine." Sombra turned side on to the wards and started pacing slowly. "The fact that he is inside these wards only makes things better. My minions will rip this wall down eventually, and when they do nothing will stop me remaking all these two-legged beasts into fine warriors."

"Why are you doing this? And how did you find out about him?" Ginny felt cold. The chill of Sombra's mind was the kind that burned, and the realization she was being used as a weapon against her family made it burn colder still.

"You know, Ginevra, the little voices in your head that debate the proper course of action? We all have them, but since you are in here with me I can hear yours." Sombra turned and paced back the opposite direction. "As for why? Why does the flame burn but to burn more? Power derives from power."

Author's Notes:

Dumbledore: have you felt anything different about the local magic? Harry had trouble keeping it under control while casting simple growth and unlocking charms.

"I will admit a small amount of trepidation in examining what has happened. Magic itself has become a little treacherous to wizards and witches, though I have found magically-imbued items are still quite functional," Dumbledore said. "Though I should be seeing Harry for a class first thing in the morning. Perhaps some experimentation is in order."

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Learning

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"Well would you look at that? I guess last night was a little nippy, but was it really warmer in the fireplace?"

Madam Pomfrey's voice started to push the cobwebs of sleep aside. I was warm and cozy by dint of being surrounded by a group of likewise warm and cozy bodies. There was more, the stones under me were still warm from the fire I'd made the previous night.

"It was when I was on fire." I yawned and tilted my head side to side. "Still is."

I realized Pomfrey was standing just past the stones that made up the outer part of the fireplace. She crouched down and reached a hand in and pressed it between me and one of the other foals. "Well, I must commend you on that, Harry, but next time you could just come and ask for more blankets."

Complete and utter shock. I was done for. I'd contracted wizard and now my case had become terminal. I'd woken up in the middle of the night and, instead of asking the nurse for a blanket, I'd set myself on fire with magic. "I'm an idiot."

"No. You're a wizard."

Pomfrey's sarcasm was mild, but I was sure by her smile she had meant it. "Basically the same thing where common sense comes—" My belly cut me off by rumbling.

"That answers my next question. There's an important thing you all need to do before breakfast, however." Pomfrey snapped her fingers with one raised eyebrow. I didn't get a hint of magic from her, so she wasn't activating a spell or anything of the sort.

Two house-elves came trotting into view with a huge tub floating above their heads. Floating in the grip of their magic. At my gaze, both of them seemed to shy back.

"S-Sorry. I'm just curious about your magic. Have any of you turned into horses while using it?" I asked.

Both house-elves looked up at Pomfrey, then back at me. "Were you all house-elves then? Is that why you're little horses?" one elf asked. Their voice was both like and unlike Dobby's. While they had the same pitch, Dobby always sounded a second away from hurting himself for and Dobby had the worst pronunciation I'd ever heard. This house-elf sounded more curious than scared of offending me, and their pronunciation was perfect.

"Well, it kinda happened to me. But they were all born like that." While I spoke, I watched the elves put the big tub down.

The second elf got a huge grin on its face. "So wizards do magic and become not-wizards?"

The house-elf I first spoke to elbowed his companion and snapped his fingers. Like magic (yeah, seriously, I just thought that), the tub was full of hot, steaming water. "You talk too much. He was a big wizard, now he's a small wizard." They turned to face me. "You can do magic?"

"Loo-mos!" The pull of magic was immediate. I let go my tight grip and let power flow through me. I laughed as my horn began to glow. I could have cast off the light into the room but this was just a display. "See?"

"Your horn is your wand!"

"What's all the shouting? Is it morning?" Zircon lifted his head and squinted against the light coming from my horn. "Why are you doing that?"

"Because it's fun," I said and winked at the house-elf who'd asked me to prove I still had magic.

Pomfrey reached in and hooked her hands under Zircon's forelegs. "Come on, now, you've all spent half the night laying in ashes, you need a good bath." Despite her alacrity in lifting Zircon out, I could see it was a strain for her to lift him.

I pushed a little more magic into my horn and got a much brighter light. "Come on. Wake up everyone. Bath time." When all I got was whines and protests, I started poking at them with my hoof. "Lazy-bones. Get up!"

Tourmaline rolled over. "Not getting up. I don't want to go to school today."

I poked her in the shoulder a bunch. "You're already at school."

"Huh?" Tourmaline lifted her head and looked back at me with some confusion present. "Oh!" As realization seemed to set in, so too did a measure of sadness in her expression.

It hurt me to see her like that. I reached up to her with both forelegs and pulled her into a hug. "Sorry to wake you up, but we're all really dirty from the fireplace."

I heard the filly snort back her tears before she squeezed back. "Don't be sorry. You were nice and warm, and you helped get my friends back."

"There's a lot more ponies out there. Maybe your mum and dad?" The moment I mentioned her parents, Tourmaline hugged me tight enough I thought I'd snap in half. "Tourmaline, what happened?"

"When the big unicorn came, everyone started acting strange. Mum and Dad kept talking about things. Dad wanted to move out of the city, but Mum wanted to stay. I stayed with Mum." As she spoke, Tourmaline moved with me toward the tub.

"M-Mum came home one day with the helmets. She put hers on and it was like she completely turned off. I couldn't do anything to stop her putting one on me too." Tourmaline's voice became softer and softer, though she did take my direction into the tub. "I don't remember what happened next. It's all blurry. But I woke up with—with all my friends still wearing helmets."

"So your Mum is out there still? We just have to get her helmet off." As I spoke, Pomfrey dumped a jug of hot water over my head.

"Really?" Tourmaline stared at me.

"Well, she has to be. You said she put her helmet on and was in the city when—when whatever happened that you got buried. Now all the ponies are digging free to destroy the wards, so whoever's controlling them—" My brain kicked into high gear. I tried to grab at the train of thought and steer it somewhere useful.

Someone was controlling all the ponies. Someone wanted the wards down. Did they want to get out or get in? Whichever they wanted, they wanted it a lot of they threw all these resources at it. I needed to talk to Dumbled—

Another jug of water dumped on my head. I looked up this time to find Pomfrey reaching toward me with a scrubbing brush. I suffered through the indignity of being washed and scrubbed.

"Okay. He's done," Pomfrey said.

I literally floated out of the tub in the grip of some magic, and a towel attacked me! I looked around with blurry vision to see who was using magic, only to spot one of the house-elves gesturing at me. The wizard-infected part of my brain realized I could dry off really fast if I got angry. I would have to have a good talking to that part of my brain, I realized. The answer to all of life's problems shouldn't involve self-ignition.

Finally dry, the house-elf set me down and gestured to the next foal.

"Thanks, uh, what's your name?" I asked.

The elf froze, staring at me with wide eyes. "You want to know my name?" They sounded incredulous.

Pomfrey must have noticed, she called out, "Keep drying them, please."

"Rest." Quickly getting back to work, the elf turned its head halfway toward me. "My name's Rest."

It was so unlike what I'd heard of other house-elves, and in particular Dobby. "Well, Rest, my name's Harry Potter. You speak really well for a—" I bit back what was probably the stupidest thing I could have said. "Well, I've only really met one house-elf before, and he didn't speak as well as you two."

"house-elves work, house-elves watch, and house-elves listen, but what house-elves do while doing all those things is learn." Rest finished juggling Tanzanite and set her down beside me. "We learn to speak properly by listening, but we learn other things as well."

It was a minor revelation. Finding out that there were these little magic people who were probably every bit as smart as the wizards who ignored them. "I bet you do, Rest. What's your friend's name?"

"Relaxation isn't my friend."

The words confused me for a good few seconds until I realized Relaxation was the other house-elf's name. "Why not?"

Rest smiled. "Relaxation is my wife."

Minor revelation? Nah. This was a major revelation. The smile on Rest's face showed that he appreciated my idiocy in not recognizing him for what he was. That, or he found enjoyment in completely flummoxing a wizard. Could be both. I know I'd enjoy both.

A looming shadow sprang at me from one side. It was huge and encompassing—and blurry. The complete lack of any sound should have given the attacker away. Just as I started to turn to face it, Addera coalesced out of her own smudge outline.

"I know magic, Harry Potter." Addera reached out with her forelegs and scooped me off the floor with ease. —I know real magic! I made my wand light up, and I used all sorts of other charms. Except fire. Hermione said you had to teach me that, and she said you had to do it a long way away from her.—

Parseltongue was a slow, deliberate language. Hearing Addera spit it out as fast as she just had left me struggling to catch up. "She wouldn't teach you the fire-making charm inside, Addera."

Addera tilted her head to the side. "Why not?" That sounded exactly how Hermione would have said it.

"Because you'd set things on fire. That spell is really dangerous inside." I couldn't help giggling a little as I realized something. "Well, it's really dangerous for everyone but me and Fawkes.

"Wait a moment. She taught you all of the first year spells in one night?"

—Only the useful ones, Harry Potter. She told me I need to see her again tonight to work on more.— Addera swapped my weight to one of her forelegs while the other found my ear and rubbed it. It would be horribly demeaning if it didn't feel so relaxing. "It's hard to cast spells without seeing."

That shook the cobwebs her ear rubbing caused clear out of my head. "Addera? Please don't use magic when you can't see."

The sound of clopping hooves had my attention, mostly because they were louder than mine or the foals'. I tried to peer around Addera to see what was making them, but it was just a dark blob.

"Something happened last night, Harry," Hermione-the-blob said as she walked closer. "Someone tried to take Ginny's diary from my robes. I don't know how they found it, or what she did to them. She won't say anything today."

"Ginny won't?" I asked.

"I thought I said that?" Hermione sounded mildly perplexed. "I taught Addera what I could last night. It was more a cram session, but she should know most of the more useful first-year spells."

"Except incendio?"

—I would like to learn that one, Harry Potter.—

"I bet you would. Maybe later." Something important tickled at my memory, something I had to do. Two rubs of my ear later and the thought was gone completely. "Can you stop rubbing my ear?"

"No, Harry Potter."

"If you don't stop rubbing my ear, I won't teach you the fire-making charm." Wonder of wonders, the rubbing stopped. "There was something I was trying to remember, but it's really hard if you do that to me."

"This?" Addera rubbed my ear once, and a traitorous voice whined that one wasn't enough.

"Yes. That. Stop that." Whatever the thought had been was gone, but there was something else that had my focus. "Addera, what do you know of house-elves?"

Addera put me back down on the ground. —Not worth chasing is what they are, Harry Potter. They taste like dried old boots, and they'll disappear nine times out of ten even if you do catch one.—

I realized how easy it was to forget that Addera was a monster. She'd killed, she'd eaten—Wrenching my thoughts away from that, I realized that neither Rest, Relaxation, nor the tub were still here.

—Addera,— I said. —You're not to eat living creatures, okay?—

—That is impossible, Harry Potter. I eat meat to live.—

—I mean talking creatures. Humans, house-elves, goblins, ponies…—

—Pork sausages are tastier, anyhow, Harry Potter. I never liked killing, but I was a big basilisk.—

—Thank you, Addera.—

—No, Harry Potter. Thank you.—

Hermione was just looking at us with a glare, though it was hard to make out. What wasn't hard to work out was that she was annoyed about something, probably that we'd dropped to parseltongue.

"Sorry, Hermione." The closest thing to fatherly advice Vernon had ever given me was to always apologize to females when you did something wrong. You didn't need to know what you'd done, and it was fine to keep doing it, but saying sorry was vital.

With a little upward inflection, Hermione's face calmed from annoyed to resting superiority that she normally had. "We should probably have something for breakfast."

—I am still full from yesterday, Harry Potter.—

"You won't be going to the great hall. I'll have the house-elves bring things up for you. What would you like?" Pomfrey asked. "And don't be afraid to ask for extra. Growing children need good meals, wizards and witches more so."

Not for the first time today my stomach decided to vote. I'd nibbled a few bits and pieces the previous morning, but I had no idea if I'd eaten anything for the rest of the day. "I'll have—Uh."

"You'd best stick to salads, dear. Just like the first time an animagus has to eat while in their alternate form, it's best sticking to things your body would normally eat. Since I didn't notice any fangs when I looked over you yesterday, I assume you'll be on plant matter." Pomfrey turned to look at Addera. "And for you, miss?"

—How does she know I'm a miss, Harry Potter?— Addera sounded more curious than indignant.

"She said she's not hungry. I guess she eats like a snake, and since she ate so much yesterday…"

Pomfrey smiled. "Good summation, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor." Her pronouncement surprised me. I hadn't known she would be able to award and deduct points, though it was good to know that even like this I could support my house. "What would our most adorable guests like?"

Three hooves and a wing shoved Tourmaline forward. "C-C-Can we have a bowl of oats each? With some honey on it?" As she spoke, the filly looked more and more confident. "And some fruit!"

"That's a good suggestion, thank you, Tourmaline. I think porridge all round would be a resounding idea. Even for you, Miss Granger. We're not sure how much of your new anatomy has gone within, and there's still the likelihood you could cast another spell." With that, Madam Pomfrey turned and walked out of the ward.

"It's not like I'll just cast a spell for the fun of it," Hermione said, voice a little grumpy. "Unless I had to protect someone again, or it was for some kind of experiment."

—I bet her arms change next, Harry Potter,— Addera said, but I wished she hadn't.

"What was that?" Hermione asked in a sharp tone.

"Addera thinks your arms will change next. You know, you could help teach her English too. Then you wouldn't need me to keep translating." My ears twitched, and I turned and looked back at the bed I'd abandoned the previous night. Something had played at the edge of my sense of hearing.

Curiosity wasn't limited to felines and humans. On my four stable legs I walked down the rows of beds until I found mine. The next problem, of course, was getting up onto it. The hospital beds were a little higher off the ground than the dorm room ones.

Rearing up into the air made me extremely unstable, but I managed to balance long enough to get my forelegs up. Alright, Harry, now you just have to pull yourself up. As it turned out, my forelegs couldn't get enough grip on the covers and my back legs didn't have enough spring to shove me upward fast enough.

What was worse was I was sure I looked stupid doing it.

A sudden shove lifted me up and put me on the bed. The lack of warning (given that there was only one person in the room with less than two hooves) told me exactly who had helped. "Thanks Addera."

"I think someone already has that name, sir." Rest's voice had a measure of humor underlying it. "But if you think that name would suit me better, you could ask Madam Pomfrey to change it for me."

"Sorry, Rest. I mean, thank you, Rest." I turned around only to see him disappear from sight with a smile on his face. "Alright, creepy magic disappearance. If you're still here, that's extra creepy."

There was no reply.

Turning back to the bed, I looked around for what might have made a noise. My heart almost stopped at the sight of a folded slip of paper. Stepping closer to it, I pinned one edge down with a hoof and used the other top open it.

Then I quickly closed it again. I'd only seen the bottom of it and I already didn't want to know. It was signed by The Moon again.

Carefully, I unfolded that bottom third of the letter again.

Your admirer,
The Moon.

I quickly closed it. Nope! I had enough problems right now. I didn't need another girl making them worse. Between Addera and Hermione I had met my craziness quota and then some. Folding the letter again width-ways, I pushed it under the covers and turned back around.

Something was going on at the end of the ward. Everyone was clustered together and—I froze. The smell of sweetened, hot oats caught in my nose and pulled very sharply on my sense of urgency.

I jumped from the bed (working on instinct with my brain out of the loop), landed easily on all four legs, and started bouncing on them. There was no other name I could think of for what I was doing. All four hooves would connect with the floor at the same time and I would push back and up.

It was just about the stupidest, most energy wasteful way of moving, but for some crazy reason it made me grin like a fool to do. The only reason I stopped was I reached the edge of a table. Instinct said to jump onto it and keep going, but my brain wanted off the silly-train and I wound up crashing into a chair.

"Harry!" Hermione, Addera, and Madam Pomfrey said at the same time.

It was Hermione, however, that lifted me up from where my face was squished against the floor and sat me on the seat. "Honestly, what did you think you were doing?"

Close enough to see the big steaming pot of porridge that Pomfrey was ladling out into bowels, I was able to shunt Hermione's complaints to the side with a simple, "I was hungry."

I noticed the (blurry) other foals simply lifting their bowls to eat from the lip. The temptation to do the same was practically overwhelming, but there was something important to do first. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!" I just had to jerk my head upward a little after aiming at the spoon to get it lifted into the air. "And now some sugar."

By the time I got to my fifth teaspoon of sugar, Tourmaline was already finished her bowl. I stared at her for a moment. "Where'd you put that?"

Tourmaline looked back at me, then looked down at her belly, then back up at me with a smile plastered to her face. "I don't know, but there's room for more."

"Then more is what you shall have," Pomfrey said as she ladled more into the bowl.

I tore my eyes away from Tourmaline and brought the spoon to my own bowl. A heaping, steaming load of sweet porridge on my spoon, I brought it to my mouth carefully to avoid smooshing it against my snout.

Heaven.

The rich taste of the honey combined with the creamy oats exploded in my mouth. I gulped that mouthful down quickly and was already ferrying the next load. Spoon after spoon of the overly sweet breakfast barely had time to meet my tongue before I was swallowing it.

A loud clink of a spoon against the bottom of a bowl shocked me out of the feeding frenzy I'd fallen into. I tilted my head up to look for Pomfrey, but she'd blindsided me.

"Another bowl." Her words were not phrased like a question, not that I was going to argue. She ladled my bowl full again and then moved on to the next diner.

Now I had a problem. I'd used my spoon to eat with, and I needed more sugar. Strategy was called for. "Skur-ji-fy!" I had to rock my shoulders side to side to get the right pattern with my horn, but magic lanced out and formed bubbles all over the spoon before leaving it pristine again.

"You're probably going to need a lot of spells like that," Hermione said. "It can't be easy not having hands to do things."

Her words had turned introspective, and when I glanced at Hermione, she was looking at her own fingers. Right, she was turning into a little horse too. "There's some upsides to it."

"Like what?" Her tone implied I'd just shoved a rather pointed knife into her ribs.

"I can feel magic, Hermione. Like, I can feel people and things using it around me. When I cast a spell, I'm not just carefully pushing magic through my horn." I couldn't help smiling. "I have to consciously stop holding it back. Lack of magic didn't make me pass out, I just tried doing too much at once."

My thoughts raced in circles to find a better way of explaining it. "Yesterday, when you cast that shield, was it easier than normal?"

"Not with four of those helmet-mask things blasting away at the shield, but when I cast it at first it—it was." Hermione's expression changed from pensive, to curious, and then jumped to excited. "We need to test this. Where's my wand?"

Hermione's hand dipped into her robe in slow motion. I watched it come back out again lightning fast. Her lips began moving, and—

"Ex-pel-lee-ar-muss!" The syllables were crammed together, but it was still pronounced correctly. A flicker of light presaged Addera's spell connecting with Hermione's wand.

Jumping to her feet—hooves I guess—with a clatter, Hermione glared at Addera. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Magic make you a horse!" Addera's use of mangled English was almost as surprising as her surge into a more upright pose. "You negate want to be a horse!"

Hermione's eyes widened in complete disbelief, and her anger seemed completely defused. She fell backwards into her chair and crossed her arms. Despite everyone at the table staring at her, Hermione just kept up a frown.

"Ahem. Thank you, Miss Addera." Madam Pomfrey moved around the table with a steady walk, completely ignoring the predator that still looked annoyed. "Miss Granger, you might want to thank Miss Addera as well. While I certainly enjoy having such adorable little charges to take care of, I'd rather not have a sixth right away."

When Pomfrey offered Hermione her wand back, Hermione let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Addera. Thank you for—for stopping me."

"This engages us square?" Addera asked.

"Makes us square. And I guess it does." Hermione looked over her wand for damage. "Would you like some help working on your English?"

The question seemed to calm Addera down completely, so much so that she smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

"In fact, I'll do it for payment, so we're even on that score again." Hermione looked pleased as punch about something. "I teach you any English word you need to pronounce, if you tell me how you managed to aim at my wand with your eyes closed."

I knew the answer to that. When her hand had gone into her robe, it'd made the slightest of sounds. If I could hear it with my ears, Addera (who proved she can hear movement through the floor) would have had an easy time of it.

—Please translate for me, Harry Potter,— Addera said.

"No. Don't use parseltongue. Let's start right now." Hermione's eyes flashed with the stubbornness she was well-known for.

"I hearing you reach for your wand." Addera's tail lashed audibly in what I realized was a show of agitation.

"Heard. You heard me reach for my wand," Hermione said. "So you could hear me pull the wand out, but you aimed that disarming charm when I had it out and raised."

Addera moved quickly. She slithered around from my right to where Hermione was sitting on my left. As she moved, she drew her wand up and held it beside Hermione's ear. "Listen." She flicked the wand with her hoof making the tip zip past Hermione's ear. "All wizards sharp movement their wand. The end moves fast. I heard that."

"Sharp movement? Oh! Flick." Hermione looked pleased and then curious. "Harry, your hearing is better now, right?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Maybe when—if I become a pony too, I could learn to listen for that sound." Hermione held her wand out, turning it over in her fingers.

"Hermione," I said. "Please don't do whatever it is you're thinking of doing."

"I'm sure they'll work out how to change us back in no time."

"Addera, if she tries to cast again, disarm her." I remembered, all of a sudden, just how impressive her pronunciation was earlier. "You cast that spell very quickly."

"English and parsel makes me talk slower." Addera waved the hoof not holding her wand in the air, a gesture she must have picked up from someone. "I-can-talk-fast." It wasn't that she'd left out pauses for spaces, she actually had paused, it was just that she said the whole thing twice as fast as normal.

"You'd really disarm me again?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Addera said.

"Maybe I could find someone else to help?"

"Someone from Slytherin house." Addera sounded most happy about the prospect.

I tried to ignore the two and get back to my breakfast, but my ears kept tracking to them. It became a one-sided battle of wills to just focus on the food. Fortunately, with my stomach in agreement that more sugar-laced porridge was a good idea, I gave decorating and eating my breakfast my full attention.

No sooner had I gotten the spoon laden with my last dose of breakfast than the door of the infirmary wing was thrown open. "Harry! You need to come quick!"

Cramming the last mouthful of porridge in my mouth, I jumped from my seat and built my speed into a run. "What's wrong, Ron?" I slowed as I neared him.

"We've got class in five minutes. We'll be late if you don't hurry up," Ron said.

Now that Ron was somewhat in focus, I could see him pointing out the door. I had a moment of indecision. I looked back at the foals, Hermione, and Addera (all of which were reasonably out of focus of course).

"Run along, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said. "With a good breakfast and a healthy appetite, you should be completely recovered from your exertions yesterday."

"What have we got first thing?" I asked.

Ron's smile was visible despite my lack of glasses. He grinned wide as he could. "Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

It was the same classroom that Lockheart had used to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but all the portraits were gone for a start. The amount of light in the room was impressive. Not only were the windows letting in bright (brighter than Scotland saw) light, but the chandeliers were lit.

We were all settled, though there were two empty seats at the front of the class. Murmuring ran around everyone except for Malfoy, who sat in the far back corner of the class and glared down at his desk.

I was looking down at my desk too, but probably for a different reason than whatever sulk Malfoy was in. A perfectly reflective piece of glass mirror—silvered on its rear side—sat on my desk. The mirror wasn't perfect, it was a shard of glass that looked like the edges had only seen a file to remove the sharp pieces from where it'd been broken from a much larger mirror.

But it worked still.

The particular scrying mirror the glass had been part of had been quite large and quite powerful, or so Ron had said, but now it was only good for scrying on particular things nearby the observer. The key to it was that I could see the things in the mirror as if it were perfectly in focus.

"This is neat, Ron. Thanks for getting it for me."

"Well, you know my brothers were trying to make something to let Addera see, right? They had three pieces of this. They're filing down the other two to make glasses lenses for her." Ron looked proud as punch, and he had every right to be—his brothers were the most devious rule breakers ever, and now they'd taken up breaking the rules in new and helpful ways.

"Don't you worry now. No one will be making fun of you for helping to save someone." Dumbledore's voice was warm as honey, and sounded so supportive and reassuring. With my ears swiveled back, however, I could hear another sound—rhythmic clop-clop-clopping.

It took every scrap of willpower I had not to turn around and look. Instead, I looked into the shard of glass and focused the scrying to the back of the classroom.

Hermione was walking at one side of Dumbledore, and Addera the other. In one of Addera's arms (or were they legs?) was her wand, while the other held books. Hermione, of course, had her bag for her things.

From the corner of the shard of mirror I saw Malfoy look up at Hermione. His face—crystal clear and in perfect detail—bore an unreadable expression for a moment before he looked back down.

As Dumbledore walked down one of the aisles beside Hermione, Addera slithered up the next to the seat right in front of me, pushed the seat aside and simply gathered herself together to a height about the same as Hermione's.

"I believe an introduction is in order. Not to me, of course, but the subject. It has become apparent that Hogwarts has not had a sufficiently practiced Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for some time. Given that this was my failing, I am correcting the matter." Dumbledore lifted one hand slowly to reveal his wand to the class. "As you are no doubt aware, magic has consequences at the moment. This will be both a boon and a hindrance when it comes to the dark arts.

"Magic items, however, are still very functional, and so we can't count out even magical attacks from hostile wizards and witches. I took the liberty of reading the syllabus that former-professor Lockheart taught, and I believe in the time we have until the end of semester, we'll start over with the basics. Put simply, before even magic itself the most powerful weapon a practitioner of dark arts will use is fear."

Dumbledore turned around and started writing on the board. He wrote the words Hope, Friendship, and Love in a triangle and then linked them together. In front of us, Hermione leaned across to Addera and whispered to her.

The sound must have caught Dumbledore's ear. He turned around and—when he saw it was Hermione and Addera murmuring—ignored the disturbance.

"Hope, Friendship, and Love. Three simple concepts, three tenets of defense against fear. If you hold all of these in your heart, a dark arts practitioner will never cow you through fear.

"Hope, or optimism if you will, is the simple understanding that if you do good things the world gets better. Hope is simple, it is powerful"—Dumbledore smiled—"and it's contagious."

"What about power?" a feminine voice asked.

"Power is useless if you drop your wand in fear. There is nothing in life that can be accomplished if you allow fear to take hold. Tyrants believe fear is a tool and wield it with abandon, but living with fear constantly will eat people up and destroy them. There is no power in the presence of fear," Dumbledore said.

"The second tenet is more complicated, Friendship. This is more complicated to explain than hope. It can mean the knowledge others will help you and that they will need you, or it could relate to allies and your trust that they have your back without conditions.

"Due to the nature of human beings—wizards, witches, and muggles alike—this is less predictable the more people it involves. But I'm sure I don't have to give any of you a lesson on making friends."

I looked at Ron with my own eyes (forsaking the mirror), and realized that he was definitely my friend despite the incident with the foals. If anything, it meant I had to be a better friend to him to help him avoid fear.

Almost two years of study in Defense Against the Dark Arts had taught me next to nothing, and yet Dumbledore has taught me more practical information in ten minutes.

"And that brings us to the most complicated of all—Love." Dumbledore paused for the usual round of silliness. "Don't titter. I'm not just referring to romantic love. The bindings between someone and their family, of a crafter for their creation, even of a student for the lore they learn can all be classed as love. Like friendship, love can bind us to the people and things of this world and leaves little room for fear to take root.

"Care must be taken, of course, not to let misguided love or friendship become your downfall. With great benefits come great flaws. One sided love, poisonous love, even addictive love are pitfalls of this. The simplest way to protect yourself from these and more is communication. The dark arts are practiced by wizards and witches who hoard knowledge. Why, one of the reasons I became a teacher was to ensure that knowledge is spread to those who need it most."

Class ended after more examples of fighting off fear than I could have ever believed possible. Laughter had been one of the better ones. What I really wanted, however, was a way to fight off anger.

While all the other students rushed for the door, I was using the locomotion charm I'd cast just after arriving to put away my inkwell and pen. Though ballpoint pens were easier (and more common in the wider world) I still enjoyed using a dip pen.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, Addera—could you four please wait until after class?" Dumbledore asked in a soft voice.

I knew the voice. It was the one he used when he didn't like what he was going to talk about. I dipped my head and finished lifting things into my bag.

Beside me, Ron was actually slower at packing up his own things. Okay, so maybe not everything about being a not-unicorn was bad. "I wonder what he wants?"

Shrugging, I used my hoof to press the bag closed. There were straps on the bag to fasten, but I didn't want to have to cast locomotion charm on literally everything. "No clue. Can you do this strap up for me?"

"No probs, Harry," Ron said. "I thought more about what I did—running away—and I know I can be better than that. I guess I could always get one of the bats the beaters use. Better that than a wand right now."

"Just be careful with it. Considering these ponies are not really doing the attacking, we don't want to hurt them. Not to mention S-Sombra is in Ginny's body," I said.

Ron's face fell. "Dammit, I—"

"But it can't hurt, right?" I lifted up a hoof and poked his arm. "Better to break a leg or arm or whatever, since Madam Pomfrey can fix all that up easy enough."

"Yeah!" The reversal in his mood almost gave me whiplash. "Here, maybe I could ask Fred and George for tips on breaking arms?"

Footsteps behind us gave away a new arrival. My ears were literally the best part of a not-unicorn body, I'd found. I reached out to the glass with my hoof and focused behind us. McGonagall was closing the door behind her.

"We had hoped not to involve students at all," McGonagall said as she walked around the desks along the windows side. With my mirror, I could not only see her in crisp detail, but I could see the slight bulge at her rear. She definitely had a tail, then. "But between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, it seems that all five of you cannot help but be dragged into this. So I'm going to tell you everything."

I caught sight of Dumbledore's face in the mirror. With everyone's attention on McGonagall he seemed upset with something. A moment later his expression changed back to the relaxed and caring one he almost always wore.

"We are trapped here. Those ponies with the helmets on are now hostile. Any time we send anything out there, they immediately turn and attack it. Without our own magic there's no way to deal with them short of a catapult. And while I'm sure the students would quite enjoy building those, I won't justify harming what are undoubtedly innocents.

"Which brings me to where we are, or aren't. This isn't Scotland, as is painfully obvious." McGonagall gestured with one hand at the bright windows, but now that I'd seen Dumbledore's face slip, I was more focused on him. "We appear to be in a cold climate still, though there hasn't been any snowfall yet. I had the thought of investing some time with a compass, and can conclude that where west should be is now north. That is, the sun sets in the north."

"We're not on Earth…" Hermione said.

"Five points to Gryffindor," Dumbledore said with a slight smile returning to his face. "This world is not the one with which we're familiar."

"As all of you have seen, I have chosen to give Addera a wand—something that is not universally seen as a good idea." Her eyes flicked ever so slightly in Dumbledore's direction. Dumbledore had his warm and friendly face on still. "The fact of the matter is that giving you a wand, Miss. Addera, doubled the amount of wizardry we can comfortably use."

"What about the house elves?" Hermione asked.

Like a gong going off in my head, the memory of what I'd needed to see Dumbledore about became clear. "That's right. They were using their magic in the infirmary."

McGonagall smiled in a way that bespoke real emotion shining through. "And it's with that kind of thinking that I feel justified for telling you all. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Hermione's smile literally made me smile too. She looked beyond pleased at her revelation. I felt a nugget of anger spark from envy. It should have been me getting that praise but—but it wasn't. It was Hermione, the smartest girl I knew.

"And that's all we know so far. Professor Dumbledore's wards are holding against the onslaught without any sign of them breaking. They were built to take punishment, right Albus?" McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, and I saw the mask slide off Dumbledore's face as he replied with a genuine smile.

"Even twice as many masked ponies—ten times as many—would not break through. They just don't have the raw power needed. And while they're in place, nothing can leave and nothing can enter."

"That means he's outside." Ron's voice beside me startled me into dragging my scrying focus to him, but in the process it landed on me. "If he were inside, he'd be acting. From what Harry said, he doesn't seem the sort to wait around if he doesn't have to."

I barely heard Ron's reasoning. I stared at myself—my big eyes, curved and forked horn, fluffy and disheveled mane, and the armored scales that traced my spine in a wide line—and only stared in wonder. That was me. I wasn't human anymore.

"How'd you work that out, Ronald?" Hermione asked.

"Well, it stands to reason, don't it? He's playing a passive game, protecting his king at the back while fighting for space with his pawns. Something doesn't make sense, though." Ron looked between McGonagall and Dumbledore. "Where's his knight?"

Hermione looked absolutely perplexed. "His what?"

McGonagall cleared her throat, which had the effect of causing all of us to shut up. "Miss. Granger, Mr. Weasley is speaking of the knight piece. They tend to strike rather fast and rather deep, and can be hard to recognize as a threat. I have much to ponder, Mr. Weasley, thank you for that analysis."

"You're forgetting something, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked. At McGonagall's confused glance, he continued. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

It was a dismissal if I'd ever heard one.

Albus Dumbledore was vexed. Every single decision his friend made was wrong. She'd stepped into temporary control of Hogwarts, and had upended the place. Despite the steaming annoyance in his own head, Albus managed to keep his outward calm.

Once the door was closed and the students gone, Minerva McGonagall turned to Albus Dumbledore. "Do you still doubt my wisdom?"

"She's as close to being above reproach as any non-human could be, but that still doesn't mean you should have given her a wand. The history books call them uprisings, Minerva, but what they were was wars. Man against goblin. You know the laws are the law for a reason."

"She's the closest thing Hogwarts has to an actual protector right now. You've seen her move, and we've both heard how bewitching her gaze is. If she'd wanted to destroy Hogwarts, she didn't need a wand to do it. She was meant to be the school's guardian for a thousand years, instead she was made to be its nemesis." As Minerva spoke, her anger outed a little in her tone. "You gave your mantle to me, Albus, don't be surprised that my shoulders are different to yours."

Albus recognized when he'd lost an argument by force. She was right in too many ways—in too many things—for him to be able to attempt to regain his stole of leadership from her. Which is why the little joy at a weight removed was so hollow. "You're right, Minerva. I've run the school a long time, through much conflict. Sometimes I forget how much the world can change."

"The world didn't change, Albus. We just found our way to a new one."

The words were so simple and so correct that Albus Dumbledore couldn't help but smile at them. "I'm still going to get upset whenever you do something different."

"Of course. You've earned that right." Minerva smiled and gestured to the world outside the window. "Besides, you can always pick up the pieces and tell me I told you so if I make a balls-up of it."

"Minerva! Where'd an upstanding young witch like you learn a phrase like that?"

Glad to have her friend back, Minerva couldn't help flicking her tail despite it feeling wrong. It's not a cat tail, get used to it. "I spent enough years in London to have learned quite a few such phrases. Thank you for understanding this little girl and her confusing ideals."

Both wizard and witch managed a laugh before leaving the room and going in separate directions.

Author's Notes:

I included two questions this time. It's a way of saying thank you and apologizing for the story being out of pre-written material. That's right, things are back to a much more sedate pace. Expect 1-2 a month.

McGonagall: Considering that the usage of magic is transforming the human body into this world's inhabitants, since you are an Animagus, does that mean if you turned yourself into a cat and then turned yourself back again, you wouldn't be a human anymore but instead for example, a unicorn?

"Well, for a start I'd rather not try to channel enough magic to complete a full transformation. Literally using that magic on myself could be tantamount to just transforming all the way. Much as that would balance things in our favor so far as wizards and witches capable of magic go, I like being a human, and I like being a cat. I don't foresee myself liking being an equine."

Pinkie: Do you know there are hundreds of brand new beings just arrive in Equestria?

"So that's why my tail has been shaking for two days straight? I thought it was just another world-threatening disaster the likes of which nopony has seen for a thousand years." Pinkie Pie tapped her chin thoughtfully a few times. "Wait, these beings, do they look like the nice lady in the question above? I need to plan her—and all of them—the biggest Welcome to Equestria party ever!"

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The rest of my classes for the day were strange in that Hermione and Addera were constantly whispering—oh, and I was a little quadruped horse. The scrying glass was just about the best thing ever for a near-sighted wizard, and I actually wrote down in Ginny's diary about it. Ginny agreed to remind me.

Ginny was… pretty awesome. With the locomotion charm to write with, talking with her was a simple matter of putting the mirror glass on one side of the book so I could watch class, while I wrote to her and read her replies on the other half.

She'd even managed to produce a pile of random notes when Flitwik had demanded to see what I was scribbling in charms class. I don't think he completely bought it, but he hadn't said anything further.

"Coming to quidditch practice, Harry?"

I hadn't seen Oliver approach, mostly because I wasn't stupid enough to walk around staring closely at a shard of glass. Blinking owlishly at him, I tilted my head to the side. "Sure, why not. I might sprout wings and fly."

"You know ol' McGonagall will sort all this out soon enough, Harry. What I really need you for is safety. Can't practice without someone ready to cast a levitation charm. And not particularly wanting to go with the four-legged look myself, I figured I'd ask the most capable wizard at the school."

It'd be nice to say I wasn't swayed by flattery, but it worked. He was right. The team needed a wizard to watch over them in case someone fell, and I was the wizard of Hogwarts right now. "You twisted my arm, Oliver."

"There you go, Harry. Come on, race you there!" Oliver turned and started running.

Understanding how sport-mad Oliver Wood was, I braced my back hooves and took off as fast as I could after him. It felt good to run and race. Without a clue exactly how I was doing it, I had a run going that resulted in none of my hooves touching the ground for most of it, and it felt like I was the wind!

I blew past Oliver in the hallway leading to the quidditch pitch, but when I got to a corner I had to slow down to nothing, which allowed him to pass me again. Then we were out into the hill leading down from Hogwarts to the pitch.

Oliver stomped his foot a few times at ground that seemed flatter than it used to. "Ignore the ground, the pitch is perfectly fine. Come on, Harry!"

I ran as fast as I could again, and beat Oliver to the pitch where the rest of the Gryffindor team was waiting. Fred and George had their usual cocky expressions that I could see easily despite them being mostly a blur. The two As—Alicia and Angelina—were talking together, while Katie stared at me with absolute shock.

"You really are a horse. A tiny horse. I thought it was all—" Katie snapped her mouth closed.

Barely having worked up a sweat, Oliver reached a gloved hand out to rough up Katie's hair. "You'll have to forgive her, she missed breakfast the other day. Yes Katie, we weren't just pullin' your leg. Harry really is a horse. This is why we don't do magic."

"But he—But you can?" Katie looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Levi-o-sa!" The excited pull of magic as it rushed through me stirred my own excitement. It wanted to be used, it needed to be used—I used it. I aimed my horn right at Katie and she floated a few inches into the air. "See?"

"Katie…" Fred's voice was distinct but trailed off. "Kaaaaaa-tiiiiii…"

"What?" Katie Bell spun around only to see that George had snuck up behind her. She jumped and, thanks to the basic levitation spell, bounced nearly ten feet into the air.

"Katie looooooooves Harry!" George winked to me and then looked up. "Cor, if you were wearing a dress, this'd be worth turning into a horse to see."

As Katie came down, I could see her aiming her boot at George's head, and she had her arm back ready to punch him. From the dull thuds that came as she landed, both connected.

Fred walked up to me while his twin brother was being pummeled, and reached a hand down to stroke my mane. It was the oddest gesture I could have imagined under the circumstances. "Captain!" Fred called. "Captain! I can't practice. I'm feeling a little horse."

"How long were you working on that one, Fred?" Oliver asked.

"He's Fred, I'm George," Fred said.

Oliver reached one arm around Fred's shoulders and squeezed. "Well, George owes me a dozen—"

"I'm Fred!"

"Ah! Glad we cleared that one up. You all owe me ten laps of the pitch before you look at your brooms. Harry, let Katie down so she can punch George properly."

I stopped the flow of magic to my spell as Katie reached the ground, which stopped her from bouncing straight up again. She brought her fist up again only for George to dodge the punch.

"You hit like a girl, Katie!" George took off running.

"Do you wonder," Fred said philosophically as Katie took off running after his brother. "If she realizes that chasing boys to beat sense into them looks a lot like chasing boys to kiss them?"

"Hey, As!" Oliver grinned as Alicia and Angelina looked his way. "If either of you can catch Fred here, you can both run one less lap and he'll run both of them for you." As both girls turned to look at Fred, Oliver laughed. "Ten laps, Fred. Think you can make it?"

"Out run a pair of—" Fred didn't get a chance for another quip, he took off at a dead run when the girls started moving.

"Come on, Harry. I know those legs of yours have speed, but do they have stamina?"

Oliver had a brightness about him when he was near a quidditch pitch. He seemed not just more alive, but able to do anything. It was not just his enthusiasm for the sport, but the charisma that leaked from him whenever his favorite topic came up.

"Enough to out-run you," I said.

He didn't bother with more banter—Oliver just laughed and took off at a run. It wasn't magical, it wasn't even a subtle form of mind control, I just had to run to prove to him that I could be what he thought I was.

I ran. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, but in the end I had to drop back and keep pace with Oliver just to finish the ten laps—and even that was seemingly only because of his urging and cheering me on.

Panting hard at the finish line, I wanted to glare at the team captain and blame him for how tired I felt, but the thing was I felt good. My legs were practically like jelly, and my sides puffed to pull in air, but I was alive with excitement.

"Where's George?" Oliver asked. "And Katie…?"

"Well, Oliver my friend, I'm pretty sure Katie and George are fairly evenly matched runners, you see." Fred gestured to Alicia. "Unlike Angelina"—he then pointed at Angeline—"and Alicia here, who are a little slower than I am."

"We'll get you next time." Angelina sounded more determined than upset at the deliberate name switch. "Just you wait."

"That's the thing, ladies, I don't wait." Fred winked at Angelina.

"Where are they, Fred?" Oliver asked again.

Fred grinned as wide as I'd ever seen him smile. "I saw 'em snogging on the other side of the pitch behind the stands. But that just means George slowed down."

Alicia, far from joining in Angelina with her vocal sparring with Fred, turned her attention on me. "What's it like?"

"Being a not-unicorn?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, everyone reckons the profs'll fix this all up, but even McGonagall has a tail. I saw it last night." Alicia's tone had a kind of wistfulness to it. "I was thinking of casting a spell just to see what would happen. Do you think I'd get a tail, or maybe some ears? Could I just keep casting and get both?"

I wasn't prepared for her next move. Alicia reached down quickly and grabbed me, lifted me up and—hugged me.

"Your fur is so soft and warm, but look at how tangled your mane is. I used to take care of our horses back home, you know. I still have one of the curry brushes because the smell of it reminds me of home." She squeezed me a little tighter and buried her face into my mane.

"Y-You don't really want to be a—a not-unicorn too, do you?" I asked.

"Why do you say not-unicorn?" Alicia's fingers worked into my mane and brushed it slowly.

I almost blurted everything out, but I wasn't sure how much McGonagall had told the other students of the foals Hermione and I freed. "Because I'm not a unicorn? Unicorns don't have scales down their back, or split hooves—"

"Some can have split hooves."

"Right. But how many unicorns catch on fire?" She didn't reply to me. "So I call myself a not-unicorn."

I thought I'd won the argument and Alicia would put me down. Instead, however, I felt her fingers work into my mane and brush it again. "The only thing better than a horn would be wings. Could you imagine playing quidditch without a broom?"

It was almost too much. She wasn't rough in how she held me, quite the opposite, but it was firm. Finally, I slumped in her arms. "Alicia, there's downsides."

"Like?" Her hand trailing through my mane had been snagging on my hair at first, but now it glided through.

"No hands, for one. All I've got is hooves. You have the option of either pushing something with a hoof, holding it in your mouth, or casting spells."

Alicia moved her hand on to running through the puff-ball of fluff on my tail. "I'm not sure if you noticed, Harry, but I'm a witch. Spells are kind of my thing. Pretty handy with a charm or two, you could say."

I thought it was obvious. It seemed obvious. Suffering the indignity of having my tail brushed, I said, "You couldn't play quidditch, Alicia. How can you grab the quaffle without arms?"

With a sigh Alicia stopped brushing my tail. "You know, Harry, you could have swept me off my feet—or hooves—if you had just gone along with my fancies." She carefully put me down. "But you're right. If I can't play quidditch, I'll have to be sneaky."

I looked up at her. "Sneaky?"

"Of course. I'll wait until McGonagall announces to the school she has a cure, and then I'll cast spells like I've never cast before. Who knows, I might even become an animagus as a pony." Her face exploded into soft smiles again. "Then I could even pronk."

I was lost. "Pronk?"

"Addera said you pronked at breakfast. Hermione even backed her up. I wish I could have seen you bouncing like that. I might even give up quidditch to be able to pronk."

"You mean the four-legged bouncing thing?"

"How about a deal, Harry?" Alicia sounded craftier than George or Fred on a con. "You pronk, and I'll give you a kiss on the cheek."

"Nope!" I broke into a run to get away from the mad girl. What was it with all these love letters and stuff? Life was complicated enough.

"Oh! Finally decided to stop making out with Alicia? We can start practice now, everyone." Even my sarcasm had no heart in stopping the smile on Oliver's face. He just wanted to play quidditch. "Now, listen close, I want to see more waist work by George, you gotta twist more. Fred, give your brother hell from odd angles. Make him work to get a hit on you.

"Katie, you'll be on my side, Angelina, you can be on George's. You can have Alicia too when she recovers from whatever Harry said to her. Is everyone ready?"

"Hey! Alicia!" Angelina called. "Get your arse over here!"

I made my way up into the grandstand and climbed the stairs to the very top—not that I needed to be there. Everything was blurry and I couldn't have targeted any of my teammates as they rode in if I'd wanted to. I pulled out that shard of glass and widened the view as much as I could.

"Here. What're you doin', Harry?!" Oliver asked and rode his broom down. I saw him approaching crystal clear in the glass.

"Well, I can't exactly see you without glasses on." I nodded toward Fred and George—though it seemed mostly just a nod toward the team. "Fred and George had some bits of an old scrying mirror. This lets me see you all."

"Nice job, Harry. You sure you can cover us for practice?"

I nodded. "Yup!" Seeing the smile on Oliver Wood's face when he was told he could still play quidditch was worth spending time out here doing nothing. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!" I animated the mirror to make things easier, pouring my magic into it and leaving it flowing.

When Oliver turned and flew off, I cast the spell twice more to control the Ginny's diary and a ballpoint pen, too. It took a little focus to get everything hovering just right, but I could see the players, the diary, and write at the same time.

Hi Ginny. Back again. Helping the guys practice quidditch. They needed someone to catch if they fall. If I stop writing suddenly, I'm probably grabbing one of your brothers with magic after someone hit them as much as they deserve.

Thanks for talking with me, Harry. Being stuck in this diary is interesting, but I'm so completely sick of it. Have you ever wondered what it's like to only be able to read one book? It might be the most exciting book ever, but it's just one book.

I ummed and ahhed about telling her what'd just happened with Alicia.

So, I just keep having rotten luck with girls.

What happened?!

The reply was so fast, before I'd even finished writing, that I was a little surprised. I realized all too late that I probably shouldn't have brought this up.

First I get this love letter that was all magicked up, then I get Alicia wanting to kiss me

She kissed you?!?!

No! Ugh. This isn't helping.

Sorry. I didn't mean to get all worked up like that. What happened?

The return of Calm Ginny was a relief. Even her words appeared slower.

She picked me up and started running her hand through my mane. It felt kinda okay, but then she kept going on and on about how great it must be to be a little pony.

I still can't believe you're a tiny unicorn.

I was about to reply when I watched Katie unseat George and miss a grab for him when she realized he was overbalancing. "Levi-o-sa!" I shot my magic down and at George. I tracked him as he fell toward the ground and the spell caught him in the chest when he was a good ten feet up still.

Instead of the hard impact, George bounced like he was on a trampoline. I waited for him to reach the bottom of a bounce—a moment before he was going to shoot back up—and ended the spell.

"Thanks, Harry!"

Harry?

Sorry, Ginny, just saving your brother from a day or three in the hospital wing.

Which one?

If I said the idiotic one, would it narrow things down?

Laughter covered the page in a dozen scrawling fonts. Everything from calligraphy to what looked like crisp newspaper print. When she stopped her laughter, I continued.

It was George. Katie knocked him clean off his broom with a shove of her shoulders. For a chaser, she plays an awful lot like a beater. Like then! She almost took Oliver's head off.

I wish I could play. Just once at least. So I can knock one of my stupid brothers off a broom.

What happened last night?

The ink of my words faded away, but no reply came. I waited a good ten minutes or so, focusing more on the three-a-side game of quidditch going on.

Ginny? Why won't you tell me?

I don't want to talk about it.

I considered trying to push, but given my luck with girls I'd probably end up kissing her in the end, or something equally weird. Change of topic time.

So how boring is the diary?

Thanks, Harry. It's really boring. Like, he wrote everything down here. I even have all his class notes. Did you know Tom had terrible handwriting in first year? It's like chicken scratchings!

What was he like? As a person, I mean.

If he was honest with his diary? Manipulative, but there's one thing that is consistent. Tom Riddle always believed he was doing the right thing. I skipped past the class notes and lessons, and read

She paused a moment.

I read how he killed Myrtle. He believed it was the right thing to do, Harry. He was sure it was a hundred percent necessary.

It was a lot to take in. Tom—Voldemort—thought he was doing the right thing? Did he think that when he killed my parents? What could he balance all that against that would make it right?

That's just a little messed up.

Yeah, Harry, it is.

I sat in "silence" for a few minutes. Neither of us wrote anything, and I'm not sure how but it was a comfortable way to be. My thoughts were anything but comfortable.

Tom Voldemort Riddle, a philanthropist. It boggled my mind to try to conceive of. He got high marks in school—did he join a sports team? Did he run around like me avoiding girls who wanted to pay him too much attention?

What about the lessons?

Oh! That's the best bit! He took notes on everything, Harry. I could go through this just like it was class!

Have you tried skipping ahead to where he learns how to drive this book?

I think that is the only thing he didn't write down. So it looks like I try things out myself. How's the game going?

Fred has a good cut along his cheek where Alicia got him with a bludger, and I think George is going to either punch or kiss Katie. Maybe both. Girls are strange.

It took me a few minutes to realize what I'd said, and how Ginny probably took it. Not always the fastest horse in the field. I'd have to remember that one.

Sorry.

Will you be able to get my body back?

I'm going to try as best I can. We're not exactly sure where he went to with it, but Ron is sure he'll be outside the wards Dumbledore put up. He wants to bring the wards down, which means he wants to get back in here.

Harry?

Yes, Ginny?

If it's too dangerous, don't risk it.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I stared at the works until they faded from the page. What was I meant to say in reply?

Don't talk like that. It's just some horse ghost that's hijacked your body. I'll get it back in no time.

Thank you, Harry.

I was surprised. After all, I hadn't actually gotten her body back yet. "Levi-o-sa!" I aimed my spell at Katie as she fell off her broom. While she didn't hit the ground, it wasn't because of my spell.

Fred zoomed past Katie as she was falling and caught her, though in doing so it meant his broom was overloaded and he was heading down sharply.

I cast a second minor levitation charm on Fred mere inches before he hit the ground.

Your brother's an idiot.

I dismissed the spells as both reached the ground safely.

Which one? You could be talking about any of them!

Writing my own laughter along with Ginny's, I guess I'd lost track of the time while we chatted, because Oliver flew over on his broom.

"Nice work with your spells, Harry. Same time tomorrow?" Oliver's excitement for quidditch apparently knew no bounds nor any limits. We could be stuck in another world, with unknown monsters and strange new creatures all around us, and he'd want to take some time out for quidditch.

Of course his raw enthusiasm works. I hadn't even gotten to jump on my broom and he had me excited to come back out again. "Sure, Oliver. Gotta keep everyone's skills up."

"That's the spirit! Oi, what you got there?" He pointed at Ginny's diary.

"Ginny. The professors are trying to work out how to get her body back, but until then she's in this book." I held up the diary with the charms I'd woven already.

Ginny, Oliver Wood is here. He says hi.

Hi!

"Huh. Well, I can't think of anyone better to take care of her until it's all sorted. Good luck with finding your body, Ginny, and I'll see you back in the commons, Harry." Sitting up on his broom, Oliver gave one last cocky grin before zooming off toward Hogwarts.

Is he gone?

The words were tiny, barely legible in one corner.

I brought the diary back so only I could see it.

Ye

I didn't get to finish the word before Ginny was replying.

DON'T DO THAT! I had such a crush on Oliver!

What? How was I meant to know that?

He's so strong and loves quidditch so much! What did he say? Tell me everything!

He didn't say much. Complimented me on my spells, asked what your diary was, and he said good luck with getting your body back.

What was he doing? What did he look like? The worst part of all this is not being able to see.

I tried to think for a moment.

He was sitting on his

No. Can you draw him?

Her question surprised me. I'd never really tried drawing before—not since pictures in primary school for a non-existent mother to pin on the fridge—so wasn't sure if I could.

I'll try, I guess.

Harry! Stop!

It was terrible. A stick figure at best, and I was barely done with the broom and starting on his body. I felt terrible for not being able to draw properly.

Sorry.

No, Harry, it's alright. You've never drawn before?

Does sticking pasta to paper in muggle school count?

Not really. Why did you stick pasta to paper?

You know, I have no idea. I guess our teachers just wanted us to do something that didn't involve hurting each other.

Did it work?

Memories of Dudley and his friends came back—they were not fond memories.

Not really.

Why don't you try doing something easier, like the quidditch stands?

Okay, gimme a few to head outside so I can get a good look at it.

I closed the diary around the piece of mirror and made my way out of the stands. Dinner would be served soon, but I didn't feel particularly hungry. When the grass met my hooves again, I felt a particular sense of rightness.

"Don't you dare eat grass, Harry," I said out loud. "Not. One. Bite."

Despite my words, it was tempting to try it. I looked around and even up, but couldn't see anyone. Why don't I listen to myself?

I leaned down and bit at the grass, which didn't break. I tried chewing, biting, but it wasn't until I got a grip around a tuft with my tongue and jerked that the blades actually broke off in my mouth.

It tasted pretty horrid.

With a big smile I spat the grass out. "Perfect. Now I know I'm not meant to eat grass." With such high spirits that I almost felt like pronking, I walked away from the pitch until I figured I was far enough to be able to see it. I turned around and froze at the blurry view.

"I'm the biggest idiot ever. I could have just used the mirror!"

I used the locomotion charm to float the shard of glass out and shift its focus around. Yup, it was certainly easier than coming all the way out here on foot. Ugh. Opening the diary back up, I tried to draw what I saw.

That's good, Harry, but you slipped with a bit. I can fix that.

The writing faded, but so did the one line I'd messed up.

Thanks, Ginny. It's hard to do more precise stuff with locomotor. It doesn't help I have three of them going at once.

I finished drawing a rough representation of the quidditch pitch and stands, complete with the little goals. After a little more flourish (which amounted to adding the tops to the towers) I considered it done.

You're pretty good considering you've never drawn before. Practice more with still objects, but look at people and work out how they move. The secret to drawing is understanding how things are put together.
You could try talking to Madam Pomfrey about borrowing a medical journal.

Her knowledge of the subject surprised me, but it felt good to be told my terrible drawing was a good start.

How do you know so much about drawing?

Charlie. Whenever he'd come home, he'd show me sketches he'd made of dragons. I wanted to know how to draw as good as he could, so he taught me. I kept practicing as much as I could.

So you could teach me?

To my absolute shock details began to fill in on the simple sketch I'd made. Flags, people, even tiny players hovered above the field until it looked amazing. I stared in awe for nearly a minute before I remembered I had to write replies to Ginny.

That's amazing.

I can teach you to draw like this, but you're going to need to practice. Drawing is like anything, you need to keep doing it to get better at it.

Thanks, Ginny, you're the best!

Thank you, Harry. You're pretty amazing yourself. How can you keep three spells going at once?

Standing up, I floated my mirror shard to my bag, and used my mouth to lift my bag onto my back. Now my stomach was alerting me to the high likelihood that it needed food in the next hour.

It's getting easier with practice, which I'm getting a lot of because I need to do it like this. It's funny how much you miss hands when you don't have them any longer.

Try missing a whole body! Sometimes I think I can feel my arm, or a leg, but there's just nothing there.

But you can feel things touching your pages?

A little time passed, maybe twenty seconds, before she started writing her answer.

I didn't think I could, but you know I think I can. Try touching the page

I started walking back for the school building with that same faster-walking pace that had worked so well for getting me away from the pitch. Hovering the book up, I pressed my horn to it.

Was that a stick? Did you just poke me with a stick?!

No! I used my horn. You felt it?

I did! Sorry, it's kinda hard to work out what is happening without being able to see.

As I slipped back inside Hogwarts itself, I felt a measure of safety—like the very rock of the castle would protect me against danger.

Well, I'll just have to get really good at drawing really fast, so you can see what I can see.

Thanks, Harry.

"Rubeus Hagrid, you are an utter fool." The huge half-man half-giant sat on a low bench seat in his cell. His present lodgings were only half as good as the brochures hinted, and given it was Azkaban prison that was saying something. "Gone and done something utterly stupid, and now you're no help to anyone."

Looking down at his hands, Rubeus opened and closed his fists. Bearing the blood of giants meant he could have broken the chains they'd bound him in, knocked down the walls, and bludgeoned any wizard or witch in his way, but the blood of humans tempered his impulsive ways so that he knew if he did all that a dementor (or ten) would sweep down and kiss away his soul.

A light tapping on his door caused Rubeus to look up and raise one bushy eyebrow. "Who's that?"

"I bring you a book to read and some little bit of news." The voice was low, but there was a sense of breathlessness to it that implied the speaker wasn't as big as a human.

"I don't have much call for books." Rubeus heard another annoying knock on the door. "Buzz off."

Another knock. "The news concerns Hogwarts."

Both Rubeus' big hands clenched into fists as he stood up—not that standing made him much taller. Even sitting, Rubeus' head almost scraped the ceiling of his cell. "What're you talkin' abou—"

Rubeus Hagrid froze as a small shape stepped through the door of his cell with a book in hand. "A house-elf? In Azkaban?"

"No one could think of a reason to kill me, and none wanted me left free." Bowing while tipping an imaginary hat. "The guards here didn't know what to do with me, so they made me Azkaban's house-elf. Do you want a book?"

Holding out one hand, Rubeus was surprised at the gentleness with which the tiny creature put the offered book within. He looked down at the title. "Dragonrider?" The title surprised Rubeus. "What'd you say about Hogwarts?"

"Oh? Information isn't free in Azkaban, but you let Toil give you a free one for your first week. You have only been here a week?" Toil asked.

"Yeah."

"Hogwarts is gone. Poof. Disappeared. Took a huge chunk of countryside with it. Causing quite the stir what with all the high-n-mighty types who have their whelps there." Toil tapped at the book in Rubeus' hand. "This one of the best I have. Take care, or I take care."

"What do you mean, gone?" Rubeus almost dropped the book in his thirst for more information. "I've only been 'ere nine days, how can it be gone?"

"Nobody knows! Everybody cares! Nine days? That's not long. You have useful information for Toil, and Toil will find out more about here-again gone-again school for wizard whelps." Toil did a little twirl around the front of the tiny (any room was tiny with Rubeus Hagrid in it, but this cell was particularly small) cell. "Information more important than anything in here. Even lives are cheap. How many dementors did you see guarding the front door?"

The question surprised Rubeus. He tried to think back. "Four. There were four. Three to the left and one on the right—facing toward the door from the outside."

Toil grinned hugely. "Ha! What's your name? Tell Toil so he remember who to spare."

The house-elf seemed a little off the rails to Rubeus, but he had to admit even a mad house-elf was preferable to no company. "Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid."

Tilting his head to the side, Toil looked up at Rubeus. "Hagrid Rubeus Hagrid. Strange name, but fitting to have such—"

"No-no. Just call me Hagrid."

"Hagrid? Hagrid! Small name for a big wizard, but bigger name than Toil, and Toil is small, so it fits. Hagrid is owed one piece of useful information, Toil," Toil said to himself, even waving a finger. "There. Toil remember Hagrid the Big because Toil remembers everyone he owes."

Rubeus watched the house-elf walk back through the door as if it weren't there. "Thank you, Toil." His father's courtesy was so ingrained that even in Azkaban, Rubeus Hagrid couldn't stop.

Toil poked just his head back through the door, then his right hand to tip his still missing hat. "You're most welcome, Hagrid the Big."

Once the sound of Toil outside his door was gone, Rubeus sat back down on his bench. "What a strange fellow." In his hand, still, was the book. "Don't know what this is all about, but if it has dragons in it, it can't be bad."

"Guess who's down the hall, to the left, and bi-iiiiii-g?" Toil poked his head through a door and looked at the wild-haired figure chained to the back wall of the cage. "Oh no! Mr. Bitey is sleeping!"

Tip-toeing forward, Toil almost reached the figure slumped in the chains when the chained up man lunged toward him. "Help! Mr. Bitey trying to bite Toil!"

"Come here you wretch! I'll give you Mr. Bitey!" Sirius Black looked, to anyone watching from the doorway, like a madman. He slathered and snarled at the house-elf. "Come on! I'm hungry!"

"Woo! You can't catch me, Mr. Bitey!" As he capered about the cell, Toil used his magic to send a slip of paper into Mr. Bitey's hair. He saw the moment Sirius felt it, and could see the flash of knowledge in the recipient's eyes. "Can Mr. Bitey speak?"

"What're you doing in there, Toil? Stop pestering your cellmate!" a guard shouted from outside.

Toil did a back-flip toward the door and poked his head through. "Sowwy! Toil just wanted to play with the puppy!" He had to dodge the guard's boot as it swung toward his head.

Once the sound of boots trailed off into the distance, Sirius rolled his shoulders and relaxed into the chains. "What's new?" He fished at his hair to get the note out.

"We have a new special friend who gave Toil a special bit of information!" Toil jumped onto the nest of rags near the front of the cell. "Hagrid the Big told Toil that there is now only three dementors guarding the front door of Azkaban."

"One I could handle, Toil, just one. What about a wand?" Sirius leaned his weight onto the chains and strained against them to keep his muscles working. "Wait. You said Hagrid?"

"Big name, big wizard! So big he could crush Toil with just one pinkie. Toil know just what book make big wizard happy." Toil squirmed his body down to hide inside the pile of rags. "What about Hagrid Rubeus Hagrid?"

Sirius smiled. "Well, if we can get him halfway to angry, we don't have to worry about my chains."

"Why that?" Toil only had his head poking out of the mass now.

"Because he'd strangle me to death."

Author's Notes:

To whomever is most relevant: The castle is very old, built long before anyone invented central heating. How is it doing in its newfound polar environment? The staff won't be able to re-cast any heating/insulation enchantments if they wear out...

"I'll field this one." With a sneer and the kind of sharp sniff that bore the ill-tidings of a loogie's death, Argus Filch wiped one hand clean on his coat. "No idea. Place stays warm. Just works.

"I honestly got no clue what these blighters'll want next. 'Ow does the heatin' work? Where's all the fancy magic things kept?" His sneer deepened. "Wizards!"

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Lab

A Nighttime Visitor

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Waking up wrapped in the biggest and possibly the nicest snake in the world was starting to become normal. This would obviously be a problem for anyone but a wizard, which meant I was slipping further down that absurd path. "Morning Addera."

"How did you believe I was awake?" Addera's voice was practically right by my left ear. It should have completely freaked me out, but after a lifetime of sleeping in cold places alone, this was refreshing.

"I've never seen you actually asleep. Do you sleep?" I stretched and yawned as best I could. The latter was easy, but since three of my limbs were restrained in Addera's coils, only my left-rear leg was able to poke out of the covers.

"Sometimes. Not often, Harry Potter." Her hoof found my ear and started to rub. —It is not time to be awake yet.—

I didn't want to let her win, but with sleep not far behind me her ear rubbing was quick to rob me of consciousness.

I woke up for a second time feeling significantly more confused and tired—which was mostly because Addera was still rubbing my ear. "C-Can you stop th-that?"

Her hoof made three more strokes against my ear before stopping. "You needed more sleep."

She didn't pull her hoof away at first, but when she did I couldn't help but lean that way a little. "That doesn't mean I should have had it. What time is it? Is everyone else awake?"

Addera pressed a piece of paper to my nose. This close I could recognize that it was the same style of folded paper as the other two letters from The Moon and I could also smell a mild perfume. "A young lady left this for you, Harry Potter"

With dread, I opened the letter, simply unfolding it.

Great Qilin,
You lit a fire so beautiful, and so tonight will be perfect for our meeting. Please join me in the greenhouse after lights-out.
Your admirer,
The Moon.

The paper jumped out of my grip (holding things with hooves wasn't exactly easy) and twisted into a tiny version of me. It then pranced about on Addera's scales before rushing across the floor and out of my sight. A flare of light from the fireplace revealed its fate. "Absolutely not."

"Someone is using magic to get your attention, and you negative want to find out who it is?" Addera scrunched her snout up. —Understanding English is harder than speaking it.—

"Alright. Firstly, the word you wanted was don't. Secondly, I hadn't actually thought about that. When she left the letter, what did she look like?" Pulling my forelegs free of Addera's coils wasn't easy, but I managed it after a few moments of struggling.

—I didn't see her, but I recognized her heartbeat.—

"Well?" I asked.

"She was in the hall when breakfast two mornings back."

"Everyone was in the hall that morning." I managed to work my back end free and jumped out of Addera's nest of blankets and coils. "Why do you wrap around me like that?"

—Because you're warm, Harry Potter.—

"Warm? I'm like a hot water bottle?" Free from the clutches of Addera's body, I could stretch properly—of course, I had no idea how to stretch properly. My muscles knew just what to do. Like an over tensioned spring, or maybe even like a cat, I took a few steps forward with my front legs and arched my spine.

The sound of a few joints popping was music to my ears. I put more work into the stretch and wound up dragging one leg forward slowly as the muscle woke up. Remembering back to my discussion the previous evening, I realized wings would definitely be pushing it. Four limbs were more than enough for me.

"What's it been now, three whole days?" I asked.

"Yes. Three whole days since you freed me." Addera sounded positively bubbly. "Perhaps you should get a—a…" She waved her forehooves around. "Time… glass… dirt… falling…"

"Hourglass. Filled with sand so that it empties when an hour is over?" I asked.

Addera slithered herself off the edge of the bed and slithered for the door. "Yes! Should you get one to measure days? How do wizards count days?"

"Well, wizards and witches might use other ways, but muggles use a watch." I jumped down from the bed and trusted my legs to take my weight at the bottom. Carried away with the first bounce, I pronked a few times before dropping to a walk. Then something occurred to me. "Where is everyone?"

"At breakfast."

"Addera! We have to go!" I ran to the door before realizing I was forgetting something—or someone. I aimed my horn at the diary sitting on my bedside table. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!"

Magic sang in the air and wound through my will, my words, and finally my horn before it launched itself at Ginny's diary. I cast a second one at the ballpoint pen beside it.

—Why do you use locomotion over levitation?— Addera asked as she slithered across the room toward me. She easily beat the two objects to me.

"Because I'd just need to cast locomotion on them anyway. I want to be able to use the pen and move the diary with fine movements. Levitation doesn't let me do this." When both items reached me, I lifted them onto my back with my magic and turned for the door.

Addera reached up and over for the door handle, turned it, and pulled the door open. "Allow me."

"Thanks." Despite being who knows how late for breakfast, the morning was going well. I trotted down stairs, through the painting that guarded Gryffindor house, and through the halls with Addera at my side.

As we neared the great hall, I feared we were too late. There should have been lots of noise coming from the huge room as nearly a thousand students talked and ate. At the very least there should have been a booming voice from a teacher.

I rounded the corner and looked into the hall. Everyone was there and eating breakfast, but they were quiet.

—This is very odd, Harry Potter. Why are they all quiet?— Addera asked.

Most of the students at the near end of the tables turned to look at me and Addera. I could see a few ears twitch among the blobs that were people, the backs of a few of their robes moved as if there was a tail pushing them about, and at least one student sported a snout.

—Addera, about two-thirds of them have pony bits. Ears, tails, noses…— I said and swapped to English. "We're not too late are we?"

"Over 'ere, Harry." Ron's voice came from among the mass of part equine wizards and witches.

As we approached where Ron's voice had come from, Addera reached out a hoof and brushed my shoulder. —She's here, Harry Potter.—

—The Moon?— I asked as we neared the Gryffindor table. A few of the first year students turned to look at me and Addera, but most had returned their faces to their plates.

"Here." I could have almost hugged Ron for speaking out. His voice guided me to his side. "You're not going to believe this, Harry, but it seems like no one can stop themselves from casting spells."

Ron's voice was like a switch. The room suddenly erupted into people talking. We were plunged into an anonymous sea of conversations that gave us complete privacy.

Jumping up on the bench, I had to reach my forelegs up to see over the table.

Strong pony legs lifted me up and before I knew it Addera had sat me back down on one of her coils at a much better height to see over the table.

"Hi, Hermione," I said. —It's not Hermione is it? Please tell me it's not Hermione.—

—That is Hermione, Harry Potter.—

—No, I mean The Moon.—

"It's really impolite to talk in parseltongue when we can't understand it," Hermione said. "Honestly. What can't you just say out loud?"

"Someone keeps giving Harry love letters." Addera's head bobbed left and right as she looked blindly at the table. "There are sausages here."

She'd said it with such seriousness and yet such obvious need that I couldn't keep a straight face. While I was giggling, Hermione reached a hand out and tapped the edge of the platter with the big pork sausages on it.

Addera was far too fast to keep track of. She lunged forward with a plate and populated it with sausages from the platter. By the time she drew back, she almost sounded like she was purring.

"Love letters?" Ron asked. "Like that one you got the other day? There were more?"

"Loh-koh-mot-tor!" My spell pronunciation caused silence to fall over the hall. I could practically feel eyes focus on me as I cast the spell and filled the patterns with magic. The spoon on my table came to life under my magic. "H-Hermione, can you help me fill my bowl with porridge?"

"Of course, Harry." Our words carried throughout the hall. Hermione didn't seem to even notice that everyone was looking at us. "Tell me when."

I let her fill the bowl from the pot in the middle of the table. "That'll be fine. Thanks, Hermione."

"I want to learn it too." Hermione passed over my bowl and set it before me. "Parseltongue." Indistinct, I could well imagine the slight pout Hermione would be wearing.

"Repeat this," Addera said. —I cannot speak parseltongue.—

"What? But I don't understand it. How am I meant to repeat it?"

"If you can't repeat it, you can't learn to speak parseltongue."

I hadn't even gotten my first mouthful in. "Hermione, it's because of the pronunciation. Addera just said a phrase that uses most of the sounds. Like quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog does for letters."

Hermione blinked a few times as she took that in. "Oh. Well, can you repeat it?"

Since Addera was taking her time with a Cumberland sausage she'd picked up from her plate, I figured I might as well help. —I cannot speak parseltongue.— I don't know exactly how I just knew that it had all the harder syllables in it, the knowledge was just obvious.

I took a mouthful of porridge and almost gagged—there was no honey on it!

The gibberish that Hermione spoke back resembled nothing like the phrase I'd said. "Was that right?" she asked.

I used my spoon to herd a honeypot closer. "Not a single word." —I cannot speak parseltongue,— I repeated the phrase again for her while I carefully lifted the spoon from the honeypot between both forelegs.

She tried again, and this time I only barely managed not to laugh.

"If you can't make the sssss sounds, you can't speak parseltongue," Addera said once she'd gulped down a sausage. —I cannot speak parseltongue—

—I *gibberish* not speak *gibberish*.—

Addera and I both turned to look at Ron with surprise.

"Well, it's not that hard. You just gotta focus on the tone and the pitch. Did I get it right?" Ron asked.

"Some that you could learn." Addera casually bit another sausage in half and gulped it down.

Hermione made a slightly strangled sound. "What about me? How'd I do?"

I could almost see the annoyance boiling around Hermione's head. I needed to act quickly. "Ron got two words right, the first time, and another half of a word right. You didn't get any, but you could keep trying. It's not like our teachers can really teach us anything right now."

"You'd do that, Harry?" Hermione should have sounded surprised. I'd have taken surprise over the curiosity that seemed to ripple in those four words.

Trapped, there was only one reply I could give. "Yeah." I quickly shoveled as much honey into my bowl as I could manage and started stuffing the oats into my mouth. Oh no! I can't reply anymore. You'll have to talk to Addera instead.

"Thanks, Harry." The tone Hermione used was warm and gentle. Maybe if I shoved oats into my ears I could actually get out of this conversation?

"So you'll teach us, then? You'll teach me how to speak parseltongue?" Ron was halfway through cutting up a thick piece of bacon when a pair of tall figures loomed over us. "What do you two want?"

"We got a present for our snakely friend 'ere," George said as he leaned on Ron's shoulder with one hand.

Plunking down on the bench beside me, Fred pulled something from his pocket. "We was up half the night working on these."

Addera twisted around to face Fred. "Are those my—"

"Glasses. Just keep 'em away from Harry." Fred opened the little wooden box he held and revealed a pair of glasses that were positively odd. The ear-hooks were angled upwards, and the glass in them was completely opaque. It dawned on me that they were the mirror glasses. "Here, try 'em on."

Addera leaned down and let Fred put the glasses on her. They had little triangles of leather at the sides so that even at a tight angle, no one could see her eyes. "Can I open my eyes?"

"If you do, and you whammy us," George said. "Make sure you get us doing somethin' really stupid."

"Why would you want that?" Hermione asked.

"Because it wouldn't be our fault. We could get away wiff anything!" Fred, apparently, was well on the same wavelength as George—as usual.

"I can look!" Addera's words held so much joy they made me smile. "Not look. Better word?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "See. You can see."

"I can! You look really pretty, Hermione." Addera turned to look at me. "Harry! I can see you! You're so cute!"

"Hear that, Harry, you're cute!" Fred reached over and patted me patronizingly on the head. "Actually, you are kinda cute. Here, can we take your picture for something we're working on? We'll put yer name on it and everything."

"So you'll teach us parseltongue?" Fred asked.

"What?!" Ron, Hermione, and I all asked at the same time.

George nodded. "That was our deal. We'll make her glasses that let her see without puttin' the whammy on everyone, and she teaches us parseltongue."

"I have students!" Addera let out what I'll never admit to anyone was a cute, hissing laugh.

Fred reached an arm around Addera's back. "Now we have a professor Snape and a professor snake!"

People were finishing their breakfast and getting up. Behind us, Slytherin house were all moving as one unit toward the back of the room, while Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were just casually getting up in ones and twos.

House Gryffindor were all staying seated.

I tried to gulp down as much of my porridge as I could as fast as I could—something was about to happen.

"What's going on?" Addera asked.

"McGonagall said all of house Gryffindor has to wait behind," Fred said.

Addera (and I) looked at George.

"What?" George asked.

"You always speak after Fred." Addera's mirrored glasses, I thought, were somehow more imposing than her having her eyes closed all the time—though not as bad as her opening them unprotected.

"Well, not this time." George looked proud of himself for nearly three seconds. "She also said you four need to hang about after all of Gryffindor have left."

"I knew it," Addera said and popped another sausage in her mouth.

"This," Headmistress McGonagall said, "Concerns Gryffindor, and Gryffindor only. Miss Addera, please close the doors."

When Addera smiled, I was ready to confirm my hypothesis. Very creepy as just mirrors. She turned and drew out her wand, which spat a blast of sparks over the table. —If you don't do what I want, I'm going to let her put you back on the shelf in that room.— When her wand stopped firing sparks, Addera smiled again. "Loh-koh-mot-tor Yah-nu-a!"

I'd never heard the spell before. I snapped my head around to Hermione, who looked extremely proud of herself. I tried to remember the sound of the syllables, but I wouldn't trust myself to get them perfect first time.

The result of the spell was immediate—the doors of the great hall slammed closed with a resounding thud!

"Thank you, Miss Addera." McGonagall smiled around at the members of her house. "Things have become a little confused in the last several days. It was time to put your fears to rest and clarify what will be happening to house Gryffindor.

"As I now fill the seat of headmistress and continue to teach transfiguration until we can find a substitute, I cannot in all conscience remain as head of Gryffin—" McGonagall had to raise her voice to get over our collective cries of denial. "Pipe down! This is not up for debate!"

"Don't care, Miss. You're our head," Oliver said, and a lot more voices put in their support.

"Gryffindor deserves a head who can devote the time it needs. I will be stretched thin already with my duties to the whole of the school." McGonagall's normal mask was slipping—orally at least. I could hear her voice crack a few times. "If we can find someone to take over transfiguration in a timely manner, I may be able to take back the duty—though you can't expect any favor from me as headmistress."

"I will be taking over as temporary head of Gryffindor." Dumbledore's words stunned us all. He couldn't have stalled us into silence any better if he'd summoned a thunderbolt. "I trust I can carry the torch until you're ready to take it back?"

"Th-Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Stay strong, house Gryffindor, and always maintain your honor," McGonagall said. "Miss Addera, the door again please?"

"Loh-koh-mot-tor Yah-nu-a!" With a wave of her wand, Addera threw the heavy doors at the end of the hall open again.

"Come on, everybody, make your way to class." Percy—Ron's brother—was herding Gryffindor students out. He looked jittery, though that wasn't surprising given the head of house Gryffindor had just changed. I almost expected him to stop with us, but he spared barely a glance at the table between Addera, Ron, Hermione, and I and quickened his pace for the exit.

When Percy herded the last of the students out, he pulled the doors closed by hand behind him.

"I won't tarry long," Dumbledore said. "I have many wards who are likely acting like chicks without their mother hen."

"Thank you, Albus." McGonagall looked around the other members of faculty. "We can no longer assume help will be coming. We have lacked any outside contact via the Floo network, and all our owls keep returning without delivering their messages. It was hoped that the Ministry would have contacted us by now or, failing that, any other wizards."

"Why are you allowing students to sit-in on this?" Snape sounded as if our mere presence was a personal affront. I wished I'd brought my mirror so I could see.

"Because, Severus, they are as tangled up in all this as anyone else. Mr. Potter and Miss Addera are the—" McGonagall said.

Snape cut in, "The preference of house Slytherin for reptiles aside, why are we giving wands to non-humans?"

"Severus Snape! You will not interrupt me!" McGonagall sounded about as annoyed as I'd ever heard her. "Your own house is indirectly responsible for her imprisonment here at Hogwarts for a millennium. Not only does the school owe Miss Addera a great debt, but in a world where the chief species is not human, she is likely the only ally Hogwarts has.

"I will personally stand accountable for granting her a wand."

It seemed like everyone was waiting for Snape to say something, but I didn't hear a word come from his direction.

"Very well. What we will be doing this morning will be investigating these ponies, and attempt to liberate at least one adult from those accursed helmets. I trust Mr. Potter has taught you the shield spell, Miss Addera?" McGonagall asked.

"No headmistress. Hermione did." Addera sounded very pleased with herself. "She taught me a lot of spells."

"Bravo, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor." McGonagall sounded if not happy, then at least not as annoyed as a moment ago. "You will hold that shield with myself to cover you for emergencies, while Mr. Potter uses his composite spell to free as many ponies as he can."

"I can help too, Miss. I shielded him before, and I'll do it again!" Hermione looked right at me as she spoke.

"And me," Ron said. "I'm not leaving your side this time, Harry."

"This, Professor Snape, is precisely why I chose to bring them all in on this." Now McGonagall sounded pleased. "Though it won't be necessary, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. I won't have a student risking themselves before me."

"Perhaps I would be better to bring?" The wizened form of Flitwik—looking mostly like a white blur atop a dark splodge—rose from his seat.

"A perfect plan," Snape said. "Let's all walk out and right into a trap."

"You're both being fools. Why don't we listen to what our new headmistress has to say?" Sprout asked of both of them, causing silence. "Now then, what were you saying, Minerva?"

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Yes, well, we certainly don't plan to engage a large group, and would rather find one or two off on their own. Thank you, both of you, but I'm sure we'll be perfectly capable with a witch, a wizard, and five sharp minds."

"What I don't get—" Ron froze as quickly as he started talking. Looking toward where every adult in authority stared at him, he snapped his mouth closed. "S-Sorry."

To my surprise, it was Snape who stood up. "Despite my objections to our new headmistress' plans, even I was surprised by the tactical acumen that happened to come from a Weasley. Perhaps, I have to wonder, we might have finally found one that is worth teaching. Please, Mr. Weasley, bestow whatever gem of insight you have dreamt up. And do try to prove the first time wasn't a fluke."

"Err, quite. Thank you, Severus." McGonagall sniffed as if she didn't approve of something despite her words. "Please, Mr. Weasley, do continue."

"Right. Well, I was more kinda wondering why you changed your mind like this? What was so different today from yesterday?"

"That was my fault." Dumbledore's voice was soft, as it usually was when he had something thunderous to impart. "Minerva came to me for advice, and I gave her my best assessment at the time."

"Albus, please. It was you who warned me your advice was based off incomplete information. We may be witches and wizards, but we can still make mistakes. Ultimately, the decisions were mine. I made it, I unmade it." McGonagall seemed determined to take the blame from Dumbledore. I wish I could have seen either of their faces.

There was some silence, which would have normally been a good thing, except it felt like there were words not being said, rather than people not having anything to say. Eventually McGonagall stood up from the seat at the head of the room. "No time like the present. Come along."

I gulped down the last two mouthfuls of porridge and jumped down from Addera's coils. In my mind, the twinned spells that I knew removed the masks squirmed and wriggled under my attention. Just focusing on them this much caused a slight tingle of magic in my horn—the same tingle you feel at the back of your neck during the start of a thunderstorm.

Ron was first to reach my side (I'm pretty sure I saw Addera gobble another two sausages). In his hands he turned over the length of rough willow his older brother had carved. "I hope I don't have to use this."

"Did you get the other 'wand', Ron?" I asked.

"Fred lent me 'is spare. Good solid one. I hope I don't have to use that, either." Despite sounding worried, Ron has a little smile as he patted his robes with one hand. Say what you will about the majesty of magic, if you can club a wizard over the head with a beater's bat, he stops casting.

Addera slithered up beside Hermione, and the two conversed in hushed tones.

"Harry," McGonagall said, "Are you ready for this? I had hoped we'd have help by now, or at least work out how to use magic without risking transfiguration."

"How many do we need to get out?" Ron asked.

The question interrupted any reply I might make. I was curious about Ron's sudden surge in confidence. Had the incident with the foals really affected him that much?

"Our aim is just one unless things progress absolutely perfectly. Any adult would be fine, but we'll make further plans when we reach a group." McGonagall led the way out of the great hall, through the entrance hall, and out into the crisp air of whatever place the castle now resided in.

The warmth of the previous day's sport practice had been erased by the night's chill, and somehow the world felt even colder yet. Surprisingly, however, I didn't feel particularly cold anywhere except my nose. A fur coat, it seemed, beat a school uniform and a robe any day.

McGonagall aimed us north—well, what north should be. Without being able to see well, everything else had a greater effect on me. The feel of the cool ground under my hooves—the feel of hooves at all—was something new that only solidified the strangeness of my situation. Strange, yet right.

Every time I thought of the two spells together, my horn twitched with magic. It felt—it felt like it was alive and wanted to play. It wanted to see if I could cast the duplicated spell, and it held no sour grapes that I beat it last time. Okay, so maybe I didn't exactly have a wand anymore, but I had never felt more like a wizard than I did now.

"How are the foals doing?" Ron asked into the silence.

McGonagall turned to look at Ron with as warm a smile as she ever got. "As well as could be expected. They were all asking after both you and Harry, or so I heard. Perhaps you could both look in on th—"

Everything started moving in slow motion, even me. McGonagall stopped talking, Hermione and Ron suddenly turned their attention outward, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck (now significantly more than usual) prickle.

Then there was a flicker of magic.

In motion before any of us knew there was danger, Addera lifted her wand out and aimed it with her hoof. "Pro-tay-goh!" Magic thrummed in the air as she stroked down with her wand. Not a full heartbeat later a beam of burning black-red-green magic slammed into her invisible shield spell.

"Excellent protego, Miss Addera. Harry?" McGonagall, along with the others, ducked low to make herself harder to see.

Everyone was crouched down except me. I'd barely heard her words and could hardly feel anything other than righteous anger. How dare they use this magic on us?! I didn't hide! I charged!

Feeling the fire wrap around me seemed right. The anger turned my fur black and caused blue-red flames to erupt from my mane, tail, and hooves. My vision narrowed and sharpened until I could see the pony who was blasting us.

The pony was startling in that they were a unicorn. A real unicorn. A dull pink body was partially covered by armor, and their blue mane was pinned to their neck by the helmet that clung to them. But their horn protruded through the helmet.

Marching with purpose, I passed the protective barrier Addera had put up and watched—as if in slow motion—as the beam of magic traced a line over her shield toward me. My fire burned hotter still, and destructive force met its match. The beam deflected and twisted to avoid me as I kept coming.

"Ex-pel-lee-ar-muss!" Two female voices pronounced the charm at the same time, and two bright red flares of magic shot past me toward the unicorn in a helmet.

Magic flared and I was only a few yards from them when as the helmet crumbled around their head—rent by the twin disarm charms.

I felt my fire calming at the destruction of the thing that'd gotten me angry in the first place. Calmness started to flow through me, and my flames started to die down. I totally had this under contr—

Purple fire slammed into my side and hurt. This was cheating! I cried out in shock, but before I could fully register the situation or the pain, the fire was gone—its end punctuated with a dull thud.

An ally, Ron, stood over another of the big ponies with his beater bat out. "Got 'em, 'Arry!"

New fire erupted where my old anger was fading. Like a burning log that is kicked, I sent a rush of blue-red sparks into the air and looked for more targets.

"M-Miss Addera, Miss Granger, we need to fetch our subjects and those boys and leave before more arrive." McGonagall's voice barely made sense. Why should I leave when I was still angry?!

"Harry!" Ron's voice was practically beside me. "Harry you daft git, put your fire out before it—"

Something new was coming. I aimed my horn in Ron's direction and let magic sing through it. I was an aqueduct for the fury, and it all aimed just above Ron Weasley's terrified expression.

When my own blast met the fat ball of angry fire that I'd seen shooting toward Ron, it sprayed flames everywhere but on my friend. My friend! A feral grin pulled at my lips, and anger at whoever had attacked my friend lit a tornado of flame within my head.

The fight became a blur that only sharpened when my senses pulled my attention to another incoming attack. When I looked at something, not only was it crystal clear, but it was doomed.

I could hear Hermione, McGonagall, and Addera screaming conflicting orders behind me, but there was just one thing I had to do—keep Ron from getting hit while he dragged the second pony over beside the first, then he grabbed both by a leg each. The idiot was trying to save these creatures that had to weight a ton (maybe even literally) while there was still more attacks coming.

We backed out slowly, but each step backward I took cost me a supreme effort. I wanted to hunt down everything attacking us and destroy them. When we passed back within Addera's shield, I judged it was time to go on the attack. Just as I was taking my first step, I felt magic start to tingle behind me.

"Ah-gwah-men-tee!" It was McGonagall's voice that met my ears moment before the jet of water did. I turned on her to see yet more water coming my way. It wasn't the water that caused me to calm down, however, but her worried look. Headmistress McGonagall was worried, and I don't think it was completely for me.

The water had the desired effect, if the desired effect was a steam cloud and an annoyed Harry Potter. It was cold and now I was wet, and I—I wasn't angry enough to keep my flames burning.

"Hermione, can you give me a hand with these?" Ron asked.

I turned my head, but the glorpy mess was back in the middle of my vision and I barely made out Ron and Hermione arranging the two ponies to be dragged.

An angry hiss was my only warning that I was about to be picked up. One of Addera's forelegs—arms—(or whatever) tucked me close to her fuzzy torso while her other hoof brandished her wand in the direction where the attacks had come from. "Can we go?"

"A grand idea, Miss Addera. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, please lead the way." McGonagall didn't look any more like a pony, but without getting closer or getting new glasses, I couldn't really tell.

In all, the whole trip back to Hogwarts castle let me ruminate on just how much I'd messed up.

The friendship express was pulled by a reliable and pretty workhorse of a locomotive. It's lines were cemented in everypony's mind as what an Equestrian train should be. This was not the friendship express. The pink locomotive was a newer model, and was nearly fifty percent as long again as the one that pulled the friendship express, and right now it was pushing a train, not pulling.

Railthin, an earth pony that should have been light brown with a red mop of mane and tail, was currently (and almost permanently) a dirty gray from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail. With the shovel in his mouth, he tossed another load of crystals mixed with coal into the firebox. Inside, magical flames consumed the mixed fuel and produced heat far in excess of anything that could have been made by either fuel on its own.

The big earth pony stallion was hardly the only pony aboard the train. In the single forward car were six of some of the biggest stallions anypony was likely to see in their lives. Four of them had a horn protruding from their head, while two more bore a pair of wings at their shoulders. They were the Royal Guard of Equestria, and they only traveled where the princess willed.

Pacing up and down the car, ignoring the rocking movement, Flagessio worried at the problem in her mind, but she wasn't alone. The Royal Guard were aboard the train because of two ponies—Prince Shining Armor and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Both royals were glued to the viewing window at the front of the car.

"Sir?!"

Shining's attention broke away from the oddly designed train car's huge window to the leader of the half-squad of guard. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"We'll be reaching the end of the tracks in about five minutes. My squad will be ready to move with you and the princess."

Cadance turned as well, but her eyes weren't on the array of stallions. She watched Flagessio pacing up and back the aisle of the car. "Please, everypony remember that we are hoping this will be a peaceful mission."

Everyone was quieter after her statement than Cadance would have liked. A minute or more went by when the train's brakes squealed and everypony was shoved forward. Spinning around to look ahead, Cadance saw a unicorn standing—rugged up against the cold weather with a large scarf, his horn glowing bright red in the early morning light.

By the time the train stopped, Keen Eyes had to walk to reach the front car's door. A light dusting of snow began to fall, and he cursed the weatherpony-less skies.

Two big unicorns left the train on each side and scanned around them for threats. On one side they spotted the lone unicorn. "Name?"

"Sergeant Keen Eyes of the E.U.P. Guard scout regiment, northern divisi—" He didn't get any more words out. A flurry of feathers pounced out of the train like a lioness and shot toward him.

Flagessio wrapped Keen in her forelegs and her wings, and completely failed to see the smile that grew on Princess Cadance's face behind her. "Anything happen? You're okay?"

"I'm fine, but the rails aren't. I need to report to the princess." Keen brushed his lips along Flagessio's cheek and walked free from her hug to approach Princess Cadance.

"Shiny? We need to listen to this Guard's report so he can return to his fillyfriend." Cadance was only half joking, though she was always happy to see a grown stallion blush who was in love, and Keen Eyes blushed quite a bit.

"Sergeant Keen Eyes," Shining Armor said as he turned from seeing the Royal Guard deploy. "Your report is greatly anticipated."

"As per standing orders, I did not approach the Crystal Empire, nor did I perform any magic other than strictly observational. There is a bubble of magic that is almost impossible to detect without directly probing it—it's covering the whole of the Empire."

"How did you detect it, then?" Shining asked.

"My name, sir, is not an exaggeration. I have my notes here." Keen passed Shining his official notes on everything he'd observed. "A day ago there was some flaring around the far side of the barrier, which made it much easier to detect. The weather, too, seems to have turned wild. There was a thunderstorm last night, which is why I stopped the train early."

One of the pegasi Royal Guards came swooping in after performing his initial scouting. "Sir! The rails are melted clear through just up ahead."

Shining's eyes turned from the reporting Royal Guard back to Keen Eyes. "Good work, sergeant. Our train's heading back. Your team can take it—"

"Sir!" Keen turned to look back at Flagessio. "I need to talk to my squadmate, but I believe we'll be seeing this one through."

"Then talk with Lieutenant Star Flare about your duties." Shining Armor turned his attention to his wife and the report. "Cadie, we need to work out what is going on here."

The Royal Guard hadn't wanted Cadance to get this close to the barely visible barrier. Even this close the shield seemed to shimmer with dangerous energies that she couldn't pick apart. "It's trying to make us leave?"

"That's the best I can tell, Your High—"

"I told you, Spark, just Cadance will be fine."

Spark Splash rolled his eyes. He was a big buff stallion—as all were in the Royal Guard—but among a group of peers known for fighting prowess, he was a nerd. He accepted the title with honor, and it was why he was here. "Cadance, the barrier seems to be attempting to push everything away."

"Then why are we able to come so close to it?" Cadance looked at a slight shimmering to the pattern of the barrier with curiosity.

"Because it's doing it gently, Your—Cadance. Would you like my opinion?"

Cadance nodded.

"This isn't the work of any madpony. This was somepony who cares who might get affected by this. They just don't seem to understand how magic works, though. I'd wager it wouldn't do anything unless you actually touched it."

"Why is that?"

"Whoever made this forgot to account for the magic in everything. It's like the most gentle of bubbles in the ocean."

"But it's working?" Cadance liked the way Spark Splash thought, and the way he explained things. "It's keeping things out?"

"The technical work in it—If I had to wager, Your Highness, I'd say the pony who made this doesn't understand how magic works here, but they do understand magic at a fundamental level. Look how it weaves and flows together? It's reinforcing itself."

"We will wait," Cadance said, "And see if its creator comes out to say hello. And, Spark, please just call me Cadance."

Author's Notes:

Lucius Malfoy: Have you heard of what happen to Hogwarts and your previous son because of the accursed diary you slipped to Ginny Weasley?

Raising an eyebrow, the head of the Malfoy family also raised one side of his upper lip in a sneer. "First and foremost, if I find anyone who had anything to do with the kidnapping of my heir, they'll wish I'd given them leave to rot in Azkaban!" As he spoke, Lucius Malfoy's voice rose from a calm and even tone to a shout that resulted in him loosing some spittle. Clearly seething, he settled back down and adjusted his collar. "And for what it's worth, I wouldn't slip a Weasley a life preserver on the Titanic, let alone something as mundane as a diary."

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Self-Doubt

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I kept my head down on the walk back. For all we were in possibly hostile lands, I trusted Addera to hear anything coming before it could actually hurt us.

Talk about messing up. As soon as things went bad, I'd lost control and put everyone at risk. If it weren't for Ron thumping that second helmet-head, and—McGonagall and Hermione! I lifted my head and looked at Hermione. She was walking along pulling one of the ponies behind her with Ron to help (they each had a leg).

I caught glimpses of Hermione's hooves under her robe as she walked, and saw the back of her robe moving in time with her steps.

My head turned on its own to look across at McGonagall.

Her eyes found mine. "Keep going, Mr. Potter. This was my fault entirely." She was a really good liar.

It was all my fault. I'd been so proud of being the only one who could do magic that I'd forgotten to rein in my anger. Even a pun wouldn't make me smile right now. I turned my head forward again before it dawned on me what I wasn't seeing—McGonagall's ears were not visible at the sides of her head. It looked bizarre. I just knew that if she took off her hat, a pair of pony ears would be atop her head.

"You should have brought Professor Flitwick," I said.

"Perhaps, but it was my decision. That, Mr. Potter, is why it's my fault."

"It's neither of your fault!" Hermione's voice sounded as if she'd just found something extremely unpleasant. "Whoever did this to these ponies is to blame!"

I turned my head again in time to catch a flicker of surprise fading from McGonagall's face. "Well, we did save two of them. That counts for something, right?" I asked.

"If and when they wake up, we'll see." McGonagall turned to look our way, but her eyes were fixed above me—at Addera. "You did wonderfully, dear."

Addera's arm squeezed me, imparting some measure of support I didn't expect from the contact. I turned to Addera and pressed my cheek to her chest. I wish I could just go back and fix it, warn myself that I needed to be calm and not charge in.

Why did the smell of horse mixed with snake sooth me? No clue, but it worked. I kept all my self-recrimination to simply brooding for the whole trip back.

"We're back," Addera said.

I lifted my head and rubbed at my eyes with a hoof. A hoof. "Thanks, Addera."

—You did well, Harry Potter.— It wasn't just that she said it, but that Addera could say it without a hint of exaggeration or lie.

—I screwed up. I couldn't stick to the plan, and I just charged in!— I said.

—With so many of you around me, and with the magic I kept up, I couldn't feel that second one approaching. If you hadn't gone forward, it would have flanked me instead, Harry Potter. I don't think I could take a hit from it like you did.—

—So I was the best distraction?—

—Couldn't ask for better, Harry Potter, than someone already on fire.— There was a hint of mockery in her tone, but rather than make me feel bad it made me giggle.

"Get them to the infirmary. All four of them. Miss Granger cast another spell, and Mr. Potter took a hit in his side from one of their energy beams." McGonagall was directing house-elves. No sooner did she speak than each of the two ponies and Hermione disappeared.

"Excuse me, Harry Potter, would you allow me to apparate you to the infirmary?" I could tell it was Relaxation by a slight tear in one edge of her ear. She bowed to Addera and me, and held out her hand.

"If you harm Harry Potter…" Addera let her threat stop, flashing a fang-filled smile at Relaxation as she set me down on my hooves.

The truth was I wanted to stay in her hooves. Addera was warm and cozy, more so than anywhere I could remember sleeping in my life. "Thanks, Addera." I lifted one hoof to Relaxation's hand. The next moment I was in the infirmary.

In the infirmary and vomiting on the floor—right beside Hermione!

"You back again? What happened?" Madam Pomfrey sounded a perfect blend of annoyed and upset. "And you brought me more ponies? First time apparating?"

Coughing a little, Hermione sounded as bad as I felt. "We liberated them from some nasty helmets. Harry took a blast in his side, and I—" Hermione cleared her throat. "I cast another spell."

Pomfrey looked between all four of us. "Mr. Potter, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the pain?"

"Uh, zero, miss." It was true, there wasn't any pain. I looked to the side I'd taken the hit on, and couldn't even see any fur out of place. "I guess it didn't really do—"

"I'll be the judge of that, but after I see to these two." Reaching to the throat of the first adult pony, Pomfrey checked for pulse, and then took out a mirror to hold before their mouth. "Even heartbeat and breath. Rest, can you take them to a bed, please?"

Rather than apparate, Rest snapped his fingers and levitated the pony up and led the way into the ward.

Repeating her checks on the other pony, Pomfrey directed Relaxation to lead them into the ward. "Now let me take a look at you two. Don't worry about the sickness—first time apparating?"

"First and last," I managed to say.

"I doubt that." Without asking permission, Madam Pomfrey stuck her (cold!) hands behind my forelegs and lifted me onto a table. "Which side took the hit, and can you describe the spell?"

"It wasn't a spell. At least, it wasn't a spell I know, and I don't think Headmistress McGonagall knew either. It happened right as Harry was turning back from his fire form." Hermione stepped past the mess on the floor and gestured to my right side. "It hit him right here."

Her fingers, I could see, sparkled like gemstones—like the foals when they crowded around my flames. I looked up at her face, and her eyes met mine. "I'm sorry."

Hermione's expression hardened and her eyes narrowed. "Strange things are happening. I don't think it's really your fault for not being able to control this right away. Those people needed saving."

Cold fingers poked at my side, brushed the fur around where I'd been hit with the spell. It was tender, and I winced a little from the touch. "A little sore?"

I nodded. "A bit."

"It doesn't resemble a burn, nor do you seem in shock over it. If the pain becomes worse, let me know." Pomfrey turned to Hermione. "Now, I'm going to need to have a good look at this—don't think I didn't notice your fingers. Follow me." When I struggled to stand and turned to face them, Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at me. "Mr. Potter, your devotion is admirable, but I cannot allow you to attend a medical examination of this sort. Rest?"

Embarrassment and panic struck with equal amounts. When the house-elf appeared, I jumped down. "I'll walk!" Apparating again wasn't on my list of things I'd like to do.

Pomfrey smiled as if she knew how much I didn't want to take a shortcut again. "Rest, please escort Mr. Potter to a bed."

When I turned for the door, I saw that the mess on the floor was gone. With one last concerned look at Hermione—and seeing her hands still crystalline—I turned for the ward and started walking.

When we were out of earshot of Pomfrey, Rest chuckled. "You learned fast. Do what Pomfrey says the first time—it's a good lesson."

"She gets upset?" I asked.

"What? No. She's just always right. 'Least when it comes to fixing people." Rest gestured at the door ahead, and the handle twisted obligingly. "Why's there a book stuck to your back?"

"That's my friend, Ginny Weasley. She's got a bit of a problem at the moment, but we're hoping to get it all fixed soon." As soon as I spoke, I heard the thunder of little hooves. My ears tracked the sound, and I looked just in time to see Tourmaline and her friends slide to a halt beside me.

"Did you rescue the two ponies?" Tourmaline asked as she waved a hoof at some beds a bit further down.

"I think the mare is a friend of my mom's." Tanzanite sounded worried. "They look really dull. Did you remove helmets from them?"

"Did they have helmets on?"

"Of course they did. Everypony had helmets on."

"Hold on!" I looked around the foals. "Come on. I need to lay down or Rest will have to make me, and I don't want that."

Rest bobbed his head with a smile.

"I'll explain what happened, or at least what I can remember." I walked with purpose to an empty bed and tried to jump onto it.

When my rump hit the floor, Zircon snorted. "You have to kick harder." He walked up beside me and then sprang up and onto the bed. "Like that."

Oh, sure, just like that. I stood back up and was about to jump when a hoof poked me.

"Not like that. You have to bunch your muscles. Bend your leg so you're almost sitting again." It was one of the foals I hadn't caught the name of.

I followed their directions.

"Now kick and jump up!"

"Good thinking, Garnet," Tourmaline said.

Kicking as I jumped, I shot into the air and nearly went over the bed completely. I was so elated that I made it I pronked in a circle on the bed. "That was awesome! How'd I even do that? Was it magic?"

"No, silly, it was your muscles. You just weren't using them right." Zircon poked my thigh muscle with a hoof that nearly pushed me over. "This here is the strongest muscle in your body." The way he spoke made it sound like he'd learned the words from someone else. "You weren't using them at all."

"Huh. Are there any other things I should know about?" I asked.

"Well," the foal I now knew was Garnet said, "Should we tell him how to breathe fire?"

My heart skipped a beat for a second. I stared at the foal in shock. "Breathe fire?!"

Tanzanite crouched and pounced onto the bed, laying a good thump into Garnet's shoulder. "We can't."

"Why'd you tell him that? It would have been funny watching him try!" Garnet said.

"Duh, because he might have done it?"

All five foals looked at me expectantly.

"I don't think I can breathe fire." My words failed to convince them. "I mean, I haven't really tried, but I don't think this bed would be a good place to practice."

They all looked down, realized they were on the bed too, then looked back up at me.

"Good point," Garnet said.

"So what happened?" the one foal (a filly) who I didn't have a name for yet asked.

"Well, uh…" I looked to Tourmaline. "Sorry, I don't know all your names yet."

"That's Citrine." Tourmaline pointed at the formerly unnamed filly. "She's normally really quiet."

Focusing on the spell that held Ginny's diary to my back, I brought her around to float in front of me. The pen sandwiched between the pages from last time we'd chatted was a bit melted at the end, but it seemed otherwise alright. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!" Now I'd be able to write the story as I told it. "Well—"

I explained everything: our readiness to deal with everything except me going crazy, Addera doing excellent work with a shield spell, Hermione and McGonagall zapping the helmet off one, and Ron clubbing the helmet off the second.

I'd been so focused telling it all to the foals that I didn't even see McGonagall standing at the doorway, quietly listening. She walked down the hall toward us, not making a sound with her shoes. "I was going to ask you to explain what you saw, Mr. Potter, but I think that covers it nicely."

I snapped Ginny's diary closed around the pen. "Uh, thank you, ma'am."

"Madam Pomfrey has cleared you, but she thought spending some time in here with your new friends might be a good idea—to which I agree." McGonagall was still wearing her hat, and I could see that it still revealed her lack of human ears. "Miss Granger will be joining you shortly." Her expression seemed to soften. "Harry?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am?"

"Do try not to get yourself into such situations again." With that said, McGonagall turned and made her way for the door. Even at this range, as she walked, I could see the bottom of her hooves with each step she took.

"Headmistress McGonagall?"

She stopped and turned her head. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Was there a way I could actually say it that would make me feel better? "I'm sorry. Really sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Would it help if I deducted a point?" She sounded like she was smiling, but without being able to see properly I couldn't tell. She must have seen my grin, because she dipped her head a little. "One point will be taken from Gryffindor."

I had a flashback to when Hermione had taken the blame for us fighting the troll that had broken in during first-year. A poke in my side made me wince and turn to see Tanzanite gesturing at my ribs.

"Is that where they zapped you with their helmet magic?" Tanzanite asked.

"Yeah," I said, "But Ron stopped them before it could hurt too much."

The filly tipped her head to the side. "He's the one who keeps sneaking in with cookies? Red hair on top, no tail…"

"Sounds like him." I opened Ginny's diary back up and saw my name printed inside with a question mark after it.

Sorry, Ginny. McGonagall came in and wanted to discuss some things.

Oh! I was worried.

I just found out your brother has been sneaking here to give the foals cookies.

He used to sneak me cookies. Don't tell him I said it, but he can be a pretty good big brother sometimes.

The door opened again and two shapes walked in—one of them making clopping sounds with each step. "Harry?" Hermione asked. "I caught her listening at the door."

"I can't go in. The time is not auspicious yet!" The voice sounded light and airy. When I narrowed my eyes on them, they were wearing a hat.

"Well tough luck! You shouldn't be—Hey!" Hermione was in some kind of scuffle with the stranger.

I jumped to my hooves and took off at a run, but by the time I reached Hermione the stranger had fled. "Who was she? I think that was the girl who's been sending me letters!"

Recovering her stance, Hermione looked at the patch from a robe in her hand. "I don't know, but—"

"But what?" I asked.

"It wasn't a girl, Harry. I thought it was at first, but that was a boy." Holding up the patch she'd ripped from their robe, Hermione grinned. "Ravenclaw, too. I'll tell Headmistress McGonagall about this!"

"Wait!" I ran around and stood in the doorway. "Why don't we wait until lunch and see who shows up in a torn robe?"

"And what if there's no one in a torn robe?" Hermione asked.

"Then we'll go to McGonagall." I looked at her hand where it held the crest of Ravenclaw. "Did you see his face?"

"No such luck. I caught him from behind and he ducked his head down." Hermione's eyes widened. "Wait. He's the one sending you the letters everyone's been talking about?"

"I think so. Maybe. He kinda sounded like the letters." Then it hit me. Hermione had said everyone's been talking about these letters. This was the worst thing ever! "How many people know about the letters?"

Hermione looked away. "Fred and George—"

"They'll tell everyone!"

"Let me finish, Harry." With a deep breath, Hermione started walking in the direction of the bed I'd recently vacated. "Fred and George opened a book on it."

Then I was done for. If they'd opened a book on who it was, then I would—Hold on. "You were trying to find out who it was!" I trotted to catch up with Hermione and reached the bed at the same time she did. "That's my bed."

Five little gasps distracted me from the conversation we were having. Hermione had reached out to pet Tourmaline's head, but the foals had seen her hands.

"You're a crystal pony!"

"Don't be silly, she's not a pony!"

"She has hooves for it."

Tourmaline looked up at Hermione with a big grin. "Your crystal is very pretty." When the others all nodded to back the filly up, Tourmaline continued being bold. "Can we see the rest of it?"

Hermione slipped out of her robe and sat on the edge of the bed. "Turn around, Harry."

Confusion reigned. "What? Why?!"

"Just do it? Please?"

Turning around, I couldn't help but add, "It's not like I can see anything. I need new glasses."

More gasps of surprise from behind me were almost enough to make me turn.

"You're really pretty, but you don't have your cutie mark yet?" I could pick the voice as Citrine's.

"What's a cutie mark?" Hermione asked.

Five little gasps implied that this was yet another revelation.

"Cutie marks are the symbol of your destiny! They're really important! We should be getting ours any day now, but you're older than us—you should have one already!" Zircon said.

I heard the sound of what I hoped was Hermione covering whatever part of her she'd shown the foals. "What kind of mark is it?"

"It should be there! Well, before you covered it up. It appears on both sides and lets everypony know what your special talent is." Tourmaline this time.

"Wait," I said. "What about me? I don't have one, do I? Can I turn around?"

"You're a not-pony. Only ponies have cutie marks," Zircon said.

"You can turn around." Hermione's voice had a hint of relief.

Sounds were a bigger part of my life without my glasses to let me see, and I was finding these not-pony pony ears to be great for picking them out. "I don't know what the big deal is. It's not like I could see much anyway."

Hermione made a slightly strangled noise. "That doesn't matter, Harry." She took an audibly deep breath. "I wish this would just be over so I can help properly. Do—Do you think I should?"

"I don't think I'm the one you should be coming to for moral questions like that. Remember that I thought flying Ron's dad's car to school was a good idea." My eyesight might be bad, but I could see the smile my words had brought. It felt good to know I'd made Hermione smile—she was a good friend.

What Hermione was reaching for next was obvious. She drew her long slender wand out and looked over it. "A shield spell should do it. If you're feeling up to it, Harry, you could throw some spells at it."

"Hermione?" I asked. "I can't even see if you're trying to make an awesomely heroic face or a crazy one."

She barked a laugh and let out the rest of the breath she'd been holding. "Well now you ruined it, Harry." She sounded nervous. "Pro-tay-goh!" I felt the rush of magic as she built a shield.

The shield charm, being invisible, let in enough light that I could watch as Hermione's face changed—though I couldn't watch well. The change as the crystalline pattern crept up her neck and over her face was distinctive enough that I wanted to lean closer.

Though Hermione stuck her tongue out at me, leaning closer meant I got to watch her horn growing in, her ears flow up the side of her head and elongate, and her snout push out from her face. In short, Hermione Granger wound up with the head of a pony.

"Pro-tay-goh!" Hermione said, and again I felt a rush of magic, but this time it wasn't focused through her wand. "H-Harry! What did I just do? Do I have a horn? Why aren't I changing more?"

I listened to Hermione's words grow more and more panicked, though I had few answers. "Stop it, Hermione! You have a horn, but you don't seem to be changing anymore!"

"Is it the spell? Do I need to use different spells? Wing-gar-dee-um levi-o-sa!" She swung her wand with the kind of precision I could only wish for, but the magic Hermione used came from her horn, not her wand.

An empty bed on the other side of the room started floating upward, but Hermione didn't change anymore.

The bed clattered to the floor, and Hermione let out a shriek. "Why won't it finish? What's wrong with me?!"

Five little fuzzy bodies clambered around Hermione, and I figured I might as well make it six. "It's alright, Hermione."

"It's not bloody-well alright." There was no heat in Hermione's words.

I clung to her as much for myself as for Hermione. Somehow, I knew I was going to get the blame for this.

Minerva McGonagall found herself wishing that she had the supposed gifts of Sybill Trelawney. "Seeing the present clearly would be enough right now, though the future would be an advantage."

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Severus Snape, as always, didn't make a sound as he swept into McGonagall's office. Folding his arms over one another, he smoothed out his robe.

"I know we don't always see eye to eye, Severus, but I had hoped we could at least remain civil." Chastisement and offer both, Minerva had only had the job of headmistress of Hogwarts for three long days and she already felt the weight her old friend had bore. "If you please?"

Severus looked down his nose at Minerva. "Very well, Minerva, for the sake of the children. What do you need of me?"

"Severus, even Albus would think twice before speaking against me right now—but you never would."

Severus almost smiled. Almost. "If you're questioning my ability to twist the truth with honeyed words, I—"

"Oh no. I don't doubt you could have me questioning every word that came out of your mouth, but you don't do that, do you?"

"There's no point."

Minerva looked over the rim of her glasses at Severus. "I plan to cast a lot of spells. Enough that will turn me all the way into one of these creatures."

Severus took a breath before even thinking on the words. They had gravity, intent. He weighed the options and built a list of disadvantages and benefits. "The students will lose some faith in you. The staff will as well, unless you can make sure they understand why you're doing it. The advantage is that you will be able to cast spells again unfettered."

"Well?" Minerva was almost on the edge of her seat, at least by her standards. Outwardly, she showed every sign of being relaxed except that her tail kept sweeping back and forth behind her. It might be an equine tail, but old habits were hard to give up.

"What Hogwarts needs is a trained wizard or witch of high competence that can cast spells freely, who has no roles at this moment. Someone who is expendable."

"I don't like that word, Severus." Minerva reached up to adjust her glasses and look down at the staff list.

"That, Minerva, is why I am entertaining this problem at all." Almost-smiling again—Severus adjusted his robes and swished his arms around to their opposite sides. "You're in charge, Minerva, but we are hardly as rigid a command as the Ministry. You can but ask, and she can say yes or no."

"A witch?"

Severus Snape inclined his head only a fraction.

The choice, Minerva had to agree, was inspired. She left her office a moment after Severus did and started along the huge hallway for the teachers' lounge.

Castle Hogwarts seemed to sigh whenever Minerva walked around it. There was a sense of connection she felt with it, despite her not even residing in the headmaster's office. The castle knew who she was, and it respected her. Minerva, on the other hand, regretted her little deal with Albus.

Her talk with Severus had done two things: Minerva felt a newfound confidence in her abilities, and she loathed what she had to ask of an old friend. As she stepped into the staff room midway through second period, Minerva wasn't surprised to find just the witch she wanted to talk to.

Rolanda Hooch sat with a bag of brooms on either side of her. The old school brooms had seen better days (they'd seen better decades, too), but if it weren't for Rolanda's efforts they wouldn't be seeing any days anymore.

Examining the bristles of the broom in her hand, Rolanda turned it this way and that before carefully slipping a new twig into it from a pile beside her. "Good morning, headmistress." She waited a moment for Minerva's reply, but when it didn't come Rolanda looked up. "Something got your tail, Minny?"

Minerva McGonagall almost sat on the stack of enchanted twigs Rolanda Hooch had secured from Pomona Sprout. She flicked her tail to one side and back before setting her rump on the bench seat. Sitting for a moment to watch her friend work, Minerva felt she couldn't put it off any longer. "Rolanda, I have something extremely serious I need to ask you."

"This isn't about quidditch, is it?" Rolanda's hands finally stopped their work and slid the repaired broom into the right hand bag. "What's the matter?"

"Besides being in a world that has more magic than sense and a desire to see us all turned into little horses? Nothing. Life is peachy-keen." Few were the people Minerva McGonagall could completely relax in the presence of, but Rolanda Hooch was one such. "You understand I'm not trying to force you, or make you—"

"Minny, just spit it out. We're both too old for this kind of game."

"We need a witch or wizard who can freely cast magic without any reservations. I must ask—"

"Sure."

Minerva was afraid of this. "You haven't heard all of it. You haven't even heard half of it. This—"

"You were going to do it, weren't you?" Rolanda reached down to her right and pulled another broom out of the little bag there. This one wasn't missing any twigs—it had too many. It looked like some stray magic had asked the broom, like some kind of fairy godmother, what it wanted to do with the remainder of its life, and the broom had said, I want to be a tree again!. She reached for her secateurs and started trimming back the leaves and flower buds. "Cast spells until you become a little horse. Then you could cast all day long like Harry Potter. Oh, come on Minny, you're not the only witch who keeps her eyes and mind open.

"Of course I wasn't your first choice—you wanted to do this yourself, but someone talked you out of it. Keep listening to them, whoever they are. Just give me a minute to finish this broom and I can make a start on it. Do you know what spells will get it done quickest?"

"T-Transfiguration, oddly, doesn't seem to do it quickly at all. I believe it has to do with the magic potential expended." Minerva hated herself for how easy it had been to convince Rolanda, not that it had even taken any convincing. "Young Hermione Granger changed most of her legs with just one shield spell held against some brute-force magic."

"You know I'm not the most learned witch here." Rolanda trimmed off the last few buds of new growth and slid that broom into the bag beside her. "But even a passable witch like me would be better use than a second year boy and a new witch barely learning her first spells." At Minerva's look of shock, Rolanda rolled her eyes. "I actually listen to what people say, Minny."

Minerva was about to say something when Rolanda stood up and slung a bag of brooms on each shoulder.

"No time like the present, headmistress." Rolanda walked with a spring in her step—like she always did. It was a wonderful if chill day in the not-Scottish Highlands, and she was going to cast some magic. She dropped off the two bags in the storage room assigned to her class, and headed outside with Minerva trailing behind.

Without needing an incantation for such a spell, Rolanda drew her wand and sketched a complicated set of twirls in the air. She stepped forward onto nothing. It took Rolanda a moment to realize what had changed, but when she first felt her ears twitch and shift about, she worked it out.

An athlete so far as flight was concerned, Rolanda Hooch knew every bit of her body without exception. "Basic levitation spells don't seem to take too much work. What about something with a little more kick?"

All of the hover charms were Rolanda's bread and butter. She could cast any of them without words, but her favorite was the Rocket Charm. She only had to build the construct in her head and flick her wand for magic to scream and rush into the patterns.

Minerva watched her friend shoot into the air with a streaming silver pony tail trailing out from under her robes.

Rolanda felt alive. Magic in whatever world she'd landed herself in was more than just the tiny threads of power she normally had to coax to her bidding—this was like directing a river. The first Rocket Charm had resulted in an odd tingling in her legs.

As she reached the peak of her ballistic trajectory, Rolanda loosed another Rocket Charm and shot off almost horizontal to the ground. The tingling spread to her arms and shoulders as Rolanda sped around. Next was her head and face—which she quickly learned showed up as a brilliant blue snout in the middle of her vision.

Stopping only when her wand dropped from a hoof that could no longer hold it, she plunged back down to the ground and came to rest on the soft padding of her Hover Charm. Rolanda set four hooves down and squirmed in her robes. "Minny, can you help me out of these?" She was excited to get out of the clothes because she felt something on her back—new limbs—and she desperately wanted to see if they were what she thought they were.

"In public? What if the students see?!" Minerva looked around, fearful that a member of staff heard, let alone a student.

"You wanted me to turn myself into a horse, Minerva. It's not like horses have anything to—Got it!" Stepping back and out of her robes, Rolanda shucked off the rest of her clothes as well. "Minerva!"

"I see them!"

"Minerva, I've got wings!" Pure joy shot through Rolanda as she spread the new limbs. Without a thought she spread her wings and jumped upward with a great flap—and fell face-first into the ground when neither wing caught any air.

Bundling up the robes and clothing her old friend had tossed free, Minerva took a moment to admire Rolanda. Shimmering blue and crystalline, her gray mane and tail seemed twice as long as either needed to be, and yet it wasn't either of them currently getting in Rolanda's way. "Fold your wings up and come inside. Let Madam Pomfrey take a look at you."

Rolanda wasn't sure how any of her limbs should work, but her legs at least seemed fine for walking. Put one arm-leg forward and down, then repeat with the other, and let leg-legs follow. Only instead of just walking, Rolanda Hooch pranced. "Minerva, I've got wings! I can fly! Really fly!"

"Technically, you can fall. Flying will probably take a lot of work." Minerva McGonagall hurried along to the medical wing.

Fending off more exclamations of pure joy, Minerva was surprised to find Madam Pomfrey missing. A quick investigation revealed where she was—the ward—and what she was doing—fussing over a student who looked like she was made from pure crystal. "What happened here?"

"This young lady thought it a good idea to keep casting spells so she would change completely and not have to worry about changing any further." Madam Pomfrey lifted her head and turned to look at Minerva McGonagall, but her eyes stopped at the blue pony standing beside the headmistress. "Mr. Potter, you should probably seek quarantine—there is a terrible case of lunacy going around."

Author's Notes:

The Moon: How did you first meet Harry?

"Met him? Oh no, I haven't met him yet. Meeting a qilin is a special occasion, and doing so when it isn't lucky would be terrible. Simply terrible."

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It was like watching two lorries crashing in slow motion. Pomfrey and McGonagall stared at each other while everyone else kept quiet for fear of becoming a target to both of them. For probably the first time since starting at Hogwarts something wasn't my fault, and I wasn't about to put my hand up for the blame.

The pony—pegasus, really—that stood beside McGonagall hadn't been named yet, but like the foals I had an unmistakable sense of her gender. Since they looked like an adult, that had to narrow things down. It wouldn't be professor Sprout and it obviously wasn't McGonagall or Pomfrey, there was professor Vector, professor Trelawney, and Madam Hooch—that was all of them.

"Professor Hooch will need an examination at your earliest opportunity, Madam Pomfrey. Please make some time to see her when you are done with Miss Granger." McGonagall looked over at Hermione with an unreadable expression before she turned for the door and walked out.

"I can come back later if you're busy," Hooch said as she almost bounced from hoof to hoof. "It's just I need to go and practice flying."

She sounded more excited than I'd ever heard before. More excited than even the time Ron got her talking about her Silver Arrow broom. Every few moments she'd open a wing and look back at it, which only made her grin wider.

"Rolanda Hooch!" Madam Pomfrey's voice held more sharp command than I'd heard before in my life. Even Snape didn't sound this demanding. "You will stand still while I finish, you will not leave before I am done, and you will attempt to act your age!"

The last bit reminded all of us, I think, that Hooch wasn't actually a student that Pomfrey could order around, though Hooch didn't make a sound of complaint.

"Now, Hermione." Pomfrey turned back to Hermione. "I'd like to run more tests on you. As we have an example of a full transformation now, yours is quite intriguing as to why it stopped at this particular point. While I'd dearly like to know why, I'm more inclined to ensure your health than experiment. Relaxation?"

Relaxation (at least I figured it was Relaxation) appeared at Pomfrey's side. They didn't speak, merely looked up at Pomfrey.

"How long have you been working with me, Relaxation?" When the house-elf just shrugged, Pomfrey smiled. "You probably know all the spells I use at least as well as I do. Can you perform a Homonculo Revealio?"

Even at the distance I was away(about three feet), I could see Relaxation's eyes widen. "N-No, Madam Pomfrey. House-elves can't do wand magic."

Pomfrey gave Relaxation a much longer look—involving some eyebrow movement (I think it was her eyebrows). "Pity. Well, I guess it will have to wait, then. Let me have a look at you now, Professor Hooch."

I tried to tune out Pomfrey and focus on Hermione. "Are you alright?"

"Why didn't it work?" Hermione looked up from examining her arms. With her sleeves rolled up as they were, the yellow light of her crystalline body refracted any light that found it. "Why didn't I turn into a pony like you did?"

"Not a pony, remember? These little guys won't let me forget it, either." My comment got five nods from the assembled foals. "Hermione, look at what you've got, not what you're missing. You have a horn for doing magic, you seem to be able to use that magic without consequence"—I lifted one of my forehooves into the air—"and you still have hands."

In answer, Hermione lifted her wand up and twirled it in a circle with a careful flick at the start and end. "Loo-mos!" I felt the smallest wash of magic as she actually cast the spell, only it wasn't her wand that lit but her horn.

"See? You don't have to twirl your head around to make wand patterns, but you could." I struggled not to laugh when she went cross-eyed looking up at her horn's light.

"W-What happened?"

The voice caused everyone in the room to freeze. It wasn't Pomfrey or Hooch, and it wasn't Hermione, myself, or any of the foals—and no one had opened the door to enter.

Like my own ears, Hermione's had swiveled around to face the beds opposite but closer to the door. There was only two others in the room with us.

"Who are you? What are you? Are you in service to K-King Sombra?" One of the adult ponies was shifting on their bed and looking around at us.

I turned to look at Pomfrey, who seemed as calm and contained as ever.

"Mr. Potter? Please fetch the headmistress back here as quickly as you can while I see to our new guest." Madam Pomfrey stood up and walked over to the bed the unicorn was in. "Now, please be calm, dear, you've been through a—"

I missed the rest of what Pomfrey was saying. My ears were focused forward as I leapt from one bed to the next, bouncing my way to the end of the row and then onto the floor. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!" I focused my magic on the door handle, and had the door open just as I reached it. "Rest!"

"Why are you running? Madam Pomfrey will be upset," Rest said, apparating beside me.

"I need you to tell me where to find McGonagall. Pomfrey said I need to find her quickly." I knew I'd said the wrong thing the moment Rest smiled. I couldn't dodge fast enough as the house-elf reached one hand out and touched my back.

With an empty stomach, apparating was still horrible, it just wasn't lose your breakfast horrible, though my body wanted to get rid of everything it had, there just wasn't anything there.

"Mr. Potter! What's going on?" McGonagall sounded more surprised than angry, which meant I probably hadn't just appeared in a lavatory or the staff room. "What's the matter?"

Straining to hold back from dumping what little bit of mess my stomach was trying to put together, I looked up at McGonagall. "One of the ponies woke up. The unicorn." Looking around let me appreciate that my surroundings weren't anywhere near as bad as I'd feared—it was just a hallway.

"And you asked a house-elf to apparate you here despite your dislike for that mode of transport? Good work, Mr. Potter, five points to Gryffindor." McGonagall turned around with clopping sound and started walking back to the medical wing. At least I got something positive from my trip.

I turned and worked up my speed to keep pace with McGonagall. Once my legs were moving in a steady rhythm, actually keeping them moving was effortless. "Hermione seems stuck as she is."

"Is she now? I admit a certain amount of hope that more of us will end up that way rather than what happened to Professor Hooch." McGonagall glanced down at me. "I still profess curiosity as to what exactly you are, Harry."

"I'm sure if Hagrid were here, he'd know. He knows the names of all the animals. What do you think he's doing?"

McGonagall didn't say anything in reply for nearly the whole walk back. Just before reaching the still-open door of the ward, she stopped. "Rubeus Hagrid is, I hope, taking care of himself. We need to continue to do the same until he can rejoin us."

"It feels"—I gulped as we turned for the door—"Hogwarts feels like a family to me."

"For me as well, Harry. For me as well." McGonagall stepped into the ward and cleared her throat. "What seems to be going on? I understand one of our new friends is awake?"

The switch in tone made me falter, which gave McGonagall the chance to get a few paces ahead of me. Pomfrey was sitting on the edge of the bed while the unicorn was snapping their head around at McGonagall's entrance.

"You're not here from King Sombra, are you?" Real panic hung in the air on the tail of the unicorn's words.

"No." McGonagall stopped where she was and almost caused me to run into her legs. "Myself and Miss. Granger over there were responsible for removing that dreadful hel—"

"You took it off me?!" The unicorn jumped from the bed and scrambled over the next one to get away from McGonagall. "Y-You don't understand! He'll come after us!"

McGonagall stomped one foot—hoof—the sound of which drew every eye in the room to her. "I will not stand for a bully, and a tyrant is just a bigger bully. We have put in place a shield that is keeping him away, and we would dearly like to know more about this Sombra, so we can deal with him once and for all!"

The speech was surprising in how much it buoyed me up. I felt like I could do anything.

"So please, if I could ask for your name so we can first become friends."

The unicorn had stopped trying to get away and looked back at McGonagall—though with my eyesight I couldn't make out her features. "B-Blazing Sunshine. M-My name, that is."

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I'm headmistress of Hogwarts. You are safe within these walls, Blazing Sunshine." McGonagall reached a hand toward the pony and waited.

Blazing Sunshine took a few steps around the bed she'd tumbled over. She looked at McGonagall. "You're a headmistress? Of a school?"

"Of the best school." I couldn't stop myself, I had to defend Hogwarts.

"He really can't get in?"

"That's why he has all the ponies in helmets trying to blast the wards down," Hermione said. "And it's why we're trying to help you."

The pony walked closer to McGonagall and me. She looked terrified, but now she was closer I could see something in her eyes. Blazing Sunshine looked down from McGonagall to me. "You teach foals?"

"Older students too. Hogwarts' doors are open as a place of safety," McGonagall said.

"How do I know this isn't one of King Sombra's tricks?"

"Because King Sombra would never have taken those helmets off us." Everyone turned to look at the other pony we'd rescued. He was sitting up on his bed. "Which means these creatures are either brave or stupid, but they're nothing to do with that king." The pony almost spat the last word—his dislike of Sombra was palpable. "Anypony—anyone—against him is a friend of mine."

"This can't be happening." Draco Malfoy had said those words a lot since casting the spell against Harry Potter over breakfast. The entirety of Draco's life was collapsing, and it was all Harry's fault. Remembering back to that morning, Draco shuddered at the memory.

Storming out of the great hall, Draco was trying to think what felt so wrong. There'd been an all-over tingle when he'd cast the simple jinx. It should have stunned Harry, but when the other boy had literally eaten the spell, Draco turned and ran.

Down. Down was safety for all members of house Slytherin. The basement, and eventually the dungeon was Draco's target. He raced down the long stairs to the blank wall below and cleared his voice. Then Draco coughed. "Chosen one."

The wall started to tremble, then a single sinuous form defined itself and fell to the ground, only to slither aside. More and more snakes formed from the wall until an archway flanked by thousands of serpents was defined.

Draco marched on and ignored the opulently decorated room. He ignored all the couches, the green fires, and water lapping against the huge windows. Nothing mattered to Draco except for getting to his room and finding out what Harry had done to him.

Being a pure-blood, and having the father he had, Draco Malfoy had his own rooms within the Slytherin dungeon—plural. He locked the outer door and stomped through to his private bathroom.

Setting his wand down on the counter, Draco started off by removing his robe. The bulky garment hadn't been hiding anything since he was still wearing his blazer and a shirt under that. He also loosened his tie and lifted it over his head. His hands and neck showed no signs of any loss of humanity, though something did look a little off about the latter.

Teeth clamped together in a mixture of anger and fear, Draco Malfoy pulled his blazer over his head. There was still nothing that looked wrong to his eyes, though his hair being messed up annoyed him. "What happened?!"

With trembling fingers, Draco started with his cuffs and began unbuttoning his shirt. Once it was completely opened down the front, Draco closed his eyes and pulled his shirt off. Fearful of what he might see, Draco eventually opened one eye to see—the same supple and youthful body he'd always had.

Relief unlike any other flooded Draco to the point where he smiled genuinely. He was still a perfect pure-blood—the latest and (in his own mind) greatest scion of both the Black and Malfoy families.

"Not even Harry bloody Potter can besmirch my destiny!"

Wondering if the magic had protected him because he was so perfect, Draco made his way to the water closet and closed the door to take care of things.

It took nearly twenty seconds before Draco's scream echoed from the walls of her own private bathroom.

Draco spent nearly the full first period of the day trying to convince herself that this wasn't real and it wasn't happening to her. She was Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. She was not a girl. She had never been a girl and couldn't be a girl—that's not how this worked.

Draco waited until the end of the period before she realized this wasn't immediately temporary. Worry and panic now combined in her head to thrust out any thoughts of revenge. She had to hide this long enough for whatever it was to wear off or for the professors to fix it.

Shakily, Draco stood up and walked out of the water closet to her bathroom. A look in the mirror made her wince at first, but using every ounce of her determination she forced herself to look and take in her form. She wasn't much different to what he had looked like before. Draco Malfoy was a lithe and stringy girl of just twelve, and apart from what had given her away, she looked much as she always did except for one thing.

Her hand reached up to her throat and touched the flatness of her larynx where there should have been a slight bump.

Smiling for the first time all morning, Draco looked at her shirt and felt the first glimmer of hope. "I can do this. I can get this done, and no one will notice." Draco's eyes widened. With her thoughts focused on it, she could tell her voice was a little lighter, a little more—feminine.

Pants were the first thing to go on. Her shirt was next, and then her tie. That alone was enough to hide all trace of girl from Draco's visage. She pulled her blazer over her head and then pulled her robes on.

Now Draco could look in the mirror and not see herself, but the boy she should be. Her usual cocky sneer returned, and with the addition of some styling gel she got her hair back under control and in place.

Washing her hands, Draco turned and left her bathroom and located her books for second period, but when she left her suite with them, she found the common room buzzing.

"Draco!" Gemma Farley wasn't a stupid witch—such would be impossible as a prefect of Slytherin. Keeping the son of Lucius Malfoy from getting into the worst of trouble was a not-insignificant part of her school life, but it was one that would see her go far once she graduated. "You missed first period."

All that ran through Draco's head was that Gemma's piercing gray eyes would see through her disguise. She froze in place as the older girl marched up to her. "I-I-I—"

"I don't care what excuse you have, Draco, remember? I made you and your father a promise, and I intend to keep it. Now get to your Potions class, and suck up to Snape a bit." Gemma noticed right away that something was off. "What's the matter, Draco?"

The sound of real concern in Gemma's voice failed to shock Draco out of her fear. She knew, Draco thought.

"Look, if it's a boy thing, just relax. It happens to every guy about this time in their life. I'll cover for you, Draco, and not just because your dad's going to reward you. You deserve it. I've seen your test scores, you're damn good—prefect good—but you need to keep working at it."

Draco was doubly surprised. Her disguise was working and Gemma was complimenting her for her work. She took a deep breath and let it out. It wasn't often that she encountered someone who liked her despite her father, though a little voice kept saying she was in her father's pocket and she was a Slytherin. Pride, however, is a powerful force. "Thank you, Gemma."

"I'll fill Snape in. I don't know, maybe something about you wanting to study extra for his class so you skipped Sprout's."

"Draco!" Vincent Crabbe rushed over to Draco. "I—"

A horrible stench hit Draco's nose, and it was all she could do not to gag. "Go and wash your mouth out, Crabbe, it smells like something died in there."

Gregory Goyle rolled his eyes when Vincent stood there staring at Draco in shock. "He's right. You reek, Crabbe."

"Those bloody Gryffindors and their—"

"Go and wash your mouth with something!" Draco had no qualms cutting Vincent off. She turned to look at Gemma one more time. "Thanks again."

When Gregory and Draco walked out of the Slytherin common room sans Vincent, Gregory turned to his friend. "What you thanking her for?"

"Because she's not stupid enough to enter an eating contest with a queasy stomach, and she stuck her neck out for me. I didn't see you trying to stop Potter in the great hall." Draco put as much sting in her words as she could.

Being a girl didn't matter—not until it could be fixed. Look at Gemma Farley, Draco thought, She isn't just going to graduate as one of the top of all her classes, she was securing her future with strong connections to powerful families. An inspiration to any Slytherin or even any wizard.

"Well, I had to get Crabbe out of there." Gregory balled his hands into fists at the implication that he hadn't done what he could. "Why did you run? Everyone's talkin' about it."

Only Draco's Gemma-fueled bluster saved her. "I cast a spell you nit-wit. Mustn't have been big enough to affect me, though. Probably only a mudblood thing that causes that change." If Draco repeated that enough in her head, she almost believed it. Almost.

The only reason Draco had lasted the whole day was the confidence that Gemma had bestowed upon her. Every sneer, every barbed comment, was a testament to the belief that Gemma had in Draco. She had to get through this.

Waking up, Draco hoped that everything had been a bad dream and she wasn't still a girl. Dealing with magic on a daily basis meant a certain amount of strangeness had to be taken as a given, and Draco had been neck deep in it since she could walk. But she was definitely still a she.

"Okay, this needs to be fixed, and I can't trust those bumbling idiots to do it." Draco got out of bed and showered as best she could.

Clean and dressed, she made her way out into the common room for morning briefing.

Spotting a seat on one of the couches, Draco made to sit down when she heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, she saw Gemma giving her a direct and piercing look.

Draco hated that she wanted to go over and sit beside Gemma mostly because it implied that Gemma was making Draco's decisions for her. But there was still the fact that Gemma was supporting Draco, and the kind of support a seventh-year student could give was leagues above what Vincent and Gregory could offer.

So walking over, Draco let go of any feeling that she was abandoning her two friends, and sat down beside Gemma. "You wanted to talk?"

"What's he doin' here, Farley? He's not a prefect," Terence Higgs said.

Draco's head snapped to Terence. The boy was in the quidditch team—as backup seeker—and had already shown plenty of annoyance at having Draco made seeker above him. Not that Draco cared what he thought, but he was a seventh year student too.

"Shut up, Higgs. I called him over." Gemma rolled her eyes at Terence and turned her attention to Draco. "Ignore him, he's an idiot who cares more for quidditch than his own standing. How he even wound up in Slytherin—let alone a prefect—I don't know."

"I heard that!" Terence said.

Turning to look at the older (and bigger) boy, Gemma raised one eyebrow. "I intended you to, you oaf, however I seem to have made a blunder. I thought"—Gemma lifted her voice a little more—"that you'd have the intelligence to stew about it in silence."

Draco hadn't had much to do with the upper echelon of Slytherin house, but she found herself liking the game Gemma played more and more. "Why do you even waste your breath on him?"

Gemma loved an opening, and she pounced on the one Draco gave her. "I find myself wondering that too. Sometimes I wonder if that damned hat likes to put a Hufflepuff in Slytherin just for a laugh."

"Maybe it does. Maybe it—" Draco didn't get any further because Terence tried to take a swing at Gemma.

Lucian Bole wasn't known as being a calm boy. He had shoulders and arms on him, in his fifth year, that would put a graduate to shame. He caught the punch before it connected with Gemma. That she'd asked him to be here for this moment only made it better. "You weren't about to hit a girl were you, prefect?"

Feeling his fist being crushed in the meaty hand of the Slytherin quidditch team's top beater, Terence tried to pull back—and utterly failed. "L-Let go!"

"Lucian, let go of Terence's hand, I think he has learned a valuable lesson." Gemma tilted her head just enough to wink at Draco. "You don't make threats you cannot back up."

Terence jumped to his feet and stormed off toward the prefect rooms.

Gemma Farley smiled at the turn of her fortune for the morning. "I'd been trying to goad that idiot into that for two days now. Thank you, Draco." She flashed her smile to Draco and saw dawning realization on her ward's face. "And thank you, too, Lucian. I'm sure my report to Professor Snape will include a suggestion for who I think is likely the best replacement for poor Terence."

Lucian strained to pull his face into a smile. His eyes, sunk back from his brow enough to be called piggy, gleamed. "Anything for a lady." He bowed a little, and wandered off to sit with the waiting Slytherin house members.

Clearing her throat, Gemma stood up. She scanned the faces and features of the assembled students and sighed. "I see a lot of you sporting signs of magic use." She waited while there were almost a dozen students shifting in their seats and muttering excuses. "Relax. Reaching for power and paying a price for it is a fact of life. I'm not going to issue detentions or subtract points from you, Slytherins, for wanting more."

Draco was stunned at the way Gemma played the crowd. She'd watched the prefects give their briefings before, but there was a big difference between sitting in a crowd being manipulated and watching someone manipulate a crowd.

"You've all had some fun with it—I hope—because from now on I will be giving out detention to any Slytherin I catch with more than their already visible changes, unless you have a good reason for it." Gemma smiled warmly, like a snake watching its babies hatch. "We'll all wear hats to breakfast. I want to see no ears visible. Slytherin house will sustain through this mess with its honor intact."

That said, Gemma Farley plucked her own hat from beside her and placed it on her head. "Dismissed."

Looking up at Gemma, Draco noticed something. "If their ears aren't visible under the hat, it will be obvious they have horse ears."

"Of course. Which is why I'm going to get a scarf to cover mine, then reveal them to be there toward the end of breakfast. Do the same, Draco." Gemma left Draco sitting in the common room and headed to her own private bedroom.

When Draco's heart slowed down from the rush it had been working at, she jumped to her feet and hurried to her rooms. She had several hats, and chose a squat and brimmed model that she liked the look of, then grabbed a scarf to wrap around her neck high enough to cover her ears. "This is ridiculous."

Though she thought it was crazy, Draco Malfoy still did what Gemma Farley said because it made sense. Checking the mirror one last time, Draco looked for any trace of the girl under all that clothing. "They won't be able to tell."

"Tell what?" Gemma asked from Draco's doorway.

Draco's face, somehow, turned whiter than usual. She'd forgotten to lock her door in her haste. "Nothing."

"We both know that's a lie, Draco. Tell me what happened." Gemma locked the door behind her and walked up and put herself squarely between Draco and the doorway. When Draco didn't immediately answer, she opened her mouth. "Deten—"

"I did change." It wasn't the fear of detention that scared Draco into speaking, it was fear of what Gemma would organize to really punish her. "I—" But the words were impossible to say. It was like admitting them made it more real.

"It's bad?"

Draco bit back a yes. She scrunched her eyes closed. "I turned into a girl."

Gemma was positive Draco wasn't lying. This wasn't the kind of face she judged would ever lie. She reached out and removed the scarf and hat, but couldn't see any hint of femininity. There was one thing she knew would give Draco away.

Standing still as a post, Draco let Gemma loosen her tie and undo the top button of her collar.

"It's true. I needed to see." Gemma fastened the button and absently straightened Draco's tie. "Not a word of this, and don't use more magic. This will be the easiest one to hide if you keep your cool. Draco?"

Her name snapped Draco out of the second state of shock she'd felt in two days. She looked up at Gemma. "What?"

"No detention. Come on." Gemma turned and walked for the door, leaving Draco to stare in utter disbelief at the black hair that trailed down her back.

Breakfast was a relief for Draco rather than another terrifying social encounter. Vincent and Gregory sat on one side of Draco while she had Gemma on the other. Draco had to get her head around the situation, but after nearly ten minutes she still couldn't process every step of the situation Gemma had engineered.

Finally, Draco had to admit that she just needed to ask. "Why'd you do it?"

"Terence?" Gemma waited for Draco's nod. She hadn't intended to tutor Draco Malfoy, but with the possibility of another year at Hogwarts, ingratiating herself more to him (or her) didn't seem like a bad idea. "No one knows what's happening with our N.E.W.T.s. I've asked Snape, and he looked at me like I'd said something distasteful. You know they're administered by the Ministry? Well, if the Ministry can't get to us, we can't sit them.

"That means there is three outcomes to all this. The first is that when everything is sorted out, we go to the Ministry and they give us our N.E.W.T.s. That would be the best solution. Second best is that we have to come back to Hogwarts at the start of the next school year to complete them. The last is that we have to sit through an entire school year here before studying them with the sixth year students next year.

"I am making plans for the last eventuality. If I have to put up with another year here, I am going to make the best of it, and that means I have control of house Slytherin, if not making Head Girl." Gemma reached up and brushed at the hair at the side of her head, dislodging her scarf. She didn't deign to notice the pairs of eyes belonging to students of other houses as she showed off her human ears.

Draco was processing the layered plan Gemma had built. "So hope for the best and plan—"

"To make the best of the worst. I'd hoped to be done with Hogwarts and be out making more serious moves in the world, but if I have to be here I will surround myself with a particular quality of people." Gemma looked across and down the table to Lucian. "He's a thug. He's ambitious, and knows that at worst I'll only be around for another year. Don't take Lucien for granted, Draco, he plays the game to his strengths."

"You're using him." Saying it meant that Draco had to face the fact that she was being used by Gemma too, but she could also claim to be using Gemma. The second fact salved her pride a little.

"I use everybody, Draco, it's a good habit to get into. Evaluate people for what they can do for you, calculate what they want from you, and use one to get the other. It lets you know who is worth being friends with." Gemma finished her bowl of porridge and reached for her juice. "What do you think I can do for you, and what would you allow yourself to do for me?"

The questions threw Draco at first. She tried to think of what Gemma would want—what this monster of a girl would need from Draco Malfoy. "You want connections. My father gives you that—"

"I already have a deal with your father, as you know, and we both give and take as part of that deal. I want to know what you can offer, Draco."

"I'm already in your pocket, not just from my father's deal but also because of—because of earlier. You have blackmail on me, you have a solid deal with my family. You can trust that I'll act in your best interests." The words came to Draco as if her father had said them. They seemed to go together well. "I am an extra pair of eyes, ears, and a mouth. You used me earlier to provoke Terence, so you're already using me for that, but I could do more willingly."

"There is a brain in there. Just so we understand each other, what you told me before isn't even on the table as bargaining power because of my deal with your father. So, what do I have that you want?" Gemma was prepared for just about anything.

"Cunning, knowledge—You're better at this than me." Draco's ambition stole every weapon his ego and pride possessed and held them hostage while it did what it wanted. "You can teach me how to manipulate and plan."

"So we both have something the other wants. This is the basis for trust, Draco, but trust is a scale." Gemma sipped at her juice. "Take your scarf off next. Make it an accident."

"Why are we doing this?"

"Do it and I'll tell you."

Turning to Vincent at her side, Draco elbowed her friend. "I want you to shove me. when I shove back, pull my scarf off."

Vincent Crabbe wasn't the smartest of students, but he could follow orders. He turned back to his food and then reached an elbow out. With the joy that only comes of hurting someone who had already hurt him, Vincent shoved his elbow into Draco's side.

"Careful, you oaf!" Draco lifted her elbow and shoved Vincent back, only for the bigger boy to grab her scarf and pull it free. "Now look what you've done!"

"You started it!" Vincent stood up and glared down at Draco. Somewhere along the line, the simply mummery had turned into an actual confrontation.

Incensed and full of the confidence her newest teacher had given her, Draco stood up and glared at Vincent. "Just sit back down you oaf. We'll discuss this later."

Waiting for everything to calm down, Gemma asked, "What are you giving him?"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"He jumps to your commands, he does whatever you want at the cost of his own dignity. What are you giving him in return?" When Draco didn't answer, Gemma continued. "So how much trust should you have in him?"

"So he needs to—"

"No, Draco. You need to find what he wants and make sure he knows it is you giving it to him. What does Vincent Crabbe desire?" Finishing off her juice, Gemma looked around at the Slytherin students she knew had pony ears. They all looked back at her with appreciative smiles.

"He likes power, but who doesn't. He loves food." Draco looked at the piles of food arrayed before them. "Is it really that easy?"

"If you feed his desires, Draco, you will have the most loyal hound you've ever known. Just be sure to check back from time to time—people's tastes change as time goes on." Carefully, Gemma wrapped her scarf around her neck again such that it covered her ears. "Take a few sweet things, go on, and when it gets to just before last period, share them with him. Make sure to pick an odd number such that you are left with one at the end—give the last to him."

Defense Against the Dark Arts class had been a snooze-fest, as had all the rest—since they couldn't use magic. Draco practically staggered out of Arithmancy (the only class that never taught magic anyway) and made her way into the corridor outside.

As always, Vincent and Gregory followed Draco. Each moved to flank their ringleader.

"Why don't you go on ahead, Goyle." Draco watched each of the Hufflepuff students leave the class (Arithmancy was shared with them). "I've got some special assignments for each of you." She then looked at Vincent.

"O-Okay," Gregory said and walked away feeling a little lost.

Reaching into her pocket, Draco lifted out one of the mini strawberry tarts that she'd grabbed from the breakfast table and wrapped in wax paper. Lifting it up to her lips, she took a small bite out of it. "Here."

Vincent Crabbe had never had this happen before. Draco Malfoy had just passed him a tart from breakfast—one of the good ones. "What's this about?"

"I was hungry, and I can't eat all of them, but didn't want to share with Goyle." Draco took another, bigger bite of her own tart. From the looks she saw on Vincent's face, she'd found a way to buy his loyalty for literally nothing.

"Fankf," Vincent said while stuffing his mouth.

Munching on her own treat, Draco tasted more than the strawberry and sugar confection. What Gemma had told her to do worked. A shiver of excitement ran through Draco at this realization. She gulped down her mouthful and popped the rest of the tart in her mouth.

With all his focus on eating the treat, Vincent reached the end of it far too fast for his liking. He let out a little sigh as he realized Draco was already done.

Lifting out the last of the tarts, Draco held it up to her lips and was about to take a bite. "Vincent, I don't think I can have another." The look in Vincent Crabbe's eyes as Draco handed him the last tart was perfect. "All yours. I don't think we need to tell Gregory about this, do we?"

Vincent shook his head quickly, already having stuffed half the sticky treat in his mouth.

With the school day complete, Draco Malfoy relaxed in the common room sitting on Gemma Farley's left side while Lucien Bole sat on her right. She felt a buzz going through those present. Draco's presence at Gemma's side spoke of support of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Draco knew Gemma's pedigree was almost as pure as the Black family's, but the difference was a slew of ancestors who wanted nothing to do with society. They had nonetheless bred a pure-blood heiress that was as hungry for power as Draco was herself.

The show of power in knocking Terence from his seat as prefect (Gemma's letter to Snape had been most effective, particularly with half the house watching) combined with every single Slytherin with a pony mutation feeling a strong bond of fealty to her, fed Gemma's desires in a way that nothing else ever would. She wasn't just in control, everyone wanted her in control and had a vested interest in keeping her in control.

"How's Mr. Crabbe doing, Draco?"

Gemma's voice reminded Draco how effective the ruse had been. "I could have asked him to stab himself and he would have."

"So now you need to tighten the bonds on your other friend. What does Mr. Gregory Goyle want most in life?" Gemma looked at the boy in question. She'd seen the type before—not as much raw brawn as Lucien, but probably more intelligence—and it was a tricky one to figure.

"Beating on people." Draco's eyes were on her friend. "Goyle likes breaking people and watching them try to squirm away. We'll need a target to let him have some fun."

"No, you need more than that. You need to hand him a target and a reason on a silver platter so that he knows it is a gift from you. This might hurt, Draco." Her mind ticking over already, Gemma had a plan building. "I'd suggest you do something to antagonize an older boy, perhaps a Ravenclaw, make sure Gregory Goyle is the only one who can help you."

"But wouldn't that be him doing me a favor?" Draco asked.

"Not when you take the fall for him. Let him go to town on the poor idiot. Help him if he looks like he needs it, but when it comes time for the prefects to break it up, you take it all. If there's detention, you take it. If there's other punishment, you take it. You give Gregory Goyle the gift of a free lunch."

Draco's mind raced with the logistics. A fight was easy, lots of students wanted to find Draco Malfoy alone and mouthing off, but making sure Gregory was nearby, and making sure no one else came until the right moment would be difficult.

"Magic will be the best way. I'll have someone cloak you three at the right moment to keep anyone from watching."

Gemma's words stunned Draco. "What? How will you get someone to voluntari—" She stopped. It was obvious. "I'll owe you for that."

"You're learning very quickly, Draco. There's hope for you yet." In the back of her mind, Gemma wondered if Draco's current state had anything to do with more cunning and higher intelligence. A little scare and a shake up seemed to have done the Malfoy heir a lot of good in her estimation.

"Hey Marcus? Marcus Belby?"

Marcus had been on his way from the Ravenclaw tower to class when he'd forgotten his quills. He'd run back to get them only to find Draco Malfoy waiting for him just down the hall from the tower's entrance. "What are you doing lurking around here, Malfoy? Don't you have class or a rock to crawl under?"

"Took you a while to think of that one?" Draco had been careful in who she'd asked Gemma to invite to help. "I was actually waiting for Helena."

Unable to stop his face from dropping, Marcus stared at Draco. "Chose your words carefully, Malfoy."

"Well, I heard you had a little crush on her, and I thought to myself, Draco, what's a girl from a good, pure-blood family like Helena Fowley want with a filthy little half-bl—" Draco turned her face to the side to catch the punch on the cheek rather than her nose. It snapped her head around, and she was seeing stars, but she managed to hold on to consciousness. "Helena?"

Helena Fowley held no reservations. She wasn't doing as well socially in Slytherin as she would have liked, and being in Draco Malfoy and Gemma Farley's good graces was worth a little sacrifice. She'd been walking with Gregory Goyle when she heard her name called by Draco.

Running around the corner, Helena spotted Draco just as Marcus Belby's fist made contact for the second time, sinking itself into Draco's belly and doubling them over. "Draco!" That was half of what she'd been asked to do—the easy part. Putting a lilt of longing in her voice had been simple.

"What're you doin'?!" Gregory stomped forward and grabbed Marcus by the collar just as his foot connected with Draco on the floor. Marcus was from a year higher than Gregory, but the weedy older boy didn't stand a chance as one big meaty fist slammed into his jaw. "You think you can jus' do that to a Slytherin'? Do ya?" Another punch. "Well?!"

Helena rushed to Draco's side and drew her wand. The Disillusionment Charm had no vocal component to it, but Helena was not worried about that. She practically danced over to Gregory Goyle and tapped him on the shoulder with her wand. A shiver ran through her. The charm was not insignificant for a fourth year to cast, and she felt pressure grow at her lower back.

Nursing her cheek, Draco watched Helena Fowley's robes billow behind her and a bright green tail swish around the floor. Gregory faded from sight as Marcus fell down.

The rush of power, of just letting go and doing what he wanted, elated Gregory Goyle. He completely ignored the magic use—his own being shrouded—and focused on beating Marcus to a pulp.

"What are you doing?!"

The cry from the direction of Ravenclaw tower was Draco's sign. She rushed over and pushed at the shimmering—almost visible form of Gregory. "Goyle. Leave off. I've got this."

Gregory kicked one more time before looking at Draco. "Why? He 'it you."

"I'm covered in bruises, you don't have a mark on you. If they catch you, you'll get expelled." Draco gave Gregory another nudge. "Helena's got you covered. Get out of here."

Not the smartest tool in the shed, Gregory Goyle looked back at Helena, then back down to Marcus. Turning, he ran.

With Gregory around the corner and away from the scene, Helena could let go of the spell. She could feel the tail tickling down her legs—it would match the ears atop her head. "Why'd you do that, Marcus?!" Her cry was for whoever the Ravenclaw was who had called out.

Draco sat in the second ward of the hospital wing. On the bed down from hers was Helena, and at the other end of the hall was Marcus.

Filius Flitwick was talking with Marcus, while Severus Snape stood beside Draco's bed. Despite the conditions, Draco had managed to keep from revealing her altered nature, though Helena hadn't been so lucky.

"Why on earth did you start a fight with that useless waste of space?" Severus Snape asked. "I thought you were better than this, Mr. Malfoy."

"I had my reasons." Draco's eyes flicked to the side—to Helena. She got a nod from the other girl.

"This kind of beating would normally result in expulsion," Severus said. "However—since there is a witness to say he threw the first punch, and since Marcus said as much himself, you are being let off with a warning."

The sound of clopping hooves outside the ward stole everyone's attention for a moment. Even Severus turned to look in the direction of the door.

"Take Miss Fowley back to the Slytherin dungeon." Severus started to turn, considering the situation already dealt with. He was certain there was more to this than what he'd seen, which made him proud of his students. Whatever gambit they were working, Draco's smile told Severus that it had worked. "And tell Miss Farley that the headmistress agreed with her estimations."

Draco bobbed her head and looked to Helena. "Here." She passed the older girl the wide-brimmed hat. "You'll need this more than me." The returned look of surprise and thanks fed into Draco's newfound goals. "Can you help me up?" Favors for favors. Binding people to her. Draco could almost forget what Harry Potter had done to her.

Author's Notes:

Headmistress McGonagall: Should there not be a telescope in the astronomy tower? Maybe it could help to see what is around.

Minerva's face shifted to the careful neutrality she always maintained when teaching. "The thought had already ocured to me. I admit I was excited to study an entirely new firmament. Alas, Albus' wards render the stars invisible—particularly at night where the slightest light will mute the heavens. This has also resulted in canceling Astronomy class—which was one of the few we could have still run without using spells."

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Lab

All You Need Is Magic

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McGonagall led the two adult ponies away and left me standing in the middle of the room and watching them leave.

"I can't believe I have wings!"

When I turned around, Hooch had a hoof over her mouth that did nothing to hide her huge grin. "You've been on a broom before, how—"

"That's completely different." Hooch lowered her hoof down and walked to the windows and opened one. "Having wings and flying—without magic or devices—has been a dream I've had since I was a little girl. I don't care about the rest of the changes, just having wings makes this worth it!"

"Can you still cast magic?" Hermione asked.

All eyes focused on Hooch who looked—for the first time since I'd seen her as a horse—worried. Worried, for a pony, was a lot easier to see than on a human. Ears tucked back and they kinda hunch their neck a little. All much easier to see than facial expressions.

"W-Where's my wand?" Hooch ran down the beds until she reached the pile of things McGonagall had dropped off with her initially. Rearing up, Hooch tried to rifle through her things.

"You'll need a spell to—" I said.

"Let me help." Hermione walked over to Hooch beside me.

While Hermione started sorting through Hooch's clothing with her hands, I jumped up on the bed with one huge shove of my back legs. Landing on the bed, I walked over just as Hermione found Hooch's wand.

"Harry, I now see what you mean." Hermione held out Hooch's wand handle first to her.

"I've seen you hold things with your hoof, Harry, how is it done?" Hooch asked.

In answer I held up my right hoof. "Split hooves. I can grab things between the toes."

"You can still hold it!" Tourmaline bounced and jumped up onto the bed beside me. "Even with pony hooves. You just—just pick it up like this."

Tourmaline reached out for the wand, but Hermione lifted it away before she could reach it. The little filly sat up and glared at Hermione. "I was trying to show them how to hold it!"

"They're dangerous!" Hermione set her hands on her hips.

Tourmaline frowned up at Hermione. "I'm reprehensible!"

"Responsible," I said. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!"

I didn't have a clear target, but I focused my will on the ballpoint pen that was sequestered between the pages of Ginny's book. My spell-casting had been plenty of interruption to keep both Tourmaline and Hermione from arguing further.

Once the pen reached us (still carrying Ginny's diary), I used one hoof to free the diary from it and set the pen before Tourmaline. "There. Show her with that."

Reaching out with her hoof, Tourmaline plucked the pen from my magical grip. "There!"

Something tingled at my magical senses.

"Harry, can you stop your Locomotion Charm?" Hermione asked. When I did so, she pointed a crystalline finger at Tourmaline's hoof. "You're using magic!"

"I am?" Looking at her hoof, Tourmaline rotated it around to show us how the pen just stuck to it. "I'm just holding it. No magic needed."

"There is magic there. I can feel it too," Hermione said.

Hooch cleared her throat. "May I try?" Her question dripped in sarcasm the likes of which I wished I could use without getting yelled at. When Hermione quickly set Hooch's wand on the bed nearest to Hooch, Hooch smiled. "Thank you, Miss Granger." Reaching up to the wand with her hoof, Hooch completely failed to pick it up.

"You just need to do this." Tourmaline tossed the pen from one hoof to the other while she sat back on her haunches. "Like this."

"This might take some practice. Okay, forget that for now." Hooch leaned down and picked up her wand in her mouth. I thought about making a stupid comment about her not being able to say the spell words, but being as she looked like a pony I'd forgotten she was also an adult witch and a teacher. Power surged down Hooch's wand and a moment later she got just a little taller.

I rushed to the edge of the bed and looked over to see that her hooves were floating off the floor.

"I can manage." At least that's what I thought Hooch said. It sounded more like, "Are car margag."

Tourmaline bounced on the bed a few times in excitement. "I've never seen a pegasus do magic before. Can anypony do magic with one of those sticks?"

"They're called wands, and you'd have to ask Headmistress McGonagall if you can have one to practice with. If you can use magic in your hoof, there's no reason you can't use a wand." Hermione had her air of superior knowledge about her. Something had happened that put her at ease, and I can bet what it was.

Ron felt the same way, they just weren't themselves without magic.

"I'm going to learn magic!" Tourmaline started bouncing on the bed, then launched herself onto the floor to pronk around Hooch and then Hermione, chanting "I'm going to learn magic!" with each bounce.

"I'm glad I don't have to make that call." Hooch said, roughly translated from wand-in-mouth.

"You two," Pomfrey said as she walked into the room. "Off to lunch in the hall. Madam Hooch, please stop your spells and follow me."

"What about us?" Zircon asked.

"We need some time to make up all the beds. Run along with Harry and Hermione to have lunch, then return back after." Pomfrey sounded like she was already at the end of a long day. "Between everyone breaking out in either a case of pony, stupidity, both, or picking stupid fights over a girl, I am at my wit's end!"

Despite my curiosity about who was fighting over a girl, I was not stupid enough to challenge Pomfrey's temper. "Okay, thanks Madam Pomfrey." I turned to look at the foals, but they were already forming up to follow. "Come on!"

Never in my life had I had a gang following me (Ron and Hermione don't count), not chasing, following. I know I was lifting my hooves a little more than normal when I walked past Pomfrey with five foals behind me, and I didn't dare look up at her face for fear of what might be on it.

Hermione's hooves clattered behind me and a moment later she was walking beside me in the huge hallway. "I look ridiculous."

I looked up at Hermione. She had just pulled her robes back on and was straightening them, but she looked no more or less ridiculous than any other student at Hogwarts. She lacked her hat, which meant her horn and ears were prominent—as was the fact that her whole body was made out of crystal. "A little, but that's mostly the uniform."

It was impossible for me to tell if her snout had formed into pout or a smile, but I hoped for the latter. "I guess the advantage is I can still wear clothes. Don't you get—I don't know—breezy?"

"You've got fur now. Doesn't it feel strange to wear stuff over it?" I asked.

While I spoke, Tourmaline had trotted up beside me and made a show of prancing. I was about to ask her why she was doing it when I saw Ginny's diary on her back complete with the pen folded inside it.

"Well, a little. But it would be worse to not wear them. That'd be unthinkable!"

After being with Hermione for two school years, I was used to her oblivious words, but it did make me think. Was I being abhorrent by not wearing clothes? Hooch hadn't seemed to care either. Was there something about being a pony that made clothes seem unneeded? "I guess I don't think about it, so it is unthinkable."

Hermione snorted. "That's not what I—"

The rest of her words were drowned out by the sound of a great hall full of students all talking (and very little food being consumed). The sound stopped, however, as people saw Hermione, the foals, and me.

"Over here, Harry Potter." Addera's voice and the unmistakable sight of her mirror glasses helped me work out which direction they were. As we neared her, I realized Ron was sitting beside her, and Neville was opposite them.

Trotting up, I made for the seat beside Addera only for Hermione to beat me to it. Swapping over, I dove under the table and came up beside Neville. "Hi Neville. Hope you don't mind, we brought—"

"She's so pretty." Neville's words cut me off. I looked up at him, then traced his eyes to see him staring at Hermione (who I didn't need to see well to know was blushing).

Despite my desire to see Hermione squirm a little more (after the comment about clothing), I figured it'd be better for everyone if I changed the topic. "Hey Neville, have you seen our new friends?"

"They're little horses?" Neville asked.

"Ponies!" Zircon said.

"Yeah! We're little ponies!" Tourmaline said to reinforce the message.

Lunch was sandwiches. I focused my attention on one of the plates. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!" I directed a charge of magic through my horn and into the plate. Rather than the usual easy lifting, the plate seemed massively heavy and I forced a lot more magic into the spell to compensate.

"Wait!" Ron reached an arm across the table to grab the plate. "Those're the ones with meat. You want the leaf pattern plates." He held out another plate.

I leaned a little further forward and saw the bone pattern on the first one I'd grabbed. "Thanks, Ron. Loh-koh-mot-tor!" Another rush, another shove of extra magic and I pulled the plate over to me and the foals. Another Locomotion Charm and I lifted a sandwich off the platter and to me. I didn't even realize that people were staring at me until I was halfway through the mouthful.

The sound of the room slowly went back up. I finished my mouthful and leaned across to Neville. "What's going on?"

"You cast a spell. Look at the Slytherins—Everyone's trying to hide that they've cast one or two, but it's like Slytherin are working together," Neville said. "Do you suppose my gran would be able to send a message here?"

I scoffed. The change in topic was welcome, as was the information. "And get through Dumbledore's wards? No chance. Though, if anyone could, your gran would probably be the one. I remember that howler…" I took another bite of the sandwich in my grip.

Neville visibly shivered. "That was horrible. I never want another of those, but—but I think there's probably a bunch of nasty letters piling up."

"A good reason to brush up on your fire spells, Neville." The sandwich was a good find—salad and egg. "That way"—I gulped down another mouthful—"you can burn them all before they reach you."

It took a few seconds for Neville to start chuckling, but the grin on his face was worth telling a stupid joke to see. It felt good to see all my friends happy, despite some of them being a lot more equine than this time last week.

"These're really tasty!" Tourmaline said.

More appreciative sounds followed Tourmaline's exclamation. I had to admit, the food in Hogwarts was always really good. And just like that a new worry assaulted me. "How much food do they keep here at Hogwarts?"

"Food charms. Multiplying it, stopping it from going bad. Hogwarts doesn't really need food so long as we have magic. I-I mean normally. I don't really know who would be casting the spells at the moment." Neville gestured to a plate appearing out of nowhere. "See, they'll have made just one or two sandwiches then copied them out to fill each plate, then copied the plates."

"Rest?" I asked. I repeated the name twice more before the house-elf appeared sitting on the bench beside me. "Rest, who's casting the spells to make all the food?"

Rest just shrugged and then disappeared again.

"Was that a house-elf, Potter?" Draco's voice was unmistakable more by its pronunciation than tone. "I should have known you'd make friends with lesser creatures once you became one."

I turned around on the bench, ready to hurl an insult back at Draco, when I saw he was literally flanked by older students, both of which I could make out as wearing prefect pins. My insults died in my throat—they could penalize all of Gryffindor for something I might say.

"Now now, Draco, what did I say about insulting?" the girl asked.

The girl's tone felt like treacle. She had a slight smile that almost seemed nice.

"Sorry, Prefect. I shouldn't lower myself to the standards of half-bloods." Draco sounded as pleased with himself as Draco could get.

Then something hit me like a hammer—Draco said sorry. That he would apologize to anyone without threats of being expelled was a shock.

"There. See how much easier it is to raise yourself above them? How much better it feels?" Gemma was just a blur, but she sounded worse than Draco ever had. She was using her words to be as hurtful as she could. "Sorry, Harry Potter. I'll try to keep everyone of substance from bothering you ever again so you can continue your happy little life."

I felt my anger start to rise and it felt good. Taking a step toward this Gemma, I felt fire start to lick around my body and Gemma's face came into complete focus.

"Harry!"

Neville's shout and his hand on my shoulders stopped my fury dead. If I burned, I'd hurt him.

"Neville Longbottom," Gemma said, "You really should learn to care for your pets. Perhaps a leash would be a good idea?"

Unlike earlier in the day, my anger was easier to keep hold of. I reined it in as much as I could, but it was the presence of Neville that helped the most—I would not hurt my friends!

Screwing my eyes closed, I tried to keep myself from setting fire to everything in the room. The hand on my shoulder was replaced by something more substantial and tight. I snapped my eyes open to find Addera coiled around me. My anger drained away further.

"There is something that a thousand years under the command of Salazar Slytherin taught me," Addera said. "Breeding counts for nothing. It's how you treat others that's important."

I'd never heard her string so many words together so well.

"You're absolutely right. Among pure-blood wizards, breeding matters not." Gemma's tone implied that there was more coming, that she had more barbs. "And, you'll find my treatment of those that are worthy is exemplary. Oh, but why am I explaining this to you?" With that, Gemma stood up and started walking from the hall.

Draco and the other prefect stood up and followed, and a moment later Crabbe and Goyle did the same. What startled me was another girl from Slytherin house stood up and walked off as well moments before the entirety of Slytherin stood and walked from the hall.

I'd been snubbed by folks here and there before—mostly when they thought I was commanding a monster to kill them—but this felt like I wasn't even worth the time it would take them to snub me.

When Draco made it into the Slytherin common room, she wanted to bounce over to Gemma and kiss her. She'd never seen Harry Potter look so lost before. A shiver of excitement boiled inside at the realization that all of Slytherin was behind her—filing into the common room.

"That, Draco, is how you insult someone." Gemma flashed a smile at the younger girl. She didn't need to look at Draco's face to know she was flush with happiness. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, because from now on we ignore Harry Potter. Completely ignore him. I don't want you even acknowledging he exists unless a teacher forces you to."

The plan was two-fold for Gemma. It gave Draco exactly what she wanted, and it would disconnect Draco from this vendetta she seemed to hold with Harry.

"Okay," Draco said. "So what do you want me to do now?" It was an obvious give-and-take. Such things Draco was particularly sensitive to looking for now.

"It so happens I might have something in mind—"

"That"—Severus Snape said as he entered the Slytherin common room—"was possibly the stupidest and most ill-advised thing I've ever seen." He rounded on Gemma. "Do you have any idea what you almost did?"

Gemma's hackles were up, but she knew better than to antagonize Snape. "Putting a Gryffindor in his pla—"

"No. You almost burned down the great hall. Whatever other talents he has, when Mr. Potter takes that form he gains mastery over a fire almost as destructive as Fiendfyre, and using it only seems to encourage his anger. I hope I don't have to explain what this means for the target of his anger?" As he spoke, Severus' voice became colder and more precise.

"It was all my doing." Helena Fowley said. "I heard him say something about the fight and I—I couldn't help myself—"

"Don't try that. It might work on Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey, but I know better." Severus looked around and saw a sea of faces, and he could practically feel the intent of each one ready to jump to Gemma Farley's defense. "What are you doing here, Miss Farley?"

"What a Slytherin does best." When Gemma saw Severus' lip twitch just a little, she knew she had some measure of control back. "Is he really that dangerous?"

"I forbid you—any of you—from doing any more to get under Mr. Potter's skin. Let his own house deal with the fallout." Severus turned, sweeping his robe around him as he left his own common room.

"Thank you, Helena. That was most appreciated." Gemma leaned back in her seat and pondered her next course of action.

Rubeus Hagrid had found he quite liked this muggle's stories. Dragonflight had been a tough read, but in prison there wasn't a lot else to do. He read it in just two days. Then a little shape had cartwheeled through the door with another book in his hands. Rubeus was now halfway through Dragonquest.

Just the idea that there were dragons that weren't horrid big monsters tickled at Rubeus' imagination. Huge beasts these dragons were, and fire-breathing besides, but they were bonded with their riders in a way that he could only dream about.

"Hello, Hagrid."

The voice shocked Rubeus not just because it was coming from within his cell, but because it belonged to someone he'd thought long in his past. Not wanting to hurt his book—the precious little book—Rubeus slipped a piece of paper between the pages and set it aside. He stood up—hunched over nonetheless—and reached his hands out for Sirius Black's throat.

"Hagrid!"

"Shh! Don't make noise or guards come. Too much noise and dementors come. Not enough noise and no one comes." Toil poked his head out through the door to make sure the coast was clear. "Quiet or I put you back in your kennel."

"You killed 'em." Rubeus was as close to rage as he'd ever gotten. Even when they'd snapped his wand in half he hadn't been this angry. When one of his chains pulled tight, he simply yanked it from the wall. "You killed the bes' people what ever lived!"

"I did not, Hagrid. Can't you see that I was framed?" Sirius dodged and weaved as best he could, but while he could dodge Rubeus' huge arms it was a chain that wrapped around his throat at the worst possible moment that was his undoing.

"You were the only one who knew where they were. You were their Secret-Keeper!" Rubeus was almost blind with tears rolling down his cheeks. He reached for the end of the chain and started to tug on it.

Toil giggled. "He wasn't. Wasn't a Secret-Keeper—that's the secret! Now another knows, it's not a secret."

Rubeus froze. He turned to look at Toil. "What're you mean?"

"I'll tell you if you let him breathe."

The offer surprised Rubeus—he hadn't realized he was still choking the life out of Sirius. "Err, right-o." He let go.

"Four were the Marauders. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Moony was too wild to be trusted—too wild! Prongs was one being hidden—no good. Padfoot and Wormtail were the options." Toil watched as Sirius dropped to the floor choking and gasping for air. "If not Padfoot, then Wormtail is the worm. Wormy-worm. Eating the rot until it fills him up. Will he become a butterfly?"

"That's caterpilla'," Rubeus said as he sat down on his bench.

His hand reaching out for the book, Rubeus didn't intend to read it—it was just comforting. "Wormtail?"

"The irony"—Sirius coughed a little and rubbed his throat with one hand—"that the rat was a rat is not lost, but it's true. I don't know what happened to him, but Pet—the traitor—gave up the information. I know he did. I just need to get out and get my hands on—"

"Out?" Rubeus gestured to the walls. "Out o' Azkaban? You've los' your marbles."

"That's what those were?" Toil turned to Sirius. "Sorry, Toil ate them."

Grinning for the first time since he'd entered the cell, Sirius reached a hand out to Toil to help him stand. The iron grip of the house-elf practically shoved him to his feet. "Yes. Out. Out of Azkaban. But, we need help."

"Your help," Toil said.

"My 'elp?" Rubeus rubbed the soft pages of the book in his hand. A book its author would never dream would be read by a half-giant. "Well, I guess I don't 'ave nothin' better to do."

Author's Notes:

To Ms. Pince, does the library have many books on the proper care of horses? I believe that topic has become highly relevant.

"Ahem. Well, we don't keep specific notes on equines, but you could try the Monster Book of Monsters. There are many equine-like beasts, and I'm sure some of the information will be relevant."

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A Ghost Of A Chance

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"History of Magic," I said to Addera, "Is the best place to sleep. Others say Binns' voice puts them to sleep, but I think it might actually be some kind of magic. While he describes the impossibly important effects that someone did somewhen, your desk will feel like the softest pillow, and sleep will be impossible to resist."

"It's worse than that." Ron was walking on my other side. Every step he took with his right leg made his robe twitch a little—revealing that he was still carrying the beater bat under it. Preparedness was a vitally important thing to a wizard, and I couldn't fault him for carrying it. "I didn't even make it through roll call once. Weasley means I'm always last called."

"Well, I take perfect notes!" Hermione made it sound like she was perfect, but being her friends meant that Ron and I knew better. When we both cleared our throats, she sighed. "His class is the reason I learned that note taking charm."

Addera looked between us all. "I like history. I am history. This should be an easy class for me. Patience? I have waited hundreds of years just to hear someone speak."

We turned the corner into the final hallway leading to Binns' classroom, and I watched Hermione pull out one of her ballpoint pens.

"Aes-theta Loh-koh-mot-tor!" The thrill of magic passing through Hermione's horn called to my own. I wanted to send a torrent of magic her way, but had no idea how to do it. When she was done, the pen hovered beside her. "There." The pen moved of its own accord, trying to write the word on a piece of paper that wasn't there.

Ron jumped and slid over to where Hermione was attempting to maintain her air of accomplishment and said, "Peter Piper picked a pack of pickled peppers. How many pickled peppers did Peter Piper pick?"

The pen went mad. Squirming and dancing about, trying in desperation to write the nonsense Ron had said. This was a game we'd played before.

"Roberta ran rings around the Roman ruins," I said.

"I wish to wish the wish you wish to wish, but if you wish the wish the witch wishes, I won't wish the wish you wish to wish!"

Just as Ron finished, Hermione grabbed her crazed pen out of the air. "You two are terrible."

When we turned the corner and entered the room, I could see it was about half full of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students, but Binns could not be seen anywhere. For any other class, Hermione would want to be at the front, but with her enchanted pen she would want to be as far in the back as possible.

Hermione took the lead, her clopping hooves echoing through the room. Everyone seemed to be watching us—well, her. She clutched her pen so tightly I thought she was going to snap it.

We took our seats and waited for professor Binns. And waited. And waited.

"Isn't there meant to be a teacher here?" Addera asked.

I nodded as, for the first time since I'd been taking the class, we didn't fall asleep during a History of Magic class. "Something's wrong. Binns might sleep through his own death, but he wouldn't sleep through the start of period."

"What're we meant to do?" Ron asked.

"Not sure about you," I said, "But I intend to take advantage of his class to sleep anyway. No point wasting the afternoon."

"I met someone earlier who was very curious of me." Addera, it seemed, was completely ignoring my desire to attain an extra hour's sleep. "Professor Kettleburn wanted to examine me."

"We'd have still been there if I hadn't told him we had to go to lunch. He kept wanting Addera to take her glasses off," Ron said. "You should have, you know. Would have gotten us out of there quicker."

"You can't hypnotize the teachers!" Hermione said in her most stern voice. When she realized everyone in the room had turned to look at her, she shrank back a little.

"You are correct, Hermione Granger. I have thought about what this power means, and I do not think it should be used lightly or without great care. Salazar Slytherin used such power to control me and bind me—I would not wish that upon any creature." Addera nodded her cute little snout at the deep statement she'd just made.

My chances of getting sleep were dwindling. Without Binns to keep order in the class, everyone was talking. It was horrible.

"That's the kind of thing my mum'd say. You should 'ave heard her when someone mistakenly sent us an invitation to meet with all the other pure-blood families. I thought she was going to shout all night about it." Ron leaned across to where Hermione had let her pen go. "If practice makes perfect and perfect needs practice, I'm perfectly practiced and practically perfect."

"Ron!" Hermione struggled to grab her pen where it was writing all over the empty desk top.

"Do you know if Binns is coming, Harry?" Dean asked from two rows forward. As a result, everyone in the class turned to me.

"No idea." Well, there was nothing else for it. "I'm going to the staff room to find out." I jumped down from my chair and started to trot for the door only to have Addera slither up and move at my side. "I can go on my own, Addera."

Addera seemed unwilling to stop, and once we were in the hall she said, "There is nothing for me to do here without a teacher. I will protect you always, Harry Potter."

"Okay, well, let's head there as fast as—" Words failed me as I saw Draco Malfoy and Gemma Farley walking toward us. My anger wanted to come back, but lacking any antagonism from the pair I could keep it in check.

"Look who it is, Draco, the serpent that got away." Gemma's tone dripped with sweetness. "What a shame we don't have a parselmouth to call her back to heel."

"Harry Potter"—Addera's voice had never sounded so cold, not even when we were in the Chamber of Secrets—"close your eyes right now."

I didn't wait for her to finish. The little voice in my head that called her eyes beautiful was drowned out by the curiosity and panic as I realized what she was about to do. "Addera, you shouldn't—"

"I owe a debt to you, Harry Potter, but you do not command me. Now—" I heard two gasps and realized what had just happened. "You are both slithering a terrible path. Neither of you know the horror of what your actions and words will lead to, so I will explain it in a way any creature with a shred of emotion could understand.

"You both belong to me. You are my property to do with as I please. You will not speak unless I grant you leave and you will not move unless I ask it. Do you understand my words?"

There was the slightest pause before Gemma and Draco said together, "Yes."

"Perfect. This is what Salazar Slytherin wishes. The strong to rule the weak. Power unrestrained." Addera's tone carried a lot of Hermione's voice in it still, but it had started to gain its own inflections. "He owned me as I own you both for a thousand years. He ordered me to follow another—gave me to them. Draco Malfoy, you will do whatever Harry Potter desires, do you understand me?"

"Y-Y-Yes." Draco's voice sounded delighted, though there was an undercurrent of something ugly in his tone.

"This is what the leader of your house does. Power is absolute, and I have more than either of you, so I own you. Do you understand this state of things?" Addera asked.

"Yes," Gemma and Draco said together.

"Your minds are your own, your voices and thoughts are clear of my will, and you command yourself once again." The tone of Addera's voice was almost reverent. "Now you understand the freedom your machinations steals from people. You are toying with people's lives for your own enjoyment. You can open your eyes, Harry Potter."

I did so, and what I saw was the two Slytherin students staring in shock. Neither seemed capable of moving, and I wondered if Addera's whammy was still working.

"Now, call me master and you may leave." She waited, but after nearly a minute of Gemma and Draco staring at her in stunned silence, Addera smiled. "Good. Do not play games with those I protect again. You have the free will to ignore my demand, of course, where I didn't. Come along, Harry Potter." As she slithered past the two, Addera leaned up and whispered something to Draco that—try as I might—I couldn't hear.

Looking between the two stunned Slytherin students and Addera, I made my choice and walked off with the latter. "I thought you said you weren't going to use your whammy anymore?"

"I did not use it lightly or without care. You'll notice I was careful to undo everything, Harry Potter. What I did was gave them both a taste of power misused. I hope this is not a lesson I need to give more often."

"I don't understand what you mean. What were they doing that—"

"Harry Potter, in this you might be either too pure or too young, but I assure you that you are not lacking the intelligence to understand this." Addera reached down and picked me up completely without asking. "What they were trying to do was isolate you, cutting off your friendships and leaving you vulnerable. I could not perceive any reason for this other than amusement."

It didn't really make sense to me. I couldn't see why Gemma was doing what she was doing. "I still don't get it."

Addera's kiss on my cheek surprised me. When I turned to look up, she was smiling like she'd just eaten a whole bunch of pork sausages. "I'm proud of that, Harry Potter."

In that one moment the thousand year old basilisk showed me more affection that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had in twelve years. I wasn't even sure why I'd made her proud, but it made me smile that I had.

I hadn't realized how comfortable I'd gotten until Addera set me down on my hooves a few feet from the hallway that led to the staff room. "Thanks, Addera."

Slithering at my side, Addera said, "You are most welcome, Harry Potter."

Just as we reached the doorway, Sprout stepped through and froze. "My word, Harry Potter. What they said about you was true. This must be our new student, Addera. Why are you both out of class?"

I straightened myself and looked up. "Professor Binns didn't arrive to teach our history class. We waited twenty minutes in case he was sleeping."

"That would be turn-about—" Professor Sprout quickly snapped her mouth closed, though she was smiling. "Well, I don't have a class for this period, so let us see where the old specter is."

Sprout led us down. Down, down, down. The staff room was on the ground floor already, but she took us to the basement and then to the dungeon. I realized what we should be seeing—and weren't.

"Where's all the ghosts?" I asked.

"You destroyed them!" Moaning Myrtle said after gliding through the door of one of the crypts. "When everything moved, all the magic stopped. Now they're all fading away!"

"Miss Myrtle, could you show me where they are?" Sprout asked.

"They're all around you!" Her voice raising to a screech, Myrtle pointed around the empty hallway of the dungeon. Then she seemed to look shocked. "You can't see them?"

A new shape floated through the door of the crypt—Nearly Headless Nick. "Miss Myrtle, allow me." He looked like what horror movies would want a ghost to look. His normally vibrant silver glow was barely defined, and he was almost completely transparent. Compared to Myrtle he looked terrible. "It would seem like whatever magic was here that kept us all going, as it were, is gone."

"Gone?" Sprout looked confused and sounded as much.

"Quite so! It's the darnedest thing, though. Young Miss Myrtle here seems completely untouched by it. Out of the lot of us only the Bloody Baron, the Grey Lady, and the Fat Friar—Oh! The house ghosts. Peeves is still around somewhere, but the poor chap can barely rattle a chain."

"I'm fine!" Myrtle said. "Not that anyone cares. No one has asked poor Myrtle how she's still so ghostly." Turning, Myrtle examined the door as closely as she could.

I looked at Addera. Addera looked at Sprout. Sprout looked at Nick. Nick looked at Myrtle and must have realized he was last in line. Looking more defeated than I'd ever seen him, Nearly Headless Nick cleared his now expansive throat. "Excuse me, Miss Myrtle?"

"What?!"

"How is it you're still so ghostly?"

"I don't know!" With that, Myrtle fled through the wall and up.

"Oh dear," Nick said. "She'll be off to her lavatory now. A shame that girl—such a bright future."

Sprout cleared her throat. "I think I need to get Albus Dumbledore."

"What should we do about our class?" I asked, hoping against hope that she'd tell us we had a free period.

"Professor Binns keeps all his class notes in his desk. Head back to class and ask—oh, I don't know—that Granger girl. She's in your class, and she always knows what we're teaching anyway—at least the book side of things." Sprout turned toward the stairs leading back up. "Run along now, go on."

"Hold on a moment." Nick floated closer to us, though it seemed like Sprout didn't hear him. "You look familiar. Sorry, miss, but could you let me see your eyes?"

Addera jerked as if she'd been hit. Pulling back and coiling her tail in on itself, she shook her head from side to side. "Y-You can't."

"Nick," I said, "You know how I was trying to get to the Chamber of Secrets before anyone else to stop what was happening?"

Turning, showing me how wispy he was at close range, Nick nodded his head. "I remember that, though it's hard to—given it was before I got petrified!"

"I did it, Nick. That's why I'm—"

"You know, young Harry, I did think to myself that you seemed a little horse."

I couldn't keep back my groan, and upon hearing it, Nick seemed to become a little more corporeal for a moment. "Nick, I did it. I got into the Chamber of Secrets and fought the basilisk that Salazar Slytherin had imprisoned and bound to the will of his followers."

Nick lifted his hand high, looking almost completely restored.. "A basilisk! That's what it was! Oh, nasty things sometimes, terrible. I do remember someone mentioning their love for raw beef."

"Pork. Pork sausages," Addera said.

Turning to look at Addera, Nick froze almost as perfectly as he had when she'd looked at him the first time. "You!"

Addera flinched again. "Me. I'm sorry for what—"

"Oh! That? It's water under the bridge. Quite relaxing, actually. A little bit of downtime. I'd quite like another go once we get all this vanishing business sorted out." Nick stuck out his hand to shake.

Reaching up, surprise registering on her face, Addera held out her hoof and it passed right through Nick's hand. "Ahhh!"

"Oh! That's what a good bit of relaxation will do to you. Forgot I was even dead, then." Pulling his hand back, Nick peered at Addera a little more closely. "I say, you look a lot more… horsey these days."

"It's an improvement, trust me," Addera said. "For a start I don't risk killing people just by looking at them."

"So you can still petrify?" Nick sounded so hopeful it almost hurt.

Addera shook her head. "Part of trading away the kill people with a look bit is that I can't petrify either. All I do now is hypnotize."

Nick tapped his chin in contemplation, which caused his neck to wobble alarmingly. "I wonder what that does to a ghost?"

"We should get going before Sprout finds us down here again," I said.

"Oh, don't let me keep you from class. Good day, young Harry, Miss Addera." Nick bowed low in what I took for a courtly manner, only at the last minute his head came off almost completely. "Whoops."

Picking me up, Addera turned and moved fast. She slithered quickly up several flights of stairs, then down some, then back up another. My heart beat fast as the blurry castle around me was even more blurry than usual.

When we entered the hallway near class, Gemma and Draco were gone. Addera wasted no time and put me down just outside the classroom, so we could enter together.

Everyone was still waiting, and the room went quiet when we entered.

"Well?" someone asked.

I walked along toward the back of class, looking forward to being able to sleep through Hermione's talking. "I talked to Professor Sprout. She said Binns keeps his notes in his desk—probably some kind of ghost notes or something. Anyway, she said Hermione might as well read them to us since she knows the stuff anyway."

A collective groan went up from the class.

We walked (well, I walked—Addera slithered) to the back and passed Hermione going the other way. My eyesight meant I couldn't see her, and better yet I was more tired now. The moment she started speaking I nodded off.

Beautiful. So very beautiful. Draco stared off into space with the memory of Addera's eyes floating in her head. Nothing else would fit with those eyes taking up all her thoughts. Time passed—time that she didn't notice—as she focused almost entirely on remembering beautiful amber eyes.

The world was peaceful, calm. Slowly the memory of Addera's beautiful eyes faded from it's thought-consuming peak, and Draco gasped in shock. Almost hyperventilating, thoughts of what had just happened flooded into her brain.

Addera triggered the big bad predator part of Draco's mind, and though she wanted to run and run and leave the lamia far behind, she could see that Gemma was still entranced. "Follow me. Come on!"

With a command to drive her again, Gemma smiled. Her mind was flooded with beautiful amber eyes and four words—follow me and come on. It was easier than breathing to follow the one thought that existed in her head.

Draco ran blindly. Down hallways, up stairs, past classes big and small. Their petty little game of toying with Harry Potter now seemed completely insane—she needed somewhere safe.

To Draco's surprise a doorway formed in the stone beside her. A sense of safety seemed to emanate from the door, and without a better idea Draco pulled Gemma inside.

The room was a cozy sitting room. Draco looked around the interior and thought it would be right at home in his parents' home. Two big recliner chairs sat before a fireplace, and without another thought Draco rushed over and dropped into one.

"W-What was that?" Gemma asked as the amber eyes of beauty allowed her own thoughts to return to her head. "What did that—" As her thoughts turned to Addera, Gemma's memory brought amber eyes to the fore again. With her new favorite memory to comfort her, Gemma relaxed into the chair and stared into the fire—it looked amber.

"I don't know and I don't care. Nothing's worth that." Never in Draco's life had something been out of reach. Never had she found a single thing her father wouldn't buy or arrange for her. Harry Potter's wellbeing had never meant a thing—until now.

Struggling with the implications of what Addera had done, Draco slowly remembered everything she'd said. It took some time to remember all of it—every time Draco thought on Addera herself too much, her every thought would turn to beautiful amber eyes.

The commands had seemed right to Draco. They were easy to follow, and with nothing else in her head but beautiful amber eyes and those commands, she was compelled to do them. That another wizard would have this power over her was abhorrent to her, that it was a creature was worse. "Not even a mudblood, but her eyes were so beautiful…"

"They were amazing…" Gemma, reminded of Addera's eyes, felt her thoughts get chased from her head again.

Both students sat, relaxed and at peace.

Draco managed to pull herself from the mental trance first yet again. "Why can't I stop thinking about her eyes?" This time the words weren't quite enough to drown her mind in amber beauty. "Gemma?"

"Yes?" Gemma turned a little to look at Draco. Her mind slowly cleared to the point where she could consciously force her thoughts back into motion. "How do we stop something like that? All she had to do was look at us."

"We can't. Not unless we get the teachers involved, and then what? She'd just take off her glasses and tell them everything's fine."

"You're right. So we can't fight her, and we can't—we don't dare try to work around her." Swallowing hard, Gemma put every ounce of her mental fortitude into holding the beautiful amber eyes at bay. "We do what she said."

"Leave Harry Potter alone? But he—" Draco bit her own tongue. "You're right. For now you're right. What about the other stuff?"

"I don't want to gaze into her beautiful eyes again…" Gemma wasn't even sure how long she took to recover this time, but she shivered when her thoughts returned. "So I'll do what she said."

Draco turned to look at Gemma like the other girl had just grown a second head. "What?"

"She was right. What she did—what she said was done to her—was horrible. We don't even know if she did extra things to our heads while we were—" Stopping before she described Addera's eyes again, Gemma clenched her hands into fists. "I don't want to feel that weak ever again."

The words rang so honest in Draco's heart that she nodded before replying. "Me either."

Staring into the flames, both felt a sense of resolution with the agreement, and relaxed as beautiful amber eyes filled their heads. When reality started to impose itself again, it was only because of the needs of their bodies.

Draco jumped to her feet, legs crossed, and looked around the small study. There was the door they'd come in by and one other. She rushed over and pushed the second door open to see a palatial bathroom.

Gemma was only a moment behind Draco in finding the facilities. When both were done, and washing their hands, she finally thought about where they were. "What is this place?"

"I don't know. I was in a bit of a panic and ran in a few circles. The door opened and I just—It's exactly what we needed." Draco looked around the huge bathroom. It was bigger than her own personal en suite, and probably bigger than that in her parents' suite at home.

"Which is suspicious in and of itself. We need to find out what this place is so we can take full advantage of it."

"What if it literally is what we needed?"

"I don't think I was in any state to need anything when you dragged me in here, but we need information before we can continue. A second hidden room in Hogwarts. This is turning out to be the strangest semester ever." Gemma finished washing her hands and looked at her makeup. Reaching into her robe, she pulled out her wand and froze. "What if she'd made us cast spells?"

"What do you mean?" Draco was likewise finished with her hand washing, but didn't want to be all alone with her thoughts right now. She waited for Gemma.

"Addera. What if she'd just commanded us to cast spells? We'd never be able to claim it was anything other than our own hands doing it."

"Or she could have implanted suggestions to make us do it later. How would we know?" Draco couldn't stop shivering.

"Come on. Let's sit in front of the fire some more." Gemma offered her hand to Draco and walked with her back into the warm room.

Author's Notes:

Professor Snape: "Which of your snakes do you see or think will ignore your warning first about antagonizing Harry?"

"I assume you mean which of those I warned will go after the Potter boy first? If they're smart—which I sincerely hope every Slytherin is—none of them will." Severus crossed and recrossed his arms in a tight, controlled movement. "But, if I were a betting man, I think Gemma Farley will be the first to break my rule—though she will do so in a way that implicates someone else."

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"Harry, class is over."

Addera's voice stirred me from a peaceful nap. I yawned and lifted my head. The blurry world reminded me where I was and what I should have been doing. "Did she finish talking?"

Hermione cleared her throat, and my ears traced down the spell to the back of the class. "She's standing behind you, Harry Potter," Hermione said.

Arching my back, I stretched and yawned. A sound finally got through the background noise of other students leaving the class, and that was a pen writing furiously with a soft drone of talking. I looked to Hermione's desk only to see Ron still whispering to her pen—the notebook Hermione had positioned it over was nearly entirely black with its writing.

Ron started laughing, and kept laughing even when Hermione thumped him on the head with her notebook. "Come on. It was funny!"

"I only have so many pens, Ronald."

Jumping down from the table to my chair, and my chair to the floor, I started trotting for the door. Addera slithered up behind me and when we were in the hallway she came up beside me. "What do you think Draco and that girl will do now?"

"What about Draco? What happened?" Ron moved up to walk on my other side, while Hermione took Addera's other side.

"He and Gemma—the seventh year Slytherin prefect from lunch—started saying mean stuff and ignoring me like I wasn't there. I don't even know why they were out of class." We took the same stairs down that Addera and I did earlier, but this time we stopped at the first floor and headed for Transfiguration class.

"What did you do? Did you whammy them and make 'em do something embarrassing?" Ron asked.

Addera shook her head. "I did whammy them, but I used it to make them feel as weak and impotent as I'd been under Salazar Slytherin's control. Then I let them go."

We chatted about less explosive topics until we were seated in the classroom. McGonagall liked to surprise us, but today the clip-clop of her hooves was a dead giveaway. Addera passed me my things from her backpack (which was my backpack, but I wasn't going to argue with her), and I spent the few moments as McGonagall walked to the front of the class casting the spells I needed to use my things.

"Now," McGonagall's voice was firm and sharp, and she immediately had everyone's attention, "Since we are unable to practice any magic for the time being, I thought it prudent to move a lecture I'd normally give to third year students to right now. While there's only so much theory that can be useful in the study of magic, this at least will be useful to some of you."

McGonagall raised her wand, stopped, and put it down again. She turned toward the chalkboard behind her and picked up a piece of chalk with her hand. "Animagi. Can anyone tell me what an animagus is?"

Hermione had her arm up—glittering like a gemstone—but McGonagall smiled at her and looked around the rest of the room. "Mr. Goyle?"

"Uh…" Goyle looked around for help, but Draco was conspicuously absent. "It's when wizards turn into animals?"

"Correct, Mr. Goyle. Well done." Turning back to her board with further clops of her hooves, McGonagall began to write and read what she was writing. "An animagus uses a variation on Transfiguration magic to align themselves with a particular animal. This requires a ritual that takes a month to complete, as well as a series of carefully learned skills.

"Now, as you all hopefully know, I am an animagus. I learned how to become one in this very school. You might be thinking this would be a useful skill to have, but I caution you now that it oftentimes complicates things, and you would immediately have to register with the Ministry."

Turning back to us, McGonagall gestured to Hermione. "Miss Granger, can you tell me what factors of an animagus' two forms are the keys to identifying them as an animagus?"

For a moment Hermione looked ready to reply, then she seemed to tremble a moment and scrunch her snout up. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she didn't say anything out loud.

"Exactly!" McGonagall gestured around the room. "An animagus is impossible to discern from other wizards and witches, and from other creatures. They can only be recognized by their actions.

"Animagi are not contagious, are rare, and pose no threat to wizards, witches, and muggles ali—Yes, Miss Granger?" McGonagall didn't often stop mid sentence during a lecture, so I guess she must have felt a little bad for the earlier trick.

"How does one become an animagus?" Her words always so careful when she spoke to the professors, Hermione was actually asking an interesting question.

"Such information is not given out lightly, I'll have you know, but I will share it at my discretion." McGonagall gave us just a moment to take that fact in before she dove back into her subject matter.

It was fascinating, but while we got to learn a lot about animagi, the lesson was very obvious in what we didn't learn—any magic whatsoever. I had my mirror shard propped on the table, but I was also writing in Ginny's diary.

We didn't really discuss much, instead I wrote down what McGonagall was saying so that Ginny could hear too. As things wound down, I did have something I wanted to ask her.

Are you okay?

What do you mean?

I mean being stuck in a book and not being able to hear anything. It'd drive me batty.

It might be. Driving me batty, that is. I'm trying to work out how Tom did all the things with the diary he did, but it keeps referencing things he learned, and to figure that out I have to trace back to the lessons from his time at school.

I shuddered a little at the idea of learning from Voldemort, but what she was learning was pretty much what we were learning anyway.

What was Hogwarts like back then?

Most of the professors were the same, but they seemed… lighter. They weren't nearly so careful of their words all the time.

Huh?

I was genuinely confused. Were the teachers careful of their words? Well, of course they were, but what did Ginny mean?

Some of them use acts to hide what they're really feeling about a situation. Maybe it was just they were younger back then, or maybe it's Tom's angle on things.

Then something sunk in. It really made sense for the first time ever. McGonagall, Dumbledore, Hooch, and the others that have been teaching here since then, had taught Voldemort magic. They'd given him all the tools to be evil.

I think I know.

I started writing, trying to put it as simply as I could.

They taught Tom, Voldemort, all he needed to know about magic to nearly destroy their entire society. They taught him enough to kill.

Oh.

Her reply, lacking what information tone would give it, had me waiting for more. Eventually the ink began to form into more words.

I'm sorry, Harry. He killed your parents, and now—

I didn't let her finish. I began writing my reply below Ginny's.

And that's why I don't feel bad about being responsible for his death… 3 times now.

Sorry, Harry.

It's literally not your fault, Ginny. Besides, you helped me work out why the teachers behave the way they do. I like to think that it was Tom that was bad, and not what he was taught. There were dozens of other kids in his year, and they turned out fine.

It's hard to see that side of him in his diary. Maybe he kept his darkness hidden even from himself?

Maybe. Oh, I think class is finishing.

What time is it?

Uh, that's the end of last period, so it's dinner time.

Maybe you can do some more drawing later?

The reminder of my learning to draw from her made me smile.

Sure! Looking forward to it!

I drew a little smiling face in the bottom corner of the page, but almost on instinct I put a little horn on it. As I closed the diary, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. Jerking and looking behind me, I saw McGonagall looking down at me. My friends—including Addera—were all waiting in the doorway.

"Whilst I fully appreciate you doing everything you can to aid Miss Weasley in this troubling time, I'd like it even more if you paid attention in class."

I gulped. Truth, or lie? Some truth. "I was writing down what you were saying in there. Ginny was as interested in it as I was—I think." My Locomotion charms were all still active, and they let me pick up the diary, the mirror shard, and my other things. "I'm helping her remember, you know, where she is. Ginny said she's trying to work out other things she can do with the diary, but to work out how Tom did those things she has to follow his thinking, and she said that means she has to work out how he learned what he learned, and—"

"Harry, it's okay dear. If writing things down in the diary helps you both understand it, I'm perfectly alright with that." McGonagall seemed like she was about to say more, but she gestured to the door. "Run along now. Your friends—and dinner—are waiting."

The vision Tom had shown me in the book, of him putting all the blame on Hagrid, only reinforced the damage Voldemort had caused even before showing his true colors. "Thank you, Headm—"

"Just professor is fine when I'm teaching, Harry. You'll have to excuse me, I have an important meeting." McGonagall gathered her robes and walked back to the other end of the classroom and into the adjoining office.

I turned and trotted for the door to find my friends waiting. To my surprise, Addera reached down and scooped me up. "What are you doing? I can walk." My protests went unheeded, and I was thankful for it. I tucked all my things into the bag on her back and got comfortable.

"What'd McGonagall want to talk about?" Hermione asked.

Ron turned to walk backwards so he could look right at me. "Please say she wants to kick all of Slytherin out of the school." We all laughed, which helped break my mood a little more (as if Addera's hug wasn't enough).

"No. She just wanted to talk to me about Ginny. I told her we were chatting about class." I folded my legs up in Addera's grip and flicked my tail out. I'd not taken much notice of the appendage yet, but it was very different to the pony ones. I guess they were right to call me a not-unicorn.

"And did you?" Ron asked.

"Talk about class? Yeah, a bit. But we talked about a lot of stuff. She's trying to work out how to do all the cool stuff she saw Tom do." When I got a blank look from Ron and Hermione, I casually said, "Voldemort."

To his credit, Ron didn't flinch at the name, but his hand did slide to his robe where I could see the slight bulge of his bat. A new respect grew for my friend. "I keep forgetting he was the same guy." He turned around again in the wider hallway we were now in and walked beside Addera.

The noise of the great hall was growing louder as we neared it, and when we reached the doors it was almost overwhelming. Everyone was talking, and I could see the reddish colors of Gryffindor in their usual table row.

"Where's McGonagall?" Hermione asked. "I'd have thought she would have beaten us here."

"She said she had a meeting." I had to raise my voice (like everyone else) to be heard. When Addera set me down on the bench beside her, I climbed up onto the offered coil of her tail and sat high enough I could at least lean over the table with my forehooves.

The bowl of salad in front of me smelled really good. Casting (or rather pronouncing) a Locomotion charm didn't draw nearly as much attention now. I used my first charm on the serving forks, another on my plate, and yet one more on my own fork.

Hermione looked at me with one raised eyebrow before holding out her plate. "Thank you, Harry."

I couldn't really tell her to serve herself—not when I'd claimed all the cutlery. "Tell me when." I began forking over more and more of the vibrant salad. Just when I thought I was going to have trouble putting more on her plate, she held out one glittering hand to stop me. Now it was my turn.

"There's a lot of salads all 'round. I wonder if that's because of all the muzzles and ears I'm seein'." Ron was indeed looking over the crowd, which was good because I still couldn't see further than my dinner plate unless I was angry at something. "Draco's here, but that girl he's been hangin' around with isn't."

"Percy's not here either," Hermione said. "Oh! It's probably another prefect meeting. That'd explain why Headmistress McGonagall is missing, too."

"The Slytherin's are really quiet. Crabbe and Goyle look really happy, though. That's bloody terrifyin'!" Ron said.

"So, do you have any idea who it was?" Hermione forked some of her salad into her snout, and looked really pleased about the taste.

"What? Who?" I asked, then stuffed some greens into my own mouth.

The explosion of flavors almost completely distracted me from Hermione's answer, "Your secret admirer!"

I coughed, spluttered, and shook my head. "Nope. Don't know and don't care. I've got way more stuff to worry about than—"

"He's got a date with them tonight. If he doesn't go," Ron said, "He will never find out who it was."

Now, there was a lot of things people said about me. Some people said I was a glory seeker, others that I am the one who saved them from he-who-shall-not-be-named-other-than-Voldemort, and yet more claimed I was an idiot (and if I'm honest, I've made a few errors in judgment), but something no one ever realized about me was how much I despised leaving a mystery go unsolved.

"I'll only go if you all tail along and save me," I said.

"Save you?" Ron asked. "But Harry, this'll be your one true love!"

"What's this about love?" Fred (at least I think it was Fred, I'd need to be closer to see if his freckles matched) asked.

George (again, I hoped) climbed around someone on the table to sit beside Hermione. "Do you need a love potion, Harry?"

"Perhaps some scents?" Fred asked.

Ron leaned close to Fred and cupped his hand near his big brother's ear. "'Arry's been getting love letters." Ron's hand did nothing to hide his voice.

"Sounds to me, George, as if little Harry has it all worked out." I'd gotten it wrong, apparently. It was Fred on the other side, not George.

"Nah. Don't be daft. He learned it from the best. 'E's got the girls chasing 'im, and he didn't even need t' throw a punch!" George said.

"When's their first date?"

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Or guy, George. 'Arry is a progressive lad, after all."

"You're right, Fred, we mustn't be—"

"Shut up!" I was embarrassed, but not angry. I glared between Fred and George, but neither of them dropped their knowing grins. "I don't even know who they are."

"He," Hermione said. "It's a boy, remember?"

"Oooh!" George and Fred both leaned closer.

"When's the date?"

"When're you getting married?"

"Tonight. After supper." Ron turned to look at me. "Don't worry, Harry, we'll all keep an eye on you—"

"And make sure no prefects catch you snogging," George said while waggling his eyebrows.

"If you embarrass him too much, he might not go." I could have kissed Hermione for jumping to my defense, even if it was a slightly self-serving way. "Give us some room. We'll let you know when we're leaving."

And that's how easy it is for someone to dash my hopes and dreams. I turned my full attention on my salad and tucked my ears down to ignore everyone.

Minerva McGonagall didn't need to call a roll to notice one of their prefects was missing. She knew the majority of the students present for over an entire school year, and Percy Weasley was gone. "Does anyone know where Mr. Weasley is?"

It took every ounce of Penelope Clearwater's mental fortitude to avoid gasping. The few times she'd seen Percy in the last two days he'd looked terrible, and now he was skipping a prefect meeting? She resolved to check on him after the meeting—somehow.

"I think he's sick, miss. He went to the hospital wing, but apparently there's nothing that could be done."

"Thank you, Mr. Baseen. If you wouldn't mind filling him in after the meeting, I'd appreciate it. Now, to order." Minerva looked down the list of her notes. "I need suggestions for things to—and not to point too finer point on it—distract the student body. There's nearly eight hundred students with us right now, and the last thing we need is them getting curious and sneaking out of the castle."

"We could have a quidditch game." Steven Baseen didn't care that he was among the most junior prefects, a quidditch game was always a good distraction.

"A grand idea, but I fear it may not last," Minerva said, though she did write it down.

"What about a series? I know most of the teams are going to have some disadvantages, but I think it'd be funny, and funny distracts more than competition."

Minerva didn't notice who made the suggestion, but added it. "Good. Good."

"We're going about this wrong." Gemma hadn't wanted to charge in right off the bat and make her move, but the time was right. "I mean, this isn't something we should be bothering the faculty about. We're practically adults, we can lead by example."

A lot of excited mumbling circled the room. Minerva raised one eyebrow critically. "What do you propose, Ms. Farley?"

"The prefecture is a great idea, but the students don't feel like they own it. We're practically halfway to teachers for them. I propose a student council to organize activities and distractions—safe distractions—to help the adults do what they need to." The speech had been rattling around in Gemma's head since she woke up after staring into Addera's eyes. Even now she found herself almost pulled away mentally at just the thought of seeing those beautiful eyes again.

Lucian Bole knew his cue. "You realize that if we have a prefect running it, it won't actually be managed by the students?"

"Well of course we need someone to steer the ship initially, mostly because we know what we need from it, but I foresee it being a vibrant and healthy service that can support and distract every student of every house." Almost panting, Gemma felt an almost constant rush of excitement.

Her games so far had been merely to dominate Slytherin house and do what she wished. Being a prefect had allowed her the latter, and her wits the former. But Addera had driven home something that Gemma hadn't realized—she could control everything.

"I'll allow this on one proviso, the council must be populated with students from all four houses. No playing favorites." That it was an attempt by a Slytherin to take more power was undoubtedly a fact, but Minerva liked the notion. "Following that, as the one proposing the idea, I see no problem with you heading the First Student Council of Hogwarts. And of course your first action as the student council will be to organize this quidditch competition."

Work could be delegated. Gemma already identified Steven Baseen as a good choice to head up the sports side of the new organization, being muggle-born didn't matter to her one whit, but the other such students would see it as her being inclusive. "Thank you, Headmistress, I'll endeavor to make you proud."

"I'll stress that we have no contact with the outside—with the world we left. We cannot anticipate how long we will remain here, or if the same effect might happen again. I don't want any students to be separated from Hogwarts, and I certainly don't want any casualties." Minerva could already feel a headache coming on, though the intriguing (and a witch such as Minerva McGonagall could see that this was Slytherin intrigue) thing was Gemma Farley's idea. "Please, enjoy what's left of dinner, and do start your project as soon as possible, Miss Farley."

"Would I be able to make an announcement at dinner?" Gemma's mind tingled with all the possibilities. She wanted to make a spectacle, and if Minerva played into it, a spectacle it would be.

"Oh. Of course, dear." Minerva felt she had more things to worry about than how much rope to give Gemma. When the last of the prefects and the two Head students filed out, she looked down at the blank parchment.

To whom it may concern,
It is with mild distress that my school has found itself supplanted into your

"I can't believe I'm writing this."

Draco Malfoy had opted for the heavy meal. Roast vegetables, Yorkshire pudding, steak, sausages, and a side of bacon all featured on her plate, though she found herself barely able to gulp it down. Her eyes kept sliding to the double doors—waiting for news from Gemma.

"What're you waitin' for?" Vincent asked.

Gregory snorted and shoveled in a fork laden with a hunk of bloody steak covered in gravy. When his mouth cleared (quick enough that he must have barely chewed the meat), he replied, "That girl. You know he has a thing for her."

At first panic hit Draco's thoughts at the idea of him being associated that closely with Gemma Farley—for all her talents, she wasn't what his father would call marriage material. But on the other hand, she was a mover-and-shaker in not just Slytherin, but soon to be the whole school. Trying his hardest, Draco managed to blush a little.

"There! He's blushing. I knew you'd aim high, Draco, but a seventh-year?" Gregory, since the little bit of fun they'd had, found himself feeling closer to Draco than ever. There was something about giving a good beating that sparked a bond of brotherhood that hadn't been there before. They had spilled blood together.

Vincent had to gulp down his mouthful of food to say, "Hey, there she is."

Spinning around, Draco watched Gemma walk into the hall like she owned it. Their eyes met, and neither girl had to change their expression for Draco to find out that it was on. "She did it. She actually did it."

"Did what?" Gregory asked.

"Just watch. This'll be amazing." Draco was almost bouncing in place. Her eyes never left Gemma as she walked up the gap between the middle two tables until she reached the front of the room.

Gemma made a point of stopping before she got to the top step of the dais where the teachers gave their announcements from. She turned and looked over the students. Her fellow prefects had taken their seats and begun eating already. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, everyone, I have an announcement to make.

"I've been at Hogwarts now for seven years, and in that time I've seen house fight house, and student fight student." Gemma paused long enough to let them all think about what she was going to say next. "It's wrong. It's silly. We're not fighting each other to graduate, we should work together so that even the least of us has the opportunity to reach O.W.L. level.

"I asked Headmistress McGonagall for permission, and she supported my idea of starting a Hogwarts Student Council."

Draco wasn't watching Gemma—she knew her friend would perform perfectly—she had her eyes on the students of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Both had reacted with looks of (perfectly understandable) skepticism at first, but mentioning Minerva McGonagall's name had made even the Gryffindor students sit up a bit straighter.

"I know what you're all thinking. You think this is some scheme developed to boost Slytherin house, but I will prove to you it isn't. I need students who can stand with me and help direct the Student Council into a position where it can benefit every student at Hogwarts, who wants to help me?" Gemma looked between the four tables before her. "Please? Any volunteers to help?"

"Harry Potter!" Fred Weasley couldn't believe how good his gag was. It would either reveal this to be the Slytherin sham it most likely was, or get Harry into another silly situation—working with a Slytherin.

"Me? What—?" Harry asked.

Gemma put on her biggest smile. Perfect, she thought. "Harry? Would you help me help everyone?"

Harry saw his chance and jumped at it. "Yes!" If he was stuck doing stupid council stuff with Slytherin, he couldn't go to the meeting with his admirer. He jumped down from Addera's coil and began trotting up to the front of the room.

"Draco!" Gregory Goyle reached an arm out and patted Draco on the shoulder. "Draco Malfoy!"

"Draco? I'd rather not have two Slytherin on the council so early, could we have someone from another house?" Gemma suddenly regretted helping Draco ensure her friends' loyalty. She'd have to have words with her protege later.

"Eddie Carmichael!"

"Eddie? Would you help me?" Gemma ladled on her charm so heavily that the boy stood up. "Come on, we can work together to make Hogwarts the best school of witchcraft and wizardry!"

"Heidi Macavoy!" Cedric Diggory didn't care in the slightest that it might mean less training hours for one of his best chasers, he knew Heidi was the best Hufflepuff had produced in some time, and if something big was happening, he wanted her on top of matters. "Go on, Heid!"

Having disdained her hat in favor of showing off her pony ears, Heidi didn't wait for Gemma to invite her. She stood up and started making her way to the front of the room.

"This is wonderful. As chair of the Hogwarts Student Council, I have something else to announce." Gemma waited until everyone—even her fellow council members—turned their heads to face her. "We have been given permission to have a little quidditch tourna—" Gemma didn't get another word out—the cheering in the hall was deafening.

Draco stared in complete shock. With just that one announcement, Gemma had pulled the whole school to her side. "She bewitched them all," she said, but not even Vincent or Gregory heard her words.

Author's Notes:

Addera: Did Salazar present you to the other founders or their family?

"From what Hermione told me about it, the whole chamber was secret. I wasn't introduced to anyone—anyone he wanted to keep alive, anyway." Addera's snout scrunched up like she'd just bit a lemon. "Did I ever mention how much I hate that man?"

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Boulder
Canary in the Coal Mine
Daremo
Dio-Drogynous
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Sirion123

And special thanks to the following, for careful eyes and friendly words:
Lab

Complete Discovery

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It was insane to think I was in a student council with her. Gemma Farley had been pretty nasty so far as I knew her, but this was completely different. She was obviously up to something. When all the cheering settled down, she turned to the three of us (Heidi, Eddie, and me), and smiled as happy as you please. I guess a Slytherin getting their own way would be happy.

"Well, that went over well. I need some volunteers to cover the quidditch side of things. I'll talk to Hooch to organize the umpiring, but we need to organize a tournament for them, and I was thinking about something extra special," Gemma said.

"I don't think Potter or Macavoy should do it, they're biased." Eddie Carmichael had an odd way of talking—really fast, almost like he was trying to convince even himself that what he was saying was true. "So either you 'andle it, or I do."

For a moment I wondered if Gemma was going to fall for it, but she beamed a smile at Eddie. "Well, that's why a good leader delegates. Since the two people least likely to know about quidditch should be the ones to oversee it, I'll find—oh drat, what was his name? Young boy who calls out the games."

"Lee Jordan?" I asked.

"That's the one. Do you think he would be able to organize a game?" Gemma was looking right at me, and I could swear that she was trying to tell me that she saw Eddie's idea for what it was.

"I-I'll ask him." I started to turn only for Gemma's hand to touch my back. I froze, unsure what she wanted.

"Great! I know I can trust you to find him and send him over. I hardly think anyone would suspect a Gryffindor student of fixing a quidditch game," Gemma said, then let me go.

I was glad I had four legs. The daze of seeing a Slytherin student be nice was not a horror I'd soon forget. I walked down the Gryffindor table until I saw Lee. "L-Lee! Gemma wants you to help run the quidditch tournament. You okay for that?"

By Lee's expression of shock and joy, I hardly need have bothered with the last bit. He jumped up from his seat. "You bet! I've got a great idea for a round-robin—" his voice was drowned out as he turned and practically ran to the front of the room.

Still in shock, I climbed up on the bench and then onto Addera's coil. I sat there a moment, confused at what I'd just seen.

"Are you alright, Harry Potter?" Addera shifted her coil, but as she did her tail-tip hooked around me and pulled me closer to her. "Do I need to bite her this time?"

"No! I mean, I don't know. She was acting nice, and when Eddie—I don't know what Eddie was trying to do, but he was talking really fast to do it. She cut him off as if she'd planned to do it." Addera had pulled me close enough that I was against her side, and it didn't take much effort for me to lean a little more against her.

I repeated what happened to Addera, and it wasn't until the end of telling her everything that I realized Ron and Hermione were leaning forward to hear too.

"That, Harry Potter, is what is called politics. It's a dirty sport—I wouldn't recommend it." Addera put one of her legs around me. It felt like—well—like I was safe.

Ron used his fork to gather up the last piece of sausage off his plate. "Well, whatever that viper wants, she can wait until tomorrow for it. Harry still has his date." The fork's contents disappeared into his mouth.

Oh, why not. If Gemma Farley wouldn't save me, I would have to—Staring at the things on the table, an idea started to form. There was still a sizable pile of candied bacon strips, and one of the plates had a large square of waxed paper on it. "Loh-koh-mot-tor!" Magic poured—well, trickled—through me to energize the spell.

With the wax paper now under my control, I floated it across and started using it to scoop a good sized pile of the bacon into the middle of it.

"Are you seriously going to save a pile of bacon for later?" Hermione sounded incredulous. "Honestly. Just looking at the stuff makes me feel a little queasy."

When the pack of bacon was right at my limit to lift with the spell, I floated it over and tucked it into Addera's schoolbag (still my schoolbag) for later.

"Ah! There you are, Harry." Gemma's voice cut through the air like a knife. Everyone went quiet. "I completely didn't realize you had your first date tonight or I wouldn't have asked for your help. Take the night off from any council business—have fun. That's an order."

I should have known a Slytherin wouldn't help me.

"Y-Yeah. Thanks, Gemma." What else could I say?

"Our first proper meeting will be tomorrow at lunch. I'm sure we can get a bite to eat and borrow the prefect hall. I'll see you then, Harry Potter." Gemma, with a carefree smile on her face, turned and made her way over to the Slytherin table. She sat opposite Draco.

"She sounds, uh, nice," Hermione said. "I don't mean nice-nice, but she wasn't as aggressive as yesterday."

I looked up at Addera just in time for her to gently nudge my snout with a hoof. "Hey!"

"If we're done eating, Harry Potter, it is time to go wait for your secret admirer." She slithered and shifted, setting me on the bench as she got her coils under her.

"I just need to see one friend before we do." Without another word, I struck my hooves and leapt forward into a run! This plan was foolproof, but I just needed to convince my one friend who could save me.

Addera moved faster than Ron, Hermione, Fred, or George. She shot forward and soon slithered quickly at my side. "Where are we going?"

"Up!" I shouted with glee. "Up! Up! Up!"

Up and west were the directions, and soon enough we were climbing the stairs of the west tower. I settled into a pattern. It wasn't a pronking style, but close, and all too soon I was able to poke my head into the owlery.

"Hedwig?" My call provoked a surprised chirrup to my right. I stepped further into the room and called her name again.

Snowy white, Hedwig swooped down from a perch and then back-winged and screeched in shock.

"It's me, girl. Hedwig, It's me. Come on, you know my voice."

Owls are not built for hovering, but Hedwig managed it for a good few seconds before she dropped down and landed on the floor of the owlery near to me. She made a questioning whistle.

"You wouldn't believe the last few days I've had, Hedwig. You understand if it left me a little horse?" I totally deserved the peck I got, though she just pinched rather than actually doing damage. "I'm sorry I haven't been up as much lately, things have been a little odd."

She stood just as tall as me, though I probably still outweighed her quite a bit. I turned toward Hedwig, and without any fear gently butted my head into the side of hers.

"Addera?" I asked. "Can you get that special package out?"

"You're a remarkable person, Harry Potter." I heard the shuffling of my schoolbag, but didn't hear Addera slither closer. "Here."

Every other owl in the owlery let out their own version of a scream and took off out the windows. I had to lift a foreleg to cover my face from all the feathers and stuff-I'd-rather-not-think-about that got kicked up.

Unlike the other owls, however, Hedwig had jumped over me to stand between me and Addera.

"It's okay! She's a friend, Hedwig." At my words, Hedwig turned to look at me. "It's true. She's—You can ask Fawkes if you want. Addera was trapped underground. Besides, look what she helped me sneak out of dinner with."

My spell was still active on the paper, and I managed to lift it from Addera's hoof and unfold it before Hedwig. "I might not be much chop at carrying things right now, but—"

Hedwig had heard enough and pounced on the barely unwrapped bacon. She let out an excited bark and began to devour strips of bacon, rending them with her claws and beak.

"Addera, can you give us some room?" I asked.

"You can't hide up here all night. They'll come looking for you, Harry Potter." That said, Addera turned and slithered out the door, making absolutely no sound.

Once Addera was gone, I stepped closer to Hedwig and lifted a hoof to run down her back. "Okay, now for the serious stuff." I leaned a bit closer and whispered my plan to Hedwig. It was crazy, stupid, and even Hedwig lifted her head from the pieces of bacon to whistle at me—she knew it was a wizard plan. "I know, girl, but you're the only one I can trust with this."

She looked at me, a gaze that would stop even the most skeptical muggle in their tracks, and barked once.

"Please?"

Two barks.

"I'm not going to—" Another bark cut me short. I let out a reluctant sigh. "Help me, Obi-Wan Hedwig, you're my only hope." Since we'd both sat outside Dudley's window watching Star Wars, she'd always done anything if I asked her like that. The first time had been a joke, but it was our joke.

Hedwig made a little whistle and, with the bacon all gone, jumped up onto my back. Her claws closed on my thick scales, but though I could feel her tighten her grip to hold on, she didn't actually hurt me.

"Just don't tell my friends I said that. Not only wouldn't they get the joke, but they'd think I'm going crazy." I walked out of the empty owlery, the only sign I'd been there the shredded scrap of wax paper.

Addera had departed a good way down the stairs. I appreciated that she must have gone until she couldn't hear us anymore. She took a look at me and I saw a grin curl her lips and show off the white fangs she usually kept hidden. "Owls were common messenger birds in my time, but Slytherin didn't talk to his except to tell them who to take messages to."

"Well, Hedwig's my friend," I said. "Besides, I don't think you should judge all wizards based off Salazar Slytherin."

"Wise beyond your years, Harry Potter. So you're taking your friend to meet your admirer?" Addera took the lead, slithering down the staircase with more grace than anything with two legs could muster.

"Something like that. Hermione thinks it's a guy."

"You sound unsure about that, Harry Potter. Hermione shared that information with me, too. Would that make it more or less awkward?" The words were laden with curiosity. When I didn't respond, Addera turned to look at me. "Well?"

"Yes," I said. "Just, yes."

We made our way down to the ground floor together without anymore words. It was a companionable silence broken only by Hedwig's occasional commentary on how steady I was taking the stairs.

"There you are!" Ron turned and cupped his hands to his mouth. "Harry's over here!"

"See what I have to put up with, Hedwig?" I asked, and got a soft whistle in reply. "Yeah. You said it. Did you have to call them, Ron?"

"Do you honestly think either of my brothers would give me a moment's peace if I let them miss this? To say nothin' of Hermione." Ron walked up and offered his hand for Hedwig's inspection before offering her a pet. "Haven't seen you with Hedwig for a while. Was she still miffed about the car ride—OW!"

"That serves you right." I stepped a little away from Ron, more for his sake than Hedwig's. "Well, I guess we'd better get this over with. Oh, look, here comes the cavalry."

Fred, George, Hermione, and (to my surprise) Alicia approached us, and while George and Hermione walked companionable side by side, Fred and Alicia looked a lot more—friendly.

"Ready to find out who your one true love is, Harry?" George asked.

Muttering something to Alicia I didn't hear, Fred gestured at Hedwig. "I'd say he already has his first girlfriend. She upset you didn't grow wings like Hooch?"

"Hi, Harry." Alicia, unsurprisingly, sported a pair of pony ears atop her head. "Does anyone know who it actually is?"

"Well," Hermione said, "I've deduced it's a boy from Ravenclaw."

"We should go, Harry Potter, before he gets cold feet and we never find out who it is." Addera looked at Hedwig on my back. "Guard him well."

To my surprise, Hedwig let out a little whistle and shuffled her talons on my scales.

I led the way, fearing we resembled a funeral procession. As I neared the main greenhouse, I could see movement at the front door. "Okay, everyone wait here. If I shout, come running with your wands and bats out."

"Bats?" Alicia asked.

Ron reached under his robe and lifted out the beater bat. "You'd be surprised how effective this is when applied to a skull."

Fred and George Weasley looked pleased as punch.

"That seems a little barbaric. Why don't you use—Oh, magic." Alicia reached up and ran a hand through her hair, even my terrible eyesight could see her rubbing her own pony ears. "Fair enough, I suppose."

I ignored their discussion of the finer points of thuggery and approached the stranger. The boy was wearing a robe over his uniform, but had blonde hair trailing down his back all the way to his waist, and as I got closer he turned and curtsied.

"Lord Qilin! It is finally my—is that an owl?" he asked.

"This is Hedwig, and I'm Harry," I said. "What's your name?"

"Luna." He looked intently at Hedwig and reached one hand out to tickle her under a wing. "She's very happy about something."

The way he spoke made him sound almost feminine. "She's a good friend."

Luna turned to look at me as if I'd said something amazing. It was then I noticed the two pony ears on his head, and my angle let me see the tip of his tail poking under his robes. Given how much magic he'd used to get the notes to me, it didn't surprise me he had more than the average amount of pony changes. "Now where was I?" He seemed confused, then smiled and curtsied again. "Lord Qilin! It is—You are a qilin? Or maybe a kirin?"

"Hold on. You know what I am?" I reared up and put my forelegs on his leg. "What did you say I am?"

"Well, that depends. Are you from China, Japan, Korea, or maybe—"

"What? I'm from England…" Despite my suspecting Luna wasn't all there, he seemed to have the best knowledge on what I might be. But despite everything, there was something that stung more than the need to know who I am. "Luna, you've been casting a lot of spells."

"Oh no. They are just little tricks father taught me. I've never heard of an English qilin before. I wonder if I should have waited for a different astrological sign?" He lifted a hand that glittered to his chin and tapped it. "Is there a sign for pork sausages in Yorkshire pudding?"

"Frog in the Hole?" I asked.

His face lit up, and Luna reached out to touch my horn. A shiver ran down my back at the touch. "Just one." He looked at my hooves on his leg. "Definitely a kirin then."

"Kirin?" Despite the word sounding odd, at least it wasn't not-unicorn. "Look, forget that for a moment. Aren't you worried about turning into a pony?" I looked up at him.

Luna smiled almost serenely. "Are you?"

This was not going in any way, shape, or form how I'd expected it. "Hasn't anyone else in Ravenclaw said anything? You're not supposed to use magic or you'll turn into a pony." I dropped down to all fours again, with left Hedwig a much easier perch.

"You're casting spells all the time, and you aren't turning into a pony." Despite being completely wrong, he was absolutely right. Luna, I realized, was a grade-A wizard.

"Hedwig," I said, "I don't think we need to put the plan into effect at all. This isn't how I expected things to go."

With a short whistle, Hedwig spread her wings and jumped off my back.

"What? Of course you could have lifted me. It would have been perfect!" I turned and glared at Hedwig, but she stared me down. "You could have at least tried."

"I've never met a kirin who argues with an owl. You understand each other perfectly, don't you?" Luna was pale as could be, almost completely white, but a little blush came to his cheeks. "I'm glad things are going differently now."

Absolute. Wizard.

"Why don't we go back inside?" Despite the oddity of the situation, and how strange Luna seemed, I found myself liking him. He had a way of looking at the world that was both real and surreal at the same time.

It was then that the hedge beside us opened up to disgorge five Gryffindor students onto the ground beside us. Ron, Hermione, George, Fred, and Alicia had all apparently been leaning on the hedge to get a better listen.

I rolled my eyes. At least Addera had been sitting back, though with her hearing she didn't need to be leaning on the hedge to hear us. "Luna, let's go—"

"Luna?" Hermione might be on the ground, but she was the first to jump back to her feet—err, hooves. Wait, are hooves feet? "Luna Lovegood?"

I looked at Hermione. "You know each other?"

"Yes—well, no. But I remember the new student sorting at the start of the year. There was a Luna Lovegood sorted into Ravenclaw." Hermione looked at Luna intently. "But that was a girl."

"I am a girl," Luna said. "At least, last time I thought about it—oh!" Everyone waited for him to say more, but Luna just looked a little spaced out.

"You're not a girl," Addera said as she slithered through the gap in the hedge and circled around Luna once. "You're a boy."

"Am I? I hadn't noticed." Luna looked down at himself. "How can you tell?"

"You smell like a boy," Addera said, flicking her tongue a few times for emphasis. Was it odd that I hadn't noticed her do that? It might be, but I had an dogpile going on, and it was getting stacked quite high.

"We should go to Headmistress McGonagall with this. Changing from a girl into a boy definitely isn't something that should happen. I—" Hermione seemed to catch a glimpse of the dogpile, or so I liked to imagine. Her mouth worked a few times, but no sound came out.

"Well, this got boring. I 'eard there was meant to be snogging." For a few moments it seemed like George was expecting something, or rather someone to do something. He looked left, right, then behind him.

"Where's Fred and Alicia?" Ron asked.

George let out a long, slow whistle. "Well, Ron, I guess it's about time you learned about cooties. You see, when a guy and girl dislike each other enough, they become oppositely charged—like a magnet."

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at me, but to my surprised it was Luna who paid George the most attention. When he didn't say anything else, Luna blinked a few times. "What happens next?"

"Snogging," George said. "And I shan't tell you anyfin about that."

I turned my head to look back at Hedwig. "Sorry, girl. I thought there'd be more—well, strange stuff. I didn't know what to expect, and figured you'd be the best to have on my side in this."

"You trusted Hedwig over us?" Ron sounded mildly upset.

"Hedwig and I have a deep understanding, Ron."

"And he bribed her with bacon," Addera said.

"That wasn't a bribe." Walking away from the greenhouse, I couldn't help but feel a sense of—

Whatever my thoughts had been, they changed in an instant. In the dim evening light I looked up and saw (albeit fuzzily) the stars above, and a huge moon. There was a sense of oddness, of something missing that had always been there—at least since we'd wound up here.

"The barrier's gone. The wards!" Hermione's voice sounded panicked.

Everyone (when I glanced back) was looking up. Even without my glasses the night sky looked strange—different.

A strange strength and goodness seemed to well up inside me. I felt like I wanted to sing and dance and hug someone and laugh and do all those things while—I just felt so happy!

Percy Ignatius Weasley stared out his window. He watched as the sun almost reached the horizon (or at least the sun-shaped glow through the wards) and trembled. Fear, trepidation, and even hope gripped him.

He almost missed the first touch of his master. The sun was gone. Darkness swirled through Percy's mind. Every emotion seemed to amplify infinitely so that he was ripped in a dozen directions.

"Your king is back, Percy Weasley. Relax and know I'll protect you like a father."

Percy's emotions eased, calmed, subdued by dark shadows and smoke. He was able to relax for the first time all day. "W-What do you want me to do?"

"So very loyal. Forget your worries, Percy Weasley, and let me show you what you can do to earn a place at my side." An image flickered in Percy's head—a band of what looked like steel. The image was so detailed that Percy could even make out the writing: Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.

"Where is it? I'll get it for you." Percy stood up, his movements his own, because he knew his master would have need of him to do something right now. Why else would he even be summoned?

"This is well hidden, but there was a moment earlier when it's location was revealed to me. Follow my will."

Leaving Gryffindor tower, Percy did just as he was told—something that came naturally. He climbed staircases, avoided the noisy great hall, and soon found himself on the seventh floor of Hogwarts, staring at an odd tapestry.

"Let me guide your steps, Percy. I promise you no harm will come to you from this."

Percy didn't have a choice, not in his way of thinking. He relaxed, and his legs moved on their own.

"Think of the item. Fix it in your mind. Want it."

Only when his legs carried him past the entrance three times did Percy feel himself back in control of his body. He looked around and spotted an open door.

The room, when Percy managed to stumble inside, was huge. It could have fit several great halls in it and still had room for Gryffindor tower. Walking among the broken furniture, Percy realized he could spend the rest of his long wizarding life and never find the hoop of metal. "Like searching for a needle in Africa."

"Maybe, maybe not. I felt the darkness of it call to me through this barrier the moment the door was opened, and through you I can feel it still. This room is warded against direct location magic, but that circlet is powerful beyond measure."

Closing his eyes, Percy focused on his magic. He didn't explicitly try a spell to find the item, but he closed out his senses one by one until only his sense of magic remained. He was in a minor trance when he felt his master reach through him.

"There."

Percy's eyes snapped open and he looked directly forward and to one side. A glint of light—or magic—shone from between two stacked chairs. The rickety piles of literal junk did nothing to distract him. Percy walked forward with confidence and tipped the chairs over to reveal the circlet.

"You are a loyal servant. Don't touch it, it is tainted with spells to ward it. Bring it to me."

The path Percy needed to take unraveled before him. Ripping the canvas out of a nearby painting (and ignoring the scream of whomever was the subject), Percy used the paint-covered cloth to pick up the jewelry. He wrapped it tightly and pulled it under his robe, then Percy Weasley stuffed Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem into one of his magically enlarged inner pockets.

Fast.

Percy didn't know if he'd thought the word or if his master had pushed it into his mind. He didn't care either way. Taking the staircases as quickly as he could, Percy practically ran down to the ground floor of Hogwarts and out of the castle.

His path not stopping, Percy ran through the dark night. The ground was icy cold, and his feet started to feel a little numb, but he couldn't—wouldn't stop.

The edge of the wards was in sight. It was illuminated in the dark night by the beams of helmeted ponies. They were pounding at the barrier, slamming at it. "Master? How do I get—"

Power unlike anything he'd felt before rushed around Percy. It flooded his being and left him thinking of only one person: Penelope Clearwater. A silly-happy grin creased Percy's lips, and all his thoughts of his master, the horrid thing he carried, and even the crazy world Hogwarts and its students had found themselves in just faded to be replaced with her beauty.

Pain that bit deep into her being threatened to rip Ginny away from her own body. She cried and fought through it—though Sombra did not fare as well. "Percy!" Ginny had no idea what had hit them, or why Sombra was now completely comatose, but while the king was away she could play.

"Percy! You have to listen to me!" Ginny's body was odd. She'd been avoiding feeling how her new form moved under Sombra's control, but now she had to own what she'd become.

"G-Ginny?" The fever dream of King Sombra washed away as Percy met Ginny halfway. He staggered as she staggered, until they met just inside where the barrier had been. "Ginny! You're okay! I—" The memory of feeling Ginevra Weasley's soul within a book flickered and faded. "You're a horse!"

"We might not have long. King Sombra got knocked out by whatever that was. Are you okay? You need to take the horcrux away!" Ginny tried to use her magic the way Sombra had, but it was hard to work. "We need to go to Dumbledore, he'll know what to do!"

"No, Ginny, we can't. There's something really strange going on here, and I can't work out what. King Sombra wanted me to bring this circlet here, so I'm not moving until he returns to take it." As he spoke, Percy's memory and mindfulness of Sombra returned, and with it his loyalty. But though he was loyal to his king, he had someone else he was loyal to in his arms. "You'll be okay, Ginny. Master will be back soon and I'll make sure he promises to help you."

Looking around, Ginny could see ponies with helmets on falling down. She felt little pulses of energy in each one, but here and there they were pulsing with something much different—the biting pain from earlier.

Hissing at the touch of that odd magic, Ginny cut herself—and Sombra—loose from the ponies that were radiating it.

Mi Amore Cadenza—Princess Cadance—had had enough. "Waiting will not get us in there. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna didn't send me here to sit around on my butt and ignore the situation for days." In her own mind days felt like weeks—months—and her discontent was inflamed by the fact that while the soldiers all had schedules and watches, she just sat there watching the barrier.

"So what do you want to do?" Shining Armor tried to resist the temptation to kiss his wife on the cheek, but failed (the concept of having a wife might be new to him, but Shining liked to think he was getting the hang of it).

Cadance had a plan, but would need help to carry it out. "What I must do, Shiny. Spark Splash?" Cadance stood up only after she received her due kiss.

"Your Highness?" Rushing to attend royalty was a Royal Guard's reason for being, and Spark was quick about doing so.

Cadance looked at the magical barrier and couldn't help but admire the detail of the magic now that Spark had explained it to her. "Can you isolate and protect a piece of this magic?"

"Of course I can, but the rest of the barrier will give nopony time to rush through the gap." Spark's estimation was derived from all the testing that he'd done so far. "Wait, isolate? Protect?"

"I want a sample to keep after I obliterate it." Cadance waited a moment. "Well?"

"I'm on it, Your Highness."

Shining Armor waited until Spark began his work before turning to Cadance. "Obliterate? Last I saw you had trouble with a shield spell."

"I can do a shield spell, I just can't do them how Celestia wants me to. Somepony else showed me a better way." Cadance offered her cheek again, and again got a kiss. Love empowered her magic, but Shining's love amplified it beyond all sense.

"I've got it, Your Highness!" Spark said once he'd finished putting the fragment he'd just excised from the wards into a magical container. "If you're going to do something, you—" Not another word passed Spark Splash's lips before he watched Cadance turn to Shining and kiss.

The kiss wasn't just magical, it was a fusion of magic that Equestria had seen just once before. The pulse of pink light radiated away from them, fading in color but not intensity. Where it struck a pony, that pony was left thinking of their special somepony—and in Keen Eyes and Flagessio's case, each other—when it struck the barrier of magic it did just as Cadance had predicted.

The kiss broke, but its aftereffects continued. Shining Armor was grinning like an idiot, and the squad of Royal Guard were almost all facing back toward Canterlot.

"Everypony!" Cadance had never tried to use a Royal Canterlot Voice before, but it seemed that in the wake of what she'd just done, she could do anything. "Bring your equipment and march!"

Passing the former barrier, Cadance could feel the echo of its presence. She waited for all the Guards to pass her—even a dazed pegasus and unicorn—before she fed her alicorn magic to the remnants of the barrier.

Her magic alone wasn't enough to give life to the wards again, but when she approached Spark and opened his magical container, it was like a flame put to black powder.

The drain was huge, but Cadance could hold it. She smiled at a job well done and turned to the huge castle in the distance. "I believe it's time we made a house call."

Author's Notes:

Addera: Are Gemma's actions something you planted into her mind? Or is it quite possible your demonstration to her and Draco may have had unintentional side effects, or may just not have had the effect you intended?

Addera tapped her jaw in thought. "Put simply, I do not wish to control them any more than I wish to be controlled. What Gemma is doing is different to what I feared. I will wait and see."

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I have no idea how long we all stood there grinning like fools. It was only a sharp pain in one of my ears that ripped me from my stupor. Hedwig reproachful bark told me who had pulled me out of my fascinated state.

All my friends—including Addera—were still just staring dumbly. "Thanks, Hedwig. You definitely deserve more bacon for that." With Hedwig making a soft whistle, I set about waking everyone up.

Looking up at Ron's height, I decided he probably wouldn't be the best to start with. I walked up to Addera and tried jostling her. Deciding I'd rather not try to climb her and do what Hedwig had done to me, I instead traced out her tail to find the very tip of it.

I started with just stepping on her tail, then stomping, but when nothing seemed to work I decided Hedwig had the right of it. "You really are the smartest one here, girl. I guess that's because you're not a wizard or witch at all."

Hedwig only gave an agreeing whistle.

Leaning down, I bit Addera's tail.

Addera shouted a lot of words in parseltongue that I didn't understand. She moved faster than anything I'd ever seen, opened her mouth wide, and started to lunge at me. Then she stopped. I got a wonderful close-up view of her longer-than-should-fit fangs.

I'd seen nature documentaries showing snakes striking, but they never just stopped. Addera looked at me through her glasses and snapped her mouth closed. —I am sorry, Harry Potter.—

"Is there a better way to wake you up, Addera? When nothing else works, that is." I walked up to Addera and leaned against her.

She reached a hoof down to rub one of my ears. "No. You did the right thing. It's hard, Harry Potter. For so long I was made to act like the monster I resembled."

"Old habits die hard?"

"Something like that. Do we need to wake the others up?" Addera asked.

Almost as soon as she asked that, Ron shook his head and looked around. "W-What happened? Was that some kinda spell?"

"If it was, it affected all of us." I watched the others slowly coming to one by one. The last to recover was Hermione. Then a thought hit me. "We have to go check on the castle."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Because I don't think that just affected us. I want to know what's going on, and am sick of only finding information in bits and pieces." With that said, I broke into a not-quite-run.

Hedwig spread her wings and let go of my back. With a soft whistle she took to the air and winged her way up toward the owlery. Fair enough, I guess, but it felt good to have her around.

Addera and then Ron caught up with me—the latter running hard to keep up. "Harry! Slow down!"

I sighed and slowed to a fast walk. Now George, Hermione, and Luna caught up to me. "Where's Fred and Alicia?"

George rolled his eyes. "'Ow old are you, Harry?"

No more was needed—it was obvious what he was getting at. "Not old enough that I want to know. Let's get inside and find out what's going on." I looked aside at Luna. "With everyone."

When we reached the front door, Snape was waiting for us. He waited for us to walk all the way up to him before unfolding and refolding the front of his robes dramatically. "I thought to myself, another wild magical effect, it must be Harry Potter at the heart of it. And here I find you rushing into the castle after dark like you-know-who himself is chasing you, looking more guilty than an owl standing beside a cage bereft of mice. What have you done now, Mr. Potter?"

"Sir, it wasn't Harry's fault this time. I was with him all—" George said.

"Tweedle Dee, odd that I don't see Tweedle Dum. I am not at all—" To my shock, Snape cut off one of his tirades and stared behind us. "Mr. Bole, you know the curfew better than Mr. Potter."

Lucian Bole, one of the biggest students in the whole school, shook his head. "It wasn't them, Professor Snape. I was keeping an eye on 'em, and while they were affected by—by whatever that was, they wasn't the source of it." I guess my jaw could have dropped open further—if I were standing on a cliff and it fell off completely.

"You were keeping an eye on them, or keeping an eye out for them?" Despite his tone still being suspicious, I could see that Snape had given up on his former line of questioning.

"S-Sir?" I asked, only to have Snape wheel back upon me like a bull that saw red. "Sir, we need to see Headmistress McGonagall right away."

Snape's eyebrows shot up. "Mr. Potter, we actually agree on something. Follow me, and try not to cause an apocalypse on the way to the headmistress' office."

Lucian fell in beside us and we followed Snape toward the main stairs that led to the first floor. I looked up at Lucian and whispered, "Why're you watching us?"

"Wasn't. Coverin' for ya. Snape's got it in for ya, and Gemma don't like that. Was dumb luck I was sneakin' back in too," Lucian whispered back. "'sides, you're on the student council."

There was nothing else I could say under the circumstances. "Thanks." Was this a trick? A ploy? Would Gemma have gone that far as to send other prefects to cover for us to ingratiate herself with us? Ugh, Hedwig had it easy—eat bacon and whistle or bark as appropriate. Stupid me had to admit I could to talk, didn't I?

"Don' mention it. Besides, if you can 'elp get another few games of quidditch in, it'd be ace." Lucian's face brightened as he talked about quidditch, and I realized we had something pretty awesome in common.

"Quiet back there, or I'll add to your detention." Snape sounded like he was just getting warmed up. "Nothing? Pity."

If I wasn't going to report to McGonagall that even more strange stuff had happened, I might have felt more like smiling. As it was, I took the consolation prize of not being particularly upset—and given my recent tendency that was a good thing.

When we reached McGonagall's office, Snape reached out a hand and rapped on it twice. An invitation quickly came from within, and Snape opened the door.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes a little. "And what do we have here, professor?"

Snape always delighted on shoveling problems onto others, or so I'd noticed, and was gesturing into McGonagall's office with us. I already knew it was going to be a tight fit, but when I walked in and saw Dumbledore sitting just out of sight of the doorway, I knew it was going to be extra tight. "I found them trying to sneak back into the school just after the latest strange magic emanation."

"Thank you, Professor Snape, I'll take it from here." McGonagall's words left no room for Snape to wiggle, and when I peeked back he was closing the door behind us. Once the door was closed, McGonagall cleared her throat. "Seeing as we have a prefect involved, I'll ask for your account first, Mr. Bole."

Lucian looked proud as punch. "It wasn't exactly a secret that Potter had a secret admirer. I 'erd he was going to meet 'em out near the greenhouses after supper. Figured it was best to let 'em have their little meetin', and if things got problematic I'd step in and shoo them back to their dorms.

"Well, 'e took all his friends with 'im, and when all was said and done they're walkin' back to the school when Professor Snape catches 'em."

"Next I'll as you, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall gestured at George.

"It was just like what Lucian said. Harry was going to meet up with someone who'd been leaving him letters, he met him, and then that wave 'it us." George seemed a little on edge, and I could see him glancing back at the door behind him a few times.

"Mr. Potter, you look like you're about to explode if you don't say something. Given your recent—ah—issues, I'd rather that not happen. Please go ahead." McGonagall didn't sound upset, and she didn't sound angry.

"Well, the biggest one is Luna here. He wasn't a he a few weeks ago." I gestured to Luna.

"Miss Lovegood, you—" McGonagall stopped and stared at Luna. "Have you been using magic?"

"Just a few little things to make letters for Harry. No spells." Just about every single way Luna acted was in counterpoint to her being a boy. I could see the way she—he—sat was like a girl would (crossed legs), and even the way he—she—spoke was vaguely familiar as being feminine, but he was a boy.

"I tried to tell him they were spells," I said.

"He did—Harry I mean—and they were—spells." By the end of her words, even Hermione sounded confused. "Why hasn't anyone else changed like this?"

"You well know how complex transfiguration magic is, Miss Granger. This is wild transfiguration magic, we have been lucky its outcomes have been so viable. Having a few outliers from the norm are not just possible, they're likely. What are your thoughts, Albus?" McGonagall looked—as did everyone in the room—at Dumbledore.

The first thing Dumbledore did was smile and reach out a hand to Luna. "I'm sure it's only temporary. Are you feeling okay?"

Luna smiled up at Dumbledore like the sun had just shone through storm clouds. "I didn't
really notice anything changing. Should I stop wearing dresses?"

"Well, that's up to you. If you want to, however, you could ask around some of the boys for a spare pair of pants or two to try out." Dumbledore didn't let go of Luna's hand. "I think some very strange things are afoot here. As I told you, Minerva, the Hogwarts' wards are down, and I have no idea what is actually keeping the magic of them going anymore. There's nothing on Earth that could be set up to maintain the same magical load as the keystone of Hogwarts within the timescale of us being here.

"That wave—" Dumbledore closed his eyes and smiled a little. "That wave was the most curious thing of all. There was certainly no malice in it, and I doubt a dark wizard, witch, or creature would be capable of making it. Whatever is coming to Hogwarts, Minerva, is a force for good."

Everyone was quiet for a few moments. I tried to put together what must have happened before we got here, and came up with Dumbledore feeling the wards stop, and the magic hit, and then he must have rushed here to tell McGonagall.

"I don't think there needs to be any punishment for this." McGonagall was winding up to dismiss us, I could feel it. "You clearly had nothing to do with the latest goings on, but do try to plan your little trysts inside the castle next time, Miss—Mr. Lovegood.

"Mr. Bole, please see all the other students to their houses and ensure they enter them."

Lucian dipped his head. "Yes, headmistress."

"What I find curious," Dumbledore said, "Is where young Fred Weasley is?"

When everyone looked at George (except Luna, who looked at Addera), George held up his hands as if to ward them off. "What're you all lookin' at me for? It's Alicia you should be askin'."

A knock came at the door, and McGonagall had barely opened her mouth before it opened to reveal Snape holding Alicia and Fred's ears, one to each hand. "It appears to be quite the night for being outdoors. I'll have words with the prefects on duty." He heaved Fred and Alicia forward and then slammed the door on his way back out.

"Now I want you to be honest. Is there anyone else outside tonight?" McGonagall asked, and I could see the slightest hint of a smile on her lips.

"Not that I know of, ma'am." Lucian spoke with authority that I knew he was willing to stretch.

"Thank you, Lucian. Now, all of you back to your rooms. We'll be having special theory-only examinations on Monday." McGonagall waited for everyone's groans to stop. "I know you've all studied hard for them, what with them meant to be this week. An extra few days' study should ensure you all do splendidly."

We kept quiet on the walk back to Gryffindor tower. Luna and Lucian might seem fine, but they were still outsiders. George whispered the password to the fat lady so our two eavesdroppers couldn't hear it, and we all slipped into the Gryffindor common room.

No sooner was the entrance closed behind us than everyone started talking at once.

"Did you see that? A Slytherin prefect covering for us?"

"What was that strange magic that hit us all?"

"Is anyone else changed into a boy?"

"Is anyone else changed into a girl?"

Fred and Alicia, however, just slipped out of the common room. Thinking that they had the right idea, I made my way to a quiet corner—with Addera following me—and cast a Locomotion charm on my pen and Ginny's diary.

Addera opened the backpack for me to lift the two objects out and she curled up beside me with her own book. "I wonder if I'll have exams too?"

I looked up at Addera and shook my head. "Probably not. You've only been studying a few days, what're they going to test you on?" Opening the diary, I started to sketch Luna as best I could.

I'd barely gotten a rough outline and added the first sketch of his eyes when Ginny began writing to me.

Who're you drawing?

An odd person I met today. Luna Lovego—

I know Luna! She's in the same classes as I am. Err, was. How'd you meet her?

You're probably not going to believe it, but you know how I explained that people are turning into ponies when they cast magic? Luna didn't realize her "little tricks" would do that, only she turned into a boy!

I filled in some more details of the sketch, trying to think in geometric shapes like Ginny had told me to. I got Luna's eyes better sketched, and started on his nose.

Noses are hard. They don't conform to simple shapes.

Nodding, I did the best I could to do Luna's nose as I could remember it.

Was anything else different?

Stopping my sketch, I began writing a reply.

Everything. Well, mostly not everything of Luna, but I mean a pile happened after last class. There's a student council now, which I somehow got volunteered onto. A Slytherin student, Gemma Farley, is organizing it. Fred seems to be dating Alicia Spinnet.

Fred?! I thought George was after her?

That's not the strangest bit. When Snape caught us sneaking back into the castle, a Slytherin prefect covered for us, then covered for us again with McGonagall.
Then there was the strange magic. It made everything feel… nice.

What strange magic? You didn't mention anything about that!

Kinda hard to explain, but Dumbledore said that no dark power could ever have made it. It felt… It felt nice. Like a warm hug from someone you care for.

As I wrote my description, I felt a nagging thought that it had almost been like when Addera picked me up and hugged me. Thinking a bit on that, I definitely agreed with Dumbledore.

I need to tell you something, Harry, but you can't tell anyone else.

The words faded very quickly. Could I promise that I wouldn't even tell Dumbledore or McGonagall? Absolutely. I was raised having to keep all my fun a secret.

I won't tell another soul.

I'm learning dark arts as well as normal, but I only want to know it so I can fight it, Harry.

Be careful, Ginny.

I am. I mean, I'm learning from the greatest dark wizard that ever lived… and died. Several times. At the hands of a really great wizard.

Ginny!

I bet you're blushing.

I still want you to be careful. Everyone I've talked to about dark arts says it's really easy to keep using it once you start. How has it gone working out how to use the diary's other tricks?

Well, I think I could make a ghost of myself appear, but it would take a lot of energy. The diary feeds off emotional energy, like a vampire for emotions.

That was a surprising revelation. I added a few more lines to my sketch.

So how do I go about giving you emotional energy?

XOXOXO

I jumped a little at the message.

Ginny!

Harry, you have no idea how much your help means to me. But the answer to your question is what you're doing now. Just keeping the diary near you while you experience things will help feed me. IT! I mean it!

Addera's tail squirmed and worked its way around me, and I was soon wrapped in a warm coil that helped me relax a little more.

Harry?

Sorry, Addera was moving around to get comfortable.

She's the basilisk, right?

I realized I hadn't spoken of Addera much with Ginny. It was a bit of a touchy subject for her, at least so I thought.

Yeah.

She didn't have a name when he… when Tom ordered her to attack students. What's she like?

She's a bit strange. There's these moments when she is caught off guard and I see that she really is a monster, but she's trying to be good. I don't know why, but I feel a connection. It's like being with her makes things easier. I've got no idea how to better explain it.

You like her?

She's nice. When she picks me up, it reminds me how small I am, but in a reassuring way. I can't remember my mum, my real mum, but it kinda feels like I imagine it would feel when she held me.

When no immediate reply came, I went back to drawing. I tried to do a self-portrait, but froze when I realized I had no idea how I looked. I settled for Tourmaline instead.

Who's that?

That's Tourmaline. Well, it's a bad picture of Tourmaline. I guess I still suck at drawing.

You're getting better. Do you think you could spend a whole day sketching?

If my classes don't get in the way too much.

Okay. I want you to draw a picture of everyone you talk to tomorrow.

That wasn't going to be a small undertaking, but it wasn't like there was anything else to do in class, not with practically being the only one who can do magic. I caught myself yawning.

I think I might go to bed now, Ginny. Is there any way I can get you more energy?

The longer you hold the diary, the more it can feed. If you sleep while touching it, I'll be able to… IT will be able to feed off you all night.
Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight Ginny.

I folded the diary closer around the pen, and floated them over and into Addera's backpack. Another yawn urged me to stand up and stretch, then I started to step out of the cozy little nest Addera's coil had made.

"Tired, Harry Potter?" Addera asked.

I yawned again before I could reply. "Yeah. It's been a bit of a crazy day. It seems like every single day something new happens." I started walking toward the stairs that led to the dorm room I shared, when Addera picked me up.

It would have been easy to try to be tough and tell her to put me down, but the fact was the way she held me against her fuzzy chest felt nice. As she glided up the stairs—propelled by her long tail—I found it getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open. The last time I managed to keep them open was as we entered our dorm room. "Addera?"

"Yes, Harry Potter?"

"I need Ginny's diary. Can you pass it to me?" I stifled another yawn, and my eyes threatened me with immediate sleep.

The soft leather pressed to my belly as Addera slithered up onto my bed. I was barely aware of Addera coiling around me as sleep finally overwhelmed me.

Finding that odd room again had been hard. Draco had walked up to it, but the doors didn't appear. Again and again she tried, but it wasn't until the third try that they appeared. She wasn't stupid, she realized there would be significance to the number and why she didn't find it—or more to the point, why no one else seemed to have found it.

Apart from the entry, there was something else Draco wanted to try. She walked into the room with the idea of her own suite of rooms firmly in her head, and sure enough it was that. "Interesting." She walked around the huge sitting room, looked in on the bedroom, then the bathroom, then she went back to the bedroom.

With a self-satisfied sigh, Draco walked through the room to the closet. Throwing both doors open, she hoped to see more trousers and school uniforms, but instead there were pretty dresses, skirts, and other girl-things. "Apparently, I need to be more specific."

Closing the door again, sharpening her thoughts toward trousers, Draco opened it to reveal perfectly sized and pressed school uniforms. Male school uniforms. She smiled this time. "Well that saves me needing to wash my things by hand."

Grabbing four uniforms, Draco turned for the door and left the bedroom. The strange room was oddly picky, Draco thought, but with a little clarification it served its purpose nicely. Leaving the room and closing the doors behind her, Draco made her way back down from the seventh floor to the ground, basement, and then to the dungeon.

"Draco Malfoy. You're out late." Lucian Bole had been walking back to the Slytherin dungeon from the Ravenclaw tower when he spotted Draco. "Come on, and if anyone sees us, I found you doing… something."

"Thank you, Lucian." It was only right to thank the older boy. "Perhaps I could do you a favor."

Lucian liked favors. He fell in beside Draco. "Keep talkin'."

Draco gestured to the clothes she was carrying. "The idea of washing is not a popular one right now. We could use magic, but I certainly don't intend anymore changes."

"More?" Grinning at having found some interesting (to him) information, Lucian looked at Draco and attempted to guess. "Hooves? Tail? I saw one guy got wings. You got wings, Draco?"

Idiot, idiot, idiot, Draco thought. "No, none of that. But the favor would be that I can get you a week's worth of clothes without any magic at all."

Teasing was one thing, getting out of chores was important. "What'd you want in return?"

"I was thinking a prefect who could guide me to and from a particular room I found." While Draco didn't want to share her knowledge of the strange room, she also didn't want to get caught by a prefect while there. Gemma was trustworthy, but she wasn't always free to escort Draco. "So?"

Lucian thrust his meaty hand at Draco. "You've got yerself a deal."

Draco could see skin missing from Lucian's knuckles and also noticed his nails were trimmed extra short. She thrust one hand into the huge grip of the boy. "I figure with the quidditch competition coming up, we'll all want some spare uniforms."

"What changed, Draco?" Lucian asked again, his hand squeezing on Draco's smaller one.

"Tail!" The pain from Lucian's grip was bad, but not as bad as the pain of revealing the truth. The only issue was now if Lucian asked to—

"Well, let me see it."

"What?!"

Lucian tightened his grip a little more. "If you don't keep it down, we'll have a dozen prefects rushing here. I just wanna see the color of your tail." Still holding Draco's hand, Lucian turned slightly and lifted the back of his robes. "Mine's pink." Lucian's face colored with the slightest blush, and he was smiling (something that would strike fear into anyone on the quidditch pitch).

Draco wanted to laugh at the idea of the meathead having a pink tail, but with the situation she was in that would be stupid of her. Grasping her wand in her other hand, Draco sent up a silent hope that she would get a tail—and just get a tail.

Silently, and using her body to block the gesture, she cast light upon her wand.

An inhuman sensation of movement behind her answered Draco's prayers. The feel of a tail growing was unique, but not unpleasant. Slowly, she let go of her wand and reached to the back of her robe and pulled it up.

"Black? Nice." Lucian let go of Draco's hand. "Life's easier when you don't argue with people bigger than you, Draco."

Lucian was the second of the older Slytherin students to give Draco advice in the last few days, and she found herself willing to concede that she should pay more attention to it. But while Draco intended to take the message to heart, she also liked Gemma's ideas better—never getting into a position where an argument is likely.

It was slips like she just made that would be her undoing, Draco realized. As she carried her new clothes through the common room and down the hall to her private rooms, Draco made a list of things she needed to change about herself to not just fit in, but to take some control.

"Dad, what would you do?" Draco asked once she'd entered her private bedroom. "Simple, you'd know how to twist things to your advantage and lean on family bonds. Neither of which I have. I have Crabbe and Goyle, but neither of them could stand up to Bole on his worst day."

The other option Draco pondered was getting something on Lucian. There was the clothing, but it wasn't a stretch for her to imagine Lucian finding someone to do his laundry for him. Another thought she worked on was the quidditch games coming up. Making Lucian look good on the quidditch pitch would go a long way to making him agreeable to Draco.

It was about then that something hit Draco. "What if this is him liking me? He's not exactly small. If he wanted to make my life a nightmare, it wouldn't take much effort on his part to make my life a nightmare," Draco thought.

How to make Lucian like her more was the key, then. As Draco sat down on her bed, she bit down hard and winced at a sharp pain in her rump. Jumping back to her feet, she reached back to feel for what had been injured. "Right. I've got a tail now."

The prospect of having a tail was worrying, but Draco had experienced enough transfiguration to know that such things can be fixed, despite what McGonagall said—or so she reasoned. In the meantime, the tail (and why she'd gotten it) gave her a few ideas.

Rubeus Hagrid was starting to get worried. He stood at the door to his cell and looked out at the tiny house-elf. "You want me to what?"

"Sit happily in your cage for the rest of your life, then ask a dementor for a smooch." Toil did a little cartwheel. "Then we can all stay here forever. It'll be lovely."

"I'm sensin' a bit o' sarcasm."

Stopping and looking up at the mountain of a man, Toil put one hand to his heart—or where a heart would be for a human. "What? Me? Sarcasm? Never!" He walked back up to the cell door and banged one little fist on the bars. "I want you to rip this door off and follow me with it."

"Now, I thought you said that. What're we doin'?" Rubeus closed both hands around the steel bars of the door and first pulled, then pushed. The first motion ripped the hinges apart, the second pushed the door out through the hole that had formerly been its home.

Toil waved one digit at Rubeus. "No no! No questions. Quietly follow me, and do exactly what I say." With that, that house-elf turned and started walking off down the hallway as if he owned it.

Turning the cell door, Rubeus tucked the heavy steel bars under one arm and followed the house-elf. They got to the end of the hall, and Rubeus watched Toil peek around the corner. "What're—"

"In here."

"Wher—" Rubeus didn't get any further. Toil grabbed one finger of his huge hand and pulled him through the solid door beside them. Stumbling, Rubeus looked down at Toil, then up at the owner of the cell.

"Well, look what little pretty you brought to me today, Toil. My, ain't 'e a biggun." Bellatrix Lestrange looked Rubeus Hagrid up and down—though mostly up.

"Hit her with the door," Toil said.

"What? Wit' the door? But I might 'urt her."

Toil tapped his chin and looked at the woman who was still chained to the back wall of her cell. "You're right, she'd probably like that. Kinda not all there in the head, if you ask me. Okay, I'll just have to kill her."

Rubeus froze. "You can't do that."

"Do you know who she is?"

"Ahem?" Bellatrix was willing to put up with a lot if It meant she could break out of Azkaban, but this didn't seem to be going somewhere she'd like to be. "I believe I can introduce myself. Bellatrix Lestrange, daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black, scion of house Black, Death Eater, Chosen of Lord Voldemort, resident of Azkaban—At your service." She tried to curtsy, but the chains holding her to the wall barely gave her enough movement to bob a little.

"Blimey!" Rubeus lifted the door just a little and brought it down on Bellatrix's head. "You coulda just said she was bad news. Now what do we do?"

"We step outside and duck around the corner. Come on." Grabbing Rubeus' finger again, Toil pulled him back through the door. A glance around the corner showed him the guards were now looking the other way. "Follow."

Rubeus thought a few times over what exactly Toil was doing, but he gave up trying to find an ulterior motive (though he knew there would be one). They slipped down the next hall without saying anything, but at the next corner a guard practically came around it right into their faces.

"Door, please." Toil looked up at the guard, then watched him slump down to the floor after a soft clang. "You're really good at that."

"I'm not sure I like being good at it. What're we doin'?"

"Well, I'm making this look like he tripped and hit his head on the bars here." Toil heaved the guard around and laid him beside the empty cell nearest to them. "But if you're asking what we're doing together, we're getting you some protection." At the next intersection, Toil took a hard right.

When they reached a solid wooden door, Rubeus waited for Toil to pull him through it. "Well?"

"We have to get the guard inside to open the door. It's the only way in." Toil reached up and knocked on the door.

"Who's that?" a voice called from within.

"It me, sir, Toil!" Toil put on his weak-and-sniveling voice he used with the guards. "I think someone fell down out here."

The door opened a crack, and Rubeus knew what he was meant to do. Putting on hand against the inches-thick door, he pushed it open and started to bring the cage door down on the hapless guard's head.

"Wait. Punch him!" Toil said.

"Right." Rubeus turned to the guard. "Sorry about all 'dis." He reached out and bopped the guard on the head."Now what?"

"Well, they don't keep people's wands here—they're not stupid—but all other personal possessions are kept inside." Turning only to stick his tongue out at the magically warded door, Toil jumped across the room, rolled across the ground and came up beside the bespelled door that no one could bypass and none had the key for. "Wizards, Mr. Small, have a blind spot."

Rubeus watched the house-elf pull out a little right-angled piece of metal and what looked like a tiny knife. "Oh?"

"A locked door that is so bespelled that no wizard could bypass it. The key is not kept within Azkaban. It is only opened when someone is brought here." Toil worked the little hook and wrench in the lock. "But wizards, being wizards, don't think as to someone clever with nimble fingers…"

The lock clicked, and Toil turned the wrench in the keyway.

"… Knowing muggle tricks." Toil kicked the door open, turned, and took a bow. "You see, a puppy dog told me a secret. A special, super-duper secret that shouldn't be breathed aloud for fear that someone would hear it."

"But yer gonna." Rubeus pulled the door to the corridor closed and locked it. "Aincha?"

"An umbrella is such a simple thing. Made of wood and cloth and metal. But what if it were made of special wood?" Toil led the way into the storage room. "What if that special wood was magically made from the remnants of some very special wood." Stretching one hand out, Toil tickled his fingers along the storage boxes. "What if that special wood had something special inside—" His hand started to grasp at something, only to find a mountain looming over him.

"Ah think ah know this secret. It's a goodun." Rubeus' fingers closed around the shaft of his umbrella. Magic thrummed through Rubeus Hagrid's fingers, hand, and arm. "We're leavin' now?"

"Oh no! No, no, no! We need magic to call the puppy's ride! Yes we do! Now we have the magic, but the ride takes time." Toil's fingers explored the various nearby boxes and drew things from them. A firework here. A vial of something interesting there. When Toil's fingers closed around a little knife, he paused and smiled wide. "Oh, this is a wonderful day."

Rubeus didn't like the look on Toil's face, but he was so happy to have his umbrella that he didn't care. "So what're we gotta do? You said t' call a ride?"

"Yes, yes! A ride. But not the bus, bus can't drive on water… for long. No! We need a ride that flies." Toil slipped the dagger into his clothing and walked up to take Rubeus' finger once more. "You need to call the ride that growls. The ride that breathes. The ride that—" Shaking his head, Toil sighed. "Sirius' motorbike. Call it. When it arrives, we break out."

"Well now, you can speak proper!" Holding up his umbrella, Rubeus channeled magic through it and focused on the motorbike he'd borrowed years previous. There was a tenuous answer to his summons—the bike was a long way away in Scotland, and it had several days travel ahead of it. "There we go. Now I just pop this back?"

"No! Keep it. Hide it. We'll need it!" Toil reached up and unlocked the door, then peeked out. "No guards. Come on."

"But how'll I keep—Right, quiet." On the way back to his cell, Rubeus carried the door under one arm and his umbrella in his hand. The feel of having magic again made him want to shout and cheer, though he managed to suppress those desires. His mind raced to figure out a way to hide the umbrella.

Toil guided Rubeus back to his cell and gestured for him to go in.

"What'm I meant t' do with the door?" As he spoke, Rubeus tried to press it back into place with limited success. The door seemed to sit in the hole it had formerly been attached to, but he knew one good thump and it'd fall out and then they'd move him… again. It'd only been nine days and this was his third cell.

"Just lie. The guards won't care and neither should you." Walking away, Toil looked back over his shoulder to see Rubeus tuck the umbrella up the back of his coat. Just then he heard movement to his right and turned to see a guard walking toward him. "Finally! Wet floor! Guard fall down! Sleepy-sleep on the job!"

Author's Notes:

Harry: If Luna transformed from a girl to a guy, do you think you could transform from a boy to a girl?

"I'm really done with all this transfiguration, thank you very much!If there's a contest, and the prize is anything I want, and all I had to do was go through all this again, I'd sleep in." Harry lifted one hoof to his chin. "Now there's a thought. I could spend all weekend sleeping, hibernating like a snake!"

"I like this idea, Harry Potter."

Harry gasped. "Addera! You're not meant to be in these author notes."

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Sirion123

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"Harry! Addera! Wake up! Somethin' strange's going on!"

My head felt thick and full of cotton wool. Wrapped up in Addera's coils again, I didn't even bother trying to get loose and heed Fred—or was it George's—call. I tucked my snout down into the warmth of Addera's coils and tried to dive back into the dream I'd been having.

Addera didn't even twitch her tail, for which I was thankful. "What is it? We're trying to sleep."

"A bunch of new ponies have arrived. Most of them are soldiers, but there's one—I think she's some kind of leader! Wings and a 'orn! George is trying to catch a peek at them at the front gate." So it was definitely Fred.

My brain discarded most of his words. Ponies—check. It wasn't until my thoughts got toward the meat of his words that some little voice in my head told me this was important. I lifted my head, only to have one of Addera's hooves brush one ear. "Are they more of the crystal ponies?"

"No! That's the thing! They're horse-ponies. Err, flesh and blood that is. And you don't even want to know how much magic is dripping off them." Fred made some nonverbal noises, and I could hear Ron stirring. "But if you don't care to see the awesome real ponies from wherever this land is…"

—We should get up, shouldn't we?— I asked Addera in parseltongue.

Addera's hoof seemed to be busy with my ear, though the rubbing wasn't quite as good as what a hand could do. —I doubt we'd be able to talk to them, Harry Potter, but we can very likely see them.—

Despite the ear rubbing quality being below the level of what hands could dish out, I found myself relaxing more. "More sleep would be good, though."

My choice was made for me when Addera began to slither and uncoil herself. Even my whine didn't get her to stop, and soon enough I was dumped on the floor. "You need to wash, Harry potter."

"Yeah, yeah." Stumbling through to the bathroom, I began the longer-than-usual task of washing myself. The advantage was there was a lot less of me to wash. The disadvantage was that almost every inch was fur, and under all the fur was scales—not flesh.

Cleaning was easy. The heaviest scrubbing brush we had made no marks on my scales, and my fur somehow seemed as tough as my scales. A Locomotion charm on the soap and another on what used to be a stiff broom and I got to work.

By the time I was done, I must have weighed nearly twice as much as normal thanks to the water in my fur. Rearing up, I managed to turn the taps off and then had to contend with drying off.

Getting angry would do the trick, but there was no guarantee that I wouldn't burn the tiles, the taps, and create some kind of explosion with all the water. Then another thought hit me. "Am I fireproof to regular fire?"

The test was simple. I turned the cold tap of the shower on again (because unlike wizards, I could learn sane things), and tried to set my hoof on fire. "In-sen-dee-o!"

What should have been a little pop of fire gleefully fed on my magic and caused a blast furnace burst of blue and red fire that enveloped my hoof. The first thing to register was that this was the same kind of fire I burned with when I got angry, and the second thing to register was that it didn't hurt at all. In fact, my hoof was fine.

I giggled at the sight of my untouched limb. "This is perfect! In-sen-dee-o!"

In hindsight, using a Fire-Making charm as a blow-drier was a very wizard thing to do, but it worked. It only took seconds under the intense heat of my weakest fire spell to dry myself off completely.

The weakest fire spell, however, left big scorch marks on the wall and looked like it wanted to do more. Okay, that was easy to fix. "Skur-ji-fy!" Learning that one from Hermione had been worth every second. The magic rushed to do my bidding and left the wall sparkling.

I groaned. There was now an amazingly clean section of shower.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Neville had walked into the shower and had caught me cleaning the walls. All the walls.

"Cleaning. No one else will do it." I finished getting the last of the shared shower wall clean and started walking for the exit.

Neville looked from me to the sparkling clean shower. "But why?"

"Have you ever looked at something really rusty, or really dirty, and cleaned just one bit of it, Neville?"

"But why'd you clean any of it?"

"I had to clean away the burn marks." It was the most natural thing to say, and also the most wizard thing to say. Being at Hogwarts meant I'd get away with it. "Do you want to know why I left burn marks in the shower? I had to dry myself off."

With that said, I turned back to the exit and walked from the shower as if setting myself on fire was now a perfectly normal thing to do. The voice of all wizardom in my head was perfectly satisfied with that, and judged it sensibly handled. My common sense sparked up and told me I should have just cast the Scouring charm on myself.

Was that the solution I was missing all this time? The honest answer to all my worries that I was turning into a wizard, was to apply more magic with a liberal helping of common sense?

I thought about it more as I walked back to the dorm room I shared. When I walked in, Ron and Addera were hissing softly to each other, Dean was pulling on his shoes, and Seamus was writing in his journal.

Walking to my bed, I jumped up and had to dig around under the covers to find Ginny's diary. A quick pair of Locomotion charms later and I opened her diary and started to write.

Was that—

As if my writing woke her, words started appearing before I'd even gotten to ask my question.

That was so much energy! Harry, that was amazing! I could feel you all night!

I'm glad. Something strange has happened. George said a bunch of new ponies have arrived, and they look like they are better organized than the ones we rescued. We're going to go and try to get a look at them.

Good luck. I'll try to work out how to do this apparition stuff while you're doing that. Hopefully I'll see you later.

I closed the diary and hugged it to me. I'd been there when Ginny had gotten stuck in the diary, and I'd be there when she got free of it. I tried to channel my hopes and dreams into the book, as if to feed it and give her more freedom in the meantime.

Then something occurred to me. "What if these ponies know about King Sombra? What if they know how to free Ginny and get her body back?"

Ron lifted his head and looked past Addera. "What?"

"I mean, what if they know something we don't? We have to ask them about him!" I used my teeth to grab Addera's backpack and pull it on my own back. A little work with the straps and I had them over my shoulders well enough that I could carry the thing, only for Addera to slither over and impose herself between me and the door. "Addera?"

"There's a reason, Harry Potter, that I accepted the burden of carrying your things." She held a hoof out toward me. "The backpack, Harry Potter, is not immune to your flames."

The great Harry Potter, Wizard of Common Sense… had none. Grumbling, I slipped my forelegs out of the straps and offered Addera the backpack. "I think I need to find somewhere to be angry again."

"Urgently, Harry Potter?" Addera's hoof reached casually up to her face. I knew what she was ready to do, and I appreciated it.

"No, not urgent, but I feel it like a building pressure." Speaking about it, like using the bathroom or yawning, seemed to make the pressure worse. I bit my lower lip. "It might be a little urgent."

Addera scooped me up with one leg and slithered out of our dorm. For a moment I wondered where she was taking me, when she entered the common room. It might be impossible for me to get angry at Addera, but if I thought about anything else, it brought with it a hint of anger.

My hooves were suddenly back under me, and I blinked a few times at how quickly Addera had moved across the hall. I looked down to see flames licking the underside of my belly, then looked back toward Addera—and outside the fireplace. "Thank you, Adde—"

It became too much. I clenched my teeth closed and felt the flames under me join new fire pouring from my body. Stomping angrily on the wood that had been burning, I felt it give with satisfaction under my own fire.

"Just let it out, Harry Potter." Addera didn't need to uncover her eyes and I didn't need to be under her spell to follow her advice. Blue-purple flames dripped off me and sent heat pouring into the stones of the fireplace.

I turned to look at Addera, and saw her remove her glasses and look at me. She did have pretty eyes, but I didn't feel the same bewitchment come over me as normal. The fireplace was too small for me to pace, but I did manage to stomp my hooves around a little.

"You're not under my control, Harry Potter!" Addera sounded quite happy with herself. She reached up and put her glasses back on. "Are you almost done?"

"No!" I stomped a hoof on the old iron grate in the fireplace and wasn't prepared for my leg going through it. I looked down in surprise and tried to step back from the iron that had apparently just melted under my hoof. "Whoops."

"'Er, Harry, are you alright?" George sat down in a couch not too far away and watched me. "Did you just melt the iron grate in there?"

I looked at George, then down the leash he held to the creature that'd been walking at his side. The lizard looked yellow-red, and had slightly glowing flesh. Where it sat, the wood smoldered slowly.

"Is that—? Is that a salamander?" It was hard to focus too long on anything or I expected I'd get angry at it. I looked from the creature and up to George. "Why've you got a salamander?"

"Well, it didn't feel right just letting him die, not after what we put 'im through. Just gotta give him a bit of pepper before walks, and he knows not to set things on fire, don't you Ember?" George reached down from the side of the couch and ran a finger under the salamander's throat.

The sight of him quickly pulling his hand away before he got burned, and the pleased look on the salamander's face, was so startling and off-beat that I lost track of my anger and it fizzled out.

The pressure was gone. My urge to burn things was sated with a few minutes of angry stomping. Gingerly climbing out of the fireplace—mostly to avoid getting dirty again—I walked over to George and his pet. "You called him Ember?"

"Yeah, hey, careful! He'll burn—" George cut off as I started tickling the salamander under the chin, then turned it to a full head scratch. "Right. Of course fire doesn't hurt you. Silly me to think the great and powerful Harry Potter would be inconvenienced by a little thing like fire."

"It comes with being a wizard," I said.

"Alright, Mr. Wizard, are you ready to go and gawk at the 'orses?" George stood up and led Ember to the hall that led out of Gryffindor tower.

Walking after him, I expected Addera to follow and wasn't disappointed when she was right beside me. In just three days—almost four now—she'd gone from a monster to one of the more stable parts of my life.

"You're smiling a lot, Harry Potter." Addera's voice was more her own than ever, and I could definitely pick up a hint of curiosity in it.

"Well, I was just thinking about how you are a stable part of my life now, but you want to know the most stable?" I asked.

Addera nodded.

I tried not to giggle as I said, "My bedroom."

"Good one, 'arry!" George opened the painting outward and nearly walked into Hermione. "Are they still out there?"

"Yes, but McGonagall is getting ready to head out and talk to them. What took you so long?" Hermione jumped aside at the sight of a salamander scorching footprints onto the stone floor.

"Harry had to have a bath, then a steam—in that order—and finally he put on his frilliest dress. 'Ell be the bell o' the ball for sure." George tugged on the leash, leading the way with Ember at his side.

"Where's Fred?" Addera asked.

"He's keeping an eye on the front door. Couldn't get him or Alicia away from it." Hermione fell in beside Addera and me, and we started after George. "Ron?"

I looked back to see Ron leading Dean and Seamus. "Decided to come?"

"Woulda been nice if you'd told us you were leavin'!" Ron said as he reached us.

"I was trying to avoid setting Hogwarts on fire at the time. Sorry, Ron." Then I noticed he was holding the slightly scorched pieces of his old wand in his hand. "What're you doing with that?"

"It saved our lives once. I thought it could do it again. So the way I figger it, I make it look like the broken wand is intact and leave its handle exposed. That way, if anyone tries to steal it and use it on us, kablammo!" Ron looked proud of his logic, and given how well the wand had screwed up his own spells and Lockheart's spell, he had every right to be proud.

George looked back at his brother with a surprised expression. "Here, that's right clever that is. Fancy a Weasley not just being smart, but bein' tricky-smart."

The further down we walked, the more students that seemed to be milling around talking. We reached the main hall just as the front doors opened to reveal McGonagall, Dumbledore, and just two of the pony people.

I cast a hurried Locomotion charm on the shard of scrying mirror I knew was in Addera's backpack and floated it out to look through.

Both the ponies were big (compared to me at least). The white one with electric-blue mane and tail looked amazing. He (he was definitely a he with how he walked and looked) had armor on that made him look like some kind of Roman soldier's horse, except for a glaring thing missing—no saddle.

The pink one was so pink it was almost impossible to think of her as anything but female. She looked regal, with a slim tiara on her red/gold/purple maned head. The way she walked was different to the male (should I call him a stallion?), she didn't grind each hoof down, but walked daintily—almost a prance.

What really got my attention was that both of them had horns as long as my head, and the female had wings too. Apart from the fact they looked vaguely horse-like, they didn't seem to act anything like horses.

"No wonder Tourmaline called you a not-unicorn," Hermione said. "You look nothing like that."

Getting close enough to them to ask about Ginny and Sombra would be impossible, but the inkling of an idea started to form. I turned away from the pair as McGonagall led them into one of the meeting rooms. "We need to get outside. Everyone'll be so distracted by those two that the rest will be practically deserted."

"If we go out the front door, everyone will see us. We need to use another exit," Hermione said.

Everyone looked at George.

"Oh, that's just great. You think that just because of who I am, I'd have a sneaky way out of the castle that no one else—except Fred—knows about?" He looked disappointed he didn't get a single groan. George turned around. "Follow me."

The way out turned out to be from a tunnel in the basement, hidden behind a few big round barrels, and then through a damp cave that let out of a tiny entrance near the lake. Fred and Alicia were waiting just outside the entrance looking entirely too happy.

"Ah! Finally worked it out, eh? Glad you could join us," Fred said as he helped us out of the cave.

George grinned at his twin. "Well, I didn't want to give too much away. 'Arry was the one who figured out the plan, but our Ron is starting to get particularly tricky."

Rounding on his younger brother, Fred looked at Ron critically. "Blimey. Anyone'd think he's a Weasley."

Chuckling at the twins' antics, Alicia gestured along the lakeshore to the other side of the viaduct. "They're waiting up there. We looked for a way up, and found one on the left side of the viaduct."

Fred slipped in beside Ron as we walked past the pylons that held up the viaduct above. "How's me old bat holdin' up? Cracked any skulls with it?"

"Just the one so far. Someone was sneakin' up on Harry." Ron sounded pleased about his efforts so far with the bat, and I couldn't exactly say he hadn't earned it. "Now I got a new idea, but I can't tell everyone or it'll be useless."

"What is it?" Fred asked.

Ron went on to describe his broken wand idea, and the pair worked on a few nitty-gritty parts until we had to start climbing the steep slope toward where the ponies were.

Addera proved to be the best climber of the bunch of us, and I was thankful she grabbed me up in a hug before slithering up. Just behind us, surprisingly, was Hermione. Ron, George, Fred, and finally Alicia brought up the rear.

"… heard the captain, we hold here. These are some strange creatures, but they're a school. I don't want anypony to go hurting anyone or I'll have your oats for a week," a commanding voice said from the top.

—Should we go all the way up now, Harry Potter?— Addera's voice was very low, quieter than she could speak English.

Then it hit me—the creatures above spoke perfect English! I shook my head. "We might as well go up. Try not to remove your glasses."

To my surprise, Addera pressed her snout to the back of my neck in what felt a little like a kiss, and slithered us to the top of the rise.

"Whoa! Hold on. What did I just say? Look at the size of the little one." The same voice from earlier apparently belonged to a big white unicorn that looked similar to the one in the castle, but his helmet plume was a little smaller. "You're Royal Guard of the E.U.P., act like it."

"Err, hi!" I said as Addera put me down. "My name's Harry Potter."

The big pony looked at me with amazement, but I quickly realized it was mostly for my friends reaching the top of the rise behind me. "Keen, Flag! How about you take a new assignment?"

Two new ponies, neither of them big like the others, walked over. "Sir?" both asked.

"Your new assignment is interspecies relations."

These two ponies looked different. The unicorn had a more off-white fur than the others, but his yellow mane and tail were bright as could be. The pegasus was a study of darker shades. A black mane and tail were the highlights to her dark-blue fur.

"Hi there, I'm Flagessio, but you can call me Laggie. This is Keen Eyes." Flagessio said, gesturing to the off-white stallion with one wing. "What're your names?"

We each said our names, introducing ourselves like this was the most normal thing in the world. But then, I'd introduced myself to a phoenix, a basilisk, and plenty of other creatures.

When all my friends looked at me, I realized I was apparently going to be the spokesman. "So, one of my friends got caught up with some bad stuff, and someone stole her body. Do you know who King Sombra is?"

Apparently I wasn't likely to ask something that would get a greater reaction. Flagessio and Keen both froze and stared at me as if I'd grown more horns and bigger fangs. "Lieutenant Star? You're probably going to want to listen to this," Flagessio said. When the big unicorn walked back over, Flagessio gestured to me. "Say that again, please?"

"I was trying to save a friend in some caves under Hogwarts, that's our school, and when Vold—when the person I was saving her from did something and got into her mind. Well, King Sombra was already in there, and when he shoved us all out, he left with my friend's body." I looked between the now stunned Lieutenant Star and Flagessio. "Do you know how I can help my friend?"

Star's horn started to glow, and I felt what seemed to be a hurricane of magic pour into him. A scroll appeared in midair, followed by a quill. "Flagessio, you need to take this to Princess Cadance and Captain Armor. I don't care how you get in there, just don't hurt anypony."

Flagessio took the scroll when the quill was done with it, using her wing to catch it from the storm of magic that raged mere feet from my face. Feathers should not be able to do what hers did, but that was far less interesting than the interest she started paying us. "How would you all like to come with me? You can tell everyone I'm just bringing a message."

I barely caught Star saying "clever" when Ron shoved his way to the front of the group.

"Come with us. We'll make sure the teachers don't bother you." Walking toward the viaduct, Ron looked like a man with a mission, probably because he did have one. His action was catching, and we started to move after him—Flagessio at our side.

I looked up at the mare as we walked beside her. "What was so important about him?"

"Star Flare?" Flagessio asked.

"N-No. King Sombra. Is he a real king or something?"

"Yes and no. He took over a nation far to the north of ours a thousand years ago. When our princesses went to challenge him, he ripped his whole city into the void to escape them." She had a very nice voice, sounding Italian. "We spotted your school, and thought it might be him returning."

We were about halfway across the viaduct. "Is that why you sent soldiers?" I asked.

"Yes and no. If he's back, there'll be a war." Flagessio's words made a shiver run up my spine. War, as a word, had a lot of meaning for the people of the United Kingdom, let alone wizardkind. As dense and stupid as the Dursleys were, even they had immediate relatives who'd lived in the last world war.

"He came with us, we're sure of it. There's been crystal ponies wearing these strange helmets attacking Dumbledore's wards. We managed to get some free, but I don't know what they said after that. No one tells me anything unless I land in the thick of it." I was aware of the others speaking—mostly George and Fred discussing the quickest way to get to the meeting room we'd seen McGonagall lead the visitors.

Flagessio smiled and looked down at me. "I imagine you land in the thick of it a lot?"

"You would not believe." Hermione, who'd been clopping along beside me, looked over the top of me at Flagessio.

"Are you the descendants of the crystal ponies?" Flagessio asked.

"I don't think so? At least, both my parents were just normal people. We're still trying to work out why I turned into this, when others turned into other things. One of the teachers, Madam Hooch, turned all the way into a crystal pegasus, but Harry here turned into something else entirely." Hermione had engaged problem-solving-mode, as was evidenced by her excitement. Next thing I expected her to do was ask if she could— "Can I feel your feathers?"

"Hermione," I said, "It might not be—"

Flagessio cut me short with a little laugh. "It's alright. Just don't go pulling any feathers out, I'm a little attached to them." She stretched one of her wings over my back and to Hermione.

The distraction made me look up and lose track of my hooves. Stumbling, I stumbled a few steps before Addera grabbed me out of what was about to be a fall. "Th-Thanks Addera."

"You're probably right about not being descendants of the crystal ponies. I guess if you were, you'd all become crystal ponies." Flagessio kept her wing out for Hermione until we reached the front door of Hogwarts. "Okay, where to from here?"

Students were crowded around the meeting room, and there seemed no way to reach it until Ron, Fred, and George shoved forward (the latter having given Ember's leash to Alicia. "Make way! Come on, you lot, get out of the way. We 'ave a messenger who needs t' get through! Make way!" Fred said, and his brothers took up the call.

Of course, the three of them shouting got people to move aside, but it also drew their attention to us. Addera moved to one side of Flagessio, Alicia took the other, and Hermione brought up the rear. We were like an arrow streaking through the crowd—until we reached our target.

Lucian Bole and Penelope Clearwater stood at each side of the door and seemed to be doing a good job of keeping the crowd from pushing right up to it.

"Alright, what's goin' on?" Lucian had a few inches of height over even George and Fred.

I was about to push my way past the legs of everyone when Flagessio herself stepped forward—using her mass more than anything else to make a path. "I have a message I must deliver to the princess."

Penelope looked at Lucian, who was looking back at her, and they both kinda shrugged, then gave Flagessio room to reach the door. She lifted a hoof and knocked three times.

Dumbledore opened the door a few moments later. His expressions started at mildly reproving, but changed the moment he saw Flagessio. "Your Highnesses, I believe you have a message."

There was a thrumming sense of magic in the room. It was like when a power line messes up and makes the air all staticy, or like when you get a thunderstorm without any rain. There was a lot of magic in the air—and it was constant.

"Sergeant Flagessio?" The big white stallion had been sitting on a seat at the table inside, but he got to his hooves and walked over. "Come in and report."

"It's more what this young colt needs to report, sir, and this letter." Flagessio extended her wing, the scroll extended. "Harry Potter? Come on."

Another torrent of magic, this time a greater rush than the one that the soldier pony had used, poured from the stallion's horn. I felt dwarfed and tiny by comparison.

Okay, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I wanted to see the ponies and ask them about King Sombra, but I could hardly argue with about half the school watching. At Flagessio's side, I marched into the room while Dumbledore closed the door behind us.

"This colt has seen King Sombra." The way Flagessio said it implied that there was something important about the fact. Everyone in the room looked at me expectantly, even McGonagall.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, seeing as I'm the most junior here," he said with a knowing smile, "I'll do the introductions. Harry Potter, Miss Flagessio, our headmistress is Minerva McGonagall, this is Captain Shining Armor, Princess Cadance, and my name is Professor Albus Dumbledore."

I felt a mild panic set in. Technically I'd sided with Sombra against Voldemort. Sombra seemed to be this world's version of Voldemort. McGonagall and Dumbledore would know if I lied. So I told the whole story, starting with me entering the Chamber of Secrets.

When I reached the part about siding with Sombra against Voldemort, all three ponies gasped.

"You understand—" McGonagall cut in before anyone else could speak, "—that Harry had no knowledge of this Sombra. He acted in the moment to save the life of his friend."

Princess Cadance shook her head in obvious denial. "Of course we wouldn't blame him for this. Sombra is to blame for all Sombra does. If a colt inadvertently helps him, it's not the colt's fault." She spared me an encouraging smile. "Please continue, Harry."

I continued, explaining about Ginny being stuck in the diary, making friends with Addera, and our escape from the Chamber of Secrets.

"That sounds consistent with what we know of Sombra, though our information is a little out of date." As Cadance spoke, I looked at her and realized that the huge magic spell I could feel casting was coming from her. Ponies were just a little scary.

The flood of magic came back from Shining Armor as he began writing a reply on the bottom of the scroll. "Take this back to Lieutenant Star, Flagessio."

"Thank you, Harry. Please escort Miss Flagessio back across the viaduct," McGonagall said.

I wanted to hang around, but could see she wanted me out of the room. I turned around and looked at the door. Now I suddenly wished I had spent time working on the door charm Hermione had taught to Addera. I was saved when Flagessio reached her wing out, grasped the handle with the tips of her feathers, and worked the door handle. Once again I was amazed by what she could do with her feathers.

"Come on, Harry. Hopefully your friends are still waiting outside." Flagessio pulled the door open to reveal that they were still there, and seemed to engaged in a staring contest of some kind with Lucian and Penelope.

"Harry!" my friends shouted.

Hermione managed to jump in and continue speaking before anyone else had a chance. "Harry! I felt an awful lot of magic being cast, and then George said maybe they were undoing your transfiguration, and we—"

"Can you escort me back to the camp now?" Flagessio asked, cutting into the conversation.

"Absolutely!" George and Fred said together. As one, they turned back to the crowd. "Make way!" "Move it!" "Clear a path!" Ron joined them after a moment, and together they cut their way through the crowd of students and got us all outside.

"What happened, Harry?" Alicia asked once we were out of the crowd.

"They just wanted to know what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. All of it." I glanced at Flagessio, then to Ron. "I told them everything." At last my eyes settled on Addera.

Ron looked incredulous. "What? All of it? Even what we weren't meant to—"

Fred punched his little brother in the arm. "Ron, if you wasn't meant to say it, don't say it now."

"Yeah," George said cheerfully. "Tell us later."

"Flagessio, when you bend your feathers like you were on the door handle, how'd you do that?" The question had been burning me up inside (not literally) and I just had to know the answer.

"Like this?" Extending her wing closest to me, Flagessio bent her feathers into a good approximation of a human hand. "All pegasi can do it. Haven't seen enough of griffons to know if they can do it too."

"You have griffons here? This is practically just like home! Well, except that all our magic is messed up and makin' it hard to talk." Fred looked at Hermione and winked to her as if they both knew a secret.

Hermione didn't realize that Fred was setting her up. "What do you mean? It hasn't made it any harder to talk."

George elbowed Fred. "Are you sure? A lot of people seem to be a little 'orse."

I couldn't help giggling at the joke even though it was an obvious and terrible one.

Flagessio wasn't laughing. After a few moments, to give us a chance to stop laughing, she asked, "Hold on. You said you do magic?"

"Yeah," I said. "I've seen ponies do magic. Is there something about unicorns that makes theirs really powerful?"

"Well, there are two kinds of magic, really. There's the mundane stuff—affecting clouds and weather for pegasi, helping plants grow as earth ponies—then there's big magic. Unicorns and alicorns do that. You've got a horn, so you can do unicorn magic, right?" Flagessio asked.

"Well, we do real magic, but we don't need a horn to do it." Ron pulled out his actual wand (the willow one his brother had made). "We use wands. Harry's no normal unicorn, though. Can unicorns set themselves on fire?"

"Surprisingly, they don't do it all that often. I've seen cadets set fire to each other before." Flagessio's voice still had a very Italian lilt to it that sounded so strange coming from a pony.

"Wait, you're in the military?" Ron asked.

Flagessio nodded in reply. "I'm a member of the E.U.P. Guard's Scout Corps. I'm the fastest long-distance flier in all Equestria. I even outflew a Wonderbolt in a straight line." By her big grin and boastful tone I had to assume a Wonderbolt was something amazing.

"Harry here flies like the wind, don't you Harry? I bet he could outfly you," Ron said.

Leaning over me, looking intently, Flagessio shook her head. "I've seen some unicorns float around with their magic, but to fly fast you need wings."

"Or a broom," Alicia said. "You're looking at half the Gryffindor quidditch team here. We all fly!"

"I don't." Addera seemed most adamant, her tone firm. "I think I would hate not being able to touch the ground."

Flagessio snorted. "Well, I still can't see how you'd fly with a broom. Is it magical at least?"

"Yes and no." When Hermione spoke up, she surprised me. Of everyone present, she was the worst flier (who'd ever been on a broom). "The brooms are made of magically-imbued components, but it takes a lot of skill to ride one properly."

"When things get settled down, we'll have to have a bit of a contest. I know they mostly sent unicorn Royal Guard with us, but I'm sure one of their pegasi would enjoy stretching his wings." We were almost at the other side of the viaduct again, and Flagessio waved a hoof at the guard ponies waiting for us.

"Royal Guard?" Ron asked. "I heard one of 'em say princess before. Is that pink pony with the wings and the horn a princess?"

"Yup! Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, but don't let her hear you calling her anything but Princess Cadance. She's the princess of love, and has been the first we've seen except for Princess Celestia and Princess Luna in a while. When Keen and I reported the return of the Crystal Empire to Princess Celestia, she send Princess Cadance to deal with it." Flagessio was still talking as we reached the end of the viaduct. "And her husband, Captain Shining Armor."

"Sergeant Flagessio! Report!" Lieutenant Star wasn't standing far away, but his shout could probably have been heard all the way back in Hogwarts.

"Sir!" Flagessio's relaxed walking and easy tone was gone. "Message delivered, sir! Captain Shining Armor's reply!" She flicked out her wing, producing the scroll. Nothing could have marked her more as military than the way she responded—it was like in the movies!

Ginevra Weasley had control of her body still, though she could feel Sombra stirring. She didn't care about him for now. What concerned Ginny was her brother—shivering—pressed to her side. "You have to go back, Percy. You have to."

"N-No. I can't. He called me here. You don't know what it's like, Ginny. When he calls, I have to answer." Despite his words, Percy Weasley felt wretched. There was a gentle dusting of snow on the ground, and the cold ate into him.

He would die at my side if I ordered him, Sombra whispered in Ginny's head. He won't be able to stand again unless I tell him he can.

The voice startled Ginny. She jerked her head up and her ears twitched to seek the sound they hadn't heard. "You can save him."

Like you saved me? The touch of that hated magic burned both of us, Ginevra, but you protected me as much as yourself. Stirring more in the girl's head, Sombra easily flipped things around and was once more in control. "I reward those who are loyal to me."

Percy's head jerked up at the different tone of voice from his sister's mouth. No, not his sister's mouth—his master's mouth. "M-Master?"

"You will die out here. For all the service you gave to me, you would die merely for not hearing me give you permission to seek shelter." Sombra reached a hoof out and touched the cold flesh of Percy's face.

Help him! Ginny shouted into her own mind.

I intend to. Sombra began to twist and coil magic up. Funneling it, he fashioned a crude spell that wouldn't affect Percy, rather than redirect any other magic around him. "Cast a spell, Percy Ignatius Weasley."

Reaching into his robe, Percy drew his wand out. Magic potential gathered within him, poured around him, and focused into the short length of his wand. "W-W-What spell?"

"Something… hot."

The Fire-Making charm sprang to mind, and Percy cast it with both fear and hope in his heart. A plume of fire leapt from his wand with orange and red spurts, shooting to the cold wet log beside him.

The feel of soft fur sprouting out of his skin was a surprise, but the warmth it began to trap against his body was welcome. It took some extra magic to ensure the fire took, which also gave Percy a pair of pony ears and a tail.

After several minutes during which Percy's only thoughts were on regaining the warmth his exposure had cost him, he finally felt his thoughts collect. "What's he doing to me, Ginny?"

Your continued survival has proved useful. You have protected my interests, even helped me. You may speak with your brother. King Sombra knew when to admit something was fortuitous. He allowed Ginny only control of his head. This is his reward, Ginevra.

Gazing into her brother's eyes, Ginny could see the color of them had brightened from his normal pale blue to something more vibrant. There was also a slow swirling pattern in the color that was unmistakable. "He says it's a reward. He did something to change how you transform." Ginny fumbled for the words she could tell her brother to reassure him that everything would be okay, but she couldn't find any because she didn't think they would be. "Percy?"

"Yeah, Ginny?"

"I love you, big brother." No sooner were the words out than Ginny felt her ability to talk revoked. Thank you. Despite everything else—thank you for letting me talk to him.

"I love you too, Ginny."

"Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin: Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five time winner of—" Shaking his head, the man snapped the book closed. "I was a right git."

"Language, please." Poppy scowled at her patient. "This is a school, and I won't have you using such words. Now, normally it's suggested that a patient suffering from a malformed Memory charm be given things to remind them of who they are."

"You said that already, Miss Pomfrey, but this doesn't feel real to me." Gilderoy tossed the book onto the side table. "Everything feels wrong about it, like this was someone who'd already been Memory charmed, as you called it. Magic being real I can get behind, but this foppish idiot—?"

"You were right the first time," Poppy said. "You were a git. Why, there was a young boy who broke his arm. It would have taken a simple spell to fix it all up."

"What'd he—" Gilderoy pointed at the book, "—do?"

"Removed all the bones from the lad's arm. Took all night to regrow them, and you can bet it hurt him." Poppy didn't exactly have a thing for schadenfreude, but seeing Gilderoy wince at the idea for causing Harry Potter pain was cathartic. "But, you've been given a chance.

"I won't lie. The likelihood of you getting your full memory back is not good. You may recover bits and pieces, but from what I was told your old self was trying to wipe the minds of two children. Consider this a chance to begin anew."

Gilderoy shook his head. "No—no that's not enough. You're right on one point, I must turn this blighter's work around and make up for his misdeeds. Just remaking myself won't do. Can I assist you, Miss Pomfrey?"

Poppy wasn't a woman to be gentle with a grown man's ego. "Let me see. Do I have a use for someone who can't do a lick of magic and has no knowledge of medicine?"

"Then I need to find someone who can find a use for me. What was the name of that nice lady from earlier?" Gilderoy asked.

"Headmistress McGonagall. I believe she's busy this morning. You could, perhaps, ask to make an appointment with her. I'd suggest being on your best behavior, she suffers fools not one bit." Busying herself straightening the beds, Poppy looked back at her patient. "Though she might appreciate you opening with an apology."

Author's Notes:

Princess Cadance: What is you plan with the seemingly not-crystal em...castle?

"Given there are people living in it, I am unsure. Our plan was to infiltrate Sombra's castle and take him by surprise, but the plan has definitely hit a snag. One thing's for certain, they seem to bear almost as much dislike for Sombra as we do. Now if we can just find him and deal with him."

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Lessons Learned

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"But magic shouldn't work like that. It requires firm rules before it does anything. You need a wand, you need words, you need a pattern, and you need intent before you can do anything like that!" Hermione was actually panting by the end of her tirade. "Magic just doesn't work like—"

Keen Eyes cut Hermione short with the best trick ever, he just used his horn to pick up the mug of coffee he had with him. "Like this?" He took what looked like a satisfied sip.

"Like that. It doesn't make sense." Hermione looked both confused and deeply interested. "Magic could theoretically work like that, but you'd need so much that there'd be no finesse with it. No one has that much magic."

"Uh, Hermione?" Ron asked. When Hermione turned to him, Ron smiled and pointed at Keen Eyes. "It seems to work for him."

Anyone who didn't know Hermione as well as Ron and I did might think she looked defeated. She seemed to shrink in on herself and closed her eyes for a few moments. "This means that something here is different."

"You mean like us not being on Earth?" I asked her.

Hermione shook her head. "No. That's not enough. Our magic still works here, so the rules that govern our magic are the same. But somehow he's just—"

"Doing magic," I said.

"Yes! No. I can feel the flow of magic he's using in my horn, and there's a lot of it, but that can't be all it takes or I'd be able to do it too." With a sigh, Hermione reached into her robes and pulled out a notepad and one of her slightly illicit ballpoint pens.

"She's one of those kinds of unicorns, isn't she?" Keen Eyes asked.

Hermione's head shot up from her page. "Those kinds?"

"Everything has to make sense, magic obsessed, studious… That type."

"Oh." Her head dipping back down, Hermione seemed completely distracted by her writing again.

"So," I said, "Can you show us how it works? Your horn magic I mean. I've been casting spells with my horn, but that looks way easier than casting Locomotion charms on everything I own."

"Well, as a foal, the first step was to pretty much push magic out our horn. Mostly we made a bunch of sparks, but eventually you could get a good and steady glow." Keen Eyes just shrugged as if it was all self-explanatory. "They make a lot of messes, mind you. I don't know if you have had a power surge, but when I was a foal I turned our house into a giant apple."

"You turned a house into an apple?" Fred asked. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

George and Ron suddenly looked panicked, but Keen Eyes held up a hoof as if to calm them. "That's just losing control of things as a foal. I could never do anything like that now." He turned his attention back to Hermione. "Why don't you try using your horn?"

Hermione's head jerked up. "What, now?"

Fred's face split into a grin so wide I could see it easily even if I wasn't using my mirror shard. "Go on, Hermione, give it a try!"

"Harry, tell me this is a terrible idea." Hermione tucked her notebook back into her robe and the pen after it. "Because I think I might try it."

"It's probably a bad idea, but you'd be the first witch or wizard to do this kind of magic." I shrugged my shoulders at my complete inability to find this a terrible thing like she wanted. "So, uh, good luck?"

Turning and looking down, Hermione had an excited smile on her face that told me it was probably time to stand back.

"Has anyone ever been hurt by this?" I asked.

"Not that I know of. It's fairly common for foals to start working on their magic when they're about ten or so. Before then it's kinda hit or miss." As if he didn't believe his own words, Keen Eyes stepped back a few paces. "Just focus on your horn and push as hard as you can with your magic!"

Fred was the only one who didn't jump back a few steps, he seemed especially excited to see what would happen.

Then Hermione did what Keen Eyes asked, and I felt a rush of magic about half of what his usually was, but it was coming from Hermione! "This feels really odd!"

"That's a lot of magic, Hermione!" Excitement swept me up and I sidled forward a little. I had to use my mirror to see exactly what was going on. There was a fountain of sparks pouring from her horn, but they weren't the kind of sparks a fire or grinder would make—these were magic sparks, and they all had a faint blue tint to them.

As suddenly as she started, Hermione stopped. Panting, she looked around at us and was almost dancing in place. "That was amazing!"

Keen Eyes stomped his hooves in what seemed like applause. "It sure was. Normally, that would—"

A loud barking sound interrupted our impromptu magic lesson. I looked up and didn't need glasses to see Hedwig approaching me rapidly—she had a note held in one talon. Turning side-on to her, I braced my hooves and waited for Hedwig to land on my back. "Hello, girl. Someone sent me a letter?"

Hedwig leaned forward as I turned my head to her and rubbed her cheek against mine. She let out a soft whistle and repeated the action on my other cheek.

Casting a Locomotion charm on the paper, I lifted it from her claws and unfolded it.

Harry Potter,
Headmistress McGonagall called off morning classes, so I thought we'd have our first student council meeting. Could you join us at the quidditch pitch as soon as you can, please?
Gemma Farley.

"What's it say?" Ron asked.

"There's a student council meeting. I should go to it, or else Gryffindor won't have anyone there." I reread the note and felt a little excitement at the prospect of what would be discussed. "We'll be getting ready for the quidditch tournament."

"It'll be good to have another few games," Fred said.

"Yeah," George said. "It'll make up for cutting the regular one short for all that mess."

I looked at Addera with a guilty expression. "I better go now."

Addera had been quiet throughout most of the magic lesson, but now she opened her mouth. "Would you like company, Harry Potter?"

"I should probably go alone, but company on the walk would be nice if you want to?" I asked.

We gave Keen Eyes and our friends a round of goodbyes, and made our way back to the school. Hedwig stayed on my back, making occasional whistles from time to time. We were halfway across the viaduct before I realized something. "You were really quiet back there."

"It may surprise you, Harry Potter, that you can learn more things by listening than by talking." Addera's tone was more joking than biting. I looked up to see her smiling. "Besides, you were talking about unicorn magic. I am not qualified to discuss that."

A sudden urge to fill the void with stuff Addera might be interested in hit me. "I didn't tell anyone, but when I used the Fire-Making charm earlier to dry off, it was about ten times bigger than any I've done before even though I barely used any magic. I was cleaning scorch marks out of the bathroom when Neville came in."

"Imagine that, Harry Potter. Someone for whom fire is literally part of them being better at fire magic." Addera leaned across and rubbed one of my ears. "If your fire spells are out of control, you must master them."

"What, just like that?" I asked with some sarcasm.

"No, Harry Potter. I expect it will take work. Did it feel any different from usual?"

I thought about it, the feeling of barely releasing any magic at all and having a torrent of fire pour from me. "It was great!"

"All the more reason to master it. Would you trust yourself casting that charm around others, Harry Potter?"

She had a good point. "You're right. Alright, I'll start trying after this meeting." I took a deep breath. "Thanks, Addera."

"I'll leave you to the vipers, Harry Potter. I pity them." Smiling at the joke she'd made, Addera turned and let me trot the rest of the way to the quidditch pitch alone.

The pace (I called it a trot because it felt like one) ate up ground and took me to the stands surrounding the quidditch pitch. Not seeing anyone, I climbed into and onto the stands and spotted the little group sitting in the middle of the pitch.

I waved a hoof at them, then made my way down to the pitch and over the moat and onto the center grass. Walking up to the group, I noticed they all had smiles on their faces. "Got here as fast as I could."

"Perfectly alright, but your owl is very strange." Gemma said it with a smile, which made me wonder what had happened. I was tempted to turn and ask Hedwig when Gemma continued. "Now we're all here, we can come to order. Put simply, it sucked not having a full season of quidditch this year. The teachers know it, the headmistress knows it, and all the students know it. We're going to fix that."

The little group was Gemma Farley, Eddie Carmichael, Heidi Macavoy, Lee Jordan, and me. That meant we had two Gryffindor students present.

"Lee, what would you suggest for a tournament?" Gemma asked.

"Well, we could do a round-robin like normal, but to ensure each team played each other team would take, well, it would take a long time. So why not have an eliminator?" Lee pulled out a notepad, his quill, an ink well, and was reaching into a pocket for some blotter paper when Heidi tossed him a ballpoint pen. He stared at it in shock. "You know we're not—"

"We don't exactly want to spend all day on this, and that rule is only for work to be handed in. If that muggle device helps you write faster, please use it." Gemma, being a prefect, had the most say in it after all.

"So I figured an eliminator, using the ranks of the four houses when the regular games were called off as the order. So Gryffindor play Slytherin, Hufflepuff play Ravenclaw. Then the winners of each play off for first place." Lee drew the matchups quickly with the pen—something that would have taken nearly ten minutes if he'd gone to all the effort to use his quill and ink. "Then if you wanted, you could have the two losing teams play off for bottom spot."

"What if there was a fifth team?" Gemma asked. Everyone turned their heads to look at her in shock. "Say, what if I put a team together from students not in the other teams?"

"That—That makes it harder. Eliminators are best used when there are a power-of-two number of teams." Lee began scribbling on the page, trying to come up with something. Oh! Top five play-offs.

"So Slytherin were on top, with Gryffindor just behind them, Ravenclaw next, and Hufflepuff last. That means Slytherin have a bye on the first round, and the other four teams play each other second against third, fourth against—" Lee looked at Gemma, "—fifth. Your team. Then the winners between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw plays Slytherin, and the loser plays the winner between Hufflepuff and the new team. Then—"

Gemma cleared her throat. "That sounds perfect, Lee. Draw it up. How many games in total?"

"Six games. It goes five teams, four teams, three teams, then two teams play off for the final." Lee's hand was a blur, sketching out a complex little pattern that, by the looks of it, did give a good spread of games.

Pulling out her own notepad, I noticed Gemma used a pencil to write things down. "Okay, I trust you can wrangle the four teams to get this working. I'll talk to Hooch and put together the fifth team." Her pencil worked quickly. "Okay, more suggestions? Quidditch is great, but it's only a small chunk of the day. I want everyone to be able to find things to do."

"Well, there's wizard chess," Heidi said. "I know there's a few students who like playing that."

"Great suggestion. Though I don't think we want a tournament as such—doesn't really engender the same feel—but a chess group with a leaderboard would be a good one. Thanks, Heidi." Gemma scribbled furiously. "Eddie, any suggestions?"

"What'sit matter? We're all turnin' into—" Eddie froze at the sight of Gemma drawing her wand out. "Oh yeah? What you gonna do wif it? If you cast a spell, you turn more into one of them."

"Loo-mos!" With such a small spell, and using all the components to form it, Gemma's change took a few moments to happen. Slowly, as if they were wandering, her ears crawled up the sides of her head until they perched atop, reforming along the way to two yellow, fur-covered pony ears.

When Gemma twitched one of her new ears, she nodded and cut off the light spell. "We're all in this together, Eddie. The student council doesn't have room for someone not willing to work for all students."

I noticed Gemma shift a little where she sat, and realized it was similar to something I'd seen Hermione do. I cleared my throat. "I don't blame you, Eddie, but we need to keep everyone from doing more stupid things." As I spoke, Gemma's ears twisted around toward me and made me wonder if mine did the same thing.

"Alright, alright. Well, me dad had a fing for football. Maybe we could set up a game of that?" Eddie asked.

"That's—what's football?" Gemma looked between Heidi and me.

Heidi looked excited, visibly perking up. "Imagine if about half the muggles in the world all liked one game a lot, and that game was like quidditch, but played on the ground with just one ball and huge goals."

It was so odd that someone who grew up in the UK didn't know about football. I felt compelled to help explain it. "It'd be a lot easier to learn than quidditch, and a lot easier to get people to play."

"Okay then. I'll leave that in your hands, Eddie. Chess for you, Heidi. I know it'd take more than a full body transfiguration to stop Harry from playing quidditch, but you're not going to be playing all the time. What could you do?" Gemma turned all her attention onto me.

I felt like a deer caught in headlights. My mouth opened a few times then snapped closed. If Hermione were here, she'd know of twenty things to keep people busy. "Hermione."

Gemma just raised an eyebrow, but Eddie asked, "Huh?"

"Not Hermione, sorry. I mean she always knows something to do—though for her it's usually academic. We could ask around students, see if any want to teach a class," I said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Trust a Gryffindor to think more school would be a good—"

Though it seemed Gemma wouldn't give him a chance to finish. "It's actually a good idea. With all these changes, I'm sure some of us have learned tips and tricks for dealing with little problems."

"More than that." Excitement built as my idea unfolded. "Some of us know muggle things, some of us know how to fight, some of us know tricks—Eddie, I've seen you cheat at cards, you could—"

"I don't cheat!" Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, but I could see a smile grow on his lips. Both Fred and George had warned Gryffindor students to avoid Eddie in a card game. "I just make my chances better."

"But the point is, Eddie, you're good at 'making your chances better'," Gemma said. "You could teach others at least a few of your tricks." She turned to look at me. "You have a lot of friends with unique talents. Could you get some to help you get the ball rolling?"

On the surface I wanted to reject Gemma out of hand (hoof?) as this being some kind of Slytherin plot. I could see she was manipulating us—it was obvious with Eddie—but her manipulations weren't petty like with Draco and shunning me.

Then it hit me. The thing with shunning was because of Draco, not Gemma. She was only doing it because Draco made her. Did she need help with Draco? "Yeah, I'm sure I can get some to talk about things they're good at."

"Okay!" Gemma stood up and brushed down her robe and dress. "I'd like to hear from each of you how your things are going. We'll use the quidditch games to get everyone excited in the short term. I think another meeting in two days should work."

It was obvious dismissal, and while Eddie, Heidi, and Lee got up and started walking off, Gemma waited with me for a moment. "I'm sorry about that stunt, Harry. The whole ignoring you thing."

"That's alright. I kinda figured out what was going on." Climbing to my hooves, I heard a surprised whistle from my back. "Sorry, Hedwig. I didn't realize you were asleep."

Hedwig leaned forward and whistled just behind my ears.

"I don't think I've seen anyone talk to their owl like that before. I had to bribe her with five rashers of bacon before she'd let me give her a message for you." Gemma reached a hand out, slowly, then brushed it down Hedwig's feathers. "What's it like?"

"Uh? Having an owl?" I asked.

"Being a tiny horse—pony. I mean, I know I'll probably be bigger, because Hooch seemed to be larger as an adult pony, but it seems like a crap-shoot as to if I'll get hands or be four-on-the-floor." Gemma looked down at her hands as if for the first time. "So what's it like needing to use spells to do the most basic things?"

"I'm getting really good with those spells. It's some of the others I'm having trouble with." For a moment I considered demonstrating. If I'd been purely a wizard, I would have, but then I remembered my resolution to use common sense. Common sense held up a sign that read: using unpredictable fire spells in the middle of a stadium made entirely from wood is a bad idea. "Let me show you outside this death-trap."

Gemma followed me out of the quidditch pitch and to a rocky outcropping that had nothing flammable around. "So what are you going to—"

"This is what I cast earlier. I'm using as little magic as I can here." I drew power into my horn, gestured with my horn in the appropriate manner, and cast the Fire-Making charm. The resulting gout of fire seemed to shoot nearly fifty feet into the air before I cut off my magic.

"Wow."

"Yeah. That's the weakest I can make it." Despite the situation, I couldn't help a little pride in that.

"There are two things that would normally cause a spell to malfunction like this. Either you're feeding too much magic into it—which you said you aren't—or something's affected it to make it too efficient." Gemma narrowed her eyes. "Cast it again for me."

Given the jet of flame started from the tip of my horn, I was glad my fur was fireproof. I made another huge gout of my red/purple flame.

"Well, it's definitely something modifying your spell. That color is a dead give away. Have you tried it without gesturing with your wan—horn?"

"But that'd make it harder to cast and less—" I stopped talking as I realized Gemma's idea. "Efficient. Okay, here goes."

Just putting my intent behind the spell and words, I filled it with magic and got a spray of fire about a quarter the size, but it took much more effort to keep it under control. The spell was hungry for magic, and giving it only enough to barely keep it going was a struggle.

Snuffing out the spell, I spun around to look at Gemma. "That worked! Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Harry. Let's go get lunch. I don't know about you, but I have a feeling like a storm's building." Gemma turned toward the school but waited for me to walk up beside her. "That's part of the reason I'm doing all this. When something big comes, all of Hogwarts needs to be united."

"Yeah. I—Where's Hedwig?"

"She flew off when you started casting. Clever owl you have there, Harry."

Ginevra Molly Weasley watched her brother walking off toward the school. Her heart ached for him—watching him happily cast spells that reshaped his body and twisted it to Sombra's wishes. What now?

Without the pressing concern of dealing with the remnant mind of the body he stole, King Sombra had more focus for his minions. "We build our army, Ginevra. Some of these beasts are too weak to fight, but I have invested the rest with enough vitality for my return."

Our army? Ginny hated hearing him speak to her so familiarly and warmly, but any warmth at all was better than none. What do you mean, our army?

"I am making plans to give you what you wanted, Ginevra. Physical form." Walking among the crystal ponies, all of them wearing the helmets that made his control of them trivial, Sombra touched their weakened minds. "None of these are worthy. We will find you something as a reward for your service."

Ginny shivered. Promising herself that she would betray Sombra at her first chance, she assented wordlessly. What do you need me to do?

"The smartest servant is one who knows when to ask for directions. I need you to work some magic for me, Ginevra. This magic is intrinsic to your kind. Here." Sombra had pulled some useful spells from the ghostly mind of Tom Riddle before he destroyed it. The most useful for him right now was a spell of calling that was bound to a special mark. "Cast this through your brother. Call those your dark wizard has touched."

My father told me about this. It's dark magic. Specifically, it was He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named's dark magic. The marks that the spell called were unique to his servants. This spell calls Death Eaters.

Sombra chuckled. "A curious title. Completely overrated. Nonetheless, cast this through your brother and bind them to his service."

There's Death Eaters in Hogwarts? Ginny started casting the spell. Rather than magic, the spell pulled directly at Sombra's power—she pulled directly at Sombra's power—and she pushed it out through Percy. I'm sorry, Percy, but you might have some enemies to deal with. I'll help.

Severus Snape was dining at the head table when the pain started. He'd felt it just once before in recent times—when Harry Potter had been fighting Quirinus Quirrell and Voldemort. He clutched his hand over the sleeve of his robe as the feeling of a serpent under his skin carved a track of fire just under his skin.

"Severus?" Albus Dumbledore was beside Severus, eating lunch, and leaned across. Seeing his former student clutching his forearm, it wasn't a particularly large leap of logic to reach what was bothering him. "The mark?"

"It's just a passing pain. It does this from—from time to time." Only it wasn't and it didn't. Lies came easily to a liar, and to reassure a friend like Albus, Severus would lie to the dark lord himself. "It's nothing to worry about."

Albus watched his former student and friend swap his fork to his right hand and return to eating with just one arm free. He knew Severus was lying, but sometimes a lie was more comfortable than the truth. "Very well. I'll—"

The scream of pain spilled from Severus' throat before he knew what was happening. Searing pain ran down his arm from the mark. When he looked at his left arm, there was purple flames licking around it. "A-A-Albus—"

Outside the great hall, Percy felt drawn to the doors and the shouting within. Ginny's spell—that she cast through him—was akin to a magnet that pulled him closer to the target of it. The target, when he peered around the doorway, made him gasp in shock.

A purple glow, almost like fire, but not quite, reached from Percy and into the great hall. It trailed like smoke over the benches and tables until it wrapped around Severus' arm. So close to being caught, Percy struggled against the dark spell and ran from the hall.

"Harry Potter, that is dark magic!" Addera's mind was cold and analytical. She stared at the mass of energy and hissed at it. Her mind was only cold and analytical whenever Harry Potter was not involved—and as she watched him gallop up to the teachers' tables, she lost that coldness.

Severus was trapped in his own private hell. The dark lord he thought dead—that he hoped was dead—was somehow here. But the sound of hooves clopping onto the table before him was so different that he split his thoughts away from the agony just in time to see Harry erupt into a blue-red fireball and bite into the magic.

Harry wasn't exactly angry, but he was on fire. He'd needed the fire to do what he wanted, so he focused on what was wrong and built his anger on top of it. When he'd clamped his sharpened fangs around the dark magic, he'd tasted the darkness of it—the spine-chilling cold intent.

Staring at Harry as he snapped and bit at the magic, Severus was in awe of his student's tenacity and spirit. "Just like James," he barely managed to say before Harry closed his teeth down on Severus' arm.

The scream of pain echoed out of the great hall and down the hallways. Percy heard it and cringed, but the severed link between him and Severus Snape let him feel a weaker, lesser bond.

Rushing, running, Percy could feel the dark spell working through him change his legs—he was soon making soft clip-clopping sounds. He reached the painting of the fat lady and paused barely long enough to mutter, "Fish and Chips."

The fire from the Dark Lord's spell—or what Severus thought was the Dark Lord's spell—was gone, but it was replaced with blue and red flames. They ate their way up his arm, and they burned in a good way. The mark that had been on his arm for so many years burned from his flesh, and as Severus watched the burning, his forearm changed.

Fingers merged together, and a pair of hardening nails shoved down and out of the altered hand. "A hoof?" Severus lifted his head to look at a surprised Harry Potter. "You burned his mark away, but you give me a—" The fire spread.

Percy stared at the rat. "Scabbers? I thought you were dead?"

Ginny's spell pulled harder as Percy's hand touched the old rat. She felt it burn and sear its way into the target and heard him scream as it took root. Bring him back, Percy.

Everyone in the great hall—student or teacher—watched as Severus Snape burned alive. The flames incinerated his clothing, burned away his humanity and left an ash-gray furred kirin in the charred remains of the table.

With wobbly legs, Severus Snape stood up on all fours and looked down at himself. When down didn't provide the answers he sought, Severus looked back. "I'm a bloody horse."

"Lord Kirin!" a masculine voice called from the crowd a moment before Severus passed out.

"Mff-ffff-mfffm-ff!" The muffled words had every bit the purpose of a spell being cast. Everyone turned to see Rolanda Hooch, her wand clutched firmly in her mouth, propel a huge jet of water at Harry and Severus.

What surprised Harry was the water actually worked. The fire around him started to die down, and when Hooch aimed the blast right at him—though it made a lot of steam—his flames were snuffed out. Looking from atop the scorched table at Severus, Harry blinked in surprise at the ash-furred and cyan-green maned kirin. "P-Professor Snape?"

"Are you suuuure this is the right place? I mean, it looks suspicious, but I don't think they want company."

"Pinkie Pie, I don't see how it could be anything else. This spell sure is weird, though." Twilight Sparkle had been trying not to panic the whole train trip north. She'd worked through all her ideas of what she could be facing, and finally settled on tracking down Cadance and her brother as the most important details. "It almost looks like it's reinforcing itself."

"Well, I haven't met a spell that can keep me from—" Rainbow Dash was already pumping her wings and trying to fly at the big dome-like spell, though Applejack's teeth clamped on her tail did a good job of keeping her from actually getting closer.

"Just let me focus on it. It might be important that it stays here. Besides, Cadance and Shining Armor got in." Twilight nodded to Applejack in thanks before she turned all her attention to the magic barrier.

It took nearly an hour of work to finally decode a way to pierce the barrier and open a gap big enough for each of them to pass through, but with her dedication to magical theory, it had been inevitable that Twilight Sparkle would succeed. Trying to ignore the impromptu wrestling match that Applejack and Rainbow had been involved in, Twilight judged her magic just right and began to push.

Twilight was sure to remove her hole in the barrier once Fluttershy timidly jumped through it. "There. Now, unless I miss my guess, the source of this barrier is that way!" Twilight pointed her hoof unerringly in the direction of the middle of the dome.

Almost in the exact center of the barrier, Princess Cadance felt the new touch to the ward. Far from fighting it, however, she smiled with dazzling enthusiasm. "Shiny! Twilight's here, she—"

Everypony in the camp looked at Cadance just in time to see her waver on her hooves and start to fall, but none moved as fast as Shining Armor to catch her. "Cady?"

"…Five… Six… Seven." Cadance shook her head to fight off the impending migraine. "That was Twilight and her friends letting themselves in. Ouch."

Author's Notes:

King Sombra: What happened to the Crystal Empire?

"While I trapped myself in a crystal tomb, I know not of what passed, just that time did pass. So much time that when I woke I feared I had been sleeping too long. I awake weakened, stripped of most of my magic. The first thing I do when I choke the freedom from these strange upright beasts is find out where it is and get it back. Then there will be a helmet for every pony, every beast—even you."

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I blinked a few more times, looking at Snape. I wasn't just going to be in trouble, I was in mega trouble. "I'm sorry—"

Snape closed his eyes and looked like he was counting to ten. "Mr. Potter, sorry scarcely covers this—"

"You're right, Severus. Can't you feel it?" Dumbledore asked, cutting in on Snape before he could finish. "The darkness you bore is gone, old friend."

Snape's mouth moved a few times, and I could see actual surprise on his face before it returned to the neutral scowl he seemed to reserve for all the time. "Wonderful news. I will continue thanking him the moment he turns me back. Also, that was my best robe."

"Harry Potter! Severus Snape! I will see the both of you in the meeting room immediately!" McGonagall practically jumped to her feet and was already stalking to the side door that led directly to that room.

I looked at Snape, and he looked at me. I don't think either of us wanted to follow her. We both, however, turned toward the door and started walking.

Neither of us had it particularly easy. Both of us were soaked through, but while Snape was struggling to not look a fool trying to walk on four legs for the first time, I had to jump down from the table.

It was about this time a trembling urge took me, and I couldn't stop myself. I dipped my left shoulder down, flexing my leg instinctively, then I tossed my weight to the right and bent that shoulder down. The rest of me followed suit and I whipped my body back and forth at least a dozen times.

I froze in shock when I realized I'd just shaken myself dry by spraying water onto both Dumbledore and the head of the Slytherin table—where the prefects sat. With no clue which way to look first, I whipped my head between looking at Gemma's surprised (and grinning) face and Dumbledore's wide smile. "I'm sorry!"

I started to run for the door before I caused any more mess, and heard Dumbledore's laughter behind me mixed with Gemma's. I rushed through just behind Snape and just before McGonagall closed the door behind us.

"I thought it prudent to spend a little of my own humanity and observe what happened closer. Harry saved your life, Severus. Whatever that spell was, it would have tortured you until you did what it wanted or you stopped being able to do anything." McGonagall glared at Snape and slowly rolled up her sleeves to reveal rose gemstone refracting the light of the candles around the room into a kaleidoscope on the wall.

Snape looked away from her first.

"And you, Harry. While I understand your need to protect those around you, and I'm sure Professor Snape is most grateful for saving his life, perhaps a little more forethought would be good next time. It seemed the proximity to Severus' mark was impossible for you to resist. I'd rather not anyone else become—what was it Miss Lovegood called you—a kirin?" She waited until I too looked away (something that didn't take long given I could barely meet her gaze at all) before she turned back for the door. "I don't want to see either of you again until you have talked this out. So help me I'll take all of Gryffindor and Slytherin's points away if you don't."

In the silence that followed McGonagall opened the door, stepped out, and closed it behind her again.

"That woman really can be odious sometimes." Snape let out a deep sigh. "You've only gone and ruined my—" He sighed again. "I suppose I could say thank you, but don't think this will mean I'll go easy on you in class."

I didn't know what to say. That was probably the closest to an apology I was going to get, and I had to acknowledge it, but how? What would a wizard do? When my mind recovered from the shock of actually thinking that question, I realized the perfect answer. "We're even then."

"What?" Snape's eyes narrowed. "How does this make us even?"

"When you stopped Professor Quirrell from jinxing me off my broom. I mean, he still almost got me, but if you hadn't done those counter-curses, I'd have fallen for sure." I looked up at Snape. His face didn't look as masculine as what Shining Armors' did, but there was something undoubtedly male about his look. Being wet, I guess, didn't help things.

Snape groaned. "Ruining that odious man's schemes was reward in and of itself. Finding out his secret was—" He looked surprised at how much he was saying. "Very well, Mr. Potter, I'll consider our debts to each other even. No more going easy on you." The tiniest corner of Snape's mouth curled upward.

It was a joke. Severus Five Points From Gryffindor Snape had just told a joke! My mind reeled at the revelation and my thoughts became jumbled, but while all that happened I found myself grinning. "At least we can still do stuff in your class. The only other classes we get to do actual class work is Herbology and Arithmancy, and we're not even meant to be doing that until next year. I kinda enjoy potions—when the teacher isn't being mean."

"Mean, Mr. Potter? Whatever do you mean?" This time Snape spoke without revealing in any way if he was joking. I was at a loss as to how to take it until he stood up and started toward the door. "How do you work magic like this?"

I had a recollection—what with my eyesight focusing so well when fired up—of seeing Snape's wand burn away along with his clothes.

"Your horn. I can use mine like a wand, and I think Hermione could too, but she keeps using her wand since she has hands. Loo-mos!" It didn't take much magic to light the end of my horn.

"Seems simple enough. Loh-koh-mot-tor Yah-nu-a!" Snape's pronunciation of the spell was better than what Addera had used, I could tell, and barely any magic flowed from his horn at all, but nonetheless the door handle turned and the door opened for us.

"Curious," Snape said as he walked out of the room. "Come along, Mr. Potter."

I followed him—what else was I meant to do?

As we emerged from the room, Snape cleared his throat and pronounced the spell clearly again and pointed his horn toward the door behind us, which swung shut with a loud thump.

He was putting on a show, I realized as the red glow of the mirrored chevron on his horn died down. Snape was making a point of showing that he had full command of his magic. Then I wondered if I had that same pattern on my horn, and if it glowed that way.

"You'll have to excuse my actions, headmistress, I wasn't aware I'd be a—" Snape paused and turned to me. He wouldn't ask me, but the most tenuous of connections linked us now.

"I think we're kirin," I said.

"Kirin?" Snape didn't show any appreciation for my answer at all, instead turning back to look at McGonagall. "I can hardly be expected to act rationally when I am immolated and turned into a kirin—on top of having dark magic cast on me. If you'll excuse me further, I would dearly like to find whatever it was foolish enough to cast said dark magic upon my person."

I took my part in the excitement as done, and made my way down from the raised dais toward Gryffindor table. While I walked, however, I had to pass the Slytherin table.

"Harry!" Gemma's voice cut through the crowd, and I heard the entirety of the Slytherin table go quiet at the sound of it. "That was really brave of you. Don't forget what we discussed in student council."

Without my glasses she was still mostly just a blob, but I nodded my head toward the blob that looked like Gemma Farley. "I'll try to get some study classes organized by the next meeting." Why I felt so compelled to make the student council work I don't know—it just felt like a good thing. Good things coming from Slytherin students should be avoided, usually, but Gemma seemed genuine.

"Harry!" It was either Fred or George that called to me, and thanks to whichever's voice I was able to find a spot at table near Addera. "Here he is. The savior of teachers!" It was Fred.

"Oh! Don't sell 'im short! Harry here didn't just save a teacher. You 'eard 'em, dark magic! Harry saved all our lives." George gestured around the table at blurry faces that I felt were as close as brothers.

A loud cheer rose from the table, ending on what sounded like my name.

"An' he's got a special thing going with a seventh year, ain'tcha Harry?" Fred nudged my ribs. "I saw the way Gemma Farley looked at you. What'd she tell you, 'arry?"

"Oh Harry Potter!" George pantomimed a female voice terribly, though it had everyone laughing. Yay. "Meet me behind the quidditch pitch so we can—"

A swift fist collided with George's shoulder, and on the other end of it was Oliver Wood. "Back off you nutters. Leave the lad be. Didn't you hear the news?"

Fred leaned closer and tilted back in his chair. "Oh captain."

"My captain," George said, in high (if completely silly) spirits. "What's the news?"

Oliver gestured to one of the benches on the far side of the room. "We've got a game tomorrow—against Ravenclaw. You called my out-of-season practice stupid—"

Looking at each other, Fred and George nodded. "We still do."

"Well, we're going to play, but we have to work out how to get Harry ready for it. I'm not playing with anyone but our best seeker."

Addera slithered her way around Fred and coiled around me. "Is Professor Snape alright, Harry Potter?"

Her strong body was like a shield against the world, though I knew I couldn't actually hide behind her. For a moment, however, I could bask in the idea of just asking Addera to get me out of here. "He's alright. Better than alright. He had a dark magic mark on him."

"Curious. Come, Harry Potter, Hermione wants to ask you questions." Addera didn't give me any chance to refuse or try to argue with Fred or George anymore, she just plucked me up and sped down the table to where my other friends were.

Addera coiled herself back up and sat me up so I could see above the tabletop. Ron and Hermione were sitting together on the other side of the table, and beside us was Dean and Neville. "I freed him from your brothers, Ronald Weasley."

"What did you want to know, Hermione?" I asked.

"How exactly do you cast spells through your horn? I've tried, but I can't seem to get the right pattern working." Hermione went cross-eyed for a moment as she tried to look up at her horn. It was hard not to giggle. "Loo-mos!"

Rather than her horn light up, the magic rushed through her horn and lit up her wand where it sat on the table. "See? It's like it just isn't a wand for me."

"Huh. It worked for Snape the first time he tried to cast with his," I said. "Have you tried destroying your wand? That's what happened to both of ours."

"You burned Snape's wand?" Ron's eyes were wide. "That's amazin' Harry. I bet he wasn't happy."

I remembered the odd kind of joke we'd shared, and how he seemed—Okay, I need a wizard check. I almost thought Snape was friendly. Let me see. Snape's still furious at me, but just a little less than usual (what is it with Slytherins these days?).

Okay, back in the normal reality, just with a bunch of crazy Slytherins and ponies. "What else could go wrong?" I asked.

"Huh?" Dean looked at me like I'd gone crazy. "What d' ya mean? Isn't this enough?"

A loud banging noise startled the entire hall into silence. It came again, and I realized it was coming from the front doors of Hogwarts.

Everyone jumped to their feet (and quite a few to hooves, my ears told me), and took off running for the doors.

"Aren't you going to run and see what's happening, Harry Potter?" Addera asked.

There weren't a lot of people left after most of the students had rushed out. Even McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, and Flitwick had rushed toward the front doors. Hooch trotted after them and gave us a wink.

"No. Time for someone else to stand up and take a disaster on the chin. I'm having lunch." With that said, I cast a locomotion charm and started filling my bowl with hot porridge.

Ron, who had made a sandwich of a pork chop and some bread and was busy decorating it with apple sauce, aimed his spoon at the fleeing students and teachers. "What I don't get is how Sombra did dark magic in here, and why he didn't do it before?"

"Harry, what kind of person do you think he is?" Hermione asked.

I thought about it. Remembering how sure of himself he'd been, and how dismissive of me, I put together what I thought. "Pompous. Pretty full of 'imself," I said around my spoon. "He didn't care about anything much at all except his own winning."

"Right!" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and had the most self-satisfied smile on her snout I'd ever seen (which was saying something about Hermione Granger at this point in time). "So he must have been using someone else to work magic."

"So he's using it through his knight, but that doesn't explain why he didn't use it earlier. He could have stopped us from freeing those ponies, or even put those helmets on others." Ron, who was already a fairly pale-faced redhead, looked like he'd just stepped into his own grave. "He's inside the barrier."

"What?" I asked. "How do you get that?"

"It's the only thing that's different. Trust me, 'arry, he's inside it now." Ron looked down at his pork chop sandwich and sighed. "That just put me right off lunch." He took a bite out of his food despite his words.

"We should tell McGonagall. She did say you're supposed to tell her if you get any more of these ideas, right?" I spooned up some more porridge into my mouth and remembered how I was going to test out eating meat.

"What class do we have next?" Hermione asked.

"Honestly? We have a dark wizard stalking the school, and all you can think about is classes?" Ron gestured at Hermione with his sandwich. "You're barmy, you are."

"Ronald Weasley! Just because I'm serious about my education doesn't mean you can insult me. Remember who here can do magic!" As she spoke, Hermione's horn started spitting sparks, but when she noticed she quickly quelled her rush of magic.

She was lucky—I wish I could calm down like that.

"I can't help but feel like we missed something. Like there's a fact here that's staring me in the face that we missed." Ron took another bite of his sandwich.

"That reminds me. We were trying to think of things to keep people busy, and what I suggested was that some of us teach lessons. Not like full school lessons or anything, but just—well—teach just one thing that we know. Like Ron could teach chess." I tilted my head aside to look up at Addera. "You could teach basic parseltongue."

Out of my friends, it was Hermione that looked the most excited by the idea. "You mean we could learn things other students know? This would be great for muggleborn students to get up to date on the wizarding world."

What surprised me was how Ron perked up at that. "Ha! And Dad would be so impressed if I learned all about muggle stuff. Okay, what classes have you got so far?"

"Well…" It was time to own up. "If you teach wizarding world stuff, and Hermione teaches muggle stuff, and I teach spellcasting with a horn, and Addera teaches parseltongue… That'll make four classes."

"Just us?" Ron groaned and took another bite of his sandwich.

"But how will we find places to do it? We'll need rooms, equipment, and books!" Hermione seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, though she was grinning from ear to ear (no small feat when she had a pony snout).

"Well, that's actually the easy bit. See, this is part of the student council, and Gemma's going to help us get it started." The disbelieving looks I got made me roll my eyes. "No, really. I couldn't believe it either. She's still—Look, I know she's angling to get something out of it, but that makes it more believable. It boggles the mind, I know, but she's actually helping us do good things." Despite my heartfelt appeal, my friends didn't seem to be buying what I was selling. "She helped me with my fire magic."

Addera let out a surprised hiss. "You went to her for help, Harry Potter?"

"Yeah. Well, it was more we were talking after our meeting. She showed me something I was completely missing—my fire spells were just too efficient. What I had to do was make them less. Leaving out a gesture, that kind of thing." For the briefest moment I thought about demonstrating to my friends, but that was a grade A wizard thought. It was the kind of thought wizards have just before they realize they're burning down something important. "I'd show you, but if I screw it up the place will burn down."

"You haven't used any magic, Ron?" Hermione asked.

I hadn't realized it, but she was right. Of everyone I knew in school, he was probably now the only person without any outward sign of pony parts. "It's not so bad."

"One thing. Just this one thing, even if we look back on it after everything's fixed and laugh, I'll have done better than Percy." Ron straightened in his chair. "Besides, it's exciting learning ways to do things that don't need magic."

"You're learning to be a muggle, I'm learning to be a pony, and Harry's learning to be a wizard." Hermione looked sideways at me and grinned. "I think I got the best of this."

"Yeah," Ron and I said at the same time.

"Besides, you don't even need to work out how to use hooves to hold things. You got all the good parts and none of the problems," Ron said. "I bet if I cast spells, I'll turn into something tiny without a horn."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron before scrunching her snout up.

Rolanda Hooch almost couldn't believe her eyes. Two new pegasi had arrived with the group, and one of them almost literally never stopped flying. Blue wings held her spellbound until another pony came up beside her.

"Hey, you're another fully changed one, huh?" Flagessio had found herself intrigued by the new creatures, but what surprised her more was the pegasus among them that didn't fly. With the bearers of the Elements of Harmony distracting pretty much everyone, she got a chance to talk with said pegasus.

Turning her attention from the blue pegasus to the one at her side, Rolanda was surprised at the differences she noticed. This pegasus was darker than most of the others, and her wings looked a little larger. "You might say that. We wanted a member of the faculty to have some—err—experience with things. Sorry, I should introduce myself. Rolanda Hooch, but please call me Rolanda."

"Pleased to meet you, Rolanda. My name's Sergeant Flagessio, but please don't use my rank—I get enough of that already."

"You're in the military?" The only experience Rolanda had had with soldiers was over seventy years previous when someone had been foolhardy enough to shoot at her broom.

Flagessio nodded her head. "Scout division. Best long-distance flier in all Equestria. I couldn't help but notice you don't use your wings."

"Between my duties and briefing the headmistress on what it's like to be a pony, I've not had much chance to try using them. Minerva said she was going to herd the children into afternoon classes, though I don't like her luck now." Rolanda let out a sigh and looked over her shoulder. "The truth is, I don't know where to start."

"Perhaps I could help? I mean, I'm not a flight school trainer, but I am qualified in just about every other aspect of flying." The look that Rolanda gave her confirmed in Flagessio's mind that the other mare was definitely a pegasus—she wanted to fly.

Rolanda was of two minds about getting a flying lesson from an actual pegasus. Firstly, she really wanted to fly, and learning from someone who could actually fly was probably her best chance. Secondly, she had a responsibility to learn what she could about being a pony. That both sides of her internal argument agreed that learning to fly would be just about the best thing ever meant that the choice was easy for her. "That would be wonderful."

"Well, I'll let my boss know, and you should probably do the same. Why don't we meet at your stadium over there?" Flagessio fluffed out her wings and looked up at the sky.

Frozen—transfixed—Rolanda watched Flagessio stretch out her wings and just jump. The first rush of air made her gasp as the pegasus shot into the sky. Her own wings twitched in excitement. Flagessio was out of sight and the blue pegasus completely forgotten as Rolanda tried to find Minerva McGonagall.

Crowds were easier to negotiate when you had hooves, Rolanda had learned, though a little of her stature was lost, accidentally stepping on a foot here or there was highly effective at making room. Finding McGonagall was easy, she was tall and had a distinctive voice that everyone was straining to hear, getting close enough to get her attention was less simple. "Make way."

Having taken up the job of making himself useful, Lucian Bole was happy to insinuate himself between Headmistress McGonagall and the crowd of students. It also meant he got to be close to the amazing ponies. When Rolanda Hooch's voice came from somewhere in the crowd, Lucian turned his narrowing eyes on the students. "Make room for a teacher! Come on! Out of the way!"

Rolanda rushed through the sudden gap of bodies and up to Lucian. "Thank you, Mr. Bole. Five points to Slytherin." She saw pride on the boy's face, but was surprised he was looking past her face. "You like to fly, don't you Lucian?"

Wings, in Lucian's mind, would be amazing. He nodded quickly, though his attention was more on the teacher's tail than her wings. It took everything in him not to reach out and pet it.

Brushing past Lucian, Rolanda cleared her throat at Minerva's side. It gave the headmistress a moment to finish her conversation and turn to her friend. "Minerva, I've talked one of the ponies into giving me flying lessons—"

"You don't need to ask my permission, Rolanda, especially not something so useful. Though, I appreciate knowing about it. Good luck, dear." It didn't take a lifetime of knowing Rolanda Hooch loved flying for Minerva to sense the excitement in her friend. That it had taken this long for the school's first pegasus on the faculty to fly with her own wings (or break something trying) had been a little surprising. She turned back to Twilight Sparkle.

Rolanda ignored the touches of students as she pushed her way free—though one touch of her tail almost made her bark at whoever had done it. When she was finally free of the crowd, Rolanda went looking for Flagessio. Her only error in searching was that she didn't think to look up.

No sooner had Flagessio seen Rolanda extract herself from the crowd than she swooped down and landed at her side. "So, ready to use those wings?"

Wings. The word seemed amazing to Rolanda in that it applied to her. Her wings. She had wings. Wings that could fly. "I've been ready to hear those words for nearly eighty years." Rolanda had to gather her focus onto the moment. "I noticed that other mare hovered a lot…?"

"Rainbow Dash? She's a totally different kind of flier. Notice her light build, small wings with larger feathers? That's a body built for precision flying. I've heard she can do a sonic rainboom." Flagessio walked beside Rolanda on their way to the quidditch pitch.

"Dare I ask, what's a sonic rainboom?" The word sounded, at least to Rolanda, as something mythical. She knew all about muggle terms for flying, and of sonic booms specifically, but sonic rainboom sounded magical.

"There's a point in flying fast where magic and air meet and stop a pegasus flying any faster. This is the absolute limit to all forms of flight that don't involve teleportation of some kind." Having been through the advanced flight school for pegasi in the E.U.P. Guard, Flagessio knew all this stuff off by heart. "A sonic rainboom is created when a pony surpasses that."

"But wouldn't that make it impossible to do?"

"Exactly why it's so amazing that she can do them. She breaks all the rules for flight, physics, and magic, and it's magical on a level that only gets more amazing when you know what she's doing. I've tried doing it—every pegasus who's serious about flying has—but these wings aren't made for that kind of special." Flagessio flicked out a wing to show Rolanda. "These were made for endurance. If you wanted me to fly clear across Equestria, I could do it faster than anypony alive."

"But Rainbow Dash—?"

"Would tire herself out trying to flap too much. That's her problem. Every single thing she does requires her to flap her wings. She can't just stretch out and catch a tail-wind for an hour. She'd make it from Canterlot to Ponyville in the blink of an eye—faster than I could even start to think about it—but from Baltimare to Las Pegasus? She'd stop in every town on the way to recover." Reaching the stadium, Flagessio stretched out her wings and gave them the lightest flap. She didn't gain any lift from the maneuver, but she felt the air currents. "Okay. Stretch out those flappers and let me see what kind of flier you are."

Flying suddenly seemed more complicated. Rolanda had expected to be able to do any kind of flying, and it would have been amazing, but the way Flagessio spoke seemed to imply different kinds of flight were set in stone the moment you got your wings. She sucked up all that worry and shoved it out of her head—Rolanda Hooch was ready to fly!

Flagessio watched Rolanda stretch her wings out and whistled. "A little bit of everything, I'd say. You don't have the pronounced primaries of a pure acrobat, but your wings aren't thermal-huggers like mine. Generally, you can do a bit of everything if you put your mind to it."

The news heartened Rolanda and gave her confidence. "Okay. So how do I fly?"

"Focus on your wings. There's a lot they'll tell you about the world around you." Flagessio closed her eyes and stretched her wings wide—wider than most pegasi could. "Every feather, no matter if it actually helps you fly or otherwise, tells you a story about the air. Everything exists in the air, but what you need to feel first is the breeze."

Seeing that Flagessio had closed her eyes, Rolanda did the same. Without visual input, her mind stretched out to feel her wings. Six limbs when she'd always had just four was definitely strange and hard to pay attention to, but without sight she could more easily accept what her feathers were telling her.

Not wanting to intrude on what she expected was a strange moment for someone who'd never had wings before, Flagessio nonetheless spoke, "Explain what you're feeling."

Rolanda tried to work out what words to use, and after a moment more she opened her mouth. "Movement. I feel the breeze in my feathers."

"But there's no breeze."

"I know that, but I still feel it." Musing on that, Rolanda tried to feel out the source of the air movement she felt. "It's you. The breeze is coming from you, but not. I don't know how better to describe it."

"Close enough. You're feeling the disturbance in the air I make by living. Every creature has a heartbeat, every creature makes little movements with their body. You can feel that." Flagessio waited for Rolanda to nod (she felt it in her own wings), then she twitched her feathers just a little.

Gasping at the feeling of movement, Rolanda snapped her eyes open. "How does this help with learning to fly?"

"Do you think a pegasus has some kind of magic that tell us what the air around us is doing?" Flagessio said. "Well, okay, some pegasi do, but most of us know the air around us by feeling it. You'll spend more time feeling for air currents than you will flapping, that's for sure."

"Alright. So what's next?"

"Flap."

"Is that it?" Rolanda raised a highly skeptical eyebrow.

"Of course not, but it will let you feel what your feathers do when you move your wings. There are several kinds of feathers. Your primaries are what give you lift. They push you around and don't feel the air so much as shove it around. Your secondaries don't move as much as your primaries, and are what give you more lift when moving fast. Your tertials are not needed for flight except in the way they protect your other feathers when you fold your wings. Then you have the tectrices, the feathers on your wing itself. When you feel, you feel with those.

"Your primaries are the most important. On a still day you could fly with those alone, but without them you will never fly. Try moving them."

Rolanda looked at her wing curiously. She'd seen birds before, especially owls, but she'd never paid such close attention to the wings of them—something she now considered a massive oversight on her part. "Can you show me what feathers you're talking about?"

Flagessio used her own wing to gesture to each set of feathers. "Outermost of your wings are the primaries, those attached to the next bone in are the secondaries, then tertials, and finally—covering your wing itself—are the tectrices." Carefully holding out just one primary, she turned it left on its axis for Rolanda. "Try doing this."

"Fingers." Rolanda focused on her feathers, but when she thought about moving just one—of the tendons under them—all the feathers on one wing turned at once. "Blast."

"No. That's good. You think a foal knows how to grab and hold things with their feathers right from the get-go?" Straightening her feathers out, Flagessio beat her wing down. It was pure muscle memory to twist them and stroke back up. "Think you can do that?"

It wasn't hard for Rolanda to put together that winged flight was something very physical and related tightly to intimate biological knowledge of how wings worked, but she also felt intuition sparking. Spreading her wings, Rolanda swept them up with her primaries turned, then beat down with them flattened.

Strain spread through wings, weight landed on muscles and tendons built to take it, and Rolanda Hooch lifted herself nearly two inches off the ground before her wobbly legs caught her. "I flew!" Though excitement bubbled through her body, Rolanda knew she needed to correct that statement. "I mean, I flapped."

"This is the point where I'd normally advocate for getting a unicorn to keep an eye on you while I shove you off a cliff. Flying, actually flying, is personal to everypony. There's no two ponies with the same wings. Come on, Rolanda, flap those wings and actually fly!"

Staring at Flagessio as she leapt into the air, Rolanda focused on what she'd just seen: bunched legs, a kick into the air as if jumping, and beating down hard and fast. Fear of heights had never been a problem for Rolanda Hooch, and doubly so when she learned how to cast a hover spell without words or wand. Laughing for the sheer joy of it, she bunched her muscles, jumped into the air and started beating her wings for all she was worth.

Watching Rolanda's wings cup the air, making note of how her feathers reacted to motion and lift, Flagessio winced the moment Rolanda tipped forward and flapped a second time. The effect was less lift so much as thrust, and it propelled Rolanda into a tumble that had her rolling across the grass instead of soaring above it. "This is why a cliff is advised."

Rolanda was too busy laughing to hear Flagessio's comment. She laughed and laughed, but when it was time to stand up (in her estimation of such things) she was already spreading her wings back out. "Are you going to tell me taking off is the hard part?"

"You're standing on the hard part. Ground. At the end of every flight you hit it." Flagessio landed beside Rolanda. "Ready to try again?"

"Aren't you going to teach me how to land before I can take off?" It seemed somewhat logical to Rolanda. If landing was the hard bit, why learn taking off first? she thought.

"Oh no. Trust me, landing is intuitive. If you stop flapping, you will land."

Rolanda liked the joke, but less so since it might be at her expense (later). "You mean crash, right?"

"Yup. Without fail, every pegasus crashes into the ground for probably their first dozen flights. Admittedly that's normally when you're a foal, and landing bumps and bruises heal fast, but I don't doubt you're going to have the same problem." Flagessio spread her wings and demonstrated a take-off again.

"Alright. Let's get this right. Crouch, wings out, kick, flap—" Rolanda pumped her wings hard, but this time she felt as the air tipped her forward, and she delivered a flap on an angle to shove her back straight. Then another flap. Then another. Excitement boiled through Rolanda Hooch as, for the first time ever without magic, she flew.

"Whoa! Okay, you got it. Keep moving forward, you don't want to try hovering yet. Come on, work your wings!" Keeping up a litany of encouragement and goading, Flagessio urged Rolanda higher and higher. "More! Up a bit higher. That's it!"

"Shouldn't I stay near the ground?!" Rolanda did as instructed—for the first time in over seventy years she was learning something new about flying.

"Of course not. The ground is the bit that hurts. Up here you have time to recover and time to make mistakes. Keep up! Come on!"

The faster she moved, the less need Rolanda felt to flap. As Flagessio had said, the feathers further down her wing were now holding a lot of her weight. This gave her more opportunity to look around. They were circling Hogwarts highest towers, though Rolanda had no idea how she was turning, seeing Flagessio doing it seemed to make her do it too. "This is amazing!"

"This is what being a pegasus is, Rolanda. Even if your friends work out a way to turn you back, you'll remember this moment." Tipping forward just a little, Flagessio led Rolanda into gaining speed. "Come on! Give yourself some flaps to catch me. Speed up! Sacrifice height to gain speed!"

Some of the phrases Flagessio used made sense to Rolanda from her broom-riding days (a lot of broom-riding days), but flapping wings was so much more real than riding a broom. She stretched her primaries out and flapped backwards while tipping slightly forward. A boost in speed was sudden, and pulled a shout of excitement from her.

"Oh! I see how it is! Come here…" Flagessio's wings weren't built for short bursts of speed, but against a pure newbie in the air she was more than up to the task of matching Rolanda. The dip to gain speed had brought them down to the upper levels of the towers—towers that sped by as if they were nothing.

Rolanda thought her heart was going to explode out of her chest—she felt like a young woman again. Silver Arrow? Her first broom had nothing on actually flying. All her life she'd cherished memories of flying on that old broom for the first time, but she had something new to remember. For an instant she twitched her primaries wrong—spreading them flat when she beat upward—and suddenly the ground was coming up very fast.

Panic had no place when it came to flight and Rolanda Hooch. She was already mouthing the spell silently, already letting the magic trickle through her. She wouldn't crash, she'd bounce.

"Pull up! Spend your speed to get altitude. Come on!" Flagessio shouted.

With her safety assured, Rolanda ignored the ground completely and angled her wings so that her secondaries caught her momentum and shot her upward again. A flap saved her forward momentum as Rolanda evened out. Opening her mouth, she screamed for joy as her instructor caught up.

"I knew you were a pegasus! Great work! Now it's time to learn how to lose altitude without gaining speed!" Flagessio angled her wing so that her secondaries tilted forward, but at the same time she cupped air with her primaries half turned.

Seeing and feeling how Flagessio moved through the air, Rolanda mimicked the positioning of wings, feathers, and even her body as the ground slowly climbed up toward them. Closer and closer she got until she saw Flagessio pull her head up completely and flap hard forward—stalling—landing safely on her hooves.

When Rolanda tried to mimic the landing, she managed to overbalance again and tip backward too much.

Flagessio watched Rolanda land on her back and was about to rush to cradle the mare and protect her wings, but rather than hit the ground, Rolanda bounced and fell into a tumble. "Magic?"

Rolanda was too busy laughing at her mistake to realize she'd stopped moving and was floating a few inches off the ground still. When Flagessio ran up beside her and stared at her hooves, Rolanda canceled the spell. "You don't need a unicorn to cast magic, you just need a talented witch!"

Author's Notes:

Professor Snape: "Would you consider being a Pony considerably better then having that Dark Mark on your arm?"

"I can assure you, any benefit gained by the loss of a little tattoo is more than outweighed by not having any hands." Severus Snape's glare could have cut right through the glass of a computer monitor and come out the other side. "So far, the only point going for it is that I cannot be disarmed."

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Lab

The Opposite of Fury

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To Hermione's delight, classes were still on, but rather than more sitting-around-doing-nothing classes, McGonagall had organized more taste-of-third-year theory for us in a class on Divination. The directions to reach the class were just about as useless as any we'd gotten, but after asking a painting for directions we'd located what we thought was it.

"Mr. Potter." Snape's voice had an edge to it that implied malice beyond reason—as always. I turned just in time to see him walking up to us. "The rest of you can continue to your class, but I have been assigned the delightful duty of privately tutoring you." His eyes rested on me with a malice that wiped away the memory of my saving him and our chat after it.

I turned to watch my friends wander toward the ladder that apparently led to their class, then I helplessly turned back to look at Snape. "P-Profes—"

"Follow me, Potter." Snape turned with what should have been a dramatic turn, but all it did was make his mane flop to one side and his tail swing around. If it hadn't been Snape, it would have been kinda funny.

Down the spiral staircase we'd just climbed. Down further from the North Tower and still down until we reached not just the basement, but the dungeon. Snape didn't say a word the whole trip, and whenever a student saw me, I got a worried look.

Snape led the way into his personal office—the one he'd brought us to the first day of the year, when Ron and me had crashed into the tree—and gestured to a seat. "Sit, Potter."

I made my way to the same seat I'd sat in and eaten sandwiches (that McGonagall had summoned for us), and waited for Snape to continue. When he didn't, I decided to ask what the problem was. "Sir, I—"

Circling the desk to his own seat, Snape tried to climb up into it and instead—when he didn't manage to find a comfortable way to sit—stood with his forehooves on the desk and his back ones on the chair.

"Given our unique situation among all these fools who can't seem to keep from casting a single spell, the headmistress has assigned me to teach you meditation and Occlumency." Snape didn't sit down, but rather glared at me from across his desk. "Which is impossible. You'll never master it, but what the headmistress wants is a student less likely to burn the castle to the ground.

"To this end, we'll start with something simple. Close your eyes and focus." Snape, glaring at me, was the least calm thing I could think of. I still did what he said. "Now, think of your earliest happy thought. What is it?"

Now, I'd heard about meditation and all that, but Snape's office was a far cry from a safe place, and him practically yelling at me was not a good way to think of something soothing. But two years at Hogwarts had taught me nothing if not how to ignore Professor Snape. "My first day at Hogwarts."

"Given what I've heard of the family who raised you, I'm not surprised. Focus on that, Potter, I'm going to use some magic to upset you. Do try to avoid giving in to your anger."

No sooner had he finished speaking than I felt fire rush into my head. Like liquid steel—white-hot—something stabbed at my every thought. "Stop it!"

Snape's eyes had gone pure white and there were red-blue flames licking around the edges of them. Combined with the two opposing chevrons on his horn glowing—or more to the point me being able to see them clearly glowing—made me realize how angry I was getting. "You're burning up, Potter." Snape sounded delighted. "If you burn that chair, I'll see you expelled. Focus on your first day."

"What are you doing?!" Squeezing my eyes closed, I kept my mind locked on my first day of school. Ron and Hermione, joining Gryffindor house.

I felt the fire stab in again, and it was everything I could do not to shout again. I strained to hold my anger at Snape back, but it was too much.

"Ah-gwah-men-tee!" A rush of magic accompanied the words. Just as I snapped my eyes open Snape's water spell hit me square in the face.

My anger only grew. Under me, the chair burned away in purple-red flames, and I snarled at Snape. "Why are you doing this to me?!"

"Because if you can't control yourself, you're useless as a wizard. Where is the calm you showed when you talked down Malfoy's cobra?" Snape jumped fully onto his desk as if to defend it. Glaring at me with those white eyes, he seemed to be daring me to fail. "Find your calm, Mr. Potter."

I tried. My first day of school really was my first good memory. I wrapped the whole day up into a ball of cool happiness and tried to cover myself in it, but my flames of anger roared higher. Opening my eyes again, I glared at Snape—who was still hosing me with water. "Stop that!"

The desk under Snape caught fire—not that it seemed to bother his new body—but his eyes were locked on mine. Perfect clarity, the kind I only had when this angry, let me look at his big eyes and smug smile in all its detail. There was something else here—something I clung to like a life-raft to save me from my anger. Snape looked silly.

Scrunching my snout up, I giggled, and everything went hazy again. Laughter bubbled up and turned my flames off so suddenly that I felt cold at their loss.

"Is this what it takes, Mr. Potter? Laughter?" Snape paced a circle on what remained of his desk, the rest having burned to ash. At some point he'd stopped conjuring water, but not before soaking the entire room. Steam clung to the air making it humid. I kept laughing. "It couldn't have been avarice or—"

My ears perked at Snape's words, but more interesting was him cutting short. "What do you mean?"

"It is a great shame, Harry, that I wasn't allowed to teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts from the beginning." Like a light turning on, the pain in my head was back. Anger and pain rushed in all around me. "What do you get, Harry, when you cross a room full of fireworks with a salamander?"

The words caught me off-guard, they pulled at my ears and made me listen despite the agony in my head. "What?!"

"Blown up."

It took nearly three seconds of intense—angry—focus for me to realize Snape had told a joke. I stared at him in shock and pain—but not anger.

"How many Gryffindors does it take to change a candle?" Snape's deadpan, emotionless gaze settled on mine, though thanks to my eyesight and the steam I could barely make him out. "Don't bother, just convince a Hufflepuff to do it."

"I don't get—AHH!" The pain and fire was back. Whatever Snape was doing was getting me furious. I felt fire ignite around me.

"Knock knock."

The few friends I'd had in muggle school had made reacting to that automatic. Despite wanting to burn everything Snape valued to dust, I had to reply. "Who's there?!"

"You know."

I squeezed my eyes closed. "You know who?"

"You already killed him."

My eyes opened with a jolt and I looked at Snape. My fire winked out and he became fuzzy in my vision again. Jokes. Was that all I needed?

"This isn't going to work all the time, but it might help you keep under control a little better, Harry." Snape had lost the amused look and now just looked, well, superior. "And it had only taken half my office. A simple Mending charm will put things right. You can start with my chair."

"S-Sir," I said, "We tried using that to fix my glasses and my robes, sir. It doesn't work on things my fire has burned."

"Doesn't it?" I'd never heard so much disappointment in Snape's voice before. Standing on the remains of the desk, Snape glared down at the charred (and still smoldering) other half of the dark wooden centerpiece to his office. "Reh-pah-roh!" He let loose a jolt of magic from his horn, but where the magic met ruined desk just resulted in a waste of that potential. "Interesting."

Three more Mending charms—three more failures.

"I'm beginning to see why you disdain clothing, Harry. Is it a form of Fiendfyre, perhaps? It doesn't appear to spread." Snape climbed down from the desk and examined the ruined half of his desk. "Has anything survived this fire?"

I thought about the question. "Uh, Ginny's diary. Oh! And the crystal ponies: Tourmaline, Zircon, Garn—"

"Yes, yes. You don't have to name all of them. So living creatures and powerful artifacts seem immune to it. That's actually convenient." Snape sounded impressed. "If only there were a simpler way to create it."

"Well, sir, there is." Alright. What does being a wizard say? Show him—prove to him. What does common sense say? You're in a room with things that aren't completely burned yet. "Is there a better room to show you in?"

"Imagine that, a second year student with common sense. Are you sure the hat didn't put you in Gryffindor by mistake?" Snape had that fraction of a smile again. "Follow me, Harry."

The adjoining room to Snape's office was the potions room he taught in. He led me through there and into another room behind that. The room looked much more—well—serious. There were scorch marks visible in one corner, but there was also a complete absence of wooden work desk there. "I can make fire there?" I pointed to the corner.

"Oddly observant for someone without their glasses. Yes, Harry, that corner has been warded against the most destructive of flames." Despite his confident words, Snape stepped back to the corner the furthest away from where he'd directed me to cast. "Now, show me."

Two years of Potions classes, and I only realized now how much safer it was than basically every other class (except History of Magic). Every lesson had involved theory or practice, and every one of the latter was done with strictly controlled ingredients and supervision at all times.

By comparison, Charms class consisted of giving us wands and telling us to wave them around. They might as well have given us hand grenades.

I had three choices for ways to make a spell less magic efficient: wandless, gestureless, or wordless. My wand was built in, there was no getting around that (and from what I knew, only the best wizards and witches could do that). Wordless, I knew, was terribly dangerous since much of the pattern of a spell is in the words. Besides, waving my horn around just made me look silly.

"In-sen-dee-o!" I aimed my horn for the corner and wasn't disappointed in the blue-red flames that shot forth.

"Keep it up, Harry." Snape was doing something behind me that I couldn't see, and if I turned my head—No. Common sense wizardry (were those words even able to be said like that? I'm sure McGonagall would have a name for words that just don't go together) dictated I don't do things without thinking through common sense BEFORE wizardry. Turning and looking would result on the room being bathed in flame. Nope! Not turning.

"What are you doing, s—" I didn't get any further. A book landed in the corner where my flames were, and in a moment of incendiary delight, the flames ate it to ash.

Snape made a knowing exclamation. "As I suspected. Even a light enchantment is destroyed on contact. Brace yourself, Harry."

A small orb of glass hovered through the air toward the corner. I watched it as it got closer, and imagined the fire taking a bite of it. If anything, the orb burned faster than the book. Even the glass burned away.

I opened my mouth to ask how much more he wanted to test, when I watched the wire cage holding a white rat float into my fire before I had a chance to douse it. There were many things I was, but a killer of innocent rodents (particularly since knowing Ron's pet rat) was not one of them.

The metal of the cage didn't melt, but burned. It must have been iron, but it fizzed and sparked like a sparkler. The fat white rat dropped from the cage into my fire and ran as fast as it could out of the flames—alive.

I was so startled by the rat's survival I forgot to stop my flames. "Why'd you do that?!"

"Mr. Potter, would you rathered another student volunteer?" Snape gestured at the disturbed but unharmed rat with a hoof. "Laboratory rodents are bred precisely because we don't want to test such things on even muggles! Five points from Gryffindor!"

My flames snuffed out as I let the spell end. Lowering my head, I stared at the rat.

"Leave now. I'll clean up your mess, Mr. Potter."

Acting before Snape could, I stepped forward and offered my foreleg to the rat. Like Scabbers, the rat seemed to sense when it had a way out of a bad situation, and scurried up my leg to hide in my mane. I stared at Snape, daring him to chew me out more for saving a creature. When he didn't, I turned and left.

"Ten points to Gryffindor for Harry Potter assisting in a vital experiment."

I froze in shock. Not even the door crashing closed behind me caused me to move again. Nearly a minute later I felt the rat try to bite me on the neck, but after a few tries it seemed to give up.

Leaving the Potions classroom, I ascended to the basement and then the ground floor. I could still go to the preview class with everyone else, but I needed someone to talk to more than anything. When I needed someone to talk to, there was only one friend who always listened.

The climb was slow because I didn't want to run. Running with hooves on stone was noisy, and I doubted my status on the student council would save me from a prefect's wrath. I reached the owlery tower unharrassed by prefects, and slipped through the door.

"Hedwig?" I tried not to shout, shouting would disturb owls who were trying to sleep. "Are you there gir—" The weight of my first and best friend settled on my back. "Everything's crazy."

Hedwig shifted sideways up my back until she was standing on my shoulders. A single little whistle met my words. She could listen well, but what I valued Hedwig for the most was the way she seemed to communicate exactly what she wanted without distracting me from what I was saying.

"Yeah, I know I forgot to bring bacon, and I totally should have. This is a big one. Girls, Hedwig." I walked to the glassless window nearest to me. The view was amazing, the fall deadly. Hooch zoomed past the tower with Flagessio beside her. "Huh. Not that girl—teacher—thankfully. Luna, Gemma… pretty much every girl is impossible to—Hedwig, what are you doing?"

She was snuffling up and sticking her beak around my mane. I didn't put things together until she barked in excitement and yanked the rat free. I might not kill innocent creatures for fun, but Hedwig wasn't doing this for fun.

"Okay, I guess that counts as bacon?" I asked.

Hedwig made a soft whistle of appreciation.

"Fair enough. I promise I'll get proper bacon next time." I put my thoughts of rats and owls aside and turned back to the problem at hand (hoof?). "Gemma's really nice. She doesn't try to be clingy, and she's never tried to kiss me." The sound of bones being crunched just behind my head distracted me. "And she never eats rats while sitting on my back."

Hedwig swapped her meal from beak to claw and nipped my ear. I kinda deserved it.

We sat together, her eating and me looking out the window and over the school and surrounding countryside while Hooch circled the school again and again.

I tried to ignore the sounds of a happy snow owl eating a rat despite how close she was doing it to my ears. "Then there's Luna. He's nice, and he understands some stuff that not even Hermione can get her head around, but he's got a case of wizard that's so big I don't know if I can keep up with the crazy stuff he does.

"And Hermione. I don't understand her at all, in any way. She's got the opposite of wizard—well, I guess it would be witch for her. Maybe that's different?" I turned my head to look back at Hedwig and wished I hadn't.

"Ron's pretty cool. He chickened out on coming with us once, but the next time he came and was amazing. He beat up a helmeted pony without any magic at all. I think—" My ears picked up something that wasn't owl-eating-rat. I turned my head to see Ron with a terrified expression on his face.

"SCABBERS!" Ron ran over to me, his face turning as red as his hair, but Hedwig was clearly not interested in sharing. By the time he reached me, Hedwig was out the window and gone with her last of her meal. "What were you doing?! She was eating Scabbers!"

"Ron!" I barely got his name out before my friend took a swing at me. "Ron!"

Tears were pouring down Ron's face, ruining his aim on the next swing. "You let her kill Scabbers!"

"No I didn't!" Jumping back away from Ron, I tried to work out how far I had until the window. "That was a lab rat from—" I ducked and jumped to the side, "—from Snape's lab!"

Ron stopped with a confused look on his face. "It wasn't Scabbers? Then where is he?"

"I don't know! Where did you leave him?" I looked back again to work out how close I'd been from diving out a tower and saw my hoof was only an inch or two from the edge. "Also, as if I'd feed Scabbers to Hedwig." I didn't say that I wouldn't because the fat old rat always looked sick with something. Snape's rats, at least, were healthy.

"I left him in our dorm room. It had to be another Gryffindor who did it, Harry." Backing away from me and shoving his still-clenched fists down at his sides, Ron started to turn. "I just need to know where he is!"

"Well, you just chased away who I'd bet money on being able to find him quickest. Hedwig wouldn't eat Scabbers, Ron, but she could have tracked him down. Have you tried asking Addera?"

"I—err—might have accused her of eating him." Ron looked down at his shoes as if they would hold all the answers.

A sudden pang of sympathy for Gemma of all people hit me. Here she was trying to pull all the students together, and all they seemed to want to do was split off into their own houses and then accuse each other the first time something bad happens. "She only has the best senses in the castle. Okay, you get to apologize to her now. Come on."

"Do I have to? She told me she doesn't ever want to see me again." Ron looked up at me as if I would hold all the answers to fixing this. I just looked back at him as if he were a—well—wizard. "What?!"

"What exactly did you say to her?" I led the way down the stairs of the tower.

"Well, when I saw her in our dorm first, I didn't think nothin' of it. Then when I realized Scabbers was missing, I might have said something." I couldn't see Ron's expression—and I didn't want to. When I didn't say anything, he continued. "I might have called her a Slytherin wannabe."

"Ron, you know as well as I do she can't stand them. That was pretty mean."

"I was angry, Harry." All the anger seemed gone for now, but I was pretty sure if I mentioned Scabbers again, he'd get all crazy again.

"Been a lot of that going around lately, Ron. How are you going to apologize?" I started us along the hall toward the Fat Lady, knowing that it being the afternoon meant it was relatively straight so far as stairs went.

"Figured I'd start with sorry, and move on to groveling in the hope she'll help us look for Scabbers. I can't believe he'd just wander off."

Lowering her forehoof from the door, Twilight looked left (at Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash) then right (at Rarity and Applejack) and gave a firm nod to her friends. "We've got this, together."

"Of course, darling."

"Absolutely, Twilight."

"Mmhmm!"

"Yup!"

"Do you think I should have one big party, or one for each of them?"

The question broke all hint of Twilight's focus. She turned to look at Pinkie. "We're here to save them from Sombra by finding the Crystal Heart, Pinkie. We can throw them a party after that." Turning back to the doors, Twilight waited in the chill weather for any hint of an answer.

Her wings itching while she waited with her friends, Rainbow Dash couldn't help but look to the sky. The air in the north of Equestria was chill, filled with the oxygen she knew meant she could push herself harder. She wanted to fly. But, Rainbow was stuck on the ground looking for a rock that would save everypony—or so everypony told her. "How long's this going to take?"

"I-I'm sure they'll answer. Princess Cadance said they were really nice people." Talking to her friends was enough to take Fluttershy's mind off the doors, but when they opened she jumped—then froze. The creatures stood upright, and though there was a lot of them, she could see bits and pieces of pony here and there. The fuzzy mane atop their heads was a counterpoint to so much naked skin.

"So many outfits, but so austere. I mean, uniforms are one thing, but such dark colors? This is an affront to fashion."

"Rarity, ya can complain about their duds later. We got work t' do."

"Headmistress McGonagall." Cadance had been standing behind her sister-in-law (a title that still tickled her pink to use). In Equestria, Twilight needed no authority but her own, but since the humans didn't consider themselves within Equestria, Cadance had decided to lend her own royal oomph to the visit. "I'd like to present the six greatest heroes in Equestria—dispatched by our ruler, Princess Celestia to aid in defeating Sombra."

Minerva watched the biggest pink pony no little girl had ever owned bow and gesture to the six smaller ponies before her. Her eyes scanned the six, seeing a mix of what she'd heard called earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi.

Focusing on each, Minerva tried to guess at what each was good at. The blue pegasus had jumped into the air a moment after Minerva had opened the doors, and continued to hover in place in a manner that suggested a little flightiness, but the ability to keep doing it all day. Probably a scout.

Beside the slim, flighty pegasus was a taller and more stately yellow pegasus with an expanse of pink hair for tail and mane. She looked around at all the students Minerva knew were behind her—the teachers too—and Minerva could swear she saw a calculating smile crease the yellow lips. Probably the brains of their group.

Next came a pony that Minerva had to assume was Princess Cadance's daughter. Without wings or horn, the pinkest thing Minerva had ever seen looked to have an energy within her to rival Albus Dumbledore himself. She made a mental note to be very careful around what she considered a powerful mage.

Moving to the other half of the group, a purple unicorn looked up at Minerva with bright eyes that looked like they searched Minerva's person—like a ne'er-do-well would look at a man with gems and riches on display. Clearly the underhanded member of the group.

Another unicorn was next. Pure white like Prince-Captain Shining Armor, Minerva had to assume another offspring of the pair. She made note of the calculating looks, and easily placed the mare firmly into the category of master spellcaster. No one—no pony—could look that intently at a whole crowd without extrapolating all their weaknesses.

Finally, the most confusing to Minerva, was the orange pony that looked right out of an American Western. She sported a cowboy hat, stood with the same kind of sureness that Minerva had to assume was akin to a gunfighter from the Old West. No matter what, Minerva hoped she never had to face the orange earth pony in a duel, let alone make an enemy of her and turn her back.

Minerva McGonagall could readily see why these six were the heroes of Equestria, they looked—despite the appearance of being even Minerva's childhood dream—dangerous. "How may I be of service?" Not wanting to offend, she let her eyes scan the six one by one, giving them time for the yellow pegasus to take charge.

"Oh!" Cadance stood up straighter. "Forgive me. Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash—" she gestured to each pony with a wingtip as she named them, "—this is Headmistress Minerva McGonagall."

"Please, you can just call me Minerva." It was calculated, but then Minerva was dealing with royalty—asking them to drop her title put her on familiar terms with them.

"Thank you. Minerva," Twilight said while feeling out the unfamiliar name, "We're looking for what is called the Crystal Heart. It's supposed to be mounted within the Crystal Empire's castle, but the only castle here is yours."

That Twilight Sparkle was the pony addressing her surprised Minerva. She turned more attention to the mare, but still scanned along the line just in case. "Could you describe it, please?"

Closing her eyes, Twilight remembered the heart that Celestia had showed her. She focused her magic and produced an exact copy of that image. "Like this. It's supposed to be either a shield or a weapon. I'd hoped that you'd have it somewhere so we could just get all this squared away."

Finding herself liking Twilight's straight-forward attitude, Minerva shook her head, then turned to Albus.

"Minerva, I've talked one of the ponies into giving me flying lessons—"

The voice broke Minerva's attention for barely a moment, but she recognized who it was already, and was quick to respond, "You don't need to ask my permission, Rolanda, especially not something so useful. Though, I appreciate knowing about it. Good luck, dear." The look on Rolanda's face made Minerva smile all the way from her glasses to the bottom of her hooves. Rolanda Hooch was to flying what Severus Snape was to frowning.

"Sorry about that. It's sometimes a little busy running a school, and lately things have been getting more so." It was easy to project that she'd held the job for a long time, but Minerva had known about running the school for a long period—what with being the second-in-command for a good period. "Albus, have you seen its likeness?"

"No I haven't, Minerva. A heart-shaped blue gem of that size would be quite unique indeed. What exactly does it do?" Albus Dumbledore focused over the rim of his reading glasses on the magical image Twilight Sparkle was producing. He wanted to ask so many things—mostly to do with how she made the image—but it was neither the time nor the place.

"It—well—concentrates the joy and happiness (I think) of all the crystal ponies." Twilight, as if realizing something, looked around all the wizards, witches, and younger versions thereof. Every single one she saw that had significant pony changes also had crystalline flesh. "A-Are you crystal ponies?"

"That has seemed to be a common trend within those who've—" Minerva drew her sleeves up her arms to show off her hands and forearms better, "—shown more than the usual changes. We're coping, but without a method to undo this, it seems like a full change is inevitable."

Twilight stepped forward and offered Minerva her hoof. She wanted to hug the woman, but the size difference was preventing that. When Minerva took Twilight's hoof in one hand, Twilight smiled up at her. "We'll try everything we can to get rid of Sombra and find a way to restore you all. Nopony—no creature—deserves this."

Minerva's annoyance pulled her mental faculties up short for a moment as she tried to process being called a creature. She was ready to form an opinion when she realized they might not tie such significance with the words being and creature. Steadying herself, she thought over the words a second and third time. "Such thought is appreciated. We have freed several of the crystal ponies from the grip of those dreadful helmets—"

"Helmets?" Twilight's mind rang with the memory of Celestia's vision. "Dark things, green eye slits, spikes all over?" At Minerva's nod, she winced. "Princess Celestia showed me those. Would it be too much to allow somepony to check in on them and make sure they're okay?"

"What Twilight means is," Rarity said, cutting in, "She wants somepony they might recognize and feel a bond for to see them. I'm sure she didn't mean that you weren't taking the best care of them."

Minerva wouldn't have held it against Twilight if she had implied that. She certainly wouldn't willingly leave a wizard or witch in the care of others not their kind. Her thoughts strayed back to Harry Potter, and leaving him with muggles. "Of course you can see them. I'll arrange for an escort to take whoever you wish through right away." Old arguments boiled her blood enough that she wanted to help the ponies, particularly if that meant stopping Sombra.

"Fluttershy, Applejack, could you both go with them and talk to the crystal ponies?" Twilight was in full delegation mode. She would have sent Rainbow with Fluttershy, but she wanted her fastest and keenest eyed friend to help her search.

Looking after ponies and seeing more of the strange and interesting new creatures filled Fluttershy with confidence. That she had her friend coming too helped boost her spirits. "We can do it, Twilight!" Her shout, of course, barely got above the sound of several hundred students muttering.

Turning, Twilight looked up at Cadance with confidence. "Okay, girls, let's do this!"

For Peter Pettigrew, there wasn't a lot of days in his life that'd been worse than his current one. Since the rush of magic, he'd been afraid to change back to human in case the magic use would cause him to become something else, and combined with him now being held inside the robe of his former "owner", things could have been better.

What made it truly the worst day of his life, though, was the dark spell that kept him from moving and, worse, ate away at the corners of his mind. Throughout his life, Peter had always had a way out of a bad situation, but even years of rat-honed survival instincts couldn't help him.

Unable to tell where they were, Peter nonetheless could tell when he was outside the castle. The chill of winter bit through even Percy's robes. Not even the boy's fur seemed to help Peter stay warm.

This is far enough, Percy. Put him down.

Percy wasn't sure when the voice of his master had been replaced with his sister, but he appreciated the difference and could feel his master's will behind each command. He stopped and pulled the old rat out of his robes before setting him down.

The dark magic had burned something inside Percy, but he didn't mind. This was important work he was doing. "Okay, Ginny, got it."

Now put the diadem around his neck. It won't kill him.

Not wanting to touch the object—he could still feel the dark magic around it was hungry for life—Percy used the rag he'd wrapped it in to carefully set it over the rat. It was a silly thing, it was obviously way too big for Scabbers, but he noticed the rat wasn't affected by whatever curses were in the item.

Scabbers was never Scabbers. Let's find out who he is.

Percy felt conflicted and confused. "Uh, Ginny, what are you talking about?" He pointed at Scabbers. "That's my rat, I'd recognize him—" Dark magic flowed through Percy. Unlike his own magic, Ginny's (and he could tell it was his sister using it) didn't change him, but he couldn't help but feel an oiliness to it.

Before Percy's eyes—and thus Ginny and Sombra's perception, Scabbers screamed a ratty scream and started to writhe.

Peter Pettigrew had been having a comfortable life. Being a pet rat came with a multitude of perks, not the least of which was a bunch of witches and wizards who would protect him. As dark magic ripped away his rodentine features one by one.

Growing, stretching, and even swelling, Peter slowly became the man he once was with an important change—the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw was around his throat, and it was far too small for him to get free of it.

Staring up at Percy—or the form of Percy caught betwixt human and pony—Peter smiled. "Percy! You saved me! Such a smart boy, always getting good marks and helping his pet Scabbers out of trouble. Tell me, boy, tell your pet Scabbers what's going on?"

Author's Notes:

Princess Celestia: Do you have any idea if these wizards are from the same world the mirror portal leads to? If so, do you think passing through it would return the transformed ones to their original forms?

Looking like she hadn't slept in more than a day, Princess Celestia examined the scroll the question came on before, with a droll look, turning it upside down so she could read it. "I am unaware as of this moment as to how Cadance, Shining, or Twilight and her friends are doing. Wizards, you say? I will have to resear..."

Catching her sister in her magic, Princess Luna set the scroll aside and helped Princess Celestia get more comfortable on her throne. "I would not wish to set a precedent by removing my sister from her throne." Materializing a blanket, Luna had the slightest of smiles on her lips.

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"Six more?" I had my head on the floor and was looking under the bed as I asked Dean the question. "How many ponies do you think there are here?"

"Can you see him?" Ron asked.

"I am sure Harry Potter would tell you if he could see your rat, Ronald Weasley." Addera's voice was full of scorn. She was curled up on my bed currently, and had refused to help in the search. "I bet the ponies wouldn't accuse me of eating a foul-smelling rat. Why would I even eat a rat, when there were pork sausages?!"

Climbing down beside me, Ron looked under the bed himself. "I already said I was sorry!"

"And then you went and threatened Hedwig. She is a good owl, Ronald Weasley. She'd want to eat your rat as much as I do." Addera made some noise on top of the bed.

Looking up I saw Addera flicking her tongue out and staring around the room. I'd never seen her do it before, but I could take a guess.

Slithering off the bed and onto the floor, Addera made her way toward the exit. "His scent fades down the hallway leading to the hole."

Ron jerked upright and looked at Addera in surprise. "Thanks!"

"We need to hurry if we're going to find him before next class starts," I said, trotting after Addera.

We headed down the hall and to the hole that led out. Addera reached out with a hoof and gently nudged the fat lady's painting away before slithering out. "And it stops here. There's too many other smells around."

"Then how were you able to smell 'im in the dormitory, then?" As he asked, Ron was looking around outside the entrance to the Gryffindor tower.

I knew the answer, though it was something I'd kept from outright saying before. "Ron, you know how we normally use magic to clean all our things?"

"Yeah. It's been 'orrible over the last few days. I've got a new respect for muggles just from that."

"Ron, you haven't washed Scabbers for nearly four days, and he's not a very clean rat."

Addera snorted. "I could pick out that rat's smell over the scents of all the Gryffindor students because I know their scents. Out here—Let me just say that Scabbers isn't the only one shirking their cleaning duties." She reached down and picked me up.

Not for the first time I felt a little odd about how nice it was to have someone cuddle me against them. Addera's fur was much like my own, and though it was so very soft to snuggle against, she had a complete covering of basilisk scales still. I didn't realize I'd stuck my nose into her fur until her hoof that wasn't supporting me rubbed behind one of my ears.

"Are you quite comfortable, Harry Potter?"

My ears twitched as she spoke. I tilted my head up and nodded. "You're so soft, and you're—well—here."

Apparently a chat was in order since we were waiting for Ron. "You said your parents died. Who were you living with all this time, Harry Potter?"

"My, uh, aunt and uncle. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia—and my cousin, Dudley—look after me when I'm not at Hogwarts." I let out a bit of a sigh at the thought of having to go back there when all this was sorted.

Addera rubbed one of my ears in what I was sure she meant as a soothing gesture. Any animal would no doubt relax and calm down at the touch. It would have annoyed me that it worked, only it worked. "These people, Harry Potter, are not who you'd wish to live with?"

Fighting against Addera was impossible, so I relaxed instead. "What? Of course not. Calling people muggles as an insult is bad, but they're the most muggle muggles that've ever muggled."

"I thought muggle was just a noun, Harry Potter?"

"Not where the Dursleys are concerned. Uncle Vernon works at his brother's metalwork factory—they make drills. Aunt Petunia literally made her life revolve around taking care of her son and their house. And Dudley, he has taken a shine to eating himself into a blob and beating on anyone smaller than him—not exactly a hard thing to be."

"That sounds annoying. Why didn't you just bite h—cast a spell on him?" Addera asked.

"Got my bag!" Stepping out of the hole in the wall, Ron turned and closed the fat lady's painting. "Thanks for holding open for me."

The fat lady beamed in obvious delight at the thanks. "Such manners! Quite alright dear boy. Run along now, you're already late for class."

Ron turned to us and glared at me. "Are you goin' about like that now, or did something happen to your legs?"

"If you must know, I'm trying to comfort him after one of his best friends attacked him, Ronald Weasley." Addera made a point of stroking my ear a few more times before setting me back down on the floor.

A shiver ran through me and I shook myself to fluff out my fur. "He said he was sorry, and I couldn't exactly blame him since Hedwig was eating an actual rat. What class do we have again?"

"Potions," Ron said with all the savor and delight of eating an Every Flavour Jellybean and finding he had made a poor life choice in trying it. "We've got Potions next."

We headed down to the basement, then the dungeon of the castle before we reached the classroom for Potions. We were late, of course, and the moment we entered the room Snape glared at us.

"Ah. I had wondered why my class was so well behaved—it was short three Gryffindors." Snape was standing (on all fours of course) at the head of the classroom and glaring down the aisle between tables at us. "One. Two. Three—"

We rushed to find seats and I jumped up onto one (with a really good jump I might add) before he got to five.

"… Four." Snape looked at us with his bored, deep eyes. "Four points from Gryffindor—for each of Addera, Harry Potter, and another Weasley.

"Now, can anyone who's not named Hermione Granger please tell me what is required to make a shrinking solution?"

I reached into Addera's backpack and pulled out my mirror so I could see more clearly, only to have Snape rear up beside me. "Agghh!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, were you hoping for a quiet class you could sleep through?" Snape's eyes flicked down to the glass on the desk and he raised an eyebrow. "You'll see me after class." He jumped down and walked back to the front of the room in a manner that somehow seemed more malevolent than his normal glide.

So much for my hope that he'd go easy on me. I focused on casting my locomotion spells as quietly as I could and started taking notes.

He droned on and on about the same potion, ensuring to describe every single aspect of its creation in so much detail I figured I'd be able to make it in my sleep. Neville might even be able to make it awake.

All too soon the class finished and everyone was getting up around me. I put my books, quill, ink, and blotter back in Addera's bag and followed it with my piece of mirror.

"I'll see you at dinner, Harry Potter," Addera said before slithering out of the room and leaving me alone with Snape.

Waiting, I sat still on my chair until Snape was done doing something at the front of the class and called me. "Harry, do you still have that rat?"

Right. The rat. Of course he was going to ask me about the rat I saved from his experiments only to feed to Hedwig. "N-Not anymore, sir."

Snape was sitting beside the desk at the front of the room. He looked hard into my eyes as if trying to find answers just by looking. "Pity. I did some further experiments without you present. The results were vastly different from yours. How were you able to control the magnitude of your spell so effectively?"

"G-Gemma Farley helped me with it. She said it was a problem with the efficiency of the magic, and the best way to make it less efficient was to cast with less patterns," I said.

"I see. It's not often that I hear of a Gryffindor student seeking tutoring from a Slytherin, but I approve. Ms. Farley is quite knowledgeable on fire spells, but her true focus is dueling, or so she has shown. You'd do well to learn as much as you can from her, Harry.

"You can go now." His dismissal was sudden and sharp.

"T-Thank you, sir." I turned and trotted down the aisle of desks and out the door as swiftly as I could. I barely turned toward the stairs leading up to the basement when Addera slithered up beside me. "I thought you were going to wait in the great hall?"

"No. I said I'd see you at dinner, and I still will, Harry Potter." There was no sound from her scales working on the stone floor. "What did he want?"

I couldn't help but grin. "He wanted to know where his rat was. I didn't tell him Hedwig got it—That reminds me, I need to find her and apologize for Ron being so stupid." The hallway and stairs didn't even slow us down as we ascended through the castle.

"He really loves that rat, doesn't he, Harry Potter?"

"Yeah. He does. It's been in his family for years. Hedwig's different, though. I don't know how, but I just felt a connection to her when I first saw her. She's important to me." We reached the ground floor and headed directly for the great hall.

"He still shouldn't have said those things, or tried to hit you, Harry Potter."

"No, he shouldn't have." I barely got the last word out as we entered Hogwarts' great hall. A wave of noise seemed to hit me as we walked in. Everyone was talking to everyone else, but just as we reached a spot beside Hermione, McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Everyone? May I have your attention, please?" McGonagall had a knack for getting everyone's attention, though tonight it worked exceptionally well. "I'm sure you all have many questions about our new visitors, and I'm here to provide some answers.

"The land we've found ourselves in is called the Crystal Empire. The ponies, Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor, have assured me that our being here is not just tolerated, but welcome. However, their reason for being here is that when we arrived, we appear to have done so along with an evil sorcerer that had escaped from their justice many years ago.

"This, Sombra, is a nasty character every bit as bad as You-Know-Who, so I expect anyone with knowledge of him to come forward at once. The second delegation that arrived is a special group of heroes who have come specifically to deal with this threat, and have knowledge of a weapon with which to dispatch him. The Crystal Heart is an ancient artifact. It's a huge, bright blue gemstone in the shape of a heart. Likewise, if you have any knowledge at all about it, please step forward at once."

McGonagall paused to take a breath. I couldn't help but marvel at how much information she was giving out. The wildest thing about it was it was the truth.

"Onto more pleasant things. As you heard last night, we have a student council now, and they're hard at work for you—all of you. There will be a quidditch game tomorrow between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw." This news earned a huge cheer from the students. We all jumped to our feet and shouted in excitement. If only I had an idea on how I could play. "Quiet please! Thank you. There will also be sign-ups for a fifth team to compete. Anyone who thinks they have what it takes should please contact Miss Farley."

Gemma stood up and waved. "Could I say a few words, headmistress?" At McGonagall's nod, Gemma looked even happier. "We've got more than just quidditch planned. Heidi—" Gemma waited for Heidi Macavoy to stand up, "—is going to be organizing a wizard chess league, anyone interested in signing up should contact her. Eddie—" it took a bit longer for Eddie Carmichael to stand, but Gemma waited, "—is going to be organizing a game called football, I'm sure enough of you know of it to teach those who don't. And finally Harry—" I stood up, but it wasn't until George grabbed me and held me above his head that Gemma acknowledged me, "—is going to be organizing short courses on all manner of topics. Harry, what do we have already?"

"Go on, 'Arry, wot've you got?" Fred asked.

I cleared my throat and looked out over the crowd of mostly amused students. "We're going to try to encourage everyone to not only sign on to learn something interesting, but also to teach something too. Everyone here knows at least one thing really well—better than anyone else. Addera is going to teach a class on parseltongue—" a lot of surprised muttering met that, "—Hermione is going to teach about muggle studies—but not the kind of stuff in regular classes, and Ron is going to teach the opposite—all the wizard stuff Hogwarts can't teach."

A throat clear at the teachers' table broke the rising babble, and everyone turned to see Dumbledore stand up. "If I may, could I sign up for the parseltongue course?"

Everyone in the great hall tried to speak at once—which was not uncommon—but the problem was they were trying to speak with me—which was uncommon.

"Everyone! Please!" McGonagall had to have used magic, or some item that used magic, to be heard above the whole school. "I'm sure Mr. Potter will be able to arrange sign-ups tomorrow. And please don't forget the other activities your student council has organized. Now, enjoy your meal."

"George?" I asked once noise in the great hall filled the silence. "Can you put me down now?"

"I'm Fred. He's George."

I looked between the two twins and, this close, made out Fred's freckle pattern on the one holding me. "Sorry, Fred."

"Quite alright, Ron. What with you missin' your glasses, you actually have an excuse." Fred let me down and set me back on Addera's coil just as food started appearing on the table.

Dinner tonight was a vegetarian casserole with roast vegetables and—when I thought no one was looking—a pork sausage. I looked at the tube of seared meat and remembered how poorly I'd eaten at the Dursley residence. Using the locomotion charms I'd put on knife and fork, I cut one end off the sausage and dipped it in the gravy the rest of my meal had been covered in.

"Are you sure you want to eat that, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Only, I've been doing research on horses, and it says you shouldn't—"

"Hermione, look." I opened my mouth to show off my teeth. "Ooo feee da fwangs?" Closing my mouth again, I floated my fork up with the piece of sausage on it. "I need to see if it's just something silly or what." And with that I put the pork in my mouth.

The flavor was excellent and reminded me of so many Hogwarts' meals where I ate similar fare. Chewing, I swallowed it and nodded with a big grin. "See!"

Hermione gave me a ruthless stare. "Don't you have a game of quidditch tomorrow?"

I cut off another piece of sausage and nodded before eating that too.

"Well, you'd best hope kirin can metabolize meat, because horses can't. In fact, when a horse eats meat, it has the worst case of gas for days—according to the only book in the library on horse care." Hermione used one crystalline hand to finish her statement with a fork full of the same casserole I'd been eating.

Looking down at the remaining half of my sausage, I hoped that Hermione was wrong. "Well, someone needs to work it out." I had another mouthful.

Besides, if the sausage tasted this good, how could it be bad for me? I kept eating until I finished my plate, but didn't go getting more.

There was a lot I needed to work on for tomorrow. I had to work out how to ride my Nimbus 2000 without falling off, I needed to work out how to see, and hopefully figure some way to be able to grab the snitch.

Severus Snape ate little. He was hungry enough, but his attention was on one Harry James Potter. Two words of Harry's name brought bile to Severus' throat, which is why he was trying to focus entirely on Harry's first name. When he was just Harry, Severus could forget the boy's father. When he was just Harry, he could teach him.

What annoyed Severus most about the situation was that Harry showed promise. He thought logically, he could follow instructions, and when he wasn't reminding Severus of James Potter, he didn't need to be chastised into following classes.

Looking down at the table before him, Severus eyed the little case. It hadn't taken too much effort to put together, but he wanted Harry to learn from it. A test. The meal wound on, and though Severus barely touched his meal, he did nibble here and there at the things he particularly enjoyed—mostly the brussels sprouts.

When most of the students started getting up to leave, Severus stood and used a simple, nonverbal Locomotion charm to float the box along with him. Again, in his head, Severus complained bitterly about his present form—there was simply no way to stride with menace when you were quadrupedal in such a configuration. His attempts earlier in the afternoon had just resulted in what looked like prancing—and that wasn't going to happen.

"Here."

Harry Potter turned and looked up at the bigger and darker version of himself. "S-Sir?" Severus was looking at him expectantly, but without his glasses Harry barely noticed the little box floating before him until it jiggled a little. "What's this?"

"This is a gift and a test, Harry. I'm sure it won't take you long to figure out how it was made." Severus waited just long enough for Harry to cast his own Locomotion charm before dropping the one already active. "Good luck in the game tomorrow. You're going to need it."

"What'd he give you?" Ron asked. Curiosity burned within him as he watched Harry slowly open the little wooden box. "Bet it's a slug. One of them flesh-eating ones. When he watched Harry lift out a pair of glasses, he nearly fell over.

Putting the glasses on, Harry could tell they weren't perfect. They distorted a little around the edges, and the frames were made out of wood, but they worked. "What'd he mean by test?"

With a heartfelt sigh of defeat, Hermione Granger rolled her eyes. "Typical. Why can't he ever give me extra homework?"

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody stood on the landing of the fortress. His coach—pulled by thestrals—soared away into the clouds. Turning slowly, he glared at the ocean with one eye as if daring it to splash him, while the other remained fixed on the edifice that was Azkaban prison.

When the prison came into sight of his remaining natural eye again, Alastor stepped forward with the rolling gait his missing leg enforced upon him. He walked right up to the two guards at the door—each accompanied by a dementor floating just a little further to the side—and turned both his eyes to one then the other. "By order of the Ministry, I'm here seeking answers regarding the missing school."

"Papers?"

Calm as a slaughterhouse in the early hours of the morning, Alastor stepped right up to the guard and pressed his false leg down on the toe of the guard's boot—and worked the clawed end down firmly. "Albus Dumbledore is missing, along with another thousand witches and wizards, and you want to see my papers? Can you swim?"

"Mr. Moody! Please, come inside!" Mopping his brow despite the chill, Archibald Burns was not stupid. He knew that if anyone was likely to break into Azkaban and tear his way through it looking for what he wanted, it was Mad-Eye Moody.

Alastor turned to the wizard who'd opened the doors to Azkaban, he lurched away from the gate-guard. "Finally, someone with sense. What's yer name?"

"Archibald, Archibald Burns. Captain of the Guard at Azkaban, sir." Archibald watched as Alastor shoved all his weight onto the gate-guard's foot before entering the gates. "I heard news about Hogwarts. What can I help you with?"

"Access to these prisoners, a room to interrogate them in, and lodgings for the duration." Alastor walked past the man without even glancing at him with his flesh eye—his enchanted one, however, studied the captain very closely. No wand and no weapons apart from a club. "You're not armed?"

"Azkaban is protected by dementors. Only an idiot would attack. We don't carry wands in case one of the inmates gets hold of them. There are no wands here at all—except yours." Everything in Archibald screamed that he had to ask for Alastor's wand. Everything except for his self-preservation. Mad-Eye Moody's reputation precluded asking him to disarm himself, and given the ex-auror had put a good number of Azkaban's greatest inmates in chains, he had no reason to expect any of them to be able to disarm him.

Stopping in his tracks, Alastor turned his full attention on the captain. "You're not going to ask for mine?"

"You'll need it during your—questioning. Sir, I know of your reputation and deeds, you don't need to surrender weapons at Azkaban. On my word."

"Good man. Glad they have someone with a bit of sense out here. It'd be a shame to have locked all these fools up only to have a bigger fool—" Alastor's enchanted eye rolled back to examine the gate-guard (who was crouched down and examining his clearly broken foot), before turning back to look up and to the left, "—let them all out again. I've only got so many limbs left."

A joke. Archibald Burns was in no way prepared for Alastor Moody to tell a joke, even one so dryly delivered. "Doing my duty, sir. Who do you want to see first? I'll have them escorted to a room. You understand, however, I'll have to have a dementor watching the door."

"Protocol." Alastor pulled a flask from his greatcoat and plucked the end off it before taking a swig. "… Is reassuring to hear. I need to see Rubeus Hagrid. See to it, man."

Rubeus Hagrid kept ducking his head while trying not to make the umbrella hidden down his back stick out. It was a difficult maneuver that required he headbutt every archway—the archways took more damage than he did. "What's goin' on? I was trying t' read m' book."

"You're in for it. One of the aurors is here, and he's got a mess of magic lined up to wring the truth out of all of you. He might even have put you here. Mad-Eye Moody's his name."

Blinking in surprise at the name, then plowing his head into another arch, Rubeus felt the crack of stone this time. "Oh, someone new? That'll be nice. Ya know ya don't have t' keep these chains on me, not they do anythin'." Reaching one hand up, Rubeus rubbed the spot where the archways kept hitting his head—snapping his chains in the process. "Oops."

Used to the half-giant's problem with chains, but not willing to break protocol, Sevasti Gorran led Rubeus Hagrid to the steel-bound door of the interrogation room. Raising his baton, he thumped the door with it three times. "Got Hagrid here, sir!"

"Send him in." Alastor stood behind the table that had the most obvious of purposes. Chains in each corner, there was the stain and smell of old pain wrought into the metal. The table had no hope, however, of accommodating Rubeus. When the half-giant walked into the room, Alastor was thankful he had his wand at his side. "Sit down."

"This is all some kind o' misunderstanderin'. I ain't never hurt no one. Well, 'cept for that mad woman down the 'all. She was a right piece o' work." Rubeus knew—instinctively—what the room was about, and he wanted no part of it.

"I don't care what put you here unless it has to do with Hogwarts disappearing. What do you know of it?" Alastor reached into his coat and drew out his wand. Power vibrated down the length of the old and worn oak, while molten fire bubbled up within the dragon heart-string within.

"The Heir of Slytherin!" Rubeus spoke without a thought. He wanted to tell Alastor everything. He didn't care if he rotted away for the rest of his days, so long as someone saved Hogwarts. "We had students bein' petrified by somethin'. 'Twas a shame, just like las' time. They thought it was me again. That's why I'm 'ere."

"Heir of Slytherin? That rot aga—" Alastor narrowed his eyes. "Wait. I remember you. You're no monster." Thrusting out his hand—the one not holding his wand—Alastor Moody smiled for the first time in about two months. "The Order."

His eyes widening, Rubeus remembered the older man from his days fighting You-Know-Who. Even in his own mind he wouldn't say that name. "Alastor Moody." Relief flooded Rubeus as he shook the auror's hand. "You've gotta believe me, I—"

"Tell me all of it, Rubeus. Start from—Start from the first time and leave nothing out. I want the facts, but I also want your thoughts, guesses, and wild accusations—old friend."

Draco Lucius Malfoy was more curious than ever. She'd gotten through another day of not being noticed for being a girl, though more and more she'd noticed Lucian's focus on tails. Wizards and witches who had a thing for transformation magic usually had things perfectly under control—they'd learn it and be happy for all their lives—but Lucian liked seeing others' tails. Which was why Draco had bitten the bullet and gotten one of the girls in her class to help sew a hole into the back of her trousers.

Not an hour after Draco had had the hole cut than Lucian had focused on her and asked excitedly about getting his own pants done similarly. Favors for favors, Draco had to remind herself. Lucian Bole was just about the biggest brawler in the school—more prone to it than even Gregory Goyle—but Lucian was smart about roughing students up.

The slightest smile creased Draco's lips at the sight of the big guy looking so happy.

"You look happy about something, Draco." Vincent Crabbe sat down beside Draco. "What's the deal?"

Vincent, on the other hand, was big and stupid, but that too Draco had learned was important. As Gemma said, everyone was worth something. "Just wondering what this meeting's all about. Gemma seemed insistent that everyone from Slytherin be here." Lie and truth. Truth and lie. Draco's crash-course in senior student politics was something she had to run to keep up with, but keep up she did.

"'ere she comes." Vincent watched the much older girl walk into the common room and look around. He'd seen that look on his father's face before, and even on Draco's father's face (it was his normal look)—Gemma looked at the students of Slytherin house like she had them all in her pocket. Vincent wasn't the odd man out in that respect—she'd arranged for someone to help him pass his Herbology class. He owed her.

Gemma smiled at each face that turned to her—because they all did. Every single student in Slytherin house owed her on several favors she'd done or arranged for someone else to do. "Normally these meetings are all about politics and mutual back-washing. I'd stand here and give you all a talk specially designed to sway each of you to think exactly what I want.

"Allow me to be blunt, we have a problem." Gemma turned and walked to one of the chalkboards kept in the common room for notices. She scrubbed out everything except the rude comic someone had drawn in one corner—she was hard as a rock politically, but Gemma could appreciate a good fart joke as much as the next first year. "The problem is this: using magic turns us into ponies."

Draco watched Gemma write on the board with a piece of chalk she held in one hand. Gemma Farley being blunt wasn't new to Draco, but her being blunt to everyone was a shock.

"There are a number of ways the situation here will go. I'll start with the most interesting one." Gemma's hand wrought beautiful cursive script onto the board.

Hogwarts is stuck here, we never go home, no cure for "pony" is found.

Even the most compulsive fidgeter in the room was quiet now. The mood of the room turned dour.

"Now, if we hold back, don't cast anything but the most needed spells to save our arses and our lives, we will be left out of most of the integration. That's a bad outcome." Gemma scrubbed off what she'd written and began building a matrix on the board. "Each of these is a possible outcome, each of these is an action we can take."

Along the side was written:

Hogwarts stuck, no home, no cure
Hogwarts stuck, no home, cure found
Hogwarts stuck, portkey home, no cure
Hogwarts stuck, portkey home, cure found
Hogwarts home, no cure
Hogwarts home, cure found

And along the top was:

Try not to change
Change a little
Change a lot
Whole hog

"First one, we hold back, there's no way home, Hogwarts is here, there's no cure. That's a bad outcome." Gemma wrote the entry in then turned to look at Draco. "What about the rest of the line?"

"Well," Draco said, her mind racing to find the answer, "If we change a little, it's mostly as bad as the first one, but we'll fit in a little. The last two would be easier to fix. We'd fit in, we could use our magic in the meantime to gain advantages over the other houses, and—"

"Good! You're thinking well!" Gemma turned around and filled in Draco's answers. "Lucian, what if a cure's found?"

Lucian's mind was elsewhere—the yellow tips of the tail poking out from under the dress of the girl on a couch nearby. He looked up at the board and remembered what Gemma had been talking to him about earlier. "Use magic as much as we can because it can be undone. Might as well go with it all. Not using magic's bad, because we waste our advantage."

"So what you're saying is we might as well do like that Gryffindor girl and Hooch? Sod that," Terence Higgs said. "You've gone daft, Gemma."

"Terence. Wonderful timing. Hogwarts is stuck, we're not, no cure." Gemma glared at her former fellow prefect. "What's the answers?"

"The opposite. If we can go home and there's no cure, we'd be freaks. We'd be lucky if they didn't snap our wands."

"Exactly!" Gemma turned and filled more of the board in. "That goes the same for any returning home result where there's no cure. Here."

Terence noticed Gemma put OK in change a lot. "Why just okay in change a lot? We'd be freaks!"

"Because, in case you hadn't noticed, we'd be freaks that can possibly fly, or be immune to fire, or be able to use a horn as a wand. We'd be freaks, but at a distance Hermione Granger still looks human and with some charms she could pass for one." Smiling as a lot of heads nodded, Gemma turned to one huddle of girls in the common room. "Helena, what do you think of these last two? We could return home and be cured?"

Helena didn't quite enjoy the word stooge, but she was happy to be Gemma's stooge because it meant another step up the ladder. Those who did favors for Gemma got the best grades and were never wanting for help. "Whole hog is best. Use our magic freely and no consequence."

"That's the key. Okay, so let me fill that in too." Gemma took her time writing in the words, waiting for Terence again. Even now she used him. He was her counter, the devil's advocate in the group. If she were constantly fighting the devil, Gemma reasoned, she must be doing something good.

Terence didn't know why letting Gemma have free reign hurt his pride so much, but he found himself unable to keep from poking at her words. "Why do you put bad for change a little on the ones with cure found?

"Remember what Ravenclaw looked like, on the whole?" Gemma asked. "Remember Gryffindor and Hufflepuff? They all have a smattering of pony features among them. Do you want to be just as good as Hufflepuff?"

"So we should change a lot, but keep a little humanity?" Draco didn't see any need to hold back. Cutting in now was cutting in on Terence, not Gemma. When Draco's mentor turned to face her, Draco saw a big grin on Gemma's face.

"I'm not saying you sell your humanity cheap, but don't be stingy. If you are sick of doing laundry, let all of us know so you can do ALL our laundry with one spell. If you really want to show up a Gryffindor, go ahead." Gemma heard the murmuring from all corners of the room. It wasn't angry or charged, it was excited.

Gemma had to wave her hands to settle the students down. "This—" she pointed at the blackboard, "—is a game, but isn't that what we do all day? Isn't that how Slytherin works? We play, we win."

"Everyone else loses?"

Spinning, Gemma missed seeing who spoke, and no one owned up to it. "No. That's the best bit. We're all here to play this game, but you don't need an opponent in this to be able to win."

"So we're going to tell all the other students?" Draco asked, a little shocked.

"Of course not! We lead by example. Gryffindor has been known as the leaders and doers for too long. Slytherin, we're going to show everyone how to be the best by being the best!" The cheering shout Gemma got caused her to shiver from her toes to her fuzzy ears. Heir of Slytherin? Gemma thought, A title for a little man. I would be content only with leader of—of Equestria.

Author's Notes:

Professor Snape: Did the Dark Lord ever mentioned a 'King Sombra'?

Severus let loose a dramatic sigh. "I already told the Ministry every name I knew that was associated with He-Who-Should-Probably-Still-Not-Be-Named. Ever single one. If he had dealings with this Sombra, I was not privy to it."

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Lab

Flying Wizards

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All the way out to the quidditch pitch I looked at the glasses. The frame was made of some kind of wood, but it was harder than wood—almost like stone. The lenses themselves were rough, and I could see where they'd been polished with something that had left no marks on them except at the edges of the glass.

I turned them over again and again to work out what it was about them that made them so light—even the best glasses I'd seen weren't this light.

On my back was my backpack—tied very loosely. I didn't want to be stuck with my broom and glasses if I felt the desire to self-immolate again.

"'Ere 'e is. The smallest seeker in all of quidditch history!" either Fred or George said.

I slipped my new glasses on and noticed the freckles of George Weasley as the one who'd spoken. "Yeah, that's because I only have to focus on the smallest ball. If I was after a quaffle, I'd need to be bigger."

"He's got you there, George," Fred said. "What I don't understand is how you plan to catch the snitch? It's small and all, but you're kinda lackin' in the hand department."

The glasses weren't perfect, for all they were precisely made. The left lens had a slight imperfection at the bottom of my field of view, and the right one had a dot of something in the middle. I wondered if Snape had put those in to encourage me to work out how to make them myself.

"I've got that sorted, boys." Oliver Wood walked over and opened his schoolbag to reveal a baseball glove. "One of the fourth years gave me this to use. Muggleborn, of course, but how else are ya gonna get a muggle solution? Do you think you can work a Locomotion charm on this, Harry?"

"That's perfect!" I couldn't help myself and pronked in excitement. "Yes! I can cast that charm and—Wait, what about my broom?"

"Yeah, Oliver!" George shoved the team captain in the shoulder but given his size, Oliver barely shifted. "How's 'Arry going to ride 'is broom?"

Oliver leaned sideways and shoved George aside. "I left that up to the As and Lav. Girls, what you got?"

It was Angelina who walked toward me with the biggest grin. She held something behind her back and had the devil in her eyes. "get your broom out, Harry, and close your eyes."

I made the supreme mistake of looking at Alicia when she stepped out from behind the stand to my right. "If you think I—"

Humans can move very fast when they had a need to. Angelina was in prime physical condition thanks to the excellent physical fitness regime of Oliver's (mostly just running tons of laps of the quidditch pitch and doing push-ups).

Sadly, I did not move as fast as Angelina. She grabbed hold of me and turned to look at Alicia. "Get his bag off and grab his broom!"

I could have ignited myself. Rats seemed immune to my flames, but I hadn't been particularly annoyed at the rat earlier. I tried to look around to see what Alicia was doing when she got the broom under me. "Hey, caref—"

The sound of tearing caused my ears to stand up straight. Despite my ensuing flailing, I had no chance of avoiding the fate. The sensation of the gaffer tape as it wrapped around my body and the broom made me cringe. Around and around it went, Angelina not holding back until the broom was firmly attached.

I stopped fighting and dampened down my anger by remembering Snape telling—or trying to tell—jokes. "Was this really necessary?"

Alicia was giggling almost non-stop. "Yes!" she managed between laughs.

"To be fair, Harry, you wouldn't have agreed to it if we'd told you what we were going to do." Angelina gestured behind me. "And for the record, it was Lav's idea."

"Hey! You said if I let you tape him to his broom, you wouldn't tell him that!" Katie looked annoyed, but she was fighting to hold back an obvious grin. "Besides, Harry, you can get it off easily enough. Cut your broom free and then just use fire."

Katie, I realized, had a real talent for being a witch. She probably also had talent for being a kirin, but I don't think McGonagall would be happy if I turned another student into a kirin, and besides, I don't actually know how I turned Snape into one. "You're all lucky I'm taped to my broom or I'd check Snape's idea that kirin fire doesn't burn living things."

"It doesn't? Then why did it burn Snape?" Oliver asked. "Look, forget about that. Just don't burn anything when you're playing, okay?"

"Unless a bludger hits him, right?" George asked.

"Yeah!" Fred gave his brother instant support. "I've been 'it by a bludger enough that just seein' 'em gets me angry. 'Arry, if you see a bludger comin' for you, burn it."

"Right!" George said.

"Enough of that, you two. Everyone get on your brooms!" Oliver was in his element, and when Oliver is in his element, brooms and balls are involved.

"Wait. If I'm flying, who's going to be covering for us?" I asked.

"I am!" There was no warning before Madam Hooch swooped down and plowed four ditches in the ground with her hooves before she came to a stop. "Err, I can fix that later." I had to give it to her, her wings looked amazing. She folded them up at her sides and turned—then fell over.

It was a rookie mistake. "You need to turn with all four legs. Maybe I need to teach that class tomorrow?" I asked.

"What, 'Ow to Neigh by Harry Potter?"

"No, no! It'd be Horsin' Around!"

I glared at George and Fred, not that it would do any good. Greater people—wizards, witches, and muggles—than I had tried and failed to suppress either of them, but together they were unstoppable. Turning back to look at Hooch, I saw the excitement twinkling in her eyes and noticed she almost couldn't stand still—a wing or hoof would twitch and she'd move about.

In short, she looked excited and full of energy. Having the first time I'd ridden a broom less than two full years ago, I could well remember what that was like and could understand why she looked ready to pronk.

"Madam Hooch, can we start practicing so these two will shut up?" Oliver asked.

Fumbling with a hoof a few times, Hooch wound up using one of her wings to pull her whistle up to her mouth. "Mount up!" I guess she hadn't really looked at me since arriving, because when she glanced down she froze. "Well, everyone except Harry. I see a solution was found for your falling off your broom."

The whole team giggled—even Oliver. I stuck out my tongue at them and willed my broom into the air. Flying was just as good as I remembered it being, even taped to my broom. Awareness of my team taking off slipped away and I did a series of loops that had me shouting for the pure excitement of it.

Fred and George slipped up on each side of me and hemmed me in to flying straight. I looked at each of them, shouted a laugh, and did a loop-the-loop.

"Harry!" Oliver's shout cut through the thudding of my heart in my ears, and I finally worked out that I was meant to be training with the team. "Harry, get over here!"

I didn't feel the least bit sorry for my excitement as I flew over to the group. Oliver looked just about as happy as I felt, and even the As and Katie seemed excited to be practicing as a full team again. Realization struck me about how much I'd been missing without my glasses. Even the imperfect ones I was wearing let me pick the difference between the twins, catch Alicia looking at Fred, and even see the excitement in Katie's grin.

"Alright, same teams as last practice. Harry, you'll be our seeker. We'll play with a bludger, so keep an eye out for it." Oliver circled his broom around and headed for the goals. "Madam Hooch! Can you release a quaffle, a bludger, and a snitch?!"

Looking down, Hooch looked about as excited as any pony I'd ever seen, even the fillies that we—My brain did an about-face. I hadn't seen the foals for a while and wondered where they were.

"Harry! Look out!" Katie's shout, and the discipline of two years of quidditch practice, saved me as I jinked my broom sideways as the bludger came rushing through the spot where I'd just been.

The bludger had been intentional, I realized. With it zooming up at me, I had to take my eyes off the snitch that Hooch also released. Soaring up above the practice game, I scanned around looking for the snitch, only to spot the bludger coming at me again.

This time, however, Fred was already positioned to deflect it back down. "What you doin', George? You call that a strike?"

"'Arry's gotta be on his toes—err—hooves!" George seemed completely unrepentant, and I had to agree that sending a bludger or two my way did make it seem more like an actual game.

Scanning for movement, I flew a circle pattern around high above the pitch below. I couldn't see the snitch, but I did see movement in the stands. Two ponies had arrived and settled onto a bench beside each other. I watched them for a few moments picking out the pegasus who'd been our mission earlier, and the unicorn that'd given Hermione a quick rundown on horns.

I shook my head to clear it of the distraction, and from one head-shake to the next I spotted the snitch. Willing my broom to pitch forward, I entered a steep dive with my glove held out before me.

"George! The snitch!" Alicia said while pointing at the tiny golden ball.

George, who was shepherding the bludger with his bat (probably looking for a good opportunity to send it my way again, swung and hit the angry black ball with a thump, sending it at the snitch! "Gotta work harder than that, Harry!"

The bludger shot through the air faster than I could, and reached the snitch a moment before I got my glove on it. I tried to track the golden arc the snitch took off in, but a sense of danger made me look back in time to see the bludger slam the wall and bounce right back for me.

"Hold it!"

Oliver's shout didn't distract me from the bludger—if I had turned my attention elsewhere it'd smash my broom and me into several pieces (probably still taped together, mind you). I ducked and pushed sideways into a spiral around the path the bludger was taking, and it whistled past my ear.

George and Fred ganged up on the bludger and between them caught it and wrestled it to the ground and into the chest beside Hooch.

Hooch looked excited. She held the snitch in the feathers of one of her wings—something that shouldn't have been possible. She leaned down and carefully put the tiny ball into its socket and closed the box. "That was the most impressive move I've seen with a bludger, Mr. Weasley. Who taught you that?"

"Just somethin' I came up with on the spot. Since we don't 'ave a seeker, our only chance of winning is if 'Arry doesn't ever get the snitch." George looked supremely proud of himself.

Katie groaned and punched George in the shoulder. "You idiot. If no one gets the snitch, the game doesn't end."

"Yeah, but then I get to keep pitching bludgers at Harry!"

"Enougha that. It was a good idea, George. I don't think I've ever seen someone attack the snitch like that before. The best part is that the seeker can't stick around and chase the snitch because they've got a right-angry bludger on top of 'em." Oliver looked like he'd just been given a whole candy shop.

"See! It was a good idea!" George stuck his tongue out at Katie.

"Well at least it just got easier to tell you apart," Katie said. "George is the one with a big head!"

Everyone laughed, even George, but it was Hooch who finally broke up our laughter. "The question is, how are you going to use this?"

"Well—" Oliver walked back and forth a few times, how he generally thought about strategy, "—it's going to be situational at best. I mean, it's something we do when Harry hasn't got a hope of getting the snitch, but the other side is about to."

"Right, but we can't use it at all if our beaters don't practice for it." Angelina poked Oliver in the chest with one finger. "So, captain, how do we practice this?"

Oliver spun around to look at Hooch. "Madam Hooch, do—"

"Just Hooch is fine on the pitch, Mr. Wood," Hooch said. "Unless you'd rather Rolanda?"

"Sorry, Hooch. It'll never happen again." Wood's expression showed a measure of excitement. "If you don't mind me askin', what's it like?"

Like magic, every head turned to look at Hooch, though I could guess what her answer was going to be. Everything I'd seen (since getting my new glasses) so far told me that Hooch loved being a pegasus.

"It has downsides. Don't even get me started on trying to sleep when the slightest twitch makes these—" Hooch gestured back at her wings, "—flap. And you saw the result of thinking about movement with two legs when you have four." A big grin creased at the corners of Hooch's muzzle, and she took a deep breath and spread her wings. "But flying is amazing! I don't need a broom! I fly faster than any broom could! I can soar, and dive, and do all the things I've always wanted!"

"Except land?" Fred asked.

"I'm learning!" Hooch laughed. "But don't rush into this. We're hopeful we'll find a way to undo the changes, but it's not certain." She looked down at me. "I do wish I'd gotten a horn too. Seeing what Professor Snape can do with his makes me a little jealous."

Normally stoic and unflappable (even in my head that was a bad pun), Professor Hooch almost looked and sounded like a first year casting their first spell. She was still bouncing from hoof to hoof like she had too much energy.

"How about ten A.M. tomorrow for the first class on what to expect?" I asked.

Hooch rounded on me, somehow looking even more excited. "Consider me already there."

"After your morning fly, right Hooch?" Fred asked.

"Absolutely correct!" Hooch looked unfazed and unrepentant. "Miss Flagessio promised that with work, I'd be able to hover within a month."

George had the look in his eyes that warned of an impending gag. "And land in a year!"

Two years of Snape being the worst ogre of a teacher, and I could have marked him as my favorite just for giving me these glasses. The challenge he'd given me of working out how to make more was so intriguing that I kept coming back to it.

Wood that feels like stone is easy, I'm sure some wizard decided he needed to turn wood into stone—it's practically one of the most wizard things I could think of doing with wood. I'd ask Hermione about it later. Why the stone wasn't shattering? No clue. How he'd made glass this light? No clue either.

"Harry?" Oliver asked.

I blinked in surprise, having been a little distracted. "Uh, sorry. Wait! You all had these ideas for getting me on my broom and a way to catch the snitch, but how did you expect to get me to be able to see it?"

Oliver looked confused. "Those're reading glasses right? You only need them for books."

"No! These are for seeing anything that's further than a foot past my face. If Snape hadn't given me these, I'd be blind as a bat!"

"Here." Fred lightly pushed Oliver aside. "Professor 'ten points from Gryffindor' Snape gave you glasses? Did you check them for booby-traps? Maybe they have a dungbomb dispenser?"

"Maybe something that sets you on fir—No, that wouldn't work." George pushed Oliver even further away as he crowded in beside his brother. "What if they freeze you when you catch fire? You should test it!"

"George?" I asked.

"Come on, Harry!"

I groaned at his enthusiasm. "George? No."

"I'm George, he's Fred," Fred said.

"That won't work now, Fred. I can see. Oliver, is it okay if I go and get all this off me now? I might need to have an early night before the big day tomorrow." I didn't have to feign my yawn, it was the real deal.

Oliver blinked, then looked around as if noticing the failing light for the first time. When he got in the zone for quidditch practice, he got really in the zone. "Y-Yeah, Harry. I think we might all take off about now. George, Fred, practice first thing in the morning."

"First thing is midday, right?" Fred asked. "Only we have a date tomorrow morning."

Alicia noticeably jerked at the word "date".

George noticed too, because his smile got nearly ten times wider. "Yup! Our first proper lesson in parseltongue. Who'd'a thought we'd be attending classes on the weekends, right Fred?"

"Wait. You're taking classes in parseltongue?" Alicia asked, looking right at Fred.

George cut in before Fred could. "You know us, Alicia, when we get to studying we just can't stop. Why, I remember when Flitwick asked us if we wanted to do extra work studying how to make bottle rockets. Well, who could have turned that down?"

"You could come too, Alicia." Fred sounded different, and when he looked into Alicia's eyes, he looked different.

"You know," Alicia said, "I think I might."

I thought back to my confessions to Hedwig, and promptly willed my broom into the air to escape the situation. Wizard school was complicated, it was made more so by being turned into whatever a kirin was, I didn't need crazy girls to add to all that insanity. The worst bit was, most of the girls were witches, which was entirely like a wizard, I'd learned.

Right now I just wanted to go to bed and hide until tomorrow (the weekend) comes. Then I remembered I was still taped to my broom, and sighed.

Minerva McGonagall reached up to adjust her glasses. It was an old habit she'd acquired when encountering something that absolutely flummoxed her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple for a moment. "Would you mind repeating that?"

"I was a prat. An idiot. Probably illegally stupid and dangerous. Should I go on? Perhaps I should. I was a danger to everyone around me, and I want to make amends for that." Gilderoy Lockhart dipped his head in acknowledgment of past-self's sins. "I want to help."

"You'll forgive me for sounding skeptical. Despite Poppy's assurance, I still find your presence in the school to be nothing short of a minor catastrophe. What is it you think you can do to help us?" Minerva had an idea what he could do to help. She'd long thought she needed a footstool for her couch, and the red of Gilderoy's hair would match the couch's color quite nicely.

"Poppy mentioned you still lack a lot of information about the process of becoming a pony. It's not just the least I can do, to volunteer myself. I need a fresh start away from this face and this name."

"You're going to do it anyway, aren't you?" Minerva asked.

Gilderoy nodded with a smile that was more genuine than any Minerva had seen on his face before. "That was the plan, but since I was going to anyway I thought I would ask if doing so could help. All I ask is that you don't mention your subject's name."

"On one hand this is something that would benefit our understanding of this matter, but on the other I see a man who has slipped out of so many problems that he may be using this to escape justice and continue his work." Minerva delivered what she hoped was her best over-the-top-of-glasses look she could. It'd worked wonders on generations of students.

"I can't escape his legacy. Very well, Headmistress McGonagall, you've left me no choice." Gilderoy straightened in his chair. "Do you have any positions vacant?"

"You almost failed transfiguration, if I remember correctly." For Minerva McGonagall, nothing defined her more than the success of her students. Gilderoy Lockhart had never been one she considered a success. "Which means you doing this is delightfully ironic. Are you sure you're willing to do this?"

"If you make the mistake of reading any of my books, and you read between the lines, you'll probably find I wasn't very good at a lot of things. Let me be good at this."

"Very well. I'll call in Albus and Poppy, if you don't mind. I'd rather not be the only one to witness this—there may be something I miss." Standing from her chair, Minerva realized she was not going to have an early night like she'd hoped.

Once Gilderoy was out of her office, Minerva had another problem than calling in her fellow observers. "How am I going to get the man a wand to use?"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, why are you supporting me in this?" Sombra had felt stronger while working with his mind-slaved minions, and he knew his voice was more firm in Ginevera's mind. They stood in a camp of helmeted ponies—safe from meddling—with Peter Pettigrew pinned to the ground by dark ribbons of smoke.

'You know why I'm doing it. You said yourself you can see into my head. I'm doing this so my brother doesn't have to.' Looking down at the terrified man, Ginny recoiled a little. She shared Sombra's senses and wished that the pony sense of smell wasn't so good.

"A good answer. You also hope for leniency against your other brothers, which I'll grant if you work with me. This creature is going to be your first minion. Let me show you what you need to do to it." Sombra began building a framework of a spell design and shared it with Ginevra.

Compared to the spell patterns she was used to dealing with, the pattern Sombra shoved toward her was massive to Ginny. She began inspecting it, finding the important parts and assembling it in her own head. 'What does it do?'

Sombra wasn't just relaxed with Ginevra now, he was excited. A willing supporter was something very different to his normal cronies, and having her as a student made him practically shiver in excitement. "This will control him. You will be able to ride in his head as you do in mine, but with this spell you will have complete control."

'Imperius—' Ginny might not have had breath to gasp with, but she felt like gasping all the same. She'd been raised in a wizarding household with a father who cleaned up messes for the Ministry. Ginny knew what the three curses no wizard or witch should ever perform were, and knew their effects. 'This is bad.'

"Bad?! Let me show you bad, Ginevra. Come, watch what this beast has done to his own kind."

Ginny recognized the spell Sombra cast as the same one he'd used to plant himself in her head. She gasped, his power reaching for her and pulling her with him into the mind of Peter Pettigrew. The last sight of the real world Ginevra had was of ponies forming up into rank and file.

'There are three sides to this beast, Ginevra, we will start with the Fool.' Sombra had taken apart several minds, but none had left him feeling quite as dirty as the one he now broke apart. 'His first day at school, his efforts in class, and even the pact of brotherhood to those that defended and supported him—it was all the Fool.'

As Sombra spoke, Ginny saw all the things he mentioned. Peter as a young boy attending Hogwarts, getting into trouble and getting out of it again with his friends. His ability to turn into a rat was even tied to this cover. Being within Peter's mind, however, Ginny could always feel that he was living a lie in the scenes.

'The seconds form is the Trickster. He found a new master one day and aligned himself with him in secret. He fed his new master information—information is power. His master used every piece of power he gave to destroy the lives of Fool's friends.' Sombra flicked up a litany of memories where Peter conspired with Voldemort.

'Who're they?' Ginny asked, reaching out to grab a particular memory of Peter and three of his friends turned into animals.

The names bubbled up from the nicest parts of Peter's mind.

Padfoot.

Prongs.

Moony.

'Wormtail.' The last name Ginny pulled from Peter herself, wrenching it from him. 'What are their real names?'

The mind around Sombra and Ginny trembled, but again the girl sent out the spell Sombra had taught her, and Peter stilled.

Sirius Black.

James Potter.

Remus Lupin.

Sombra purred at the feel of Ginevra expressing her will through darkness. 'You recognized one of those. Potter.' He turned his attention outward. 'Who was James Potter, slave?'

James and Lily Potter appeared in a home. Albus Dumbledore was present and casting a spell. Power wrapped around the little cottage around the Potters and Peter, but Ginny was more focused on the fifth person present—a baby.

'Harry!'

'Harry Potter. A young wizard. Shall we see what happens, Ginevra? Shall we watch as the Trickster's master plan come to fruition and give birth to the Crony?' His assistance wasn't required. Sombra watched as Ginevra assembled the complicated magic (using his own power to fuel it) and yanked Peter's mind to the scene he'd described. 'By all means…'

Days, weeks, and finally two months sped by. Peter lived in the sleepy little town while his very existence protected the Potters. Ginny watched how he caught an owl one day and bespelled it to take a message to Voldemort.

The name of the Dark Lord writhed and squirmed in Ginny's thoughts. She watched on as Peter invited Voldemort to the little house with all the magical protections, bypassed all those protections, and let Voldemort kill.

'The Lackey at last. His will is the will of his master. You see now why I have no restraint when it comes to bespelling this piece of filth? His very existence is an affront to order. Even now he would wear one of his masks—whichever he thinks will cover the Lackey best—and lie to us, Ginevra.'

'Show me the spell again.' In Ginny's mind she could see green flares of light leaping from Voldemort's spell—reflected in the windows of the cottage. She'd never wanted to hurt someone so much as she wanted to hurt Peter. He was the one who killed Harry's parents and who tried to kill Harry.

'Together we can cleanse such filth, Ginevra. Monsters like he should not exist. Use this spell and the only face he can show us is the Crony.' Again King Sombra showed Ginevra Weasley the spell that evolved (on Earth) into the Imperius curse.

Ginny didn't hesitate. Once she had the spell straight in her head, she pulled on Sombra's magic and flooded the pattern with power—then she aimed it at Peter Petigrew. She loomed, strained to hold the spell and hold it on target, but like with all magic intent did most of the work.

Peter Pettigrew had known fear before, of course. He'd grown up as part of the Marauders, he'd fought against Lord Voldemort, and then he'd joined the dark wizard. He'd been caught after his betrayal and spent the intervening years in hiding—fearing one day to the next for his survival. But despite all this fear, Peter Pettigrew had never feared anything like the spell the specter in his head was casting on him.

Piece by piece, Ginny wrapped Peter's mind in chains and shackles. She bound him with dark magic and, when it was complete, she felt a measure of rightness she'd not felt before in her life. Casting such an immense spell had not been easy, but it had worked. 'Sit up.'

Any thought Peter Pettigrew had about remaining on his back evaporated from his mind, as did any of him standing—he hadn't been told to stand yet.

'Very good, Ginevra. Come, let us leave his mind and prepare for tomorrow.'

Even as they withdrew, Ginny could feel a connection to Peter. A leash. She shook her thoughts into order and tried to contemplate what she'd just done. She'd cast what was unarguably one of the Unforgivable Curses. She controlled and owned another human being. 'What's tomorrow?'

'Tomorrow is a quick and simple skirmish, and you get to help me decide who joins us and who wears a helmet.'

Trust was never something Ginny expected to feel in this particular relationship, but her inclusion in his plans was enough to convince her that what she was doing was the right thing to protect her friends and family.

The short, straight wand felt odd in Gilderoy Lockhart's hand. Given how long he'd been making those horrible books—plus how old he was—he'd been using magic for many years, and he could understand that the feel of his wand in his hand would feel right. This was not his wand.

Gilderoy wasn't doing so well as he projected, mentally. His thoughts kept reaching for information and ideas that should be there, but that were blocked from his waking thoughts by magic. Not that he wanted those parts, if they resulted in the old Gilderoy Lockhart.

Albus Dumbledore had more patience with new students than Minerva McGonagall. She was thankful she'd invited him for his expertise on transfiguration magic, but she was happy now that she wasn't the one having to teach Gilderoy how to cast his first spell.

"Try it again. This time keep focus on the light you want to see," Albus Dumbledore said.

"It feels so familiar, but I can't remember one whit of it. Let me see…" Focusing his will on making his wand light up, Gilderoy opened his mouth with that intent at the forefront. "Loo-mos!"

Soft at first, but then with increasing intensity, Gilderoy's wand tip began to glow. Though he stared at the expression of his magical talent, everyone else stared at Gilderoy himself. After nearly twenty seconds had passed, Albus lifted his charged quill and pointed to the top of Gilderoy's head. "It's starting, dear boy. Keep it up for a little longer."

Straining to keep his focus on the wand and the light, it was the first twitch of his new ears that finally broke Gilderoy's focus. He gasped in surprise and the light of his wand winked out. "My ears?" He felt drained beyond all reason.

"Have changed. I'll say they're a bit more red than your hair," Albus said.

As the old wizard spoke, Gilderoy could feel his ears twitch and turn to focus on him. The voice was much clearer and in better focus once they had, and he wasn't too upset with the fact he could hear better. "I guess that's just the start."

"You can stop if you'd like." Minerva had had a change of heart when she'd seen how hard Gilderoy worked to relearn magic. It struck home the fact that he really wasn't the person he'd been.

Gilderoy had the unique opportunity of being able to urge two teachers to speed up their note-taking. "No. Please take your notes and tell me when I can continue." Though he put on a brave face, inside he was screaming for peace. Three days of bedrest hadn't prepared him for the strain of dealing with more people than just Poppy Pomfrey and the strain of casting magic.

Looking down at his own parchment, Albus finished sketching the third drawing of the ears growing. He added a fourth of them fully formed to round out the series. "I'm ready when you are, Minerva."

At the headmistress' nod, Gilderoy lifted the wand again. It felt lighter in his hand now—easier to hold and use. He'd thought Minerva McGonagall had been joking when she said the wand needed to accept him, but now he felt a tenuous connection with the odd little stick. "Loo-mos!"

Gilderoy's light was brighter now, more sure of itself—even if he wasn't. He felt the energy flow out of him as he maintained his will on keeping the wand lit. A sharp shove under Gilderoy's rear made him jump to his feet and spin around to see what had bitten him.

"Relax, Gilderoy, it's just your tail coming in." Minerva looked to Albus with a little curiosity—she hadn't seen the extent of his changes, but then she realized she kept her own hidden. Looking down at her page she was writing, she saw her glittering fingers. She kept most of her own changes hidden.

"A tail, but of course. You—uh—want to see it, don't you?" Gilderoy suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Turning around, he reached down the back of his pants and carefully drew the tail out. It felt strange—a new body part—but at the same time it felt nice. This new part of him was something the old Gilderoy Lockhart never had, and was the first inkling he had of not being that man at all. His brain told him there were muscles there he could use, and he twitched them.

"Well, the first question being Can you use it is superfluous." Minerva looked at her notes. "Can you feel it?"

Turning as far as he could, Gilderoy looked over his shoulder and down. His tail was bright yellow with an orange highlight through it. The color made him feel happier, brighter. He cast another light spell without prompting.

"Tell me when to stop. I'm going to focus on this as long as I can." The spell was even easier for Gilderoy now, and the wand practically jumped to his command. A bright glow filled the room and he felt his legs changing.

Leaning down and parking his rear carefully back on the seat, Gilderoy ensured his new tail hung off to the side while he reached down with his spare hand and pulled up one leg of his trousers. "That's quite off-putting." He watched the bones in his leg twist and reshape, the muscles whipping and latching on at new points, then a wave of fur spread down the length of the limb and coated it in orange-red hair.

This was all changing, warping, and redefining him. He loved it. Gilderoy Lockhart was a man of great deeds that were all hollow and fake, but he could be a pony that actually backed up his words. He wouldn't be Gilderoy Lockhart at all, soon, even if it took him all his strength to do it.

When the wave of fur suddenly turned translucent, Albus called a stop. "Please pause there. I need to describe what I just saw and without magic that's become rather slower than usual." His quill charged back with ink and he wrote another line, blotted it, then repeated the action again and again as he filled in a full page of the notebook.

Minerva was sketching rather than writing explicit notes. She tried to draw as quickly as she could, and almost cursed her quill out loud for its inefficiency. At last she had a series of drawings of Gilderoy's leg as it changed, with an extra note that his flesh changed at the end. "I'm done. Albus?"

Poppy, having sat back silently so far, looked Gilderoy in the eyes and saw both the elation and wear that filled him. "Are you able to continue tonight?" She was giving him a clear and obvious way out, he could put the rest off until another time just by saying no.

"Thank you, my dear Poppy, but this is something I must continue. I don't know why, but tonight feels right for starting new things, and what newer thing could I start than my life?" Gilderoy wondered where the poetic side had come from—his former self hadn't seemed (at least in his books) to have an ounce of poetry in his soul at all. This was new, then, and new things were what Gilderoy wanted to embrace. "Let me know when I can continue."

"I'm surprised," Poppy said, "That he's changing so quickly from such a small spell."

"He's actually expelling quite a bit of energy thanks to inexperience. Were Minerva or I to cast this spell, we'd have to keep at it for an hour or more to have the same effect." Albus finished off the second page describing just the resultant change to Gilderoy's flesh. "I'm ready when you are."

When Minerva nodded to him, Gilderoy took a deep breath and started the spell again. The wand felt like an extension of his arm now. Magic poured from him and through the wand to its tip, and as it did so he felt his torso change. Holding back a shout of excitement as he felt organs and major muscles adjusting, Gilderoy stopped when his hands changed—fingers buckling inward—into hooves. "I think—I think I'm almost done."

Joy shouldn't be what filled him, but it did. He wanted to be new, he needed to be new—even if he felt like a wrung-out rag.

Bending down, Gilderoy pressed a hoof on each side of the handle of his wand and lifted it back up. "Will my head finish changing, or will my posture change, do you think?"

Minerva shuddered. "Please don't mention such things where the students can hear. The Weasley boys will open a book on every single student if they get the idea to." As she spoke, her hand worked to quickly add detail to the sketch of Gilderoy picking up his wand with both hooves. "You're quite calm about all this. Are you sure you're alright, dear?"

Turning around to look at Minerva, Gilderoy spotted his reflection in a mirror across the room. He was almost unrecognizable as Gilderoy Lockhart. Pony ears, pony legs, pony arms, and a pony tail. "Today was the last day Gilderoy Lockhart lived." He didn't wait for Albus or Minerva—Gilderoy raised his wand, put his will toward the spell, and spoke the magic word.

Wavering a little as even more magic pulled from his body, Gilderoy shuddered as new magic flooded in to fill the empty place. It felt so full of life and different from his previous self that it was like washing away the last vestiges of the actor his former self was.

Brighter and brighter, Gilderoy's wand almost shone like the sun as his face pushed forward and his jaw rearranged itself. He shook his head for the sheer joy of it and suddenly felt done. Nothing more was changing.

Carefully putting his wand back into the pocket of his coat, the pony who'd been known as Gilderoy Lockhart stood up on its hind legs and stretched—then grabbed for his pants. "Sorry. It appears I've lost a little weight."

"You can stand upright?" Albus wished for his note-taking spell. His hand was already cramping at all the writing, and he suddenly had great sympathy for his students. "Remarkable. It seems like every case of this so far has had different results."

"So far our only theory is it depends on age—baring Mr. Potter, which had extenuating circumstances, and Severus as well." Minerva sketched and sketched like crazy. "Could you try something for me, Gild—"

"Please, I'd rather not use that name. The man named Gilderoy Lockhart is gone." And he was. There was no hint that he was Gilderoy Lockhart. A glance in the mirror showed a pony wearing the rags of clothing that'd formerly fit him so well.

Minerva, who had grudgingly admitted to herself that Gilderoy seemed to be on the right path, agreed. "Do you have a new name picked out, or would you like us to come up with something?"

Thrusting one bright red-yellow hoof out, the pony smiled. "I heard all those ponies and their colorful names. Fire Glow seems to fit the aesthetic, and my new look."

"Well—ahem—Fire Glow, could you be so kind as to try walking on all fours for me? Or at least pose and tell us how it feels. Is it more natural, less?" Minerva couldn't keep from actually smiling at the raw look of excitement and happiness Fire Glow showed.

Leaning forward, Fire felt his balance tip and he landed on his forelegs with a thud. "It feels easy enough to stand like this. Let me try walk—" As soon as he took a step, Fire tripped on a sleeve of his shirt (that was now too long for him) and fell into a heap. He managed one laugh, the first of his new life, and then the last of his strength faded and Fire Glow closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

"Perhaps we should all sign up for young Harry's lessons on walking?" Albus asked.

Author's Notes:

Professor Snape: No disrespect intended sir, but you seem to be much more light-hearted since your dark mark was removed. Is that just because of the relief of having it gone, or is there any chance that it was negatively affecting your personality?

Severus looked at the question, then to the writer. "Do I really have to answer these? They're so—"

"The quicker you answer, the quicker I can finish writing this and go and have a hot cocoa, and the quicker you can go back to brooding."

"I am not proud of the particular time of my life I got that mark. James Potter—" Severus winced at just saying the name, "—didn't deserve that, and L—" Shaking his head, Severus moved on. "The dark mark that He placed upon me was a burning iron in my very soul. I'd never tell the boy to his face, but despite the physical impediments it has presented, I am most—almost—thankful." The kirin looked like he'd just been forced to swallow a wasp nest.

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A New Day In Equestria

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The cold of Hogwarts castle failed to find me. There was something unique about sleeping wrapped in giant snake coils that felt better than any bed—soft or rough, warm or chill—I'd ever slept in before. I yawned within my nest and my mind stirred just long enough to remember what day it was. Never even opening my eyes, I drifted back off to sleep before something woke me further.

I could feel an odd twitching, but it wasn't physical. There was something magical going on nearby, and all I could sense from it was that it was bad. Maybe it was my history beating down evil arch-wizards, but I'd developed a sense for when something really bad was happening, and something really bad was happening.

—Harry Potter?— Addera's voice tickled at my left ear, or rather Addera's snout tickled my ear. —You are jerking and twitching in your sleep. Are you well?—

Any language from Addera would sound relaxing to me, I swear it. Her voice just seemed nice to listen to. —I was having a bad dream. I think something bad's happening.—

Addera squeezed a little tighter. Within the confines of her coils, it was more like a hug than the death-grip of a huge predator. —Then we can leave. We can go away from the danger, Harry Potter, and come back once the adults have dealt with it.—

—I can't do that, Addera. All my friends are here. Besides, I have a knack for these things.— I shoved my snout forward, sensing where her head was from her earlier words, and pressed it against the underside of her neck. I nuzzled into the spot where her jaw met her throat and inhaled deeply. It wasn't easy to tell her I had to stay, but it was the right thing.

I felt Addera's mouth nibble at my left ear. —You are too brave, Harry Potter. My life would be far less complicated if you were a coward.—

"We should get up. We both have classes to teach today, and I have a quidditch match late—" I yawned and squirmed in Addera's grip. "… Later. Is anyone else awake?"

"Dean muttered about doing a job for George and got up earlier. Everyone else is asleep." Uncoiling herself and throwing off the blankets she'd buried us in, Addera lifted me out of her grip with her forelegs—arms. I really had to work out what to call those.

"Thanks. I think I'll have a shower and get ready early. Seemed like everyone wants me to give them the secrets to walking properly with pony legs." Dropping to the floor, I shook myself all over just like a dog. It felt good to stretch and move, but part of me wanted to jump back onto the bed and dive into Addera's coils again. "Addera?"

"Yes, Harry Potter?"

"Are those forelegs or arms?"

Tilting her head down to follow where I pointed with a forehoof, Addera held up the limbs in question. "They're not forelegs by definition. They're shaped like pony forelegs, but I only use them for holding things."

"So they're…?" I looked up at her hopefully, expecting her to fill in the answer.

"They are. I do not know what to call them, Harry Potter."

I shrugged and arched my back in a stretch. "I guess if you use them to hold things but not stand, they're arms."

"You're probably correct, Harry Potter. I think I'll go down to the girls' showers. Ron got upset with me using yours." Addera finished uncoiling herself and slithered down the stairs.

I made my way to the showers and turned on the hot and cold spray. Using magic to get clean was almost as wizard a thing as using a fire spell to dry off. Besides, I liked how a shower woke me up. A few Locomotion charms on the soap and a scrubbing brush and I got into the motions of getting clean.

The worst parts to clean off were where the tape had stuck to my fur. I'd tried burning it away, but the result of that was just horridly sticky goop that I was resigned to having to clean out again after today's game.

With the water turned off, I prepared myself to get dry. Again I didn't gesture, and again I felt that rush of magic toned down to a much smaller spell thanks to the inefficiency of my casting. Only a little jet of fire, I used it to wash over my body much like I did with the shower head.

Wizarding, I'd realized, was about moderation as much as common sense. At least, surviving being a wizard was all about moderation and common sense. Or was moderation part of common sense? I decided to give up philosophy and just head back to our dorm.

Ron, Dean, and Seamus were all still asleep, but Neville was sitting up and stretching. He looked at me as I entered. "Hi, Harry. Uh, sleep well?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. Quidditch practice was pretty wild last night, combined with everything else. What about you?" I asked.

"Ron was talking in his sleep. He accused basically everyone at Hogwarts of ratnapping. I threw a pillow at him in the end and he punched it in his sleep."

While Neville spoke, I reached my bedside table and grabbed up my glasses case between my forehooves. Opening it up, I cast a quick Locomotion charm and lifted the glasses onto my face. The world was back in focus. With a little bounce of excitement, I turned around to face Neville.

Neville looked awful. The bags under his eyes spoke of a night spent with little sleep. "It didn't work?"

"No. I got up and had a shower, and when I got back he'd finally shut up. That was two hours ago." Neville yawned and shook his head, then reached for a comb. "I w-wanted to see Hermione's class on muggle life, or I'd be going back to bed."

"Neville, you want to learn about being a muggle?" I grabbed up my smaller bag in my teeth and slung it over my shoulder before pausing. "Uh, would you mind continuing this in the common room?"

"Huh? Why?" Neville asked.

Levitating my glasses off I dropped the backpack. "Because I feel like I need to get angry, and it's better to get that out of the way before I start the day."

Heading for the stairs, I didn't hesitate to take them two at a time and clop all the way down to the common room. The fire was already lit and already had an occupant. By now, however, even Ember's presence couldn't hold back my anger. I rushed into the fireplace and let all my anger out.

Gritting my teeth together, I ignored the few gasps of surprise as I let myself get angry. Angry at having to be taped to my broom—Angry at the indignity of having to huddle in a fireplace each morning—I even got angry at King Sombra, by proxy. I flopped onto my belly and felt Ember climb onto my back.

"You've made a new friend, 'Arry." George had been letting his pet soak up the warmth of a morning blaze in the fireplace.

I glared up at George, but try as I might I couldn't get angry at him. Instead, I redoubled my anger at everything in the world that was being annoying and let out an annoyed snort.

On my back, Ember let out a few excited chirrups and seemed to be dancing around on six legs.

"At least someone's happy." Despite my mood, it was hard not to laugh at the happy salamander. "Aren't you meant to be practicing?" I asked George.

George had a huge grin on his face. "Funny thing about that, Oliver was extra tired today, and slept in—that is, he is sleeping in."

"You drugged him?" My little giggle did wonders for pulling my mood back around. "George! It's a game day! What if he slept through the game?"

Ember picked that moment to shuffle forward and hide in my mane. I tried to look back at them, but all that I could see was a head poking out of the burning blue/red hair.

"Nah. He won't sleep that long. About eleven at the most. This isn't the first time I've given our glorious captain some extra rest." George, who was in focus thanks to my situation, turned his head and looked at Neville. "Hey, Neville, come over and get warm."

"You have a tonic to help people sleep?" Neville sat down on the couch beside George. "Could I borrow some?"

George's eyes lit up with mischief. "Neville Longbottom, who're ya planning to dose? Not my little bruv?"

Neville looked shocked, then thoughtful, then shocked again in the space of a few seconds. "M-Myself."

"Does Ron still talk in his sleep then? I swear, we couldn't shut him up some nights. You could get him to talk about all sorts of things if you just got him focused on one thing as he went to bed." George held both hands out toward me. I would have felt upset about it, but I knew how chilly it was.

Opening my mouth, I instinctively blew outward and expelled a blue/red flame.

"Nice, thanks 'Arry," George said.

"He was talking about his rat. It went missing yesterday. Apparently he walked in on Harry in the owlery feeding Hedwig." Neville stretched back on the couch and looked oddly more relaxed than his usual self. Apparently sleep deprivation agreed with him. "I heard all the details, of course, since Ron kept going through it again and again."

I'd almost managed to calm down to normal (particularly thanks to a six-legged shoulder massage Ember was giving me) when Neville reminded me of the fight Ron'd tried to start. The memory of physical violence was enough to cause my flames to leap higher and dance about me.

George looked surprised. "You mean Scabbers? That old rat's still alive? He was old when Percy had him. I imagine he crawled off somewhere and—well, you know how it is with old pets. That's why I like Ember. He—uh, it might be a she—will live as long as the fire that made 'im."

"How long do you think you can keep its fire going?" Neville asked.

"That's a bit of a secret, you see. But I've been assured that it won't go out anytime soon." As he spoke, George leaned back on the couch—probably because my flames had surged higher.

"George Weasley!" The shout came from the stairs leading to the older boys' dorms. "You drugged me again! I'm going to report you to—to Dumbledore!" Oliver Wood stomped into the common room and glared at George.

Turning a big grin in Oliver's direction, George did not look in the least bit worried. "Oh, give it a rest, Oliver. You haven't slept too long, just enough to be a decent hour. Besides, if you reported me I'd be pulled off the quidditch team."

"We've got a chance at this, George. This isn't just another quidditch season, this is the first game on the student council quidditch tournaments. This could be bigger than any single tournament. Gryffindor could win the first game and the first tournament!" Plowing down onto the couch beside Neville, Oliver looked a mix of furious and excited. "I want that for Gryffindor."

"And it's got nothing to do with Helena being one of Gemma's lackeys?" George asked.

Oliver Wood, for the first time ever since I'd first met him, looked shocked. "How'd you—Ugh! Of course you would know. This has nothing to do with her."

"You see," George said turning to look at me, "Helena Fowley likes sporty guys with muscles. She chased poor Lucian Bole around for weeks until he dumped her upside down in a toilet. Not that I condone that—Bole doesn't have a subtle bone in his body—but she's a persistent girl, and she found herself a team captain who is just as persistent and has the aforementioned muscles." He tilted his head toward Oliver. "Right, Oliver?"

"If everyone found out, I'd be off the quidditch team for sure. Please don't tell anyone about this," Oliver said.

"Don't tell anyone about what?" Hermione asked as she descended the stairs from the girls' dorms. She looked well rested and sharp, though she still sported her yellow crystalline body, horn, and pony head. Her clopping hooves were a bit of a give away as to her physical state too.

I looked into Neville and George's eyes, then we all looked at Oliver. "Nothin'!" we all said at the same time. It didn't matter if I was a kirin, if George's family was poor, or that Neville was practically a noble in the wizarding world—we were all guys, and this was a guy thing.

The look Oliver shot each of us said more than words could—he trusted us. "We were just talking about quidditch practice. You know George here came up with a great trick at last night's practice. He and Fred are going to practice it with me today, aren't you George?"

"After breakfast, of course." George stood up and walked closer to the fireplace I was in. "You, uh, ready to turn off your flames, Harry? I'm sure they're ready to start breakfast."

The prospect of food made my belly gurgle in sympathy, and the world turned back into a haze of indistinct shapes. The mass of salamander hiding in my mane didn't shift, however. Standing back up, I shook myself and was still unable to dislodge George's pet. "Coming. I've just gotta get my glasses. Can you—uh—get Ember off my back?"

"Let me get my gloves." George took off for his dorm room, at least I hoped so.

"Why were you in the fireplace, Harry?" Hermione asked. "And why do you have a salamander in your mane?"

"Well, I needed to let off a bit of steam, and the fireplace is a good spot to do it. Ember just liked the warmth, I guess." I shrugged.

Just then, George returned with a pair of thick oven mitts. "Come on, Ember. You can go back to the fire in our room."

To both our surprise, I think, Ember jumped from my back into Georges hands and let out an excited hiss.

Hermione watched George leave the room with Ember and shook her head. "I never would have thought he'd have such an odd pet."

"It's a wizard thing," I said.

"What?" Hermione followed me as I headed for the boy's dorms. "What do you mean by that?"

"Wizard. You know, the absurd stuff that seems perfectly normal when you're casting spells and brewing magic potions all day long? Wizard—thing." I got to the top of the stairs and, though my vision was poor, I wondered if I should say something to Ron—who given how much pasty-white was showing, was standing in the middle of our room in his underwear.

Hermione shouted and her hooves clattering back down the stairs was all the reward I needed.

"Good morning, Ron. Did you sleep well?" I asked.

"Was that Hermione? What was she doin' up here?" Ron asked. "And yeah, I slept really well, though there was this odd dream about being turned into a rat."

Quickly casting a Locomotion charm on my glasses, I put them on and turned to see Ron pulling his socks on. "Huh? Odd. Anyway, I'm heading down to breakfast with Hermione, Neville, and George. You coming?"

"Yeah. I want to do some more searching for Scabbers later, but—" Ron tried to look away before his tears showed, but thanks to my glasses I saw them. "I think he's gone, Harry."

"Ron?" I asked.

"Y-Yeah, Harry?"

"We can hold a wake for him if you want? We can talk about all the awesome stuff he did. Remember when he bit Goyle?"

Ron actually smiled and nodded. I waited while he got dressed and armed. The beater club went inside his robe, while his old, broken wand sat in a pocket on full display. His new wand went inside his robe. "Yeah, I think that'd be good."

We walked down the stairs to the common room together and met up with our friends. The normal ribbing and chatting ensued right up until we opened the painting to leave Gryffindor tower.

"Percy?!" Ron and George both rushed forward at the same time. Percy was laying in a heap on the floor outside the painting. Ron made way for George to leave first, then piled out after him.

"I need to see McGonagall." Percy didn't look so great. He was covered in orange and white fuzz, and had a small horn protruding from his head. He was still wearing his bedclothes, though if he'd worn them last night he must have been outside in them.

George turned to me. "Harry, can you get McGonagall to meet us in the hospital wing?" He was already trying to heave his big brother upright. "We'll meet you there, okay?"

I didn't wait for Addera or Ron, or anyone else to offer to help me. I set my rear hooves into the stonework and galloped. McGonagall would either be at breakfast already or having a meeting with the teachers.

The closest of the two destinations—at this time of day—was the staffroom. I took the stairs four and five at a time, trusting my reflexes and springy limbs to keep me going. In the back of my mind I remembered the portents of something bad happening today, and put it together with Percy's appearance. Had something bad already happened?

My glasses made headlong gallops through Hogwarts both easier and more terrifying at the same time. Half-awake students and shifting staircases blew by me with no further thought than what I needed to avoid them.

The joy of running tried to edge out my urgency, but all I had to do was remember how Percy had looked and I could pull my focus back to the task. Down one more flight of stairs and I was on the ground floor.

Left. Right. Right again. I could see the staffroom ahead, but the two guardians—stone gargoyles—were standing across the doorway. "I need to see Headmistress McGonagall!"

"Staff meeting in progress," one gargoyle said. "No students permitted."

The gargoyles weren't known for being permissive and it wasn't like letting everyone in the staffroom was their job, but I had to hope whoever had made them (probably McGonagall herself) had put in some thought. "There's a hurt student—a prefect, Percy Weasley—and I need to tell the Headmistress that—"

"You need to tell me what, Harry Potter?" McGonagall's presence seemed to push the gargoyles aside.

"We were leaving the tower when we found Percy, ma'am. He looks about half turned into a pony, and he didn't look so good. George and Ron are taking him to Madam Pomfrey, but he wanted to talk to you." As I spoke I got faster so that I was panting by the end of the report.

McGonagall looked at me for a moment and then turned and reentered the staffroom. "Excuse me, everyone, it seems my attention is required urgently. Albus, could you continue?"

I missed whatever Dumbledore said because McGonagall pushed her way past me and back out. "You're going to explain everything on the way to the hospital wing, starting with how you found Mr. Weasley."

On the way to the infirmary I told McGonagall everything I could remember from the moment we stepped out of the painting to me taking off at a gallop for the staffroom. She wrung details out of me with her questions that I wasn't even sure I'd seen.

When we reached the hospital wing, Rest was waiting for us at the desk Pomfrey normally attended. The house-elf looked up at McGonagall and then quickly dipped his head again. "Madam Pomfrey's in the east wing, headmistress!"

McGonagall seemed about to just walk past Rest, but paused. "Thank you," she said to the house-elf.

I looked up at Rest after McGonagall walked away, and he had a huge smile on his face. "Thanks, Rest." I trotted after McGonagall right into the ward where my friends were.

Madam Pomfrey was leaning over the bed with Relaxation at her side. She was murmuring commands to Relaxation and, to my surprise, the house-elf was casting actual spells. They were similar to what McGonagall and Dumbledore had cast on me when I'd first made it out of the Chamber of Secrets, and Relaxation cut off sharply when she realized McGonagall was right behind her.

"Please don't let me get in your way, dear. Do what you have to for young Percy." McGonagall walked around the bed to the other side, scattering George and Ron who looked reluctant to leave Percy's side. "What did you wish to see me about, Percy?"

Without Addera here I had to jump up onto the foot of the bed to see Percy. He didn't look good at all with sunken cheeks and dark bags under his eyes. He looked up at McGonagall and a choking sob left him.

"K-King Sombra! He has Ginny!" Percy slumped back onto the bed and lay still.

I, as well as everyone else (I really loved having glasses again), turned to look at Pomfrey.

"He's unconscious. The poor boy's exhausted, and I can sense the taint of dark magic about him. Unless you need him to settle a matter of life and death, I would have him sleep for a day or two." Pomfrey's look at McGonagall made me realize how much she hoped she wouldn't have to wake him again, and when she lost her detachment and was visibly worried, you knew something was wrong with someone.

"That won't be necessary. He hasn't told us anything we don't already know. He has Ginevra's body, and we know he's going to move soon." McGonagall turned to look directly at Ron. "Ron Weasley, I'd like you present at my next meeting. Please ensure you're free all morning. If Percy wakes, Poppy, please send one of the house-elves to find me."

"Ma'am! He kept muttering something about a Peter. I don't know any peters," Ron said.

McGonagall paused on her way to the door and looked back at us. "We have one student named Peter, but I am sure he isn't involved. Thank you, Ronald."

"Where's Ginny? I mean, Ginny's diary?" At the blank looks my question received I turned for the door and chased after McGonagall at a run.

I'd lost sight of her for only a moment, but not only wasn't McGonagall anywhere to be seen, neither was Relaxation. I didn't stop to find out what had happened and continued galloping to get back to the Gryffindor tower.

My heart had slowed somewhat. Writing down what'd happened to Ginny, though, made it more real in my mind. I sat on my bed staring at the diary and wondering what had caused Percy so much stress that he'd gotten to the point he was at.

A sound at the window caused me to break off my contemplation and look over. A streak of white blew by and I heard the sound again—a snowy owl's bark. Letting out a laugh, I cast a locomotion charm (something I was getting really good at lately) on the window latch and threw the window wide.

The mechanics of an owl having to close her wings before reaching the window while aiming for a target that's little bigger than herself was probably hard enough without her target moving, so I stood still even as she came rushing through the window like a cannonball only to latch one set of her claws onto the scales of my back and another into my mane.

"Hey there, Hedwig," I said. "You want to come to breakfast?"

Hedwig wasn't a stupid owl. She knew exactly where I got her bacon treats from. She gave an excited whistle, but jumped off my back and started walking around me with her awkward-looking gait.

"What's wrong? What're you do—?" An angry bark silenced me mid question. I turned my head to watch her continue her walk around me. I waited for her to finish what was obviously an inspection. "I'm okay, Hedwig. Ron was just upset. Scabbers is missing."

With a noise that was a mix between a horrid retching sound and a disgusted bark, Hedwig jumped onto my back again and dug her talons in for a good grip.

"I told him how wretched that rat was, but I think he finally calmed down. Scabbers was an old rat." As I walked down to the common room, I took note of Hedwig's scoffing bark. "Of course I know he was older than that. Percy had him before Ron, after all."

Hedwig kept silent for the rest of the walk down to the great hall. Weekends were more relaxed for breakfast times than weekdays, but that didn't mean that practically all the school were either in bed asleep or in the hall.

Glasses made all the difference. The four long tables were laid out and bearing a mix of the school uniform colors and each house's. Ron, Fred, and George were missing from the Gryffindor table, but I could see Addera and Hermione sitting beside each other.

The Slytherin table held Gemma (I couldn't help but take notice of her first), Malfoy and his two cronies, and while I watched, Gemma lifted out her wand and whipped it around in the air for a magic gesture. I felt the pull of a pattern wanting magic from where I stood, but she hadn't worked any spell at all. But she'd risked it.

Dragging my gaze from them to Ravenclaw, I saw their quidditch team were all huddled together and talking—probably about the game. Eddie Carmichael spotted me and tipped an imaginary hat in my direction.

Hufflepuff table looked to be having the most fun. I could see a lot of pony ears and several snouts among those laughing and chatting, and one boy seemed to have the most amazing flowing yellow mane of hair that reached halfway down his back.

As I approached Gryffindor table, I could see a few figures at the teachers' table. Hooch was sitting there chatting with Flagessio (I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed her when I first walked in), Dumbledore sat talking with Flitwick, but the rest of the teachers were nowhere to be seen. McGonagall was conspicuously absent, but given events so far I wasn't surprised.

I reached a place opposite Hermione and Addera, and wasn't at all surprised to find that Addera had stretched her coils across under the table to give me my usual support. "Thanks, Addera. Good morning."

"Why is Hedwig on your back, Harry?" Hermione looked like she was done with breakfast and was just chatting with Addera.

I had to think of something wizardy to say. If I was going to be a wizard (and I like to think setting myself on fire each day makes me a wizard if nothing else does), I had to start acting like one. "She'd hardly fit on my head."

Hermione stared at me for a moment in what I could only be thankful was silent shock as her mind worked on what I'd said. I cast a few Locomotion charms and started putting my porridge breakfast together while pulling the mostly empty tray of bacon over—closer to Hedwig.

With an excited whistle and a little nuzzle of my cheek, Hedwig was on the table and savaging the remains of the bacon.

Apparently finished sorting through my wizard logic, Hermione narrowed her eyes at me. "You know that's not what I mean, Harry. Why did you bring Hedwig to breakfast?"

"Isn't she allowed?" Addera asked.

"There's nothing against bringing an owl to breakfast. They have to let owls in, anyway, to make deliveries." I poured a generous dollop of honey over the porridge and started spooning it up.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue back, but the sound of throat clearing at the head table drew all our attention to Dumbledore. He'd stood up and walked to the lectern to address the school. "You'll have to excuse Headmistress McGonagall, she has pressing matters to attend to." I felt like he was looking right at the deWeasleyed Gryffindor table when he said that. "Our gracious hosts—" he turned and gave a little bow to Flagessio, "—have been searching for a particular artifact, and though they hoped to find it quickly and deal with our growing He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Two problem."

I giggled. I couldn't help it. Dumbledore had always told me that being scared of naming Voldemort gave him power, using the same name for King Sombra did the opposite—it made him a joke. So I kept giggling until Hermione shushed me.

"The artifact is a crystal heart about yay big—" Dumbledore held up his hands, "—it shouldn't be hard to spot, unless it is. I believe fifty points would be a good number to whomever finds it."

That got everyone's attention. A low rumble started as all the students present began talking about how best to search the castle. But the thing was, I couldn't focus on any of that. I had a game of quidditch in a few hours, and that meant I needed to be in the right frame of mind to play.

"Where's Ron and his brothers?" Hermione asked.

His brothers. The words practically smashed me in the head. I turned and looked for Oliver, and spotted him further up the table and looked shell-shocked. "They found Percy. Something happened outside the castle I think. Something to do with Sombra. They're probably still with him in the hospital wing."

"Do the teachers know?"

With a mouthful of porridge, all I could do was roll my eyes at Hermione's question.

Hedwig, having mauled most of the bacon, spotted the plate of sausages that was before Addera. Addera hadn't missed the look Hedwig gave her, and the pair looked at each other. Hedwig made a soft whistle, and faster than I could track, Addera flicked a sausage across to her.

Hermione rounded on Addera. "You too? I swear, everyone seems to understand everything that owl says but me!"

"Well—" Addera said.

"Just now. How did you know she wanted the sausage? That whistle could have meant anything. And the other night Harry implied he'd made plans with Hedwig. How can an owl understand plans?"

"She—"

"It just doesn't make sense. Is there some language class I need to take? Do I need to study something? I'll do it, you know. I'll—"

"Hermione Granger, you seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that she's an ordinary owl." Addera was firm enough that Hermione had to give ground (and time to speak) to her. "Just now it was obvious what she wanted. She'd looked at my plate, then looked to me for permission. I gave it."

"Then," Hermione said, "How do you explain the way they understand each other?"

"They've probably formed a familiar bond ritual, Hermione Granger." As if she hadn't just said something profound, Addera picked up a sausage and bit it in half.

I was almost as startled as Hermione looked. "What do you mean? What's a familiar bond ritual?"

Waving the last half of her sausage in the air, Addera shrugged. "I've been learning to be a witch less than either of you. I only know there is such a thing because Salazar Slytherin used it with my mother. She wouldn't have let him get his hooks into me otherwise."

"But if it's a ritual, how did I do it without knowing how to do it?"

Addera just leveled her gaze at me, her shiny glasses showing my own eyes back. She selected another sausage.

"You know what this means, right?" Hermione's annoyed expression had broken into pure sunshine. Her snout curved up at the corners and I almost expected her to start to sing for some reason. "Now I have something to research too!"

"Oh, right. My glasses. I think I worked out how to make the frames, but not why. You see, they're carved wood with some kind of wood to stone charm on it. Made the wood really light but hard like plastic." I took my glasses off to look at them. "I don't know why he used wood, though. Bone or horn would be better, and wouldn't need the hardening."

"That's it!" Jumping to her hooves, Hermione blushed and quickly sat back down. "Exactly what you said, Hardening charm. It turns things to stone."

"We haven't learned that yet," I said.

Hermione's blush gave her away. I glared at her until she caved. "It's a third year Transfiguration class spell. Not hard, to learn that is. But I can guess why he used wood."

A genius Hermione Granger was, but her hobby was making you know about it. "No I really can't."

"To fit the frame around the glass it needed to be bigger than the glass and get smaller. You could either use a shrinking spell, or just soak the wood so it swells." She looked so smug she'd have won a smugness award. "And that's why."

"And the glass?" I asked.

Shaking her head, Hermione proved that she didn't quite know everything—and I bet that fact hurt her. "No idea. Father made toys out of wood all the time—it was his hobby—but he never used glass."

I sighed. At least I knew one of the spells and one of the techniques used to make the glasses now. "Okay. So I'll keep working on these glasses, and you can try to work out whatever this ritual is that I accidentally did. We still have these classes to prepare for."

With my glasses on, I got to see the slight blush rise in Hermione's cheeks, her eyes widen, but what they really let me see was her huge grin. It took longer than it should have for me to work out what had just happened: I'd given Hermione Granger homework.

When she'd first wound up in the horcrux (Ginevra Weasley knew the name and purpose of the artifact she was in), Ginny had been trapped in silence and stillness whenever the cover of the book had been closed.

She'd been going out of her mind in panic before she found the memories. They were passive and weak, but they were better than sitting in the dark and going mad. Ginny reached for the most substantive she could find and was pulled into the perspective of a student at Hogwarts commanding a giant serpent to kill a girl.

Myrtle Warren.

The name was practically etched into every part of the horcrux, Ginny realized. Everything about the death permeated the dark magic construct in a way that disgusted Ginny. But the worst part was watching Myrtle look up at the basilisk's face and just stop.

Ginny pulled herself from the memory and slid back into the comfortable non-space. The silence and lack of interaction was better than that memory.

How would Harry do this? Ginny thought, No, that's the wrong question. Harry would do the most brave thing and break free to find his body still there. How would Hermione do this? The question felt better, and it helped Ginny immediately realize what she had to do.

Filing cabinets. Index cards. A library! Ginny focused to visualize everything she wanted. It was hard at first, and it took repeated focus on each and every object before they became more persistent. Between those efforts, Harry wrote to her.

When the book opened, Ginny could reach out somewhat. She could faintly hear words spoken if she strained to, but what she really felt/saw/experienced was writing. The words in ink that Harry spread upon the pages—her pages—were amazing. She could see little glimpses of what he described, and when he started drawing it was better still.

But when the covers closed, when Harry put her away to return to his own problems, Ginny was stuck in the her diary with all those memories of Tom Marvolo Riddle's life. Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. Ginny shivered sometimes, as she sorted all the memories. She had to poke herself into each one to find out what it was, and several times she jerked back out so violently she wanted nothing else but to shiver in the cold nothingness again.

Shivering in the cold nothingness wasn't possible now. There was too much stuff that Ginny had to focus on. Shelves. Cabinets. A whole treasury of Tom Riddle's life spread out in a recreation of Hogwarts' library. When he'd left Hogwarts, however, the diary ended—and Ginny was very okay with that.

Each of those shivering, horrible memories went into the restricted section of the library. Ginny pushed around a cart of memories and poked into each one by one. This one was a Potions class, third year. This one was Defense Against the Dark Arts, fifth year. Another was a more private lesson as he practiced wandless and wordless magic in his final year.

Each memory had a shelf and a call number, and Ginny slowly got them all filed away. Of course, the dark ones were unsorted. She didn't like even looking at them, but had to keep focusing on the restricted section to ensure they stayed there.

There's nothing else for it, Ginny had decided, I have to go to school.

Days in the real world had no meaning. Ginny attended classes—reliving first year from the first hat-sorting when she got placed in Slytherin. The more she knew about things, the easier the memories went by. She got through several months of classes of first year in the time it took Harry to watch a quidditch practice.

Second year was much slower. A week passed in a day of real time, and Ginny realized this was not going to happen nearly as fast as she'd hoped. Her chances of being a supremely powerful witch by the end of the week were thwarted. That fact alone had her giggling for quite a while.

Then Harry opened her diary.

Ginny! Percy's back, and he said Sombra has you. You're still here? Please—

Sometimes Harry needed to be interrupted, and right now Ginny was prepared to do that.

I'm here, Harry. I'm alright. What happened?

His description of events shocked Ginny into silence. She couldn't form words until she heard how her big brother was safely in the care of Madam Pomfrey.

I'm worried something big is going to happen, Ginny. That he didn't mean it like that.

The memory of when she'd felt Percy open her diary hit Ginny hard and she reeled from it. But Percy was safe and in the castle, that was the most important bit so far as Ginny was concerned. Memories of Tom using her own energy to manifest himself drove her to study harder, even if some of the lessons were not nice.

Author's Notes:

Lord Voldemort: May I inquire about your health, and some insight in your plans?

"My thoughts improve daily, though I can't say the same for magic. Dear Nagini offers me her strength and her form, but it's not enough. I need more—magic and my body. Such a well-spoken muggle. It's a shame you already seem to know far too much about me. Avada Kedavra—"

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What A Sight

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George and Fred didn't look like they were ready to crack jokes at Percy's expense. They sat on the bed beside their brother and seemed to stare through him. Ron sat beside them, but he was looking down at his hands—slowly clenching and unclenching them.

"How is he?" I asked.

I'd already asked Madam Pomfrey, but she'd just told me he was recovering. Percy's brothers, I knew, would have a better idea of their brother's health than that.

"He keeps mumblin' stuff. About Ginny, about Sombra. Only, he keeps calling Sombra his master." Ron's fists clenched so tight his pale skin practically blanched to pure white. "If he's done something to Percy I'll—"

"We'll!" Fred said with vehemence.

"We all will." George turned his head to look at me.

I nodded. What else could I do? Beating up dark wizards was practically my gig now. "Yeah we will."

There was another occupant of the room, sitting on the bed on the opposite side of Percy from the brothers. Penelope held a white handkerchief in her hands and kept dabbing at her eyes with it.

The room might have been warm and brightly lit, but it had an oppressive weight that made it hard to talk. I hated what I had to do, but Oliver had wrung a promise out of me before I'd left from breakfast. "George, Fred, about—"

"We're going to play." George's voice made me feel sorry for any bludger he encountered.

Fred turned his head a fraction and nodded. "Yeah we will. Percy wouldn't want us to lose a game to Ravenclaw just because he'd had a bump on the noggin. Ron'll keep an eye out." He raised his head and looked over the ponish shape of Percy. "And Penny. Won't ya?"

Snorting away her tears as best she could, Penelope nodded her head. Then, as if she realized she needed to speak, she added, "Of course. But I'll cheer for Ravenclaw from up here."

"You ready, George?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, Fred. Feels kinda odd, don't it?"

"Not 'avin' our big bruv to watch us? Yeah it does. Come on, Oliver's probably going spare." Fred stood up, mirrored by George, and both looked down at me. "Lead on, 'Arry."

The walk to the Gryffindor tower to get our gear was somber. I grabbed my broom, my catching glove, and the roll of tape Katie had gifted me when I spoke to Oliver. Fred and George changed into their quidditch gear and we headed down to the pitch.

Oliver, Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were already there and in their gear. I felt practically naked—and for good reason. Oliver nodded to the twins. "You guys okay?"

"Yeah, Oliver. We're here to kick butt." Fred's voice didn't have his usual playfulness behind it, but he sounded more alive than he had with Percy.

George punched his brother in the arm. "What're we doing first?"

That neither brother was their usual selves—they tried to joke but it didn't seem the same—worried me a little. All the more reason to work my mojo and beat up this Sombra so Percy would get better.

Oliver gave a stiff nod to the brothers. "Let's do some running. I heard your lessons were called off, Harry."

We all broke into a run with Oliver. The quidditch pitch was our target, and it looked like we'd be doing laps as a warm up. Despite my smaller size, my legs ate up the distance with a really cool 3-thud run. "Yeah. All the stuff with the scavenger hunt for the Heart. Still, I'll try to get something happening tomorrow."

The others were running in their full quidditch gear, whereas I just had to focus on the two Locomotion charms I had active (the baseball glove and my broom).

Oliver kept the pace up for what seemed like an hour. Not a single one of us was out of shape, we all kept up with him for the whole run. He got us doing ball passes next, and finally had the twins swinging practice bats at practice bludgers to hit small—snitch-sized—targets.

By the time he called a break, all of us were buzzing with energy and ready to play. "Come on, lunch time. Everyone needs to eat light."

Our walk into the castle and to the great hall was triumphant. We already felt like we could win, and it showed. Every Gryffindor student we came across pumped their fist in the air and fell in behind us as we marched to the dinner table.

It wasn't like our times playing against Slytherin, this was much more important. This was the first game of a new tournament and a new tournament style—points wouldn't carry over from one game to the season, so the importance of just winning meant we were all focused on this one game.

We sat apart from the rest of Gryffindor at the tail end of the table. My glasses got a good workout as I glanced up at Ron, Hermione, and Addera—particularly Addera. In such a short length of actual time we'd become so close that having a meal apart from her was a big deal for me.

"Eat up, everyone, this could be a long game. Remember, taking the snitch will be the most important play—we all have to help with that as well as the normal game." For all his words, Oliver made no move to reach for any of the food spread out before us.

He was like this for every game. I had no clue where he got the energy to keep going during play—perhaps it was just his core Oliver Woodness that sustained him. Me? I cast my usual set of Locomotion charms and got in a tug-o-war over a plate of chicken wings with Fred and George while they insisted they would save me from the horrors of a meat diet.

"You know, I had another idea we could use. Probably not for this game, but another one after some practice." Alicia had stopped shoveling baked beans into her mouth to explain her idea. "See, we're only allowed to have two beater bats on the field at once, right?"

A round of mumbles answered her, most of them sounding at least somewhat in agreement. I managed to grab two of the wings and pulled them onto my plate.

Alicia poked her fork in the direction of Fred. "Okay, but the rules don't state that only two players get to use them. What's to stop me tossing the quaffle to Fred, him tossing me his bat?"

"Or just swapping the bats around?" Katie asked.

"'Old up. We're not thinkin' about this far enough. Only chasers can score, right?" George looked around and got nods from everyone except Oliver. "Huh?"

"Seeker can score," Oliver said.

Six pairs of eyes turned to look at me before everyone let loose a laugh.

"I've not had any practice with—I mean, I—" My brain spun in circles trying to come up with reasons why I couldn't score or even participate more in the game. "But you said it was more important in this game to get the snitch."

Oliver reached over and ruffled my mane—which wasn't required to make it look like a mess. "Yeah, Harry, it is. We'll work on your throwing arm another time. What were you getting' at, George?"

"Well, only they can score, but there's nothing that says they can't have our bat and be herding a bludger at the goalie too." George looked proud of his logic and sat back on the bench. "Give Page a bit of something extra to think about."

"Here's a tip," Fred said, addressing the girls of the team. "Aim for Page's nu—"

"Fred!" Oliver cut Fred off sharply, though he had a huge grin and was on the verge of laughing. "You'll do him an injury if you aim there, but he might get back up. Aim to break an arm. He can't guard the goals if he can't use his arms."

"I'll keep this brief." The magically amplified words were enough to hush everyone in the great hall. McGonagall was standing at the lectern and looking out at us all. I could see the hint of coloration at her neck that implied she'd been using more magic than was otherwise apparent, and her fuzzy ears continued to twitch and flick through two neatly cut holes in the sides of her witches hat. "I wish both teams the best of luck this afternoon, and look forward to watching you play. Thank you."

The roar of all the students almost completely drowned out McGonagall's last words. At our end of the hall, however, I was sure I'd still be heard. "So we all need to learn at least one other position."

"What's to know? Get a bat, beat the snot out of them with it." Alicia flashed a daring look at Fred.

George was the one to reply, however. "You know, of the seven hundred or so fouls, about two thirds of them have the word beater in them? 'What's to know?' It's easy being a beater, Alicia, but being one and not giving the other side a pile of penalties is the hard part."

Angelina spoke up. "Yeah, but we don't have to be beaters, we get all the perks and none of the penalties."

"Yeah you do. Some of the fouls are specific about beater bats." Trust Oliver to know the wording of each specific (published) rule. "But this thinking is good."

"What other rules can we bend?" Fred asked.

Oliver shook his head. "Right now? None. I don't want any of you doing this, even if things get really bad, until we've examined the rules and fouls. Let's head out, if you're all done?"

As one, we stood and marched from the hall and down to our locker rooms. The others were all getting changed, but I just stared at my broom.

"You want some help with your tape, Harry?" George asked.

"Harry," Alicia said with a sing-song quality to her voice. "We got you a proper jersey and robe to fit you." She was holding out what looked like cut-down versions of the normal gear roughly sewn to fit over my back and tie around my body.

"There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?" I looked toward Oliver, but he just shrugged at me. Sighing, defeated by what was almost certainly witch logic at work, I let them tape me to my broom again and tie a little jersey to me and a little robe. "I look ridiculous."

"You haven't even looked in the mirror yet," Katie said. "Besides, you still need your helmet and goggles."

"I don't have to wear goggles because of my glasses!"

Angelina pulled something onto my head and tied the straps under my chin. The helmet only stayed on thanks to the mass of my mane shoved under it. I'm not sure if I wanted to see, now, but I had to look.

Walking to the solitary mirror of the locker room, I looked at the little quadruped that looked about what you'd think of if a quidditch team had a mascot. I couldn't help myself—I giggled. Looking about as ridiculous as I had in my life, I couldn't keep back a deep laugh that overwhelmed me.

We spent half an hour getting our heads together for the game. We went over all our established and practiced tactics again and again until Oliver finally stood up. "We've got a game of quidditch to win."

"Grab your glove, 'Arry," George said.

Studying magic aside, there was actually not much that compared to walking onto a quidditch pitch with six of my best friends. We were going to do battle today, and it was always amazing. Quidditch games always seemed far too short when it came to remembering them, but actually playing was a blast that often lasted most of a day.

The stands were full of students, we had a good half the school shouting excitedly at us from all around, with Hufflepuff yellow and Gryffindor red dominating the colors of those on their feet. My glasses let me spot him in the Slytherin stand—Draco Malfoy—but he was talking to Gemma and completely ignoring us. It was odd to think we both got on well with Gemma—but I didn't have time to worry about the politics of a bunch of vipers.

"Let's hear it, everyone, for GRYFFINDOR!" Lee Jordan's voice blasted, and the crowd somehow got louder.

Beside us, somehow immune to the volume of the crowd, Hooch was twitching her wings and wearing a huge grin. "Take to the air. Go on."

We didn't need to be asked twice. The others stepped over their brooms (while I just tried not to look stupid), and we shot into the air as one. Formation flying was a small part of quidditch practice, but it was something we'd all drilled at. We swooped down over the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff crowd and then shot into the air to hover at the end of the pitch where our fans were.

"Another great team, the greatest opponents our heroes have ever fought, RAVENCLAW!"

Whatever else Lee had said—after McGonagall had shook his shoulder—was lost as the Ravenclaws and Slytherins in the crowd showed their support. The Slytherins surprised me, I didn't think they'd cheer quite so loudly for another team.

Zooming around the stadium with some impressive patterns to their maneuver, Ravenclaw's team took up their position at the other end of the pitch.

Hooch spread her wings and pumped them, pulling herself into the sky and flying a little circle while she waited for Oliver and Eliza to approach.

Eliza O'Leary was the only female quidditch captain in the school, and though she'd often shown that she wasn't that great at magic, she'd led a strong Ravenclaw team for her final year. A beater on her team, she'd been seen to make some stunning (literally) plays.

The crowd went quiet. "Alright! I want a—woah—a good, clean game from both of you. Ends were chosen yesterday, so all you have to do is put forward your chasers first." Hooch looked to be having the time of her life, and even though she wasn't half as steady as those of us on brooms, she didn't seem to mind flying in literal circles around the two captains.

The As and Katie flew forward on their brooms, while two boys and a girl from the Ravenclaw team flew up opposite them.

"Your beaters next!"

Fred and George flew forward, leaving me on my own.

When all four beaters were in the center, Hooch called for the seekers and keepers. Seconds later, with the keepers zooming back to their defensive ends, Hooch blew her whistle and released the balls.

"Hey, Harry." A guy brought his broom down beside me. With the snitch still locked up, we had little to do. The only problem was, I didn't know his name. "Intense game today, right?"

Was it a psych out? If it was, he was really good at acting genuine. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, I haven't caught your name."

"Cian Murphy. I just wanted to say good luck." Having met enough Irish students to know at least two other kanes, I knew that it wasn't the right spelling for it.

"Yeah, you too." I leaned back as much as I could and aimed my broom for the sky, then used my lighter weight to shoot upward faster than Cian could have hoped.

High over the pitch, the sound of the crowd was lost to me, but somehow I could still hear the shouts of the players.

Katie was really doing work. She wasn't that big body wise, but she continually put herself between the As and whoever was trying to take the quaffle—she even took a bludger with a glancing blow off her upper arm.

Alicia and Angelina might as well have been two sides of the same coin. Somehow they always knew where the other was and where the quaffle was. They were passing and moving the game forward at every opportunity, and between them accounted for almost every point we got.

George had broken into laughter when he and Eliza had gone for the same bludger and the best they'd managed to do was send it nearly three feet into the ground. He cackled like a maniac but moved like a missile to Fred's side to double-team the remaining bludger.

While it would have been great to just sit up here and watch the game, that wasn't how we'd win. I watched when Hooch released the snitch, and it was instantly out of sight. Scanning around, my heart froze when I saw Cian start moving. It wasn't hard to work out where he was going and—as I pitched forward in a dive—I pointed to the snitch which was just behind and above Hooch. "The snitch!"

I had no hope of getting to it before Cian, but I heard Fred shout something that almost sounded like—I pulled back and stalled my broom as a bludger went flying through the spot my head would have been if I'd kept going. It whistled past Cian too, but he seemed focused on the snitch.

Unfortunately for Cian, the snitch was the target of more than just him. The bludger slammed into the snitch and drove it through the wall at the bottom of the stands, but while the snitch seemed lost to sight, the bludger came zooming for the nearest target.

Eliza barely reached Cian before the excited bludger could make contact, and beat it away with her club. There was something amazing about her—the way she flew—that had nothing to do with the broom she was riding. Eliza was fast. Faster on her old Barn Shaker 200 than my Nimbus could be even with my reduced self taped to it.

"That's a foul!" The voice that shouted was Eliza's, not Hooch's. "Come on, ref, you can't interfere with a snitch!"

Hooch glided down to Eliza and circled around her. "That wasn't a Snitchnip, Miss O'Leary. No one touched the snitch!"

I could see fury in Eliza's eyes. She looked up at George with something approaching deadly malice. I missed what she mumbled, but she pulled out her bat and zoomed up into the sky.

Shaking my head, I launched upward too and cast my eyes around for a sign of the snitch. I saw Cian, and if I didn't know better he looked scared. Honestly, given the weight and malice in a bludger, I couldn't blame him.

The bludger that had been driven into the pitch finally dug itself loose, and it looked angry. The thing almost seemed to want revenge on George and Eliza, because it took off in their direction. Not for the first time I wondered how effective a remote control bludger—like what Dobby had used on me—would be when battling another wizard. All you'd have to do is program it not to want any part of you, and it would be a hilarious distraction for a wizard lacking a bat.

The rest of the game had devolved into a constant chess game. Both sides were getting the ball regularly, but each time either tried to get a goal someone would yell snitch and everyone would look around.

It was 30-50 our way, and the game seemed to be one of those low-scoring ones that would—in any normal season—be terrible for both sides. There seemed to be a thudding in my heart, and the world slowed down. Cian was looking up at me, and I was looking down at the snitch hovering just above his head.

Curling my glove into an impromptu fist, I turned my Nimbus into a dive and willed it faster and faster. Cian was frozen staring at me, almost as if he expected me to actually punch him with the glove. At the last second I snapped the glove open, but the snitch realized it'd been spotted and took off.

I blew by Cian and was in close pursuit of the golden ball. To my shock, the angry bludger came speeding my way but curled back around to chase back at Eliza and George.

Ten feet.

Five feet.

One foot.

I would have jumped forward to grab the snitch, but being taped to my broom made that impossible. Instead, I had to rely on speed and my skill with the Locomotion charm—something I'd been getting a lot of practice with.

Focusing my mind to close the glove, I felt the give of it—the snitch held within.

"GRYFFINDOR WI—" The shout from the magical PA—Lee Jordan's voice coming back into full focus—was cut off as a red beam of magic lanced through the air and sliced one of the towers clean off the stands.

I knew that magic. I'd been burned by that magic.

It wasn't easy to control somebody implicitly, let alone a thousand ponies. Ginevra Molly Weasley was learning on the job, so to speak. First and foremost she had completely ground down Peter Pettigrew's free will to the point he had none. Just existing in the same head as the man made her feel dirty by association.

'I can do this.'

The army of King Sombra took a step together. It wasn't completely synchronized, but then that was something she could work on. They took another step, and a thousand hooves crashing into the ground at almost exactly the same time was quite the effect.

'I can do this!'

This was the easy part. Ginny's head was filled with plans and counter plans. She had more ponies under her command than there were students and teachers at Hogwarts, and she wanted to ensure the count of both didn't decline.

That's why Sombra had told her to do this, she knew, he wanted enough time to be bought so that he could find the Heart, and Ginny didn't want anyone to get hurt during what was to come. So she marched her army forward—headed to Hogwarts.

It hadn't been a full week, and already using a human body felt wrong to Ginny, but she wasn't prepared to undermine the last of Peter's humanity—as much of a shell and a farce as that had been to the man—at such a crucial stage.

Marching ever closer, one sound was somehow louder than the stomping hooves of her army. They're playing quidditch! The realization changed everything. Ginny tossed out her plans to fight the school in an open field and instead sought to corral all the students and teachers within the quidditch stadium.

'This'll be perfect. I'll just keep them from leaving the stadium by surrounding it!'

Ginny watched the game play out in the sky above the quidditch pitch, and hoped the players were all too caught up in the game to notice the army surrounding them.

Ready to start the attack, Ginny froze when she heard Harry's name shouted as the commentator called that he almost had the snitch. A shiver ran through her—figuratively of course—as she heard that Harry was inches from grabbing the snitch, and when Ginny heard he'd caught it, she smiled.

'Attack.'

She didn't shout the word into the heads of the ponies. The thought was more a mental decision that this is where the stand starts.

'I'm starting,' Ginny projected toward Sombra.

'Good. Trust your instincts and do what you must. I know where the Crystal Heart is.' Sombra's mental tone was warm and charged with potential—he knew it was his student's time to shine.

Ginny felt a little thrill of excitement as one of the helmeted ponies used their magic—at her command—to slice through one of the towers of the quidditch stands. Sombra would win, of that she had no doubt, but if she could keep the stadium trapped, she'd be able to keep everyone safe.

The magic the helmets could deploy was limited in its nature. It was always destructive, but Ginny had worked out a way to make a shield with it. One pony could make a shield big enough to hold one pony.

'Again. All the towers!'

Her will reached out to the helmeted ponies and, one after another, the spires of the quidditch stands fell—cut at their base and on an angle so they would fall away from the stadium. When the last of the towers fell, Ginny directed the final spell herself.

Pulling magic from all the ponies gathered around her, Ginny siphoned it and rebuilt it into an inward-facing shield and cast her spell. Shield spells were a common enough pattern that the power flowed easily, but at the scale she made it the burning-red magic slowly stretched over the stadium and pitch.

While a few wizards and witches on brooms made it out from under the dome before it sealed, Ginny wasn't too worried. She had thousands, and even if a few escaped—a few escaped. She could catch them later.

Biting her lip—or at least making Peter bite his—Ginny almost faltered. She looked down at the hands of the grimy old wizard and remembered his memories. This was the right thing to do. A crash behind her broke Ginny from the moment of reverie.

A blue pegasus, unhelmeted and free, stood behind Ginny. "Look, we might not be super well-known up here, but you should probably know we're going to kick your butt unless you stop."

'Who are—' Ginny had to pull her mind back from just thinking the words and marionette Peter to ask, "Who are you?" There were six of them all together. Two pegasi, two unicorns, and a pair of the lesser ponies, at least by Ginny's estimation.

"Princess Celestia sent us. My name's Twilight Sparkle, and these are my friends Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy. Please, stop all this so we can talk." Delighted that someone would actually talk before needing to resort to rainbows, Twilight spoke with a passion that conveyed her desire for a bloodless settlement. "You don't have to do this."

"You don't understand!" Ginny felt the spells of witches and wizards testing her barrier from within, but she'd expected that. Looking at the six ponies, she managed a smile that she hoped Peter's face wasn't twisting into some horrid expression. "I'm doing this to protect them from King Sombra. It's safer like this."

The words coming from the older human before her confused Applejack somewhat, they didn't sound right. "Twi, I don't think somepony's playing us straight here."

"She speaks funny," Pinkie Pie said.

Twilight nodded to her friends then turned back to Ginny—who was still wearing Peter like a puppet. "We're going to stop Sombra. Will you get—"

"No!" Ginny began pulling more magic from the ponies and weaving it into more shields. One. Two. Both the pegasi were trapped. Three. One unicorn didn't even put up a struggle. When she tried to trap the second unicorn, they disappeared. "I'm doing this for your own good! He told me I can save everyone!"

Applejack was having none of what the crazy human was saying. Shoving herself into action before another of the red domes could come around her, she stopped at the one holding Rainbow Dash, turned, and coiled her muscles.

Pony magic was more than just unicorns and fancy spells. In Equestria, all creatures lived and breathed magic. Applejack had spent her life so far refining how her body channeled magic to a physical perfection few could match. As her muscles squeezed down and compacted, she was pouring magic through her body in a hurricane toward her rear hooves—though she had no conscious knowledge it was magic.

Ginny snarled as one of her shield spells shattered into dust under an onslaught she'd scarcely expected. She'd discounted the regular ponies as not worth her time, but now she could see they might be even more dangerous than the pegasi. "Just let me help you."

"Hi!" Pinkie Pie was right beside Peter, looking up at the man standing before her. "Look, I know you think this is helping, but the only thing that really helps in this kinda mess is working together."

When another of the barrier spells shattered, Ginny felt the onset of a migraine creeping up on her. She spun around to deal with the pink pony first, only for Pinkie to slip out of sight. When she spun back to instead deal with the pony releasing the others, she was just in time to see their rear hooves lash out and shatter the barrier around the yellow pegasus.

With the third of her spells shattered, Ginny's mind was dealing with a another jolt of backlash, and this one threw her focus enough that the big shield holding all the wizards and witches contained failed. Lifting Peter's hand to his head—her head—Ginny felt something move around her legs, shoving them, and causing her to fall forward.

"G'night, sugarcube." Applejack had delivered such a blow to several annoying creatures to make them take a nap, and she had a knack for judging just the right amount of buck to do the job. Since Rainbow Dash had done the work of bringing Ginny's head down to her level, Applejack delivered the perfect buck.

'Those aren't just witches and wizards!' Ginny's mind was ringing, but she was safe and sound back in Sombra's head. 'I tried, but they were—'

King Sombra worked his way through the tunnels. Something was blocking his apparation magic now, so he was forced to take things slowly. 'Shhh, Ginevra, I expected this. Reach out through me and regain control of your army. Prove to me your friends are worth saving.'

Ginny focused herself—easier now she didn't have to puppet a body, and did as instructed. She pushed herself out and through Sombra and felt a cloak of his power bathe her form. She felt solid and sure of herself again, and reached back to grab up the helmeted ponies again.

'This isn't over. I can still save you!'

Author's Notes:

Ginny: In all the memories you have of Voldemort, is there any exorcism spell?

I've only barely gotten into second year. I don't like accessing his memories of things he learned outside of class—those weren't very nice memories.

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Eliza, George, and Katie had made it out of the stadium with me before the barrier had come down. I sat up as high as I could on my broom and looked around at what had happened. The helmeted ponies had come out of nowhere and the barrier had gone up almost as quickly as they had attacked.

"What're we meant to do, Harry?" George drew his broom up beside mine. "McGonagall told us all about what those things are capable of—we can't go down there."

"This is a distraction." Eliza got her broom up beside mine—flanking me with George. "If they'd wanted to attack properly, they would have dropped the stadium supports or just kept blasting."

"Who sends an army as a distraction?!" Katie swung up out of nowhere on George's other side. We were flying in a formation in a tight loop around the top of the castle.

It hit me so quickly I barely had time to catch the meaning of the thought. "Sombra! I haven't seen him!" I looked around at the others, and they all shook their heads. "So if he's not here, he's either in the castle or—"

"He'll be looking for the heart thing. If it can be used as a weapon against him, then it stands to reason it could be not used as a weapon against him if he controls it. What if that's the only way to defeat him?" Eliza asked.

We got nearly halfway around the castle while that fact sunk into our heads. At last Katie asked, "So where is it?"

"The heart? Who knows?" George gestured to the castle below us. "It could be anywhere in there!"

Eliza gestured toward George with her own bat, the weapon still firmly clutched in her hand. "If this is some incredibly powerful weapon or shield or whatever, and it was in the castle, someone would have found it by now. So either someone has found it or it's not in the—"

Excitement bubbled up inside me. "The Chamber of Secrets! It must be there!" Pushing my broom, I aimed it for the cairn of rocks that had partially fallen down to reveal the top of the cave-in me and Ron had barely survived.

"You're bloody crazy, 'Arry Potter!" George whooped in excitement as he reached my side. "Where are we crashing?"

Katie joined in the shout and settled in on my flank this time. "You don't shake off a Gryffindor chaser that easy!"

On George's other side, Eliza didn't say anything as she drew up to us, but she did curse when I aimed further down and and then braked hard to land on a rockface overlooking the lake. "What are you trying to do?!"

"That's the outside entrance to the Chamber," I said while pointing a hoof at where a sinkhole had opened up in the rocks. "We need to—Can you get my broom off me?"

George was quicker than the girls and pulled out a knife from his robes. Flicking the blade out, he glared at Eliza as if to dare her to call him on taking such an item into a game of quidditch. A few quick cuts of the tape and I was free from my broom. "There ya go, Harry. Now you can get the rest off yourself easy enough."

A true wizard would have immolated right there and then, but my common sense told me to avoid making myself a target. "It kinda makes me stand out when I'm on fire, and it's not advisable to touch me when I am either, so I'll put up with it for now. Let's head in."

"Wait." Eliza looked around at us all. "We might have to cast magic in there to defend each other." Drawing her wand out of her robes, she let out a sigh. "You all know what that means?"

"Yeah, yeah. But don't forget we got two wands." George held up his beater bat. "My little bruv reminded me that there's more to bein' a wizard than just magic."

It was a shame Ron wasn't here to hear that, because I was sure George wouldn't admit it to him after this. "If you want to wait out here, I understand. None of you have changed—"

Katie cleared her throat and pulled her robe aside to reveal a yellow tail.

"If you think I'm going to show you what I got, you've got another thing coming." George waggled his eyes at the two girls. "'Sides, with all this goin' on, I figure we're all going to be neigh-sayers soon." He drew his wand out, but there was two balls clutched in his fist as well—everyone present knew the shape and color of the smallest of Dr Filibuster's Fireworks.

"Do you really bring all that to your quidditch matches?" Eliza asked with a growing smile on her face.

"Let's focus on this, eh?" Katie stepped up behind me with her wand drawn. "Lead on, Harry, I've got your back."

Katie's words were both inspiring and terrifying. She had my back, which meant I was the defacto leader—again—and could rely on her to be with me every step of the way. Being with me, consequently, was usually the least safe place to be. "Thanks."

The gaps in the rock weren't hard for me to get past, though I think George had it worse since he was the largest of the four of us.

I slid down the last ten feet of wall to land in the huge chamber where Addera's castoff skin had scared us. Jumping out of the way using the power of common sense, I wasn't at the bottom of the slide when Katie came down it.

Unfortunately, Katie wasn't so quick getting out of the way of Eliza, and with both in a tangle of arms and legs, George collided with them and all three rolled away from the wall.

Nostalgia filled me at returning to the Chamber of Secrets. While I waited for the others to get themselves sorted out, I examined Addera's skin. It still smelled of her, and as I ran one hoof over it carefully I could feel the heavy scales that were her armor—and now mine.

"That's the basilisk skin?" Eliza asked.

George whistled—impressed. "She's a bit smaller now, eh? Fine friend though, right Harry?"

Katie looked at George. "What'd you mean by that? Dumbledore said Harry and Addera defeated the basilis—Oh."

"What do you mean?" Eliza asked.

We all stared at her. "Eliza, Addera was the basilisk. Salazar Slytherin used nasty magic to control her and make her stay down here for a thousand years," I said.

"Oh. But why wouldn't you just tell everyone that?" Eliza brushed down her robe and readied her wand again.

I started to walk toward the chamber itself, leading the way and casting a light spell with my horn. Despite not wanting to be a beacon for Sombra to aim at, I also didn't want any of us to trip over any of the rocks that'd fallen from the cave-in. "Because we were worried what everyone would do, what with them thinking she was trying to kill them."

"Wasn't she trying to kill everyone?" Eliza asked. "Wait. That's stupid. Why didn't I see this? How many coincidences could have resulted in her not quite looking so many in the eyes. The probability of it is staggering."

"How'd you figure it out?" I asked George before I turned the last corner and found the door to the Chamber of Secrets closed.

Could Sombra speak parseltongue? Was there another way to get in? Was he waiting somewhere for me to open the door so he could get in?

The last option was the worrying one. I was sick and tired of causing problems just by blundering my way into what I thought at the time was the right solution. "Wait, what if Sombra hasn't gotten in yet, and is waiting for us to open the door?"

"Well, if he didn't have a plan to get the door open that didn't include you, he would have made sure you were here, right?" George walked out into the open and right up to the door. "So I figure that since we only barely made it out, he didn't plan that."

I stopped at the door and thought about George's statement. "Yeah, you're right. Still doesn't tell me how you figured who Addera was." Clearing my throat, I looked at the door. —Open up you stupid piece of enchantment!—

The door began to rumble, the snake pattern of it shifting as it clanked and unlocked.

"It was mostly little things. You might not notice, but when Addera kept saying things about Slytherin, it was the nail in the coffin—so to speak. So what was it, she was fightin' whatever mind-bender ol' Slytherin put on her and made sure to only look at people so as not to kill 'em?" George asked. "Turn your light off, Harry, better you not be an easy target."

I banished my light just as the door started to open. It felt like a year ago that I'd first opened the door of the Chamber of Secrets, but it had only been a week.

The change within the chamber was almost as dramatic as the change it had made to me. The crystals no longer sat off to the sides, but were huge curtains of bright colors that were driving upward—into the ceiling. Color and light was everywhere except for where King Sombra stood.

He didn't look like the pony body he'd stolen from Ginny—he looked like the figure I'd seen in her mind. He stood over twice my height, had a gray coat that almost looked to be moving like smoke, and a huge mass of black mane that looked more fit on a lion than a pony. When he smiled, a pair of fangs showed. "You again? We keep meeting, Harry Potter, and I wonder if it's fate?"

Thoughts started to make sense, and I realized what must have happened. He got in, but couldn't get out. "Close the door!" I jumped out of the doorway, expecting George to swing the door closed, but rather than close it he was holding it open with all his strength against Katie and Eliza's efforts to pull it closed.

A bright green had subsumed George's eyes, and there was the slightest swirling pattern in them. It didn't take a brain like Dumbledore's to figure out Sombra was controlling him somehow.

Time to be a wizard, Harry.

"Close the door once I get in!" I said.

"What? Harry?! NO!" Katie was fighting to get the door closed still, and couldn't spare the moment she needed to stop me from jumping into the room.

My legs absorbed the twenty foot drop to the bottom of the ladder with ease. Being a pony had its upsides. "Close the door now!" Yup. This was the most wizard thing I'd done all day—possibly all year. Big evil bad guy, and I gotta lead the charge, but before I can win the day in true wizard style, I had to stop him doing whatever he was doing to George.

"Such bravery is on par with that of ponies, but I remember you now. The creature that helped me defeat that slimy little beast." King Sombra smiled in a way that showed off a lot of his fangs, and his tone was as deep and resonant as it had been in Ginny's mind. "Which is why I offer you a chance to join me freely."

What would a wizard say? Something awesome, like in one of the action movies Dudley liked watching. "No." My brain caught up with what I'd said. Well, better luck next time. "Never!"

"Then you will join me in chains." As soon as he spoke, I felt something bright and sticky pour into my head. It was worse than treacle, and stuck all my thoughts together into a ball and made room—made room for my king.

"Sod this!" Katie's voice seemed a million miles away, and I didn't hear what incantation she used, but blasts of fire sang through the air over my head and into Sombra. The first hit him and blew away the illusion of his grand self, but the rest all impacted a huge shard of crystal that he summoned to block them.

The last one hit me.

I spun in place, anger rising that she'd obviously aimed one of her blasts my way, and I felt the thick purple honey in my head burn away. My glasses melted before my eyes, but I could see perfectly Katie's berserk grin. She had aimed it on purpose, and now she had a bright purple mane of hair.

Turning back, I had a moment to lament for my delicate glasses before I turned all my anger and attention on Sombra. He looked little more than the weak foal that Ginny had been when he'd teleported out in her body.

"Oh? Managed to break my spell did you? I'll take apart your mind later to discover how you did that." Sombra took a few steps back, while I advanced. "Nothing to say?"

Tipping my head forward, I sent a finger-thin beam of light out of my horn directly at Sombra. Part of me was screaming that I shouldn't damage Ginny's body, but seeing how easily he was taking over people's minds, I didn't want to give him a break.

The purple-red beam of light went right through Sombra, leaving the rest of his form to dissolve into smoke.

I'd done it? It was that easy? The fire in my head was still burning hot, even as something shoved into my side and seemed like it wanted to drill through me.

Turning to look, I saw a fast-growing length of black crystal—sharpened to a point—shoving me across the Chamber toward the far wall. It was obvious he meant to impale me on it, but I trusted my scales to stop the bulk of the damage while I looked to find where Sombra was.

The crack of the crystal slamming me into the wall, and my scales resisting its efforts at piercing them, did nothing to reassure me from the pain that flared in my side. Broken ribs, or had it actually gone into me? I didn't have time to check.

Stepping out of the gap the crystal had made hurt, but pain just made me more angry, and that's when I noticed the wisps of smoke coming from one of the side passages. Like an eagle's, my eyes locked on the trail and I barely growled out the incantation for a fire spell—one that I put every bit of focus and pattern behind.

A smile creased my lips as more heat than I'd ever felt before in my life shot out of my horn and for the hallway I suspected Sombra of being in. A wall of crystal shot up to block my flame, and instantly shattered under the heat of my spell. I poured more magic into it, wanting to see the flames pour out of every crack in the wall on that side of the Chamber.

While I poured magic and anger into making a barbecue king, I kept waiting for the clang of the door closing behind me, but it never came. Laying off the flames for a second, I turned to look back at my friends, only to see all three now with the bright-eyed stare, and all three aiming wands at me.

I could barely remember the spell that Hermione had taught Addera to open and close doors, but I didn't care. I muttered what I hoped was something close enough and threw my anger at closing the door before Katie, George, and Eliza could make it through.

Finally hearing the clanging I'd hoped for earlier, I turned back to see two shafts of crystal coming right for me. Remembering that they couldn't pierce my skin, but they could still hurt me, I dodged the first, pronked over the second, and felt something hard and blunt thump into my back-left leg at a bad angle.

My leg was broken—it wasn't hard to tell, I'd had limbs broken before and fixed almost as quickly—but I had spares. What the strike served to do was make me even more angry, and I didn't fight that anger.

I didn't actually know a lot of fire spells—I knew the basic Fire-Making charm, I knew about the cloak-igniting one that Hermione had been so proud of casting, Bluebelle flames, as well as the raw fire I could conjure, but I found myself wishing I knew whatever the spell Snape talked about (I think it was fiendfire). In the moment, and with my anger boiling white-hot around me, I reached for the fire spell that I had no name for.

It couldn't have been easier. Time seemed to slow down and I watched three new shafts of crystal coming toward me, and could guess there were more coming from other angles. It didn't matter, the solution had become clear to my focused mind.

I was non-flammable, Sombra was not.

Pronking, I felt the flames pour over me and wash through my mane, tail, and fur. The tape that had left some sticky masses in my fur was burned away completely, and the flames danced outward.

When the fire connected with the crystal spikes that were coming at me, the crystal seemed to vibrate and then crack. Before the points could make contact with me they exploded into tiny shards of crystal that bounced harmlessly off my scales.

Sending my flames out, I found tunnels and pipes too small for Sombra to fit through. "Where are you?! Can't apparate with the door closed?!" The thought giggled around in my head and fueled my desire to find him. "I don't burn, King Sombra, what about you?!"

A blast of magic hit me from behind, sent me tumbling head over heels to the far end of the Chamber from the door. I laughed and raged the whole time, using my awkward impact against the far wall to maintain my fury.

"Little colt, I was breaking wild unicorn sorcerers before your ancestors were even born!" Sombra was walking toward me with his illusion of his full self in place. Each step he took, another flash of black-green magic flared and rushed toward me.

I dodged, jumping aside each time to avoid what I suspected was the same magic that had flung me from one end of the room to the other, but each step he took closer to me made it harder because the shorter distance ruined my reaction time more. When one whistled past my ear close enough to feel its heat, I turned toward his next and instinctively opened my mouth.

Dark magic—like what I'd burned out of Snape—should have hit my shoulder, but as it neared and I inhaled, it arced toward my maw.

A surge of power crackled through my body. There was so much magic in the spell he'd sent my way that I felt revitalized. My wounds seemed healed completely, and I was both angry and happy. "More! Another!"

"Open the door, boy, and I'll let you live."

His eyes burned with green-black fire that I knew—well, hoped—was fake. Nothing could have that much magic in it. I barked a laugh at him. "There's only two creatures here that can speak parseltongue: me and—"

My words were cut off by the sound I feared. The door at the other end of the hall opened.

Laughing, Sombra lifted one hoof and, as he brought it back down, disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

"NO!" I looked up at Addera, and for a moment I wanted to burn her. "Why'd you do that?! He was trapped!"

—No, Harry Potter, you were trapped.— She slithered into the chamber and let herself down the ladder easily. —From the moment you locked the door you put yourself in the greatest danger, and it was a matter of time until he expended your energy. Then, like all such manipulators, he would have taken over you.—

She didn't have her glasses on and I could see Addera's beautiful eyes. They had no power over me, but I wanted them to. Stepping closer, I stomped my hooves. "But I almost—"

Addera was much faster than I was. If she'd been in the chamber with Sombra, he wouldn't have stood a chance. As it was, I had less. She surged forward and scooped me up in her arms before I could so much as try to finish my sentence, and she hugged my burning body to her chest. —Calm down, Harry Potter, he's gone for now.—

I squirmed, struggled, and even tried to make my fire ignite Addera, but it was no good. Then it hit me—my fire didn't burn living things. Like a candle wick pinched between two fingers, my flames died out and I started to shiver. I couldn't hurt him no matter how hot I burned him. Had I actually caught him? Was that why he had been so bold at the end?

—You are brave beyond all reason, Harry Potter.— Addera squeezed me tighter still, only stopping when I gasped. —You are hurt.—

"A few ribs. Maybe a back-leg. I thought I was supposed to be indestructible?" Each time I moved in her grip, I felt a new thing that hurt.

—You're not indestructible, Harry Potter, I just wish you were.—

Addera hadn't been this furious or scared before. The former emotion had been a companion for nearly her whole life, but the latter was something new—particularly since it was aimed at a young boy. She lashed her tail and slithered along the edge of the barrier and hissed angrily like she were still just the monster Harry had rescued her from being.

When the red wall shimmered, filled with holes, and failed she raced past the burned grass that marked its former location. The teachers and students of Hogwarts were there—together—to battle the invading (helmetted) ponies, but Harry only had her.

Having watched the four brooms zoom out from under the barrier before it full coalesced, Addera knew their direction and likely destination. Dodging beams and blasts of red light, Addera drew her wand out of her backpack and replied in kind.

"Make a hole for her! She's going to protect Harry!" Albus Dumbledore's voice rang out over the crowd of students around him—students who had already cast more spells in the last several seconds than during the previous week.

Paying for spells with his humanity, Albus wordlessly sent two sheets of fire to chase after and flank Addera. The fire obscured the lamia's movement to Albus' delight, and it let him turn his attention back to the events unfolding closer.

Around her, Gemma Farley had a mix of Slytherin and Hufflepuff students and Albus Dumbledore. A beam of red light came toward them, and it was only Gemma's reflexes, practiced by dueling, that had her bring a shield up in time to block it. "Slytherin! Hufflepuff! Hogwarts! To arms! Protect Dumbledore!"

Smiling at the chant, and trying to ignore the mane of silver-gray hair that seemed to tumble down one side of his head, Albus focused on offense while his students took up shielding and point-defense. Precise blasting spells seemed the best, he discovered after a few such spells, for either knocking the helmets off the ponies' heads or simply knocking them out.

Sparing only a glance back at the castle, Albus wished he had access to the warding stone, but after Princess Cadance's entry into the grounds of Hogwarts, it had developed a rather nasty crack and his efforts to erect further defenses with it had proven useless (and had cost him a rather fetching orange sheen to his arms).

With no further concentration to spare on might-have-beens and wishes, Albus turned his focus to a group of helmeted ponies that had blasted a group of unprotected students into unconsciousness—at least he hoped it was unconsciousness.

Sparing a moment from working with the teachers and students, Keen Eyes aimed his horn directly upward and unleashed a fountain of green that shot into the sky. "Come on, lieutenant, you get to be heroes and you're missing your bat—" His thought cut short when a red beam collided with his shoulder, and Keen felt consciousness fading, and not even a stinging pain in his side could keep his eyes open.

Having dealt with the helmeted ponies guarding the strange human, Twilight Sparkle and her friends had just finished tying them all up when they saw the green flare. "What in Equestria is that?" Twilight asked.

"That," Rainbow Dash said, "Is an E.U.P. Guard distress signal. More specifically, that somepony's been ambushed."

Rarity disliked being thought of as useless, but so far she hadn't been terribly effective at all. She looked at Rainbow with admiration, however. "Wherever did you pick up such information?"

Rainbow Dash wasn't sure at first whether to reveal the one thing she really geeked out over, but like all single-topic-geeks, she couldn't hold herself back. "Well, I kinda did a little research about the Wonderbolts. They're part of the E.U.P. Guard, and while they're part of it, they also—"

"Rainbow!" Twilight rolled her eyes. "If it's a pony asking for help, we have to help!"

Snapping her right wing forward and to her brow, Rainbow sketched the best salute her research had uncovered. "Then come on! We gotta go be the heroes!"

While her friends charged off, Pinkie Pie pulled a cupcake out of her mane and set it down beside Peter Pettigrew. "I think you've probably had a worse day than I have. I hope it gets a little better for you." She booped the ugly man on his nose, giggled, and started pronking off after her friends.

For the second time in his life, Peter felt surprise at the kindness of another. Only his old friend, Remus Moony Lupin, had shown him such unfettered warmth and understanding. "Fool." Peter tried to move, but in doing so revealed how tight his bonds were. "Doubly fools!"

Focusing on his ratty form, Peter embraced the sensations and mental aspect of being a rat, then pulled the sensations over him like a cloak. It would have worked perfectly had he not been part pony already.

The rush of magic that should have turned Peter into a rat, instead twisted his legs and arms into pony legs. "No. No! Not pony, rat!" Again he tried, and again the magic rushed through him. Peter crowed in glee as he felt his body start to shrink, and his spine shift, but when it stopped he was a pony—100% pony.

Letting loose a blast of the most foul language that could ever be uttered, Peter Pettigrew squirmed and wiggled, and despite becoming the wrong creature, he realized he was still smaller than his human self. Cursing turned to giggling as—in the form of a pony—Peter slipped from the ropes.

Managing four legs was simple, dealing with the thing still wrapped around his neck was less so. Peter felt it give a pulse, and she was back. Thinking became harder, and Peter shrank inside his own mind as Ginevra Molly Weasley became the focus of his very existence. "I-I got free, Mistress!"

'Come, we still have a task to complete and I can't afford to focus half my attention on you.'

Shivering, Peter Pettigrew felt the slightest wiggle room in his mind so that he could think. The thoughts were all bent toward what Ginevra Molly Weasley commanded, but it was a start.

Shaking his dirty rags free of his green-furred body, Peter looked in the direction the six powerful ponies had headed. Normally, as a survivor par excellence, Peter would be traveling in the opposite direction, but Ginevra Molly Weasley had given him a command, and that command became the sole focus of his existence.

Addera advanced through the chamber she'd been locked in for a thousand years. She didn't so much as blink when she slithered past one of her old shriveled up skins, or the bones of little creatures she'd fed off. —Sausages are much better.—

Continuing down the passage, Addera hissed when she rounded a bend and found George Weasley, Katie Bell, and Eliza O'Leary blasting away at the door leading to the Chamber of Secrets. Each spell they cast stole more of their humanity. "Stop!"

As she slithered forward, Addera didn't notice any of the students stop their efforts. George cast another spell, but dropped his wand when his arms turned into legs—complete with hooves. When she came alongside them, and looked in their eyes, Addera got more angry. Each of the three had slightly glowing, swirling eyes.

George, now that he'd cast the last spell that finished off his change, resembled an orange-furred crystalline earth pony, and beside him sat Katie—trying to hold her wand between two white hooves while a yellow mane spilled over one side of her face.

Eliza stood apart from her two quidditch opponents. She resembled a human almost completely, except for shimmering blue crystal where her hands reached out of her robes, and a head that looked like it belonged on a pony. Her hair was still the same platinum blonde as before, though a matching tail could be seen under her robes now that it was long enough.

What really stood out, literally, was two shapes under Eliza's robes. Where her shoulders and upper back should have been a relatively straight line down to her rear, Eliza had two large wings straining under her robes.

Knowing that speaking parseltongue around the door would cause it to open, Addera instead reached up with a hoof and took her glasses off.

"Look at me," Addera said as she shifted to put herself before Eliza.

Eliza O'Leary had been following the command of her master, King Sombra, when a pair of eyes hovered into her view. Sitting back on her rump, she found the slit-pupil eyes more and more pretty by the second, and slowly forgot about what she was even trying to do.

"You are completely under my control," Addera said. "And you will act as you normally do until I give you another command. Do you understand?"

Every part of Eliza breathed a happy sigh at having been given a command. She nodded eagerly, then looked down at herself. "I'm almost a pony."

"Yes you are. Casting too many spells tends to do that. Stand back from your friends and look the other way until I tell you to look back." Addera knew what she was doing was—by the absolute rules—wrong, but she couldn't spare the time to use her talent to break her friends out of Sombra's grip completely. Turning to Katie and George together, Addera caught their eyes and their minds in her trap, and repeated her command for them. "Eliza, you can turn back now."

"What've we done?" George looked between Eliza, Katie, and then to himself. "And why do you get to keep yer hands?"

"Does it matter? Harry Potter's in there, losing." Addera turned to the door. "All three of you, back away from the door and—" she passed her glasses to Eliza, "—keep these safe." Waiting for all three of her thralls to retreat, Addera cleared her throat. —Open.—

Author's Notes:

To George's angry bludger, how would you feel about bashing some annoying helmeted ponies?

"My bludger, you mean?" Rolanda Hooch's eyes flashed with excitement. "And I'll have you know there's two of them, and I have seen all the ways a clever student or a house-elf could manipulate them—and I'm better at it than they are!"

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Fanart of Addera!

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Finding The Light

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"Hi, Harry. Heard it wasn't going so well in there?" George sounded normal, not at all like he'd been mind controlled by an ancient pony wizard. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Because last time I saw you, you were being mind controlled." I looked at George—now a fire-colored pony—and felt even more kinship for him. "What happened?"

"I'm still mind controlled, but it's by Addera now. Waaay better than Sombra." George gestured at Katie (also a pony) and Eliza (who resembled Hermione's midpoint as far as changes went). "We all are."

Katie reared up on her back legs and held her forelegs out before her. "I am under your command!" She fell forward pretty quickly, and had everyone giggling for a bit.

I watched as Eliza passed Addera her glasses, and when I realized she had them on, I leaned up and nuzzled the underside of Addera's jaw. She'd saved my life. This was probably it—she didn't owe me anymore. Would she leave me?

A bump to the top of my head broke me out of my sudden reverie. I looked up to get another bump from Addera's snout. "What?"

"Just making sure you're alright. How is your leg, Harry Potter? Your ribs?" Addera's voice was thick with concern—so much so it amazed me. When I didn't answer fast enough, she nuzzled at my horn.

"I'll be alright! You really used your whammy on them? What'd you do to make them act so—normal?" If the option was walking or riding in Addera's arms, I would normally have gone with the former, but right now it felt better to be where she could protect me most. Realizing Sombra was toying with me, that he'd planned our fight, was scary. Even Voldemort hadn't had that much foresight and planning.

"I just told them to be themselves, Harry Potter. I—I'm not proud of doing this to them, but the alternative is worse." Addera helped George and Katie gather up their robes and things up. George's robe in particular had shed a lot of extra things that had nothing to do with a game of quidditch.

"Don't worry, oh mistress of mind magics, I won't 'old a grudge." George might sound chipper, but I could see him looking down at his wand with a worried expression. "'Arry, how'm I supposed to hold my wand?"

My eye was caught by something gray that'd rolled out of George's robes. Normally a roll of tape would have nothing to do with quidditch, but for the game we'd just played, it was required equipment. "Remember how you laughed when they taped me to my broom?"

Eliza let out a giggle and stepped closer. She picked up the tape and reached for George's wand. "Lean forward. This will be a tricky bit of work without you shifting around."

I giggled myself into a full laugh as Eliza taped first George's, then Katie's wands to their heads. I was stuck laughing at them, and it was the perfect revenge for them taping me to a broom. "Unicorns!"

"What I don't get," George said while rolling his eyes up and inward to try to look at his wand, "Is why some of us are going all the way, while others stop halfway like Hermione and Eliza."

"I wasn't exactly using the best spells." Eliza tucked the roll of tape into her robes and drew her wand and bat out. "I'm—well—not the best witch."

"What?!" Snorting in a sign of shock, George stomped a hoof. "You're bloody brilliant on the quidditch pitch! And I have no idea what you've done to your broom, but it even left Harry's behind when you charged."

Watching blue crystal blush was a new experience that I wished I had my glasses for so I could see better. "We need to head out and find where Sombra went. He didn't have the Heart with him, so it mustn't have been in there."

"Where else would the Heart be? Haven't the ponies been searching for it?" Katie asked.

"Let's go out and ask," I said. When Addera hissed a little, I looked up at her. "What?"

"There's a war going on, Harry Potter. Albus Dumbledore himself carved me a way through the fighting to reach you. I'd rather not take you back through that." Addera's voice was strangely neutral, and it didn't take much thinking to realize she was masking her emotions.

Addera was scared.

I puffed up my chest—even if it hurt my sore ribs—and cleared my throat. "We have to go out there and help. If nothing else, we have to find Dumbledore and tell him what happened and that the Heart isn't here. We have to because if we don't, no one else will."

George and Eliza seemed to perk up at that, Katie always looked like she was ready for a fight of some kind, but it was Addera who looked down at me with her mouth agape.

"Well?" I asked her.

—For a thousand years I was safe and trapped down here, Harry Potter, and in one week with you I've been in more fights for my life than any sane serpent would get in.— Leaning down again, Addera pressed her cheek to mine. "We should go before I get an attack of sanity."

Addera held me so still I could barely move, which was good because I was fairly sure my leg was broken—having dealt with a broken arm earlier in the year, I knew that pain. She helped the others get out the hole we'd slid down, and soon we gathered on the rocks above, where we discovered Addera hadn't been lying about a battle.

Red flashes of light flickered and flared as helmeted ponies shot blasts at the students and teachers still standing. I couldn't make out most of what was going on, but there seemed to be a huge clump of the helmeted ponies to one side, and it looked like they were getting their butts kicked by someone.

"What's going on?" I asked.

George and Katie took off at a run and a shout. Both already screaming spells and sending them at another big group of helmeted ponies. A second later, Eliza jumped on her broom and launched into the sky.

Not waiting to explain either, Addera shot forward and drew her wand from somewhere in her mane. Pointing it forward, she cast a Disarming charm. "They're crowded around Dumbledore. There's someone—somepony—standing with him."

Dumbledore, now that I knew who the figure was, stood straight and gestured around him with his wand. The helmeted ponies countered and blasted, sending bolt after bolt at him—but none seemed able to connect. The pony standing with him was amazing, deflecting each attack at the last moment in what looked to be a bucking, impenetrable dance.

Eliza reached the helmeted ponies before any of us (her broom was amazing), and she swung down with something in her hand. As she connected her bat with a helmeted pony, they dropped to the ground in a heap.

George and Katie were still launching spell after spell, and while a few connected with their targets, each needed a lot of head swinging and luck to connect, but the helmeted ponies were numerous.

A concussive blast hit the circle of helmeted ponies just before us, and for a moment I saw Dumbledore as a pony (recognizable from all his gray mane and beard)—standing upright with his wand raised toward me—smiling a fraction before a red beam got past the other pony's defense.

Addera charged through the gap and past the circle of downed wizards and witches—all students bar one—to Dumbledore's side.

"I can hold them off now, Harry," the dark-maned earth pony that had been guarding Dumbledore said.

I did a double-take. The voice belonged to Gemma. Gemma Farley was the pony who'd been fighting at Dumbledore's side. With a vast swathe now cleared—by Dumbledore, for us—Gemma could keep up and return a few shots.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's voice was soft.

I squirmed and jumped out of Addera's arms, ignoring the lance of pain from my back leg or the clutching tightness that grabbed my ribcage when I landed. Winding through the last of the downed students, I reached Dumbledore. "Sombra was in the Chamber looking for the Crystal Heart. I tried to fight him, but—"

"But he was wearing you down. Severus told me about your magical fire, Harry." His voice was strained, but Dumbledore still had a smile for me. "If only we had it. The pony witch said that the Heart is key to defeating him, but not where it was."

"Why would he think it was down there? He was locked up for who-knows how long. Surely he'd know it was or wasn't there."

"Who knows indeed. How old was that chamber, I wonder? Old enough—" Dumbledore slumped a little, "—that Salazar put Addera down there to guard Sombra?" His eyes widened and he reached a hand out to rest on my shoulder. "Harry. It must be the wardstone! The wardstone is the Crystal Heart, it has to be. It was removed from the foundations when Hogwarts was built. Harry, you must take the pony wizard to my office and—and help them." Dumbledore looked like he was losing his battle with unconsciousness. Given how all the students around him seemed to be breathing still, I hoped he was just stunned too. "Go. Go quickly."

When Dumbledore slumped, I ignored all my pains and jumped forward to press my ear to his chest. A steady heartbeat and the sound of lungs inhaling and exhaling meant the world to me. Okay, that was good—now I wouldn't go crazy on the spot and try to burn everything.

Everything except living creatures.

Like a fireball shooting up above my head, the revelation echoed around in my skull. "Where's Professor Snape?"

"Harry! You have to get the Heart, Harry!" Gemma's words were strained. I don't know how she'd worked out to hold her wand in her hoof so quickly, but she was slinging spells faster than any witch or wizard I'd seen.

"Find Snape! Addera!" I turned to look at Addera. "You have to find Professor Snape and tell him to BURN the helmets off the crystal ponies. Our fire won't burn them, but it will burn their curses away!"

"Ex-pel-lee-ar-muss!" Addera lashed out with her spell at the nearest helmeted pony, then turned back to me. My horn itched with all the magic that was being cast around me—particularly from Gemma—but I quickly realized each caster felt subtly different, as did every spell. —I'll tell Professor Snape. You find that Heart, Harry Potter!—

I nodded and picked my path back toward the castle with my blurry eyesight. Despite my leg hurting worse than ever, I set a quick pace. The pain and my blurred eyesight saved me from recognizing most of the people on the ground, but here and there I spotted either the human face of someone knocked out before they'd cast a spell, or the robes and features of a pony (or almost pony) that had gone down fighting.

Little pockets of resistance still held here and there, with students banding around teachers to support them. There were two figures alone in a sea of helmeted ponies, their voices raised. I could only see the tip of Snape's horn, but it flared again and again as his sharp voice pronounced a litany of spells. McGonagall stood upright, holding her wand skillfully in one hoof as she sent one after another of the mind controlled ponies down.

Angling toward the pair—and approaching the horde of helmeted ponies around them—Addera took Snape the information that would let him dispatch the helmets themselves wholesale.

Green eyes flared and turned toward me, and I watched one of the helmeted ponies line up. So focused was I on them and not losing my footing that I didn't see a bludger come out of nowhere and smack into the side of the helmet. The green eyes flickered and went dim, and the pony fell to the ground.

A glance up—a brief one since it took my eyes away from where I was hobbling—showed me Madam Hooch with her wand held in her mouth, directing two bludgers around in curving arcs. She looked wild, though I had to wonder where she'd learned to cheat so well.

Around the stadium it seemed like chaos. People fighting the helmeted ponies, people being overrun by them, and people overrunning them. I charged for the side door of the castle (what I'd heard called the sally port by someone who'd known way more about castles than I ever thought I'd need to), and reached it just as a pony did.

I looked up at the purple unicorn and tried to smile as best I could. "Uh, hi! Professor Dumbledore said the Heart thing you're looking for is in his office. It's called a wardstone or something."

"My friends are trying to protect your friends. If you know where the Crystal Heart is, we need to go there right now before King Sombra finds it!" The urgency in her tone only increased the adrenaline pumping through me.

I quickly muttered the door-opening spell again, or what had worked in the Chamber, and it had the added advantage of actually ripping the door off its hinges—bonus points for wizard style. "Uh, I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

"Twilight Sparkle. What's the quickest way to get to the Heart?" She didn't seem to cast a spell, and yet I felt only the slightest twitch of magic as her horn glowed bright.

"Follow me!" I tried to gallop into the castle, but my broken leg twisted and pulled a cry from my throat as I started to fall. Before I could hit the ground, however, I was lifted up in white-purple magic that visibly covered me. "What the—?"

"You're hurt? Sit on my back and tell me where to go!"

I didn't have much choice than to hold on to her neck with my forelegs and look around somewhat blindly. I guided her up to the first and then second floor, and to the Gargoyle Corridor. When she came to a stop at the huge arched entrance to the Headmaster's Tower.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Professor Dumbledore is out." The huge stone gargoyle spoke as it stepped firmly between us and the doorway. "Interesting mount you have."

I looked up and up and up at the huge stone creature. I'd never heard it talk before, but then I'd only seen it twice, and both times someone was escorting me into the office. "Sherbet Lemon," I said.

The gargoyle scoffed but didn't move. "Of all the headmasters I've served, Dumbledore was the only one who ever took the time to just—"

"And he's lying outside, unconscious, in the middle of a war-zone. Please, he sent me—us—to find the wardstone in his office, and that's the only password I know that lets anyone—" I stopped speaking when the gargoyle stepped to the side.

"Why didn't you say it was important? Quickly, up the stairs!"

"Thank you!" Twilight and I both said together.

"Where do I go—Oh!" As Twilight asked, the spiral staircase slowly grew upward. She stepped onto it and started walking as it carried us up.

Like my previous visits, Dumbledore's office was impressive. I was pleased when even Twilight made a gasp of excitement, though she was looking at the bookshelves for some reason. There were magical things all through the room—everywhere you could look—and some of them were even alive.

"Is that a phoenix?!" Twilight practically ran over to Fawkes' perch. "Oh gosh, it is!"

I slid down from Twilight's back and used my good side to catch my weight before hobbling around in a circle. "What's the Crystal Heart look like?" It didn't help that I could barely see.

"Well…" Twilight's tone dragged off worryingly. "It's a heart—and it's made out of crystal."

As I turned to look at her, I noticed movement at the stairs. "Who's—?" I got no further. Sombra's form slowly came into view as he walked up to the landing. "Sombra!"

"Ah! A crowd has come to witness my coronation." Sombra stepped slowly around the room, keeping his eyes on us while also maintaining his distance. "You were a surprisingly adept adversary, Harry Potter, but you lacked wisdom. My prison cell was scarcely the most advantageous place to fight me."

Twilight, surprisingly, stepped between me and Sombra. "Why are you doing all this? Just stop and we can talk about it. It doesn't have to be this way!"

"Hmmm. You know what? You're right." The illusion of Sombra took a few careful steps closer to Fawkes and he tilted his head up to examine the phoenix. "Therefore, in the name of friendship and togetherness I ask for your unconditional surrender, assent to my rule, and—oh let's add a cherry—what say you try out this wonderful hat I designed? I promise you, there's one in both your sizes."

Shifting her stance a little, I could feel energy thrumming through Twilight Sparkle as she prepared for something. "I won't let you get away with this. Once we find the—"

"Crystal Heart?" Sombra asked. "It's gone. Lost to the ages. Almost two thousand years I'd spent on that magicless mud-ball. When I weakened my bonds just a little, creatures came and stole my crystals. They took them all over—spreading my magic thin. One of them took the Heart, and now it's stuck there while we're here. What say, little unicorn? Call Celestia and Luna, have them send me back so I can fetch it."

My eyes strayed to Fawkes. He was a bit of a hero to me, and after feeling his fire remake me, I felt there was a connection between us. Fawkes was shimmying on his perch—still looking the worse for wear after his molt—and kept looking one particular way.

It took every ounce of common sense to shove down the wizard in me and not turn to look. Instead, I cast my poor eyesight forward to see if there was something that would reflect enough of the location.

Then I saw it.

The stone looked more worn than the others around it. I couldn't make out all the details, but I could see a large crack down the middle, and I could feel something bubbling within—magic. If this was a weapon against Sombra, I had to get to it before he did, but common sense reminded me of how quick he snared my mind in the Chamber.

Whatever happened, I couldn't afford to get angry. Getting angry would mean so many priceless items would get destroyed for no reason. I fixed my eyes just to the side of Sombra, which was why I barely noticed another figure reach the top of the stairs.

The unicorn—that I strained not to look at—had orange fur, a reddish mane and tail, and white socks on each hoof. It was Percy, and he looked like death warmed up. The thing was, as I well remembered, Percy Weasley was an exceedingly well-trained wizard—he was top of his classes and perhaps even top of the school. Or so I hoped.

"Ah, Percy, so good of you to rejoin me. You know I promised your sister her family and friends would not be harmed, but I'd like for you to confirm that this unicorn is unknown to her?" Sombra had turned to look at Percy while gesturing at Twilight.

George Weasley felt more and more worry fill him. It wasn't like he hadn't been away from Fred for longer, but not knowing where any of his family was started to become a heavier and heavier yoke around his neck.

Addera had slithered off to find Snape for something Harry'd thought up, but he'd taken up a position beside Gemma Farley—with Katie Bell taking the other flank, and Eliza O'Leary sending shots down from above. "Who was with you here? I can't work out who's who in this madness!"

Gemma had barely had a moment to think about who was who, but with a competent wizard and witch at her side, she was able to escape the iron focus her defense of Dumbledore had taken. "Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Who're you looking for?"

"His brothers. His sister. Probably anyone who can stand and cast would be a good start!" Katie parried an incoming bolt with a shield and sent a Disarming charm after the helmeted pony who'd sent it. "Is this lot thinning out?"

Opening her mouth to reply, Gemma's eyes widened as a bludger came speeding out of nowhere and glanced off at least ten helmets. Gemma had never been big on quidditch, but seeing the iron-sheathed wooden ball knock a dozen of her foes down sure made her appreciate it now. "It is now. You should have seen him! I've never seen a wizard cast like that!"

Rainbow Dash was still getting used to having children be so much bigger than her, but the three that were defending all their fallen friends struck a chord with her. Pumping her wings hard to gain a lot of altitude, she tipped forward and aimed a hoof out—then she began to dive.

She wasn't going to reach the speed needed for a sonic rainboom, but that wasn't as important to Rainbow as hitting her marks just right. When she neared the ground, she stretched her wings a little wider and angled them to send her into a horizontal flight just above the heads of the helmeted ponies harassing the three.

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight— Rainbow Dash barely felt the impacts in her hoof—straight as it was—as she delivered a knockout blow to several dozen of the helmeted heads. At the end of her strafing run she pulled up and shot back out of sight before any return fire could reach her. What pleased her more than the effect of her dive was the cheering she heard from below. "Awww yeah!"

"Bloody heck! Did you see that?" George stared at the pony arcing back into the sky as fast as she'd dropped from it. "That was brilliant!"

"Don't spend too long singing 'er praises, there's a few she missed!" Katie had learned how to aim her taped-on wand with practice, and delivered a quick one-two take-down of another helmeted pony.

Eliza circled the damaged stadium, her eyes peeled for helmeted ponies that were pressing students and teachers too hard, and sending down her best Disarming charm to disorientate the attackers. Not for the first time did Eliza wish she were better at magic, but one advantage she had was that her broom was fast and nimble enough that she could avoid the few shots the helmeted ponies threw her way.

At least, Eliza managed to avoid the blasts until a group of helmeted ponies all looked up at her at once. One blast—dodged. Another blast—dodged. But the first two shots were to force her into position. A red beam swept behind Eliza's back and took the end of every twig on her broom clean off. A fourth shot turned the end of her broom's handle into sizzling splinters.

Feeling her broom give its last, Eliza was aware that she was falling. Kicking the broom away from her, she turned to the only thing she could think of to stop her hitting the ground hard enough to ensure she'd spend a long visit to the hospital wing.

George looked up at the shriek of surprise and watched Eliza lose her broom. He started pounding his hooves as fast as he could to get closer, only to watch her pull her robe up and spread her wings. For a fraction of a second George Weasley thought the girl was going to be fine, but there was more to flying than just having the equipment.

Panicked thoughts rushed through George's head. A regular Bounce charm would actually hurt her if she landed on a wing. A basic Levitation spell would need him to touch her. Levitation charm required more words than George could probably belt out before she hit. At last he pointed his wand and cast his best Hover charm.

The spell grabbed Eliza when she was just ten feet above the ground. One moment she'd been falling and flailing with her wings, the next she slowed to a gentle floating. Turning her head, she saw George galloping toward her. A little smile spread over Eliza's lips a moment before the stunning bolt of magic hit her.

Already aiming his head at the helmeted pony that hit Eliza with the stun, George shouted, "Ex-pel-lee-ar-muss!" at the top of his lungs, only to hear a similar call come from somewhere beside him.

Both spells hit the ground of helmeted ponies and—thanks to their blast radius—knocked all of the targets down.

Panting, looking around for more threats, George was surprised at getting a punch in the shoulder. He turned to look at whoever had helped him dispatch Eliza's attackers, and grinned. "I shoulda known it'd be you."

"Like I'd let you get away and save yer bird on yer own." Fred punched George in the shoulder with a hoof again for good luck. "Well that's going to ruin one game, aint-it?" He held up a bright red hoof.

George held up his own hoof—orange—and compared their apparent opposite-complemented colors. "Yeah, but still—Wait a tick. 'Ow'd you hold your wand?"

"Like this?" Fred asked with his wand held firmly to the end of his hoof.

George burned with envy for nearly a minute before he remembered something—or rather, someone. "Let's check on Eliza. Did you see 'ow fast she is—was—on that old broom?"

"Yeah, and there was something odd about the shots that took 'er down. Those ponies couldn't have planned that themselves, it'd take way too long. Someone's controlling all of them." Pausing, as they walked toward where Eliza was hovering, Fred looked at George. "You've got a thing for 'er!"

"Shut up!" George realized at the last moment that he had no way of catching Eliza when his charm wore off. "Well, maybe. But come on, you saw her flying!" Deciding on a full levitation charm, George cast it and dispelled the previous one at the same time. "She was amazin'."

"On the old thing she was on? Yeah. Bring her this way," Fred said.

"Gemma and Katie are over there. Dumbledore with a bunch of Hufflepuff and Slytherin went down." George pointed with a hoof. "Kinda respect them for standing up with the old 'eadmaster."

"Alright, alright. We head there and start levitatin' everyone back to the stadium. Where's Ron?"

George sighed, knowing they had committed themselves to something just as important as finding their little brother. "I was hopin' you were gonna say he was with your lot. Let's get all these sleepers moved and then go looking for him."

Percy Weasley woke from the nightmare he'd been living—or so it felt to him. There was a snap of tension as he felt something kick into the part of his being that Sybill Trelawney had pronounced "Atrophied to uselessness."

Stumbling off the bed, he found himself stuck on all fours still. Some part of his hazy mind put together the facts that no one in the school had found a way to reverse the change yet. Shaking his head to clear the fuzz from it, Percy felt a great need to reach the Gryffindor tower.

His body felt new all over again. Percy looked down at his hooves as he walked through the hallway and out into the castle itself. White-painted hooves, orange fur, and—when he turned his eyes toward each other and up—a horn on his head. "This is my punishment."

When Percy reached the painting, he realized how wrong everything was. There were no students in Hogwarts, and it was far too quiet. "Open up!"

"What's the password?"

Groaning at the fact he didn't know the week's password, Percy had just one fallback to use. There was a second password that was never to be used except in extreme emergencies, and never with anyone else around. "Prefect password—Percy's full of it."

"Percy Weasley, is that you?" The fat lady sounded shocked. "I knew some students were feeling a little hoarse, but I do believe you've taken it too far."

"Sorry, ma'am, didn't really have a choice. I'm in a bit of a rush…" Despite not having the time to be nice, Percy knew there was nothing to be accomplished in being short with her—except wasting more time.

"Quite understandable, dear. In you go." The fat lady shifted her painting and the doorway into Gryffindor tower opened.

Percy clattered through the hole, almost stumbling as he worked out how to get his hooves to navigate uneven terrain. Something called to him—something important.

Rushing through the common room, Percy ascended the stairs toward the boys' dorms, and stopped on the floor his brother called home. Rushing to Harry Potter's bedside table, Percy found what he was looking for immediately, opened the diary, and screamed.

Ginny Weasley had finally worked out the trick of pulling someone into her diary. When she felt someone open her cover, she quickly worked the magic and expected Harry to crash into her reality. When she saw Percy—her big brother—standing in the library and looking confused, she ran over to him and hugged him. "Percy!"

"Ginny?!" Percy wasn't just surprised, he was shocked. For a start he was human, but so was Ginny. He hugged her to him just as tight as he could. "What happened? Where's Sombra?"

"Still somewhere with my body, I suppose. Where have you been? Percy? What's wrong?!" Ginny pulled back from her brother and looked up into his face. When she saw tears in Percy's blue eyes, Ginny pulled him to her again, but her role was opposite to what she she needed. "Tell me everything."

Slowly, Percy managed to get his emotions under control, then lost that control as he told his little sister everything. He bawled like a child again as she held him, and he felt the uncontrollable need to just purge everything he felt. Eventually, he finished and was empty. Minutes—hours passed. "What do I do?"

"Was it—she—really me?" Ginny felt Percy nod against her. "Are you sure it wasn't Sombra using my memories? He has my body, there could still be—"

"It was you. I felt it was you, but there was something missing that I feel now." Percy snorted back a sob. "She had no soul, Ginny."

Memories swirled around in Ginny's head. The private study of Tom Riddle's told her much about several darker things—in particular the darkest and most final of curses: Avada Kedavra. It would drive a soul from a body and halt the body, but she mused over what would happen if the last step failed. "So—So she has all my memories and being, but not my soul?"

Percy could only nod again.

"That shouldn't be possible, but we can't rule it out. She—I—wouldn't be helping him without a good reason." Her mind racing, Ginny tried to come up with a plan. "We have to stop her so we can show her a way out of his clutches. We need to find what Sombra is using against her and stop it."

"I think something bad is happening. I think Sombra is invading, looking for something."

"The Crystal Heart—Harry told me about it. It was a weapon that could be used against Sombra. If you can help Dumbledore and the ponies find the Heart, before Sombra does, he can be stopped and this other Ginny can be freed."

Finding out his baby sister had been rent in two hurt Percy. He was man enough—despite his age—to want to protect his family above all else. He'd failed. "I'll find Dumbledore. He needs to know it's in Hogwarts and not outside. Why else would Sombra attack?"

"Take me with you." A pang of worry filled Ginny. "If he finds me, he'll use me, too."

Percy shook his head. "You won't be safe with—"

"Take. Me. With. You! You're the only one I can trust, Percy. I believe in you." They were the last words of Ginny's Percy heard before he was ejected from the book.

A new fire burned within Percy Ignatius Weasley, and it scorched the parts of him that Sombra had shrouded in shadows. Bundling up Ginny's diary, he tied it to his foreleg with a charm. Then he froze, shocked that he'd cast magic at all. "I guess this horn is good for something."

When he left the Gryffindor Tower, Percy heard heavy hooffalls echoing through the stairs. Crouching, feeling the new fire warm him against the cold, he watched Sombra climb the stairs looking magnificent in a shroud of dark magic. How Percy knew it was an illusion, he didn't know, but he followed the tyrant toward a hallway he knew well.

Only when Sombra ascended the stairs into the Headmaster's office did Percy carefully slink up the hallway. "Sherbert Lemon," he murmured softly to the stone gargoyle before noticing the creature was frozen solid. Percy hadn't even seen what Sombra had done to the gargoyle, but the new fire within him let him ignore the casual use of magic that had killed such an ancient guardian.

Shining Armor hadn't thought about the implications of the flare. It was a call for help from ponies under his command, and that was all that mattered. "Move out! Prepare for full offense. I'll handle defense!"

As she crested a ridge with the Royal Guard surrounding her and Shining, Cadance could see the warzone that Hogwarts castle's sports field had become. She gasped, watching the students on the near side falling to the helmeted crystal ponies—having turned themselves into ponies in their efforts—and further terror gripped her as she saw some of them having helmets fitted. "Shiny, we have to stop this. This is not right!"

"You heard the princess!" Lieutenant Star Flare wanted to look good for his captain, wanted to look good for his princess, but he was also a pony through and through—he wanted to do good because it was good. "Bring up the pace. Let's show those helmet-heads why we're the best! Stuns and takedowns only, those helmets are controlling ponies, not the other way around."

"Sir!" six voices shouted. The squad had arranged themselves into a V formation with their captain in the front and Shining Armor taking up the final position on their right flank. Big ponies, their hooves sounded like thunder on the cold ground as they charged into the fray.

Shining Armor's horn flickered to life moments before the first red beam lanced out at the Royal Guard. The pink glow that surrounded just eight ponies was powerful enough that it could have protected an entire city—with this level of focus, the beam wasn't just reflected, it was nullified.

Their first target was the group of helmeted ponies that were fitting new helmets to students. Their V dove deep into the enemy and relied on the helmeted ponies' self preservation to keep them out of the way of lashing hooves.

Once she was close enough to see the students rising to wobbly legs with the dark headgear and glowing green eyes, Cadance let loose with her frustration and desire to see this end. "Stop!"

Alicorn magic was a different beast to most pony magic. It carried with it enough raw energy to forge its own patterns completely dependent on the will of the alicorn. It made new spells as quickly as the caster could think.

Dark helmets cracked and broke, dividing in half and falling from the heads of the students. Cadance turned her power on the crystal pony invaders next, and began sweeping her spell around the nearest.

Ronald Weasley shook his head the moment the helmet fell off of him. He could only stare at the pinkest pony he'd ever seen in awe as her power freed not just the students around him, but the formerly helmeted crystal ponies too. The quidditch match could have gone better, he reflected, as he looked around for his wand.

The pull of a wand to its wizard was strong, and though Ron had only cast a few hurried spells with his new one, it had been made by his brother and had accepted him fully. Though he could feel the living willow calling to him, Ron couldn't see it among the bodies of the students still unconscious.

Shouting at the top of his lungs, Ron put all his desire into the forefront of his mind and cast a Summoning charm with just a gesture of his hoof. The drain to him was immense, but he saw the wand squirm out from between two crystalline bodies and come flying toward him.

There was no time to think, Ron grabbed the wand between his teeth and growled out a Locomotion charm around the wood. When his wand wobbled and shook, but floated free of his mouth, Ron Weasley ran toward where the Royal Guard had put up a defense. "What can I do to help?!"

Author's Notes:

Though I do have to wonder where Shining and Cadence are in all of this.

Shining Armor tilted his head to the side a little. "The attack was as much news to us as it was to the wizards and witches, although we seemed to have been lucky in that whoever organized the assault didn't know about us."

"Honey, this wasn't even a question," Princess Cadance said.

Shining jerked and looked back at the prompt. "Huh. Well, it had the most votes, and it seemed like a question."

"Where's the question mark?"

"The will of the people has spoken, Cady. Besides, we're at the end of the ask section, and I don't even have time to finish—"

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In The Shadow

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I stared at Percy—he looked terrible. His eyes were big, like all ponies', but they had a haunted expression in them. "Percy?"

"I have come to help you, master." Percy didn't sound like himself, and given he was just about the only non-crystal pony around, he didn't look himself either. "Harry, you shouldn't fight him. He'll help us—he promised." As Sombra turned to look at me too, I noticed the slightest movement from Percy Weasley—he winked.

Sighing, I let my shoulders hang. "We really can't beat you, can we?" I didn't dare look at Sombra, he was probably better at picking out porky pies than I was at telling them. "You wanted the Crystal Heart?"

"No!" Twilight Sparkle said, and her cry almost broke my ability to carry out the deception.

"Yes! Give it to me!" Sombra sounded so sure of himself that he would believe anything I told him now. "Where was it hidden?"

"It was in the Chamber of Secrets. Now it's in the castle—" so far I'd only told the truth, but now I had to be convincing enough that Sombra would go along with me, "—I hid it in the owlery." Mentally I crossed fingers I no longer had.

"Show me! Take me there!" Sombra strode back toward the stairs leaving me to follow.

He'd seemed to have forgotten about Twilight. The anticipation of victory had made Sombra into prime wizard material, for sure. I trotted after him and left Twilight behind in Dumbledore's office alone.

Alright, Harry, now to do everything you can to buy Twilight the time she needs to find the Heart and do whatever she needs with it. I could stand up against Sombra again, that wasn't the problem, but having Percy with me meant Sombra had someone I wouldn't sacrifice.

"Have you ever seen an owl, King Sombra?" I asked.

Sombra let me step into the lead. "Once or twice. I've seen several circling around your castle."

I could have walked slowly, but that was such an obvious stalling trick he would be tipped off right away—this needed to be played smart, which meant no wizard until the right moment. Leading the way to owlery meant taking a long walk at the best of times, which given the abandoned nature of the castle this was.

"We think I might have made an owl my familiar. She's really clever, is Hedwig, and she knows what I'm thinking and I always know what she's thinking too." I waited until we were well away from the Headmaster's office before asking, "You don't care about Twilight?"

"Once I have the Crystal Heart, she won't matter anymore. None of them will matter. With the power I can generate from the Heart, I won't need to recover my old magic." He sounded so proud and sure of himself I could almost have mistaken him for Voldemort.

I distracted myself from Sombra's continued ranting by imagining him and Voldemort having a monologue-off. Voldemort would always win, of course, since Sombra would be a little hoarse by the end of it.

A grin creased my snout and I thought back to Dumbledore's first lesson on Defense Against the Dark Arts. Maybe Snape could get involved and start telling them both they're terrible at potion making?

Imagining the growing situation where everyone I disliked was stuck together putting up with each other served to keep me smiling all the way to the bottom of the owlery tower. Looking at the stairs, I tried to match the mood a little better with a softer smile. "I hid it up there. Hardly anyone one goes to the owlery except me."

Sombra advanced on the stairs, walking alongside me for a moment before he turned and looked down at me. "Why did you hide it?"

"Because that's what being a wizard is all about. Secrecy, gaining power, and at the right time shoving the odd enemy off a battlement without a wand." Wizardry was also knowing when it was time to just wing it and hope things would fall together. Wait, I thought I'd decided wizarding this wouldn't help? Too late now, I guess. "Being a wizard means knowing the right time to act."

"You know, I believe I could have done well at this school when I was younger." Sombra walked beside me up the long, spiraling staircase. "Though I was apparently a few thousand years too late, perhaps you and I could start a new school to teach prodigies the ways of true power?"

Good work, Harry Potter! You managed to make best buddies with the bad guy. This was a new low, but while he was talking with me, Sombra wasn't returning to stop Twilight getting the Heart. "Percy could help. He's practically the smartest kid at school already. Ain't ya Percy?"

Percy might be smart, and might be well-behaved normally, but right now he looked about as comfortable with walking on four legs as a chicken would be. That brought up an interesting thought. Do ponies have chickens? Do they eat eggs? For that matter, is there a replacement? What kind of chicken-like monsters are there that a wizard would mention instead?

"Y-Yeah, Harry." Now Percy sounded as confident as he walked. This was not ideal. "I don't know if I'm teacher material, though."

"Sure you are, Percy, you taught me all about Gryffindor, and your brothers taught me just about everything else." We were nearly halfway up the stairs and almost run out of meaningless stuff to talk about. "Speaking of your brothers, you should have seen them playing earlier. We won the quidditch game, you know? They kept the bludgers off me just long enough for me to grab the snitch."

Seeming to perk up at a return of normal conversation, Percy actually smiled. "I wish I could have seen the game, Harry. How many points does that put us at for the tournament?"

"That's the thing, you see, the tournament doesn't carry points over."

"What? But then the snitch would be—"

"The most important move in any game. That's why the others were trying to do more blocking than actually trying to score. It worked." We were almost to the top. I focused all my attention upward and thought, 'Hedwig, I don't know if you can understand this, but get all the owls away before we reach the top.'

Owls, of course, could move silently, so when we got to the top of the owlery tower and found it empty but for Hedwig, it was quite a surprise—to everyone but me. "Hello girl! How are you?" I walked over to Hedwig and nuzzled my snout into her soft feathers. "Good work," I said in a whisper.

Hedwig let out an approving whistle and a curious little bark that made me nod.

"Yeah, things are a bit messed up. We've got it under control now, though." I turned to look back at Sombra. "You see, Hedwig, we came up here—the furthest part of Hogwarts from the headmaster's office—to distract King Sombra from Twilight finding the Crystal Heart."

I didn't have long to react to Sombra's magic. If I wanted to avoid being mind-controlled by him, I'd need to be angry. It was easy to get angry at him—I'd practically had to work to not be angry at him. It sucked that I'd be destroying the owlery, but defeating Sombra was more important. His attempts at manipulations failed to take any hold on me at all.

When Sombra turned for the stairs, Percy gestured with one hoof and shouted the incantation for a fire spell. A regular Fire-making charm. With a flick of his hoof, Percy threw the burst of fire at the wooden stairs in front of Sombra.

The retaliation for the fire spell would come fast, so I threw myself at Percy and knocked him to the floor.

Sombra's magic hit me with full force. It burned me with a cold chill that bypassed the protection my scales would have given me to actual fire. Before I could be overwhelmed by it, I opened my mouth and stepped forward to stand over Percy, and swallowed the magic.

"You are becoming quite the annoyance. What's your plan then, Harry? What masterful stroke have you built up to deal with me once and for all that will leave you and your friend beyond my reach?" Sombra sounded both curious and angry.

The crystal clear sight of Sombra looking curious and furious gave me my best idea yet—talking to him would buy even more time. Through clenched teeth, I fought past my anger to get some words out. "Plan?! What plan?!"

Percy began laughing, which threatened to distract me from being the angry little not-pony I was. "You expect Harry Potter to have a plan? This is the boy who stumbled—if what Professor Snape said is right—through the deadliest traps the teachers have ever put together and then defeated He-who-shall-not-be-named by touching him."

"You expect me to believe you both stumbled up here with no plan other than to keep me busy while somepony maybe worked out how to save Equestria from me?"

"It's working," Percy said. "And who knows—if the fire burns through the floor, all three of us could fall to our deaths. Wouldn't even need the Heart thing then."

"A fall wouldn't kill me. I'd just need to find a new body. Enough of this nonsense." Turning, Sombra jumped through the flames Percy had created, and for just a moment Ginny's pony body was visible through the illusion.

Wincing at the crystal clear sight of Ginny's body getting its fur singed, I tried to let go of my anger. "Percy? Can you tell me a joke?" It was still much easier to get angry than to calm down.

"A joke? Now?!"

"I could burn down the rest of the castle if you like? I haven't tried burning stone yet, but if I figure out a big enough spell I might—"

"Alright! Alright!" Percy danced around some of my fire, which he needn't have of course. "Right, what happens to a wizard who falls in a well?" He paused a moment. "He gets down-maged!"

"That was terrible." Despite being terrible, the joke had a slight effect on me. Maybe it was funnier because it was terrible. "More!"

Beside me, Hedwig (who didn't seem afraid of the fire licking from my body and the floor around us), let out the most despairing bark I'd ever heard.

That was enough. The silliness of the situation and Percy's bad pun got me giggling, and then laughing, and my anger was sated with joy.

"Harry? I don't think we can get down the stairs." Percy had apparently realized my fire didn't burn him, but he was still edging back from the wooden staircase that was growing hotter with yellow-orange flame.

"Well, I can, but you can't." As soon as I said it, the burning stairs collapsed and fell down to the stone ones far below. The floor under us didn't seem much better. "Percy, we might have messed this up."

The worst of it was that the droppings everywhere seemed to feed the flames. They burned hotter and hotter. "Can you put the flames out?" Percy asked. When I shook my head, he backed up to the ledge with me. "Then I think you might be right. Ron told me about your fire, Harry. It's why I tried to stop him with normal flames."

"I figured that. Do you think we delayed him enou—" My back left leg found nothing but air, and of course that was my good one. The stability of four good legs—three at the moment—had failed me. My broken leg erupted with pain and collapsed under me.

There was a horrible feeling that I'd messed up bad. My sense of balance screamed at me to adjust my stance by shoving my good back leg down, but it had nothing but air below it.

I fell backward, only to have Percy grab both my forelegs in his. "Harry!" He barely got the word out when he (having been so unstable on four legs already) tipped forward after me.

My life flashed before my eyes as we fell. I tried to remember all the spells we'd learned to save us from falling, but they flicked through my mental grip as the terror of the situation became too much. I panicked and screamed as we fell from what was one of the taller towers in Hogwarts.

Twilight Sparkle stared at the foal who'd managed to lead King Sombra away. At the last moment, when she thought for sure Sombra'd come rushing back up, she almost jumped at the soft whistle of a bird behind her.

Remembering the troubles her friend Fluttershy had with a similar bird—and extrapolating based off the ashes under the perch—Twilight could make a rough guess at Fawkes' species. "You're a phoenix, aren't you? Do you know where the Crystal Heart—err, wardstone—is?"

Fawkes wasn't a stupid bird, something that on its own didn't set a very high bar, but he also was quite clever by human standards. He'd heard the ponies talking earlier and knew what they were after. Spreading his wings, he stepped off his perch and glided across the room to where the foot-cubed hunk of rock that was Hogwarts' wardstone sat on a steel stand all on its own. Perching on the stone itself, he leaned down and pecked at the crack in it.

The old rock stood out from the stones that made up the wall of the castle both by color and texture. It looked old in the way only a rock ever could, and the rock was a darker color than the ancient stones of Hogwarts. Down the middle of the wardstone was a crack that looked much more recent than whatever effort had gone into its quarrying. Something about the stone, however, made it seem heavier than it looked.

Now that Twilight's attention was on it, the stone upon which Fawkes had perched seemed to draw all her focus. "That doesn't look like the Crystal Heart, but is it—" Twilight used her magic to attempt to pick up the wardstone (phoenix and all), but the moment her purplish magic touched it more cracks appeared and the existing one got wider and longer.

An icy-blue glow began to emanate from one of the bigger cracks. Twilight braced herself, lowered her horn, and gave the wardstone a good blast of her magic.

Power seemed to scream through Twilight as the stone responded to her efforts. More cracks appeared, and then from one instant to the next, the stone cracked and fell into shards to reveal a shimmering blue heart-shaped crystal, which fell over.

Grabbing what she really hoped was the Crystal Heart in her magic, Twilight shivered at how it responded to her—it was buzzing with potential, but her magic wasn't enough to stir it. "Okay, now to take this and use it to—" An edge of worry hit Twilight as words failed her, then relief flooded in. "Cadance will know!"

Trotting to the stairs, Twilight negotiated them down to the hallway below, then broke into a canter to reach the main atrium that would lead down to the front doors. Twilight leaned over the railing and looked down, energized her horn, and didn't teleport.

"Well that's not fair. Okay, let's focus on this logically. Any stairwell that goes down—since I'm on the second floor—should be the right one." Picking one of the two stairwells, Twilight began heading down. Soon, she discovered that wizards and witches rarely did logical things.

"Twilight Sparkle!" Sombra's voice echoed throughout the castle, amplified by his fury if nothing else. "Bring me the Crystal Heart!"

"Look, castle, we might not know each other, but if you don't want him taking over, you should make this a bit eas—" Twilight froze. She spotted the front doors to the castle, and spotted the stairs needed to reach them.

Laying on the speed, Twilight rushed out the front doors of Hogwarts to find a lot of ponies. There was some humans among them—and some half-and-halfs—but it was mostly a sea of ponies clinging to their old things while walking toward the doors of the castle. "Cadance! I found it!"

Every student and every teacher of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, along with the few crystal ponies that'd been freed of their helmets prior to the battle, would remember that moment.

Eyes that glittered like gemstones raised to the Crystal Heart, and all of them felt a pull. Magic began to swirl and build—crackling in the air. Behind Twilight, a rumbling sound began as Hogwarts itself began to rise from its foundations on shimmering crystal.

Equine bodies stirred around the students and teachers. One by one the formerly helmeted crystal ponies woke and stood up. The power of the Crystal Heart kindled hope and warmth in each of them, and as one they fixated on watching the Heart.

"Twilight?" Cadance stepped up toward her sister-in-law. "Look behind you, Twilight."

The rumbling that Twilight had so far done her best to ignore in the face of so many ponies watching her, finally resolved itself as she turned. The dull stone and old structure of Hogwarts castle was now two whole stories higher than it should have been.

Having pushed the school upward, shining crystal refracted light in all directions, and a pair of huge double-doors stood open before Twilight Sparkle. She stared at the change as the old human-designed fortress gave way to a much more Equestrian-looking crystal structure supporting it.

"I think this is your cue, Cadance," Twilight Sparkle said.

The magic of the Crystal Heart, when Twilight passed it to her, sang to Cadance. A growing choir—the heart-voices of all the crystal ponies present—propelled Cadance forward as the music rose. Somehow, Cadance knew the two crystalline spikes in the entry hall of the expanded castle was the Heart's home, and so she carried it as she walked forward.

Twilight, unsure what to do, followed along with Cadance, and smiled as she realized her brother was on Cadance's other side. "Do you know what needs to be done?"

Cadance nodded, the slight motion causing the light refracting around the huge chamber to almost dazzle her. "I think we just have to put the Heart there, and then—"

"No." King Sombra's voice was a cold and rough burr among the tune the Heart was making. His magic hung in ribbons around him, unable to stand up to the burning power of the Crystal Heart and all the light the crystals refracted around the new entrance to Hogwarts—leaving him with the body of a filly. "I have spent too long, and come too far, to let you stop me!"

"Sombra!" Cadance took another step forward. "Your time is over. We won't let you hurt anypony ever again!" She didn't have to look to know her husband and sister-in-law were at her sides—she felt them.

Darkness seemed to envelope Sombra as he pulled shadows around himself. Restoring his imposing form by pouring dark magic around himself, he took a step forward and readied his more offensive magic. "I'll admit, sending foals to their doom as a mere distraction was a master stroke even I wouldn't have thought you capable of." He didn't hold back. An ancient version of a very modern spell lanced out toward Cadance with green-burning fury.

Shining reacted first, erecting a pink-glowing shield of magic that deflected Sombra's first offensive spell, though it took a lot of energy in doing so. As he recovered, as second bolt shot toward the shield, and it only held because another unicorn channeled magic into it: Twilight.

When the third strike came, Cadance watched the shield falter and shatter such that the fourth bolt of deadly magic was coming right for her. The Heart responded.

A shiver of magic poured out of the Crystal Heart and wrapped around Princess Cadence, Prince Shining Armor, and Twilight Sparkle. In an instant they changed from alicorn and unicorns into shimmering crystal versions of themselves.

Time seemed to slow for Cadance, and as Sombra's beam of green magic rushed toward her. Cadance's own magic responded joyously and without any but the slightest expenditure of will, and blasted back with a beam of light from her horn. Though she'd been taking lessons in magic ever since getting her horn, she was normally less than effective at its use. Now, however, her magic worked exactly how she wanted it to.

The three Equestrians began advancing on Sombra as brilliant blue light roared from Cadance's horn and into the green blaze of dark magic. The two beams met in a continuous flare of light and dark that caused a huge flickering ball of bright light.

While Cadance advanced with her own magic, Shining and Twilight recovered and started sending their own blasts after Sombra, who managed to deflect them almost as an afterthought to his battle of will with Cadance.

Finally, a hint that things might not be going his way became clear to Sombra. Not only wasn't his death-dealing magic affecting Cadance, but she was advancing with the Crystal Heart toward the mounting spires. Despite his realization that he was about to have his worse day in over a thousand years, Sombra focused on ensuring the moment would still go his way. "You'll never defeat me!"

Sending her will after a renewed attack by Sombra, Cadance braced her resolve and stepped onto the dais where one of the spike reached up from the floor toward its twin that stretched down from above. With her magic focused on Sombra's she used her wings to reach forward with the Crystal Heart and place it between the two points.

"Sombra, you have my permission to never darken the doors of the Crystal Empire ever again."

The last step—what felt right to Cadance—was to set the Heart in motion. She gave it the gentlest touch with her magic and it started to turn.

Minerva McGonagall had been watching, stunned, from outside. Nothing seemed to happen for several seconds as the Heart turned, but with a few carefully chosen spells to divine the nature of the magic, she pointed one crystalline forehoof toward the glow of light pulling itself from the Crystal Heart. "That's a Patronus!" Her own magic began to tease and spool from her to join the boiling storm of power around Princess Cadance, fueling the spell the Heart embodied and sharing Minerva's happiest memories to feed the ancient charm.

Every crystal pony, every student, and every teacher present felt their hearts soar and feed the Crystal Heart in constructing the biggest spell any of them had ever witnessed before. For a moment all the magic seemed to freeze in the air around the Crystal Heart, and then it began to speed up.

Sombra had barely a moment of surprised panic before the light hit him, passed through him, and ripped his form to pieces. It started with the illusion of dark magic he'd woven over himself. Shadows meant to defend and protect him were ripped free in great slices. Even as his magic was being torn apart, Sombra clung to the life of the body he'd stolen and bound his shadow essence to it even tighter. "You haven't heard the last—"

The Crystal Heart pulsed.

A spray of light, now in a rainbow hue, spread outward from the Heart like an explosion. The Equestrian ponies and even Severus Snape had their bodies charged with magic to resemble the crystal ponies that were among them. Those wizards and witches that hadn't cast enough magic to finalize their pony transformations were immediately reshaped into crystal beings, though they were a mix of pure ponies, ponies able to walk upright at will, and half-human ponies. The crystal ponies themselves became even more so—refracting a million rainbows of light from their bodies.

Of King Sombra or Ginevra Wesley's body there was no sign. In the end the dark unicorn had bound so much of himself into the small body that when he was destroyed, so too was the body of Ginevra Molly Weasley.

Moments Earlier

Rolanda Hooch—flapping her wings as she circled the people below—had her gaze torn from the Crystal Heart by flare of fire in the owlery tower. Turning her head, her eyes narrowed of their own volition to spot two shapes falling from the spire. She regretted her wings weren't the speed-machines Rainbow Dash had as she pumped them as hard as she could. Rolanda flew toward the tower while already preparing herself for two spells. Two spells she wasn't sure she'd get off in time.

Harry James Potter had thought his luck had finally run short. Everyone was distracted fighting a battle, or finding the Crystal Heart, and his "destiny" was fast approaching. All he could think to do was to get angry, and burning a hole in the ground wouldn't work.

It was a surprise, then, when a pair of strong claws latched onto Harry, and he felt more than heard Hedwig's wings as they pulled upward with all their might.

The hardest decision of Rolanda's life was made for her. Hedwig had swooped in and was slowing Harry's fall enough that (she hoped) he wouldn't be hurt too badly when he reaches the ground. As she got within range of her spell, she barked out the activation word and gestured at Percy Weasley with an outstretched hoof.

Percy had watched as Harry jerked upward in Hedwig's grip and all he could feel was happiness that it was Harry that would survive. Tumbling now, he caught a glimpse of the rocks below him rushing upward until there was a bare finger's width between him and the ground—then he bounced upward.

Everything had happened so fast that Harry barely had time to contemplate what had happened before he did hit the ground. When he crashed into the hard sod of the Highlands that Hogwarts had brought with it to Equestria, however, it wasn't with the force he'd expected when he'd first fallen.

Kirin and owl wrapped around and hugged to each other, sacrificing limbs to protect each other's body. More bones were broken, and it wasn't until they stopped rolling that either could feel the full impact of their "landing."

By the time Rolanda landed beside Harry, Percy had stopped bouncing and was making his way over to the pair as well. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

Surprised at finding himself still alive, Harry made a groan to prove to the world that it hadn't won yet. "What happened?" He tried to move as little as possible, particularly since he could see one of Hedwig's wings was bent in a way an owl's wing should not bend.

"I'm fairly certain two young wizards who don't have wings tried to jump out of a burning tower." As soon as Rolanda finished speaking, she looked up—having forgotten the tower was on fire in her haste to save her students. "We should probably move somewhere el—"

The rushing wave of magic hit the four as the Crystal Heart was fully powered for the first time in a thousand years. All of Equestria Felt the joy and lightness of spirit as its magic scoured the most evil of creatures from their midst, but none felt it so much as Harry Potter and Hedwig.

Gasping in surprise, Harry felt bones align themselves and knit together and damaged muscles strengthen, but nothing was as delightful as what he watched happen to Hedwig. Her wings shivered and twisted back into the right shapes, and shimmering like a crystalline statue, Hedwig stood up and whistled to Harry. "I don't know either, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the Crystal Heart."

Hedwig barked and used her restored wings to bounce up onto Harry's back before digging her claws into his scales. She hadn't precisely noticed herself getting smarter, but rather she recognized Harry's intelligence more now she could understand him properly. She wasn't sure why the pain had stopped, but was content with the fact it had and that Harry was alright too. Walking up his back as he walked, she whistled and nibbled at his mane approvingly.

"What I don't get," Harry Potter said as they walked around the new crystalline base of Hogwarts, "Is how he didn't use his mind whammy on you, Percy?"

"He did." The pain of what he'd done stung Percy Weasley sharply, but his whole life he'd dedicated himself to being the best he could be, and now he knew that meant telling his story. As they walked around the castle, he explained what had happened, what he'd stolen (though he didn't know exactly what it was), and even how his little sister had saved him from it all.

Rolanda took a moment to think of her words before deciding on the best path. A dressing down wouldn't do, not for a student who'd been attacked right from the start, and especially not for one who had made it through such an ordeal. "I believe, Mr. Weasley, that you've had a lucky break there. Not all witches and wizards can boast surviving such a brush with a master of dark arts with their sanity." That said, she strode ahead a little to leave the boys walking side by side.

"D' ya think we won?" Harry asked.

"I figure so. I'm pretty sure that if Sombra got the Heart, we wouldn't be feeling happy and be pretty crystal ponies. I'm actually fairly sure we'd both feel rubbish, and have helmets jammed on our heads." Percy looked back and up to see the owlery smoldering a little, but apparently having gone out. "Do you think we'll have to clean that up?"

"Nah. We're the heroes. You never have to clean up stuff if you're the hero. Trust me." Harry felt like pronking and running and bounding and jumping, but had to keep himself restrained with Hedwig on his back. "Besides, they wouldn't send me back in again, what with my likelihood of setting it on fire again."

Percy managed a short laugh, but it died in his throat as they were turning around the last bend toward the courtyard. He stopped. "I helped him, Harry. I wanted to."

"He wanted you to want to. Percy, he had George under his control in a snap, barely even noticed it. Then he had Katie and Eliza too."

"What'd you do to get them out?" A new hope filled Percy. If someone had broken that hold, he could get the same assistance to uproot the last of Sombra's tricks from his own head.

"Well, it wasn't me, but Addera just whammied them even harder. I don't know the specifics, but she basically put the three of them under her own control, and then told them to do what they want." Just the memory of Addera's eyes made Harry wobble a little still, though only when he wasn't angry. "I'm sure she'd do the same for you."

Author's Notes:

Twilight: What do you think of kirin Harry Potter? He can set himself on fire like you did.

"I've read stories about kirin, but I never thought I'd see one myself! And he's quite brave for a colt, reminds me of somepony..." Twilight winked with a happy smile. "I didn't know he could set himself on fire—I guess that's a trick somepony can only do once, uuuunless they happen to have a magical flame extinguisher nearby. Not that I'd need one of those!"

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"Harry!" My attention pulled to an orange blur that was rushing toward me. "Harry! I thought you'd—Well I saw you get out, but then things kinda went bad, and we—Percy?" The way the colt spoke put me in mind of just one person.

"Ron, your brother's a hero," I said and stepped to the side so Ron could get to Percy without stomping his way over me.

I had barely a moment to grin at the pair as they actually hugged before I was caught up by a lightning bolt of movement that grabbed me tight and coiled around me like—well—a snake. "You're alive!" Addera's voice held more emotion than I'd ever heard from her before. She sounded like she was almost crying. When I tried to look up to see if she was, all I could see was her jaw. "I was worried for you, Harry Potter."

Hedwig let out a soft whistle from where she'd landed when I'd gotten snake-hugged. There was a mix of indignation and happiness in the sound that made me giggle a little.

Was she really a familiar? What was a familiar, anyway? I'd have to check out the library when I get a chance—I'm sure Hermione will know where to look.

"Did we win?" I asked.

Pulling me back from the bone-crushing grip she'd held me in, Addera looked down at me through her magic glasses. "Of course we did, Harry Potter." I hadn't noticed it, what with everyone being all sparkly now, but Addera was too. It was odd to be able to see through her coils like they were stained-glass, but still feel them as flesh squeezing me.

"Let me guess, Sombra seems to be dead, but will come back years later looking for revenge on our kids?" Truth be told, I just wanted to go back to bed and hide under the covers for about a year. The teachers could deal with whatever else happened for the day, I could just— My train of thought derailed as something new occurred to me. "Hey, we won the game. That still counts, right?"

As it turned out, it did still count. The other prefects herded (ha ha) us all inside and up a convenient staircase that led back into Hogwarts and then into the great hall. We were an odd lot now. By far the most common of us looked completely like ponies, but could walk upright. There was a smattering of more human-like ponies, and another group of pure ponies—the latter group, I noticed, was mostly Slytherin.

One thing was for sure, I didn't feel out of place anymore. All around me was student ponies, both big and small, but none were as unique as Hermione. She hadn't changed any further, and still had not just had hands but also a horn.

When a white shape swooped into the room to join me on the Gryffindor table, no one seemed to notice. Everyone was too busy talking loudly—excitedly—about what had just happened. I reached a hoof up to rub Hedwig's cheek when Addera slithered over to make room for a colt about the same size as me. "Ron?"

"Yeah. Hi, Hermione, Addera. So, this all got kinda weird." Beside Ron, floating just at his shoulder, was his wand.

I snorted. "Remember when your brothers dumped that wolfs' boon potion in the water? I swear half the school had tails that hung around for a week. We're witches and wizards, Ron, and that means we eat weird for breakfast."

What I assumed was the teachers entered the hall from a side room. Snape was easy to make out from his horn and the cloak that he had somehow found to wrap himself in. McGonagall stood tall above Snape, her witch's hat the best marker. Hooch pranced, a dead give away for who she was if her wings weren't enough already. Then another pony walked in on two legs.

The new pony looked old, but still moved easily. He walked upright and bore a mane of gray hair. When he took a seat directly beside the headmaster's seat, I knew who it was—Dumbledore.

Another pony—walking on all fours—came out next. No wings and I couldn't see a horn from this distance. "Do you know who that is?" I asked.

Hermione pointed at them with a raised eyebrow. When I nodded, she said, "Not a clue. He looks proud of something, though."

McGonagall stepped up to the lectern and looked out over the sea of faces. "Well, we've had an exciting day—" she had to pause for the nervous laughs of half a thousand students, "—and there has been a few changes to Hogwarts. First and foremost, it seems like none of us has avoided our fate in this rampant transfiguration, but the good news is that we've established a pattern."

Clearing her throat, McGonagall gestured toward us. "Ms. Hermione Granger? Could you please come up here?"

Looking like a deer caught in headlights, Hermione looked at me, Ron, and then up to the front. She stood and clopped her way to the front of the room until she was standing near McGonagall.

"Mr. Ron Weasley, and I think Ms. Alicia Spinnet will serve as our last example. Please come up to the front." McGonagall's voice held no room for argument, not that anyone would try. Ron and Alicia walked up to the front to stand beside Hermione. "Now, Ms. Granger, please tell us what is the status of your blood?"

Everyone could hear Hermione's gasp. I expected her to be softly spoken about it, what with how much Malfoy had been ribbing her about it—or outright using it as a slur. "I'm muggle-born. That's it, isn't it? It's because—"

"Please, dear, wait until the end, but Gryffindor can have a point for your quick mind." McGonagall's tone was as warm as it got, but everyone knew Hermione was one of her favorites. "Ms. Spinnet, what is the status of your blood?"

"I'm half-blood, miss, just like half the students here—like you are." I could almost hear the smile in Alicia's voice that she was obviously wearing.

"Precisely. And Mr. Weasley, being of the prestigious house Weasley," McGonagall said with what sounded like I imagined a cat with a canary would sound like, "Is pure-blood. Isn't that right?"

Ron must have just nodded, because I couldn't really see him over the heads of all the ponies sitting upright at the Gryffindor table. That's when it hit me what she was getting it. Muggle-born. Half-blood. Pure-blood.

"This may come as a surprise to a few of you, but I believe something about how much 'wizard-blood' you have affects how much you've changed." McGonagall's confirmation of my thoughts lit a fire in the great hall.

Students were shouting, and I could see one—obviously a half-blood—gesturing over at the Slytherin table. "Told you! Told you my da was a wizard!" It was Dean! I laughed with happiness to see him confirmed in his beliefs.

But Slytherin table was composed. There was few half-bloods among them, and even fewer muggle-born. What they were was united, or so it seemed. I could make out that most weren't looking toward the front of the room, but to Gemma.

Gemma Farley looked like she'd been through a war and come out the other side. Her yellow, crystalline fur looked particularly scuffed and messed up in places, and her Slytherin-green mane was a mess, but there was a sense of power and control that poured off her. She looked toward me, and though I couldn't see her face, she nodded.

"Silence! Silence please!" McGonagall's voice was the only thing that could have gotten the room quiet again, backed as it was by amplification spells.

Ron, Hermione, and Alicia all departed the dais to come running back down to the Gryffindor table.

"While you all did splendidly in the—ah—battle, I would like to take this moment to commend several of you for going above and beyond what was required of you. Professor Dumbledore? Please join me."

"I believe I would be delighted, Headmistress." Dumbledore stood up and approached the lectern.

"You've been a mentor to so many generations of wizards and witches that none in the wizarding world are ignorant of your name, however few have seen you quite as I did earlier. Along with a group of brave students from Slytherin house and Hufflepuff house, you saved the lives of countless students and ponies. Though I'm glad to sing your praises, Albus, I know the ponies have their own ceremony planned later." McGonagall sounded close to tears, which was a shock. I'd never heard her with so much emotion in her voice before.

"Professor Snape?" McGonagall sounded a little more sober at Snape's name. "Please, come and stand beside me again."

"You're not going to allow this to slide, are you?" Snape asked, though he did stand up and walk up beside McGonagall.

"Of course not. Duelists who can translate their skills so readily to full combat are to be valued. I was glad to have you beside me." As soon as McGonagall spoke, Snape turned and walked back to his table. "Ms. Gemma Farley?"

A cheer rose from the Slytherin table. Gemma was as tall at the shoulders as Snape had been, and walked confidently toward the front of the room and made her way to stand before McGonagall.

"My dear, you proved today that within the ranks of Slytherin house lie some of Hogwarts' greatest. With leadership and drive, you supported Professor Dumbledore and—when he fell—took his place in defending your fellow students. Though we aren't able to administer N.E.W.T.s, I would not hesitate in passing you for your final year." McGonagall sounded as proud as her words implied. I'd not heard this much emotion from her before.

"I didn't do it alone." Gemma's voice wasn't caught by the spell McGonagall was using, but she spoke loud and clear enough that we heard her anyway. "I don't think there was a single student out there today that doesn't deserve to be up here too. House Slytherin, house Hufflepuff, you stood in defense of your fellow witches and wizards and accounted well of yourselves. House Ravenclaw, don't think I didn't see you loosing spells like fiends. House Gryffindor, who seems to be the best seekers on and off the quidditch pitch.

"If I had to pick out some names today, of fellows who were outstanding—" Gemma looked up at McGonagall, who just nodded to her, "—I'd have to choose Harry Potter, George Weasley, Eliza O'Leary, and Katie Bell. You stood up to a monster and ensured our fight meant something."

Gemma's words incited the school into a huge cheer. She'd literally made a shout-out to every house, and some of the most popular students in those houses. To be fair, I was cheering too. What Gemma said made sense, and she seemed happy to share the limelight.

She didn't wait to have further words. Gemma Farley left the dais to cheers and whoops of support from all four houses.

The doors of the great hall opened then, and the whole hall fell silent. McGonagall seemed quick to take advantage of everyone turning to see the ponies walking into the room. "Our new guests have arrived. I'd like to introduce you all to Princess Cadance, and Prince Captain Shining Armor."

Shining Armor, without his armor, was still a big pony, and Cadance beside him wasn't exactly small either. Together they dwarfed all the students and—when they reached the dais at the front of the room—the teachers too.

Ron looked almost ready to pronk in place. "You should have seen 'em, Harry. We'd got overrun and them 'elmet things put on our heads, but when I woke up it was with them blasting everyone free. Their magic is amazin'!"

Apparently, Ron wasn't the only one who thought that. When the two ponies turned around on the dais to face us, cheers went up from students in all four houses.

"Firstly, we couldn't have stopped Sombra without your help—all of you." Shining paused to let another cheer grow and die back down. "King Sombra had an army with him that we didn't anticipate, but you all not only held them off, you freed them from his control. You're all heroes."

Nervousness didn't begin to describe what Princess Mi Amore Cadenza—Cadance—felt. She'd just arrived from talking with the returned crystal ponies, and had been shocked to find them excited that she would be ruling them.

The issue there had been Cadance didn't know how to rule, didn't plan on ruling, and certainly didn't know how to accept their glowing (literally) admiration of her.

Clearing her throat went a long way toward quieting the room. The last thought Cadance had before opening her mouth was don't call them everypony. "Thank you, everyone.

"King Sombra is no more. The Crystal Heart has defeated him, and continues to spread its warmth to everypony—and everyone—throughout Equestria. Like Shining said, without working together, things would have gone very different today.

"So, in the spirit of the friendship we have forged today, I invite you all to remain here—in the Crystal Empire—for as long as you wish, though I expect you'll be attempting to return home?" Turning to look at Headmistress McGonagall, Cadance smiled hopefully.

Gemma Farley had been surprised at the turn of events. Her own little show had been essentially the icing on the cake as far as it came to getting the support of all the students of Hogwarts. That support was so in the bag now that she could ask a Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw, or a Hufflepuff for assistance and would get it without a question. With just one little speech this pony princess had both praised and laid claim to the land around Hogwarts, and no one seemed prepared to gainsay her.

What shocked Gemma most was that none of the teachers even tried. When all else seemed to be simply applauding the ponies, Gemma stepped forward. "I think it goes without saying that everyone here is thankful for the help, we'll be free of your crystal just as soon as we figure out how to move our castle, right headmistress?"

Knowing a white knight when she saw one, Minerva quickly moved over to stand at Gemma's side. "Absolutely correct, Gemma." Relief flooded in quickly that her student had managed to find the words she'd been too shocked to deliver. They had required her, however, to put Gemma Farley on a more adult pedestal than she otherwise would like a Slytherin student being. "We at Hogwarts gratefully accept your invitation, though I hope that we won't have to be an imposition for too long."

Cadance breathed a tiny sigh of relief. She hadn't expected to need to use her training in diplomacy, but finding the Crystal Empire beset by an ancient enemy and a huge quantity of school students (and their teachers) had been one problem too many, now she had a former nation of citizens who'd all looked at her as if she should lead them. "You won't be an imposition, but perhaps we should discuss this later—Your students look like they're ready for a party, and who could blame them."

Gemma's mind raced to find meaning behind the words. She could immediately tell that the princess likely had things she didn't want to discuss in front of students, and the need to find out that information ate at Gemma. When the ponies both began walking back down the hall, Gemma turned to look at Minerva.

"Thank you, Gemma, that was most appreciated. I worry about our tenuous position in more ways than just the fact that Hogwarts is now dozens of feet higher than it should be." It was a gamble, but Minerva felt being honest with Gemma was a fair payment for her assistance. "An extra set of ears—and what lives between them—would be appreciated in future discussions."

It would have been harder for Gemma to be more happy. "Of course, Headmis—"

"Please, dear, just call me Minerva."

With the noise of five hundred plus students all trying to talk over each other, Gemma Farley felt like she'd just been confirmed. "Of course, Minerva."

By the time Minerva had her seat again, she was feeling a little more comfortable with the situation. The prefects were talking with their houses and arranging their departure, and she was left with her old mentor to talk with. "You're going to tell me you told me so, even when you didn't."

"The thought had never crossed my mind, Minerva." Albus Dumbledore hadn't felt as vital—especially after a prolonged usage of magic—in nearly fifty years. "Young Ms. Farley has a good head about her." He left the words to hang as an open hook that Minerva could use to unburden herself.

"Her actions throughout all this has been one of the brighter points of the day. She put herself on the line for you, Albus. That's not something I'll quickly forget." Looking down at the hooves her hands had become, Minerva distracted herself from brooding only by thinking that everyone in the school would likely want to attend Harry Potter's class now. "I'm not convinced they are attempting to bind us with words—they're a nation, what need they have for such a school as ours I have no idea—but should it come to pass they are, I'd have someone with as sharp a mind as hers on my side."

Albus just nodded with his warmest smile, all the while picturing himself having to make the same choices. "Probably the best course. That girl has ambition and talent."

"Your advice is always welcome, Albus. I'll not forget that while we both often lack the tact needed for political dealings, your mind was always a step ahead when it came to tactics."

"Sometimes, Minerva, I believe you overstate my abilities. I'm just one old man."

"Albus!" Minerva McGonagall actually broke into a smile. "You are never just an old man."

"… and every day he looks worse. I've got no idea what Mad-Eye is doin' to him, but I shudder to think what will be left of the half giant by the time he's got all his answers."

Archibald Burns ignored the punctuating spit the guard took to the side, but the words he'd spoken were a worry. Inmates left Azkaban in only two ways: they got released by the Ministry, or the Dementors got excited. The prospect of an Auror (even one as famous as Alastor Moody) ending someone within the prison was not a pleasant one, but at least it wouldn't be his fault. "Mind your words. He's doing his job, lads, just like we are."

"Yeah, but—"

The guard's words cut short as the door opened and disgorged a mountain of a man onto the cold stone floor of Azkaban. The house elf of the prison, Toil, rushed up and heaved Rubeus Hagrid onto one shoulder. It should have been a comical sight, but it only reinforced how dreadful the place could be to a wizard.

Alastor Mad-Eye Moody stepped out of the interrogation room with a rolling gait. He watched as Rubeus was dragged away, then turned to look at Archibald. "Next one I wanna see is that Sirius Black. It's about time I knew the full truth of that man's misdeeds." He started to turn back to the room, then paused. "And best leave that-un to himself with as much food as he can get down, if you want him to remain an inmate."

"Y-Yes sir." Archibald turned to one of his guards. "Organize a detail to bring Sirius Black to the Auror. Now!"

"Extra rations and a free ride back to your cell. Lucky is what you is," Toil said from under Rubeus. "Talk, talk, talk! Guards don't want to be near you—won't hear."

"Well I might 's well walk then." Rubeus reached to the side and pressed one huge hand against the floor and pushed himself upright. He couldn't keep a smile from his lips as he started walking back to his cell. "I'd've never-a thought of this."

"I like this auror. He thinks like a house-elf." Toil was happy to not be carrying a half-giant anymore. "Actually, not a big compliment. Most house-elves are idiots. He thinks more like me."

"An' that's a compliment?"

"Of course! It's the best compliment!"

Sirius Black was busy putting on his best Azkaban Insane Inmate look. When the guards opened his cell door, he snapped his teeth at them and laughed riotously when they jerked back.

"This one's almost done in by the place, I reckon. Ain't been here twenty or so years an' he's already had one hug too many from a Dementor."

"What's it matter? Mad-Eye'll have his time, take his pound, and leave us a mess to clean up. Get that chain."

"Yeah, yeah."

Playing his part as always, Sirius focused on the thought of what was coming. Mad-Eye Moody. While the guards pulled the chains in opposite directions—so that he was unable to reach either—Sirius thought of what he'd say to Moody.

The walk through Azkaban was not pleasant for any of the three. The two guards were as enthusiastic about leading Sirius Black anywhere as your average upper-middle housewife was about dealing with her husband's indiscretions, but it was their job and they eventually got the "raving maniac" to the room.

"Send him in," Alastor said from within.

Sirius charged into the room, yanking hard on the chains and almost pulling the guards holding them off their feet. They let go and slammed the door behind him. Having tumbled into a heap on the floor, Sirius looked up to find a hand thrust toward him. "Don't think I need a hand up, old man."

"I'm of half a mind to leave you here, boy. If it weren't for information about Hogwarts, I would. I've listened to all Rubeus had to say, now give me your story. Start from the beginning." Alastor's hand hovered around his hip—though he hadn't drawn his wand, he was prepared to produce it as needed. "And make a bit of noise, if you don't scream at least a bit, they won't think I'm all that."

"You'll listen to me? And if you believe me, will you see me free?" Sirius was cautious, despite everything Toil had told him about Rubeus' time with Alastor.

"If you can prove to me that you didn't turn your back on the order and join Voldemort, I'll do what I can for you, boy." Alastor circled around to the other side of the bolted-down table. Despite being deep within the fortress, moisture still clung to everything so that sitting down was its own kind of peril. "Now, out with it."

"It was all my fault." The words were—first and foremost—the most true Sirius would ever speak. "I thought it was the perfect plan to avoid betraying James, Lily, and little Harry. The great bait-and-switch. We swapped Secret-Keeper at the last minute and used Peter Pettigrew instead. I thought he'd be perfect—no one would suspect he held the key to finding them."

Peter Pettigrew was growing tired of the screaming in his head. He ran and ran to hide from the ponies that seemed to be everywhere since the huge fight ended, and finally managed to go to ground when the screaming stopped. "Are you done, m-master?"

It had all been for nothing. Ginevra Weasley clung to her lifeline that was the only part of Sombra that remained. It was like a cooling coal of warmth in an ice-cold blizzard, but it was all she had, so she wrapped herself around it like a blanket. 'We can't stay here. They'll find us.'

Peripherally aware of Peter moving again, Ginevra focused on the fractured piece of Sombra's soul. 'What am I supposed to do? I saw them defeat you, how are you still here?'

Horcrux. Safety. Take us home.

The words were so soft that Ginevra commanded Peter to stop where he was so she could hear them better. 'Home?'

Your home. My power is there. Take me home.

Along with the word—the thought—had come knowledge. A spell that would use a lot of power settled into Ginevra's mind, was instantly and completely understood by her, and was ready to cast. She just needed a supply of power to fuel it.

It was more magic than Ginevra had commanded, more even than she could feel Peter possessed. 'Find me more power.'

"More power, she says. Oh, sure, let me just find you more power laying around in a—" Peter froze. The crystalline building he'd been sneaking through was more than just a home or a schoolhouse. Pulsing, growing in the center of the building that had once been a magic scholar's research lab, Peter Pettigrew found a huge chunk of—

Crystal.

'There. What's that?' Ginevra looked through Peter's eyes as he neared the giant shard of worked crystal. It was smooth, nearly twice as tall as Peter was long, and thrummed with magic. More magic than she'd need for the spell, but that wasn't important. 'Touch it. Channel it into me.'

"It feels like fire. I-I—" Peter was trying desperately to tell his mistress that there was a good chance the crystal would kill him, but the compulsion she'd laid upon him was more power than even his self-preservation instinct.

Slowly, lifting one hoof up, Peter Pettigrew touched the giant crystal.

A rush of magic poured into Ginevra. The power flooded her, restoring much what she'd lost in the explosion of the Crystal Heart, but it didn't feed her as Sombra's soul did. 'I have the power. I'll cast the spell.'

A short duration hole between one reality and the next would suffice. Ginevra Wesley had access to more power than that needed, however, and rather than a little portal that would last a few minutes, she ripped a hole between worlds and blasted her destination with magic.

Yes. Good.

While the hole grew larger and more accommodating, more magic attuned to the giant crystal poured through. It resonated and like called to like. Ginevra didn't realize, even as she commanded Peter to step through the portal, but shards of Equestrian crystal scattered around Earth all began to tremble and resonate with the magic she'd cast.

Peter was terrified. He'd never worked magic—felt magic—on this level before. There was a hurricane of magical potential swirling around his neck, and he was terrified beyond his dreams that it was his mistress who commanded it. Terrified, and delighted.

"We need to run," Peter said as he stepped all four hooves onto the Scottish highlands, "The Ministry will know of this and will be here very soon. If you let me use some power, I can apparate us."

'Where?' Ginevra asked.

What remained of King Sombra didn't tell her, he sent her the exact destination right into her thoughts.

He has the key to my magic. Kill him and I will be free to regrow.

Ginevra Weasley wasted no time passing the destination to Peter.

Author's Notes:

Hedwig: What are your thoughts on the recent events since arriving in this new world? Do you like it better then England?

Just a month earlier there wouldn't have been enough of the ritual, nor enough raw magic, to have finished the first step of binding. As it was, the owl known as Hedwig had begun to see things with greater clarity. Lacking words, all she had were thoughts—though the closer she was to Harry Potter, the clearer they were.

'I like this new place, it has bacon and rats.' Was her first thought. 'Other place had bacon and rats too, more rats than here.'

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The Calm After the Storm

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Dumbledore, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick walked down into the rows of tables, each headed for their houses.

At closer range, Dumbledore looked like his robe was made for someone far taller (which it was), and still sported a small beard (though it was nothing compared to what he'd had as a human.

I noticed Flitwick was shorter still than Dumbledore, but stood upright like him. Our Charms class teacher lacked hands, but sported a horn!

Sprout walked on two legs too, and like Dumbledore and Flitwick had no hands. She also looked like she'd lost girth along with height, but she still had plenty of the former compared to most ponies.

"Come on, everyone, off to our tower. Percy, I'd appreciate your assistance," Dumbledore said, sounding more vital than I'd ever heard him before.

Percy shook his head and looked up at Dumbledore. "Yes, sir." He jumped to his hooves and looked like all the weariness of the fight we'd just been through was gone. "Alright, everyone, you heard Professor Dumbledore, and you all know the way."

"Does Percy sound different to you?" I asked Ron. "Only, he seems to be more—well—alive than he was earlier."

Ron looked at me like I was crazy. "Was he dead earlier?"

"No, Ron," Hermione said—towering above us, "Harry means he looks more vital than—" She halted when something very odd happened.

A hornless/wingless girl—standing upright but without hands—rushed over, dropped to all fours before Percy, and kissed him. She had a blonde mane with a brown coat, and seemed overly excited. With a laugh that sounded more like a horse neighing than anything I'd expected to hear out of a student that wasn't in Transfiguration class, she rushed back to her own house—Ravenclaw.

"Well that confirms that our Percy's got the same feelin's." George strutted up beside us, showing off how well he managed to walk on all fours now. "Penelope Clearwater. Not a bad sort, from what I've heard of her. Lookit 'im blush!"

My eyesight might be bad, but I could see Percy blushing past the fur of his face. We'd barely gotten out the doors—with Slytherin in front of us—when we heard a shout of surprise.

"Where's the stairs?!"

"What happened to our dungeon?!"

"Where's the basement?!"

"Oi! Calm down! Let's check downstairs."

Snape pushed his way past all his students by way of being bigger than them. "Excellent observation, Mr. Bole. Five points to Slytherin."

Being a half-blind kirin, even at the side of the Gryffindor group, made it hard to work out what exactly happened, though their shouting gave me some idea. And it was obvious, now I thought about it, but it meant the castle was literally cut in half by the crystal bit—assuming Hogwarts still had its basements and dungeons.

"What's so funny, Harry Potter?" Addera slithered up beside me and picked me up. The added height of her position let me see… practically nothing more than I could from the ground.

"Imagine if the crystal filled in the dungeon," I said.

There was a feeling of excitement all along the way back to the Gryffindor common room. Most of us were a mix of pony/human shapes, but we had our own share of pure pony students—the Weasleys being the majority of them.

When we all piled into the common room, Fred and George found their usual spot on a couch, but I noticed a pony sitting beside Fred with white fur and a soft pink mane.

"That's Alicia. She's been like that since the big fight," Ron said beside me. "They ain't half close, ya think?"

Before I could reply, Katie Bell jumped up beside us. "Is this where we gossip about the rest of the team? I'm in. So, Fred and Alicia are old news. They've been hiding behind every corner Hogwarts has since before all this started. The real news is George and Eliza. Did you see 'em looking at each other in the great hall?"

"That was the Ravenclaw with wings?" Ron asked.

"Bingo! I bet George sneaks off after this to meet her somewhere before dinner." Katie rolled her shoulders. "Wish I'd gotten wings. Do you think they're just slow to grow in?"

Back home on Privet Drive, this wouldn't have flown at all. Wanting to have wings, a horn, be able to fly, a different colored tail—My brain shorted out as I realized the bad pun I'd inadvertently made. "I don't think much of anything in advance anymore. It tends not to work out so well. Besides, we might not even be ponies in a week."

Hermione surprised me by gasping louder than Katie. "But I've barely begun experimenting with my horn!"

"I for one rather like my new shape. Apart from the urge to devour all the Slytherin students, which isn't unique to this form, I quite enjoy being able to speak." Addera slithered up beside the couch and coiled herself up.

"I concur, though it would be good to be able to hold a wand." Dumbledore's voice surprised us all into silence. Everyone turned their attention to him. "Miss Addera, would you mind giving us all a class on the subject right now?"

It was a nice way to wind down after the panic of a battle, and little by little everyone (who needed to) got the hang of using their hooves to hold things—except me. My hooves were built different to the others, but it wasn't a major problem for me since I had my horn.

Hermione, too, looked a little smug at her retaining her hands, and it looked like there was a fair few others in Gryffindor similarly retaining their hands. One who—despite my cruddy eyesight—looked on top of the world, was Dean. He still had his mop of dark hair, below which was a huge smile plastered on his brown-furred face. Every few minutes I could hear him giggle and say, "Half-blood" with complete joy.

They were all pretty excited and upbeat despite being stuck (for now) as ponies. We'd won a quidditch game, a war, and we could all use our magic again freely. It was more, though. All around the common room people were struggling to work magic—holding wands seemed to be the biggest issue—as if they were learning it all over again.

"Everyone's having fun. How are you after your grand deception?" Dumbledore's soft voice somehow cut through the noise of over two hundred Gryffindors talking.

"Honestly? A little surprised it worked and no one got hurt." In my mind I ruled out turned everyone into ponies as not being injury so much as wizardry. "Well, I got hurt, but whatever that magic was the Heart did healed me."

"Remarkable. Tell me, what do you know about healing magic?" Dumbledore seemed to have engaged teacher mode on me.

It wasn't terribly hard to put together an answer. "We haven't gotten to it yet, but—"

"Healing magic?" Ron seemed to appear out of nowhere and climb up on the couch beside me. He had a cardboard tube stuck to his forehead with tape. "Percy said Charlie's old wand was really good at healing magic. Something about it being willow to its core."

"Indeed!" Despite the interruption, Dumbledore seemed more than happy to go along with the supplied information. "Willow is the best wood for a wand made to perform healing magic, and that wand of yours is willow through and through. But what I wanted to get to was that healing magic has two main fields.

"Guided healing magic requires a trained will behind it that knows the body intrinsically. The slightest mistake with it and you'll be doing irreparable damage.

"Accelerating healing magic works to aid the body in correcting things that are wrong. Bodies are quite good at fixing themselves, and all it does is make them better at it."

"Which one is better?" I asked.

"Neither. Both have their uses and both have disadvantages. You don't want to accelerate healing when there's a dirty wound, and you don't want to use guided healing." There was something bizarre about how—well—cute Dumbledore looked. There was just no other word for it. Ponies were inherently cute.

Ron seemed more interested than ever. "Then what about phoenix tears? How do those work when they can cure anything?" The question was a good one.

"Phoenix tears are shed solely at the discretion of their owner. If they were just guided healing, they wouldn't work if bottled, yet they do. If they were just accelerated, why, they wouldn't work on things such as basilisk venom." We both got a significant look from Dumbledore that had nothing to do with the lesson being taught. I figured out what I thought he meant—Addera was as much a danger as the other teachers had thought if her venom had a ready antidote.

"So what are they?" I asked.

"Why, they're magic." For almost twenty seconds Dumbledore held the same bright smile that I knew him well enough to know was him enjoying a good joke. "Near as anyone can tell, the phoenix themselves imbue their will into their tears. Some magic is just magic.

"There was somewhat more I wanted to discuss with you, Harry. We don't seem to have a way home at the moment, which gives us all a little time to ourselves."

I looked over to Ron, but he shrugged at me. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Your new form, Harry, can't have been an accident. Wizarding blood is in all of us, but all it took was a nudge for you—and professor Snape—to be quite different. While Percy suffered from a similar change, we know there are ponies just like him in this world."

"One of the Ravenclaw students called me a kirin. He—she—seemed to know something about them. Maybe I should ask her what she knows?" Digging around in my memory of the last few days, I tried to remember her name.

"Luna Lovegood, I think it was," Ron said. "But what about the ponies? Wouldn't they know if there were other creatures like Harry?"

"People, Ron. We gotta think of everyone—" I grinned, "—and everypony, as people. People like us. I'll try to find Flagessio and Keen tomorrow."

"Well, it sounds like you have it all under control then." Standing up, Dumbledore slid off the couch and onto just two legs. He stood easily, despite his body resembling a quadrupedal pony in every other way. "Oh, and professor Snape said he'd make another pair of glasses for you, Harry."

"Dinner in twenty minutes!" someone called.

Gemma Farley should have been with the others of house Slytherin, trying to find Slytherin's dungeon. Instead of running around with a bunch of ponies that already looked up to her and considered her their leader, she was being that leader. Sitting across from her was Prince Shining Armor, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and Twilight Sparkle.

Smiling as she looked aside to Gemma, Minerva McGonagall felt more herself than the entirety of the previous week. "You'll have to excuse things being a little hectic here. It's safe to say this is the first time Hogwarts Castle has been in quite this situation, though it is gracious of you to meet us." The words had been cooked up between her and Gemma.

"I don't think anypony could have predicted all this from happening." Twilight smiled aside to Cadance and her brother. "I wanted to give you my report on what I've learned about the Crystal Heart and the magic it released.

"Nothing! It's maddening! Any spell or magic I try to use to examine it, it sucks up and sends it skyward!" With her hair frizzing a little, Twilight held her head in her hooves. "I'm supposed to be the one here to examine these things, but I can't do anything and it just keeps turning and—"

Shining Armor banged a hoof loudly on the table to get his little sister's attention. He knew from experience that it would take more than just one sense getting a jolt to pull Twilight Sparkle out of a freak-out. "Twily, relax. We should have plenty of time to examine it now that Sombra is gone."

"About the artifact," Gemma said to pull the conversation back to one of the paths she'd planned for. "We are quite willing to allow you to use it while we arrange for our return, but—"

Cutting in, Cadance could see where Gemma was going with her speech, and wanted to make some things clear. "The Crystal Heart is an ancient artifact belonging to the Crystal Empire. This event was expected, and while we don't know why you were pulled along as well, this land and the Crystal Heart are of Equestrian origin."

Minerva saw that Gemma would chase down each little part of their plan until they had all the chips. "Correct. Which makes the castle—Hogwarts—ours." She couldn't help a sigh. "You'll forgive me, but politics are not my strong suit. We are teachers and students, not governors."

"Well, at least one of us seems good at this kind of thing." Cadance looked significantly at Gemma. "Let me tell you the story, as Princess Celestia told it to me.

"A thousand years ago Sombra took over the Crystal Empire. The crystal ponies fought him, but while some managed to escape his notice and free some of their friends, a lot—you saw them outside—were caught and subjected to Sombra's control.

"Before he could march out with his army of slaves, two ponies arrived: Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Their fight was swift—they defeated him. Sombra was left bodiless and retreated to the heart of the Crystal Empire. In the huge castle there, he triggered some kind of powerful magic, and the whole empire vanished."

"He brought it to Earth? No, that doesn't make sense." Minerva shook her head. She remembered the history of Hogwarts quite well. "Hogwarts was built exactly a thousand years ago, so it couldn't be the same—"

Twilight cleared her throat and jumped in excitedly. "Actually, while it's only a theory, dimensional time-slip would account for that. Normally it would be hard to even notice, but if time in your world was running even the slightest bit faster than time here, that would result in there being years of difference. The Crystal Empire could have been there for a hundred years already." When she realized everyone was staring at her, Twilight blinked in confusion. "What? It makes sense."

"You're a scholar, Miss Sparkle?" Minerva had absorbed the information, but one thing she recognized in Twilight was a kindred spirit.

"Twilight's the scholar. She trained at Princess Celestia's school, and needed to be ejected forcefully before she took over." Shining wasn't sure what about Twilight had done it, but the tension in the room was broken and he no longer felt the need to put up a forcefield and flee.

"So this is the Crystal Empire, but—" Stopping herself, Minerva thought about the situation. "What do you think would be the longest period the Crystal Empire could have been on Earth?" She was looking to Twilight for her answer.

"Uh. That depends on the time slip. It could be as little as one percent and you'd still have ten years," Twilight said.

"What, my dear, if it were larger. Much larger." Holding up her right forearm, Minerva flexed her wrist joint and titled her hoof around. "My first thought was the proximity to Hogwarts and the Heart caused this, but what if it goes back further?"

"The renegade crystal ponies?" Gemma was fast off the mark. "But they—That would mean—" She giggled, snorted, and Gemma Farley broke into a gale of laughter.

"Those renegades are our ancestors. Wizard blood will out, I guess." Minerva joined Gemma in a small chuckle herself. "I'm not sure how they did it, but it adds up, and would go a long way toward explaining why those of us transfigured into partial ponies."

Shining wasn't an egg-head like his little sister, and he didn't have all the lessons on statecraft his wife had, but he could follow logic and conclusions well enough. "That makes this easy, then. You're all descendants of those crystal ponies, so you're already citizens of the Crystal Empire and Equestria."

"That still doesn't resolve the state of ownership of Hogwarts." Despite her mirth, Gemma felt compelled to resolve the matter at hand—or hoof as the case may be.

"The best solution, I believe, is to take the lead of the castle itself. Gray stone and basements are yours, crystal—except for the stairwell between the two sections of your castle, and an entrance—is our castle." Cadance studied the two ponies facing her. One of them was a young mare perhaps a little younger than Twilight's age, the other was an aged mare with a penchant toward walking on her back legs, but they were definitely crystal ponies. "If we have the right of this, and Hogwarts and its grounds literally are the Crystal Empire, then you're going to have to face the fact that you may not be able to take Hogwarts with you."

Draco Malfoy was panicking. She'd only slipped away from the main group of Slytherin students by letting Lucian know who she was, to which the big prefect had grinned. A shudder ran through her body at memory of that grin—Lucian was a BIG pony, and Draco was sure she'd be paying some price to him before the week was out.

"No, you stupid room, I want male pony clothing!" She slammed the wardrobe door closed on the dresses within it and then used the same hoof to open it again. Gritting her teeth, she examined the double-breasted dinner jackets and shirts. "Where's the pants? This can't be all ponies wear! More!"

Once again she slammed the door closed, and once again opened it to dresses. Slowly, Draco's legs buckled and she flopped to her belly on the floor. Tears came. "Why am I crying?! It's just a stupid magic wardrobe!"

She wanted it to halt, for everything to go back to normal, but the more Draco wished for her old body back, the harder she cried.

Slowly, eventually, the tears began to slow. Draco felt the emotions of the day and of the whole last week feel washed out and drained of their color. Laying on her belly on the floor, her forehooves over her face and her wings spread out to each side, Draco Malfoy felt empty.

"Stupid horses." She wiped at her nose and face with the fur just above each hoof. "How am I going to tell my father?" The urge to cry came, but bereft of tears, she couldn't summon the fortitude to get upset any longer. "Okay, so I can't pass for a guy anymore. What—" Draco snorted a veritable host of boogers up her nose, or so it sounded, "—else is there?"

Gritting her teeth, Draco carefully closed the doors and opened them again. The clothing wasn't what she would term male clothing, but they were sensible robes adapted to a pony body. That there was a dress under them didn't fail to make her cringe, but it was better than everyone seeing her for what she was—Draco Malfoy the girl. In this, she reasoned, she would just be another anonymous member of Slytherin house.

She turned and stared at herself in the mirror, and a little winged horse stared back. Her hair had become her coat color: silvery-white, and she sported a mane and tail of charcoal. The new limbs she sported sprouted from her shoulders—she spread one and then the other.

Draco actually smiled, then laughed. Flying had been one of the few things in her life that she could truly just enjoy. With wings, she figured she'd be doing a lot more of that. Lifting her wings up, she pushed down with them and was excited when her hooves bounced off the floor.

"Is there somewhere I could—" Draco bit off the words. "I want somewhere I can practice flying!"

There was no clunk—no sound of stone shifting or the castle moving, but Draco watched as what had been a wall shifted and twisted, and a doorway appeared with a wooden door sized just for her. Biting back a thank you, Draco approached the door and opened it.

Laughter was an odd thing for Draco. She normally gained happiness when others were failing at something, but this was different. The door opened into a chamber that was probably bigger than Hogwarts itself. She couldn't see any floor, walls, or a ceiling far above. What was funny was that the door immediately opened out into that void.

"You know what? I'll take this dare." Without having done any flying before her cautious flap moments ago, Draco jumped forward and began falling, and falling, and even screaming.

What was a surprise to Draco was that the door flew past her, then again. It dawned on her that there was no floor and no ceiling, and with that information she laughed. "This is perfect!"

Spreading her wings, Draco began to tumble more than fall. It took a few long minutes of practice before she worked out how to balance on her wings, but once she did she began to glide.

This time the doorway back drifted past almost lazily. Draco knew she was still falling, but now she was in control of it—kinda. Draco practiced tilting her wings left or right, but while it worked, there was more to it than that. She could feel her feathers moving individually, and felt along her wings with her mind—much as all students were trained to do when transfigured—and felt for a myriad of muscles there.

The first time Draco twitched those feather-muscles, it was like cutting the strings of a marionette. Her wings stopped cupping air and she began to plummet. Setting the muscles again, and spreading her wings to cup the air, stopped her fall.

She twitched those muscles again, and once more her wings just didn't hold her, but she quickly set them back. "Okay, this time let's do this properly." Jerking her wings upward, Draco flexed the muscles of her feathers and, at the peak of her stroke, set them back and pumped down hard.

Draco was working on her flapping when movement at the doorway (that she was flying up to) caught her attention.

"Oi! Dinner's in five, Draco!" Lucian Bole followed Draco Malfoy with his eyes, watching her flap and fly about in nothing. The sight made Lucian smile a little at how perfect it seemed. When Draco turned toward him and started flying closer, Lucian almost didn't get out of the way in time.

Having worked out the basics of flying, Draco was still short of one important piece of practice—landing. Tucking her wings in at the last second, she came through the door and slid on all fours across the room before hitting the wall on the other side with a thump, then collapsed onto the floor.

Draco was stunned when a big, crystalline dirty-yellow hoof was thrust toward her. Gingerly she took the hoof, and Lucian hauled Draco to her hooves. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. We 'ad a deal, remember? What've you got in that closet of yours to fit a 'andsome stallion?" The changes—indeed the entire situation of being able to be a pretty pony without risking his reputation—tickled Lucian Bole as pink as his mane and tail were.

"When'd you work out I was—"

"A girl? Well, when news went around the prefects that a few others had changed, and I remembered you'd probably gotten a boost to school from a younger age, and you actin' all cagey about lettin' me see your tail—It was kinda obvious. I might look like an idiot, I might sound like an idiot, and I might even 'it like an idiot, but I'm not the dimmest candle in the room."

Snorting, Draco started walking over to the closet while trying to fold her wings to her sides—the feathers just didn't sit right, however.

"You gotta preen 'em. Feathers. Seen birds do it, and in Care of Magical Creatures, we watched some critters do it. Not too many pegasi in the school. You wanna talk to Hooch or that pony that's been teachin' her." Lucian watched Draco walk with keen interest.

Not unaware of the look she was getting, Draco stopped at the doors of the closet. "What?"

"I've got your secret, I guess giving you mine is checks out. Mutually assured embarrassment an' all that. I like ponies. Me mum was expectin' a girl—all the signs pointed to 'er havin' a daughter. She 'ad all my clothes picked out, toys too. She didn't give 'em to me, but I found the old boxes of things." Without meaning to, Lucian danced on all four hooves in excitement. "And now I get to be a pretty pony!"

Draco Malfoy was speechless. She stared at the blissful bruiser for a few seconds and then blew a little sigh. "If I laugh, or tell anyone else, I'll be beaten into last year, won't I?"

"An' then some."

Realization dawned on Draco, and she figured out what was going on. Lucian just wanted to tell somebody. The stuff about secrets was a load of owl poop. "My secret is a little harder to hide. It's not like it'll be a secret much longer."

Lucian smiled in a way he—at least from what he could see in the mirrors of the wardrobe Draco was beside—thought was softer and nicer than before. "You think if you stand by my side and announce it, anyone'd dare say a word against you?"

Using her wings to close the closet doors, Draco nodded. "Potter would, and his friends."

"Then we make Farley stand on the other side o' ya."

"Ask her, you mean?"

"No, Draco, make 'er. Farley wouldn't respect either of us if we asked her a favor without making it seem like her own idea. She' all 'igh and mighty with the headmistress, but it's Slytherin she owes her loyalty to, first an' foremost. Now, what can you do wif that thing?" Lucian nodded at the wardrobe.

"A boys and a girls uniform to fit me and Lucian," Draco said. "And I don't want a small male uniform and a female one for Lucian, I don't want human ones, and I don't want uniforms for—for the police. I want two student uniforms for Hogwarts sized and suited to us!"

"You really need t' say all that?" Lucian asked.

"You. Wouldn't. Believe." Closing the doors, Draco pulled them open again and actually smiled. On two hangers were a set of robes, a dress, and a sharp looking shirt and blazer for each of them. Draco was reaching for hers when Lucian touched her shoulder. "What?"

"Go and wash your face. You've been cryin'."

Looking into the mirror, Draco saw exactly what Lucian meant. Runnels of wetness had dried on her cheeks to form lines in her fur. "Thanks."

By the time Draco returned, Lucian was pulling his robe over his back and settling it on his shoulders. "What do you think?"

Seeing the big colt with bright pink mane and tail poking out of the austere uniform made Draco snort. "You look like a pretty pony wearing a school uniform."

"Brilliant!"

"They didn't see us—me." Peter Pettigrew hid inside a bush. He hated how the thorns seemed to snag on his mane and tail, but it was better than getting caught by the wizards and witches now approaching the portal his mistress had ripped between the worlds.

The power of Ginevra Weasley burned at the amulet around his neck. It was too tight to remove—not that he wanted to now. The darkness she wielded, that she seemed capable of manipulating, left his last master a pale imitation. That both of them lacked bodies was a wash so far as he was concerned.

But there was something more about Ginevra that excited Peter—her master. He'd been power incarnate, and it was intoxicating to him to just be around the pair. "What do you want me to do?"

'Tell him we seek his old master.'

Ginevra gasped at the mental contact. 'You're still there? His master was killed, He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named.'

'He lives yet. The mark your beast still bears pulls him. Simply have him lead us there.'

'Are we going to—to kill him?'

'Yesss.'

That prospect, defeating He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, excited Ginevra. She didn't have a body, she didn't have the face to smile or feet to dance with anticipation, but there was nothing so right, that felt as good to conceive of, than to end—Voldemort. 'Find Voldemort. Find him for me.'

Peter's knees began to wobble, and his eyes widened with absolute fear. "Th-There's plenty of places in the world. Why go to the same one he's in? I hear Australia is nice this time of year. We could go there and—"

'Find Voldemort!' Ginevra's thoughts swirled with anger at being questioned.

The command had Peter's hooves moving. He pulled himself out of the bush and focused on the mark on his arm. The sensation—the feeling he got—wouldn't have worked unless his old master wished it to. Joy leapt around inside Peter. "He's this way. This way!" A normal walk wasn't enough, nor a trot—Peter Pettigrew galloped.

Author's Notes:

Snape: If you still don't change back to human even you make it back to human world, will you consider moving to Equestria instead?

A slight tick started over Severus' right eye before quelling itself after just three bounces. "I have dedicated myself to teaching. Despite my current situation, I can continue to teach Potions perfectly fine." He looked angry, which was the normal resting-Snape-face, but right now there seemed a slight sour twist to his lips.

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Lab

The End (Of a Day)

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Dinner was quiet—as quiet as dinner ever is at Hogwarts—with the food serving double duty of silencing students and filling us. I still thought about what Dumbledore had said, while using magic to cut up my dinner and shovel it into my mouth.

Given the day I'd had, I doubt I'd need to get any anger out before bed, but tomorrow I would, and every day after that. Chewing on a Yorkshire pudding, I looked—really looked—at the little wooden case beside me. It was empty now only because I had glasses again. Snape had used magic to set them on the table beside me when dinner started.

It was great to be able to see. All the colors of ponies around the room were amazing. It was like someone had painted Hogwarts with a rainbow brush. Or at least Slytherin was. Everyone's arms, of course, were exposed, but the almost-pony types still managed to wear their uniforms, as did the half-n-halfs (like Hermione) who still had their height too. But anyone walking on all fours was unable to get clothing that fit that didn't look like a sack draped over a dog. Except for two.

A colt (what Hermione assured me was the name for a small male horse) and a filly (again, Hermione with all the answers) sat beside each other on the Slytherin table wearing uniforms. They weren't just student uniforms, they were student uniforms that fit two little ponies perfectly.

The colt had a yellowish face with light pink mane, and the filly had a silvery face with a grayish mane. Both looked about as smug as could be.

"Harry Potter? Who are you staring at?" Addera asked, breaking me out of my contemplation.

"Two Slytherin ponies. They have really fancy uniforms that fit them and everything." I gestured at them with my fork—held by a Locomotion charm. "Maybe they know some kind of clothing magic?"

The filly noticed my look and smiled widely. She looked me right in the eyes and I felt a chill of recognition—I knew this pony. I knew who she was down to the deepest parts of my soul, but I couldn't put a name to her. This was going to be one of those things that eats away at you until you solve it.

Was she someone I'd met among the first year students? I studied her face as she studied mine, and thought that she looked quite pretty for a pony.

Gemma stole all my attention as she walked into the hall late. She made her way along the Slytherin table until she sat down right beside that filly. A first year student flanked by a seventh year and what looks like (I couldn't work out who the colt was) another seventh year.

Addera made what I had to admit was the happiest sounding hiss I'd ever heard from a snake. "These sausages are rather good today. I wonder how many ponies will be eating meat now?"

"Well, you've still got me and Snape, but I bet there's a lot more pork sausages for you now. Look at what everyone's eating." I had my knife and fork work together to cut up a piece of the toad in the hole on my plate, getting a good piece of sausage with it. "Salads and vegetables, but no meat. I wonder if we could have another sausage-eating contest now?"

"I would win this one. I could have won the last one, Harry Potter, if it wasn't a better idea to lose." Pouring gravy from the boat we shared, Addera doused a pork sausage with it and then cut it in half with a knife. The sausage was soon lost to sight in her mouth.

It was hard not to smile at Addera's simple snake bit. She was a lot smarter than she let on, and I know she enjoyed being challenged. "I need to find out more about kirin. Losing my temper all the time is, honestly, the worst. So I want to find out more about it. I need to talk to Hermione and Snape."

Gulping down her sausage, Addera shivered but had a big grin on her face. "Why do you have to bring him up, Harry Potter?"

"Well, of all the kirin I know about, he's half of 'em. Also, he's—he's being nice. It's like when I changed, it changed something about how he sees me. I dunno. I still need to work out how he makes these glasses."

"Glasses. Glass. Harry Potter, are you sure that is glass?"

Reaching up with my hooves, I carefully lifted the glasses off my face and looked at them. The frames were the same stone-hardened wood as last time, but the little defects in the glass were slightly different. I sniffed at them, and over the smell of me and Snape that clung to them, there was something almost sweet. "Can you smell this and tell me what they smell like?"

Addera drew her wand and cast her own Locomotion charm and floated the glasses over to herself. Flicking her tongue out at the glasses, she gave a little hiss. "Smells sweet. Like sugar."

"Yeah, that's what I got too." I reached out my hoof while Addera passed them back to me. "Why would they smell sweet?"

I watched Addera lift up her plate, open her mouth, and gulp down three and a half sausages at once along with a mess of gravy. I waited for her to hiss happily and pat at the lump going down her body before asking, "Why'd you do that?"

"Harry Potter, do not think to question a snake on their delight in gulping down a large meal. It is a unique delight." Picking up a napkin, Addera dabbed carefully at her lips before lashing out her tongue again.

I didn't comment when she started loading her plate up with more sausages.

Myself, I liked meat still, and so far I hadn't had any problems with it, but I definitely liked vegetables a little more than before. Being a wizard, I also had a healthy appetite. I got through a full plate, grabbed up enough food to make a second one, then—when it came—crammed down a big bowl of ice cream as well.

The whole room was fairly quiet, much more so than normal. Even Ron and Hermione were mostly focused on eating for most of the evening. With dessert done, everyone leaned back from their meals (though the fully pony of us didn't lean far) and relaxed to speak.

The normal noise of Hogwarts' great hall began in earnest. People speaking over each other, getting louder and louder, ensured every little group was in their own protective bubble of noise.

"So, Ron, what was it like?" Hermione asked.

"Huh?" Ron had been practicing using his hooves to hold things all afternoon, and had made a bit of a mess on the table while he continued over dinner. "What are you talkin' about?"

"The helmet, Ronald." Whenever Hermione broke out Ron's full name, it meant she was slightly annoyed with him—or very annoyed, but I don't think she'd gotten that far yet.

"Oh! Kinda odd. It was like it wasn't just on my head, but in it. There was a soft voice whispering things for me to do. I was just about to start doing them when it was exploded." Ron actually bounced in place with excitement. "You should'a seen 'em! They was huge, and there was so much magic I couldn't believe it!"

"You think that was amazing?" Angelina said as she leaned into our conversation. "Did you see that pegasus? The blue one with the rainbow mane? I've never seen anything move that fast before. She was like a missile, and everywhere she hit a helmet would break in half."

I'd managed to miss all that, of course. I'd been trying to fool the big-bad-boss into thinking I was some kind of turncoat.

"When the purple unicorn—Twilight Sparkle was her name—came out with the Crystal Heart, I felt—" Hermione broke off, and I think she was actually lost for words. "Hope." Nope. Not our Hermione. There was always another adjective, noun, or verb that she could sling.

Ron nodded to that. "Yeah. It felt good. Like I didn't have to worry about Sombra at all. Did you hear what McGonagall said?" When everyone shook their heads, Ron continued, "She said it was some kind of Patronus charm. What's that?"

"A Patronus charm is a ward against evil. It takes a talented witch or wizard to cast, and isn't taught at all because it's thought to be too dif—" Hermione stopped her encyclopedia impersonation when Ron started giggling. "What?"

Halting his laughter, but only barely, Ron seemed to strain to keep a straight face. "Nuffin. So it's an anti-evil thing? Sounds neat. What was it doing in that Heart thingy if it was originally from here?"

Hermione seemed to freeze and stare at Ron as if he'd grown an extra set of eyes, or a horn (well, the last bit isn't quite so strange these days). "M-Maybe their magic isn't too different from ours?"

"Yeah, but she said it was just like a Patronus. What're the chances of the same spell being thought up by wizards and ponies?"

I tuned out of the conversation a little and turned my attention back to Addera. She looked almost sleepy, relaxed and smiling. "Are you okay?"

"Quite, Harry Potter. It is delightful to be truly full. For that, I would defend even Slytherin house if it meant I could eat this well regularly." Addera looked a little shocked at her own words, but then shrugged and shifted her coils.

I felt the touch of her tail a moment later. It wrapped around and lifted me, the tip sliding up my back to rub at my shoulders. I won't say I instantly relaxed, but a moment later my smile resembled hers. "H-Hermione?"

"Harry?" Hermione blinked in surprise. I didn't think I'd interrupted their conversation, but maybe I had? "Is something the matter?"

"No. Well, yes. I need to get the hang of this anger thing, and I was wondering if you could help me research it?" I mean, I could have asked her to marry me and I might have gotten a lesser reaction. Hermione's eyes widened, and I could see a tight smile grow on her lips.

Hermione opened her mouth and I prepared for a flood. "There might be some books on them—you—in the library. Perhaps talking to that Ravenclaw boy again, Luna?"

"Yeah. Luna. He was a girl though, wasn't he?" Ron asked.

"Was," I said. "Haven't seen many others affected like that. Guess he'd be hard to find now. Was he a pure-blood?"

"No idea. But if I had to guess, I'd say he's the colt over there on Ravenclaw table wearing a little pony dress." Pointing out the colt he was talking about, Ron snorted. "He's just about the only one here wearing anything like this. You know, if you'd asked me if I'd be paradin' about with nothing on before all this, I'd have thought you was mad."

Looking at the colt in question, he seemed both with Ravenclaw house and apart from it—like there was something fundamentally different about him. It wasn't hard to guess what. "I know what you mean, Ron. It just doesn't come to mind, does it?"

"You should try it, Hermio—" Ron didn't get any further. Hermione's horn lit up and Ron quickly found a small hunk of bread stuffed in his mouth. It'd happened so fast I'd barely seen her do it, but the whole hall had gone quiet.

"I did it!" Hermione laughed, then held her hands over her mouth to cover it. But it was far too late. All of Gryffindor table cheered, and I think one of Ron's brothers set off a firework that shot into the air and twirled around.

"Five points," the sharp voice of McGonagall called from the head of the hall, "To Gryffindor. Well done, Miss Granger. I'll expect a report on this tomorrow afternoon."

To anyone else in Hogwarts, that would have been a dampener, but Hermione seemed to grow more excited by the prospect of homework, which only confirmed in my mind that she was not only insane, but the right choice to help me find out about kirin. "Well done, Hermione!"

"Good one, Hermione. Shame about the homework." Ron, despite his words, wore a grin that told me he knew how much she liked homework too. "Now you've just gotta work on growin' some wings like the princess, eh?"

When there didn't seem to be any announcements coming from the teachers, everyone started making noises and edging down the benches toward the exit. I stood up and bounced out of Addera's coils, jumped across the table and hugged her. It was the oddest thing I'd ever done in my life, but I just couldn't shake my appreciation for her support. She might be a monster, but she understood me. "Thanks."

"What an odd thing to do, Harry Potter." Despite her tone, Addera hugged me back, squeezing me with her forelegs. "Shall we go back to the tower?"

"Yeah. I—"

"Hello, Potter." The tone and inflection was one hundred percent Malfoy, but the pitch was wrong. When I turned to face him, I froze in shock. The filly in the robes, from Slytherin table earlier, stood there with a smirk on her face. "I guess I should congratulate you on not making a mess of things this time?"

I tried to think of something to say, some words to dredge up and sling back at him—her—but no one thing seemed to make it to my mouth. She didn't inspire the same amount of dread as normal, but the huge colt at her side did. He looked like a mountain up close. "W-What happened?"

"Nice work, 'Arry." The big colt, by way of his voice, was revealed as none other than Lucian Bole. I should have guessed that the biggest bully in the school—literally—would become one of the biggest ponies.

Malfoy turned her head (this is officially the oddest thing I've ever had happen) to Bole with an exasperated expression. "Don't be too nice. It'll only inflate his ego more than being the great Harry Potter already has."

Bole shook his head. "He done the right thing at the right time. 'Sides, it was a good tactic, if a little lunatic at the end. What'd you have done if a teacher 'adn't helped?"

"Actually, it was my owl that caught me. Hooch only saved Percy," I said.

Before Malfoy could say something, Bole chimed in again, "Proper Slytherin thinking, that is. Nice work. Come on, Draco, we gots some more friends to make today."

With that they both walked off together talking. The last thing I heard from Draco was her (still freaks me out) saying something about a snake. I turned back to the table to see Addera looking at me curiously.

"Who was that, Harry Potter?" Addera asked.

"That," I said, "Was Draco Malfoy and Lucian Bole."

"What?" was Ron's question after a moment of shocked silence. "But that was—He was the—Who was the girl?!"

"Remember what happened to Luna? Well, that, but backwards." I shrugged my shoulders, but then it hit me. My brain grabbed the memory of only minutes earlier and tossed it up for me to fixate on.

She looked quite pretty for a pony.

Addera's movement was too fast to follow sometimes—like now. She coiled the end of her tail around me and slithered forward so the loops lifted me up and forward. It was the oddest way to be picked up, but I couldn't really find anything wrong with it. By the time she reached the door of the great hall, she pulled me into her arms and hugged me. "You looked like you needed to get away, Harry Potter."

I shifted my back and squirmed just enough to get comfortable. There must be something about being hugged that just worked right for ponies—I don't think it's a wizard thing, at least. "Before I realized who she was, I kinda…" Don't say it. "I need to go to the library and get any books I can find on kirin."

"Then I shall escort you there and assist, Harry Potter."

Sirius Black had been as succinct as he could with his old friend. Alastor Moody had been skilled at guiding him to only wander down the verbal paths that led to enlightenment—it left Sirius quite surprised and excited that a skilled examiner pulled the horrid tale out in its entirety. "… and that's where I was found, on the street, with the finger of the man who had betrayed my best friends, and twelve other innocents he'd just killed."

"This," Alastor Mad-Eye Moody said, "Is a foul thing. An investigation of your wand would have uncovered the truth, and would have been corroborated by Albus. Why he chose to stay silent through all this is—"

"Is politics. The evidence against me was too great otherwise." Sirius knew that for fact, but it still didn't feel good that his friends couldn't have helped. "If he'd have stood by me, it would only have tarnished his name for naught."

"You're calm about this, lad." That calmness didn't worry Alastor so much make him curious.

Laughing a little louder than he intended, Sirius shook himself to stop. "This place. Lock a wizard up and he has a lot of time to think about things. How—How's Harry doing?"

"He's amazin' lad. You know he stopped Voldemort coming back in his first year at Hogwarts? Then there was all this Slytherin's Heir stuff. I expect he was somewhere in the thick of that straightening things out." Alastor couldn't keep a smile—a rare smile—from his lips. "Mark my words, that boy'll be an amazing Auror one day."

"If I have my way, he'll get to be whatever he wants to. Was he in Hogwarts when it—?"

"Aye. He was. That's part of the reason I'm here, not this business." Gesturing at Sirius, Alastor heaved out a sigh. "If I'd known any of this, and you can bet I would have found it if I'd been there, this —" he gestured at the prison as a whole with his wand, "—wouldn't have been your life for these past years. I may not know more about the incident at Hogwarts, but I'll see justice served."

"Justice?" Twelve years of fire burned in Sirius' veins. "Justice?! Oh yes, justice would be that rat being in here—or dead—for what happened to James, Lilly, and Harry." Clenching his fists into balls, Sirius stared down, but only saw the faces of his lost friends.

"In here'd be the place for him." Alastor agreed wholeheartedly with the idea, but like Sirius there was a part of him that wanted Peter Pettigrew dealt with in a far more sudden manner. Justice, however, was never served by such actions. If the wizards who'd brought Sirius had thought that, he wouldn't be alive to be freed. "I'd come here to talk to you on the assumption you were in with Voldemort. Now I see that's a broken thread in my investigation, I'll move to the next."

Shoving himself to his foot and stump, Alastor Moody swung around the table nimbly while slipping his wand back inside his jacket. "You'll be back in your cell until I can have you released, though I'll leave word you and Hagrid are to be kept free of the dementors."

It was a relief, but Sirius had been dodging the dementors quite effectively since teaming up with Toil. "When can you get me out?" He didn't care that his words had a hard edge to them—prison time in Azkaban gave anyone a hard edge.

"As soon as I can, Lad. After I'm done here, I'll meet up with Fudge and tell him everything. You'll be out a day after that. If it were up to me, you'd be walking out with me. Who's Voldemort's highest in here?"

Sirius wavered a little, the idea of freedom causing him to tremble for a moment. "You don't fear him?"

"Aye. I fear Voldemort well enough. You'd be stark-raving mad not to. I just don't fear his name. Who is—?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Rolling his shoulders, Sirius black stood upright and stretched his back. "Toil tells me she passes messages to the others. Mad as a hatter, though."

"Lestrange." The name halted Alastor in his tracks. Few were the wizard or witch that would give him pause, but she was one. "Committed for life for using the Cruciatus curse on two individuals, torturing them to insanity and leaving their lad—" He had to bite back his words for a moment. "Alice and Frank—little Neville…"

Clapping a hand on Alastor's back, Sirius had never felt closer to the big Auror. "These people seem to ruin not just the lives of those they touch, but their effects spread out like a tangle of spider webs."

"Aye, lad. That they do. You can't be here while I put her to the question, much as you deserve to be. Cousin, right?" Reaching into his duster, Alastor pulled out a bottle and passed it to Sirius.

Sirius hesitated, then took the bottle and opened it. Sniffing, Sirius pulled his head back sharply. "What do you do with this—" he took a swig and coughed once, "—use it to strip the lies from a deatheater?"

Taking the bottle back, Alastor took a swig of his own and let the fiery liquid ease its way down his throat. "I'd be locked in here too if I did that. Run along now, lad, and don't forget t' pretend I kicked yer tail."

Archibald jerked around as the door opened and Sirius black was thrown out of the room to slide across the floor as if dead. Part of him hoped the poor mad soul that was left of the man had died. "You're done then, Auror?"

Stepping around the legs of Sirius, Alastor shook his head and spat on the ground beside the downed man's head. "Lestrange next. Bellatrix, in case you 'ave more than one of the monsters."

Toil rushed over and grabbed one of Sirius' arms and began dragging. They were half a hallway distant before he spoke up. "Excellent impression of a dead man, oh yes. You want Toil's help to make it for real?"

"Toil, you are the strangest friend I've ever had." Sirius smiled for real for the first time since Peter Pettigrew led Voldemort into the home of his friends. There was a reason for him to smile again.

Peter Pettigrew ran like the wind. He'd never been a particularly fit fellow, even as a rat, and had never experienced the lightness of movement that came with a body built for running fast. His hooves flashed, and he galloped across the highlands of Scotland.

'This isn't leading you directly to him.' Ginevra Weasley slipped a little more firmly into Peter's mind and could feel that he was leading her in a different direction. 'He is south!'

Peter feared the anger of Ginevra greatly, she meant everything to him, but he also knew in his heart that he was right. "I know! I'm sorry, mistress, but I must go north-east. The only way to reach him is if we take the portkey from—"

Ginevra was instantly surprised and suspicious. 'A portkey? Where?'

"Thank you! It's just on the edge of Inverness. It takes us to Tunis. That's where he is!" His words didn't silence his hooves—Peter galloped onward. "You have to believe me, I wouldn't lie to you—I can't lie to you."

'He speaks the truth, Ginevra. Trust your minion.'

The voice was like black velvet across Ginevra's mind. Had she a mouth, she'd be smiling at hearing him. 'He's there, isn't he? I'll have to fight him.' His presence was like a warm candle in her mind, she couldn't help but cling close to him.

King Sombra hadn't been completely obliterated before, and hadn't been absolutely sure his insurance plan would work. He could feel the piece of himself calling to greater essences in the strange world. One in particular was nearby and getting closer all the time. 'You will, but you will be cloaked in power he can scarcely dream of, Ginevra.'

Ginevra was about to reply when she felt Peter stop dead in his tracks. Turning her attention outward, she felt a bitter cold flood the land nearby. She recoiled at first out of fear, but that fear was based in Peter's fear.

Shoving free of her minion's mind, Ginevra faced the very essence of the dementor, not that she realized what it was. 'What is it?' No sooner did she ask than Peter screamed aloud—sounding much like a terrified horse—and started to turn. 'STOP!'

'This is power, Ginevra.'

"If we don't run, mistress, that dementor'll kill us, or worse." Peter's hooves were frozen to the ground and he couldn't move. Wrenching with all his mental faculties, he held the thought protect my mistress in his head to give him the power to contemplate resisting her.

'Take it.'

Ginevra Weasley reached out with her own incorporeal self to touch the dementor, and felt it drain pure darkness into her. She felt like ice was pouring into her very being, and as it did she became visible.

"Mistress! You defeated it! What—What happened to you, oh great mistress?" Peter was in full grovel mode at the sight before him. Looking like an ebony-skinned, dark-haired woman cloaked in black robes, his mistress looked— "You're amazing, mistress! So powerful!"

Looking over her arms, her body, Ginevra felt a little strange being in such an adult shape. 'That was a dementor?'

"Yes!"

'Yes. My power.'

Sombra's voice resounded deeply in Ginevra's head. She shivered visibly at the sound and smiled at having any sensation that didn't belong to the detestable Peter Pettigrew. 'You could have rebuilt yourself with it. Taken this rat's body.'

'I made the better choice, Ginevra. This beast is unsuited to bear my greatness, and besides, I gave it to you.' Sombra had not felt as predisposed to another being for many, many hundreds of years. 'Did I make a bad choice?'

Ginevra struggled with her morality. Sombra had done bad things, but his cause—she thought—was just. He was misguided, she thought, With me at his side, King Sombra can be a good ruler. No breath filled her spectral chest, but nonetheless Ginevra made her body appear to breathe. 'No, My King, you made the right choice. Minion, take me to Voldemort so I may deal with him once and for all.

Peter Pettigrew was excited beyond measure. With his hooves freed, he danced in place in a pony imitation of a jig. At last, he reared up in the air and galloped as hard as he could. "Yes, mistress!"

Author's Notes:

Professor McGonagall (Or Dumbledore) [Or the author]: While the castle can't be for sure be in the category of being under the Crystal Empire, by law, before the castle was transported to the other world... Who was the owner of the castle?

"A very good question, but one that is even further tangled than you thought." Gemma Farley put on a hat that read Author's Proxy. "You see, the very ground it was built on was, in theory, owned by the crystal ponies and their ruler. That presents two interesting solutions given the current knowledge. We are the crystal ponies, so we own the ground, but Princess Cadance is an absolute monarch, meaning she can happily confiscate lands on her own say-so.

"And we're not even taking into account the fact we are, in some way, trespassing on Equestrian land. It's all fascinating from a law point of view, but ultimately, since she is the monarch, her word stands. If you reread the section where we had our little revelation, I went very quiet when I realized all these implications. Before, we had some measure of protection as refugees, but now things are a lot more skewed in Princess Cadance's favor." Gemma's mouth pulled into a slight tilt. "I'm still not sure what to think on that. I'll have to ponder it."

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Lab

What It Means To Be A Wizard 2: Magic Boogaloo

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Yawning, I lifted one of my forelegs up, curled a little tighter and stuck my head under it. The advantages to being a kirin, I'll admit, were many. Being able to curl up into a tiny ball and ignore the world was—at this exact moment—the best of them.

Though, now I was partly awake, my brain decided to run through the events of the previous day, highlighting all the places things could have gone a lot worse. The end of the worst recap ever wound up with me passing out in the Gryffindor common room, then waking up a little later as Addera carried me to my bed.

As it turns out, the worst recap ever can still have a happy ending.

I was in that soft place, where reality wasn't taking hold yet, but my dreams weren't completely in control of me. The concept of wizard seemed good to think about here. What did wizardry mean?

Doing wizard stuff, obviously, but there was more to it. Being a wizard meant doing wizardry and living. So the very old wizards—like Dumbledore—were undoubtedly good wizards, but there was the second element here: doing wizardry. Any wizard or witch can become old by hiding in the middle of nowhere and using purely common sense, it was only those in the thick of things—performing acts of wizardry every day—that should be considered true wizards.

—Why are you giggling, Harry Potter?—

Addera's sibilant parseltongue voice made me prick one ear up. Lifting my head, her face (thankfully wearing her glasses) was right before me—our snouts were almost touching. I yawned. —I was thinking about what it means to be a wizard.—

Her tongue lashed out to flick through the air just above my nose. —Weighty thoughts, Harry Potter. What conclusion did you reach?—

—That I might be the best wizard that ever lived.—

The coils that formed the cozy nest I was in tightened around me, squeezing me in a welcome hug. —Harry Potter, how on Earth did you figure that out?— Addera's tone was playful, matching my mood.

—Well, on account of all the wizarding I've done. I'll have to talk to Dumbledore, but I'm pretty sure I'm the youngest student in Hogwarts' history to have set themselves on fire several times in one week. If that's not the supreme example of wizardry, I don't know what is.— It was silliness, but by the rules of wizardry it made sense.

—You are a very silly wizard, Harry Potter.— Normally Addera would be trying to get me up. Even the prefects should be trying to get people up. But, even with warm light coming into the room from somewhere (I assumed a window), she remained coiled around me and extra cozy. —A silly little hissling.—

The last word startled me because I didn't have any meaning for it. —Hissling?— I asked. —What's that?—

Addera had shown me many strange things about snakes, but seeing one blush was definitely new. She didn't say a word, however.

—What does it mean?—

—Harry Potter, you are not to mention this to another living soul, nor even an unliving one.— Coiling a little tighter, Addera hissed at the blankets when one fell off her outermost coil. —It's what a mother snake calls their young.—

The knowledge hit me like a brick. Probably harder, truth be told. All the little ways she'd treated me over the last week started to add up, and I realized why it felt so nice to have her carry me and protect me.

—I didn't know my mother.— The words started to tumble out of me. Everything I'd pieced together and learned over the past two years, everything about my time living with the Dursleys, and I started talking about what my first year of Hogwarts had been like when a hoof gently booped me on the nose.

Addera was looking down at me with an unreadable expression that melted into a smile. —You've had quite the life, Harry Potter.—

—You see why I kinda like all this, right? Being stuck here means I don't have to go back to the Dursleys' house.—

The coils around me tightened just a hair beyond comfort. It was a forceful reminder that Addera had been a predator that hunted beasts and men in the past, and she could again. When she relaxed her grip, I let out a little gasp. —Sorry, Harry Potter, but hearing about these Dursleys makes me angry.—

My giggles, thanks to be focused on parseltongue, came out as little hissing sounds that made me both hiccup in surprise and cover my mouth. I looked up at Addera, and could see by her smile that she'd heard me. —When I want to get angry, I've been thinking of them too.—

Addera's hissing giggle broke the silence that fell after my words, and I couldn't stop myself from joining her. It was more from relief than just the gag that I was laughing—I hadn't even told Ron and Hermione the full extent of what had happened. She reached out to me with one hoof and booped my nose again. —Would you like some more rest, Harry Potter?—

—The sun's up. The whole castle will be going crazy again soon.—

—Harry Potter, you underestimate the effect of an annoyed basilisk's glare, even through these glasses.—

—Addera! That's meant to be a secret.—

Her coils squeezed again. —Your friends and enemies are not as stupid as you think, Harry Potter. Perhaps especially your enemies. One big snake disappears, another appears. There is not much maths involved, Harry Potter.—

—But no one's freaking out about it. Why wouldn't they be scared of you if they knew you were the basilisk?— I'd woken up far too much now to sleep further. Talking to Addera was nice, though. I felt better just having shared all my problems from back home.

—How many deadly creatures do students have already, Harry Potter?— Addera started to shift, uncoiling herself from around me and soon leaving me feeling the chill of morning. —Several Slytherin students have pet snakes, I know of three poisonous toads, and George has a pet salamander. A basilisk that looks as pretty as I do, approved by the teachers, becomes far less remarkable.—

Yawning, I shook out my fur and arched my back into a stretch. Since I'm making a list of things that are better about being a kirin than a human, I might as well add cozy sleeping with a basilisk and stretching properly. The pain of broken bones was just a memory now, but I'm sure the day would throw something new at me.

Dropping from the bed, I landed comfortably on all four hooves and started my walk for the showers. —I guess wizards get used to the fantastic quickly.—

There was no more pretense. I went into the showers and used a fire spell to burn away everything that wasn't me. It wasn't as intense as when I got angry, I found, but the flames still caused a scorch mark that I had to clean off. The difference now was—like having a thirty foot long basilisk living with you—it was my idea of normal, because I'm a wizard.

To wherever-ponies-send-bad-people with not living up to this. Wizarding was a way of life, and balanced with common sense I was sure it could be my way of life. I'd been infected nearly two years ago, and it seemed terminal.

When I reached the dorm room, I could see Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus were all still asleep. With my coat crackling and my mane a swooshy pile of hair that never seemed to take well to me threatening it with a comb, I grabbed (with some Locomotion charms) my glasses, Ginny's diary, and one of Hermione's ballpoint pens, and headed down to the common room.

Addera was waiting for me, her scales looking shinier than ever. It wasn't just my glasses, her scales really had a sheen to them that caught the light coming in through the window. She had my schoolbag on her shoulders and looked excited to see me. "Are you ready to have breakfast? I can already smell the sausages."

"I thought snakes only ate once a week or something? I'm sure I learned that in muggle school." Despite how nice it was to be carried by Addera, I liked walking too. In fact, I think I'll make having four legs be my number four thing that's awesome about being a kirin. Or was I up to fifth?

To show off how much I liked my legs, I bounced on my legs stiffly, then used my muscles to send me into the air and sideways. Bouncing off the wall with another kick, I landed back on my hooves again.

"I guess that's the pony part of me, Harry Potter. Are you having fun?"

"There's a list I've been putting together. It has all the things that's better about being here than back in England."

"Does a certain basilisk rate in that list, Harry Potter?" Her question struck me as interesting. When I looked, she was gazing down through her glasses. "I'm asking for a friend."

"If you must know, being able to curl up into a little ball in the midst of warm basilisk coils is right at the top. Where'd you learn that joke?" Reaching the painting, I walked up to it and pushed it open from the inside.

Addera followed me out, pulling her huge tail from the gap before swinging the painting closed again. "If you must know, Harry Potter, I heard Lee Jordan asking Oliver Wood if he had a replacement seeker chosen already. This was yesterday—in the morning."

"Hello, Harry, Addera." Gemma Farley's voice had both our attention. Her yellow fur and green hair really stood out in the drab hallway. "I was just walking past. Heading to breakfast?"

I rolled my eyes. "Gemma, this isn't Slytherin house. You didn't happen to be just walking past, and you know we're heading to breakfast. Give the mind games a rest." I had the pleasure of seeing Gemma's eyes widen a little at my words before she grinned. "So what's up?"

"Something odd's coming. I heard Trelawney telling Dumbledore that two juggernauts were approaching Hogwarts, and that the stars were aligned in a way that spoke of chaos and confusion. Now, you don't know her—and she's a bit of a loonie—but when she comes to Dumbledore with something, she actually saw something real." Gemma kept pace with us. "Which is why I'm bringing this to you."

"Why me? Dumbledore knows it now, he can deal with it." What was annoying was how much taller than me Gemma was now—I had to crane my neck to look her in the eye.

Gemma snorted a lot like I expected horses do. "You're Harry Potter, that's why. Look, there's only one thing I ask for in trade for this little piece of information, and that—"

"Trading favors and secrets?" Addera didn't sound impressed. "Very well, make your demands, but know that I will weigh them against your information, Gemma Farley."

Kirin ears. Definitely number five (I think? I lost count somewhere. Let's just call it five). Being able to hear Gemma's nervous gulp made me want to bounce and giggle some more.

"Just go easy on Draco. She's been through a lot, and some of her friends are not her friends anymore. She's been hiding it most of the week, you know? Just—" Gemma let out a sigh. "I don't want you to be best friends or anything, but just don't go out of your way to laugh at her."

This Gemma Farley was yet another different version. Asking? I almost scoffed and thought she was doing some more silly Slytherin stuff, but for the life of me I couldn't work out what her game was. "So knowing something big is coming in trade for not ragging on Malfoy? If he—she doesn't start anything, I won't." Ironically all I'd ever wanted with Malfoy, really.

I'd be lying if I said there wasn't an urge to poke fun at Malfoy anyway, but I knew how it felt not to fit in, particularly after everyone thought I was the Heir Of Slytherin. So much for desires to get revenge on him—her. Why did life have to get so weird? Perhaps it had something to do with being a wizard?

"That's fine. What started this mess between you two, anyway?"

"No clue. Just seemed like the right thing to do." I didn't want to tell her my actual reasons for disliking him—her. After all, Gemma was where she was because she traded information, or so it seemed. Giving it to her for nothing would be—I almost threw up a little. This was exactly how a Slytherin would think! "Well, it was probably something to do with me being kinda famous, what with the Voldemort thing." Saying his name always earned a little jolt to those I was talking to. It wasn't like Voldemort could hurt me, I'd beat him down how many times now?

Gemma nodded her head to that, as if I were confirming something she already knew. "That sounds like Draco. Poor kid has been living under her father so much I don't know if she'll ever leave his shadow. Maybe this situation will help with that, but I don't know."

Well that was hardly fair. For two years I'd managed to consider Malfoy nothing but an annoyance. I mean, at least she had parents, but to find out they were the reason she was always so—so Malfoy?

"I believe we have an understanding, Gemma Farley. Please excuse us." Addera slithered and put her coils between Gemma and me. It was as good an end to the conversation as I was likely to get.

"Bye, Gemma!" Trotting along at Addera's side, I tried to put this new information into context. Trelawney saw something that might mean bad stuff is coming? Well, I'll deal with it as it comes. What could be worse than Voldemort or the Dursleys?

We were almost first arriving for breakfast. Unlike the normal "orderly" breakfasts of the school year, these eat whenever you want days were not just becoming the norm, but were far more relaxed. There was only one other Gryffindor there already (a half-blood style pony with light brown fur and a darker brown mane), and there was no teachers at all yet.

With only a few other students in the great hall, the house-elves were already delivering just the right amount of breakfast to each diner. "Hello," I said as I sat down on a waiting coil of Addera's tail. "I'm not sure who you—"

"It's me, Harry. Oliver."

I blinked in surprise. "How'd you pull up after the game?"

"I got knocked out with a bunch of others. Tried to help Ron protecting the younger students, but there was just so many of the damn—" Oliver signed and used his hoof to push a fork around on the plate. "Sorry, just a bit down about all of this." He waved his hoof out in front of him.

I cast a few Locomotion charms quickly to get my fork and knife going, and started directing them to load my plate. "Well, you'll need more tape, but I don't think it's going to stop us winning the tournament. Who's playing today?"

"Harry! You can't be serious! How can we be expected to play like—" Oliver stopped talking and looked at me. "Alright. I get it. You played like this and managed. But I'm meant to be—"

"Oliver Wood, you are an excellent sportsman and a good friend of Harry Potter's. I find it highly unusual that you would find anything impossible. You're a wizard, Oliver Wood." That said, Addera slipped a sausage in her mouth and sighed with every indication of delight.

"I need to be able to hold a ball, and I can barely manage with a spoon." Oliver pushed said spoon around in his porridge. "I just don't even know where to start! What kind of rules even covers this?"

"Why don't you talk to Eliza about it?" I asked. "The other captains as well. I mean, the rules are going to have to change a little. Also, talk to Hooch. If you don't sort something out, no one except muggle-born could play. And that'd suck."

Sitting up straight, Oliver stared at me with wide eyes. "You—you're right! We need rules on—Some of the fouls will need to be relaxed, but—This could work." Drawing out his wand from within his mane, Oliver made a quick arc with it and muttered a spell under his breath. A scroll, quill, ink pot, and blotter appeared from thin air. He cast another spell on the quill and set it to writing while he continued eating.

The summoning item spell was curious, but what really interested me was the one he used to write with. "What spell was that?"

"The Summoning charm or the cribbing spell?"

I almost forgot to swallow the mouthful of porridge I'd taken before speaking. "The—That's a cribbing spell? I thought those are banned?"

"Only if you're using them in class. They're handy for taking notes. My hand always gets a cramp when—Well, it used to get a cramp. The spell is for writing without making a noise and doesn't trigger the usual alarms that a Locomotion charm would. There's a downside, though. If you're careful with Locomotion charms, you can work a few at a time—like you are now—but no matter how many of these you cast, they'll all write the same stuff."

Oliver seemed to get distracted by his writing, and it was obvious he was too distracted by the prospect of more quidditch to be able to hold up a conversation. I gulped down a bowl of porridge and two pork sausages, then was just reaching for some candied bacon when I felt movement. Something was coming, and I knew it would change my morning forever.

Hedwig swooped into the hall and did a quick circle before landing beside me on the table. The odd bit was that I didn't just feel her being close, but I could feel the air under her wings and (when she landed) the wood under her talons. She turned her head to bark at me before grabbing up a piece of bacon.

Before, when she'd bark or whistle at me, I had only guesses as to what she meant. I always knew she was smarter than other birds, but this time I felt hunger/happiness from her—carried in that single bark. "You should try a sausage, Hedwig. They're really tasty." I speared said sausage with my fork and held it out to her.

Excitement bubbled out through the whistle Hedwig made. She reached out a claw for the sausage but grabbed the fork instead and held it up while she ripped a hunk off the end of the sausage.

I relaxed my grip on the fork with the Locomotion charm, and let her take control of it until she was done. "I think I need to talk to the ponies, Addera. Find out if there's other kirin I can talk to. Surely there has to be some somewhere."

"Shall we go and speak to them after breakfast, Harry Potter?" Addera asked.

"Yeah. I'll have to ask—"

Addera hissed a little. "No. We'll go together, Harry Potter. This is not something that needs to involve your school." She held up a sausage and bit sharply into it, enough that I could see green venom leaking from her fangs that pierced the casing. "Besides, school ended with your classes."

Surprise was an understatement. I looked up at Addera and opened my mouth, but couldn't think what to say. Fortunately, Hedwig picked then to whistle most contentedly, and all of a sudden I felt twice as full—though that didn't stop her from grabbing another piece of bacon.

Without an ounce of hesitation I speared another piece of bacon with my liberated fork and started eating it too.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice cut through the quiet of the morning. "Hedwig was just eating a sausage off that!"

I turned my head to look at Hermione, then glanced back to Hedwig, then back to Hermione again. "Well, she saved my life. I figure a sausage is the least I can do to pay her back." The sarcasm was impossible to resist under the circumstances.

Hermione seemed to puff up like she was ready to give me a lecture. "But she's a bird, Harry. She has germs and—and it's not sanitary. There's all manner of things you could catch, and that's not counting what she had on her beak from her last meal. You could——"

Tuning out someone would be a great kirin skill. I wonder if I could somehow develop that? Even tucking my ears down didn't stop the noise from reaching my brain. But despite how much I disliked lectures from Hermione, she was my friend—she'd given up her humanity to protect me. "Hermione, it's okay."

"It's not okay, Harry. She may be your owl, and maybe even your familiar, but you—" Narrowing her eyes, Hermione glared at me through from a cute pony face. "Why is it okay?"

"Well, I'm not feeling the least bit hoarse. Quite stable, in fact." I had to duck to the side to avoid her weakly thrown punch. This gave me the impetus to call breakfast complete. "Come on, Hedwig, let's hoof it!"

"Harry Potter!" Hermione's shout chased me from the great hall.

Panting mostly from laughing, I felt Hedwig land on my back as we got outside. Addera was right behind me, still nibbling on a sausage. "We should probably go visit the ponies now, before—"

"That, Harry Potter, was cruel—and wonderful. I can only assume the ponies are in the downstairs portion of the castle."

I nodded, and together we headed down the stairs and into the new part of the castle. The first and most obvious thing was the guards at the front door. They looked huge and imposing, but I remembered they were on our side. "Excuse me?"

Spark Splash might have been a mission specialist with the Royal Guard, but he was still a member of the force, and that meant standing guard duty. When the little colt and his snake pony friend approached and tried to get his attention, he snapped a hoof down smartly. "What can I help you with?"

"Well," Harry Potter said, "I was hoping I could speak to someone who might know where more kirin are. If it's not too much trouble, that is." Big as the guard was, Harry felt twice as big with Addera at his side. His voice was steady despite being slightly in awe of the big stallions.

"Firmament, hold the post. I'll escort these two to the princess and send somepony to take my place." Spark waited for his fellow guard to nod before turning his full attention to Harry and Addera. "Princess Cadance will best know who to talk to about this. Please follow me."

Harry's horn tingled at the presence of the Royal Guard pony, but until he fell in beside the stallion it didn't become too bad. Stepping a little to the side, he looked at the pony and tried to work out what was making his horn itch so much. The unicorn wasn't using his horn, and Harry hadn't seen him do magic without such. "E-Excuse me, but I keep getting the feeling like you're doing any magic."

"Magic? Spells? Not at all. I've had training in them, though. Why do you ask?" Curiosity hit Spark Splash like a hammer. The young colt seemed interested in magic—and why not since he was attending a magic school. "Wait, you mean you can feel magic? Maybe it's my armor and spear."

Stepping closer, Harry reached his snout up to almost touch the butt of the spear that seemed to cling to the side of Spark's armor. His horn almost exploded in myriad of sensations. He could feel a thunderstorm of magic bound within the spear, and yet more just inches away in the armor Spark wore. "Wow!"

"Princess Celestia enchants them herself. There's never been a single Royal Guard who's been injured through his armor, nor has anything ever stopped our spears. Not that we like to rely on either." Marching along—trying not to prance at being able to show off his gear—Spark saluted the two guards on duty at the door that led to the new throne room. "Escorting…" He looked to the side and raised an eyebrow.

"Harry Potter and Addera," Harry said.

Spark started again. "Escorting Harry Potter and Addera to meet Princess Cadance."

"Head inside. The prince and princess are having breakfast."

The throne room of the castle of the Crystal Empire was massive. Compared to the great hall of Hogwarts it was almost double the dimensions in every direction. At one end stood a pair of crystalline thrones that refracted light like huge prisms, and on each was a duplicate of Shining Armor and Princess Cadance's cutie marks. There was opulent purple carpet leading up to the dais upon which the two thrones sat, and just the sight of the two weighty, literal seats of power made Harry stare in awe—not that they were occupied. Off to one side, on the floor level, Shining and Cadance sat at a small wooden table eating a sandwich each.

"Your Highness! Captain Armor! Harry Potter and Addera are here to see you!" Spark's voice resounded through the hall just like he intended. Training, both his own and of others, had resulted in the stallion having more than enough presence of voice to fill a single throne room.

Shining Armor recognized Harry first as the strange foal he'd seen practically all over the place in Hogwarts, and was the same that Twilight had spent the evening convincing him was the real savior of the Crystal Empire. "Harry! Please, come over. You don't mind us finishing breakfast while we chat?"

"N-Not at all, sir!" Harry was a little confused at being asked if he didn't mind them eating. He was also confused at how to address actual royalty.

"What did you wish to see us about?" Cadance asked.

Seeing Harry a little lost for words, Addera spoke up. "While most of the humans have turned into crystal ponies of some sort or another, Harry Potter has turned into a kirin. There are some unique problems with this state, and we are both curious as to finding others of his kind to ask about them."

"Yeah, that," Harry said with relief. "I'm a bit sick of burning my glasses up whenever I get upset. Snape has been replacing them for me, but he won't tell me how he's doing it, and wants me to work it out."

"Burning—?" Shining cut himself short and stood up. "Well, if there's anypony who knows about (kirin, was it?) it'll be Twily. C'mon, I bet I know where she is."

Her look becoming stormy for a fraction of a second, Cadance glared at her husband. "Shiny!"

"C-Cady! You knew there'd be more to do to get the Crystal Empire back on its hooves." Pausing for a second, Shining sat back down and looked to Spark. "Sergeant! Escort our two guests to where my sister and her friends are."

"Good choice, Shiny," Cadance said.

"Sir!" Spark gestured to the doors at the rear of the throne room. "The royal apartments are this way, Harry, Addera. Twilight Sparkle is there."

Harry could remember Twilight quite clearly, though his fondest memory of her was for something she did without him present. Twilight had made his almost-sacrifice count for something. "They're kinda a big deal, aren't they?" he asked.

"Who, the bearers of the Elements of Harmony? I should think so. When Nightmare Moon returned, it was them who helped her become Princess Luna again, when Discord got free, they were the only ponies who could stand against him, and—well, they might not have been up for fighting Queen Chrysalis and her army of changelings, but Twilight Sparkle did have the right of it." Equestria's heroes were one of Spark's favorite topics. "Princess Cadance saved the day that time. It's why I knew that no matter what, things would turn out right here."

The knock at the door surprised Twilight Sparkle. Using her magic, she reached out and opened the door even while walking to it. One of the ever-present Royal Guards was standing beside the strange pony and the stranger snake she'd seen the previous day. "Uh, hi!"

"Twilight Sparkle, I present Harry Potter and Addera." Clicking his hooves on the crystalline floor, Spark Splash waited for Twilight to nod before he turned and marched off. When the door closed behind him, he grinned wide. "I met Twilight Sparkle!"

Stepping into what appeared to be a vast library, Harry took one look around before focusing on Twilight. "I'm really glad you got the Heart out."

"I couldn't have done it without you," Twilight Sparkle said, trying to not let her attention wander back to the book she'd been reading. "Did you come here for the books, too?"

"We are here to find kirin, Twilight Sparkle." Addera found herself curious of the not-formerly-a-human pony, though with the news about the suspected origins of wizards, she had to wonder if the wizards themselves were ponies-stuck-as-humans-no-longer-stuck-as-humans. "Harry Potter needs to learn from them."

The cause sparked interest in Twilight. "You know, I believe I have a book back home that has something about them. If I remember correctly, the only known kirin village is at the Peaks of Peril, but it's not safe there.

"You see, the kirin aren't the only creatures that live there. The nirik, beasts of pure fire, also roam the area. It's definitely not safe for—" Twilight stopped her lecture at the sound of giggles, "—foals. What's so funny?"

Harry curtailed his laughter long enough to reply. "Well, if the other kirin are anything like me, then these nirik were probably them."

"Huh?"

"Follow me. We need somewhere outside where there's nothing that can catch fire." Leading the way out of the library, Harry was absolutely sure he didn't want to nirik out in there. As he walked, he thought on the word. "Isn't nirik just kirin spelled backwards?"

Twilight had managed to avoid stepping on Addera's tail, but the revelation that the word nirik was kirin backwards startled her to immobility. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. Finally, she trotted to catch up with Harry and Addera. "It is! How did I not realize that? How did nopony realize that?"

None of the guards tried to stop Twilight, Harry, or Addera as they headed outside. All around them, crystalline formations were pushing their way from the ground—though too slowly to actually see them moving.

Walking off from the castle a little ways, Harry used a locomotion spell to float his glasses over to Addera. "Alright. Stand back."

"Oh!" Twilight couldn't think what else to say when confronted with a foal catching on fire and looking angry enough to go on a good rampage, but she quickly recovered from that state. "Well that certainly explains nirik, but why do you want to find the native kirin?"

Rounding on Twilight with a snarl, Harry tried to get past the anger he'd inspired within himself. "So I can work out how to not do this and turn back!"

Author's Notes:

Are remnant shards of Sombra's power, or are they simply similar enough for him to consume?

Sombra smiled, "Yes!"

Headmistress Mcgonagoll: "Are there any plans being made for the chance that returning to let's say "Earth" is impossible? And even if return IS possible what if a student or teacher did not WANT to return?

"Students are bound to return to their parents or guardians. The school has never and will never be in the business of kidnapping."

Sombra, you seem remarkably, calm, about being stuck as a mare. Saving the angst for a more appropriate time, or do you simply not care? And did you just steal that poor dementor's cloak?

"The makeup of a body matters not to me save it is a proper pony form. Ginevra's latest choice is less to my liking, but I have little say in the matter at this point in time."

Twilight, has there been research on magic-deprived ponies? I'm curious how a half-enslaved-by-evil-hats pile of rock ponies with few unicorns ended up originating a worldwide magic blood diaspora, and more importantly how there's no stories of them.

"Well, we're not sure exactly what happened, but the current hypothesis that the wizard humans are descended in some way from those crystal ponies has yet to be disproven, so stands as a theory. As to how such things happened, I can only speculate that there were enough unicorns among them that they could transform the others into humans," Twilight Sparkle said.

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I didn't particularly want to lose my temper at Twilight, she'd helped save everyone, but it wasn't like I had a choice. It was her or Addera. "Ugh! We're wasting our time! I need—"

The sound of clattering hooves made me wheel around, ready to face a new threat and blast it with fire. My anger rose until my eyes locked onto Tourmaline. The anger and fury drained out of me like I'd been struck. She looked amazingly happy, and her coat sparkled brightly in the morning sunlight, refracting the sun's rays into a million little beams of light.

She was beautiful and running right for me. I had no chance of dodging her, and Tourmaline crashed into me firmly and wrapped her forelegs around my neck in a hug. "Harry! Harry! Harry!"

"Hi there, Tourmaline." Was she going to be the one to free me of my anger every time? I shouldn't look a gift-horse in the mouth lest it be a little hoarse. There has to be more horse puns I can pack into a single statement.

"This is your friend, Tourmaline?" A mare had walked up to us behind Tourmaline. "My name's Perfect Arc, and I believe I owe you a lot of thanks for saving my daughter and my own life."

"A-Addera, could you give me back my glasses?" I asked. Once suitably able to see again, I realized that Perfect Arc was bowing to me. She was a brilliant purple earth pony mare with a jade green mane and tail, and she caught the light even better than Tourmaline did.

When I'd first started at Hogwarts, I'd found out that practically every wizard and witch knew my name, but being bowed to was something new. "Th-Thanks, Addera." I turned my full attention to Tourmaline's mum. "It's okay. Anyone would do the same. Helping people is what wizards do." Well, it was what this wizard do—err, does.

Perfect Arc lifted her head with a big smile across it and practically lit up with happiness. "Well, it's lucky we have so many at hoof now!" Her smile, however, fell. "I just wish Tourmaline's father were still with us. I—I like to think he lived on in your world and became part of the ponies that became wizards there."

"Mom, let's go and find our house." Tourmaline's head was tilted nearly all the way up so she could look at her mum's face.

"My clever little filly is right. I should go home. Thank you again, Harry." Perfect Arc didn't wait for me to say anything. She turned around with one hoof rubbing Tourmaline on the shoulder and walked away.

What else was going to happen? The morning was quickly filling up with things that were—

"Twilight!" A blue streak of fur and feathers, somehow trailed by a rainbow, stopped just before us. Rainbow Dash. I'd heard the name before, though I wasn't sure where exactly. She just seemed to stop dead in the air and barely flapped her wings. "Cadance just got word, they've found more wizards just outside the new barrier. She's going to head over there with—Oh! Hi!"

"Hello." Addera, behind her mirror glasses, seemed unreadable—if you didn't know that the squirming of her tail-tip meant she was upset about something. "Where did these other wizards come from?"

"Oh! Right! That's the coolest bit. There's some kind of magic portal, and all of them look a bit like minotaurs, like they were"—Rainbow Dash pointed at me and Addera with a hoof—"before they turned into ponies."

The news was, honestly, stunning. They had a portal open and were coming through, but it didn't close after them. Unconsciously I found myself taking a few steps back from Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle.

There was a way back.

What was going to happen? A pile of kids stuck turned into ponies goes back to England, that's what. Back to—Back to the Dursleys.

My world seemed to fold in on itself over and over—flashing up images of everything that had happened to me there. Living in a closet. Treated like a servant. Fed like—like a slave. I started to shake not with anger but fear.

—What's wrong, Harry Potter?— Addera's hissing voice pulled her into my world and practically commanded me to look up and pay her attention.

—Idon'twannagoback.— The words (hisses) fell out of my mouth in a heap. I shook my head. —It'll be worse than ever. The Dursleys won't even think I'm human.—

—Harry Potter,— Addera said, but I could barely hear her.

—They'll chain me up outside with a collar and a dog bowl and I won't get to…— I trailed off as Addera's arms reached around me and picked me up from the ground.

—Shhh. Shhh. You won't go anywhere, Harry Potter, that you do not wish to.— She held me tight and didn't let me squirm or wiggle, not that I had much want to do that. "Excuse me," Addera said in English to Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle, "Could you give me directions on where to find these kirin?"

"Err. Well." Twilight, when I turned my head to look at her, seemed to be a little caught out. "You see, I have a book back home that will show you where it is. We were planning to head home anyway—I guess I could get the girls to leave early."

"If it were possible, could we leave now?" Gone was Hermione's tones in Addera's voice. She sounded both calm and reasonable.

"You don't want to meet your friends from—from wherever you came from?" Twilight asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Though I can see you wanting to get to the bottom of this problem as soon as possible. "

Rainbow Dash scoffed. "We practically came here with nothin' but our bad-guy-fightin' gear, Twilight, and that train is waiting for us to go back to Ponyville. I bet he just doesn't like the idea of crowds, like somepony else we know."

"Ohhhh!" Blinking in surprise with eyes that seemed way too big for her face, Twilight Sparkle broke into a big smile. "Well, in that case, tell the girls we're leaving immediately! Addera, if you want to bring anything with you, you'd probably best get it now."

"I have everything I need. Harry Potter, do you need to fetch anything from the castle?" When Addera's snout connected to the back of my neck, I squirmed a little.

I had Ginny's diary, a pen for writing in it, my wand, and Addera. There was only one other thing I needed. "Only Hedwig." Just saying her name sparked a connection. I felt her awareness of me like a little fire inside—though it wasn't as hot as my nirik fire.

Nirik. It was a silly name, but I liked it. I am the first nirik wizard! Obviously better than regular wizards, since more fire was involved.

I could feel her getting closer and closer. Looking up, I just knew exactly the right direction she was coming from, despite the fact she was dead silent in the air. Now I was squirming to jump up so she could land on me, but instead she swooped down and landed on Addera's shoulder. "Hedwig! It's good to see you, girl."

Without any hesitation I shoved my snout up and into her feathers. She was warm and smelled like—Okay, she smelled like bacon and sausages, but that was because she'd had them for breakfast. She was the warmth I felt. She also used her beak to scratch along my horn and whistle softly at me.

"We're going on a trip," I said to Hedwig. "Would you like to come?"

My answer was immediate and loud. I had to tuck my ears down as she barked loudly, her mouth just about exactly between my ears.

Twilight Sparkle made an excited sound. "You have a pet owl too? Owlowiscious is waiting back home for me. Spike said he'd take care of feeding him for me. He's a barn owl, though. What type is—You called her Hedwig?"

With my ears tucked back still, I turned to Twilight Sparkle. "I did. Isn't she beautiful?"

I realized the other pony—Rainbow Dash—was nowhere to be seen. Twilight Sparkle, however, leaned a little closer to look at Hedwig. "Her feathers are amazing. I've never seen this pattern before. Is she native to your world, or did you find her in Equestria?"

"No, she's from back home. Someone said I might have accidentally made her my familiar, or something." I don't know why I was talking so much—telling Twilight Sparkle more than I intended. She just seemed nice on a level I'd rarely seen before. That probably had something to do with why I'd trusted her with the Crystal Heart.

"Familiar?" Twilight Sparkle asked, but no sooner did she than we were interrupted by five more ponies.

Rainbow Dash, and—I couldn't for the life of me remember the names of the rest. They were a colorful display, though. Pink, purple, yellow, blue, orange, and a whole rainbow of colors in Rainbow's mane and tail.

"Twilight! Darling! What's the rush? It seems like we only just got here and—Who's your friends? Is that an owl?" Her tone was full of total snobbery, only she didn't act like it.

"Rarity, Ah think if Twilight said we need t' make tracks, we should." This was the orange one, and speaking with the thickest and fakest American accent I'd ever heard. It sounded nothing like the movies I'd seen.

"Well, it seems Harry here got turned into a kirin by all this magic going around, and he has a little problem he needs to talk to other kirin about. He's going to pay Equestrian kirin a visit to ask them about it." Twilight Sparkle looked like she was completely behind our plan. It was almost crazy that an adult had just jumped onboard with it like that. "So I thought I'd find out where that is—I totally have a book about kirin back home—and I'd go with them to find out all about kirin with him!"

The pinkest of them looked like she was ready to explode. She took a huge gasp of air and bounced a foot into the air and just hung there. "Road-trip!"

"Pinkie!" Twilight Sparkle seemed to agree with me that the shout was not just too loud but ear-tuck worthy. Then my brain clicked as to what she'd shouted. Was the pinkest mare's name literally Pinkie?! "Oh who am I kidding. I'm excited as well. Come on, girls!"

"H-Hello. You're a kirin?" I had to extend my ears forward again to hear the voice of the yellow and pink pony. She looked, well, amazing. Her mane and tail were both so long they should have been dragging on the ground, but each curled at the last moment and lifted free. She was so softly spoken I had to focus on her.

"Yeah. That's what we think. It seems to fit at least." There was something immensely calming about talking to her, like she radiated softness and safety. "Have you seen Hedwig?" Knowing I was talking about her, Hedwig whistled softly.

"Oh my goodness!" It was the softest exclamation I'd ever heard. There was also a kind of subdued excitement in her that radiated out and made me want to smile. "What kind of owl are you, Miss Hedwig?"

Fluffing out her feathers, Hedwig gave a little bark in reply.

The yellow mare cut in before I could try to answer for Hedwig. "A snowy owl? I've never heard of one of those before." Again I felt behind the 8-ball. I hadn't said she was a snowy owl (nor had Addera), and Twilight Sparkle had been pretty upfront that she'd never seen a snowy owl in this world. "Well, we don't have snowy owls here, Miss Hedwig, but if you want I could talk to you more to find out what you need."

—Addera, do you think she can actually understand Hedwig? This place is really odd, and I wouldn't put it past someone here having that kind of magic given how much they seem to leak,— I asked Addera.

"I can understand any animal, though, uh, I've never heard anyone else speak snake before. Do many of you know it?" As she spoke, I stared at the yellow pony. She seemed so much more intense.

Shifting a little in Addera's grip, I tried to give her as much attention as she gave me. "N-Not really. It's kinda rare. I don't really know how I do it, it just started a few years ago."

"Well, it's fascinating. I'd really like to talk about it some more. The only other pony I know that can understand animals is—well, she's a little odd, and I can't really talk to her too much or her doctors start looking at me strange. I can understand her barking just fine, but they seem to think nopony can, and—"

"Fluttershy?" Twilight Sparkle said, interrupting her friend. "You know we'll be on a train together for the rest of the day, right? I'm sure Harry and Addera here would be happy to talk to you more. Not to mention wanting to ask them about how their magic works."

I wasn't completely sure, but these ponies might just be impossible to not like. Fluttershy, the name of the yellow and pink one I'd been talking with, was so focused on animals I'd think she was some kind of mini Hagrid, Twilight Sparkle was like a more savvy version of Hermione, and I could only imagine how friendly the rest of them were.

"Oh—Okay." Fluttershy didn't draw back from Addera and me at all. She turned at the same time as her other friends, and I figured they already knew where the train was.

Addera turned with them and slithered along sedately at their side. I peeked back, toward the castle that was now a mix of Hogwarts and crystal, and even though I had glasses on, I couldn't tell if the figures moving around at the front of it were human or maybe just muggle-born or even half-bloods. —Thank you.—

—You're most welcome, Harry Potter. Apart from the castle itself, I lack any ties to Earth. Except him, of course.— Her tone, even hissed as it was, told me exactly what Addera thought of Voldemort.

—My ties are… not worth mentioning. It'll be nice not to go back for a bit.—

The others were talking enough, still in English, to hide our soft hisses. It was nice to just let someone else take me away from the possibility of going back to the Dursleys. —For just a bit, Harry Potter?—

I pushed my snout against the oddly soft fur of Addera's chest and nodded. —I always end up back there. It's horrible.—

—You don't want to go back, Harry Potter?—

This time I shook my head.

—Then you won't, Harry Potter.—

Was it wrong I wanted to believe her?

"They were demanding to see Headmaster Dumbledore." Gemma Farley looked around at the other students she'd managed to gather together—which wasn't many. Most students had crowded to see what was going on with human wizards coming into the castle, but Gemma had grabbed the first few students she trusted and dragged them around a corner with a glare and pure willpower.

"I'm sure it will all be straightened out quickly, Gemma. They're Ministry wizards. It's not like they'd come in blasting or anything." Percy Weasley felt confident in one thing, and that was the Ministry of Magic. Not only had his father worked there as far back as he could remember, but it stood for order and correctness—things that (in his opinion) were sorely lacking in a lot of wizards.

Gemma actually snorted just like a horse would. "Not blasting, but I can't exactly guess what they'll do when they find out we're in the middle of a foreign country that seems to know all about magic. There are several scenarios I can see happening." Poking her head around the corner, she could see Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall talking to one of the wizards. "None of them are particularly good. Blasting is not required, and given what I've heard of the ponies, I don't think it would work.

"What's the standard procedure if a non-wizard gets involved in Ministry business?"

"Obliviate 'em." Lucian Bole was well aware of the tactics the Ministry of Magic deployed. He was, after all, studying with the aim of working there. "An' if it don't take, Oblivate 'em more."

Draco Malfoy, for a fraction of a moment, could remember seeing the thundering charge the Royal Guard ponies performed. "That won't work out well for the Ministry. But, I hardly see how this has anything to do with us."

"There's not a lot of people I'd trust to try turning us back and not botch it." Gemma closed her eyes as she ran over that short, short list. "But Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape are the only three I think would have a hope of actually managing it, and they have already tried. If we go back to Earth, we'll all be a bloody laughing stock. Here…"

Lucian snorted. "Tell us the troof. What plans you got?" He waited for her to open her mouth again. "No bull here. Give it to us straight."

"Pure bloods, all of us." The looks Gemma gave failed to skip Percy Weasley. "And we're all ambitious—don't try to deny it. Weasley's might take their son back with open arms, but the Malfoys? The Boles?" She snorted a perfect parody of Lucian's. "I don't plan to return."

"An' you want our 'elp?" Lucian narrowed his eyes. "What's in it for us?"

For once in his life, Percy Weasley agreed whole-heatedly with Lucian Bole. He found himself nodding.

Gemma was surprised to find Percy agreeing with Lucian almost as much as Percy himself. "A job, when the four of you come to your senses. I could rise to the top alone, but forging an entirely new power base will take its own work—work I'd rather not do."

"Maybe they won't accept you, but my parents—" Draco froze. It was true that she thought her parents would probably accept a permanently shapechanged son, but she was worried about how they would take a daughter.

"Anyone else?" Gemma asked.

Percy coughed, which got everyone looking at him. "Well, what if we start off helping without sticking our necks out? Feel the water."

"What he said," Lucian said.

Holding on by a thread, or so Gemma thought. "Sure. What I need is to know what everyone's saying. I'm heading downstairs to see the ponies. Someone needs to warn them about the Ministry's normal tricks. The worst thing that could happen, here, is for the Ministry to actually get away with it."

"How long will that take?" Draco asked. "We'll meet up on the seventh floor then."

Gemma cracked a smile and nodded to Draco. Her plan wasn't perfect, but it had a chance of paying high dividends. "Give me half an hour." She stepped out away from the corner and made her way down the hall away from the main entrance.

Not doubting in the slightest that Minerva would invite the wizards of the Ministry past the pony guards, Gemma headed for one of the other ways down. Hogwarts was full of secret passages and ways for an enterprising student to sneak around unseen, and she'd purchased knowledge on most of them.

Star Flare had just arranged for Princess Cadance and Shining Armor's departure to meet with the humans when he spotted the mare looking around confused in the dead-end hallway that he'd appropriated as an impromptu barracks. Surprises were something he wasn't fond of. "Excuse me, miss, but what are—"

"The Ministry! I've come to warn you about them." Gemma's words fell all over themselves. The pony—the first she'd found—was huge. He towered above her in just about every dimension.

The words hadn't surprised Star, he was used to startling things—it was his job to deal with them. "Explain yourself as quickly and precisely as you can."

Honestly, Gemma, you're not selling out your own people, she thought, The Ministry are not exactly friendly to non wizards using wands. She took a calming breath that didn't really help, and started. "The Ministry of Magic are the magic police. If you aren't a wizard, you aren't allowed to do magic and you are dealt with. There's a chance they will attempt to use magic on you to take control of the situation.

"Normally, they'd wipe the recent memories of those they encounter that they think know too much. Please, there have been wars fought back home about this kind of thing."

If it had been a younger foal perhaps, or if Star wasn't still on edge after dealing with King Sombra, he might have spent more time to establish the young mare's story. He eyed Gemma up and down, taking in the school uniform she wore. "Take off your clothes and store them here. We'll head upstairs and warn the Princess and the Captain together. You can tell when these Ministry people are using their magic, right?"

"Y-Yes!" Gemma worked fast to slip out of the robes she'd been wearing. Draco would simply have to get her more, or perhaps it was time to surrender her affiliation to the school completely, or so she thought.

She was barely out of her uniform when the stallion turned about and started marching for the end of the hall leading away from her secret passage. Moving quickly, Gemma couldn't have possibly walked beside the guard in the small confines of the hallway, but they soon left through a door into the main entry hall of the castle.

"Sir?" Firmament asked upon seeing his lieutenant escorting a pony from the barracks.

"Code green, Guardspony."

His blood running cold as ice, Firmament had to adjust himself mentally. "Changelings?"

"Give me the code," Star Flare said.

"Code Green, Sir! Nightmare."

"Bits." Star nodded to Firmament. "Continue Code Green until I return." Code Green, he knew, would add overhead to every interaction by his guards, but with the possibility of wizards messing with memories, it was essential.

Gemma waited until they were walking up the stairs to Hogwarts section of the castle before deciding to lay one of her cards on the table. "Now I know your code word."

"You know one of our challenge-responses. That changes in an hour." Star Flare rose an eyebrow, impressed at the young mare's savvy. "But that was well spotted. The E.U.P. Guard are always looking for smart ponies with keen eyes." Star had opinions on the hiring policy of the Royal Guard, but it wasn't the place to voice that.

"Military?" The thought hadn't occurred to Gemma. Not at all.

"You're not a unicorn, but I saw you doing a fine job in the battle with that little horn you carry. Anypony who can think on their hooves and lay about with magic is more than welcome—though normally only the former is required." They were almost at the landing when Star heard fanfare blasting from below them. His heart soared at the realization.

Gemma almost stumbled over her hooves. "What on Earth was that?"

"The answer to any problems with magic. The Bearers of the Elements might be leaving, but Princess Celestia has arrived."

Ginevra Molly Weasley was starting to get annoyed. Worse than that, she had learned she didn't like sunlight. 'Where this time?' It had been a full day since she'd left Equestria with Peter, and in that time she'd embraced the cause King Sombra had offered—to save the world from Voldemort.

Right now, however, Ginevra floated only an inch above the hot sands of a desert in Australia. It was hot, and despite her form's ability to soak up the light and warmth around her, even the power of a dementor was being challenged by the Gibson Desert. "Because he's not here."

Peter was sweating, but just calling it sweating was an understatement—what he was doing was to sweating as a hurricane was to a light rain. "He's hiding, master. I feel he's somewhere to the north of here."

'Everything is north of here. Congratulations, you've narrowed his location down to most of the planet.' For a second she considered doing something to remind him of his part, but a little part of Ginevra recoiled from the idea. 'Find him—' She paused and tilted her head to the side. 'What should I call you?'

Looking back at himself, then toward his new master again, Peter Pettigrew bowed his head. "Wormtail, master. Can we leave now? I think I have worked out he's in the Americas."

'Wormtail. On the plus side, you can't get further away from him unless he's turned himself into a penguin.' Concentrating, Ginevra drew her darkness closer around herself as if it were a warm cloak on a cold night, the only difference being that it was halfway to boiling—literally. 'Where's the portkey that takes us north? This heat doesn't agree with either of us.'

"I can apparate us." The moment he spoke, Peter felt a cold touch on the back of his neck. Like the chill touch of the creature who's power she'd absorbed, his master drew the very heat from his core. Peter almost felt like rolling on his back and getting his belly rubbed by a dementor if it would cool him this much. Instead, however, he apparated.

For Ginevra, being ripped through the world was something new. Her parents could apparate, but she hadn't learned the magic involved, and shouldn't for many years. When the sickness of being yanked along by what felt like a hook wore off, she was in a shady part of some jungle. 'Teach me how to do that.'

"Before we hunt him, master?" Peter didn't care that he looked like a horse—he'd lived so many years as a rat that it was a clear upgrade. Besides, he had his magic and he had a master. He wanted for nothing but the goal she'd set him.

'I will teach you. His method is less than perfect.'

A shiver of excitement ran down Ginevra's not-spine. Magic was magic, but the magic King Sombra knew was something primal and ancient. 'Please teach me'

The hunger for knowledge he felt in his student warmed Sombra's spirit—a boon, since spirit was all he had. Tethered to Ginevra's minion, he drew strength from the wretch to carry out the lesson. 'Neither you nor I are truly corporeal. Apparating is not required for us to travel.'

Not knowing exactly what continent she was on, Ginevra nonetheless soaked up Sombra's lesson. His form of apparating was less complete teleportation and more moving through objects. Stone and gem deposits were the best, or so it seemed to Ginevra.

First she needed to travel to them, then she could travel as far as she wanted. What interested her was the attention Peter paid to the lesson too. When finally she'd mastered traveling to the bedrock and traveling through it, she found time to probe. 'Wormtail, you can make use of this?'

"I—I think so. Among the Deatheaters, we mastered a method of travel as smoke. It is like how you apparate." Though he hated giving up good information, learning an entirely new mode of transport from his masters thrilled Peter enough to be loose with his tongue. "Watch."

Ginevra had to do more than watch, she had to follow Peter as he turned to smoke and disappeared into the ground itself. It was much easier for her, of course, to become completely incorporeal. She soared down through the dirt and small stone until she found the rock layer far underground.

For Peter, it felt like there was a shark after him, but the small screaming part of his mind that would have been terrified at such a thing drew comfort that he belonged to the shark. Leading the way, he reached deep into the ground and ran. He wasn't prey to the shark, he was a hound. The metaphor fit his mind in a satisfying way. He had masters who he served, and he served them well.

The path was clearer underground. Peter could feel his old master far to the north. The ground above was unimportant, only the path to Voldemort mattered—and like a bloodhound on a scent, he felt the excitement of the chase.

'Where are we?' Ginevra asked. The downside of such travel was it was impossible to talk and impossible to know where you were, but she had quickly learned that Peter knew where he was going, and there was a constant tug that pulled her toward him.

When Peter felt he was close enough, he pulled free of the stone and shot out into his smoke-like form to filter and work through the dirt above. Finally, filtering past roots and leaf-matter, Peter Pettigrew shot from the ground and solidified back into his pony shape.

He could feel the call. Turning his head like the bloodhound he felt himself to be, he pointed his snout toward his masters' quarry.

Like the grim reaper itself, Ginevra emerged from the ground behind Peter. His excitement filled her senses. She could feel something wrong about the forest—something poisoned. 'Find him!'

Author's Notes:

Harry: Don't you want to learn how to cast spell without chanting like Twilight and her kin did?

"I still do, but first thing's first, I'd like not to randomly catch on fire. It might be the most wizard thing ever, but it makes studying in a library difficult."

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Destination

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The train was an odd thing. It wasn't anything like the Hogwarts Express, but yet was at the same time. It was an old-style steam engine, but I could feel such a pull of magic in the locomotive that I had to wonder if it was actually purely magic driven.

Where it differed from the Hogwarts Express was that it had two carriages on it, and it seemed like we were all piling into just one of them. Addera put me down on the step and I trotted inside and looked around.

The first thing that struck me about the train was it had never been designed for humans. All the "chairs" were low and lacked backs, there was room for pegasi to fly above other passengers (which the blue one was taking advantage of), and in all it seemed just right for ponies.

A little unsure if I should pick a spot on my own, I walked slowly toward where the apparent heroes of Equestria were and got nearly halfway there when Fluttershy rushed toward me.

"Do you want some help getting up on the seat? Are you alright walking on your own? I know Twilight wants to talk to you too, but I really want to know everything about you." As she spoke, Fluttershy guided me toward their group and up onto the bench she had been sitting on.

"Excuse me, Addera? If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you about where you're from." Twilight Sparkle was on the other side of the carriage from Fluttershy and me, and seemed intent on drawing Addera to her for a talk.

I was left with Fluttershy. I turned to her and could see her expression brightening like the sun coming out. Done-for, I could see the headlines—Harry Potter talked to death by most adorable creature in existence. "So, uh, Fluttershy? What did you want to know?"

There was a sense as if a million-billion pens all bespelled to copy words down seemed to focus on us. I didn't think it was possible one person—or pony—could give so much focus to another. "I-I think I should start at the start, and please excuse me if I ask anything too personal. A-Are you a colt or a filly?"

Oh, there was plenty of questions I was preparing myself for. What is the nature of magic? Why is the sky blue? How many Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans did it take before you were guaranteed to be sick? (The answer's about 12, or so I've found.) "I'm a boy—colt."

Fluttershy's pure excitement was a perfect match for any attempt I might have managed at embarrassment. "And how old are you?"

"Uh, 12." My previous musing on beans came back to haunt me. Were the two numbers related? From what I'd heard about Arythmancy, all numbers were significant in magic. How many beans could Dumbledore eat safely? Could Addera eat a thousand?

Covering her snout with both forehooves, Fluttershy gasped. "Oh my goodness. You're the same age as Applejack and Rarity's little sisters and their friend. It'll be so ador—Right. Questions. How long do kirin live for?"

"I don't know," I said.

It was as if there was a solar eclipse. Fluttershy's bright smile faded for a moment, then was back full-force. "Silly me. You weren't born a kirin. Can you use your horn like a unicorn can theirs?"

"Not really. Well, definitely nothing like even Hermione can, let alone what I've seen Twilight Sparkle do, but I can use it like a wand. Want to see?" I might not be able to use my horn like a unicorn, but I'm still a wizard! "Err. Are these trains fireproof?"

Fluttershy giggled behind the edge of one wing and shook her head. "Perhaps use magic that doesn't make fire?"

"That should be easier than it is, you know? I don't actually know a lot of fire spells, but somehow I use a lot of magic and fire just happens." I looked around while trying to work out what I could do to start with. Normally I'd start with a simple wand-lighting, but purposefully making light seemed a little too close to making fire. "Do you have something I could make fly?"

Across from us, the pink-on-pink pony reached into her mane with a hoof and held out a cupcake. "Will this do?"

Not wanting to look a gif—Okay, that wasn't as funny a gag as I'd hoped, for the tenth time. Aiming my horn at the offered cupcake, I cast a Locomotion charm and rattled off the activation word. With so much ambient magic, and using all the parts of the spell, I had the cupcake in my control and brought it closer. "Like that."

"Ooooh! Floaty! And you can't even see it glowing!" Pinkie (I just remembered her name) said. I still can't believe she's that pink and named Pinkie.

It was actually nice to have a bit of praise, even if she seemed to have no idea what I was actually doing. "Once I've cast the spell, I can do just about—"

Pinkie leaned over and took a bite of the cupcake.

My focus on the spell shattered and it was dropping to the floor, only to have a pink hoof grab it and shove the remainder in its owner's mouth. To my surprise, however, Pinkie reached into her mane and produced another cupcake and held it out to me.

I cast another Locomotion charm and floated the cupcake closer. "Thanks."

The moment I bit into the frosted top, I'd been sent to a heaven that even the wonderful desserts of Hogwarts could not hope to match. My eyes widened and everything became indistinct as I chewed on the sweetest treat I'd ever had.

As the cupcake melted in my mouth, I could feel the warmth of it spreading throughout my body. It was like lightning had struck my mouth and was now flowing out all over.

I couldn't stop myself. Before I'd even finished gulping down the first mouthful, I was biting into it again. And again. And again. Only when the cupcake was gone could I think properly again. "That was amazing!"

"Would you like to try one of my favorites? It's not for the faint-hearted!" She reached into her mane and produced another. "It's got—"

"Hold up. Is it something really odd?" I asked, looking between Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie. When the former winced and the latter seemed to smile even more, I couldn't stop grinning too. "We've got these jelly-beans, you see. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. You name it, from ear-wax to praline, slug to caramel. If you're lucky, you can have half a dozen before you feel sick. Don't tell me what's in this."

Time to be a wizard! I cast a Locomotion charm that was almost second nature now and floated the cupcake over. It smelled just as sweet and delicious as the last one. I opened my mouth and took a bite. Chilli, lime, and malt-chocolate milk. It was akin to grabbing three good Bertie Bott's and shoving them in my mouth at the same time.

The fiery heat of the chili, I could tell, should be making steam come out my ears. It was the first spicy thing I'd had since becoming a kirin, and I loved it! The second cupcake, to me at least, was even better than the first (even if the lime made it a little odd).

"Chili, lime, and chocolate malt milk?" I asked when I was done.

Five ponies were staring at me with utterly shocked expressions, but Pinkie Pie was all smiles. "I know! They have just the right balance of heat, bitter, and smooth. I've got some more!" She pulled out two more of the cupcakes and passed me one—waiting for me to cast a Locomotion charm again.

We sat and discussed cupcake flavors for what felt like the entire morning. Lunch passed at some point, but for some reason I wasn't really hungry. All the time, Addera was talking quietly with Twilight Sparkle about something.

"Oh. Oh! Come over here and you can see Canterlot!" Pinkie Pie seemed to be excitement and energy incarnate. She rushed over to the left side of the train and stuck her face up against the glass.

I wasn't quite as fast as Pinkie, but I jumped down and walked over to where she was standing and jumped so my forelegs were braced against the wall just under the window. Outside, the countryside was smooth grassland and farms as far as you could see in one direction (behind us) and led to a mountain ahead. "Where's this Canterlot?"

Pinkie reached her hoof under my chin and lifted—forcing me to look up. And up. And up.

"Holy—" I managed to keep from saying something rude, but only just. There was a city literally stuck to the side of a mountain. It looked like it'd need all the magic in Hogwarts a hundred times over just to exist. "Is that where the kirin are?"

"No, silly. That's Canterlot—the capital of Equestria." Pinkie Pie gestured up at the layered disks that held a castle and (apparently) a city practically in mid-air. "Hey, Twilight, are we stopping in Canterlot?!"

Her shout had me clamping my ears down.

"No, Pinkie. I asked them to drop us at Ponyville and wait for where we're going next," Twilight Sparkle said.

"Ooooh. Well, I guess we're not going to Canterlot, but you get to see Ponyville!" Pinkie Pie pointed toward the horizon and the edge of the massive mountain Canterlot was built onto. "It's just around that corner."

Addera slithered up beside me and looked out and up. "Is that really a city up there, Harry Potter?"

"I guess. Pinkie and Twilight said it is." For a moment I wondered if they'd take offense at me using their first names. Adults—human adults—generally didn't like that. When no obvious reprisal came, I figured it might be alright to continue like that. "I'd like to see it once I have my fire problem under control."

"Then we shall. I'd like to see it too. Wizards, I understand, hide far too much. There is much beauty, Harry Potter, in the things magic can do, but wizards and witches hide it and keep it to themselves." Addera's hoof rubbed behind one of my ears and I found myself leaning into it a little.

A bark drew all our attention to Hedwig—who was sitting calmly at the other end of the car. She turned toward the window and barked again. While everyone else looked at her, I turned to look out the window. "Is that another owl?" I asked.

Addera slithered closer, but quickly backed up when the owl suddenly looked terrified. "I'll leave this to you, Harry Potter."

Trotting to the back of the carriage (where the owl was keeping pace with the train), I jumped up on the seat only to see glowing purple magic unfasten the window and pull it down.

The wind of the train's passage rushed inside—bringing with it a screech owl. Fluffing its feathers, the owl looked up at me from the bench it had landed on, and let out the most horrid scream. Then the owl lifted one leg up to show it had hold of a letter.

I managed to grab the letter with my teeth before the silly owl let go of it, which was when Twilight closed the window with her magic again. Carefully using my mouth and a hoof, I managed to unfold the letter.

Harry! Where'd you go? Everything's gone crazy at the school. First some Ministry wizards arrived, and then some Guardpony announced "the royal princess" and the biggest pony I've ever seen walked inside.
Hermione says there was so much magic coming from her horn that she probably could have picked up the whole school and juggled it. I reckon she's daft—they might look bigger, but no one has that much magic power. Not even Dumbledore.
Anyway, it looks like they want us all to go through the portal as soon as we can. Students at least. Why'd you run off? Don't want to go back to that muggle family? Can't blame you.
I borrowed Percy's owl to send you this message so you can send Ginny back to us. Mumd have a fit…. Well, she'll have a fit anyway, but can you please send her back?
—Ron

"What's it say?" Twilight asked.

"They want me to send Ginny back so Ron and his brothers can take her home to their parents." And I would, but I needed to let her know that first. "I need to tell her."

Twilight looked around, then back at her friends (who all shrugged). "You'll excuse me for asking, but, uh, who's Ginny?"

I heard Addera explain to Twilight while I lifted Ginny out of our pack along with the ballpoint pen I'd borrowed. Using spells was so easy in Equestria, and no one tried to tell me I couldn't. Back to Addera's comment from before, I guess. With a few Locomotion charms cast, I had the diary and the pen well under my control.

Sorry I haven't spoken earlier.

Harry! It's okay. I'm still recovering from what I did to Percy. I wouldn't have been able to do that if you hadn't given me so much energy. What's going on?

We left the school. Me and Addera. Twilight, she's one of the hero ponies, said she'd help us find the kirins here so I can ask them how to keep my cool. Turns out, they might have a way back

Back up! There's a way home?!

Alright. I winced.

Sorry. I wasn't thinking. I should have asked before leaving with you.

I

No more words came up, so I waited for her.

I asked you to keep me close. It's no one's fault, Harry. They're really going home?

I still didn't ask. And it seems that way. I'll send you back to Ron with Hedwig.

You assume I want you to send me back.

As I stared at the page, a big line appeared through what she'd written.

Harry, I need to go home. I just can't

You want to go home to your parents?

My question hovered there for barely a moment before her answer came.

Yes. Sorry Harry.

So it'd just be me, Addera, and Hedwig. I let out a little sigh and tried to think of what to say. What could I say? I might not ever see her again.

I'll miss you.

Using my Locomotion charm on the diary, I started to fold it closed. She wasn't even a girl anymore. I knew I'd start feeling stuff about girls soon—everyone said so—but she wasn't a girl.

Wait!

I stopped closing the diary and opened it again as more words started to appear.

If I can find a way back, I will. I need to see Mum and Dad again, but I'm going to tell them I want to come back. Someone will probably come looking for you eventually. I'll get them to bring me. Or you can send Hedwig to get me. She's a smart owl.

In tiny print four words appeared.

I'll miss you too.

These aren't tears and I'm not crying. I closed the diary fully this time and found a piece of string in my bag to tie it up with. (Locomotion charms are the best.) Passing it to Hedwig, I let out a bit of a wheeze. "Can you take this to Ron?"

Hedwig's bark meant more to me than words. Confidence and surety radiated out. I reached out a hoof and gently ran it down her back. It earned me some gentle preening—her beak would have been scary to anyone whose skin wasn't covered in impenetrable scales. "Will you be able to find her again, if she went back to Earth and got back here?"

She whistled in response and leaned against my hoof that was doing a number on her neck.

"Good. Now, make sure Ron gives you something to eat. You know how to bug him until he does." I held out the diary to her, which she promptly grasped with one claw. "Find me as soon as you can, okay?"

I closed my eyes and let her whistle and rub her beak against the bridge of my nose. Not wanting to watch, I kept them closed as she turned and tapped her beak on the glass. Twilight must have opened it, because a moment later I felt her going further away from me.

"She'll be back as soon as she can, Harry Potter. Hedwig will not leave you alone for long." Addera's hooves scooped me up and hugged me.

It was such a casual gesture between us that I didn't think too much about it and stuffed my snout against her chest. She smelled of nothing less than safety and warmth. She smelled like a cozy night in bed and waking up to the dawn. "Thanks."

The train lurched, and if I weren't in Addera's arms I'd probably have stumbled. Pulling to the left meant that everything in the car wanted to go right. The train had tilted slightly into the corner, but it was moving fast enough that I was amazed it held to the tracks at all.

The sound of the train got louder for a moment as a pony opened the door at the front of the car. I focused on him. He looked like he'd been working hard doing something. His white coat was slick and his chest seemed to be heaving. "Next stop is Ponyville. Ponyville is the next stop." He walked closer to us and looked to Twilight. "We'll have to return to Canterlot, ma'am. I'll send another train down as soon as we reach there."

"What's wrong with this one?" Twilight asked.

"The race to get you to the north was not kind to Elegance. She's an older engine, and shouldn't have been rushing around—but she was the only one fully steamed up." The stallion sounded both a little sad and a little worried. Worried for the locomotive, or worried Twilight would tell him to wait?

"Oh. Okay. We'll only be in Ponyville for a day or two, will you be able to get somepony to bring another train in time?"

The stallion's face brightened, and he stood a little taller. "In a day? Ma'am, that'll be a piece of cake for the Friendship Express!"

To say this was different to how I was used to things working was an understatement. This just wasn't how things worked back home, and it was absolutely wonderful.

The beast roared, as dragons are wont to do. It reared up to be taller than anything around it, opened its jaws even wider, and froze at the hand touching its side.

"It's alright, Norbert. That's Whistlewing. Come on, boy, calm down. You don't have to defend me against everything that comes near. Whistlewing's a friendly sort, so long as you feed her." Charles Weasley patted the flank of the dragon to calm it down, but Norbert was not one to be completely at ease around other dragons.

"Oi! Whistlewing! Catch!" Drawing his wand out with one hand, Charlie skillfully pulled a cube of salted meat from a pocket and tossed it. With focus born of much practice with the spell, he flicked his wand through a little twirl and a golden blob of magic shot out and engulfed the tiny cube. Mid-air, the piece of meat grew and grew and grew to resemble the deer haunch he'd carved it from originally.

It was one of the simpler food magics, and it only worked on reasonably fresh meat, but it was the only way one wizard could keep enough meat on hand to pacify dragons.

"How you doing, girl?" With Whistlewing ripping into the haunch of venison, Charlie knew it was safe to approach her. Any truly wild dragon would still have ripped him apart, but not only did Charlie have a way with the beasts, he'd been a peripheral part of Whistlewing's life since she'd been hatched. "How's that scar healing?"

Running his hand along the dragon's flank, Charlie found the puckered wound by feel only because he kept his eyes on the front end of Whistlewing. He'd learned very quickly that you could trust a dragon to do only one thing—be unpredictable. The only way to know what a dragon was going to do was to watch what they were thinking, and it had taken him years to build his empathy with the creatures to tell that just by looking at their heads.

Whistlewing was as calm as a dragon could be. She knew the human—knew that it'd give her food—which was why she didn't just bite its head off. Besides, she'd tasted human and found it to be rather bland. She liked the meat this human gave her, so in her own way she liked this human.

What Whistlewing didn't like was this human touching her sore spot. When his hand touched the puckered edge of the old scar, she turned her head to snap at him—maybe snap him in half—but he was already taking his hand back.

Fixing her eyes on the human's, Whistlewing blew a snort of smoke at him—a warning—Don't touch me there again.

"Still tender? Let me get the cream." Reaching into his cut-down robes, Charlie fumbled around in his magically-enhanced pockets for what he was after, and pulled out a large pot of horrid-smelling gunk. It wasn't that it smelled horrid with the lid on, but both Charlie and Whistlewing knew the stuff smelled bad—as did any creature that knew of ointments. It was a foundation of medicine that the worse something tasted or smelled, the better it worked.

Charlie's ointment worked well enough that Whistlewing remembered it and was far more willing to put up with him touching her just to have it on her old wound. It helped that she liked the smell too.

Whistlewing relaxed a little more as the numbing-soothing feeling spread through her old wound. Her mind tickled over the fact there was two reasons she put up with this human. Stretching her head out to him, she nuzzled his chest and sneezed.

Familiar with a dragon showing affection, Charlie did nothing to wipe Whistlewing's mucus from his robe—if a dragon was predisposed to mark you, it was less likely to eat you. "That's better, isn't it?"

The reply almost knocked Charlie off his feet. Whistlewing shoved her snout toward the pocket he kept the meat cubes in, the lack of pain in her side turning the dragon's mood to capricious playfulness.

"Alright. You do look a bit skinny. One more won't hurt you." Charlie reached into the pocket with all the cubes of meat—magically enchanted as it was to keep its contents safe—and plucked one out. The moment it left the safety of his pocket, Whistlewing could smell it. "Hold up. You get a tiny bit now or a whole hunk if you wait just—"

It was a very simple motion for a dragon the size of Whistlewing. She pushed Charlie and he fell down on his back. Leaning over him, she was about to bite at his hand to get what it hid when a gout of flame seared the air above her.

Norbert had had enough. The other dragon might be bigger than him, and Charlie might have told him to back off, but he was fairly sure Whistlewing was about to eat Charlie, and Norbert didn't want that. His first gust of flame had been to warm up his throat. Now he stepped forward and eyed Whistlewing, preparing the main event.

Whistlewing reared up at the sight of an aggressive dragon and readied her own breath. Eyes narrowing to defend her face from the flame she would produce, she was distracted at the last moment by movement.

"You're both being idiots. I'm okay, Norbert." Charlie brushed himself down and quickly worked the food restoration spell on the cube. "Here's your meal, Whistlewing. You two will be the death of me one day. You're worse than me brothers."

It was a good rule of thumb that Charlie had discovered that a dragon wouldn't breathe fire if it had a mouthful of a food. There was a single exception to this and it related to the idiocy of trying to raid a dragon's nest—Charlie wasn't that much of an idiot.

Producing a second cube and bespelling it into a full haunch, Charlie tossed it to Norbert. He sat back down and pulled a sandwich out of a different pocket, and started eating. He'd only gotten his pockets mixed up once, but one afternoon having had the saltiest tartare was more than enough for him.

Sitting down on a rocky, sparsely grassed hilltop in Romania, with a pair of dragons that would as soon rip him apart as the venison in their claws if they were hungry, Charles Weasley felt his lucky charm tingle.

"What'n the nine hells—?" Charlie was faster to move now than he'd been with Whistlewing about to eat his arm. The crystal hanging from the chain at his throat had gone from tingling, to warm, to searing-hot in seconds.

Clenching his teeth at the pain, Charlie ripped the chain from around his neck and tossed it away from himself and the dragons. Rather than focus on their meals, both creatures watched with him as the crystal hit the grass some ten yards away before exploding.

Unlike a good, old-fashioned explosion (like with gunpowder or other such chemicals), the crystal exploded magically. One moment it was a neutral part of the world's matrix of magic, the next it was being supercharged by magic pouring into it. That magic managed to hold its shape in the tiny crystal for nearly five seconds before it needed to get out rapidly.

Rapidly, when applied to expulsions of magic, is a term that is just as exciting—if not more so—than when applied to such compositions as blackpowder, guncotton, and things with more nitrogen than sense. But magic was tied to the reality of another world far more intrinsically than Earth. Instead of exploding out, it exploded through.

It felt to Charlie as if all the magic in the world had rushed toward the point before him before a million times more came rushing back. He stared at a blue shape in the air that looked nothing so much as a rip in the air itself. Like magic had torn its way through the world and into another.

The rip was small, barely coming higher than Charlie's chest. He took a few steps toward the rip and could already feel waves of magic washing in and out of it like the tide.

"Well, you don't see that every day." Dusting himself off and making sure he hadn't actually broken anything or hurt himself, Charlie walked closer to the rip to take a look at it.

At each flank of the human, a dragon walked. Both Norbert and Whistlewing were fascinated by the rip. Each had felt a little under the weather for several days, and the rift stopped that—completely reversed it and went back the other way a little.

Whistlewing was the first to break. Her back legs bunching, she pounced forward and dove head first into the rip.

Charlie shouted wordlessly, not the least of which because Whistlewing was stuck. "You have got to be bloody kidding me? You stupid dragon!" Stomping up to the squirming dragon's rump, Charlie grabbed onto her tail—innately careful of the sharp, blade-like ridges down her back. Leaning backwards with every fiber of his being he could manage, Charlie was nonetheless surprised when instead of managing to pull the 900 lbs of dragon out of the rip, she pulled him through it when one of her tail-spines caught on his robes.

The disorientation of being tugged through the non-space that divided worlds was brief but nauseating. Charlie thought he was fine for a moment until the physics and rules of this new world got its hands on him and pulled down.

"What the bl—?" Charlie could feel the pull of gravity downward and the rush of air going up—though he knew the last one was all backwards because of his point of view.

A wizard of Charlie's profession and ruggedness would not be caught flat-footed by a mere high-altitude drop with no warning. Squirming around in the air, Charlie stuck a hand into an outer-top pocket on his robe and closed his fingers around a wooden shaft.

The stick was almost two inches across and polished smooth by use. Pulling, Charlie drew more and more of the shaft from his pocket until his whole broom was free of his robes. Swinging the broom around, Charlie got it under him just as the ground below was rushing up.

It was just about then that Charlie realized that the ground wasn't a rolling, soft grassy hill that was reaching toward him—it was a craggy mountain that, when he looked a little closer, had actual lava flowing down from the caldera atop it.

Jamming his feet into the stirrups and willing his broom to life, Charlie felt magic rush into it. "Up!"

His momentum was arrested by the broom as it tried to haul him up, but even as it slowed his fall to nothing, Charlie could feel his legs getting far too warm. The sound of crackling wood, sulfur, and something burning caught in Charlie's nose as the broom lost its mojo.

Red and simmering lava below him seemed impossibly close, but just as the last of his broom's upward momentum faded, something grabbed Charlie by the back and pulled him away from a well-done fate. Angling his head to look upward, Charlie watched as Norbert pumped his wings as hard as the adolescent dragon had ever pumped them. "Good boy, Norbert!"

Norbert wasn't the smartest of dragons, but when the human he liked was falling—and Norbert knew this human couldn't fly so well without his stick—he knew something was up. Now he was struggling to keep himself in the air while carrying the human away from the warm, warm ground.

By the time Norbert let go of him, Charlie was ready to sing the dragon's praises. The claws wrapped around his hip and shoulders released and Charlie fell just two feet onto actual soft ground.

Caught between a desire to kiss the ground and kiss Norbert, Charlie opted to instead show the dragon how much he appreciated having his life saved. "You are going to get so much venison you won't be able to walk without burping up antlers. C'mere you great guy."

As Charlie wrapped his arms around Norbert, he was aware of the sound of footsteps-that-were-too-heavy-to-be-human approaching. He felt Norbert tense up under him, and slowly let go and turned—not the least of which to let Norbert move if something was going to attack.

"Huh. Never seen a dragon like that before. Hey, new guy, what's with the pet?"

Charlie looked up at the oddly proportioned dragons that stood over him and had the distinct impression they were talking to Norbert and not him. "Bloody hell…"

Author's Notes:

Harry: Why don't you ask these magical ponies if they can cure your eyesight with their magic?

"Wouldn't that be the same kind of thing as the transfiguration magic that doesn't work on me anymore? It's a good idea, though, I might have to do that—if I can remember. There's a lot of stuff going on right now... Kinda." Harry let out a sigh. "Sorry, just thinking about that made me think about going back to England, and I'm not exactly into that idea right now."

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Lab

Letter From Home

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Ponyville was the oddest place. It was like if you got an outer suburb of London, stretched it out, and then made each house look about two-hundred years out of date. Not like old, but just old-style. Wooden houses with thatched roofs.

What was amazing was ponies. Ponies everywhere. None of them looked like me, Addera, or even the others from school—except Percy, that is. Well, the other way around I guess. Percy looks like them. They don't have the crystal bodies or anything, but there's tons of unicorns and pegasi.

Walking through the town called Ponyville, I couldn't help but notice everyone turning and looking at us. Admittedly, Addera was getting most of the looks, but I noticed a few foals staring my way.

"Hey! Twilight!" a young female voice called.

My ears, as always, pointed the way for me and I turned my head to see three fillies a little bigger than me galloping over as fast as their legs could carry them. One, the one who'd called out, was bright yellow with red hair and a pink bow in it.

"Twilight! Do you have a book on—" She froze, staring at me. "Uh…"

"Apple Bloom, this is Harry Potter and Addera." Twilight's voice was patient, like I thought McGonagall would be under the circumstances. She gestured to me and Addera. "Harry, Addera, this is Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle."

"Hi Harry Potter! Hi A—" Scootaloo (a young orange pegasus) said, but when she seemed to turn her attention to Addera, she stopped. "S-S-Snake!"

"Hold it!" Twilight had activated her magic and used it to make a net that caught the three fillies before they could get away. "I'm not putting up with the same craziness that happened with Zecora again. All three of you, behave. This is Addera, and she's a nice pony."

"Basilisk, actually, Twilight Sparkle. But I am trying to be nice." Addera lowered her stance and reached a hoof out to the foals. "I promise I'll not eat you if you shake my hoof."

One yellow, one orange, and one white hoof jutted out to shake Addera's.

"S-Sorry. We just kinda—"

"—we might have overreacted."

"Just a little."

It was kinda cute the way they finished each other's thoughts. It reminded me of Fred and George a little. Though, I could probably keep these three apart even without my glasses on.

Addera let loose a little chuckle that was more like a hiss—I think she laughed in parseltongue. "That's alright. So long as you promise to remember the next time something comes along that doesn't look like a pony."

Once all three had nodded to Addera, Twilight cleared her throat. "Now, what was it you girls needed?"

"Oh!" Apple Bloom bounced a few times in place excitedly. "Spike said you had a book on cutie marks, but it's on the top shelf in the library, and even his ladder didn't get him high enough to lift it down for us."

"And Spike said I couldn't use my magic," Sweetie Belle said. "I still think I could have."

"You could have lifted me up and I could have grabbed it," Scootaloo said.

"Exactly!" Sweetie Belle flicked her mane to one side—which accomplished nothing given her curls. "So, can you please get down Cutie Marks and You from the top shelf for us, Twilight?"

"Of course I can, girls," Twilight said, earning a cheer from the three. "But why didn't you just ask anypony else for help? I'm sure Lyra or Minuette would have lifted it down in a heartbeat." Thankfully, Twilight herded the three fillies to move.

"Why didn't we think of that?" Scootaloo asked.

"I like these ponies, Harry Potter. They're much less…" Addera screwed her snout up for a moment. —They have less evil in them. They might not have any.—

Her use of parseltongue didn't surprise me, but it did make my ears twitch to catch it. "Yeah. But they seemed to know what to do with it, didn't they?" I nodded vaguely in the direction we'd come. "What with Sombra back there and all. Almost makes me wish they'd been around when Voldemort was doing his thing. They wouldn't have taken any guff from him either."

"There it is," Twilight Sparkle said while gesturing with a hoof at a tree. "The Golden Oak Library. The book we need is in there. Come on!"

We picked up the pace, but as we reached the tree (that obviously had some kind of building built inside it somehow) I stopped. "I can't go in there. Not until I have this all under control. What if I get angry at something?"

Twilight looked at me with a steady and curious expression. "Do you feel angry at something?" When I shook my head, she smiled brightly. "Then please come inside. You shouldn't have to wait around out here for this."

"Come on, Harry Potter," Apple Bloom said. "It's safe inside. I promise!"

I was defeated by her genuine openness and smile. How was I meant to be a mighty wizard if I couldn't stand up against a few ponies? Slumping my shoulders, I walked into the amazing tree house library.

There was a set of stairs leading up on my right and more leading down on my left, but the entire middle of the huge tree was a big room lined almost all the way around by shelves stuffed with books. There was a small bed high on one wall with its own little set of stairs leading up to it, and standing in the middle of the room was what looked like a wingless drake.

"Oh, Twilight, you're back! How was everypony in Canterlot?" Of course the drake spoke. Why shouldn't a creature that vaguely resembled an upright dragon speak and not be a monster that wants to rip my limbs off?

Twilight looked ready to explode with excitement. "You should have seen it, Spike! We went to the Crystal Empire and there's a lot of new ponies there, and some from another world, and then we defeated King Sombra, and—"

"Twilight!" Spike (his name apparently) rushed forward and produced a brown paper bag and gave it to Twilight to puff into. "Calm down and tell me slowly."

"But I can't!" Twilight's horn flared to life and teleported the bag somewhere else. "We need to find—" She paused. "We need to find…"

"Twilight?" I asked.

"You're better off letting her ride this out. She gets just like this when she can't remember where she saw something." Spike walked up to me and stuck out a hand. "Hi. I'm Spike."

I lifted a hoof and stuck it in his hand to shake. "Harry Potter," I said. "Are you sure she's alright?" As I spoke, books began to hurl themselves from shelves and at Twilight. Her magic was flaring bright and she seemed to only glimpse at each book as it flashed by her.

"This? Yeah, this is normal. If she doesn't find what she was looking for in an hour, though, that could be a proble—" Spike seemed to freeze and tilt his head back. "Huh, snake pony. Hi! I'm Spike!"

Addera leaned down and shook Spike's hand with her hoof. "I am Addera, Spike. I am also a basilisk, though there has been some changes to my scales recently. May I inquire as to yourself?" It was more formal than I'd ever heard her be in my—okay, the week or so that I've known her.

"I'm a dragon, but only a baby one for now." A dragon. Well, it was a good guess, but I didn't think he'd actually be a dragon. "Oh! Can you help get a book down for me? Some friends have been wanting it all day." He was looking up at Addera as if I wasn't a fully capable wizard!

On cue, the three fillies ran up and mobbed around Addera.

While she was distracted, I asked Spike, "Which book?"

He looked nervous, eyes flicking toward Addera then back to me, but pointed to one laying down flat on a high shelf. "Uh, that one. Are you sure you can—?"

Of course, I wasn't going to let him finish asking that question. This was about pride, now. I pointed my horn up at the book and cast a simple Locomotion charm. Not having used one for the last hour or two, it was easy to focus on it and heft the book upward and then pull it toward me.

The only trouble now was I had a big, slow-moving book while Twilight had lots of much faster ones. Floating it to the end of the shelves, I brought it down so that Spike could catch it out of the air.

"Alright! That's pretty cool. What was with the shouting before it?" Spike flipped to the back of the book to reveal the catalog card.

"Uh, that was the spell. It's called a Locomotion charm. It lets a wizard pick up and move things at a distance. What with losing my hands, I kinda have to use it to do everything now." I had to jump to the side as a book rapidly flew past my ear a little too close for comfort.

"There you go, girls, now just be sure to bring it back within two weeks." Passing the book over, Spike watched as I had to jump aside again. "Yeah, we should go upstairs. Once she starts this it's best to stay out of the way."

When he led the way upstairs, the thrumming sense of magic in the air decreased. I hadn't realized it'd even been affecting me. "Does she do this often?"

The room above the main library was somewhat like a kitchen with a large table to one side and a big, wood-burning stove—it was as if a kitchen and a dining room were combined.

"Only when she can't remember what book something was from. She doesn't stop until she's read everything or found what she needs." Spike marched over to the stove and climbed up on a conveniently placed stool. "You two hungry?"

"A little, Spike the dragon. What do you cook here?" Addera slithered past me and over to the stove to rear up beside Spike. "And do you need assistance?"

While they talked, I explored the room. This was nothing like the castle that was growing under Hogwarts, but a lot more like the train. Everything was sized for ponies and shaped for them too. Though they were a bit larger than I could easily get onto, it wasn't so far that I couldn't jump to get onto one of the kitchen chairs that sat around a table.

Then I felt her. It was like a ray of sun was hitting me after a cold, London winter. Warmth and excitement built, and I turned my head to look at one of the nearest windows and saw Hedwig sitting on a railing just outside.

I jumped off the chair and ran over to the window as quick as I could. There was no latch on it, so when I pushed at the window it opened right out—and Hedwig jumped through the gap with an excited bark. "It's good to see you again, girl. Did you deliver Ginny to Ron?"

Hedwig's soft whistle reassured me more than words could. I could feel her telling me she'd delivered it properly, and I got the hint there was more. She held out one talon and dropped a note on the windowsill.

"What's it say?" As I spoke, I prepared the magic for a quick Locomotion charm and cast it on the heel of my question.

Harry Potter. You will return to Hogwarts this instant! It's unbelievably dangerous just running away like this, and in the middle of all this mess and everything! I was lucky to get Hedwig some food from the kitchen before I sent her back with my letter—there's Ministry wizards and witches arguing all over the place. Some are demanding that everyone leave Hogwarts so they can destroy it (something about letting valuable information falling into enemy hands, not that the ponies have hands), others are trying to say we should Obliviate every pony and then convince them that they're our pets, and other things that are even worse.
Then you have the princess that arrived—who everyone says is more powerful than any wizard ever—who says that all of us have to leave and never come back.
If it wasn't for Gemma Farley (I know, it's insane to think about) and some of the other prefects getting Princess Cadance and Headmistress McGonagall to work together, things would have exploded!
Well, exploded more than normal. I'm going through the portal tomorrow, do try to get back before things get too bad.
—Hermione Granger
PS: Ron here. Sorry, Hermione got hold of the letter before I could get it away from her. Everything's just as crazy as she said, though. Do what you have to, Harry.

Okay, so things were going about as normal as ever. Or not. What would happen if they closed the portal and left? Would they leave me behind or send people to find me? Well, now I was just another pony in a whole nation of them, but of course they could use spells to find me.

I didn't know the right spells to hide me from that kinda magic, and I couldn't exactly turn nirik and eat their charms at this range. Alright. So they'll be able to find me using magic, but that'll mean it's someone from the school who'll come looking for me.

This was all stuff I couldn't do anything about. If someone came to find me, they would come regardless of what I do. I blew a little snort out and tried to focus more on the now.

Turning sideways to the window, I offered Hedwig my back. "I'm glad you're back, Hedwig. I was actually starting to worry about you."

Hedwig hopped the short distance to my back and ruffled her feathers with a soft whistle. She was hungry and tired, and her left wing needed a good rubbing. How I knew that was probably part of the whole familiar thing.

Ginevra Molly Weasley had spent a full day hunting the snake. Every time she thought she'd been close, it had been yet another oddly twisted charm that mimicked its magical appearance. She was getting annoyed now that it was taking so long.

'Patience. We have time, he does not.'

"But I want to do this. He's done so many bad things—killed so many. He deserves to die sooner than later." Looking about, Ginevra added the latest charm to her list of sources to ignore.

"M-Master." Despite having led Ginevra all the way to the right forest, Peter Pettigrew wanted nothing more than to help her and keep helping her. "Y-You have the magic of a dementor. If he has any happy memories at all, you'll be able to sense him."

"You think he'll have any happy thoughts?" Despite her question, Ginevra focused on all the magic Sombra had given her. There was a lot to the dark magic she'd taken on, and it all hungered for life.

Peter nodded quickly. "Everyone has happy thoughts. When you don't have them anymore, they say, that's how a dementor kills you. They suck out everything happy and leave you an empty husk." No sooner had he spoken than he felt like something had walked over his grave. Magic—dark and powerful—was seeking living things.

Discarding Peter's tiny seed of happiness, Ginevra quested outward. Tiny prickles here and there were the happiness of the small things living in the forest. A hare, a fox, a lynx… Stranger things—magical beasts—but there were too many.

She shook her head and stopped looking. She needed more than this. Just feeling the size of each things' desire was not enough, she needed quality.

Ginevra focused back on Peter. His happiness—the only moment of brightness he had—was for her. It shouldn't have been a surprise since she'd personally forced this upon him, but to see the sole focus of his world be her was still amazing.

What looking at Peter gave her, however, was a sense for how a complex mind finds things joyful. Stretching her senses back out, Ginevra looked for that more intricate and focused pattern.

Too many. Ginevra discovered a family of forest gnomes with many happy moments—and filtered them out. One by one she discarded the gnomes, then a troll, and finally she found something odd—something that shouldn't be.

The mind was slippery, but focused, and it tried to escape her magic, but she was easily able to find it again. "Did Voldemort have an affinity for snakes?"

"Y-Yes! He's a parseltongue!" Once again Peter Pettigrew found pure delight in helping his master. "And his dark mark was a serpent."

"Then I have him." Reaching out one spectral hand, Ginevra brushed Peter's mane. The touch burned a streak of white through the hair, but he was too ecstatic to notice. "I have his scent, King Sombra. It won't be long now."

'Your resourcefulness surprises me more and more. Find him, Ginevra. Find him, so we can make him pay for what he's done to your world.'

Harry's parents, Neville's too, lots of muggles, and almost as many wizards stood at Ginevra's back, or so she felt. With the magic of a dementor at her disposal, she glided across the forest floor while Peter galloped at her side. She barely noticed him—she was hunting.

She didn't apparate, nor did she try the special movement Sombra had taught her—the former she didn't know and the latter was too imprecise. The forest was alive for Ginevra. She could taste every happy thing the creatures around her felt, and it all gave her strength—the strength to hunt.

"I see something! A big snake, master!" Pony instinctive fear of snakes warred with Peter's desire to obey and support his master. Of course, those instincts were no match for dark magic and a deep-seated need to hide in the shadow of someone powerful.

Ginevra's attention narrowed on the reptile. It was horridly out of place in a European forest. "At last."

Nagini had known something was hunting her with the presence that all animals knew when a predator was on the chase. Seeing the creature chasing her Nagini felt the touch of the spirit she protected. Dementor.

Along with the name of it came what it could do. Nagini felt real terror flood her body with fight or flight, and from what she'd learned the former wouldn't work at all. Her venom wouldn't work, nor could she squeeze the nightmarish creature to death.

While snakes had some quite fast movement, her stamina wouldn't last forever. Nagini felt her terror change to acceptance. She wouldn't outrun the dementor chasing her, so instead she turned.

Peter panicked as Nagini turned on them, hiding behind his master. His master herself didn't slow at all, and approached the snake as if it were no more than a fallen child.

"You're not Voldemort, but he's here." Ginevra was confused at the snake's presence. It was what she'd felt, but it was acting very unsnake-like. "Where is he?!"

'Stop. All of you stop.' Sombra felt a new terror nearby. The faint hint of Voldemort had grown with that fear. 'You remember me, don't you? Ginevra, lend him a little of your strength so he can speak. I wish an answer before we continue.'

The request surprised Ginevra. She had no idea exactly how to do what Sombra'd asked, but trusted him enough to try it. Magic, now, was visible in strands and threads all around her. Ginevra could spin off small threads of it and use it to feed spells or abilities, but now she wrapped some up into a little ball and tossed it into the air before her.

Tom Riddle, A.K.A. Lord Voldemort, had barely been capable of conscious thought. He'd jumped from creature to creature until he found Nagini, and discovered in her a kindred spirit. Nurtured within her, he was nonetheless neither gaining nor losing power—and that was frustrating.

There were plans that Voldemort wanted to unfurl and explore, but the one being he'd never expected to encounter again was King Sombra, nor had he expected to be given shreds of dark magic by a dementor that looked decidedly female.

Nonetheless, Voldemort devoured the magic and felt clarity and strength flood him. Nagini, my dear, please allow me to— His thought got no further before she was already offering him control. "King Sombra." Despite his calm and steady voice, Voldemort felt real fear.

'I have such questions for you, but there is only one I need answered.' Sombra's mental voice was deeper and more resonant than ever. He was functionally immortal of spirit so long as the horcrux anchored him. 'How do I make a horcrux?'

"Draco Lucius Malfoy?" Looking around the common room of Slitherin house, Jenny Sparks narrowed her eyes as she looked over the ponies. "Come on. I know one of you's Lord Malfoy's son. You're going to be first out of here. The sooner you step forward, the sooner you get back and get this whole mess undone."

Draco wasn't stupid. She'd heard what Minerva McGonagall had said regarding the magic that'd changed them. This wasn't a spell to be undone or bypassed. What had made Malfoy a filly was already inside her before she was even born.

"Draco's already gone through."

Jenny Sparks rounded on the pony who'd spoke. "Who're you?"

"I," Lucian Bole said as he stood up, "Am prefect Lucian Bole, ma'am. And I'm tellin' you, Draco's not here." It hadn't taken a huge leap of insight for Lucian to see the terror on Draco's face when the Ministry witch had asked for her.

"Don't be daft, Bole. Ma'am, that's Draco over there." Gregory Goyle had had enough of playing pony games and wanted to go home. He'd been prepared to wait for his chance to slip through the portal, but when opportunity presented itself, he stepped forward.

It felt like betrayal, but the insights into his former best friends' characters Draco had gained were clear enough for her to realize that Gregory Goyle just wasn't empathic enough to pick up on Draco's fear as well as Lucian had. Despite her knowing it was a character flaw, Draco would work out some way to punish Gregory regardless.

Draco had no more time to ponder things. The witch stomped over to where Draco sat on a couch chair and grabbed her by the ear. "Hey! Let go!"

Jenny was so surprised at the feminine voice that she did as its owner said. She'd heard the headmistress talk at length about all the strangeness, and honestly didn't care anymore. "You, the snitch. Pick someone else and drag young Draco out of here for me."

Watching as Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe dragged Draco Malfoy from the room, Lucian Bole felt furious. "Helena, let's go. Come with me." He got up and stalked for the door that would lead through a secret passage and come out by the lake.

Helena Fowley stiffened in surprise. She'd dated Lucian (or she liked to call her fawning on him dating), but they hadn't exactly interacted much since. She knew, however, that Lucian wasn't the idiot most thought him, so got up and trotted after him.

"What are we doing?" Helena asked when they were half a hall away from the others.

"Those daft meat'eads. You saw Draco, she didn't wanna go. She's scared o' somethin'." As he reached the special door, Lucian reached up with his teeth and grabbed the handle that was molded to the wood. It wasn't magical at all, this secret door, which was why it was so well hidden from wizards.

Staring at the hidden passage, Helena nonetheless followed Lucian inside and pulled it closed behind her with her wing. "So? What's your stake in Draco Malfoy? Is this a favor for Gemma?"

"'Er? No. Draco's just a kid, despite what Gemma and Draco think." Lucian, in the lead, reached the end of the dark hallway first. "You can go back if you want. If you walk out there wif me, the door'll close behind us and can't be opened from that side."

It was tempting to do just that. Helena stood still for a second after Lucian opened the door and stepped out into the afternoon sun. She took a deep breath and followed him. "You're a big softy, aren't you?"

"Shut up!"

"I can remember all the times you beat up the other boys without so much as a thought, but the only time you ever got rough with girls was in quidditch. You don't have a thing for Draco at all." Helena dodged the most halfhearted kick of Lucian's back leg she'd ever seen on any equine—which was saying something given her family raised horses. "Big. Softy."

"If you go spreading that, I might make an exception. I 'ad two little sisters growin' up. They were always getting in dirty, spells they shouldn'ta been knowin'. I told me mum it was me. It was always Lucian. Too daft to know better. Too daft for Durmstrang, too much trouble for 'em either." Lucian lowered his mass a little closer to the ground as he spied Jenny leading Draco, Gregory, and Vincent out of the shiny new castle and around the side. "Follow me and keep down."

Circling around newly thrust-up buildings to ensure they weren't seen, Lucian and Helena found the spot they were looking for. There was four Ministry wizards waiting at the portal, and now there was Jenny Sparks and her little entourage.

Jenny wasn't in the mood to be nice or take her time. Having been lumped with a milk-run in the middle of the biggest event since You-Know-Who died, she felt she was being severely underused. She eyed the two ponies that were helping her. "Alright. Names?"

"Vincent Crabbe." Vincent didn't bother smiling, and besides, he knew it didn't suit him.

"Gregory Goyle."

John Dawlish raised an eyebrow at the names. "Caught yourself a whole gaggle of pure-bloods, Jen."

"Yeah, yeah. Now I have to get them all back to their parents without being turned into a newt. Whole castle got turned like this. Well, not exactly like this. Most of 'em can stand up at least. They said what we'd already guessed—using magic definitely causes it." Walking right up to the rift, Jenny turned to look at her three charges. "Get your butts through. This place is creepy enough as it is, and I don't want to spend another second here."

Lucian watched from a nearby street corner as Vincent and Gregory tossed Draco—literally kicking and screaming—through the portal. "I'm gonna beat the snot out of those two, then drag 'em to Pomfrey, then beat the snot out of 'em again." He waited until the two colts and the auror jumped through too before he reached around and grabbed a mouthful of Helena's mane. "S'rry."

Helena wasn't a small pony—she was fifteen after all—but Lucian practically picked her up by the hunk of her mane and started dragging her. "Let go of me!"

"What's going on over there?" John watched a much bigger pony than the last three dragging another along. "More? Really? What exactly's going on up at the castle?"

Spitting out Helena's mane as he reached the portal, Lucian shrugged his shoulders. "They just told me to bring this one up too and take her after the last lot. Something about her family bein' important."

"What's your name?" John was hardly bored, but he hadn't become an auror to look after horses in strange worlds brimming with magic he didn't dare use.

"Well?" Lucian grinned. "Tell 'im yer name."

Helena knew what Lucian was going for. It wasn't uncommon for people to mistake her name until they'd seen it written. "Helena Fowley."

Smiling, John liked it when everything fell into orderly lines. Easily mistaking the name Fowley for Fawley, he waved at the portal. "That explains it. Get on through with you."

Grumbling under her breath, Helena stepped through the portal after Lucian gave her a shove. A sinking feeling in her stomach resulted in her almost falling down on the other side. It was night time, but there was a huge set of tents set up around her with lights bobbing out front.

Author's Notes:

To any available Ministry mages, what are your thoughts on the transformed Hogwarts students and faculty?

"It's intriguing is what it is. We've managed to figure out it's somehow tied to the use of magic itself. I'm sure a specialist in Transfiguration will have no problem at all reversing it. Fortunate, indeed, that we have such an expert present in Hogwarts. I should pay her a visit," Herbert Trencent, Obliviator for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, said.

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Join me on Discord. Warning, said chat may contain NSFW material and should be considered adult in nature.

Awesome ponies who are already helping to keep me in keyboards and rum:
A.P.O.N.I.
Canary in the Coal Mine
Daremo
Dio-Drogynous
Ender Voidwalker
KFS Crimson
Sirion123
Vi Watch

And special thanks to the following, for careful eyes and friendly words:
Lab

Splish Splash

View Online

I just finished the last of the meal and looked down at the empty plate. It'd been a large cabbage-filled pancake thing covered in a rich sauce. Not a single piece of meat in it, and I couldn't believe how filling it was and how good it'd tasted. "Thanks!"

"Eh, it was nothing. Twilight really likes this stuff since she ate it practically non-stop in Canterlot. Either I learned how to cook it, or Twilight wouldn't eat." Spike took our plates from the table and carried them over to the sink. "Oh, here she is now. Hungry?"

"I found it! The Peaks of Peril are just east of the San Palomino Desert, but we won't go that way. We'll take the train to Farthest Reaches and walk west from there!" Twilight sounded out of breath and a little excitable. When I turned around to look at her, she definitely looked exactly how she sounded. "Come on! He have to go right now!"

Addera cleared her throat with an exaggerated hiss. "Begging your pardon, Miss Twilight Sparkle, but isn't the train going to be coming to collect us tomorrow?"

Staring, frozen for a few moments, Twilight blinked her eyes a few times as if to clear some thoughts that didn't agree with her. "Of course. Right. Sorry, I got a little excited at finding the right book. Oooh, is that okonomiyaki?"

There was something extra cozy about relaxing together like this. Twilight didn't feel like an adult to me, but at the same time she was a hero. Just this one thing she'd done had saved her entire world from all the darkness King Sombra would have unleashed.

Okay, I might be biased here, but Twilight seemed like she was a whole different kind of adult to—to everyone else I knew. She knew magic and it was part of her, but was she a wizard? A wizard was… Back to the drawing board. A wizard (or witch) was someone who could work magic and had a flagrant disregard for anything but their goal? No, that was wrong. A wizard—A wizard was a silly concept.

A silly concept I could still embody. "So we'll meet the other kirin tomorrow?"

Twilight, her mouth full of the cabbage-cake-thing, nodded her head and smiled. She seemed really focused on eating, and I couldn't really blame her since we hadn't eaten—well I hadn't—since breakfast.

Something was eating at the back of my mind, and it took until Twilight finished eating to work out what it was—I was starting to feel a little twinge of anger coming. "Excuse me." I shook my head and used my hooves to grab my glasses off before bolting for the stairs. The door was in sight as I felt my anger grow a little further.

Jokes. I need a joke. Crossing a room of fireworks with a salamander? That had been a good one, but it barely took the edge off my anger. I tried to reach up to the door handle with my mouth, but Addera's hoof shot out of the corner of my vision and she opened the door for me.

I got outside onto the grass and took a deep breath. The three fillies from earlier were only a few feet away. With a smile, I burst into flames. It felt good to let the anger out.

"Don't worry! We'll get water!" Each of the fillies ran off in different directions.

I couldn't help at least a little giggle at how silly it was, but it wasn't enough to drown out my anger. What was I angry at, though? The train for taking a day? Oh! That's right. When in doubt, think of the Dursleys.

Ahh. There it was, my own pure and perfect source of never-ending, soul-crushing anger. I just began to do what I liked to call my angry stomp, when I got hit with water from three different directions. Spinning around, my flames now augmented by billowing steam.

"It didn't work!" Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie Belle wheeled about, bucket floating shakily in her magic's grip. "Get more water!"

It would have been easy to transfer my anger to the fillies, but that was hardly fair. They were trying to help me. Instead I looked around for something physical to destroy. Looking around Ponyville, I shied away from all the houses that looked like they would definitely burn, then noticed Scootaloo filling her bucket at a river.

Striking my flaming hooves against the ground, I took off at a run for the river. The grass under my hooves burned away in little patches as I ran, and as I neared the river I let out a roar of excitement.

Scootaloo turned to see me bearing down on her and dove to the side before I pounced high into the air and over where she'd been to land in the river.

What I hadn't counted on, in my determined and focused state, was that the river was deeper than one kirin. I sank into the water and struggled to get my head above the surface. When that didn't work, panic gripped me.

Flailing with all four legs, I could see the bright light of late afternoon above me but had no way to reach it. As if that wasn't the worst, something squeezed at my midsection and drove the last of my air out of me.

But it wasn't some kind of river monster that had me, but Addera. With my flames snuffed out by terror, I clung to Addera's coils even after she pulled me up and out of the river.

"Harry Potter! What did you do that for?!"

Tilting my head back, I looked up to see that her glasses had become skewed from the impromptu swim, and I caught sight of her beautiful yellow eyes. Going limp in her coils, I felt as relaxed as could be before she reached up and adjusted her eye protection.

Fear of drowning was something I just couldn't hold on to. I just wanted to see her eyes again. Reaching one hoof up, I tried to bat her glasses free.

"You will think and act normally, Harry Potter." Addera kissed my forehead and set me down on the grass. "However normal it is for a wizard who jumps in rivers."

Normal. Act normal. Think normal. I took a deep gasp of air and felt my mind rush in with it. Blinking away the vision of beautiful yellow yes, I shook my body to get dry.

"Are you alright?" Scootaloo had apparently forgotten her bucket, which was good because I didn't want more water. "You were on fire and I just ran to get as much water as I could and…" The concern in her voice hit me harder than it should have. She barely even knew me, and yet she ran to get water when she thought I was on fire.

"Y-Yeah." I felt strange still and I knew why. Addera's eyes. I shivered, but had no idea if it was from being soaked in cold water or the memory of her beautiful yellow eyes. "I kinda do that from time to time. That's why we're going to visit the other kirin, to ask them how they keep control of their nirik side."

"Nirik?" Scootaloo asked.

"The on-fire version of a kirin—me. It doesn't hurt, but it happens without much warning. I ran outside because I didn't want to set the library on fire." We both watched as Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle ran up, each carrying another bucket of water. "Where'd you get the buckets from?"

Apple Bloom managed to stop first, and managed not to toss her bucket of water at me. Yay. "Are you okay?"

Turning to her friends, Scootaloo nodded. "He said he catches on fire fairly often."

"That can't be good for your mane and tail," Sweetie Belle said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I had the distinct impression that Sweetie Belle would, with the smallest of excuses, toss her bucket of water at me anyway. "I'm okay. Really. I was just telling Scootaloo that sometimes I can't help but get angry, and when I get angry I turn into a nirik."

"Ooh!" Sweetie Belle looked like she'd had a revelation. "So if something made you angry again, I'd have to throw this water at you?"

"Maybe if you did it again, and we managed to put you out, we'd get our cutie marks in firefighting?" Apple Bloom asked.

"Cutie marks?" It took me a few moments to catch up and remember what Tourmaline had said about cutie marks. "Right. Symbols of destiny. You don't have yours yet?" Apparently I'd asked the wrong thing because the three of them suddenly looked like I'd kicked mud at them. "Wait, you get them for doing stuff?"

Apple Bloom, like her friends, immediately perked back up. "Yuh huh! A pony gets their cutie mark when they do something really special. It's how they know what they'll be good at for their whole life!"

Addera leaned down and tapped me on the shoulder. "I'm going back to the library, Harry Potter. When you are done, please come back—and try to avoid anymore rivers."

"Thanks, Addera." Just knowing how much she cared for me, despite all that had happened to her, made me feel warm inside—not nirik warm, thankfully.

"So? Can you make more fire?" Sweetie Belle asked, her face looking like nothing would make her happier.

A true wizard would think this over, so I did. The solution was obvious. "I can make fire no problems, but I'm not going to set myself on fire again."

Sweetie's face brightened to the point I thought she was going to explode with happiness. "Can you do that now?" With a little training she just might be the greatest witch that ever lived.

"Get your buckets ready." I looked around for a spot that would be good, and settled on making the fire right beside the river.

All three did so. Apple Bloom held her bucket with her forehooves, Scootaloo did the same, and Sweetie Belle held hers up partly with magic and partly with her forelegs. All three gave me a determined nod.

Tilting my head down, I aimed my horn at the grass beside the river and cast my weakest fire spell, even going so far as to do it without making the correct gesture. The result of my badly formed Fire-Making charm was a small rush of flame that lanced to the ground where I aimed it and instantly flared into a gout of purple fire about as big as me.

Three bucket loads of water landed on it and one bucket too. The flame had been so weak, despite its nirik-fire nature, that the water completely smothered it. The excitement as they cheered was contagious, and I felt elated.

"Well? Did it work?" I asked.

All three of them turned to look at their hips at the same time, which let me see as well. There was no picture there.

"I thought for sure this would be it." Apple Bloom looked hardest hit of the three, her ears tucked back and and even her bow looked like it slumped a little.

It seemed like a singularly terrible moment for them—as a wizard, I needed to help. "Well, do you have any other ideas I can help with?"

"You'll help us more?" Scootaloo's sad state seemed to have reversed just with me offering. She might not be a witch like Sweetie Belle, but she sure could turn her emotions around quick.

"Cutie Mark Crusaders huddle!" Sweetie Belle said and spun around while her two friends jumped in from either side.

I gave them some room to talk and backed off a bit to look into the river. The water looked crystal clear still, though now I knew how deep it got and how chill it was, I didn't plan to have another swim.

Movement drew my eyes back to the three. "We have decided that you, Harry Potter, will become an honorary member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders!" Apple Bloom's demeanor was brighter now, her bow sitting high again and her grin wide.

"So I can get a cutie mark too?" The idea didn't seem so far fetched. "I mean, we don't even know if kirin get them. Maybe they do? Err, we do."

Scootaloo actually danced in place in excitement. "You're going to be in town tomorrow, right?"

"Well, we're supposed to leave some time tomorrow. A train's coming to pick us up so we can find the other kirin. But it's not like we're going to stay there, and we aren't leaving until the train gets here, so I can probably slip out early if you have any other ideas for getting cutie marks?" I asked.

"Come on and we'll show you." Sweetie Belle wheeled around, rearing up and started running as fast as she could.

When Scootaloo and Apple Bloom chased after Sweetie Belle, I figured I should probably go too. I was an honorary Cutie Mark Crusader now, after all.

"I don't hold that against you, Gemma. Your actions probably halted what could have been a rather less than hospitable meeting." Minerva McGonagall sat at a table that held herself, Albus Dumbledore, Gemma Farley, Princess Cadance, and Prince Shining Armor. "Princess Celestia was arriving anyway."

"I concur," Albus said, looking from Gemma to Minerva, and then both Cadance and Shining. "We all appear to be caught in the middle. The Ministry are blind to what a great opportunity this is. If Miss Farley and Miss Sparkle are correct, we have found the source of wizardry."

"I spoke with Princess Celestia before coming. She's as determined to make the Ministry wizards and witches go home as the Ministry are about leaving." Cadance hated that she felt she couldn't stand up to Celestia. Every time she looked at her, Cadance felt every single one of Celestia's thousand-odd years older than Cadance was.

Shining stretched one leg to the side under the table to brush down Cadance's nearest shoulder. "The information about these Obliviate spells has her spooked. Ever since the changeling invasion, we've had directives within the Guard to counteract both mind-control and impersonators, but hearing of a spell that could steal her entire life away justifiably has her scared. It scares me just thinking about it."

"What we need is our own authority." Gemma looked around everyone present. "Right now the Ministry and Princess Celestia are trying to each maintain their own versions of control. If the Ministry win, we all get dragged back to Earth while they figure out what to do with the portal. If Princess Celestia wins, she drives them back to Earth, and adds the Crystal Empire to Equestria."

"It is part of Equestria," Cadance said.

"I think I see what she's saying, Cady." Turning all his attention to Gemma, Shining had to do something he'd been trained for at last—seeing strategy. "You propose we take control of the Crystal Empire for ourselves?" He gestured around the table.

"No. That wouldn't work. Princess Celestia would never accept us as part rulers. It has to be you two who are in charge. It's the only way she'd back down," Gemma said.

"That would leave you with the right to ask her for assistance." Taking his glasses out, Albus held them carefully in his hooves and polished the lenses. It was less a necessity and more a habit. "You could also invite us to remain."

"What about the Ministry?" Cadance asked. "How would they fit into this?"

"Balance." Compelled to speak, Gemma found herself smiling as every ounce of her sharp mind's deviousness was being employed. "As ponies from Equestria may come here openly, so can humans. They'll need to be aware of the—I don't want to call them downsides, but losing your hands is a bit troublesome—different aspects of living here." She turned to look at Minerva. "Perhaps wizardry and witchcraft could be taught to more than just humans?"

Creasing her forehead a little as she followed Gemma's words, Minerva couldn't stop herself from smiling a little—the thought of a cultural exchange of magic lore pleased her ideals of expanding knowledge. "And we could likely learn a good deal from our long-lost cousins."

"This all hinges on one thing, Cady. You have to stand up to them—to both sides," Shining said.

"I won't be a tyrant. I'll want everyone behind me if I'm going to do this." In her mind, Cadance could count all the ways that what she planned was insane, and plotted out each and every horrible outcome. "That means all the crystal ponies, the teachers, and any of the graduating students who wish to stay."

"I'll find Percy. He's reliable enough to help me ask the other students. He's old enough to graduate himself, if he wanted to." Gemma looked from Albus to Minerva and then to Shining. "Who's taking the faculty and who's taking the crystal ponies?"

Clearing his throat, Albus Dumbledore smiled warmly and tucked his glasses back in his robes. "I'll talk to the crystal ponies."

"I'll talk to the faculty then," Minerva said.

"We won't have the Royal Guard anymore, and I can't invite them to stay here. I'll talk to the crystal ponies too, I think. It's not that I don't trust you, professor, but for this to work we'll need some soldiers, and I hope there'll be at least enough to put a squad of guardponies together from our new friends," Shining said.

"Shall we meet back here at midnight?" Albus asked.

Cadance had realized one shocking fact: this might happen. They might get the support of the crystal ponies, they might have the faculty of Hogwarts and their senior students behind them, which would leave her and Shining the prince and princess of the Crystal Empire.

"What are you going to do, Cady?" Shining could see his words snapped his wife from some deep thoughts. He rubbed her forehoof a little more.

"Apart from psyching myself up to tell Princess Celestia and the Ministry of Magic 'no'?" As Cadance spoke, she looked around the table. Not a single face looked at her with envy. "I think I might start making plans for the Crystal Empire."

Princess Celestia sat with two of her Royal Guard on the edge of the city—the Crystal Empire. "This is not going well. These humans think themselves within their rights to use magic on the minds of these poor ponies." She wasn't talking to anypony, just voicing her thoughts. "It's unconscionable that they would use such—such abhorrent magic on innocents. I'll not stand in the way of them retrieving their foals, but such hostility must not be allowed unchecked."

A tingling began in her horn. Celestia let out a slow breath and smiled at the new/old sensation. For a thousand years she had gone without feeling it—a thousand years she had always cried when she set her sun.

The tingling in Celestia's horn was her sister's magic and was the power that began the night. Complementing that power, Celestia let her magic rush into her horn and focused on the sun. "Time to sleep. Rest so that you may return to work tomorrow."

The sun in the evening sky slowly descended below the horizon and—for a moment—the land was dark. Then silver-white light illuminated everything in its cool glow. The moon had risen.

"Change." Celestia let her horn go dark. "Change can happen again. That is my sister's gift to Equestria, and what I robbed it of for so long. I can't let this Ministry have their way, but…" She let her voice trail off to nothing. She knew what she wanted, but didn't know if the ponies she'd put in place could bring it about themselves. "Star Flare, what was your impression of Cadance and Shining?"

A Royal Guardpony's pledge to his princess was a two-way street. Each, when being welcomed to the Royal Guard, would spend a vigil promising their life to Celestia, and Celestia would promise their life back. When addressed by name, each Royal Guard knew that it was Celestia asking, and not the Princess.

"Celestia, I believe Princess Cadance is an amazing pony, and I'm not sure if any other you could have sent would have established the links and peace that has bloomed here. But you're not asking about that. You already knew that." Lieutenant Star Flare snorted just once in a half-laugh. "You're asking if they will take control. I don't know. Captain Shining Armor has been the smartest and most capable of us, but there's something important you have to do for him in order for him to spread his wings."

"His vow. I know. You believe that's all that would hold them back?" Celestia asked.

"If you release him from his bonds, I believe he'll show the young princess that she can lead."

"Thank you, Star."

"You're welcome, Celestia."

"Herbert, you don't understand. They're fully capable of being classed as beings. All we need to do is establish this and secure a promise from this leader of theirs and everything's squared away. No need for obliviating." Richard Fellows was an old wizard. His medium-length beard was rough and patchy, and he had more than a little gray in it. His hair was likewise unkempt, but when it came to magical creatures, he was an expert—literally. A member of the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Richard was more than familiar with the laws of classification between being, beast, and spirit.

"We can worry about that after everything has calmed down, Richard." Herbert Trencent shook his head at the older wizard. He kept himself clean-shaven and his hair trimmed to within an inch of its life. Order and regulation was Herbert's life and passion, and his role within the Ministry of Magic was with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was that of obliviator. "It won't be much. We just clip out enough to put them all into a cozy state, not remembering what has happened in the week that Hogwarts has been here. Once order is returned, smarter heads than ours can decide whom is a beast and whom a being."

"Well, that train—if you'll forgive an old man a joke—has already left the station. I have a report that no less than eight individuals departed earlier by train. Any obliviation done now would be quite a scandal once those individuals have spread the word of what has already happened. There's no stopping this, Herbert, this is going to be a public one." Taking his pipe out, Richard turned the end of it over and started tapping out the last burnt ashes of its previous charge. "Besides, we're hardly in England right now. We lack jurisdiction."

Turning his nose up at his compatriot's habit, Herbert looked out at the wonder of the city ruins around them. "Poppycock. These are Hogwarts' grounds. Hogwarts itself is under Ministry jurisdiction. We might not technically have the freedom to act outside of it, but if I cast a spell from within Hogwarts, where it lands is someone else's problem."

"It's still useless unless you can find the eight who left along with all the creatures they contacted in the meantime. Face it, Herbert, this isn't a matter that can be covered up anymore. We have to go down and play nice until we can get all the students out of here. I've already had one of my witches take care of the Malfoy boy. That brings me to another point. Have you worked out if this transfiguration is malicious?"

"I don't think it is. My examination, crude as it is, hasn't detected any particular source for it, nor can I detect the spell itself. It could simply be the magic of this world is tainted."

Taking a deep breath of the evening air, Richard Fellows shook his head. "Shame, that. Would make a lovely place for holidays. Ha! Could you imagine how much Arthur would enjoy this? It's practically exactly what that chap loves to poke at, though I believe doing so without magic would be a bit of a downer." The wizard pointed at his pipe and lit it with a tiny flicker of magic, only realizing after the fact it hadn't done anything to him. "Well, look at that, Herbert."

"What's that?"

"I just lit my pipe without thinking, and I didn't have anything happen to me. There must be a threshold that triggers the changes. Curious. Shame what with Minerva McGonagall being tangled up in the middle of this. One of the greatest transfigurationists ever to live—or so both my boys would say." Lifting his pipe to his lips, Richard took a long puff on the tobacco. "Say, it wouldn't hurt if I asked her to help with this little problem, would it?"

"She's got an even keel, that woman. I would have said yes in an instant in any other situation, but you heard her earlier." Herbert cleared his throat and stepped away from Richard to avoid the pipe smoke. "While I fully agree with her sentiments about getting the children out, I do not hold with her opinions on the natives here, let alone that lunatic notion of blood purity she spouted. Blood purity? Bah! I was muggle-born, and there's no difference between my blood and any other wizards'."

"Truth that, Herbert, but I think I must insist on bringing this particular matter to her attention. We mustn't disregard what information we can find until we have the larger problems solved." Always willing to make allowances for his habit, Richard turned a little away from Herbert. "It will be good to get back home to the comforts of magic."

Ginevra Molly Weasley didn't like what King Sombra was doing to Voldemort, but there was one fact that she kept coming back to—Voldemort was evil. He was bad on such a scale and to so many that if stopping him required a little pain on his part, Ginevra could sit to the side and let that happen.

She knew she should be feeling something more, perhaps even fear or disgust, but Ginevra just couldn't dredge up those emotions.

'I have it,' King Sombra said into Ginevra's mind. 'Not how to create them, but where he has hidden the ones he had.'

"The horcruxes?" Ginevra turned around and wished she hadn't. Her spectral form might make her look like a ghostly adult, but all that was left of Nagini almost made her sick. Fortunately for Ginevra, her body lacked the ability to be so.

'Yes. No. And more. We have some creatures to track down who know where several of them are. I promise you, Ginevra, we hunt only evil creatures.' Sombra knew his charge was still a little touchy about what was right, so he presented things in simple-to-resolve conflicts. 'Together we have removed the greatest evil in this world. Shall we extract the rest?'

"Deatheaters?" The very idea of it surprised Ginevra. "You mean k—remove the deatheaters? We can just do that?" She found herself smiling. "How do we do that? From what Dad said, they all went into hiding after You-Know—after Voldemort was defeated by Harry the first time." Ginevra made a point of not looking back at the snake on the ground.

Able to smell the excitement in his apprentice, Sombra practically purred as he spoke to her mind. 'First we find the horcruxes he knew the location of. Then we call some more of my power and cloak you properly. Once that task is done, we will find all the deatheaters and regain my power at the same time. I will pick one from among them to become my new vessel.'

Restoring her king and ridding the world of evil—Ginevra could scarcely be happier with the course of actions. "Where are they? Where are the horcruxes?"

'The first, apart from that lovely piece your servant wears, is a ring. We will find it in an abandoned shack. Voldemort was most descriptive.'

One thing nibbled at the edges of Ginevra's mind. "But now you ki—Now that Voldemort is gone, won't he return through this ring?"

'He will try. How long did it take him to recover from his last death, Ginevra?'

Ginevra smiled a little wider as she did the math. "Over ten years."

'While we have some time for idle conversation, I would ask that we not take ten years to find the remaining horcruxes.'

The humor in Sombra's voice was not lost on Ginevra. Looking around, she spotted Peter Pettigrew huddled against a tree. "Come, minion. We have more things to hunt."

Alastor Moody stared hard at the creature sitting up on the chair opposite him. The house-elf, Toil, looked back with as much innocence in its eyes as any creature he'd ever seen. He didn't trust it one bit. "You killed that wizard."

Toil clutched his hands before him and managed to get some tears to form in the corners of his eyes. "Who, sir? Me, sir? Oh, sir, no, sir! Sir! I would, sir, never—"

"I've heard you talk. Don't play games!" The sea air was starting to work its way into Alastor's joints, and not in the soothing-warmth way. "I've already worked out those two are innocent of everything but being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I can smell guilt, 'elf, and you stink of it."

"I'm not sure I like you. Too clever. Way too clever." Toil shook his head to clear the crocodile tears he'd managed to build up. "What's to tell? I killed 'em."

"'Elf, why?"

"Oh! There 'e goes. Askin' a daft house-elf wif no house a question like why?" Rocking side to side on the chair, Toil felt like cartwheeling a few times just because it felt good to be in character again. "Why! Ha!"

But the silence of Alastor's stare was too much even for Toil's mild insanity to resist for long. "He killed them, he did. Zap-zap!" He rocked a little faster, side to side. "Said they was 'is, and 'e only needed one house-elf. Zap-zap!"

Alastor tried to keep his face straight. It was an uphill fight, but he managed it with the same willpower that had stared deatheaters down in duels. "Who?"

"Who! Look at Mr. Auror—Mr. Alastor Moody—over here! Who?! He killed my wife and daughter!" Toil's shoulders heaved with each thunderous breath that rocked his body. He stared past Alastor, past the walls of the prison, past even the ocean. "Trouble, she was, and we were meant to be together." Toil's voice was soft and real tears now flowed freely from his eyes. "And our little girl—We hadn't chosen a name for her yet. I promised the master that he'd get my lifetime of work for leaving us be."

Even the steely resolve of Alastor's heart couldn't defend him from the emotions evident in every thread of Toil's being. He didn't dare move or speak, but he felt a bit of dampness in his own eye.

"He told me to wait in the corner until he was done. Zap-zap. Then he turned to me and told me, 'House-elves don't deserve happiness, and should be grateful for their own lives.'" Movement caught Toil's attention and he focused his eyes in time to see Alastor wiping one arm of his duster across his face. "Don't cry for them, Mr. Auror. Don't ever cry for Trouble and little—little…"

Alastor adjusted his posture a little to shift his aching joints. "Some would call that either self defense, or the actions of someone mad with loss and pain." Heaving a sigh, Alastor looked the bundle of rags before him up and down. "I call it retribution and dark deeds paid back, but it'll never bring 'em back, lad."

"What say you?" Grabbing up his characterization of the mad house-elf, Toil was able to stop his tears and face the auror. "What say the auror with just one leg?"

"That the minute I'm out of here and at the ministry, you're goin' free. Free, I might say, to somewhere that'll see you get some care for that 'ead." Alastor pressed both his hands firmly to the table and pushed himself to his feet. "On the other side of the table now, and try to look as neutral as you can—we've got company."

Toil was a little confused by the instructions, but followed them all the same. By the time he ducked under the table and stood on the other side of it—facing the door—he could see Alastor escorting someone else into the room. His eyes widened a little at the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange walking into the room while Alastor Moody held the chains that still bound her wrists together.

Alastor had no respect for Bellatrix's honor or humanity, but he had to respect her dark arts. He knew well that to ignore any deatheater's magic was to give them the upper hand, and one thing he never planned to do was to give a deatheater the upper hand. "Sit there and don't move."

"Do you have any idea who I am? When Lord Voldemort returns, you'll suffer for—" Bellatrix hadn't planned on either shutting up or sitting, but being shoved down into the seat forestalled her plans completely.

"I know exactly who you are, Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Bellatrix Black. You killed and tortured your way to his side and inner circle. What can you tell me about Peter Pettigrew?" Feeling out the handle of his wand, Alastor looked Bellatrix right in the eyes.

"So terrible. I was just about to have some fun with the poor dear when he got in a fight with—" Bellatrix's face curled into a snarl and she spat on the floor. "With my cousin. I heard Sirius put on quite the show with him, but not half the show I'll make of you when Lord Voldemort returns. You'll see, he'll break these walls down and rip us free of this hole. He'll give us wings to ride the skies again, and we'll kill you, and kill your friends, and kill every one of—"

Toil was surprised at his own action. He'd walked through the table and right up to Bellatrix and slapped her cheek hard. Staring at his hand, he turned to look at Alastor.

"While I normally prefer a prisoner to continue talking as much as they like, Toil, thank ya." Alastor let out a sigh—he'd been moments from doing the same as what Toil had done himself. "The truth, Lestrange."

Scratching distractedly at her arm, Bellatrix slipped her crazy-mask firmly into place and gave Toil a smile. "Well, if you think a little rough 'n' tumble's going to get you the truth, I know someone in the east wing of this dingy little hole that would give you the truth all day long. In fact, I—" Bellatrix winced a little and lifted her hand away from her forearm to reveal what had irritated her.

What had been a snake slithering through a skull, now resembled a black silhouette of a horse's head with a prominent, curved horn. She stared at the mark in shock, then started to tremble. "W-W-What's become of him? What happened?" The bond of every deatheater to their master was what panicked Bellatrix the most—in all the years since he'd lain his dark mark upon her, she'd never felt bereft of that link.

But now Bellatrix Lestrange felt a different bond—a different link.

Tilting his head to the side, Toil watched the woman stare at her arm and rock slowly in place. "Mr. Auror, Toil tends to think he's a little off the deep end, but I fink she just swan-dived."

Holding up his wand, Alastor began casting a detection spell to identify first that dark magic was being performed, then its power, and finally its type. Each part of the spell, as it worked through its motions, would tell him more about what was happening.

First, the spell would tingle his fingers holding his wand to let Alastor know that dark arts were being worked. It did.

Second, the spell would cause Alastor's wand tip to glow in accordance with how much dark magic was in play. It certainly glowed, enough so that only an active spell or ongoing charm would have a similar effect.

Thirdly, the direct target of the dark art would be revealed to Alastor alone as if it glowed. Certainly, to Alastor Moody's trained eye, Bellatrix Lestrange glowed, but the glow didn't come from her body, but within.

It took Alastor no more than seconds to have the true horror of the spell revealed to him—the dark magic was being worked directly upon her soul. Standing up, Alastor poured power into his wand and wound the room in a powerful ward against the dark arts. Charms known only to Aurors poured down his wand and from his mouth as Alastor worked to restrict the flow of dark magic—but he managed little else than to slow it.

Repeating his incantations, Alastor finally managed to seal the room against the influence that had been infiltrating Bellatrix. With the pulsing charms' magic throbbing in the air, Alastor walked around the table and grabbed Bellatrix's arm and held it up.

"You were never one to hide what you were, Lestrange, but this is new." Alastor turned the witch's wrist so he could better see the grinning, black unicorn's head. "What happened?"

Practically hanging by her wrist, Bellatrix felt weak as a kitten for the first time since she'd gained the mark. "He's dead. There's a new Dark Lord, and he calls to us."

"I keep telling you, you're not going to get an answer out of 'em." Charles Weasley said.

So far, none of the talking dragons had been directly hostile to him. "I'm not sure what world I've fallen into, but dragons on my world—like Norbert and Whistlewing—aren't exactly going to reply."

"What even are you?" Inferno, a young male red dragon who still walked on spindly legs, stomped closer to Charlie. "You're not a pony or a griffon, and that's all we've promised not to eat."

"Can it, Ferny. Whatever it is, it can speak and it doesn't look like it's made out of jewels, so no point in eating it. What's your name?" Rake shoved her much smaller brother to the side and towered above Charlie and Norbert both. She held her wings only slightly furled at her sides, and looked down her almost-adult body at the human.

It was certainly one thing to deal with dragons as huge beasts with minds equivalent to big felines, and quite another to have the biggest dragon Charlie had ever seen talk to him in passable English. "Hi, my name's Charles—Charles Weasley. Sorry if I dropped in on you, we don't mean any harm."

"Pfft. Now I know you're not from around here. M'names Rake. This squirt over here is my bro, Inferno. So, Charles, why're you here?" Boredom was the normal staple of draconic life, but right now Rake felt far more curiosity in the small creature that spoke to her. The dragon at his side, in her estimation, wasn't an actual dragon.

"Well, there was this hole-thing that opened up. Some kind of magic, I think. Anyway, one of my—one of these dragons jumped their fool arse through it, and it's sorta my job to take care of them. Sorry if it's a bother." The staple of British life was a good, well-rounded apology at least every hour, and Charlie had been raised right in that regard. "You, uh, haven't seen Whistlewing around here, have you?"

"What's a Whistlewing?" It took a second before Rake's awareness caught on the fact that something was diving at her. Tilting her long head up, she spotted the dragoness coming for her and narrowed her eyes at it.

Whistlewing knew she had a good deal going. The human thing gave her food and didn't annoy her too much, and the other dragon that was always near it didn't bother her either—except when she got angry at the human. But this new dragon was huge and looked like it was going to muscle in on her good time.

Stooped in a dive, Whistlewing aimed herself for the other dragon's wings. A dragon on the ground was vulnerable to just about anything, which was why Whistlewing extended her talons at the last second to rake its wings.

Rake snorted in disdain. "This,"—she reached one huge forelimb out and grabbed Whistlewing out of the air by her throat—"is Whistlewing? I see why she's called that; heard her comin' from a mile away. Angry little thing."

Charlie could only stare at the sight of Whistlewing snapping, biting, and clawing at Rake, but none of it having any effect on the strange dragon. "Please don't hurt her. She's not all that bright, and probably thought you were trying to hurt us."

"Are you sayin' dragons ain't smart?" His pride a little stung on behalf of Whistlewing, Inferno stomped up to stand roughly the same height as Charlie, and right in his face. "You take that back!"

The youth of Inferno practically sang in his words and posture as he tried to intimidate Charlie. He looked down at the little stick the human had drawn and laughed. "What's that gonna do?"

Charlie was almost ready to cast a Stupefying charm when another big yellow talon closed around Inferno and lifted him up and away. Looking up, Charlie could see that Rake looked more annoyed than angry. "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply you were stupid, but—"

"Nah. You were right." Rake glared into her brother's eyes. "'e's stupid as a rock sometimes. Listen, Ferny, when a strange thing points something pointy at you, you always assume it's somethin' that can hurt ya. See that little bit of wood? I bet 'e'd do all kinds of bad stuff to you with that."

Looking down at his wand to put it away carefully, Charlie let out a sigh and nodded. He knew better than to say exactly what his wand could do, but at the same time he could respect that Rake was a bit smarter than he'd previously given her credit for. Big and dumb, Charlie thought, might not be as synonymous here.

"See? Ponies might not mess you up, but this isn't a pony, Ferny." Done with her lecture, Rake dropped her brother and turned her attention to Whistlewing (who was still doing her best to get free). "And you. Don't attack things bigger than you unless you know they can't move faster than you. Worse than a hatchling…"

Whistlewing had been waiting for Rake to squeeze down, and was stunned for a moment when she let go. Scrambling to land without hurting herself, Whistlewing hissed at the big dragon and rushed to stand beside and behind Charlie. With one eye on the human, she hissed again at Rake for good measure.

Norbert, who was not at all sure what to make of the strange dragons, stuck to Charlie's side like glue. Even the littler of the two set his scales on edge for some reason.

"Huh. Night time," Rake said, turning her head to look at the sun a moment before it plunged below the horizon.

If Charlie didn't have each hand on a dragon's neck, he probably would have fallen over. As it was, darkness settled over the world, and neither of the local dragons seemed surprised by it happening so suddenly. "That's normal?"

"What's normal?" Rake asked. "Sunset? It sometimes happens at odd times, but the ponies normally keep it on time. One of the reason Torch decreed no dragon is to eat a pony or griffon. They're thick with each other, and if we screw up, well, we can handle lava no problems, but I don't want to try swimming in the sun—you know?"

"Right." Charlie didn't know, of course. "Well, I guess we should probably sleep. Is it safe, or okay, to sleep here?"

Rake yawned and shrugged her shoulders, then figured they'd probably not be able to see her do either. "Whatever. Only ground a dragon owns is their cave, and as long as you don't walk into mine, you're fine to do whatever."

Charlie stared as Rake and Inferno turned and, spreading their wings, flew away. "Well, I guess here's probably a safe spot. At least Rake didn't seem to want to do anything about us. You two'll need something, won't ya?"

First to reply to Charlie's words was Norbert. He'd known Charlie for most of his life, and butted his head against Charlie's coat where his pocket that held meat was.

"Loo-mos." Charlie wasn't taking any chances with his magic. He could have wordlessly lit his wand for light, but the very words of magic were a comfort in such a strange world. That magic heeded his call was an even greater comfort, though something felt a little off about it.

Both Norbert and Whistlewing swung their heads up when they saw Charlie toss two cubes of venison into the air, and both were already salivating as he incanted the spell to recreate them into full-sized shoulders of deer.

Neither dragon saw Charlie wince and grab for his head as the potent magic of Equestria heeded both his call and that of his blood.

Charlie shouted in shock as he felt a tremendous headache spread through the front of his forehead and then outward. It was like having something too big grow in his head and then shove its way out. Barely holding onto his wand, he let out a string of words not fit for children as he reached a hand up to feel his forehead.

Careful fingers prodded at what had borne Charlie so much pain, and with both earth dragons ripping into their meals, he felt the pure white horn that now exited his forehead in a slight spiral patter. "Ah heck. What's this?"

With no answer coming, Charlie put his wand away and swore to himself he wouldn't use magic again until he figured out if it was what caused his head to suddenly gain a protrusion. Without any light, he pulled a sleeping bag out of one of his pockets and, without even removing his boots, climbed inside it.

Far from cold, Charlie was nonetheless surprised when a large mass curled up at his back. Norbert's spines weren't anywhere near the sleeping bag, in fact they were aiming outward from it—the dragon curling up against Charlie as one of the only family it'd ever known.

Whistlewing looked at the two curled up together, still licking her lips of the juices the tender meat had spread over them. Draconic pride was nearly legendary and was just about as well known as their tendency to dispatch things that displeased them, but with a sinking feeling, Whistlewing realized that the other creatures of this land were far more dangerous than she was, given her recent examples.

She needed a pack—a group to protect her and to help protect. Dragons rarely had to use teamwork to defeat anything, but Whistlewing also didn't wish to spend time in the morning hunting for food when the human would give her some.

Charlie was therefore even further surprised when he felt Whistlewing curl up against his chest, one of her eyes open mere inches from his face. The smell of venison wafted to him as he tried not to think about how juicy his own body might seem to her, but one thing about draconic ways came to the forefront for him—dragons don't band together with prey, but with other dragons.

It should have been impossible for Charlie to get to sleep, but he was oddly exhausted by the day's experience, and was soon sleeping along with the two large predators.

Author's Notes:

Celestia: Why do you want them all to leave?

"What happened to the Crystal Empire is partly my fault—mine and Luna's. We failed to act quickly enough to deal with Sombra a thousand years ago, and he doomed the entire city to a thousand year exile. I want the ponies to have a chance at being themselves, without further outside influences. I want Cadance to find her own hooves and lead them to prosperity without dealing with a potentially invading presence." Princess Celestia, with one eye hidden by her mane, let out a sigh. "Most of all, though, I want a chance at doing this right. We don't know the motives of these humans, and with so many of them loose in the Crystal Empire, I fear that things will change even more and faster than any of us can anticipate."

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A Different World

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I'd never get used to how the sun just dropped here. One minute it was hovering in a mid-afternoon-on-Earth position, the next it just plummeted below the horizon and was gone for the evening.

"Well, that looks like your cue to head home!" Pinkie Pie said from behind the counter in the bakery we'd all inhabited since leaving the river. She was the most bright and happy person (or pony) I'd ever met, and there was a sense that nothing could ever make her feel down.

Spending an evening talking about cutie marks while eating cupcakes and sipping milkshakes. I thought we'd be roughing it on our way to find the kirin. Given our marching orders, I raced to finish my milkshake—and it seemed the others did too.

We all finished together, the sound of bubbling slurps coming from the bottom of our straws. Letting go of mine, I couldn't hold back a laugh. "I win!"

Scootaloo let her own straw drop. "No way! I totally beat you!"

"Girls we—sorry, Harry." Apple Bloom cleared her throat. "Cutie Mark Crusaders, the milkshake-drinking contest was… a draw!"

We all stared at Apple Bloom, but it was Sweetie Belle who replied first. "You're just saying that because you finished last."

Staring at each other, I watched all their mouths curl into big grins and felt mine do the same. We laughed for the entire walk back to the library. Equestria was a different world, filled with different people (ponies), and for some reason I couldn't stop smiling all the time. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow? Or maybe in a few days when we're coming back?"

"Sure! But you have to tell us about everythin'!" Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie Belle nodded her head enthusiastically. "Especially if you get your cutie mark. Make sure to tell us all about it."

"Yeah. Just in case we can go too and get our cutie marks." Scootaloo shoved her hoof out. "Cutie Mark Crusaders!"

I shoved my hoof into the pile that the others made. "Cutie Mark Crusaders!" It was such a silly idea, but it worked here as it never could back on Earth. "I've got to go."

When I turned for the door to the library, it was already open with Addera holding it open. With her eyes hidden, it was sometimes hard to read her expression (harder still because her face was so different to a human's), but she didn't look angry. I walked inside.

"You had fun, Harry Potter?" Addera asked.

I couldn't contain myself. Bouncing around in a circle, I let loose with all the energy I felt bubbling up inside—though not magically or thermally. "They're awesome, Addera. It's like Earth doesn't even exist and I can just ignore Voldemort, the Dursleys, and—and everything!"

Addera struck like the snake she resembled. Picking me up in her arms and hugging me tight. "Word was sent from Canterlot, the train will be waiting for us in the morning, Harry Potter."

I stuck my snout into the soft fur at her neck and shook with excitement. Yanking my head back, I looked up at Addera. "Did you work out how long it would take to get there? Will it be an all-day thing, or will we get there in a few hours? Which direction is it?"

"We don't know how long, but it is west, Harry Potter." Addera slithered along the wooden floor and to the stairs. "Twilight said we could sleep on the couch upstairs." It was kinda funny how deceptively fast she moved. We were at the top of the stairs before I could have even gotten halfway up.

"Oh, he's back? Not still hungry are you?" Spike asked.

I turned my head to see him sitting at the table with a comic in front of him, munching on what looked like gemstones. Not just small ones, big gemstones. He had some red stone that looked about the size of my hoof, tossed it in his mouth, and started crunching away at it.

Okay, maybe dragons here were a little scary.

"We, uh, ate." I watched as he had another bite, his mouth showing no damage for his impressive meal. "A-Are you eating gemstones?"

"Yup!" Spike almost spat out half his mouthful as he spoke. "I love rubies the most."

"We ate cupcakes and had milk shakes at Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie Pie was there, said we could have some for free on account of helping to save Equestria from Som—" A yawn stole the end of my sentence. I glanced around the room and spotted Hedwig looking back at me from the windowsill.

A shiver ran through me at the sight of Hedwig. She looked amazing, standing by the window, and she was well-fed too. Spreading her wings, she dropped down from the window in a glide toward us, then gave a flap to gain her enough height to land on my back.

It was like the world imploded—or was it exploded? Everything was gone in a flash and then was back. My sight had never been this good. I was flying through the air with something clasped in my foot.

'My memory.'

Well, that explained it. I was carrying something in Hedwig's claw. Hold up, did she just talk to me?

'Yes.'

That meant she could hear my thoughts. This is amazing! Relaxing, I let her (or her memory) fly us around for a while and let my thoughts focus in on what this meant. Just so you know, you don't need to answer everything I think about, okay?

There was no answer. That meant—I think—that she agreed with me. Okay, so we have been getting impressions of each other for a few days now, and we can actually communicate like this. Not that we weren't communicating before, but I mean now it's not just guessing what you want.

'Yes.'

There was more than just a word. I could hear her laughing in my head. Okay, so if we can do the weak stuff at a distance, and this when we touch, maybe we can focus enough to do this at a distance too? The connection is there.

All the while we were flying. Flying was everything to me, but with things as they are, I wasn't likely to fly without more duct tape. This? This was amazing. Thank you, Hedwig.

I came to with her nibbling at one of my ears and with Addera coiled around me. The room was dark.

'Sorry.'

It's okay, Hedwig. Now, I think, I might try to get some real sleep. I closed my eyes and felt wings lift me high again. My feathers flickered lightly in the air, and though the dream was wonderful, I don't think it was mine. I just didn't care.

Flying. I'd been flying free with Hedwig all night. Everything else in the world could take a back seat when you could fly. I woke up feeling better rested than anytime in my life, and could swear I could taste rat in my mouth. I wasn't sure how I knew what rat tasted like to be able to identify it, but I guess maybe that leaked over from Hedwig too.

Not that thinking a little more like Hedwig would ever be a problem, she was smarter than a lot of people I knew.

'Yes.'

On the edge of waking, with my eyes still closed, I could feel her huddled against me with Addera's coils around the both of us. Unlike the other owls, she'd never been afraid of Addera.

'Good snake. Shares meals.'

She shares her warmth, too, but I think that is more a case of her being great for keeping our warmth safe too. I just don't know how it works, but I'm always cozy and warm with her coiled up like this.

Opening my eyes revealed darkness still. When Hedwig moved her wing—thank you—I could see light above us. Light that was framed by Addera's face—with her eyes closed. "Good morning."

"The oddest thing, Harry Potter. When you slept, your heartbeats matched rhythm." Addera's tongue flicked out. It wasn't as thin as a real snake's, but it was thinner than what I'd expect a pony's to be. "Good morning to both of you."

'Tell snake good morning.'

I yawned and squirmed in her coils. "Hedwig says good morning. She likes you, you know." Warm and cozy, I wasn't planning to move unless forced.

'Nor me'

"You can speak to her now? That is quite the talent, Harry Potter, and quite a useful thing. With a clever owl, you will never be caught unawares." Not seeming like she wanted to move either, Addera used one of her hooves to rub at my ear.

'That's nice.'

My head felt full of cotton wool—what with the ear rubbing—but I managed to hear Hedwig clearly enough. You can feel that?

'Yes.'

Her thought wasn't as direct as normal. Hedwig sounded like I felt—drawn out and relaxed. It is pretty good. She doesn't do it often, but when she does it's… It's good.

What finally broke an extended time of quiet for all three of us, was Spike cheerfully saying, "Good morning. Who wants pancakes?"

"With cabbage in them, like last night, Spike the dragon?" Slowly, Addera uncoiled herself from around us to reveal that we'd been sleeping in the kitchen area.

The light I'd noticed earlier was coming in through the windows. Windows that Spike now threw open to let a morning breeze in. "No cabbage in sweet pancakes. You can have your choice of blueberries, icing sugar, honey, or maple syrup on them. Oh, and I think we might have some ice cream."

'I'm going to hunt.'

Hedwig jumped off my back and spread her wings before flapping her way out the window. The whole trip across the kitchen only took her a few blinks of an eye and she was gone into the morning.

Spike gathered ingredients and then climbed up on his step-ladder at the stove. "Your owl isn't hungry?" I couldn't see what he was doing, what with my glasses not being on, but I assumed he was making pancakes. Aunt Petunia never made pancakes from scratch. Instead, she'd buy packets of easy-bake—just add water. He definitely wasn't using packets, but I couldn't see exactly what he was doing.

"She'll find her own food, don't worry. Where's my glas—" Addera's hoof appeared before my face carefully holding out my glasses. I shoved my face forward and she slid the glasses onto my face.

The world was back in focus and I smiled up at her. Addera was already wearing her own mirror-glasses. "Thanks, Addera."

A hooting noise distracted me for a moment, and when I looked in the direction my ears told me it came from, I saw a brown owl sitting in the window. Unlike with Hedwig, I couldn't feel this owl—so it was either a native owl or someone at the school had sent me a message.

"Good morning, Owlowiscious." The way Spike said it, I could gather that was the owl's name. It wasn't as refined as Hedwig, and this owl wasn't anywhere near as beautiful as she was either. Definitely an inferior owl. "Twilight should be awake soon. She was up really late studying some maps she found of the area you're headed."

"You're not coming?" I asked.

"Hey, I totally could this time! I'll ask Twilight when she—" Spike cut off as the sound of hooves came up the stairs from below. "Speaking of, here she comes. Good morning, Twilight. Let me make you some coffee."

"Mmmm…" Twilight didn't sound so good, and with her mane and tail looking like a mess, it was obvious she hadn't actually woken up yet. She stumbled over to the table and sat down, then rested her head on the table.

"Is she asleep?" I asked.

"Her heart rate has lowered, Harry Potter. I believe she has gone to sleep."

"More like never woke up in the first place. Twilight tends to get into habits so hard that sleep-walking is the nearest description for it." Spike pulled out a jumbo-sized mug and started pouring coffee from a pot on the bench into it. It actually took the whole pot to fill.

On the table, Twilight's head moved and she lifted her head just a little—her snout in the air.

"That's it, Twilight. Coffee. The coffee is ready," Spike said as he carried the gigantic mug over to the table. "She tried using magic to grab the mug a few times, but she's not the best at magic until she's already had coffee. Here you go, hot, delicious coffee."

The moment Spike had the mug close to her snout, Twilight lunged. Her forehooves pinned the mug to the table like a cat with some poor creature. She shoved her snout in and practically inhaled the coffee.

"Three," Spike said. "Two. One. Aaaand…"

Twilight's head shot up straight and she looked around. Blinking hurriedly, she focused on Addera first and then myself. "Good morning! Did you both sleep well?"

I stared at her. She looked completely awake, her mane and tail looked perfect, and I had no idea how she'd done it. "C-Could I please have some coffee too?"

Addera turned and glared at me from behind her glasses. "Good morning, Twilight Sparkle. We slept wonderfully. Not quite what we are used to, but we don't all have chilly castles and cold stones to sleep on. A warm kitchen was a treat." She slithered over to the table.

Following Addera, I sat up beside her on a chair. To my surprise, Spike set a smaller mug of coffee down before me. "That was fast. Thank you."

"With the way Twilight drinks coffee, an enchanted coffee pot was the first appliance we got here." Spike ran back to the stove. "Who wants the first pancakes?"

Before I could answer, Addera reached across and stuck her hoof against my snout. "Serve Twilight first, Spike the dragon, that way she can explain everything she found out last night to us while we eat."

Lifting up my mug carefully between my front hooves, I looked into the depths of the dark brew and inhaled. Just that one breath almost made my eyes water and my nostrils shrivel closed. Feeling more awake already, I tipped the cup and took a sip of it.

The coffee tasted way stronger than anything I'd been allowed to drink before (which wasn't much). This had more flavor to it and felt far stronger as it burned its way to my belly. Warmth spread out from there, and before I realized it I was taking another sip.

I felt Hedwig as she returned. Before she even landed in the window I could taste the mouse she'd eaten and feel my full belly—that was hers. When she landed on the window, I shuffled myself a little so she'd be able to land on my back—which she did a moment later.

'I caught a mouse.'

The memories of her flying, hunting, eating, and even flying back poured into me. I couldn't stop them. Flying as Hedwig was great, but I knew time was passing and I couldn't stop the playback. Hedwig… Please stop.

Panic and worry flooded me. The memories snapped off and I felt her gently rubbing her beak into my mane.

'You didn't want?'

Not right now. When we're on the train would be better. Blinking away the aftereffects of her memories, I realized I was staring at a plate of blueberry-covered pancakes with a dollop of ice-cream on them.

Everyone was looking at me.

"Sorry. Hedwig was showing me what she'd been doing, and it makes it hard to focus on other things." I hurriedly cast a Locomotion charm on the knife and fork before me before realizing everyone was still looking at me. "What?"

Addera hissed sharply. —Harry Potter, did you make that up?—

I blinked a few times and shook my head. "No… I mean, last night when Hedwig was touching me, I could see and hear everything she'd done flying back from Hogwarts. Just now she was really excited to show me the mouse she'd caught."

"That's a little more than what Fluttershy does, then. Is it just with Hedwig?" Twilight asked.

"This is, apparently, magic that has fallen out of favor with wizards and witches, Twilight Sparkle. Harry Potter has formed a familial bond with Hedwig. I know not the specifics, but that it gave the wizard or witch a mental bond with their familiar." Addera looked at me curiously. "In my day, it was seen as a way to control a powerful creature to do the wizard's bidding."

I gulped. The way Addera said it, that didn't sound like a nice thing to do at all.

'It's okay.'

Not really. You didn't get a say in this.

'Neither did you. Guess we're stuck.'

That's the most you've ever said. Okay, so I promise, Hedwig, not to give you orders. Is that good enough?

'Yes.'

Talking to you isn't as time-consuming as when you show me things. I really want to see your hunting, but let's wait until they're not all watching us, okay?

Hedwig didn't reply directly, just giving me a whistle that I knew to mean she agreed. Of course, that knowing could be part of the familiar bond. What if I made her think she wanted to? What if—

'You think too much.'

I giggled—it was impossible to resist. When everyone looked at me with concerned expressions, I managed to suppress my laughter. "Hedwig just told me I think too much. She was right, but I was worried that I would hurt her."

Addera reached out to me with her hoof and tilted my chin up so I was looking at her and not Hedwig. "You are a good snake, Harry Potter, and I'm sure you won't hurt your friend."

While I was still trying to piece together why she called me a snake, Hedwig pinched one of the pancakes Spike placed before me.

"What do you mean 'Good snake'?" I asked.

'She thinks you're her chick.'

"Slip of the tongue," Addera said.

It was hard to see, but I noticed the little bit of skin I could see in Addera's ears was a little pink—she was blushing! Another thing occurred to me; Addera normally said someone's name when she spoke—she always did—but she hadn't just now.

'She's embarrassed. Hug her.'

What?

'Hug her now.'

I climbed down from my seat and pulled it with me as I edged around the end of the table so I was sitting beside Addera. Climbing back up onto my seat, I looked up at her only to see her looking back down curiously. Hugging her was easier said than done when she was thicker around than my legs were long.

"Harry Potter, what are you—"

Improvising, I simply walked on my seat so I was close to her, reared up, and hugged her as best I could. It felt better than I thought it would. There was a few moments of just me hugging her before Addera brought the end of her tail around my back to hug me in return.

My emotions swamped me and I gripped Addera tighter still. Pressing my face against her scales, I couldn't stop myself from crying. I hadn't hugged someone like this in—I'd never hugged anyone like this.

I didn't want to let go.

"C'mon. Keep quiet." Lucian Bole edged away from the portal as quickly as he could with Helena Fowley in tow. All the while, he scanned around the tents looking for where all the wizards were and, more importantly, where Draco Malfoy was.

"Let go of me!" Draco Malfoy was completely done with being pushed around. Turning a little to her side, she twisted a little further—just like she'd seen a horse do once—and kicked at Vincent Crabbe's flank.

From there, and with her left side now devoid of anyone shoving her too closely, Draco drew her wand from her robes and pointed it at the ground before her. A spell she knew well from her practice with dueling, Draco cast the Snake Summons spell. Unlike normal such spells, however, Draco had a trick up her sleeve.

Spotting the snake and hearing the transfiguration charm—though she recognized it had been changed slightly—Jenny Sparks turned as she drew her wand and did the expected thing.

Snake-Vanishing spells were the typical counter to what Draco had just done, and she wasn't at all surprised to hear Jenny casting it. When a puff of black smoke shot out at the snake and failed to vanish it, of course, that made it quite the surprise. "Good girl. Don't inject them unless they deserve it, remember?"

Wheeling around the other side, Draco broke into a gallop while the large reptile placed itself between her and her possible pursuers.

"That's gotta be Draco," Helena said at the sound of shouting. "Or, maybe Potter's friendly snake came through?"

"Nah. Draco. She was practicing that special Snake-Summoning spell. Come on, I can hear hooves close by." Winding around a tent, his ears twitching this way and that as he narrowed on his target. "There she is!"

"Draco!" Yelling loud enough to get Draco's attention and—hopefully—not that of the wizards trying to deal with the snake, Helena lifted one of her wings out from under her robe and waved.

Freezing for a moment, Draco decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and ran over to Lucian and Helena. "What are you two doing here?"

"Grab onto me with your wings." Lucian barely had time to snarl out the words while he shoved his snout under his robes and pulled out his wand. "Hold tight—as if your lives depend on it."

With but a moment to realize what Lucian had planned, Draco flicked her wand and recalled her snake to its pocket within her robes. Knowing things were about to go from horrible to terrible, she wrapped one wing around Lucian's neck and held tight. "Do you have a license to Appa—?"

Helena gripped tighter and tighter as it felt like she turned inside out. Disapparition, however, was never the problem. Though it felt like she was being squeezed by a giant snake, she kept her grip and hoped against hope that Lucian knew what he was doing.

Lucian was three months away from being able to apply for his Apparition license. He'd been taking lessons as a side-class in school, and had it down pretty well. When Apparating solo, at least. There was something that drove Lucian Bole, however, and that was the same thing that had sent him out on this wild chase.

His focus firmly on the back-alley in Hogsmeade, one he'd slipped away to many times to hide from teachers, Lucian's mind was a rock for the two girls to grip to as he shoved them all through the darkest place and finally onto the dirt path in Hogsmeade.

Unlike Lucian and Draco, Helena had never Apparated before, and being slammed back into reality, though she didn't suffer any splinching, caused her to spend her lunch on the ground.

Draco looked at Lucian and could see her benefactor looked stunned—his ears tucked back and eyes wide. "Are you okay, Lucian?"

"Oi! What're you lot doin' there?" Orondo Cinch raised his wand and quickly worked a Wand-Lighting charm. "Who the bloody hell dressed little 'orses up?" He started forward to investigate the three equines, when one raised a wand and pointed it at him.

There wasn't a lot of excitement in the job of wandkeeper in Hogsmeade—not usually at least. All the students heading to school for the first time usually purchased their wands from his boss, Garrick Ollivander of Diagon Alley. As such, having a winged pony pointing a wand at him with clear intelligence in their eyes told Orondo all he needed to know. "Look, I don't want any trouble. If you need some 'elp undoing a Transfiguration curse, I know someone who—"

Curling one of her wings in, Draco held her wand in her feathers—still pointed at Orondo. "We can deal with that later! Take us somewhere warm!" Command came easily to Draco, particularly when someone she considered a friend (and what else could she really call Lucian after this escapade) was in trouble.

Authoritative voices might have power, but Orondo was not someone to be swayed so simply. "I'll do nothing of the sort unless you tell me who you are."

"We're students from Hogwarts. Sh—He's Draco Malfoy." Helena was fighting with her nausea. "My name's Helena Fowley. Now take us somewhere warm before we find someone who will and get our parents involved."

Draco hadn't actually wanted to play on her name, but under the circumstances she wouldn't fault Helena. "Sooner would be better than later."

"Y-Y-Yes. Of course!" Turning Orondo started off down the alley toward its mouth. "This way. My shop's just around the corner." Though he planned to give them somewhere warm to rest, he also planned to contact Lucius Malfoy—it didn't do to make mistakes where his family was concerned.

Struggling to move, Lucien felt stiff and sore all over. He'd strained himself two Side-Alongs, but he was determined not to slow them down. "D-Don't trust 'im," he managed to whisper to Draco, "an' don't tell 'im my name."

Orondo led the way out of the alley and, as he'd promised, to his shop. The building wasn't exactly the warmest, but he'd just been in the back area, so the stove there was still radiating some warmth. "Come in. Who's your friend?"

Helena opened her mouth to reply, but caught a jab in her side from Draco's wing. It wasn't code for anything, but she wasn't the stupidest Slytherin. "Harry Potter." The moment she said it, Helena regretted it.

Draco pulled her own wing around and thumped herself in the forehead with it. "You've probably heard how great he is at everything? Particularly getting into trouble." As Draco told the absolute truth, she started to warm to the idea of besmirching Harry's name a little. "He got lost and we, being far better at getting out of trouble, took off after him. You can imagine how well that's gone?" Draco lifted one wing up and gave it a demonstrative flap.

It matched up to everything Orondo knew of Harry Potter. He'd heard, on many the occasion in The Three Broomsticks, various teachers swapping stories of what Harry had done in and out of class. "I can well imagine. If you'll give me but a minute, I'll contact your father via Floo and let him know your whereabouts."

So simple. So bad. Draco tried to think quickly to change the wandkeeper's mind, but before she could think of something, Orondo had grabbed up some Floo powder and tossed it on the dying coals of the big fireplace.

What surprised Draco most was the face that appeared in the fire. "Dobby?"

"You'll have to excuse Dobby, sirs, but his master can't come to the fireplace right now. Please try again later." The image of the house-elf faded and was gone.

Loathe as Orondo was to deal with the three "Transfigured" students any longer than he had to, the unwillingness of Malfoy Manner to accept guests stymied even his attempt to identify one of his visitors. But, their story checked out. It wasn't unusual to catch the students of Hogwarts pulling gags on each other, and turning their friends into little horses seemed a good laugh.

It had completely slipped Orondo's mind that something stranger still had happened to Hogwarts itself. "Guess you'll be sleeping the night at The Three Broomsticks. Come on and I'll get you a room. I was just on my way over there when I spotted you."

"Can you not tell them who we are?" Helena was determined to not be dead-weight, and that meant accounting for herself well. "Only, it'd be ever so embarrassing if our parents caught us—well—having gotten into this much trouble? Don't worry, we'll put in a good word that you helped us."

The affected accent Helena used caught Draco between mirth and outrage. She wanted to demand Helena stop, and cheer for more at the same time. Draco opted to say nothing.

"S'pose it'd be worth my while. Alright then, anonymous whelps, follow me." Some wizards of his station might use the opportunity to berate or lord it over two pure-blood family scions and Harry Potter, but Orondo Cinch wasn't stupid enough to think that in just twenty years, when the scions were wizards and witches in their own right, he wouldn't have them doing the same thing back to him. It wasn't very wise to take advantage of a short-term situation at the cost of the future.

Draco and Helena both let out a sigh and, supporting Lucian as best they could, followed Orondo to the The Three Broomsticks and inside. The famous (to anyone who'd ever been to Hogwarts) pub was quiet that night, but for a few regulars sitting in one corner—huddled over their drinks.

Orondo walked up to the bar and let loose a sneeze. "On top of everything else, I'm getting a cold?"

"Here was me thinking you was Hagrid. Orondo, what with the horses following—Are those Hogwarts uniforms?" Madam Rosmerta looked over her bar at the three ponies following Orondo into her bar. "What's going on here?"

Some had warned Orondo that the publican of The Three Broomsticks was a wild enchantress who was better at pulling the truth from a wizard than veritaserum, and it was true. She had only to set her eyes upon him, quirk one eyebrow, and tilt her hip and he was opening his mouth to blurt the names he'd heard.

"Just a little mistake with a spell, Madam Rosmerta." Helena had seen enough boys fall sideways at a girl's looks before to recognize Orondo's situation. "We just need somewhere to spend the night—I'm sure Headmaster Dumbledore will sort out some galleons for it…" She looked finally at Orondo, who nodded vigorously in support of her words.

"Something's not quite right here." Rosmerta's eyes slid to glance at her regulars, then back to her visitors. "Out with it. If you keep your voices down, no one'll hear us."

"It all started," Draco said, "when Hogwarts up and vanished on us. We were out in the woods helping Harry here with a problem when the whole thing disappeared with a pop. The magic left behind was horrible, and when we tried to work out what had actually happened, our spells went wrong and we—we got turned into ponies, ma'am."

Creating believable lies, Draco knew, meant weaving truth into them. She didn't for a moment believe that no one had noticed Hogwarts disappearing for a week, so slipping that fact into her lie made it much easier to swallow.

Rosmerta wasn't born yesterday, however. She knew Draco was lying about something—she could smell the lies on his words—but what with Hogwarts disappearing and matching up with at least some of the story, she was willing to give three scared schoolchildren a pass. "Get upstairs with ya. Dump Harry in the first room on the right, and you girls take the second. I'll be up with a meal for the lot of you in a few minutes."

Adjusting her wing around Lucian's back, Draco hauled the bigger pony—with Helena's help—up the stairs and into the bedroom Rosmerta had requested. What surprised Draco was how strong her wings were. With her hooves planted on the floor, lifting Lucian (again, with Helena's help) didn't seem all that hard.

"Th-Thanks." Lucian felt about as good as the time he'd tried some of The Three Broomsticks' more adult beverages. His head felt thick, his body felt wrong, and the room seemed to keep moving in the wrong ways.

Draco froze at the word. What did it mean to her to be thanked when Lucian had gone to such an extent to help her. It was insane how many laws Lucian had broken to get Draco out of having to see her parents, which made it even crazier. Lucian was a Slytherin, Draco told herself, he'll want something for this.

"Yeah yeah. Remember, you're Harry Potter if anyone asks, right?" Draco asked.

Blinking a few times rapidly, Lucian had a moment to nod, regret nodding, and close his eyes before he passed out.

"Come on. He'll remember what you told him. Now we have to face Madam Rosmerta." Helena started for the door, then looked back at Draco. "You know there'll be people talking if a girl spends the night in a boy's bedroom, right?"

The realization hit Draco so fast she started to spread her wings to get out before she remembered she was inside. "Why'd he do all this?"

Closing the door behind her with a wing, Helena was surprised at how much she'd learned about her new appendages in the last hour. "He's a big softy is why. Look past the fists and low brow and you'll see someone who isn't just smart, he's kind too."

Draco almost contradicted the answer. She hadn't had to deal with Lucian's bullying behavior before the whole mess started, but she knew well from other Slytherin students how rough Lucian played. Then it hit her. "He only beats up on boys?"

"I think it's more the other way around. He's only nice to girls, but don't double-cross him or he might just remember that you weren't one a month ago. He keeps his friends close, too." Helena walked to the next room and in the door Draco opened. "Thanks."

"Why did you come?" Draco asked as she closed the door behind Helena.

Helena thought over what she could say as she walked over to the bed. "I could say he made me come, but that's far from the truth. I felt cramped in the castle. I'd been looking forward to finishing the year, but then this"—she lifted her wings out just enough to make her point—"happened, and I had to get away however I could."

"So you're going to split as soon as we get out of here?" Draco walked to the bed, too, but was startled when the door behind her opened.

"I hope you like vegetable stew. I woke Harry up and he almost inhaled his." Madam Rosmerta looked between Draco and Helena. "Whatever lies you told me, you best hope they aren't dangerous ones. I'll be contacting your parents first thing in the morning to let them know what has happened. Eat up."

Draco stared at the doorway after Rosmerta left. "Well damn."

"Why didn't you—why don't you—want to go home? Your parents will get this sorted out, right?" Helena used her wing to hold the spoon, practicing a few times until she worked out it was more than capable enough to be used to eat with.

"And if it can't? What if I'm stuck like this?" Wanting nothing more than to turn her nose up at the stew, Draco found her mouth watering at the smell and started reaching for her spoon with her own wing—mimicking Helena.

"What about it? You think your parents won't—" Helena froze. Lucius Malfoy was several kinds of notorious as to how far in the air his nose was. "Your father wouldn't dis—"

"He would. I was his heir. Women don't get to be heirs—not according to my father." Draco's anger boiled for a moment and she contemplated throwing the bowl of stew at the wall. Her stomach, however, reminded her that she was hungry.

Helena rolled her eyes and tried to support Draco a little. "Was his heir? Doesn't sound like the self-assured Draco Malfoy I remember from his first two years."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not that Draco Malfoy anymore. If you hadn't noticed, I'm a—I'm a small, female horse."

"Who can fly without a broom."

Draco stopped her own comeback only by stuffing her mouth with stew.

"And who can beat Harry Potter in a duel." When Draco still didn't respond, Helena continued. "And had the guts to fight for Hogwarts against a worse evil wizard than You-Know-Who."

Finally seeing a point she could make, Draco spoke up before Helena could attest any further things to her. "Everyone did that, though. We literally all helped fight off Sombra."

"Not every second year was still standing, casting spells—not every Slytherin was still able to stand. They only drove you back, I heard, with weight of numbers. Something about a swarm of snakes some clever wizard summoned."

"I wasn't going to use Bess. With those kinds of numbers, she'd get hurt." Draco lifted the side of her robe up and reached into one of the enchanted pockets inside it.

Bess the snake slithered out of her home and wound her way up Draco's foreleg before settling in a triple-loop around Draco's neck. She leaned forward to find a feather start stroking under her neck rather than the more familiar finger—she wasn't concerned.

"What kind of snake is that? I don't think I've ever seen one like it." Trusting Draco to warn her if she was getting too friendly with the reptile, Helena leaned forward to examine the dull patterned creature.

Draco smiled at her friendly pet. "Of course you wouldn't recognize her. Father would only have the best for me. Bess is a taipan—an Australian snake. Excepting magical snakes, and water snakes, she's the most deadly snake in the world."

Helena knew better than to scream. She also didn't make any sudden movements that might startle the snake. She did slowly lean back so that Bess was as far away as two ponies sitting on the same bed could be. "M-Most deadly?"

"Well, she's an inland taipan. Her venom's more deadly than the others', but she doesn't inject much of it." Bess was one of the few things in Draco's life that had always brought her joy. Her father had purchased the taipan as a gift and a test both—a Malfoy who couldn't master a snake was no Malfoy in his eyes, and what better test than the most deadly snake (apart from magical ones, of course) in the world? What Lucius Malfoy hadn't anticipated was how attached Draco would be to the snake.

"You've had her a—a while?"

"All her life and most of mine." Draco reached into another pocket with a hoof and lifted out a mouse. The poor little mammal was already still, but when Draco held it up by its tail, Bess struck quickly.

Draco wasn't the first student Helena had met who had a pet snake, though Bess certainly took the cake for most deadly pet in Hogwarts—now that Helena knew of her. "How'd you get a cloak to fit your pony body with all those enchanted pockets?"

Eating her stew while Bess at her mouse, Draco smiled. "I yelled at a wardrobe for an hour."

The answer seemed perfectly reasonable to Helena, though there was probably some muggles that might have trouble believing it. She kept eating her stew, but now she was a little more wary of Draco. At last she wanted to know something, "You summoned her into their midst, didn't you?"

"At Hogwarts? No. She would have gotten hurt. She would have also killed a lot of ponies." That none had died in the whole encounter was still a shock to everyone concerned—a shock and a relief. "Back at the camp with all the wizards? I needed something to distract them, and I knew none would think to do anything but a banishing on her."

"Which didn't work because she wasn't a magical construct of a snake, she was a real snake. She didn't bite anyone?"

"I asked her not to. She's a good girl, aren't you, Bess?" Draco smiled at Bess and used her feathers to again caress the snake's jaw. "She's really quite friendly."

"I'll take your word for it." What worried Helena, of course, was that she'd have to sleep in the same room as Draco, which meant sleeping in the same room as Bess. "Okay, this won't work unless I can pet her at least once. Is she friendly enough to let me pet her?"

"If I ask her to be. Will you let Helena pet you, Bess?" Draco asked.

Looking up at her companion, Bess hissed noncommittally.

Draco smiled. "She said it's okay."

"You're a parselmouth?"

"Not at all. We're just friends."

Having an Imperius curse cast upon you was a horrible fate, by all accounts. Just imparting the spell upon on another being was a crime the wizarding world punished by life imprisonment.

Yet Bartemius Crouch Jr. lived with that horrible magic worming its way through his head like a fat slug that devoured his freedom. Every idea he had to get free of his father's vice-like grip was eaten up by the spell and for hours after having them he felt empty. In a way, it was how the insidious spell worked to suppress those under its effects—it trained them not to think that way.

Bartemius—Barty—Crouch Jr. was not someone who gave up easily, or who took to such training easily either. Rather than avoid the emptiness the spell inflicted upon him, he used it as a tool to avoid his father's attention. He probed at his memories and thoughts, tested how far he could think about departing his prison before the curse took hold, and he huddled in the invisibility cloak he could no sooner remove than leave the house.

"Mr. Crouch? You haven't eaten." When Bartemius didn't reply, Winky the house-elf approached him. "You need to eat."

"Why, Winky?" The curse let up when it was just Bartemius and Winky, or Bartemius and his father. While he hated his father with a passion that was only held in check by the curse, he wasn't exactly enthused with Winky either. For a start, she was his father's tool.

"Mr. Crouch wants to get free, doesn't he?" Winky knew Bartemius couldn't directly answer, so continued herself. "To get free, Mr. Crouch needs his strength. Opportunity rarely knocks twice, Mr. Crouch."

Fighting with himself to not focus on her words, Bartemius picked up the bowl of stew and started eating the delicious, hot meal. Each mouthful was bliss to his senses, and he let it distance himself from the monster his father had put in his head.

Sitting beside Bartemius, Winky leaned herself against his invisible body without having to give his location a second thought. To her eyes, invisibility was a beacon.

A tingling sensation ran up and down Bartemius' left arm and settled over the dark mark there. He ignored it, as he had to, but when power flared in his limb, he arched his back and looked up into the air and screamed.

Jerking away from Bartemius, Winky looked around for what had attacked him. It took the house-elf several seconds of his screaming to realize the cloak around his shoulders and covering his head was no longer making him invisible. "M-M-Mr. Crouch!"

Hands curling into claws, Bartemius grabbed at his left wrist with his right hand and pulled it free of his sleeve. The mark on his arm throbbed and boiled with black-purple smoke. What startled him more was that he could look at and think about his dark mark without the curse eating away at his mind.

A profound sense of loss hit him, and without any other means he knew it signaled the true death of his master. Before grief could set in, however, a new power touched him. That black-purple smoke boiled around his arm and reshaped the dark mark into a horse's head—adding a red horn to it. A new master had marked his minion and freed the way for them to unite.

Taking his first truly free breath since his father had denounced him and sentenced him to life in Azkaban, Bartemius Crouch Jr. stood up and cast his cloak off. "Winky, on behalf of my father I give you that cloak and invite you to join me as my servant."

The offer, the gift, shocked Winky. She stared up at Bartemius with mild shock and utter devotion. Starting to nod her head as a big smile spread over her lips, Winky gathered up the ruined invisibility cloak and bowed her head. "Of course, Master Cr—"

"Call me Master Barty, Winky." Power—new and raw—poured through Bartemius' left arm. "I need to get a wand and find this new lord—the horse-king."

Princess Celestia stood at one end of the large table in the stonework castle that had become part of the Crystal Empire.

There would be room for nearly ten ponies down each side, though only four sat there—two on each side. Gemma Farley and Minerva McGonagall sat on one side, while Princess Cadance and Shining Armor sat opposite them.

At the opposite end sat Herbert Trencent and Richard Fellows. Both tried to focus on the fact they were meeting beings, not beasts. "Shall we begin?" Richard asked.

"Indeed. How goes your efforts at evacuation?" Princess Celestia wore her full regalia and didn't for a moment consider sitting.

Herbert Trencent cleared his throat. "Our efforts go. We are grateful that you have not interfered, and plan to make a full report on what's transpired here—for our superiors—the moment we've compiled such. My colleague has convinced me that our best course of action is undoubtedly to find someone with the proper authority. Until then, we'll evacuate every wizard or witch, no matter their current form."

"That won't be necessary." Minerva had been wanting to interrupt the man, but her courtesy toward the Ministry held her in check. "I am the headmistress of Hogwarts, and I've already made my decision. I stay with this castle and teach what students put themselves forward to be taught."

Richard smiled and gestured at the room around them. "With all due respect, acting headmistress, but Hogwarts and its grounds are still part of Great Britain. My colleague and I aren't asking your permission to escort you back, we're—"

Princess Celestia imposed her voice on the conversation. "I find myself in full agreement with your government."

"Stop this." Princess Cadance, standing up, stomped her hoof on the flagstone floor. "The land the castle is now resting on belongs to the Crystal Empire. As the newly appointed rulers of the Crystal Empire, Prince Shining Armor and myself are the only ponies with the right to claim who may and may not remain here."

A shiver of excitement ran through Princess Celestia. This was exactly the kind of thing she'd hoped for, though Cadance's wording was a little upsetting to her own plans.

Shining Armor stood up in support of his wife. "As Princess Cadance just said, we are the rulers here by right of consensus. The crystal ponies were asked to vote, they chose us to lead them. We will continue to do so until they are unhappy with us. In the interest of friendship, we've extended friendship and citizenship to the current residents of Hogwarts, and any adult students who wish it."

Keeping from smiling only thanks to her years spent teaching students who constantly find ways to pleasantly surprise her, Minerva stood up and gave a short tip of her head across the table. "Thank you for your support, Your Highnesses. I hope Hogwarts can serve the students of the Crystal Empire and"—she turned to face the Ministry representatives—"and continue to teach Great Britain's wizards and witches. Should they be willing to come, of course. I do trust you're arranging for Hogwarts to be reestablished on the Floo Network?"

"Princess Celestia," Princess Cadance said while already on the offensive, "we will of course continue to welcome your presence as well as the presence of your Royal Guard."

"And too," Shining Armor said, on queue, to Richard and Herbert, "we welcome the presence of your people too. The Crystal Empire will be a fine neighbor to both your realms."

Richard Fellows let out a snort into the growing silence of the room. "They've got us. Oh, come on, Herbert, it's out of our hands anyway. We might as well congratulate them on this. I'm not precisely sure what governance your countries have here, but I personally wish you the best of luck."

"You still shouldn't say that, Richard. We should at the very least demand the return of every artifact and item belonging to Hogwarts as it stood as a school in Great Britain." Herbert Trencent had lost, and he didn't like losing, which meant he was going to be a little sore about it. "Starting with the furniture."

"Of course!" Gemma had been sitting back. She had no weight of her own to throw around in this meeting, and only represented the few students who had put their hands (although mostly hooves) up to remain at the school. "The Ministry is welcome to fetch all the furniture it requires from Hogwarts. I would warn you as to the implications of using magic to shift any of it, however."

This time Richard's laugh was more open. "Come on, Herbert. They're all much better at politics than we are. Let them play their games and we'll retire back to the Ministry and have them send someone who walks this walk."

Herbert Trencent, however, didn't make a move to get up.

"You can continue this line yourself, Herbert. I was sent here in case you had to deal with magical beasts. There are none here. Nor are there any beings requiring obliviation." Richard Fellows gestured to the door with his unlit pipe. "You'll excuse me, good people, but I must return to the Ministry and get back to work."

Stuck now, Herbert nervously watched his fellow leave the room and sighed. He was at a disadvantage if he stayed—Richard would be able to make a report without any opposing viewpoint. He was also not exactly enthusiastic about leaving as that would mean any decisions made here would be without Ministry supervision.

"My colleague has left me in a bind, and I'm sure you well know that. My duty is, first and foremost, to the Ministry. Though it may cost me personal prestige to stay, I am not so much of a politician yet that I can't put aside my personal gains to ensure the Ministry is properly represented here." Herbert might not have liked the situation, but he was a wizard dedicated to his job.

The words had meaning to Gemma, but not quite the same as what the man had said. They betrayed division between his and his colleague's points of view, though it did show the man to be a little less of an idiot than she'd hoped for. "Perhaps we can be somewhat helpful to the Ministry in retrieving their property. If you submit a list, we'll be sure to deliver anything a teacher or student doesn't claim as their personal property."

Minerva was only starting to realize how cutthroat Gemma was. Slytherin, Minerva mused, had fostered some spectacular minds—and continues to.

"A school," Princess Celestia said, "is not something Equestria would ever see as a pawn. If Hogwarts requires any equipment I may be able to supply—to teach young ponies or humans—you can trust that I'll provide it."

A staring match started from one end of the long table to the other. Princess Celestia, however, had enjoyed a life long enough that she could out-stare a cockatrice without attracting snails.

That she gracefully smiled at her counterpart at the meeting. "I'm sure that we'll both have some things to talk about regarding the disposition of Hogwarts, but ultimately it is a matter for the sovereigns of the Crystal Empire."

Shining and Cadance both gasped just a little at the phrasing and outright acknowledgment of their rulership.

"In that case," Minerva said, trying to recapture the conversation, "I believe we will await the list of items from the Ministry, and look forward to conversing with such a generous sponsor." She turned to look first at Herbert then at Celestia as she mentioned the actions of each. Once she'd acknowledged both external forces, she turned to look across the table at Shining and Cadance. "Your Highnesses?"

Author's Notes:

King Sombra, do you have a plan if hypothetically Celestia let Discord free?

"Then I would consider her unfit to rule even a classroom. You don't let your enemies free to challenge you again—you crush them beneath your hoof." Sombra's voice grew colder as he spoke. "He is a menace to all of Equestria. She should never have imprisoned him in the first place."

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Expedition

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The train ride, and my conversation about my mental contact with Hedwig, seemed to go by all in a rush. Hedwig sat beside me on the seat and I could feel her and hear her thoughts regarding everything from what we were saying to the landscape flowing by outside the train.

Addera looked on with a passive expression. I was sure, half the time, she didn't even realize she was expressing herself with her face. Snakes certainly couldn't, but her face wasn't that of a snake anymore. Her ears were the biggest tell she had—flicking around to track sounds, turning to the sides if she was relaxed, or folding back when she was annoyed (annoyed in a friendly way, not annoyed in a serious way). "And how do you feel about this link, Harry Potter?"

"I kinda like it, but we both need to keep our boundaries a little. She got really excited last night about catching that mouse, and I couldn't stop her from showing me—until I managed to ask her." Closing my eyes, I tried to mentally reach toward Hedwig. What do you think about it?

'I like it.'

I snorted at that. "Hedwig says she likes it. She doesn't say much most of the time. I mean, a lot of things at once. She keeps to short sentences."

"'Most of the time', Harry Potter? She has spoken at length?"

"Well, she normally says a few words, but she said a lot more earlier on." I thought back to what she'd said. "Maybe ten words."

'I prefer short sentences. I can say more with less.'

I know you can.

Hedwig made a happy whistling sound that carried no direct words, but did well to let me know what she thought of my praise.

"Ten words is hardly at length, Harry Potter."

I'd never heard any other snakes talk the way Addera did—always using my full name. I wonder if it was a basilisk thing, or just a her thing?

'Probably just her.'

She doesn't do it for everyone. It's mostly just me.

'Then it's definitely just her.'

Why would you say that? Just because she's only doing it for me?

Hedwig only whistled in response. Well, if she wouldn't tell me more, it was time to ask the source. "She puts a lot into ten words. Addera, why do you keep using my full name?"

I had her full attention. Her ears perked forward and she turned more of herself to face me. "I think you already know the answer to that, Harry Potter."

Groaning at her reply, I reached a hoof up to rub at the back of Hedwig's neck—right where I felt an itch from her. "You make a great witch, you know that?" I said to Addera.

"Compliments will get you everywhere, Harry Potter."

'Do you want to see me hunt now?'

"I think I'm going to lay down so Hedwig can show me her hunting from earlier. She's really excited about it." I lowered my chest down to the soft seat and got comfortable. Hedwig jumped up on my back and I felt Addera's tail start coiling around me when I was flying.

'Is this okay?'

Yes! This is great! Where are we going?

'Over here! Look! A mouse!'

'We're stopping.'

I felt like I was diving into a lake—or out of one. Hedwig's world and everything she experienced seemed to flow away and off me as I splashed into my own body again. Yawning, I looked up to see Addera coiled around me while Hedwig was somewhere on my back.

Outside the train, it looked like there were miles and miles of red rocks and sand. Small bushes here and there only made it look worse—like some kind of desert. "Where are we?"

"This is the end of the line," Twilight Sparkle said. "We have to go on hoof from here. I'm not sure exactly where they are, but I at least know what direction."

Looking over at her, I adjusted my glasses and saw she'd picked up her pack and was putting it on with her magic. It was still amazing to see that much magic being used for such a simple thing. I wonder what would happen if I just threw all my magic into one thing.

Actually, I remember what happened when I tried with fire. Being a wizard inside a train might be a bad idea.

Climbing out of Addera's tail was always a difficult process. Her coils weren't moving much right now, but I knew how quick she would act if she didn't want something to leave her grip. I climbed slowly to the highest coil her tail made, then bunched my limbs under me and jumped off—at the same time the train lurched to a full stop.

Shouting with excitement, I adjusted my flight and twisted so that I would land on a seat two up from where I'd meant to land. It was the best landing ever, and I had no idea how I'd done it.

'You twisted in the air'

Yeah, I kinda worked that out, but I don't know how I did that. Maybe it's a kirin thing. Stepping down from the seat as if I'd meant the whole acrobatics show, I trotted back to where Twilight and Addera were.

Addera looked down at me with a little smile on her snout. "Are you alright, Harry Potter?"

"Yeah. Just getting my footing." And not losing my balance while a train is stopping. "How long will it take to find the kirin?"

Hedwig hopped off the chair and onto my back as I walked past the chair we'd been on. 'You don't complain about my claws.'

Yeah. Like this your claws don't hurt me, so hold on as tight as you want.

"We're just not sure. We have directions and a map that shows a swamp and some kind of mesa to the east. Without knowing how quickly we'll get through the terrain, or what we might run into along the way, I can't really say how long. Spike packed us enough food for a week, though." Twilight revealed two large packs and floated one to Addera.

In turn, Addera passed me the pack we'd brought with us. Can you help me get it on right? With Hedwig's help, I got my old school backpack on without using a spell, and we headed out.

'I'm hungry.'

Not wasting any words, Hedwig shoved down on my back and launched herself into the air on silent wings.

"Good hunting!"

The swamp should have been difficult and annoying to get through. There was sucking mud everywhere, and any creature with four legs or two should have been doomed.

"Are you alright, Twilight?" I asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

We were sitting side by side in Addera's arms. It had been a simple Shrinking charm that reduced her to a little smaller than me—small enough that Addera could carry us both through the swamp.

Creatures with legs had trouble in swamps, but snakes (without legs) had no problem.

"I hate to think how long this would have taken if we'd walked. I'd love to learn how you did this magic so easily. It was like you didn't use any magic at all." She always sounded so upbeat. She had no idea how our spells worked, and had magic of her own, but that didn't seem to stop her from wanting to learn more.

"It's just how we do magic. I guess seeing you use so much to do simple things is amazing too. Maybe we could teach each other some spells?" A magic lesson, particularly in using some of the powerful magic I'd seen ponies use, would definitely make me more of a wizard.

"Are you both comfortable?" Addera's question was notable because she didn't use my full name.

Twilight seemed impervious to Addera's sarcasm. "You can learn too. I don't think we can start on spells yet, anyway. We'd need to learn each other's magic system first. So, the way we learn how to do magic is we start with exercises. Close your eyes."

I closed my eyes as she said.

"Now, breathe in slowly, and as you do, picture yourself inhaling magic and gathering it in your stomach."

I tried. I slowly breathed in, but I couldn't feel anything. "I don't feel it."

"You don't have to. Not right away. Just keep imagining it. Magic is built-up by patterns and repetition."

That got my attention. "Patterns? Repetition? That's how our magic works. People using patterns to make the spells do the same thing they've always done."

Twilight shuffled around a little in Addera's grip. "That's not exactly what I mean. Magic, at its base level, just wants to fit itself to patterns. We make spells by imagining patterns with our minds and letting our magic flow into them."

"Huh?"

"That isn't how you cast spells?" Twilight asked.

"Not exactly. We have different things we do to make them happen. Incantations, wand patterns, gestures with our hands, and most importantly we need the will to make them happen." As I said them, I started to think more on the mechanics of it. "Wait, are they like patterns?"

"Sounds like our magic isn't so dissimilar after all. Back to breathing. Close your eyes and breathe in again."

I closed my eyes and let her guide my breathing. She started with just breathing in and out again, then moved on to visualizing stuff again.

"Each breath in pulls magic into you. Hold that breath and let the magic flow up and into your horn. Breathe out and let your magic flow out of your horn."

"Keep going. Breathe in."

When I inhaled my next breath—trying to picture magic entering me—something different happened. It was a small amount at first, but as I deepened my breath, more magic rushed in.

I felt it dance over my lips and down my throat. When it filled me out inside, I almost trembled with how it felt.

"Let it flow up to your horn now. Feel it move through you."

The rush of magic that'd filled me did move. It poured up through me and into my horn, and I was startled by how right it felt. The potential seemed to sit there in my horn peacefully.

It was nothing like what I did when I turned nirik. I could have sat motionless like that all day.

"Now breathe out. Let the magic flow from your horn and leave you."

A yellow glow began just above my eyes as I started to exhale. I felt the magic flow back out, pouring from me in a storm-wind of power. Like when I'd seen any unicorn use magic, there was this rush of power that was extra intense because I'd made it.

"One more. Breathe in."

This time the magic wasn't as strong, but I felt it there again. I refocused on my breathing. Holding my breath and letting the magic flow into my horn, and then letting it back out again.

"There. How did that feel?" Twilight asked.

"What did you do? I really felt magic that time!" I snapped my eyes open to see Addera was nearing what looked like the edge of the swamp.

"For the penultimate time, I fed you magic so you would know what it feels like to do, but that last one was all yours. That was your own magic you were using."

"Penulti…?" I hadn't heard the word before, though it sounded familiar.

"It means second last." She didn't say it with condescension or anything. "You should try doing this exercise as much as you can, it will strengthen your magic reserves and teach you channeling."

Furrowing my brow, I tried to focus on continuing the breathing exercise. "We don't do this when we do magic. How's that different?"

"I'll need to do some research on it. Do you want to help me?"

Sitting up a little straighter in Addera's grip, I felt really excited about the prospect. "That'd be great! What do you need me to do?"

"We'll probably need to be somewhere a little more sterile, magically speaking. It's odd that there aren't any predators around here. I expected to see a fly-der or two at least." Twilight looked and acted completely comfortable with what was going on. Even wizards and witches wouldn't be this relaxed.

Addera let out a hissing chuckle that made me giggle along with her. "There are certain advantages in traveling with a large predator, Twilight Sparkle—the smaller ones tend to keep out of their way."

Looking a little confused, Twilight arched her head to look up at Addera. "Large predator?"

I managed to stop my giggling long enough to gesture to Addera with a hoof. "She's talking about herself. Snakes are all predators, remember. Unless there's something big enough or dangerous enough to take on a snake Addera's size, then we might get to watch her do her eye-thing."

"The mind-control thing? I must admit, it's not a topic I've explored. It wasn't like Princess Celestia's school was going to have lessons on taking over Equestria with magic," Twilight said.

"Princess Celestia's school? She runs the country and teaches?" It seemed crazy. I mean, I was pretty sure Dumbledore or McGonagall didn't take time out of their day of teaching to run down the parliament and—and do whatever it was the PM did.

"Well, she wasn't teaching all the time. We had three classes a week with her." She was blushing a little—I could practically hear her winding up to say more. "Well, for the class. She was my personal mentor."

"The end of the swamp is ahead, Harry Potter, Twilight Sparkle." At Addera's words, Twilight seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Was she embarrassed about being the personal student of the country's leader?

Thinking on the subject had reminded me that I'd been expected to be chased down. Had no one noticed me missing, or were they chasing after us at this exact moment? Addera dumped Twilight and myself onto the dry ground just past the muck of the swamp.

Pointing my horn at Twilight, I barked out the incantation to reverse the Shrinking charm with an Engorgement charm. The odd thing was, these were meant to be hard spells to work on a person, but they seemed far easier than even the ones we'd practiced in class.

Maybe I was just that good of a wizard now, or perhaps it was this world's magic being so much easier to cast. I'm sure it's one of those things—maybe both.

Twilight stretched and turned around to Addera. "Thanks for carrying us. Can I do anything for you? Maybe wash all the mud off?"

Not that I'd seen her do much apart from save the world, but it turned out Twilight was pretty handy with spells herself. She did something with her horn that caused lots and lots of water to shoot from it.

Every time I saw her do magic, I was reminded that I should be practicing that breathing exercise. I managed to get through a few before Twilight was done washing Addera.

"So now what?" I asked.

"Now we have to go up. The Peaks of Peril were specifically where the kirin live, and that's up there." Twilight pointed up to the cliffs nearby. Huge and angry-red, the cliffs were topped by what looked like some kind of trees.

Arching my neck to look up at the top of the cliffs, I had a big question. "So how do we get up there?"

Albus Dumbledore stepped through the hole in the wall behind the painting of the fat lady and closed it again behind him. A little shorter, a little stranger, but he still wore a bright smile as he walked down the hall toward the Gryffindor common room.

Spotting a familiar face (even though every student in the school was familiar, Albus was glad in particular to spot one of the older students), Albus cleared his throat. "Lee? Go and let everyone know I want them all in the common room for a meeting."

Walking up to the fireplace, Albus found a salamander sitting on a big log. "Well, hello there. Enjoying yourself?" Refraining from reaching in to pet the creature with a hoof, Albus instead took up the fire poker (with a simple Locomotion charm) to give it a scratch under its chin.

The residents of Gryffindor house began arriving in small clumps. Albus remained focused on the salamander, however, his affinity with fire making the creature far more interesting to him than it would to a less eccentric wizard.

Walking into the common room, George Weasley paused at the sight of Professor Dumbledore playing with his pet, Ember.

"Here, don't look now George, but the headma—professor is playing with your pet." Fred elbowed his brother in the shoulder with a foreleg.

"Lee said it was just a meeting, but I'm pretty sure this is it. We'll be taken 'ome." George took a deep breath and walked toward Albus. "'Ello, professor, thanks again for the—"

"George Weasley." Albus liked saying the Weasley family name. He'd been saying it to various get of Arthur and Molly Weasley for a wonderful amount of time. "Do you have Ginevra with you?" Which is why it hurt so much to almost lose one in such a fashion.

"She asked for our Ron to carry her home." Fred settled down on the couch beside his brother and warmed his hooves before the fire. "Are we going back now?"

Albus let out a sigh. "Every student who is not graduating will need to return." He flicked his eyes to the growing mass of students in the common room. Gryffindor was mostly assembled, though there was one face in particular he was still missing.

Spotting Ron and Hermione, Albus set the poker back on its rack and stood up again. "Ronald Weasley, Miss Granger, have you seen Harry Potter?"

Ron looked to his brothers, then to Hermione, and finally back to Albus. "S-Sir, I haven't seen him all day. He—"

"He's gone, professor. He left with Addera yesterday morning." Hermione hadn't grown out of her no-shades-of-gray sense of the world, and that meant what Harry was doing was wrong. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Ron.

Turning to face Hermione, Ron stared at her as if she'd gone insane and started claiming quidditch was inferior to football. "You really are the worst sometimes. Why'd you have t' go and sell him out so quickly?"

Albus stared for a moment. It took all his years of experience to not yell but maintain his typical calm exterior. "Ronald Weasley, while I can fully understand your wanting to protect your friend, you should have let me know immediately. Miss Granger, I'll want to talk to you immediately following this meeting."

It was going to be a trying time, Albus realized. Centering himself around the here and now, he turned to look at the students of Gryffindor as a whole. "I've just come from a meeting with the Ministry of Magic's wizards and the rulers of this realm, and we're all in agreement that students must be escorted back to their families as soon as we're able."

Knowing his students, and knowing Gryffindor particularly, Albus paused to let them get their grumbling out of the way. He looked toward Ron and saw the young man look a little guilty. Childhood friendships were often built on odd notions of honor, Albus knew, and he'd seen Ron's resolve harden since the day he'd left Harry to face a fight alone. "Thank goodness for sensible young witches," he said under his breath.

Clearing his throat, Albus heard silence descend back upon the room. "All students who were graduating this year will be afforded the choice to make their own minds up, but the rest will have to return to their families. This is not negotiable." He knew all too well that some of his students would take that as a challenge. That's when it occurred to him how far ahead of the curve Harry Potter was. "Any of you who are eligible and wish to stay, please follow me, but the rest of you—Please begin packing your things."

"Sir?" George had already drawn straws with his twin and had come up (despite cheating) as the loser. "What about next year?"

Albus smiled at that. "That you're thinking of the future speaks well of you, Mr. Weasley. We hope to keep Hogwarts open to students for as long as there is a Hogwarts. Both Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor have granted us the opportunity to continue teaching." The news was a delight for Albus to deliver, in all senses of the word.

"But how would we get 'ere?" Fred asked.

"When we find out the details, we'll forward them to all prospective students." Looking to Hermione, Albus gave a little nod. "Now I must be leaving. I look forward to teaching many of you next year."

Walking through the common room, Albus made his way to the corridor that led back to the entrance of Gryffindor tower. Though his stride was long and purposeful, Albus could hear a pair of swift hooves clopping on the floor after him. "Miss Granger, I need you to tell me everything you know about where Harry has gone."

"Well…" Hermione launched herself into the description of what she'd found out—that Harry had left with Addera and Twilight Sparkle, and they were all going looking for Equestrian kirin.

"You're not a dragon and they're not dragons either." Torch had developed two things that made him a better than usual conversationalist: a thick skin (literally and figuratively) and patience—both of which were the reason why he wasn't looking to remain Dragon Lord for much longer.

Running the hatching grounds was a job for younger dragons. It had been the way of dragons for thousands of years to leave their children to watch over and teach the next generation. Adult dragons knew of their own failings, and though it galled them to admit even to themselves, those failings made them poor leaders.

But Dragon Lord Torch felt he had at least one big adventure still in store for him, and this creature and his two pets were definitely the signs of impending adventure.

Charles Weasley tried to ignore the odd tingling in his fingers. The simplest spell had made his hands itch, and though he hadn't cast anything since Whistlewing and Norbert's breakfasts, he couldn't deny there was definitely something odd about the magic in the world he'd landed in.

"They are dragons, they're just not—" Charlie stopped himself before he dove back into that argument again. The dragon before him was more dragon than he'd seen or heard about in his life. Torch was the length of a London bus if he was an inch. "Earth dragons." Inspiration made him smile and cast off hours of very poor argument. "Let's call them Earth Dragons, that way you guys are much different—being true dragons."

Rake breathed a sigh of relief and more than a little sulfur. She'd been the one who'd brought Charlie to the Dragon Lord, and for the first hour she'd regretted every second of the act. Now, however, things seemed to be reaching an agreement on what to call each other—something she hadn't thought was possible an hour earlier.

Laying on a sun-heated rock beside Torch, Rake had lost most of her initial interest in Charlie during the course of the discussion. "So you worked out what they are. What now?"

"And what did Inferno suggest?" Torch asked.

"He wanted to bite them all in half and see if they had crunchy centers." Some times Rake regretted being related to Inferno.

"And what do you think we should do with them?"

"Well, the upright one knows magic. It's kinda-sorta pony magic, but not really. I saw him waving a stick around as if it were as dangerous as a unicorn horn. The other two are kinda just really stupid and really weak dragons." Rake looked Charlie up and down. "Eh. If they can get their own food, they can stay. It's not like they're going to eat any of our gems."

Torch liked the sense Rake was making. Part of him was curious to know how well she'd do if he held a Gauntlet to see who would be the next Dragon Lord. The problem, he knew, was that there were faster dragons, braver dragons, and even stronger dragons than her. There was also a smarter dragon, but he was still working on his daughter to pull her out of the why isn't everything food? phase.

"A fair assessment. They're not our food, and we're too tough to be their food. What about you, Charlie, what do you think?" The urge to yawn hit Torch. As he got older, his metabolism would adjust itself around short bursts of action. Being active and cognizant every day would become a chore too hard for him to maintain.

Not that he'd show the dragons of the Dragon Lands that until his daughter was ready to fight her own challenge for the Gauntlet.

"You're asking me if you should drive us off?" It was a little incredulous to Charlie, but the world he'd landed in was nothing if not incredible.

"Yes." Torch held up one claw and picked a hunk of obsidian out from under it. Of the dragons living in the Dragon Lands, he was the biggest and oldest. "If I agree, I will make the decision a decree."

Charlie had been introduced to Torch as the Dragon Lord, but the way he spoke cemented how important he was to their society. "Okay, so first, all the points you made were good ones, but there's more. I have magic, and I don't mind using it to help dragons if you need something. Also"—Charlie had to close his eyes and focus on not losing his cool—"I have spent most of my life studying and helping dragons—Earth dragons. From the moment I first saw how amazing they were, I wanted to help them survive.

"Where I'm from, dragons—Earth dragons—are hunted for wand ingredients and by those who don't understand why they should be protected. They get seen as monsters and worse. Studying and helping dragons is what I've dedicated my life to."

"Well." Inhaling the oxygen rich air of the outer dens, Torch let it react in his lungs with his own fire and breathed out twin plumes of sulfur and hydrocarbon-rich air that bellowed into the sky like the twin smoke-stacks of an 18-wheeler truck accelerating. "I believe you. There have been ponies who have come with such conviction, and some of them were even counted as friends to dragons—they're part of the reason why we are at peace with the ponies. You have magic. Good. We have strength. Also good. Let's have magic and strength together."

As Torch spoke the last words, he leaned his willpower into the Bloodstone Scepter and let it carry his intent to the dragons of Dragon Lands.

"Rake. You're in charge of him. You are his strength. He is your magic. If either of you argue about it, I kill you both." Stretching his wings out and bunching his back legs, Torch launched himself into the air and left Charlie and Rake to look nervously at each other.

"Did he mean that? Killing us if we don't get along seems a bit—" Charlie fished for a word.

"That's Dragon Lord Torch for you. Smart dragon, but he didn't become Dragon Lord by showing weakness. So, you know magic?" Rake looked around for something interesting to do magic on. "Can you, like, blow anything up with it?"

The idea of telling Rake that he wasn't certain how much he'd be able to use his magic came and went quickly. Showing a dragon fear was right up there on the list of What Not to Do Around Dragons, even if that list was only meant to apply to Earth dragons. "Yeah, but why should I waste magic?"

Rake snorted. "Something up with it? You said something about coming from another world. Is Equestrian magic different? Weaker?"

"Different. Stronger. I could probably do a lot more with this, but—" Charlie reached a hand up to his hair and used it to push back the front of his hair. "When I made some meat up for Norbert and Whistlewing last night, this started. It was only soreness at first, but when I fed them earlier it grew to this."

"A horn is a good sign. Maybe you're turning into a dragon?" Walking over to Charlie, Rake completely ignored any perception of personal space the human might have clung to and grabbed his head to inspect him. "Just one though. Not many dragons have just one horn."

Charlie could have wrenched his head out of the grip of a giant vice easier than Rake's claws. It wasn't just that her whole body seemed to be muscle that was stronger than any muscle on any Earth creature (mundane or magic), but also that her talons were tipped with claws that could probably shred his flesh quicker than he could blink.

Waiting until she let go, Charlie shook his head to settle his hair again. "So what do you think it is?"

"You want to know what I think it is, or what I'll tell everyone who sees it?" Dusting off her talons, Rake bent down to pick up a piece of shale she hadn't noticed before. "Because it looks like a unicorn horn, but I'm totally telling everyone it's a dragon horn. If they think you're turning into a kind of pony, I'll be busting heads all day long."

"Unicorn? Pony? I heard the dragon lord mention them before, too. What's the deal?" When Rake stared at him as if he were stupid, Charlie rolled his eyes. "New to this world, remember?"

"Oh, right. Ponies live over that way." Gesturing with her wing, Rake couldn't believe she had to explain everything to Charlie. "Lots of them. Some dragons think we should go and push them around, but Torch says they out number us about a thousand to one, and about a third of them have magic.

"Now, dragons are fairly resistant to magic, but we have our limits. Also, we kinda suck at working together, and that's kinda the pony thing, you know?"

"Big nation that tolerates others, despite being strong opponents? That's kinda awesome. Back home, when two nations were the least bit different, they'd throw soldiers at each other until they decided it was a bad idea." Charlie left it ambiguous as to which side he meant as big nation. "So, what do you think dragons need magic for?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Rake made a noncommittal noise from deep in her throat that was somewhere between an industrial engine starting and a rockslide. "How would I know? What can magic do?"

Charlie interpreted the sound as the equivalent of a grunt. "Yeah, that's the problem. Magic can do a lot of stuff, but it's mostly stuff you guys don't really use. Wait, you eat stone, right?"

"Not just 'stone'. We eat gems, mostly. Why?"

"Show me where you keep yours." The moment Charlie said it, he knew he'd stepped over a line. Rake's expression had gone from vague disinterest to anger. She had height, strength, and near invulnerability to magic on her side, yet Charlie was used to standing up to dragons who could crush him if they thought hard about it. "Let me guess, dragons here hoard things?"

Narrowing her eyes, Rake glared at Charlie. "Your dragons don't?"

"No. Okay, so I get that you won't show me where your gems are. Just get me one and I'll show you something I can do." Careful to keep his voice angry, Charlie racked his mind to call up the specific spell he wanted.

Rake prided herself on being able to out-think all the other dragons she knew, but when Charlie had just outright asked her to show him her hoard, she'd lost her cool. There was exactly two reasons a dragoness would show a dragon her hoard, and she didn't like Charlie in either of those ways. "Wait here and try not to get eaten. And don't ask to see a dragon's hoard, okay?"

What startled Charlie was the blush on Rake's cheeks (it wasn't red, but blue). His mind raced with what asking to see her hoard meant to her—so much so that she was back before he'd even tried to remember the Doubling charm.

"Here. If you break it, I break you." It wasn't Rake's biggest gem—not by far—but it was still one out of her personal hoard. She didn't trust Charlie completely, but one tiny gem being lost wouldn't be something to enter a killing rage over. Besides, she didn't actually like malachite.

Drawing his wand, Charlie set the huge (to him) gemstone on the ground and pointed his wand at it. Preparing himself, his mind raced to bring back the incantation and the other patterns he needed to use. At last he let magic roll down his arm and to his wand, and cast Geminio.

Unlike pony magic, there was no flashy light and no singing—which suited Rake just fine. When nothing seemed to happen, she opened her mouth to berate Charlie when her gem flipped itself over. "What'd you do to—" She froze as the gem popped and produced a duplicate of itself. "No, magma, way!"

Reaching down, Rake picked both gems up in her talons—one in each hand. "Hold up. This one is…" She tossed the gem into her mouth and bit down on it. It had all the crunch of a regular gem, and all the taste, but there was something not quite there. "That was the copy, right?"

"Yes. These copies don't normally hold up as well long-term, but they should last awhile. It was just as tasty as normal, right?" Excitement made Charlie step closer and reach his hand out for the gemstone.

For a moment Rake hesitated. Her draconic instincts were strong, and they screamed at her that this lesser beast was trying to steal part of her hoard. She was, however, too excited to eat more of the gems to let her instincts get the better of her. "How much can you make at once?"

"Why, are you hungry for junk food?" Not failing to notice the slight hesitation, Charlie held the gem carefully in his hand. "Okay, so my magic seems to be working just fine. Let's see if breaking the spell works too."

"Hold on. If you're going to make lots of them, at least make one that I like. I'll be back quick." Rake was so excited to get more gems for Charlie to copy, she completely forgot about the one he still held.

Author's Notes:

Draco Malfoy: Do you think you could call Dobby? Even if you have a new form, Dobby should still be your house elf and should come if you call him, right?

"Father would probably notice that immediately. He'd sent me a letter earlier in the year asking if I was using that damn elf and to stop it. If it was still missing, he'd grow suspicious and probably have it lead him to me. As it is, he still might get that idea." Draco looked like she might get upset for a moment. "I don't know what to do..."

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Kirin Village

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It wasn't easy climbing to the top of the cliffs. We'd looked all around for an easier path, but it seemed the kirin didn't want to be easily accessible. The funny thing here was while Addera was having a harder time climbing the cliff, I'd found something I was very good at.

Ledges that weren't wide enough to take a full human foot seemed just fine for my hooves. I was bouncing up an almost vertical cliff.

Seemingly the worst of all of us, Twilight seemed to struggle balancing on level ground, so she remained riding with Addera. Ledge. Outcropping. Literally nothing. Ledge. Somehow my hooves seemed able to get enough grip even on what seemed like sheer cliff to let me bounce upward higher than I slipped in the same maneuver.

"You may as well go to the top, Harry Potter. I'll reach there when I can."

"I still think I could have shrunk you both enough that you could have ridden on me for a change," I said. Doing like she said, however, I bounced up the side of the cliff like a mountain goat.

Reaching the peak (of peril), I looked out over the hilltop. The cliff led down to a flat bowl that was surrounded by the cliffs on all side and covered with forest. There were trees everywhere, but there was a stream far in the distance, and not all that far from the stream I could see a clearing in the forest and— "There's a town!"

I turned and leaned over the edge of the cliff without any fear. "I can see a town!"

Addera still hadn't gotten much higher than she'd been when she'd told me to go ahead. The way she moved was so different. Each ridge she found she settled a coil on it carefully and stretched herself out over as many as she could, and only gave one up when she was too high for it anymore.

Twilight must have said something, because Addera turned her head to look at the unicorn in her backpack before nodding. They vanished.

POMF

I jumped. Given the cliff I was standing beside, that probably wasn't the best thing to do, but I landed on the edge of the cliff and my hooves seemed to continue to know what they were about.

Climbing out of Addera's backpack, Twilight used her own magic to shrug my Shrinking charm off and regain her normal size. "Thank you, Addera, and thank you Harry. Teleporting is perfectly safe so long as I can calculate the destination and know there's nocreature there. I didn't want to try from the ground, but seeing you meant I could get a better guess as to how far I needed to reach."

I was about to ask her more about her teleportation (that seemed vaguely like apparating), but Addera picked then to grab me up and hug me against herself tight. I squirmed in her grip and reached my forelegs around her neck to hug back. I don't know why, but it felt good to hug her.

As she hugged me, she made a soft hissing sound that despite my parseltongue, wasn't actually words. But it was soothing. "Harry Potter, you've dragged me from one world to another, and seem fit to drag me all over this one. Let's go find your answers."

It was as easy as that. Addera put me down after the hug and we found it much easier getting down from the cliff—mostly because Twilight could just teleport all three of us down.

Again the forest was quiet around us, but I guess having Addera around meant I'd be getting used to that. My nose seemed to have a mind of its own as it twitched at all the new scents around, not the least of which I could identify as kirin.

We hadn't even broken out of the treeline when we could hear them. Happy voices, excited voiced, even singing voices. The singing one in particular had my ears perked forward—she (the voice was definitely female) had a very full sound.

"Twilight, please wait here while Harry Potter makes sure it's safe. They all have horns, and I'd as soon not like to see what kind of magic they could use on a pony who can't shrug it off." Addera looked from Twilight to me and smiled. "Harry Potter, you are a kirin, if anyone can keep them from—"

Addera had been so focused on talking to me that she hadn't noticed Twilight roll her eyes and walk out into the clear. "Excuse me? Hello?" Twilight Sparkle asked.

"What's a pony doing here?" one kirin asked, but I don't think they were asking Twilight.

"Why don't we ask them?" A kirin walked forward with a big grin on her face. "Hi there, I'm Autumn Blaze, welcome to our village!" Her voice was very distinct, like she was giving a speech.

"Hi, Autumn Blaze, my name's Twilight Sparkle. My friends and I—" Twilight paused and turned to look at the bush Addera and me were in. "You can come out."

I walked out first, but when the crowd of kirin went silent, it wasn't me they were looking at. I decided it was up to me to remind them that staring wasn't nice. "Hi!"

"This," Twilight Sparkle said, "is Harry Potter, and this is his guardian, Addera."

"Oh—my—goodness!" Autumn bounced around Twilight and right up to me. "You're adorable!" Her horn flared with blue light around its chevrons and she picked me up with her magic. While she held me before her, Autumn poked at my nose with her hoof.

"Addera! Help!" I said.

"I do not believe she intends you harm, Harry Potter. You wished to learn from kirin, I believe that is happening." The worst bit was Addera sounded so damn smug about it. A moment earlier she'd been preparing to tactically greet these kirin in the safest way possible, but now she seemed calm about it.

Autumn gasped in surprise. "You want to learn from me?" She held me closer so that our noses almost touched. "You really want to learn to be a playwright from me?!"

"Err—" I tried to tell her I was more interested in learning to control my fire, but she apparently wanted to sing instead.

Judicious use of a Tracking charm had led Rolanda Hooch to the railway station just outside the Crystal Empire. Once she'd realized that draining her magic was almost literally impossible in Equestria, it removed all barriers to recasting even large spells in order to solve the problem at hand—or at hoof, as it were.

She looked south along the direction the railway ran and let out a little sigh. I might have wings, but I don't trust them enough to fly as far as I need to. The thought was sound. Rolanda had been chosen to chase down their truant primarily because she was best on a broom of any witch or wizard at Hogwarts.

The problem for Rolanda was her broom wasn't exactly made for a pony, though it was made for a larger creature than she currently was.

Flicking out her wing, she set her broom into the air beside her and examined its slightly modified mounting system. Normal brooms had ornate curved stirrups for human feet, but Rolanda had embraced certain aspects of modern society and had a pair of BMX posts instead. In her defense, they gripped her shoes better than the normal stirrups.

But, Rolanda Hooch wasn't wearing shoes. She looked at the post nearest her and lifted her forehoof onto it. The knurling gripped her hoof well, and she leaned onto it to ensure it would take more of her weight.

"A bit lower and…" She had the broom hover just a little lower and stepped her body over it. Her back hooves properly connected with the posts and gripped well, but now she tried to wrap her forelegs around the broom—with only minimal success. "This won't do."

After a few minutes to think on the problem, Rolanda spread her wings out and slowly lowered them, then pulled them in against the broom.

Rolanda gasped as instinct took hold, as it were, and her feathers gripped the broom just like her hands would have. She stared down and back at them as a smile turned into a grin and then almost split her snout from one side to the other. Holding on as tight as she could, she launched herself into the sky on her broom with a loud shout of joy.

It had been quite a while since Rolanda had soared through terrain she didn't know. All the United Kingdom had become her playground in her younger years, and even some places beyond, but this was utterly different. This world wasn't just unfamiliar, she hadn't even seen a map of it yet.

Unlike on the ground, in the air Rolanda had a vast advantage of scope. She knew Harry had been on the train and knew it headed toward Equestria, so she simply followed the tracks.

The trains of the Equestrian Railway might be fast, but Rolanda Hooch was faster. She leaned as far forward on her broom as she could and gripped it tight with her wings. The tracks were long and slightly curved, but it wasn't until she looked up that she realized where they were ultimately leading to.

Canterlot, even from below, was unbelievable. For a witch who had lived her whole life concealing her magic from the vast majority, seeing the underside of Canterlot suspended over so much empty air was a shock.

Spiraling up the side of the mountain, Rolanda received a second shock when she reached the top. She could feel and see magic in use everywhere. There were unicorns carrying and holding things with the magic from their horns, there was pegasi soaring through the clouds above her, and there were things glowing here, there, and everywhere. It was as if Diagon Alley had come to life and spread out over a huge set of dinner plates.

Rolanda swooped down to the railway station and landed at the end of the platform.

"Excusein' me, miss, but you're going to need a ticket if you want to catch the train." Stamped Mark was the conductor for the southern rail line. He was waiting for his train to come out of the yards when he saw the strange pegasus land her contraption on the platform.

"You'll have to excuse my haste, good sir, but I wonder if you've seen this boy?" Reaching to a pocket of her broom's saddlebag, Rolanda pulled out the most recent photo of Harry—one that had been taken since his change. It was animated, showing him moving and jostling around with Ron beside him.

"Nope. Haven't seen him, and I'd know if I had." Stamped had to reach out and put his hoof on Rolanda's shoulder to stop her zooming off immediately. "But, ol' Twobit said he spied a colt lookin' just like that yesterday. Had a snake pony with him and a unicorn. He was drivin' a special run down south."

The reaction had surprised Rolanda. She'd been about to growl at the pony for touching her, but she quickly realized it had been a necessity. "You don't happen to have a map showing where that is?"

"I can go you one better. Follow me." The raw joy of helping ponies shone through Stamped's demeanor in just about every way. He almost pranced to the ticket booth and reached in to grab a rail-map of Equestria. "This here is where they got off. Spur line on the edge of nothing, if you ask me."

Rolanda left her broom floating where she'd landed and rushed after Stamped. "Could I take that map?"

"Sure! It's only—" His years as a conductor had trained Stamped Mark to know when the pony he was talking to didn't have any bits for their trip. He'd given a lot of ponies a lot of free rides, and as far as he knew the rail service hadn't had a problem with it. There was one thing he could get away with, however. "Well, how about I cover that for you today, but next time you're in Canterlot we have lunch?"

The shift from worry to surprise hit Rolanda hard. She looked at the stallion and tried to put in context why having a little lunch date would be bad. Of course, that required her to acknowledge that she would be back to Canterlot in the future.

Lunch was a small price to pay. "I believe I'll take you up on that. My name's Rolanda Hooch."

Stamped Mark turned the name over and around in his head. It wasn't an Equestrian name. "Well, Miss Rolanda Hooch, my name's Stamped Mark. If you're ever back in Canterlot, just ask around here to see when I'll be coming back next."

Rolanda took the offered map with a smile for Stamped. "Thank you."

Reaching up to an imaginary hat he wasn't wearing, Stamped Mark nodded his head. "Good luck finding your friends, Rolanda."

Looking at the map and the mark on it, Rolanda made a mental note of what rail lines she'd need to find leaving Canterlot before she jumped back on her broom and zoomed off.

The day was getting long into the afternoon. Rolanda made the best time she could on her broom, but with little warning the sun just dropped from the sky and over the horizon. Without being able to see the tracks anymore, Rolanda was at a disadvantage.

The answer was a simple one—Rolanda cast the Wand Lighting charm and swung lower on her broom. But far from her wand glowing, Rolanda's wings began to glow. So shocked at the perversion of the spell was she that she almost upended herself.

Keeping low, Rolanda followed the tracks all the way to the end of the line. The map told her this was the spot the train had stopped at.

"Just a day behind them, I think. Maybe less. Running out into the wilderness blind isn't something I'd relish. I might as well get comfortable here."

Hermione Granger wasn't sure what to expect back on Earth. When she'd been marched through the portal with all the other students, she certainly hadn't expected the tent city to be where Hogwarts had been before.

The company of Ron and his brothers was somewhat comforting, but at the same time disheartening. They were practically mourning the loss of their sister, though she was still there with them.

"Excuse me." Hermione marched up to one of the Ministry wizards and glared at them, then repeated herself.

Jenny Sparks had had enough. She wasn't an old witch—just eight years out of Hogwarts herself—but the way the students literally milled around like lost livestock was getting on her nerves. "What?!"

"So we can just go home now?" Between her crystalline nature and her clothes, Hermione found the chill of the highlands wasn't biting into her at all. Her robes concealed most of the equine parts of her, though her head was a bit of a give away.

They're just children, Jenny thought. Chanted, really, in the back of her head. "Yes, yes. Find your parents. There's only a handful we haven't been able to arrange travel for—mostly muggles."

Hermione was not prepared to take that level of stupidity, so she prepared to enlighten Jenny. "In case you haven't bothered to find out yet, you should know that the three distinct levels of equinity among us correlates directly to how much wizarding blood we have. Those who were pure-blood are completely pony, those who were half-blood are mostly pony, and those of us who could almost pass for a pony-headed human—"

It was a blow to Jenny in her most valued part—her brain. She hadn't gotten any such information because no one had been giving it out. "Right. Sorry, it's been a tough few days. If you're muggle-born, your parents won't be here. That means we'll need to assign someone to you to take care of any muggles that see you. Though, if I just got you a hooded robe, I think you'd pass for human much easier."

"So you're going to take me to see my parents?" Despite her attempts to remain as aloof as she could, some worry had crept into Hermione's voice now she wasn't lecturing.

That edge of worry hit Jenny Sparks right in her empathy. "I'm probably going to regret this, but let me go ask."

Hermione waited, and waited, and waited. She was getting close to her limit of patience when she saw Jenny walking toward her. "Well?"

"My boss wants me out of his hair almost as much as I want to be away from this place. Come on, let's get going before either of us change our minds." Jenny gestured at Hermione's luggage with her wand.

About to comment on how best to carry her own luggage, Hermione was shocked when Jenny just cast a simple Shrinking charm on her things. Of all the spells she'd thought of to carry all her things, Hermione hadn't thought of such a thing.

Jenny only stopped channeling magic when the luggage was small enough to fit in a pocket. She passed the two cases to Hermione. "Come on. We'll head to Diagon Alley first to get you something to cover your head and arms. Where's your folks live?"

"Outer-east suburbs of London." Hermione tucked her bags into one of her robes' inner pockets. "How will we get there? Diagon Alley, I mean."

"Well, let me see. Your parents were muggles and you're in third year?"

"Second."

"So you probably don't know about apparating." As soon as she mentioned it, Jenny noticed Hermione's face screwed up as if she were about to be ill. "Or maybe you have. Take my hand and don't let go no matter what."

The idea of going through an apparition again did not appeal to Hermione, but she reluctantly reached out to Jenny. "Hermione."

"Jenny. Jenny Sparks." Given the look Hermione had made when Jenny mentioned apparition, she was surprised at how readily the girl held out her hand. "Like I said, hold on, Hermione."

"It doesn't feel right," Ginevra Molly Weasley said.

'What doesn't feel right?'

Sombra's voice calmed some of the itch Ginevra felt, but not all of it. "Them." She pointed one slender arm out at the two wizards who'd been caught by surprise when she'd "found" them. "They are Deatheaters. I should be punishing them, not letting them follow me around like lost puppies."

'You are learning fast, my student. We have gained some power since starting this crusade—it is about time we started using that. Pick one, remake them into something more suitable.'

Ginevra wasn't exactly sure what was meant. "Suitable?"

"Err, allow me to make a suggestion, your wise and powerfulnesses." Bowing and scraping was harder to do as a pony, but that didn't stop Peter Pettigrew from managing it anyway—he'd had a lot of practice. When neither the scary voice of Sombra nor Ginevra told him to keep quiet, he continued, "You need a way to find the rest of the Deatheaters. Something that can move fast, freeze them in their tracks with fear—something that doesn't think about all those annoying things like disobeying. Something that's a real punishment."

"Dragon." The word left Ginevra's lips before she had really processed it. The epitome of fearful, deadly, fast… Looking at one of the Deatheaters. She reached her hand out and gestured to him. Power flowed and was infused with knowledge by her teacher. Staring into the man's eyes, Ginevra felt sure this was the right thing to do.

Igor Karkaroff would have ignored the pull of his dark mark if not for the sense of Voldemort being dead. He had felt his mark not just changed and pulled toward the new master, but he had felt a reverse pull. Traitorous and craven he might be, but stupid he wasn't—if this new master could have found him, he felt it better to go to them.

Now, Igor looked up at the young woman pointing at him and regretted his choice. The power that built behind the hand gesturing at him was greater than any he'd felt his previous lord wield. "W-W-What are—"

Just as quickly as his thick and adopted Russian accent started to form the words, they died as his face began to change. The power that had been burning in the woman was now pouring into him, and Igor entered a full panic.

What had seemed like an inconvenience when performed by another witch or wizard was impossible for Igor to fight—and he tried. He had several minor artifacts on his person that should have made Transfiguration magic impossible to use on him, yet he could feel the magic and changes flow down his body like a wave.

First, Igor's face grew nearly twice as big in every dimension, but thrice so forward. He was staring at the huge snout between his eyes while his neck lengthened and his body started to swell.

Ginevra fed more and more magic into Igor until the spell felt like it had enough. She smiled as she watched a half-formed dragon twist and writhe, but something was odd. "He's not turning into a dragon-dragon."

'No. Not the weak little dragons that exist here. You have made him into something magnificent: an Equestrian dragon.' King Sombra hadn't even expected that, but the will of magic, he knew, would often choose its own fates. He was impressed his student managed to make the spell work at all. Impressed and pleased.

When Igor's arms disjointed and lifted high on his back, he felt them change and twist into mighty draconic wings. A new pair of forelegs formed and he dropped down on them firmly. The woman who had caused it to happen was now half his size, but Igor started to feel strange thoughts worm into his head. Turning his bulk, Igor Karkaroff bent one foreleg and bowed his head down before Ginevra.

"He's not an unthinking beast, but I think I prefer this. You remember what you did to gain your mark?" Ginevra stepped closer so that Igor's breath was lashing her dark cloak with cinders.

"I—I did bad things."

Reaching out her hand, Ginevra pressed it to the side of Igor's big, red muzzle. It sizzled on his scales and she watched a white handprint burn into them. She felt exactly what he'd done and how he'd lied about feeling sorry for it all at a trial. "You will serve me like this. The day I believe you actually deserve to be a human again, I'll make you one."

Igor lashed his tail in anticipation. Not a single one of the wizards who'd put him on trial had been worthy of his time, but this woman not only had power but used it (in his mind) justly. He felt powerful, dangerous, deadly, and hungry, but most of all he felt her hand on his cheek—even when she removed it—and the promise of what she'd do if he failed her.

"I'm done with these dregs. Take me to where all the Deatheaters are." Ginevra glided up the side of Igor's shoulder and sat astride his neck. "Take me to Azkaban."

Molly Weasley was in shock. She looked between Fred and George several times, then to her Ronald. They all looked so serious. "In this book?" She tightened her fingers around the leather-bound book in her hands. "If you boys are having a lark—"

"If that book's what I think it is, dear, they're telling the truth. It's not a muggle artifact, but I can feel the darkness residing in the spells that made that book." Arthur Weasley turned his eyes to his boys reluctantly, fearing the magic of the book a little. "Are you sure it's our Ginny in there?"

"Yeah, Dad. She knows things only Ginny knows." George pointed at Ron. "Knew all 'bout Ron and Spiders."

"And George and toads," Fred said.

Momentarily sidetracked, Molly was also coming to grips with the three little horses being her boys. "And where's Percy?"

"He's staying back at Hogwarts." Ron looked up at his mother and ached to have her hug him or acknowledge him as her son. "He wanted to make up for—"

"Ron!" Fred pulled his leg back from where he'd lightly kicked his brother to shut his mouth.

"Hogwarts've got a lot of stuff to deal with, Mum," George said. "They said anyone who's graduating could stay, since they were now considered wizards and witches. Percy—He looks different to the rest of us. Got a 'orn and proper fuzzy coat 'n everything."

Molly's eyes had strayed past the book in her hands to Ron's face. She searched his eyes for her son, and found him. Crouching down, she reached out her arms first to Ron, then opened them wider for George and Fred. Her boys rushed in for the hug she'd only just realized they needed. "Well a right bloody mess this is, and you say there's no way back from this?"

Not daring to lift his head from the wet patch his eyes were making against his mother's robes, Ron shook his head.

"Well, it'll be odd having so many horses around the house. There'll be no horse-apples inside, ya ken?" Molly felt the tension drain out of her. "And now our Ginny has hit the books too hard."

Seeing his chance to take a little of the emotional burden, Arthur crouched down and took Ginny's diary from his wife. Opening it with more than a little trepidation, he saw the blank pages inside fill with words.

Da! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for this to happen! I can explain everything!

The slightest trickle of magic that made the words appear felt at odds with the spells protecting the book. Patting at several pockets of his robes, Arthur finally dug out something his workmates would have struggled to ignore if they saw him using it.

It's really you in there, Ginny my girl?

Yes, Da!

Welcome home.

No two words could have made Ginny sob inside the book quite so much as those. She wanted to hug her brothers and parents so much, but all she could do was write "I love you" over every available piece of paper in her book. When she ran out of room, she had to erase some pages so she could write it again.

"There's something I need to tell you all that's not common knowledge yet." Arthur wrote the words into the diary as he spoke them, though he kept his voice down. "Magic is fading."

Molly turned and looked at her husband with a little confusion. "What're you mean?"

"I mean that whatever ripped Hogwarts out of this world did something to the magic here. Some of them in the Ministry think it was something in Hogwarts that did it, others seem to think Hogwarts was the core of this world's magic." Arthur looked around to see who was watching or trying to listen. "Everyone can feel it. Everything is just a little harder to cast, but no one wants to admit it. The Ministry has been doing tests, and they give magic about another year at most."

"Let's get home before we talk about this where someone can hear it." Molly knew too well her husband would try to keep things down, but wizards were a clever bunch when it came to gossip. "Don't you worry, Ginny-dear, we'll get you home safe and sound."

Looking around, Arthur reached into her jacket and pulled out a large, manila envelope. It looked no different to all the ones normally used at his work, but this one was a little more special. "Okay, all of you grab hold of this. I guess you three can just bite down on it."

Normally Molly would berate her husband for using such things, but right now she just wanted her family home. Reaching out a hand, she grabbed onto the portkey. "Where's this take us?"

"I had a few of them made for this kind of situation. There's nothing worse than getting out early on a Friday afternoon and having to drive home." Arthur waited until everyone had hold of the envelope before he flipped the end of it open.

"What now?" Lucian Bole asked.

"What do you mean? I thought you were leading this?" Helena Fowley asked. "Find Draco, help him—or her, whatever you want to be called—and get back to Hogwarts."

Lucian shook his big head and turned his attention back to Draco. "Naw. You added the last bit. So, Draco, what're we doing?"

Draco Lucius Malfoy had learned a lot in the past two years at Hogwarts, but that had been a minuscule amount compared to what she'd learned in the last few weeks from Lucian, Gemma, and life in general.

"You've both helped me…" Draco took a deep breath. "My father will probably disown me. I was his heir—was. The only way I can see that I will be able to retain that title is if I talk to Mother first. We need to get to Malfoy Manor and find her without Father finding us."

"There, see?" Lucian turned and smiled at Helena as if everything had been resolved. "Simple when you put it like that. Okay, so how would you get to Malfoy Manor without lettin' anyone know we're coming?"

"We can't. That's the problem. Father has wards to stop visitors sneaking in. Even when—when the Ministry comes, he knows." Draco bit her lower lip and let out a little whine of helplessness. "A-And call me her while I'm like this. Safer that way. No one will ask why you're talking about a girl student like that."

"Visitors." After Helena said the word both Draco and Lucian looked at her strange. Groaning and rolling her eyes, Helena pointed hooves at her two accomplices. "You're right. He keeps track of all visitors. What about enchanted horses making deliveries?"

"Enchanted 'orses? That might work. They wouldn't even suspect us when we talk," Lucian said.

Draco lifted her hoof up to rub her chin as she thought it over. "It might work. We can't look like this, though. Enchanted horses wouldn't have—clothes. They wouldn't be colorful, either."

"That's where you are both useless. Draco, if you'd gone through your first two years as a girl, you'd know all the little charms and jinxes that we need right now." Pulling her wand out of her robes with one wing, Helena pointed it at Draco and chanted a quick Hair-thickening charm. What should have left the heir to house Malfoy a shaggy little unrecognizable pony instead barely made her grow three inches of coat all over.

"Was it meant to do that?" Lucian asked. "That was the 'air growin' jinx, right?"

"Charm. We learned it as a charm." As she examined Draco, Helena realized that although it lengthened her coat, it didn't affect Draco's mane or tail. "That should have left you an indistinguishable mess of hair. It's like magic is weaker or something."

Nodding along, Lucian examined Draco and had an overwhelming urge to brush her a lot. "Why'd you think I 'ad so much trouble apparating? I had to fight for every bit of magic to pull us out without turning us inside out or somethin'."

Draco shuddered at the idea. There wasn't a lot of wizards who could fix such a problem, and all of them worked for the Ministry. It was odd to have more weight just from hair. "This will help, thanks. Now we have to find something that we'll be delivering. A cart would help, and we could hide our robes in it." She wasn't looking forward to going without clothes. Other students might have just gone with it, but for Draco there was a certain class to being well-dressed.

"Yeah. I could pull a cart while you two walk alongside as if we take turns. Might need to get somethin' to cover your wings, though. 'Orse blankets." Looking around the room, Lucian saw the linen closet and walked over to it. Opening up the cupboard, he used his mouth to pull a pair of blankets out. "These'll do. Fold 'em over a few times and sling 'em over your backs. Can hide yer wands too."

"What about your wand?" Helena asked.

The question made Lucian's teeth grind a little. "One o' you can hold it for me."

Helena took a deep breath. It was somewhat of a privilege to hold another wizard's wand for them. "I'll do it. If anything happens and Draco is discovered she might not be able to get you your wand. I'll make sure of it."

"Okay," Draco said, "let's get out of here before we have to worry about questions or anything. They might have an old cart we can… borrow."

"Draco? How far do you think we are from your home?" Helena asked.

Blushing, though the blush was thankfully hidden by her extended coat, Draco tried to forge ahead. "Father always uses portkeys…"

Reaching a wing out and over Draco's back, Helena gave her a reassuring smile. "If we took a cart from here, it would take a few days to reach Malfoy Manner. We need to use Floo to get close, then see what we can do from there. What places are nearby your home?"

"Right. There's the groundskeeper's cottage, several other muggle houses on the estate, nearby town of Ault Hucknall, I think there's a few—"

"Are any of them likely to be on the Floo network?" Helena asked, trying to push Draco to the important information.

A small flashback to when Draco was a young boy and got in trouble for something she couldn't now remember, roared to life in Draco's head. She smiled when she remembered the witch in the village hiding him for a few hours. "Yeah, I know a place."

Author's Notes:

Applejack: What do you think when you see these hornless creatures (human) performing magic like a unicorn?

"Well now I ain't had much experience with magic, ya understand, but I've seen plenty of critters doing magic. Changelings, Discord, and what those ponies at the Ponyville spa can do to a knotted muscle? That's magic too."

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Lesson Zero

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Kirin were strange, but I think they'd make good wizards and witches. No less than three impromptu songs had rounded out our day, with offers from various kirin to use their couches/homes for the night. Despite her being the strangest of a strange bunch, Twilight and Addera had both agreed that Rain Shine, the leader of the kirin, would be the best choice.

And that's how I wound up sitting across from the biggest kirin I'd ever seen. She looked at me with evident curiosity, though she was a lot quieter than some kirin I could mention. "You're here to learn how to control your anger?"

I knew I was smiling. Hearing that—hearing the head-honcho kirin ask that—was the fulfillment of this whole quest. "Yes please."

Rain Shine used her magic to pick up her cup and bring it to her lips. A long, slow sip of her tea made her sigh as if it were the best drink ever. "The secret is to not get mad. Kirin have been surviving generations using meditation to push all the things that would make us angry deep inside."

Well, that seemed easy. "Can you teach me that?"

"You're in luck. Teaching kirin this meditation is what I'm best at. It works best if you're a little upset already. Is there something you can think about that might make you upset?"

The answer to that was easy. "Yeah. How angry do you want me?"

"Not enough to make you turn into a nirik."

So definitely not the Dursleys. Okay, what about Snape? No, he was hardly annoying at all anymore. Slytherin? Ah, there we go. I thought about Draco and how annoying he—or she—was. Feeling the annoyance build, I backed off from my thoughts and opened my eyes.

Rain's eyes and horn were glowing softly. She nodded to me. "There. That's good. Now, I want you to close your eyes and focus on that thing again."

About to start, I paused as a familiar sound met my ears—which caused them and my head to turn toward the open window. "That's a broom. A broom someone's really pushing hard. Who'd be riding a broom here?"

The noise was kinda like a thrumming sound, but with an odd rattle to it. I jumped down from my seat and ran to the door. A quick Locomotion charm and I was outside and looking at a gray-maned pegasus with bright blue coat who was climbing off an old-style broom that looked like it had some changes made. "Madam Hooch?"

She spun around and locked eyes with me. "Harry. James. Potter. What on Earth do you think you're playing at?" Each step she took toward me seemed to shake the ground like an earthquake. "Do you have any idea the turmoil Hogwarts is in right now? What possessed you to do this?"

Still with the anger bubbling within me from my aborted meditation class, I stomped a hoof on the ground in protest. "I don't want to go back to the Dursleys! They're horrible, they are mean to me, and they wouldn't accept me when I was human!" I could feel my nirik side starting to nibble at the edges of my mind. "And—I wouldn't last five minutes with them before I set their house on fire."

"You want to know the truth? You're making decisions as an adult, so I should treat you as one. Neither Minerva nor myself were enthusiastic about you staying there either. There weren't a lot of options, however, and Albus claimed it was the safest place for you." Hooch tucked her broom up under her wing and started walking to the edge of the village—away from me.

Getting the distinct feeling I should follow, I trotted after her. Her tone held none of the accusation and I was more curious to know what she wanted to tell me than I was furious. "But I could have stayed at the school. I could have been fostered to another wizarding family. What was so special about the Dursleys?"

"Because your mother asked it."

I froze. The revelation that Hooch knew my parents was big. I looked up at her. "Why?"

"No one knows, Harry. Who came with you?"

"Addera and Twilight. Addera is—" I bit back on my words. What was she to me? She felt like home. Like a real home. When she hugged me I thought of— "Addera's taking care of me."

She let out a sigh, and it looked like she became a little smaller. "Well that answers most of my questions. Why are you here, Harry?"

"I came here to learn how to stop getting angry and turning into a nirik. I want it to stop so I can just be normal." I almost shouted the last bit. Being normal was what everyone wanted. Catching on fire randomly was good for a party trick, but it was starting to get annoying.

"And you thought they'd have all the answers?"

"They have to. Look, they haven't burned everything down lately." I was proud of figuring that out. If Hogwarts weren't made almost entirely of stone, I was sure I would have burned that down by now—not counting the owlery.

Madam Hooch let out a sigh. "Tell me, Harry, have you learned how they suppress their more flammable urges?"

Now I was a little confused and unsure. What was she getting at? "They meditate. Rain Shine said they push all the things that would make them angry down inside." Now that I said it myself, I realized that something about it sounded wrong.

"By the look of your ears wilting, Harry, I'd guess you worked out that is not a good fix?"

"It doesn't solve the problem, does it?"

Hooch shook her head. "No it doesn't, Harry Potter. All that does is add weight to the problem and put it off for another day. So, who do you think has all the answers?"

This was like class. Well, it was like the better classes—the ones where you don't get told the answer, but you have to learn it on your own. "Dumbledore?" The short and sharp laugh from Hooch told me that was wrong. "Princess Celestia?"

"I'd wager she knows more than most, but the point I was getting at was that no one knows them all. It's rhetorical."

I knew that word. We'd learned it in English at my muggle school. "I just want an answer to this one. How do I stop setting places on fire?"

"A wise student of mine, one of the best fliers—on a broom—I've ever seen, worked out that if he lets the pressure off from time to time, the fire doesn't burn him up inside."

It didn't take a genius or a wizard to work out she was talking about me. "But that doesn't work perfectly. I still get angry at things."

"That seems like quite the problem. You might never solve it, but I think you have a good chance. The one thing I can tell you is, shoving all your anger into a ball inside you is not a healthy way to deal with it."

Sometimes I wished that reality wasn't quite so real. This was Equestria! The ponies here were meant to be happy all the time and not be stuck with problems they can't solve. It took me some time to figure my way through the storm of thoughts in my head. I wanted to find Ron and Hermione and see if they needed help. I wanted to go back to Hogwarts and help them do—do whatever they need done. "I need to tell them that there's a better way."

"And then?"

"Then I need to go back to Hogwarts and see if I can help with anything."

"You're a good boy, Harry Potter, but sometimes you need to realize that you don't have to be everywhere and doing everything. I'll come with you, but you need to go back to the Dursle—"

Anger flared and I felt my nirik self shoving forward. I barely had enough time to throw my glasses off before I flared into a small inferno. "I am not going back—"

"Get yourself under control, Harry. I'll talk to Addera in the meantime." It shocked me to see Madam Hooch just stand up and walk away.

But the surprise of her leaving wasn't enough to shake me out of my rage. I stomped off to the edge of the village and started cursing up a litany of all the things that were annoying me.

"Hi! What's up? Get a bit annoyed?"

I jerked my head around and my perfect vision narrowed down to see Autumn Blaze. She was the mare who did so much singing. Could I get angry at her just for that? You bet.

She didn't bother backing away from me as I stalked closer to her. "What, you're going to try burning me? I'm a kirin too. Come on, I'll show you my favorite burning spot."

A burning spot? My anger flickered for a moment as curiosity tried to take control. Instead, both compromised with keeping me curiously angry. I followed her into the forest and it wasn't long before I saw what she meant by burning spot. The ground was bare and darkened in patches and the plants seemed to be well back from the middle of the clearing.

"There you go. Let it all out."

That's when I realized what I'd taken for a few blackened stumps were actually made to look like kirin. Everything clicked and I realized I wasn't the only one who'd come up with the Get Angry—Let It Out method of taming my nirik side.

Fixing my eyes on the first log in a row, I let it have a blast of fire.

"Yeah! Give it another one!"

I laughed and sent another blast of nirik fire at the log, only for my excitement to drain away the anger that'd been fueling me. What shocked me, as my vision grew blurry again, was that the fire wasn't consuming the log.

"Here, you dropped these." My glasses landed on my face, carried there by Autumn's magic. "Life has its ups and downs, and it should have both. Not that my village realize that."

"Why aren't the logs burning?" I walked over to the one I'd blasted just in time for the flames to snuff out completely. I prodded one with a hoof but it didn't yield its secrets.

"These are from the same wood I built my house from. I don't know why, but it just doesn't burn like normal wood. Gives you a bit of time if you wake up hangry, you know?" She walked up beside me and poked at the wood with her own hoof. "I was trying to come and talk to you, but Rain Shine said you ran off. She didn't try to teach you the Bottle It All Up method, did she?"

"Tried to, but then a teacher set me straight. Then I—I got angry because Rain Shine had made me get a little angry to teach her thing, and now—now I have to go and apologize to her." It was like my mouth had no brakes. Whatever I thought was pouring free. "Thanks for showing me this spot!"

"No problems. You going to give another few—And he's running off…"

Autumn's words faded behind me as my hooves pounded on the path. I needed to find Madam Hooch and explain why I got so angry so easily.

The forest path gave way to the town itself, and that's when I heard a voice say, "There he is. Harry Potter, where did you go?"

I bounced on all four legs up to Addera and didn't fight her when she picked me up. I spotted Hooch standing behind and to the side of Addera. "I'm sorry I got angry, Madam Hooch. Rain Shine asked me to think of something that normally got me angry, so when I spoke to you I was on edge already."

"I realized that a few moments after I left you, Harry." Hooch sounded the closest to embarrassed I'd ever heard her. Normally she was so practical and stoic.

"I ran into Autumn Blaze. She—she uses the same method I do for keeping control of her anger. She showed me a spot in the forest where she lets herself get angry." Now I did squirm in Addera's arms. It still surprised me sometimes how comfortable it felt to get hugged by her, but the coziness of it always seemed to be more than enough to keep embarrassment away. When she put me down, I pointed toward the path I'd run out from. "It's just down there."

"Miss Hooch believes we should return to Hogwarts, Harry Potter." Addera, I realized, had discretely coiled her tail around behind me. Did she think I'd run? She was smarter than I gave her credit for sometimes. "But we need to go further than that. You need to collect your things from the Dursley residence and we need to find a more appropriate home."

It wasn't at all what I expected her to say, but it was still a huge improvement on actually living with the Dursleys. What surprised me was Hooch wasn't objecting. I looked up at her curiously.

"In my personal estimation, Addera is a finer guardian by far than your foster parents. It is not completely up to me, however I would suggest that with You-Know-Who out of the picture, there'll be a lot less attention paid to a young Hogwarts student. If you return with me, I certainly won't make comment as to where you end up living." Hooch had a half smile that surprised me almost as much as her deviousness. "But you need to collect your things, Harry."

"Then we can come back?" I asked.

"If it seems like the best place to settle down. I am not sure about you, Harry Potter, but I have had enough excitement for the next hundred years or so." Addera's hoof reached down to my mane and ruffled it. Weeks ago I would have jumped aside or coughed to distract her while I backed away, but now I found myself leaning into her side.

She was comfortable and there when I wanted something comfortable. "Perhaps we could find somewhere warmer than the Crystal Empire, though. I don't mind some snow, but that seemed a little too constant for my taste."

"We have options, Harry Potter. Let's return to Hogwarts and find out what this will entail." Not seeing Addera's eyes didn't even feel strange anymore. How often did you normally get emotional feedback from looking at someone's eyes? I guess there was so much of her to watch that there were plenty of other sources.

"Okay, I'll go back. We need to tell Twilight what we're doing. She helped us get here, after all."

We ended up talking to Rain Shine and then Autumn Blaze before finally finding Twilight and telling her what we were doing. Equestria was a strange world, but I found everything moved a lot easier here—we came and met the kirin, made friends with them, then when we needed to leave there was no fuss or trouble. It was like it didn't matter if we were wizards at all.

The mark on his arm was pulling him—Bartemius Crouch Junior was sure of it. His time wrestling with the Imperius curse in his head made him perfectly aware of the fact he was being manipulated, even if Winky tried to direct him away from it.

"Not that way. That way is—" Winky bit back her words. They both knew what lay in the direction Barty was traveling. "I'm not letting you go to Azkaban."

The tone of Winky's voice stung Barty. He knew full well that he didn't want to travel this direction, but every time he changed direction it wound up pulling him back toward that horrid target. "I know, but nothing seems to help. Besides, the Horse-King wants us there."

"Horse-King? What's so great about this Horse-King? Why do you follow his trail?"

"Power. Redemption. Curiosity. All better excuses than because his magic is forcing me to. You don't have to come with me, Winky."

"Master—Barty doesn't have a wand." She was still struggling with the idea of calling her master by his first name, but it had been a personal request. "Barty needs Winky because Winky can do this."

All Barty's life he'd had servants or magic to do his bidding. If he was cold, he'd use one or the other to warm himself. If he was hungry, he'd likewise use the tools at his disposal to solve that problem. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, even Winky's resources were stretched to their limit, but when she snapped her fingers and a basket of apples appeared in her free hand, Barty reached out a shaking hand for one. "Thank you," he managed to say before attacking the apple.

Several things had combined to make running for her life the most joyful time of Winky's life, and it had all started with her master asking for her help to leave. To a house-elf, being needed in such a way was the culmination of a life of good service. This was her time to enjoy and serve her master to the best of her abilities. That he thanked her caused every bone in her body to warm in happiness. Carefully selecting the wormiest-looking apple herself, Winky joined Barty in their impromptu meal.

"What if he isn't a good leader?" Winky didn't want to challenge her master on something important, but she also didn't want him doing something that would get him hurt. "What if—"

"I'm not sure if I have a choice, Winky. I talked my way into Voldemort's good graces and learned a lot, I think I can do so again. Besides, I have you at my side. Now, where do you think we could grab a wand on the way?"

"Wizards and witches are possessive of their wands and will quickly notice theirs missing. A wand shop owner is possessive too, but they are less likely to notice one missing." Winky looked up at Barty and smiled at his surprised expression. "So we take some from a wand shop."

"Some?"

"Barty wants his choice, correct?"

She got him, Barty realized. Of all his family and friends and even the other Deatheaters, it took a house-elf to get him. "A choice would be good, but I don't want you risking anything."

"Winky is too clever for them. You'll see."

Ginevra Molly Weasley felt on top of the world. She soared through the sky riding a dragon, and for the first time in her life—in public at least—she didn't care who saw her doing magic.

This was it, she thought, this is someone dealing with all the evil and bad witches and wizards in the world. Her smile pulled even wider at the thought that it wasn't just someone, it was her. "I can feel some over there. Take me to them."

Everyone who bore King Sombra's mark now felt like they were on a long leash. Ginevra tugged on them to remind them all she was coming.

Igor's ears didn't hear the command over the rushing wind, but he felt the will of Ginevra. She aimed him like a spear and he turned and dove toward a manor house on a tall hill. For the first time in many years, Igor Karkaroff felt pride.

The first Ginevra knew of Igor's plan was him turning his body so he was plunging feet first toward the manor. His body crashed through the ceiling and wall of one side of the manor house.

Vaulting down from Igor's back, Ginevra felt and heard a dread-spell being cast.

"A-vah-dah…"

Panic struck Igor. Every wizard and witch in the world knew the incantation that was coming, but thanks to his large size and the house now impeding his movement, he was the biggest target present. A green glow started to burn from a nearby doorway.

"… ke-dah-vra!" Rentmany Goyle stepped a little further into the room to ensure his spell would be well placed. He was not just an experienced wizard—but a master of the dark arts and a Deatheater. He'd learned the Killing curse at a young age, had mastered it, then had learned even more about the forbidden spell at Voldemort's side.

All Rentmany's knowledge of the Killing curse told him that the beast that'd landed in his house would be dying very shortly. A green bolt of light shot from the end of his wand and traveled toward the monster, but a dark figure placed itself betwixt wand and target.

The spell hit Ginevra in the chest. She didn't know why she'd moved, but instinct had told her it was right to protect those under your care.

When the black-dressed woman didn't immediately crumple to the ground, Rentmany froze in shock. "N-No. It can't be! No one can live through having their soul ripped out!"

'A glorious demonstration, Ginevra. Protecting your pets is an important skill for a student to learn.' Sombra, a little giddy at the power his student was showing off, rushed toward Rentmany. 'Ah, here we have one of that whelp's own pets. Your master, unlike Ginevra Molly Weasley, will not protect you. What will you do?'

"Weasley? You're from the—" Rentmany halted as his arm began to burn with pain. Even through his robes he could see dark magic burning where his dark mark had been. He could feel something otherworldly, could hear its voice, but he couldn't see it. "Y-You're the horse."

King Sombra examined the aura of the creature before him, then delved deeper through the mark the man bore. 'Unicorn. King. Lord. I would accept any of these, but I won't accept horse!' He grabbed at Rentmany's soul and stroked it like a cat would a birdcage. 'Do we have an understanding?'

"What are you doing to him?" Ginevra, having ensured Igor was safe, made her way over to Rentmany and King Sombra. "Is his body suitable?"

'Ginevra, again you surprise me. I hadn't considered this creature's body. It may be old, but it will do for now. Liar, come here.'

The call of his master's master was as irresistible to Peter Pettigrew as a flame was to a moth. He jumped out from behind Igor's bulk and rushed over. "Your Glory, King Sombra, how may this pathetic rat serve you?"

Reaching out to the gem around Peter's neck, Sombra turned his attention back to Rentmany Goyle. 'See? That is how to grovel. If you'd been a little better at it… What am I saying, you're still just scum.'

The feel of dark magic pooling around him made Rentmany start to panic. His first instinct was to fight, but he hadn't lived as long as he had by merely running off instincts. Apparating was an art form with which he was well acquainted, and he began to employ it—only for the spell to fall apart the moment he tried to cast it.

"What are you—" Words failed Rentmany not because he wanted to stop talking, but rather because he couldn't talk. Something dark slithered into his head like a snake and, to his shock, shoved his own mind aside as it took up residence. "These creatures are not as grand as my own form, but it will take some time in Equestria to regain enough energy to become my true self again."

The change in voice as well as the way the man stood made it clear to Ginevra that King Sombra was now in control. The man was a Deatheater and he had greeted them with his wand out—no quarter would be given. Ginevra was determined to only feel mercy toward those who sought it.

Tugging on the leashes to all the Deatheaters, Ginevra felt a weak pull toward King Sombra. "My King, I can still feel him. Are you keeping him around fo—" The connection snapped like a dry twig.

"I was just cleaning up, Ginevra. He had a wife and son—the woman is running from the back of the house, she is not a target. The boy was at your former school. Curious. I wish to meet this offspring." King Sombra stretched out strange limbs and muscles, relying on the stolen memories of his new body's host to keep from embarrassing himself.

He didn't take any chances this time, carefully dealing with every aspect of Rentmany Goyle. Sombra saw no benefit in keeping the wizard around—he already had a perfect student. "This is your hunt, Ginevra. Where next?"

"So it's every time you use your magic, huh? That sucks for you." Rake held up a scale from her last molt and used the rough surface to sharpen one of her claws. "And it's pretty obvious you're turning into a pony. Still, for a pony, you're not stupid."

"That's such a relief." Charles Weasley looked at the white hair that had worked its way down his arms. "And I need to keep using it to keep them fed." He nodded his head to where Whistlewing and Norbert were basking on a rock nearby.

Rake turned her head to look at the two dragons and blew out through her nostrils—leaving two smoke trails. "You really have a thing for taking care of 'em, don't ya? Will you give up being you for 'em?"

That was the crux of it, and it surprised Charlie that Rake had thought it. What was infinitely more surprising was him nodding his head. "Yeah. They saved my life despite having no actual reason to. I owe them, but I also admire them. They're fighters, Earth dragons. Wizards tried to wipe them out for so long that some of us decided we needed to protect them."

"You're a wizard, right?" When Charlie nodded, Rake continued. "Okay, so why were you lot trying to wipe them out?"

Flexing his stiff fingers, Charlie pulled out his wand. "The muscle of dragon hearts is used to make some of the most powerful wands. Not that I would use one. I found willow to be the best."

"That thing's the source of your magic?" Having learned to be careful with Charlie, Rake merely pointed at his wand rather than reaching out to touch it.

"No, but I need it to do magic."

"Why don't you use your horn? That's kind the thing unicorns do with 'em."

"What, you mean this thing is actually useful?" Reaching up to his forehead, Charlie tried to ignore the extra hair his fingers encountered as he touched at the horn. "How's it work?"

Rake barked out a laugh that came with a rush of blue flame. She turned to look at Charlie and asked, "What kinda dragon do you think I am?"

"The kind that needs to help me find a way to be more useful?" Flicking his wand around in his fingers, Charlie felt the eagerness of the wood—its desire to be used. "But yeah, my fault. So what else do dragons like except their hoards?"

"Fighting. Baking ourselves in lava. Fighting. Eating gems. Fighting. Fighting. Also, we like to fight sometimes." Rake reached to the pile of bright sapphires at her side and grabbed a few and munched on them.

"Okay, so something to help you fight?"

"Not for me. I'm big enough I win any fight I get in with the runts around here—that's why none of them'll touch you. Free gems is a good enough way to make me happy. What about lava? Can you make something really hot?" More priceless (on Earth) gems got tossed into Rake's mouth before terminal crunching dispatched them.

"There's a spell that's meant to be able to burn anything except stone… It's called Fiendfyre." Charlie wasn't sure if mentioning wizardkind's more destructive spell was a good idea. "It'll probably turn me more into a pony, not that I'm going to be able to stop that anyway."

"Anything but stone? I don't know if that'll be hot enough. Do you have anything that'll melt stone?"

"I know a wizard who likely would, but let's try the best fire spell I know first. Not that Fiendfyre stuff, that's a little too nasty." Charlie ran through the magic he knew and aimed his wand at a rock in front of him. "This one is normally pretty weak, but I was pretty good at it in school. The trick is that the longer you keep it on something, the hotter it gets."

Stream of flames was a simple spell. It needed only a simple incantation that Charlie hadn't had to use since his first few castings of it. Aiming his wand more carefully, he sent his will and magic down through is hand and the shaft of willow in his grip.

"Whoa! Purple flames? Sweet." Before Charlie could react, Rake reached her foretalon out and put it into the stream of flames. "Huh, getting warm."

If Charlie hadn't already determined Rake to be practically indestructible, he would have stopped his spell immediately. As it was he kept a close eye on her to see if she were showing signs of being hurt, but the longer he kept the flame on her hand, the bigger her smile got.

What he had noticed was that the hair on his arms was now all the way to his hands and his hands started to feel a little cramp-y. "I think that's as hot as it will go."

"That's pretty good, actually. Not quite lava temperature, but close to it. Can you do the middle of my back, just between my wings?" Rake got up and turned her back to Charlie—something she'd never do to another dragon.

Sighting down his hand, Charlie could see more and more fuzz sprouting from his hand as he worked the spell. He could feel a tingle in his growing horn, and tried to focus on that as something distinct from his wand. One moment the gout of flame was coming from his wand, the next it was coming from his wand and his horn.

"Oh! Right there! I thought you said you couldn't get it hotter?" Rake looked back over her shoulder at Charlie and gave him a fang-filled smile. "Got your horn working? Nice."

"Working out how to get my horn not-working right now, actually." Charlie could feel himself changing at a far more rapid pace. His hands both seemed to meld together one finger at a time, and he was shrinking inside his clothes.

The flow of magic to both his wand and his horn suddenly cut off as Rake turned and took each in a different hand. It was like having his body dunked in ice-water. A shiver ran through him as the touch of her magically inert scales acted like a sink and left him unable to even feel magic. "Th—Thanks."

"You good now?"

First Charlie tried to nod, but the grip Rake had on his horn stopped him from being able to nod. "Yeah. Thanks." When she released both her grips, Charlie let out a sigh as magic seemed to flow back into him. "How did you do that?"

"Dragons and magic." Rake just shrugged and rolled her shoulders. "I was surprised your fire spell even worked. I guess you make the fire close to you and just shoot it out?"

The insight surprised Charlie. As he tried to sort out how his one hand that still had movable fingers worked, he revised his opinion of Rake's intelligence upward again. "Yeah, actually. So dragons are what to magic?"

"When a dragon is nearing adulthood, their scales become a little bit more of everything, but the biggest thing they become is a bad day for magic. You can still use magic to do stuff to us, but you can't use the magic directly on us. If any of that makes sense."

Rake was making a lot of sense to Charlie. So other dragons in the area, younger dragons, wouldn't be immune to magic yet. That was likely why they were all kept in one place like this and guarded by an adult or two, he figured. "Yeah, I think I have that worked out. Torch is taking a big risk letting me stay here, isn't he?"

"That's why he made you my problem. He knows my scales are almost to being fully adult—that I'm almost fully adult. He wanted someone nearby in case you tried to do something insanely stupid. At first anyway. Torch isn't stupid, so I think he figured out you aren't either." She watched curiously as Charlie sorted himself out and adjusted his clothes to fit his shorter stature. She felt a little sympathy for him—not being a dragon and immune to magic would definitely suck, but she knew it'd suck more if she was a dragon and then became something else. "It's magic changing you, right?"

"Yeah. Every time I use it, I change a bit more. I guess the magic here is just a lot more unicorn than it was back home."

Thoughts warred in Rake's head. On one talon, she pondered, Charlie is an outsider. But on the other he's also pretty cool for a non-dragon and doesn't deserve to have all this happen to him. "Follow me."

Charlie followed Rake all the way to a sheer cliff side. Large boulders made walking in anything approaching a straight line impossible, and when Rake turned right and then left around a pair of boulders, Charlie moved quick to follow her into the gloom of what seemed to be a cave. "This is—"

"If I hear you told anyone about this, I'll pound your head so hard you'll be stuck in the ground. Got it?" Rake walked to what resembled the rear of the cave, then turned and slipped through a side opening.

Following Rake deeper into the cave, Charlie froze at the mountain of gems that lay before him. The cave had opened into a huge bowl, and that bowl was full of stones. Gemstones. "This is your hoard."

"I only brought you here because I know you're not stupid enough to take anything or think you can swindle me. I would have taken this out to you, but it's so delicate it'd fall apart in my claws." Rake walked past her gems, barely resisting the urge to climb the pile and lie on them.

What Charlie saw when he reached a dark corner of the cave with Rake—wasn't a thing. Focusing on his horn and leaving his wand in his robes, he cast a Light charm. Then Charlie gasped. "Dragons molt?"

"When we're smaller it's more dramatic. This was my last set of scales before getting my adult scales in full. They were partially magic resistant." Rake crouched low and pinched one of the larger scales that'd broken free of her old skin. "You're clever, Charlie. What could you do with these?"

The most incredible ideas rushed through Charlie's mind. Magic resistant robes was the best thing he could think of. Shrugging off curses and charms in a duel, he'd be able to stand toe-to-toe with Dumbledore! But that wasn't why she'd shown it to him. "Why do you keep your old scales here?"

"Other dragons could taunt me with them, though I don't really care about that so much. Force of habit." Picking up a small part of skin that had been on her arm, Rake held it out to Charlie. "If you made a hat with this inside it, you could limit how much magic you use. Just don't use your wand."

"That might work. I'm not—Do unicorns just accidentally use their horns often?"

"Don't know. Don't care." Stomping over to her pile of gems, Rake walked through them—wading to the top of the pile. Gemstones against her scales, hot with their proximity to the lava flows in the rock, sang songs of eternity through her body. "And try to keep it down while you work. If any dragon sees you coming or going, don't come all the way back here. Just—I dunno—let them eat you or something."

Carefully taking off his robes, Charlie started to take stock of not just his possessions, but also himself. He was smaller—not just his limbs but his torso had shrunk. He was covered in a coat of hair from his collarbone down his body and arms, all the way to mid calf on each leg. He had a tail—or at least the start of one—but what shocked him most was how his right arm looked.

The hand he'd been holding his wand in earlier was now gone. Where his wrist and hand had been there was a fetlock and hoof. Yet still that wasn't the most shocking thing to Charlie. He looked at his hoof in wonder for a moment, then looked past it to the refracted patterns it made on the floor of the cave.

His arm looked like it was made of clear-white crystal. "Rake?"

"What?" In her present position, it was hard for anything to break Rake's good mood and annoy her—yet she had to give Charlie credit for managing it.

"Do you know any ponies that are made from gemstones?"

Rake's attention was focused completely on Charlie. Her every sense stretching to examine what he was showing her. His arm—now a pony foreleg—looked to be one large hunk of crystal. Like a diamond it glittered in the light of his horn. Greed boiled up inside, but like every adult dragon she could fight it back—somewhat. He was here, in her den, part of her hoard.

Having an Earth dragon look at him like he was a piece of meat was a level of objectification Charlie was use to. Having an Equestrian dragon look at him like he belonged to them was something else. It was so startling that when he saw Rake shake her head and look away, blushing, he felt compelled to speak up. "Are you okay?"

"Me? You ask me if I'm fine? I have the biggest and most unique gemstone I've ever seen in my own hoard and you ask if I'm fine? I want to coil around you and bury you in here and—" Rake snarled and lit the room up with a gout of fire from her mouth.

Charlie watched as the flame danced around the ceiling of the cave, its light dwarfing his horn. "I'll cover myself back up. Sorry."

Rake turned her head to watch Charlie covering himself back up. All the dragon scales in her den wouldn't be enough to protect him if the other dragons found out about what he was becoming. Her claws weren't big enough and she doubted even Torch's willpower and the Bloodstone Scepter were enough to stop the war she could see brewing over Charlie. "You need to keep covered all the time. If that spreads—You need to keep it hidden."

"Is it really that bad?" Charlie felt he already knew the answer. Rake seemed a perfectly intelligent dragon—probably even smarter than most of the wizards he knew—but the way she'd looked at him a moment ago gave him chills.

"I—I might have to change my plans. You can't stay here with all these juveniles. I'll talk to Torch." Rake stood up in her hoard and tried to not think about whether it seemed a bit smaller in comparison to herself. She wasn't going to give into her greed over this. "And don't leave this cave."

Watching Rake leave, Charlie had to wonder how much dragon poop he'd just jumped into and if there was a bottom to it. "Maybe it's time to start swimming?" he asked nobody.

Author's Notes:

Princess Cadence: As it seems humans are losing their magic, if they decide to immigrate to the crystal empire, could you let them live there?

"I find Shining Armor and myself thrust into a position of leadership neither of us expected—though we have both been trained for it. The crystal ponies, and I mean all the crystal ponies, are welcome to reside in the Crystal Empire. As a young nation—no matter how ancient it might otherwise seem—we will only succeed with hard work and strong hearts. I only hope they can bring both."

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Three ponies (or pony-shaped people) and a pony-lamia didn't fit on one broom. For a start, Addera refused to let herself be shrunk, and then there was the issue of who would ride the broom and carry everyone.

Which was why we were walking. We being Twilight, Madam Hooch, and me—Addera was slithering. A warm two days had dried the swamp enough that walking through it wasn't nearly as bad.

My mood probably had something to do with finding out my trick could actually kinda work, and at least one other kirin thought it was a good way to do it. To say nothing of Madam Hooch calling it practical.

"I don't mean to pry, but why are you going back so soon? Didn't you want to learn how they stop from bursting into fire?" Twilight asked.

"Well, the thing was I thought they'd have the answers I needed, what with being kirins all their lives, but when I talked with Rain Shine, she didn't seem to be doing things better than I was already." There. I managed to say it without saying they had a town full of crazy kirin that could explode at any second.

Except for one. Autumn Blaze had been a strange kirin, but strange in a good way. A wizard way.

"Oh." Twilight looked a little confused, but she nodded along easily enough. "So, where are you going now?"

"We—that is I—need to go back to Earth. There was a family there that took care of me. I need to let them know that they don't need to anymore." I turned my head and looked up at Addera. The warmth in her eyes made me feel excited and happy. "It's something I was trying to put off, but Madam Hooch reminded me that I need to finish my old life before starting a new one."

"Very well put, Mr. Potter."

"You don't like them, Harry Potter. Tell me why." The request from Addera surprised me

I looked up at her and felt my shoulders relax a little. Had I actually been dreading this? Maybe. "They're not very nice and—I don't normally like to talk about it." I stared at the ground as I spoke. "They take care of me, but I don't feel like—like we're a family."

Madam Hooch snorted at that.

"What are your thoughts, Rolanda Hooch?"

I looked up at Addera to see her looking at Madam Hooch. Then I turned all my attention to Hooch.

"They are what we call muggles. Humans with no sense for magic, though now I suppose it would be more truthful to say they are pure humans or humans with so little of the crystal pony blood in them as they cannot control magic at all.

"But that's not what I hold against the Dursleys. While many muggles are very nice people once you get to know them, the Dursleys seem to pride themselves on being insular and—and rotters. Harry, please tell Addera where they had you sleeping."

I don't know why I glanced at Twilight. She'd been keeping out of the conversation, but was listening intently. Without any support from that quarter, I sighed. "They kept me under the stairs in a closet."

Addera looked at me from behind her glasses, and I realized how completely without emotion she seemed. At first it made me curious, but then I noticed her tail-tip was flicking very rapidly.

"Addera?" I asked.

"Harry Potter, I made some very specific promises to you. I won't be escorting you all the way to see these Dursleys, however I believe I can rely on Madam Rolanda Hooch for that particular meeting?" Addera looked up at Hooch and each nodded to the other.

It got so quiet as we kept walking that I tried to keep a bit closer to Twilight. When my attempts to keep pace with her caused me to almost trip, she turned her head and looked down to me. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. How much further is it?"

"Long enough for another magic lesson. Have you been practicing your channeling?" My groan must have let her know I wasn't exactly managing to keep on top of that. "Well, let's do them together, okay? Reach for your magic."

My magic was easy to find, it was the burning mass of excitement bubbling inside—but she wanted my other magic. Relaxing my mind as I walked, I let that hint of pure Equestrian magic start to trickle in.

She coached me, and the more I channeled the magic in and out, the more easily it flowed. It was almost like sleeping the way the cool magic seemed to flush away my anger and—My eyes snapped open and stared ahead not comprehending what I was seeing.

The train sitting at the end of the tracks.

The thought I'd been startled by was gone. Whatever the revelation was had been lost to the reality of a train waiting for us. "T-Twilight?"

"It used to get me the same way. Come on, we're heading back to the Crystal Empire." Twilight led me up onto the platform beside the train where Addera and Madam Hooch were talking.

"… escort him to London, and to the street where they reside, but for their own sake I won't go near them. I made a promise I intend to keep, Rolanda Hooch," Addera said.

"I," Madam Hooch said, "am under no such promise." The smile she shared with Addera chilled my blood. Okay, it was time to adjust my definitions here—witches could be way more scary than wizards.

It had been a strange few days. As I climbed onto the train, I felt like I'd found out the meaning of life only to have it turn out to be a joke. This was meant to be an adventure to find out a safer way to live, but it ended up being confirmation that life was strange and complicated. "You were right."

Hedwig cut short any reply Madam Hooch might have made to my statement as she landed on my back just as I got inside the train. With a little hiss, she wiped her beak clean on my back.

'I hunted.'

I figured as much. I turned my head to poke my snout against her feathers and got a peck for my trouble—a peck that didn't hurt in the slightest thanks to my scales.

'I could peck harder.'

Sure you could, but then it might hurt.

"What was I right about?" Madam Hooch's voice snapped me from my communing with Hedwig. It took me a moment to realize what she was asking about.

"Life is too complicated for easy answers," I said as I climbed up onto the bench seat beside Madam Hooch. "But hope can make it hard to remember that."

Fluffing up her wings, Madam Hooch seemed to be paying more attention to Hedwig than to me. "A lesson worth spending a few days to learn, I'd say. Your owl seems to be far more tame than any I've ever seen before."

"Hedwig? That's because of the bond."

"What bond?"

"Addera called it a familiar bond, but she didn't seem to know much more than it could be used by bad wizards to control animals. So far it seems more the other way around to me." When I turned to nuzzle Hedwig again, instead of pecking me she let out a little whistle and stroked her beak along my cheek.

"I believe, Mr. Potter, you'll need to start from the start. What is a familiar bond, why was Addera worried about it, and why isn't she worried about yours?" The train shunted while Hooch was halfway through speaking, though she didn't seem too troubled by it.

"She said it was what Salazar Slytherin used to control her mother. It's a bond between a wizard or witch and an animal. There's some kind of ritual, and we were trying to research that when everyone had to leave Hogwarts.

"Anyway, it lets the wizard take control of the animal and use them for their own ends. Addera was worried I'd use Hedwig like that."

'You don't.'

I know I don't. I wouldn't ever want to do that to you, Hedwig.

'That is why you're the best wizard there is.'

Thanks. Was there good hunting today?

'No. I found some rabbit-things, but they tried to fight back. It was fun.'

"Harry Potter?" Hooch's words snapped me from my conversation with Hedwig. "You looked very discombobulated. Are you feeling alright?"

"S-Sorry. That's the thing. Hedwig was talking to me and—That's why Addera is less worried. It's only a guess, but I think the first thing that happens in these bonds is that the wizard uses their mind to—to dominate the animal." My chats with you are a little faster than just talking, but more than a sentence or two and people notice.

'Then we will keep words brief.'

"Like the Imperius curse. You haven't learned anything about the pinnacle of the Dark Arts yet, Harry, but this seems dangerously close to some of those foul curses." Hooch drew her broom from her back and started picking through the bristles with her teeth.

"Oh. But I haven't done that."

Chewing on a twig that was apparently a problem, Hooch broke it off nearly three centimeters from the end before dropping the broken piece on the bench beside her. "I am relieved to hear that."

"I know, but the funny thing is it seems more like it runs the other way, but not exactly exerting her will. Hedwig sometimes gets excited about things—usually hunting and finding bacon—and she worked out how to show me what she felt and saw. When she does that, I can't really say no."

'I don't do it without asking now.'

I know, and that's why you're the best owl there is.

'Correct.'

"…nds dangerous. Perhaps we should research a way to break this bond?" Hooch asked.

"No!" 'No!'

I shook my head. "No. I mean, we've come to an agreement. She only does it when we're both relaxed and I ask her. We're learning what this means slowly, but I don't think there's any dark magic involved."

Hooch looked like she was about to say something, stopped, then let out a chuckle. "Harry, for any other student in Hogwarts, I would say something along the lines of, 'You don't have the experience to begin to say that.'

"But you do. A little, at least. Please, until we can return to Hogwarts and Dumbledore can observe it, don't attempt to use this new power. This applies to you too, Miss Hedwig."

'Tell her I promise not to.'

I'm not going to do that, because then she'll know we did.

"Did you just tell her?" Hooch asked.

How did she know? Did I have a look to me when talking to Hedwig?

'You do.'

Gee, thanks. Now she'll know I'm talking to you again. And I am literally talking to you right now. I should stop and—

Hooch cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter, since you seem unable to accomplish this, why don't we just fall back to neither of you take control of the other?"

"It's mostly her doing it. She said she promised not to do it, and then she did it, and she can hear my thoughts so I'm always doing it—but I think we can manage not to do the show-and-tell bit, right?"

'I can stop doing that until tomorrow, but then I have to show you twice as much.'

That's sound logic, I guess. "She says she can hold off, but then she'll have twice as much to show me tomorrow."

"I guess that's the best I can hope for, then. There's a saying about how owls always manage to glide through dark times. I can only hope Miss. Hedwig can do so until we're sure the darkness isn't too much for the pair of you."

'I like that.'

You would. I like it too.

"You noticed it too?" Jack Crowley leaned on his staff as he stood on guard in the middle of a busy Sydney street. He was on traffic duty, of course, which was the literal guiding of muggle drivers around the things they couldn't see—first and foremost being Jack himself, Liz Harrington, and the rift between worlds that had appeared at the intersection of North Liverpool Road and Elizabeth Drive (the name of the latter street was still a sore subject for Liz).

"It'd take a normie to not notice it, and even then they might. Standing here just feels—It feels normal." Liz walked around the rift, keeping one eye on the traffic driving around them. "But what I noticed more was when we ain't here."

"Bingo. Is it sucking all the magic out of the world, or is it caused by all the magic having gotten sucked out of the world?"

"Or is this the source of magic, and something's blocked it?"

"Could be any of those," Jack said as he stopped and peered a bit closer.

Liz gestured with her wand to pull Jack back and found there to be a bit of force pulling him toward it. "Jack, you might want to—"

"Calm yer bits, Liz. I could feel it have a slight pull to it and was about to step back." Jack pulled out a pack of gum, unwrapped a piece and started chewing on it. "Damn I need a smoke."

"You've been giving them up for how long now?"

"Eleven—no, twelve years. It's easy for normies, they usually die from the damn things. Oh no, not wizards." Jack looked up at the truck coming toward him and casually gestured with his wand. The driver saw someone pulling out to one side of him, swerved around it, and sounded his horn angrily. "Wards need redoing."

"That's the problem. With all the magic coming from this thing, it scrubs enchantments unless I put more power than I've got into them. Damn it, where's our relief?" Drawing magic into herself—something that came as easily to a fifty-year-old witch as breathing—Liz started building the web of illusions and Lookaway charms that she preferred to memory charms.

Jack chewed away on his gum, wishing he'd taken the offer the previous year of having a memory charm put in to stop his need to smoke. "You know, I have to wonder what's on the other side of this thing—assumin' those Poms were right and it is a portal. What do you think is on the other side?"

Liz was about to reply when a cat tumbled out of the portal. She stared at it for a moment before her brain started to put things together. It was big for a house cat, but it also wore clothes including—a cape and a pair of sandals on its back feet. The feline's coloration was pitch black. "What the bloody hell…?"

Jumping to her feet, Aileek looked around at the strange place she'd landed. "Where am I?"

The accent threw Liz off for a moment. She looked over the cat that now stood on its hind legs and no higher than her waist and didn't for a second question why Aileek would be speaking English. "Just west of Sydney."

"Liz, I don't think I recognize what they are. Did they come through the—Truck!" Jack had almost no time to respond. Liz was the enchanter, he was a battle wizard—which meant he had reflexes akin to those of Aileek. Though he grabbed the feline and tossed her to the side, he had to use his wand to shove Liz along as well while he dove aside.

All three tumbled into the portal.

Groaning at his feet, and with Liz and Aileek looking down for the count, Jack had to take things into his own hands. They seemed to be inside a building of some kind, and he could distinctly hear the sounds of fighting outside.

Everything seemed louder in a fight. Even dueling wizards, who mostly fought only with the sounds of their own voices casting spells, would always remember the noises that came with spells. Adrenaline was part of the reason why. In times of great stress—like mortal peril—every sense was amplified to aid in escape or fighting. Hunched over under the low ceiling, Jack looked out one of the windows to see the most bizarre sight of his life going on.

The Abyssinians of Forepaw were fighting against invaders. Great hulking creatures with shields and spears that seemed to nullify what few magical attacks the cats had.

Jack might not be connected to the town or its people at all, but he could recognize a bully when he saw one, and the monsters that stomped through Forepaw were bullies. "Damn it. Okay, they aren't going into houses, so you should be safe in here."

"Wait." Aileek squirmed under the large human that lay atop her. "You can't save the town. This is just an expeditionary force. If you fight them, they'll send more. They'll wipe Abyssinia from the map."

Turning, Jack looked at Aileek. He studied her, noting the belt around her waist that held a dagger on each side. Those weren't for show and he knew it. "So what then?"

"I hoped…" Aileek pulled herself free completely and stood up. "How many of you are there on the other side of that portal?"

"None immediately. I can call in help." Jack, just like most Australians, couldn't turn down someone who obviously needed aid. "What do you need?"

Norbert had learned to like this new place. There was plenty of room for him and Whistlewing to fly together—something he greatly enjoyed—and he was still able to play with his other friend. His other friend had changed a bunch, but he sure smelled better now they all curled up together at night.

Whistlewing, too, enjoyed a little more freedom than normal. Her homelands had been a little crowded so far as dragon territory went, with the bigger dragons challenging her on every side, but here there were only the strange not-dragons, and they didn't care much where she flew.

When something dared to enter their sky when they were flying in it, however, Norbert and Whistlewing stooped into a perfect spiraling dive toward the falling object.

A second one fell through the same spot as the first, appearing midair and right in front of Norbert. Swerving to avoid the human, Norbert realized that this was a pair of humans without any means of flying. Two things filtered through his smarter-than-average dragon brain: if they hit the ground, Charlie would be angry, but if they did hit the ground, they would be meat to eat.

Whistlewing was almost Norbert's equal in intelligence, but she had cunning backing it up. Three humans hunting food for her was better than one. Snarling at Norbert, she grabbed the closest one with a talon and pumped her wings after the other.

The sound of the two dragons in the sky was fairly normal fare for the Dragonlands now. The Equestrian dragons were used to the strange creatures zooming around the sky, but when Inferno looked up and saw them playing with more humans, he saw opportunity.

Inferno's big sister, Rake, had gained a lot of prestige by doing a special duty for Dragon Lord Torch, and he wanted in on the racket. Smirking, he pumped his wings and launched from a lava flow directly into the sky.

Seeing that Whistlewing already had one human and was trying to catch a second, Norbert turned his attention on the spot where they seemed to come from and was rewarded by three small ones appearing. Three was more than two, so he was going to win! Winning meant being more impressive to Whistlewing, and that was something he increasingly found to be important.

It was easy enough for Norbert to grab the first little human with a claw, the second with his mouth, but he missed the third. They were noisy—screaming a lot—and he started to rethink if just dropping them and making it up to Whistlewing in other ways might be better.

"Got one!" Inferno grabbed the falling human with both his hand-claws and grunted at the weight of them. He wasn't as big as Rake, and wasn't sure if even she would be able to carry a full size human without dropping them. He realized that meant him doing it would make him look even better.

"Pleasedon'tdropme!"

The cry from the female human surprised Inferno. He grunted and used his wings to glide in a slow spiral toward the ground. "How'd you even get up there?" But he wasn't getting anything but a litany of "please" over and over again from her until he finally landed near where Whistlewing had put down the two humans she'd caught.

Simon Bent-Twig took one look at the creature that'd saved him and he considered throwing up, wetting himself, and maybe doing both a second or third time each. Dragons he knew about only in books. It was true he'd been traveling through dragon lands, but their wagon had a spell cast upon it by his talented wife to keep them invisible to the creatures.

May Bent-Twig reached out to her husband and shook him. "Simon! Simon! It's okay! It—It's not hurting us. Where's the girls? Where's Stefan?"

"I'm here, Mum!" Stefan Bent-Twig was the youngest of the family and didn't think it was strange to be saved by a dragon, not at all. "Bella's here too. Where's Bea?"

Drawing her wand from her belt, May cast about the sky looking for her eldest daughter. What she saw was an even stranger sight. "S-Simon! Look!"

Beatrice Bent-Twig clung to the belly of the dragon-thing that'd caught her and wouldn't let go even when it landed. She clung tight for all she was worth and screwed her eyes closed.

"You can, uh, let go now. We're on the ground." Inferno was surprised at the reaction of the human when she let go of him, reached up and grabbed his cheeks, and kissed him.

"Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou!" Beatrice said over and over, her thanks boiling up from within.

Standing stiff as a board, Inferno had no idea what to do. He looked past the human to what he assumed were its parents. To his shock they looked just as thankful as Beatrice, and he feared they might yet run over and hug him as well.

"Hey! It's not like I—" Inferno froze as his brain (an organ that he didn't normally stress too much) actually served up exactly what would have happened if he hadn't caught Beatrice. "I saved you…"

"You can talk?!" Beatrice stared into Inferno's eyes and felt love—or its nearest approximation for a sixteen-year-old girl—well up inside. "You saved my life!"

May rushed over to find her eldest daughter chatting with her savior. The other two winged creatures were well enough known to wizardkind, but while Inferno looked vaguely like the other dragons, that he spoke surprised her. "S-Sorry to bother you, sir, but you saved my daughter and I believe I might have to hug you." It was meant as a joke, but as May approached further, she noticed Inferno showed every sign of being embarrassed.

Her mind racing, May tried to get a feel for the creature and her motherly instincts hit upon only one answer firmly—he was a young whatever-he-was.

"I'm good for hugs!" Not realizing the joke May had been making, Inferno gestured to Beatrice (who was still attached to him like a limpet). "She's your daughter?"

"When she's not hugging a dragon for saving her life. You are a dragon, I take it?" May was fishing for information and trying not to offend. "Bea, you're safe now."

"Mum?" Beatrice's heart had stopped pounding a million miles a minute, which was enough of a break for her brain to kick in and tell her she was currently hugging—and had just kissed—a big talking dragon that'd saved her life. Feeling like she was blushing from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she quickly let go of Inferno and backed away. "S-Sorry, I was just—Thank you for saving me!"

It was Inferno's second ever kiss and it surprised him just as much as the first one. Excitement boiled up from inside and he felt an intense rush of pride almost knock him over despite the briefness of the kiss. "You're welcome Beatrice." The words came out a full octave too high for his normal voice and earned him a giggle from both Beatrice and May.

Giggling, Beatrice stepped back to give her heart a chance to slow down again—she'd discovered its pace was dependent on her distance from Inferno's lips. "Just call me Bea, uh…"

"Inferno. My name. I mean, my name's Inferno." He blinked in surprise at Beatrice. "Yeah, I'm a dragon. Not like those others." He nodded at Norbert and Whistlewing. "Rake's new friend brought them with him when he fell into—Wait! You're from his world, right? Arth I think it was."

"Earth! We're from—" May cut herself short as a new implication hit her. A witch—at least one in good standing—was expected to react quickly to unknown situations. "This isn't Earth, is it?"

"Nope. This here is the Dragon Lands. I suppose you want to meet Rake's friend now? He's been looking after these two totally-not-dragons."

Looking back at her husband and their two youngest children who were with him, May nodded and turned back to look at Inferno. "I believe we would. Do you—" It was easy to assume that a non-human knew about magic, but May realized that she could be in a sticky situation if she revealed it. "Is he a little strange?"

"Yeah. What with him doing magic and all that. Turning him into a pony, if you can believe it? Anyway, he mostly hangs out with Rake over there. I guess I can show you." Turning, Inferno started walking off to show them where Rake and Charlie would be when he saw the pair stalking toward him. "Huh. Never mind. Here they come."

Charlie kept his heavy robe pulled as tight around him as he could, but he could still catch Rake looking at him with a strange hunger. He didn't fear she'd eat him, but he felt a distinct amount of possessiveness from her. "You okay, Rake?"

Nervous, as she always was when a part of her hoard was outside of her den, Rake blew some actual flame out of her nose. "Yeah. Trying not to let this be a problem."

"It's not easy, huh?" The worst part for Charlie was he had to split his focus between working out what five more humans were doing and his situation with Rake.

"Every time I look at you I want to grab you and put you back in my hoard. I can—" She bit off her reply, but knew she had to explain it sometime. "I can feel you, Charlie. A dragon can sense where their hoard is, and my stupid dragon brain has decided you're part of it. I can tell you're walking beside me just as much as I can feel exactly where everything else is that—that belongs to me."

Dragon magic. Charlie took a deep breath and sighed. "You can't help it, huh?"

"It's stupid."

"Right, but if you can't help it, nothing can be done so we just deal with it. You think you can keep from freaking out at your brother over it?" Charlie made a show of checking his shoe, that was now just a bunch of leather tied onto his hoof to hide the fact it looked like a diamond.

"Inferno? He's a runt still. He doesn't have a hoard at all. He's no threat." The words were carried by Rake's feeling. "How do you think they got here?"

"The other humans? Probably fell through the same hole I did, which means we might need to seal it up so no one else falls through. But until we can, we definitely need to keep an eye out for more arrivals." There was more to the situation, Charlie knew. Torch hadn't done anything to hide the fact he expected Charlie to be useful to the dragons and it was unlikely that the dragon ruler would think any differently of more humans arriving. "I need to find a way to feed them and keep Torch from considering us a problem."

Rake nodded. She was well aware that her own fate was tied, possibly tightly, to the humans. "You'll need to get them their own cave, or even one of those houses ponies use." She stopped talking, judging that they were within hearing range of the new arrivals. "Hey, Inferno, what happened?"

"These kinda-dragons were playing catch the human or something and they missed one. I dunno." Inferno completely failed to notice any subtle body-language between Charlie and his sister—which had a lot to do with Beatrice still holding his arm. "Guess I kinda saved one."

Simon Bent-Twig, feeling so far out of his element it wasn't funny anymore, stepped up to Inferno while summoning all his bravery. "Thank you for that. My name's Simon. My wife there is May, and this is Beatrice, Belladonna, and Stefan. We didn't realize there was something there until we fell into it."

"What were you doing in the area? That place is off limits," Charlie said.

"We'd ask you the same question. We had wards on our wagon to keep dragons away, but…" May looked at Whistlewing and Norbert, both of whom were inching their way toward Charlie—yet the wizard (and May had no trouble identifying the robes Charlie wore as robes) didn't seem inclined to gibber and run away as was normal.

When Norbert stomped up to his side and nuzzled at the pocket he kept venison in, Charlie reached out a gloved hand and rubbed the dragon on the snout without much thought. The two new adults both stared at him in shock. Whistlewing, however, circled between Charlie and the Bent-Twig family and made it clear Charlie was her human, though she also nuzzled at the pocket where he kept meat.

"I'm a dragonologist. I was keeping track of several dragons, notably these two, when Whistlewing here got stuck in the portal-rift thing. I tried to free her, but fell through. The local dragons are a completely different kettle of fish, you understand, and it's their lands we're trespassing in." Pulling out two cubes of venison, Charlie channeled magic as he tossed them high into the air.

Stefan's eyes widened as, when the little cubes of meat turned into hocks of venison, both dragons launched themselves up and snapped up one each. "Cor! Look at that, Bell!"

"They're not as cool as Inferno. They can't even talk." Beatrice felt compelled to defend her savior and still didn't want to leave his side. There was something about the raw strength and power of him that made her tummy twitch like it was full of butterflies. She'd had crushes before, but they were only for boys.

"Talking's not even what I'm best at. You should see me lava-diving. Nodragon can keep up with me!" Lifting a fist up, Inferno felt the need to literally thump his chest with it as he gave his wings a flap. "D-Do you want to see me lava-dive?"

"You'll forgive me for saying so," May said, "but if you wouldn't mind taking us back up, we'd like to go back through the portal to—I assume by your expression you've tried?"

Charlie nodded. "Rake looked for a few hours trying to find it. We thought the rift had closed. I don't suppose either of you has a broom?" He didn't need to state that he meant a riding broom, of course.

When he realized Charlie kept looking at him, Simon let out a resigned sigh. "Just to clear something up, uh…"

"Charlie. Charlie Weasley." Stepping up to Simon, Charlie held out his gloved hand.

"Well, Charlie, I'm a squib you see. Not a drop of magic in my blood at all. Sometimes I wonder what my May sees in me. She's the sharp one of our family. She's a witch—trained at Hogwarts and everything."

Knowing it had taken a good bit of bravado to admit that to a wizard, Charlie shook his head. "Wizard or not, you're stuck here like the rest of us. You're a squib, so you know of magic. Can you think of anything that might help? So far I've managed to live off a few yams and hardtack I'd been carrying with me when all this happened."

Simon was too used to being dismissed as soon as he said he was born a magicless squib. "Well, I did keep a kitchen garden back home. We was on holiday when we took a shortcut and—I'll try to find some things to get a farm started. Stefan, Bella, Bea; let's leave yer mum and the nice wizard to chat fer a bit."

When her husband and children were out of earshot, May let out a sigh. "How bad is it? I saw your faded Hogwarts badge there, Gryffindor. I was in Ravenclaw myself."

Charlie let out a relieved sigh—he'd been worried she'd been in Slytherin, but given her husband it was a long shot. "The dragons here are nigh impervious to magic once they reach adulthood, and the current leader of the dragons is a Dragon Lord Torch. He's big enough to roast us and eat us without breaking a sweat. Oh, and that lad Inferno's boast about diving into lava is not idle—these dragons are a threat level higher than even Dementors.

"But they seem to tolerate us for two reasons. They don't eat organic matter except by threat—they feed on gemstones. Torch wants us—me so far, but he'll probably want something from you too—to help the dragons in some way. I don't think it's entirely something he needs, it's just that it's what he needs to see. Also, Rake over there is probably the smartest and most easy-going of the bunch, also, her hearing is probably good enough she could hear a mouse squeak at this range."

"Yeah, I can," Rake said, studying her talons before breathing some fire on them.

"There's another thing. Using your magic will turn you into a unicorn." With that, Charlie pulled his sleeve up a little so May could see the crystalline nature of his arms. "Don't know if it'll stop or if I'll just keep going, but Whistlewing and Norbert need food, and the only source of food I have for them is some leftover meat I've been magicking into venison hocks for them."

The realization that Charlie was giving up his humanity for the dragons struck a note in May's heart. "You're a good man, Charlie Weasley. I've heard much of the Weasley clan—what wizard who ain't a high-and-mighty hasn't? Fiery hair and hearts to match is what they say. But I have to do what I can for my family, you understand?"

"What?" It dawned on Charlie what conclusion she'd jumped to. "Oh! No, no, no! I don't want your help taking care of them. What I was trying to do was warn you that you need to be careful of using your magic, and if you do use it, make sure you use it wisely." Unwrapping his "gloves", Charlie showed the almost-hooves his hands had become. "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold a wand, but I'm getting good with this." He rolled his eyes upward to his horn.

"You can use it to cast spells? That must make life easier." When Charlie held up his mostly-useless hands again, May realized how big her foot was. "Oh, right. Sorry about that. Well, on the plus side, Simon won't be changing at all then, but I'll warn the kids not to do any magic. They each have wands already—I've been home-schooling them."

"Why not Hogwarts?"

"Mostly Simon. The kids have enough to deal with in life without finding out all the bad things wizards say about squibs, or children of squibs."

Charlie winced. "I… I want to say that Hogwarts wouldn't darken their days with that, but I'd be wrong. I love that school—so many good memories there—but someone will bring it up. It mustn't be easy teaching them yourself."

May smiled and shook her head. "It would have been harder if Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't sent me a collection of books on teaching young wizards and witches."

"You teach your own children?" Rake couldn't help herself. The conversation had been hard to follow, but she latched onto one thing. "Why don't you leave that to others to do?"

For a moment May began to get angry. Her hand dipped toward her wand and touched the hard yew wood before she got a grip. "What kind of parent doesn't raise their own children?!"

Shrugging her shoulders, Rake didn't take the anger personally—mostly because she had a good idea May couldn't hurt her. "Dragons. Everyone just dumps their eggs here and leaves them to the dragon lord to look after. The dragon lord organizes the other young dragons to help."

"Wait." Charlie couldn't stop himself. "So Dragon Lord Torch, the biggest and fiercest dragon around, takes care of hatchlings? Didn't he threaten to kill you if we couldn't work out a way to make my magic useful?"

"He makes a lot of threats. What keeps us all in line is not knowing which ones he'll laugh off later and which ones are serious. It's usually best to just do what he says and treat every threat like it's real." With Charlie's hands uncovered, Rake felt her greed threaten to rear its head. His hands glittered like diamonds—she loved diamonds. "C-Cover your hands."

Taking his full attention away from May, Charlie turned to Rake. "And if I say no? You need to get used to this—to me."

"The worst part about this is how easy-going you are about it." Rake ground her teeth and could feel a good burst of fire easing its way up her throat. She wanted to scream and incinerate everything on the whole island, but most of all she wanted to make sure Charlie was safe. "Argg!"

May and Charlie both backed up as Rake arched her head back and let loose with a gout of flame that shot high into the air. The intensity of the leading fireball was enough to make both look away from the heat alone.

"You!" Raising one talon to point at Charlie, Rake was well aware that flame was literally dripping from her mouth. "I can't stand to think of you being hurt. And you!" She rounded on May. "If you end up anything like him—" She bit the sentence off in a growl. Turning, she started stomping off toward the lava lakes. "If you need me, I'll be punching rocks and dragons."

May waited for the furious dragon to leave before asking, "What was her problem?"

"It's complicated. Just don't use magic and you won't complicate it more."

Author's Notes:

Twilight Sparkle: Do you have any advice for handling young fire starters like dragons (and Kirin)?

"Well, when he was growing up, we tried to make sure Spike only had the softer gems to eat—nothing that would cause undue burps—but dragons will be dragons. A house full of unicorns helped with putting out what fires did start, and we all learned mending spells to quickly undo whatever his weak fire breath managed to incinerate." Reaching out a foreleg, Twilight pulled Spike into a hug. "Baby dragon fire is far less destructive than it is magical, so we didn't have the kind of burning everything problem that Harry Potter has."

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Preparations

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The day was half over and we'd only just passed through Canterlot. It was funny how Madam Hooch blushed when we were there, but I couldn't work out why or how to ask without sounding stupid.

'An owl would just ask.'

Yes, Hedwig. Are you going to keep replying to my every thought?

'Until I can show you everything properly again, yes.'

I couldn't help but giggle. Reaching a hoof up, I stroked down Hedwig's back. A little shiver of sensation tickled up and down my spine, but I tried to ignore it since she wasn't meant to share sensations.

Still, we kept up chatting most of the day, and the more she talked to me the more she was saying.

'Of course I'm saying more. I only just learned how to talk a few days ago.'

Good point. I think we're almost back to Hogwarts—err, the Crystal Empire. It's getting colder and there's more snow on the ground.

A hoof ran down my own back, and the sensation mimicked what I'd felt from Hedwig so much I'd barely realized that it wasn't me causing it. Addera made a soft noise with her scales on the seat. "You're quiet, Harry Potter. Is Hedwig talking a lot?"

"We both are. She said she's learning a lot the more we talk, and I've noticed her talking a lot more. She's a clever owl." The last earned me a gentle beak working over one of my ears.

"I can see that, Harry Potter. Personally, I don't think there is any dark magics involved with this bond. I have seen with my own eyes what a one-sided familiar bond between a wizard and an intelligent creature does, and this is not it." Addera slowly wound her tail around the seat. When I didn't protest, she brought the tip up and used it to rub Hedwig's chest. "We are almost back to Hogwarts."

"I know. I liked it when we were leaving. It felt like we were doing things for ourselves, but that's selfish, isn't it?"

'You should be selfish once in a while.'

"Sometimes you should be selfish, Harry Potter." Addera's words made me shiver. "Is something wrong?"

"You and Hedwig said the same thing at the same time. I guess that means it's right, then." The train started a long corner that gave me a view of the Crystal Empire. A burning rainbow light shot up from the palace in the middle and cast a dome of light over the city. "That's beautiful."

As the train pulled up to the station, I realized that the hastily put-together structure was just outside the bubble of magic that covered the Crystal Empire. "Why's the bubble stop there?"

"See that arch, that's where the magic of the Crystal Heart is permeable. If you try to cross the barrier anywhere else, you'll just bump your face into it." Twilight stepped off the train with us onto the wooden platform. "I want to talk to Cadance and my brother again. Since we were in a bit of a hurry last time, I didn't get to say a proper goodbye."

"Harry Potter!" That voice was one that could cut glass. McGonagall when she was displeased was literally the worst thing in the world—and having fought Voldemort, that was saying something. "What on Earth possessed you to go gallivanting off at—?"

She stopped. I looked around to work out why, only to see Madam Hooch stepping down from the train behind me. She was looking at McGonagall, and when I looked back I could see McGonagall was returning the look.

Well, honesty was the best policy with McGonagall. She could smell a lie at a thousand paces and at the distance we were apart, she could practically taste one. "I just wanted to not be a burden. I went to find the kirin and see if they could teach me how to stop setting things on fire."

Looking over her glasses at me, McGonagall took and let out a slow breath. "And how did that go?"

I hung my head and looked at the wooden floor. "Terribly. They tried to tell me the best way to deal with my anger was to shove it all into a ball and ignore it. Though, there was one kirin that used the same trick I do. She said she's been setting things on fire whenever she got upset for ages."

"And it works for you and her?" McGonagall asked.

Nodding, I thought about it. "Yeah, but I wanted to work out something so I don't set things on fire. This just has me manage it."

"Maybe, Harry Potter, kirin cannot just 'manage it', and they must express themselves as nirik from time to time?"

"So I'll be stuck doing this?"

"Have you set any part of Hogwarts on fire that you didn't mean to?" Her tone had changed from stinging to teacher. Maybe I wasn't going to get turned into something horrible for a month or two.

I opened my mouth to mention the owlery, but she was right—I had meant to set that on fire at the time. "No, ma'am."

"I'd say then, Harry Potter, that this method is working for you and that other kirin. All shoving your emotions away will result in is them bursting free at the least opportune times. Please go and make preparations to return to your home—"

Madam Hooch cleared her throat. "Harry, go and prepare for this trip, but leave anything you want kept here in your room." She was doing it. McGonagall was set to send me back to the Dursleys, but Hooch was going to stop her!

"Rolanda, what have you promised this boy?" McGonagall asked.

"When he was put with those beastly muggles, it was only supposed to be until You Know Who was dealt with. Well, he's not in this world, so that means here is the best place for Harry right now. We couldn't act before because Albus was in control of Hogwarts, but now you have the final say, Minerva." Hooch's words were full of emotions I couldn't begin to understand, but I could have hugged her right then for having said them.

McGonagall just looked at Hooch and the whole station seemed quiet around us. After some weighty minutes, McGonagall nodded. "Right. Harry, you have some things to pick up from Gringotts, and I trust you have some things at that muggle house you'd like retrieved?"

My mind flashed back to Mum and Dad's vault in Gringotts, but also to some of the pictures of them that were still in the Dursleys' house. "Y-Yes. Some photos and—There was a lot of gold in Gringotts. I should bring that with me, right?"

"I'd wager there's more than just gold in your parents' vault, Harry. Very well, Rolanda, since you have made these plans, I'll trust you to safely escort him to fetch his things. Do try to keep a somewhat low profile—I'd suggest being ready with some illusions, wards, and keep a memory charm or ten on standby."

Was it that easy? McGonagall had final say on anything relating to Hogwarts, but could she have made this declaration that easily? What would the Ministry say? Would they get a say if we made it back here before they noticed?

"Right. We'll be heading out tomorrow evening. I have a few things to prepare myself." Hooch sounded pleased about it. I wondered if this was some kind of politics-fight-thing, but when I looked from Hooch to McGonagall, she was smiling too.

I have literally no idea what is going on, and I think I know why. These are two witches that are at the peak of their craft. Nothing I could do, say, or learn would help me understand this—even if I was the greatest wizard in both worlds.

The first hammer of wind—far stronger than normal—struck Azkaban prison like a bell clapper. The whole structure rang in a slow groan as ancient, spell-infused rock resisted shifting with all its might.

With limited success.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Alastor Moody turned around while his eye spun in its socket. When his charmed false eye located what had happened, he swore marginally worse. "This storm ain't natural. That was a hunk of Azkaban that just let go."

"Well, why don't we get out of here?" Smiling at his new friend, Sirius Black gestured to the door of the interrogation room. "You got here somehow, why don't you call for—"

"Because something's coming and it's going to rip this place apart stone by stone to find Voldemort's followers. I don't know what it wants with them exactly, lad, but I can't wager it'll be anything good."

"So what do we do? You have a bunch of wardens, a half-giant, and a house elf that can do magic here."

"To find out how to use our forces, I need information. What is coming and how big is it? Come along, Sirius, let's go take a gander at whatever this storm is throwing." Rolling his hip toward the door, Alastor made his way out and past the startled guards with Sirius following him. "Taking the lad up to the roof to show 'im the sights. How'd I get up there?"

With directions secured, Alastor made his way up the long stairs to the roof of Azkaban prison. The final ascent was a ladder that led to a corroded, iron hatch. A shove, a punch, and a zap with his wand later and Alastor stood atop Azkaban with Sirius at his side.

The rain hammered down upon the prison while the waves sprayed foam almost all the way to the top of the great ocean fortress. Never before had the mighty, magical stonework stood up against such a brutal natural attack, but even as the full weight of the storm was known to the two wizards, it suddenly went quiet. The waves calmed, the wind died, and the rain eased.

A flicker of light through the raging gray storm around them repeated again and again. Sirius asked, "What is that?"

"Bad news fer us. There's only two kinds of flames that could survive that storm, and I want nothing to do with either of them." Alastor turned to look at the calm they were in and the maelstrom just beyond. The flickers of red came again and again. "If it were Fiendfyre, it would grow in huge sheets. That just leaves dragonfire."

"Should we hide?"

"Is hidin' what wizards do?"

"Yes. It's what wizards do best. We hide from muggles, we hide from each other, and we hide the things we don't want to look at in big, bloody prisons." Sirius pointed at another gout of flame in the storm. "And right now, I want to hide from whatever causing all this, because it's not a dragon, which means we're facing a dragon and some bloody wizard who can control the weather!"

That halted Alastor in his tracks. He took one look around and nodded. "Thinkin' you might be right, there. How did you say you were going to get out of this?"

"My ride's almost here. You, me, Hagrid, and Toil. There's no room for anyone else. Don't the guards here have some way to declare an emergency and get out?"

Flicking his wand at the metal hatch, Alastor opened it back up and winced. "Something's up with the magic here, too. That took more than it should have to heft that thing."

Waiting for Alastor to climb down into Azkaban, Sirius froze at the sight that played out before him. At the edge of the storm a huge red dragon punched its way through the sleet and wind. It beat its mighty wings as it drew closer, and that's when Sirius saw a ghostly, black-clad form on its back looking down upon him.

It was like time halted. Ginevra Molly Weasley looked at the emaciated wizard atop Azkaban—took in his lack of a weapon or wand—and concluded that he had to be an escaping prisoner. Gesturing with one hand, she called to the mark she knew would be upon him, but there was no reply.

As the moment of shock ended, Sirius jumped down the porthole and pulled the hatch closed with all his force. "LOCK IT!"

"What?!" Alastor asked.

"Lock this bloody thing with every shred of magic you can! There's a dementor out there riding a dragon, and I could swear she was trying to rip my soul out by looking at me. Just get this secured!"

Alastor was all for action when action was advised. The pale look on Sirius' face told him enough, and with a force of single-minded will, he bound the hatch closed with a Locking charm of great power. The flourishes he added to it spoke of many years working to keep things out of the hands of the wrong sorts to use them.

Then, for good measure, Alastor Moody wrought an Anti-Alohomora charm layered upon the Locking charm. "That"—Alastor panted a little from the effort he spent on the magic—"would keep Dumbledore from opening that hatch."

Ginevra had seen Locking charms before, but when she performed an Alohomora charm to counter it, she felt coils of powerful magic lash at and tear up her spell. "What was that?!"

"A very good trick. Let me try something." Sombra walked forward and began examining the magic Alastor had used to seal the entrance. "This is fantastic. Artwork in magical form. I could get lost examining the intricate nature of these spells for years, but I don't have that time."

Snarling at the rooftop of the prison he'd done everything to avoid seeing, Igor raked his claws over the charms and stones. Rock and spells alike splintered—some shattering and breaking, others resisting and fighting to survive. It was inconceivable that an Equestrian dragon's claws could be harmed by magic, and yet the creator of Azkaban had wrought magic that did just that. "I don't like it here."

Spinning to look at Igor, Ginevra nodded her head. "Neither do I, but there are fiends within this place that don't deserve the luxury of living out their days here. They are monsters worse even than you or I, Igor."

When Ginevra placed her hand on his snout—covering the icy burn mark she'd left there when first they'd met—Igor let out a soft sigh. "You want me to rip this place apart?" he asked.

"No, Igor. What I need are eyes, ears, and claws inside this fortress. They work even now." The call of like to like had not gone unnoticed by Ginevra. The dementors of Azkaban stirred in excitement at their master's return, but they called out loudly to Ginevra. "Forget the prisoners. Rend the walls. Rip the spells apart. Open this can of villainy for me."

The power Ginevra flexed and the intricacy with which she worked made Igor feel proud to be her minion. He ignored the pain in his claws and stood with his chest puffed out—even flexing his claws on the stonework and spells of Azkaban to let them know he'd soon be within.

"Mr. Burns!" The sound of screaming and scraping hissed along Alastor's ears and down his back. It was like the world itself was a blackboard and something with far too many claws was attempting to play it like an instrument. "Mr. Burns! Your jail is under siege!"

"I can hear that!" Archibald Burns had his wand out and was activating the various wards of the prison. "Something's very wrong here. The wards would stop anything from striking at us from outside, but—"

"Something inside is trying to rip its way out?" Sirius asked.

"No. Not one thing. Many things. You said what got off the dragon looked like a dementor?" Alastor asked. When Sirius just nodded, Alastor let out a sigh. "Then what if it's some kind of dementor plot? It wouldn't be the first time they've overstepped their boundaries."

"If you're right, Auror, then we're in trouble. How many here can cast a Patronus?" Archibald looked at Alastor and Sirius, then to his guards when they ran to the sound of his voice. When every face looked to the floor, Archibald sighed. "Then we can only hope to hold out until help arrives."

Unable to make a corporeal Patronus of his own even before his time in prison, Sirius was sure he'd stand no chance of making one now. "How many wands are here?"

Archibald looked to Alastor, and when the Auror nodded he turned back to Sirius. "There's a sealed box with a wand for each guardsman here. Only the warden can open it."

"Mr. Burns, I believe it's time you open that box." Alastor turned on his good hip and started limping his way back to the interrogation room. When Sirius rushed to catch up, Alastor grunted. "You weren't going to prize a wand out of one of their hands anyway, lad."

"I could have tried." For a moment Sirius actually tried to plan out how that would have went. The guards seemed incompetent, but he had to assume each was trained for fighting with a wand. "And probably failed. What do you have?"

"A half-giant with a wand and a house-elf without one. How did you plan to get out of here?"

"You see…"

Far away, on the shore of the storm-lashed cliffs just outside the city of Aberdeen, in a shed owned by a witch with enough sense to keep her mouth shut when paid well, an engine started on its own.

It had seen several owners, but it had been its penultimate one that had been the stellar point in its life. When Sirius Black had purchased the bike, it hadn't been running. Steel, leather, aluminium, and glass, it hadn't even so much as a spark of life until Sirius began repairing it. Piece by piece, part by part, it had felt itself not just repaired but given life too.

The bike had felt outrage when Sirius had given it to Rubeus to ride. The half-giant had put unreasonable strain on its springs and seat, and it would have complained if he didn't read it bedtime stories each night.

But then a call came. Rubeus' wand sang to it, but it could feel its original owner with him too. That's how it knew it had to be sneaky. Not the kind of sneaky Sirius could do, but it had a small stash of galleons under its seat it could flick out when it needed something, and when the old witch Grace came out to see what the noise in her barn was, it only took a single galleon for her to stop and think about how she hadn't seen a motorcycle offer her a bribe.

Now, however, it had heard the urgent call. Come to me now! it heard. So its engine was started and it was racing to the edge of the cliff and a particular spot in the middle of the North Sea.

In the city of Aberdeen, not far from where the motorbike woke from its rest, two men were sitting in a bus. Stanley Shunpike checked his watch for the umpteenth time. "It's unnatural it is. How's we gonna make money sittin' around like this?"

Ernest Prang rolled his eyes behind his big glasses and sighed. "We're making money just sitting here. You heard what that goblin said—we wait in Aberdeen until our fare arrives." He used the sleeve of his shirt to scrub at his glasses.

"I know that, Ern, but it feels wrong. What if we got other fares waiting?" The Knight Bus sitting still was what bugged Stanley. He hated it. The bus was meant to move and it was meant to move fast.

"Wizards and witches have had to wait before, Stan. You know the rules. We been paid, now we wait for our fare to get on." Ernest found he quite enjoyed the little quiet moment. Leaning back in his seat, he pulled out an old paperback book and started reading.

Leaning closer, Stanley reached out a hand and flicked the nearest corner of the book. "What'cha readin', Ern?"

Turning the book over, careful not to lose his page, Ernest revealed the cover to be The Man With No Name. "Don't look like that. These are good books. You should try reading them."

Stanley turned his nose up. "No way, Ern. No way, no how." He started pacing along the bus. "What you think about what they said?"

Ernest knew he'd never get to read his book—not while Stanley was talking. Stanley always talked. "About what, Stan?"

"Magic goin' away. Everyone talkin' 'bout it. You think it's real?"

"Yes, Stan. Yes it is. But I have a plan… Stan." Ernest pulled an old tattered notepad out of his cardigan's inner pocket (the one he'd sewn to hold things he didn't want everyone to know he had). "There's these portals, you see. Some say they're the sources of magic, but others say the world beyond them is the source. Hogwarts disappeared back there, the rumors say, and Hogwarts has been around… as long as wizards have been wizards. See the connection, Stan?"

"Uh…" Stanley's mind raced. "You mean to say that Hogwarts was the source of all the magic on Earth? How's that work for them what's in other places? Like Austria."

"Australia. And I think it just means that the ocean of magic settled nicely all over the world. But Hogwarts is gone now, Stan, and if we don't give chase we'll be gone soon after." Ernest Prang cleaned his glasses again. "So this will be our last fare here, Stan. We're going for a little drive after this one."

Draco Malfoy slipped in the servant's entrance of the old estate house that comprised of her family's summer home. She'd expected to have to fend off servants questioning her—particularly regarding her appearance—but it was like she was invisible to them. Everyone around her was in a rush to do something.

"What's going on?" Lucian asked.

"The little horse asks 'what's going on?' I'll tell you what's going on, them upstairs folk are in a panic and have locked themselves in the bedroom." Jilla, one of the maids of the house, was at her wits' end, and now she had talking horses to contend with too. "Here, who are you?"

"This is Draco Lucius Malfoy, and I'll have you know that he demands to see his parents right away!" Her tone firm, Helena Fowley glared sternly at Jilla. "There was a mishap at Hogwarts."

The extra information made all the sense for Jilla. She breathed out an exasperated sigh at the problems of witches and wizards. "Very well, follow me."

That Jilla looked at Lucian rather than Draco surprised none of them, though it did sting Draco's pride just a little more. Once they left the back-halls of the house, she recognized where they were and where they were going. Up flights of stairs and down a large hallway, they approached her own bedroom.

"Lord and Lady Malfoy? May I present to you your son." Jilla backed away quickly—from experience she knew that the head of the household could and would do horrible things to a messenger and that putting targets between himself and herself was for the best.

Her eyes soaked, Narcissa turned with ruined makeup and unmade hair to look at the three creatures in the doorway. "D-Draco?"

There was nothing else for it. Draco summoned every ounce of her pride and self-assurance and stepped forward. "Mother, Father, I'm home."

Lucius Malfoy, who'd just gotten news earlier that his son had been not only turned into an equine (along with the rest of the school), but also turned inside out in a bad apparition accident, glared at Draco with his face cold and hard. "You had better start explaining, boy."

Draco wanted to look her father back in the eyes, but kept looking to her mother. In Narcissa's eyes she could see realization of a thousand little things. "It all started with—with Voldemort." The name fell from her mouth before she realized it. So long had they used aliases for him that it felt strange to say it. She spoke.

As he listened, Lucius realized that the creature before him was his son. There were things Draco said and knew that wouldn't be known by anyone else. When the topic of sex was brought up, however, he realized what had been bothering him about the pony. "You're not my heir, then?"

"Lucius!" Narcissa practically exploded. She rounded on her husband—hand over the holster she kept her wand in. "We have our Draco back. Let's pack our bags and go—now!"

Lucian had been passive so far, but hearing what amounted to wizard royalty argue shook him from his fugue. "Go?"

"Who are these? The Crabbe and Goyle boys?" Lucius asked.

"N-No. This is Lucian Bole and Helena Fowley. When the Ministry were"—Draco summoned more of her fortitude and straightened—"ham-fisting everything, they helped me get here faster. We'd still be traveling if it were left to… Ugh, I can't even be bothered to recall their names."

The phrasing and attitude made Lucius smile just a little, though he struggled not to show it. "Then a good job they did, and they'll be rewarded for it. We are leaving, Draco. Pack whatever you wish to bring."

Staring at her father as he stormed out of the room, Draco wasn't prepared for the hug incoming from her mother. "Mu—"

"Don't you give me any of that, Draco." Picking Draco up and carrying her to the bed, Narcissa sat down carefully and glared across Draco's back at Helena and Lucian—it only took the slightest touch of her magic to close the door to them and give herself the freedom she needed to start crying again.

Stepping back from the door, Lucian looked at Helena. "What you think that's all about?"

"A mother who loves her child no matter what?" Helena asked with a raised brow.

"Nah. I get that. I mean the bit about moving. Where do you think they're going?"

"You didn't hear, then?" Jilla had been snooping nearby just in case she was needed again. She still might be, but that didn't stop her from taking the chance to gossip. "The magic's fading. All draining away to that other world. All the 'igh and mighty families are gathering up their things to follow it."

"Fading? What you mean, 'Fading'?" Lucian asked.

"Exactly that. Everyone can feel it, they just don't say it out loud. You'd do well to scoot on back there." Considering her work done, Jilla turned and took the opportunity to leave the conversation lest she get dragged into anything.

Helena was the first to speak. She looked Lucian in the eyes and searched for an answer to her one question. "Our families…?"

"Yeah. How're we gonna do this?" Not the best with plans that didn't involve hitting things, Lucian looked to Helena for guidance.

"Your family first. You're the one who can apparate, so you can get us there faster." The plan, Helena had to admit in her own head, was good. She just hated it. "Then we work out if we can make it to my family from there."

"I hate this plan." Lucian beckoned Helena closer with a hoof. "But I can't think of anything better, and I hate that too."

Helena did her best to hold back tears as she put a wing over Lucian's back and held on for dear life.

It was hard for Draco to admit how good it felt just to be hugged by her mother. Things hadn't gone as badly as she'd feared, but it hadn't exactly gone perfect, either.

"'You're not my heir, then?' Why'd he have to say it like that?" Draco asked. "As if I don't have enough to worry about."

"Shh. He's going through a lot, too. Certain… events, have changed things." Narcissa's eyes bored through the walls to her husband's arm where she knew his master's dark mark had twisted and changed. "That's why we're going sooner rather than later. The other families are waiting some things out—we don't plan to. When we're on the other side and facing all this together we'll all sit down and have a long talk about these changes."

"There's one more thing." Draco couldn't keep a smile off her lips as she ruffled her wings under the cloak and, carefully, extended each out a little to the sides. "My broom's still back at Hogwarts, but I'm learning to fly without it."

"Well, we can head there and fetch your broom before finding somewhere more suitable to live. Please, Draco, bring only the things you need most. We will be traveling light." To say she was distracted would be an understatement, and Narcissa hated that. Her thoughts were busy tracking how many of their servants, heirlooms, and galleons they could bring with them. She could have trusted it to her husband, but what she'd discovered was that while her husband could plan intricate schemes with meticulous detail, if a time limit was involved or he was under other pressure, it would all go awry quickly.

"Mum, I—" A sound cut through the hallway outside and the wall. The manor house was warded against incoming apparations, but outgoing were not blocked. "What was that?" Draco jumped off the bed and toward the door. Using a wing to operate the handle, she poked her head outside to see an empty hall.

"I gather your friends had business of their own. I don't begrudge them an early warning to move swiftly—in fact I consider it payment for their efforts to get you here. Come, Draco, we have planning to do."

"We're goin'? But what about the farm?" Ronald Weasley watched as his father, looking much put-upon, pulled out something from his robe. "What's that, da?"

"You know I'm loyal to the Ministry, Ron, but sometimes you hear something that makes you feel a lot more loyal to your family. And I'll make myself clear, my loyalty to my family comes first." Arthur Weasley was a tall man, but he was skinny as a rake. At just shy of six feet tall, his robes hang around him without showing off any of the wiry strength his forefathers had been known for. He could—and was—hiding just about anything in his enchanted robes. "Find ya mum, Ron. Make sure she has everyone clear of the farm out to the edge of the first field."

About to open his mouth and ask why, Ron realized his father had a serious edge to his tone that only showed up, usually, when he was on the job. "Yes, Dad." Galloping up the driveway to the house, Ron's hooves struck up sparks on the rocks he hit as his crystal body shattered and ground them into dust. "Mum! Mum!"

"What're you yelling about, Ronald Weasley? Oh! Is your father ready?" Molly Weasley realized his haste meant only one thing. "Alright. Everybody! We're going now. Grab only what you need for the drive!"

It was as if someone had hit the wall of a particularly mouse-infested house with a broom. Red-haired faces popped out of every corner and, a suitcase each, came running down the stairs. Bill was shoved aside by Fred and George as the two made a race of getting to the bottom first.

"Mum, what's going on?" Ron asked.

"We're moving. Your da put in his letter of resignation this morning, and it was refused, but he was granted permission for an extended holiday. If you ask me it's a load of codswallop. The magic's fading, Ron. The magic of this old place would fade as surely as ours would, and I'm too old to learn a new way o' living. Grab your case and follow us."

"Here you go, Ron. We packed it for you!" George twisted and bucked a suitcase toward Ron, who deftly caught it with his face. "Not that we need too much, but it's good that Mum made us something to hide all our tricks."

But there was something Ron couldn't fathom. "What about Charlie?"

"Your brother is a smart lad. He'll work out how to find us if he wants to come. Knowin' him, he'll want to stay with 'is dragons." As she spoke, Molly turned her back on her children. Ostensibly she'd turned to lead the way to the door, but in fact it was to hide her tears.

Bill walked out of the house just behind his mum and let out a sigh. "When he gets your letter, he'll come." It was hard for him to give his own mother words of confidence, and he surely couldn't turn to look at her for fear he'd see the tears in her eyes. "You know Charlie, he's a smart lad."

The sound of three sets of hooves striking the stones behind her made Molly let out a gasp of relief. Her boys were the same boys they'd always been, they were just twice as strong now and had the leg-count to prove it. Lifting her sleeve up, she used the ever-present handkerchief she kept there to blot her eyes. "Come on. Who has Ginny?"

"I've got 'er, Mum." Bill held out the book he'd kept close to him all morning for fear of misplacing it. Her, he had to remind himself. "You're alright, right, Ginny?" Opening the book in his soft hands, Bill revealed ink scrawling itself across the surface of a page.

I'm alright. What's going on?

"We're packing up and moving," Molly said when she noticed the words on the page. Crossing the field, she could see her husband ahead. "Your da has a special something perfect for the occasion."

I can't see, only hear. Where are you and what exactly is happening?

"Dad got something that lets us…" Bill wasn't going to cry. Brave Scottish wizards didn't cry. "It lets us take the farm with us."

That's amazing!

Clamping down on his emotions, Bill's mouth was squeezed into a tight line. "Yeah. I'll miss the Devon, though."

"What?" Ron looked up at his big brother. "You spend most of ya time in the city!"

"Lay off him, Ron. Bill likes getting his crevasse dirty now an' again." George used his hoof to flick a little turf at Bill.

Bill's wand was out and he deflected the incoming dirt with a flick of it. "It's a cravat!" He sent a weak Stupefy spell at his annoying younger brother.

Ron pulled out his wand almost as quick as Bill had and deflected the Stupefy—at least he tried to. His counter, Rennervate, missed the blast but connected with George a moment after the stun hit him.

Shaking his head, George looked between his two brothers. "Normally, Ron, people use that to counter a Stupefy."

Fred, who'd watched the spellcasting play out with a stunned expression, broke into laughter and nudged George into walking again.

"I—I meant to counter it." Ron looked between George and Bill. "Really."

"You're in second year now, right Ron?" Bill asked.

Looking up at his brother, Ron continued to talk around his wand that was still in his mouth. "Yeah. Just finished it. Kinda. Why?"

"You should have learned about countering properly by now. I know you got the spell right, but you need to work on your aim."

Ron stared at his older brother for a few seconds. "Yeah, about that. You try aiming a wand you're holding in your mouth while pronouncing the spell and gesturing properly."

"I guess I'll find out, won't I?" The idea of turning into a little horse didn't hold any actual fear for Bill, but he wondered how different it would be from the time his little sister accidentally turned him into a zebra. "Anyway, do you want to practice?"

As they walked after their mother, Bill and Ron slung spells off to the side. Ron missed a few, but as they walked his accuracy got better and better.

Arthur let out a sigh when Ron and Bill finally reached him. He'd pondered shouting for them to hurry, but seeing them practicing magic together filled his heart with happiness. "Alright, now you're all here…"

Ron looked up at his dad as Arthur Weasley held out what looked like an empty snow globe. "What's that for?"

"This is something I found a witch using to haul around her home as she traveled. It took me weeks to work out what it did, but now…" Holding the globe a little higher, Arthur lifted his wand to it and let his magic flood into the artifact. "… now I have the hang of it." As he lifted his wand away from the globe, an arc of magic fire spat and fizzed between them like a Jacob's ladder. When he aimed his wand at the farmhouse, Arthur quickly chanted out the dimensions he needed stored and—

It was the kind of sound you'd hear if a thousand giants all stuck their thumbs in their mouths and made a pop sound at the same time. It echoed around the empty Devon countryside—and the land was indeed empty. For given values of empty. The farmhouse, its crops, and everything that had been where The Burrow had existed was gone. In its place was what seemed like a wheat field, but the strange thing was that where the property had been was a huge circle pressed into the wheat.

Arthur held up the snow globe to reveal their home and farmland was all contained inside it now. "A clever witch she was, and she had a great sense of humor."

"Arthur! Arthur Weasley!" Amos Diggory, a smartly dressed wizard with an open robe around his shoulders, walked along the path toward the Weasleys with his wife Petunia at his side and their son, Cedric, walking just beside his wife. His son, Cedric Diggory, was walking on two equine hooves, though he lacked hands. "You're coming too then?"

Walking up to their neighbors, Arthur reached out to shake hands with his friend—each clasping the wrist of the other. "Of course I am, Amos. Two of my boys are like this now, and what with magic going away I don't even know if they could survive without it, and don't try to deny that rumor."

"Wouldn't dream of it, and had the same thought. Don't know what I'd do if anything happened to my boy here. He's going to have enough trouble staying on a broom now." Amos stepped aside and gave Cedric a punch in the shoulder—something that hurt his fist more than Cedric's body.

"I dunno, Dad, if I could play a single game of quidditch without those two trying to beat my face in with a bludger I'd be okay with staying." Nodding to Fred and George, Cedric had a big grin on his face. "I say trying, o' course."

Looking between the Weasley boys, Amos fixed his eyes on the only one standing upright. "Is this little William? Lad, you've grown. Working for… Gringotts, right?"

"Curse-breaking, sir. Been working in Egypt mostly, some fools decided it would be a great idea to fill pyramids with magical traps—as if some of the regular ones weren't a problem. Then you have…" Bill trailed off as he realized he was getting too far into work stuff. "Anyway, Mum and Dad sent me an owl, told me what was happening. Family is always first."

"Smart lad. And where's little Charles? Not here with you? Last I heard he was doing questionable things in support of dragons." Being part of the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Amos was familiar with the second oldest Weasley—the whole department was. "Of course, you didn't hear me say that last bit." Though no one in the Ministry ever did anything if they found out about him. As far as they were concerned, Charles Weasley was on vacation in parts unknown—especially if he turned up somewhere smelling of dragon.

Arthur almost froze and his expression definitely soured a little. "We haven't been able to contact him. No owl can work out which way to go, and his associates haven't seen him since his latest vacation started."

"Well, there has been more of these portals or rifts opening up. Perhaps he's already investigating while on vacation." Amos gave Arthur a wink. "Clever lad, I know he'll figure something out. I'd suggest sending an owl when we get across."

"There, see, Arthur, I told you there was something we were missing. We just have to find somebody with an owl." Molly Weasley was of the opinion that her missing son was sure to be safe, though she did worry where he might be safe.

"Of course, dear. I can't see there being much use for owls at first, but as everyone spreads out they will definitely need them more." Arthur turned his attention back to Amos. "You have a way to get to Hogwarts?"

Barking a laugh, Amos nodded. "Normally it would be quite impossible to reach the school via most methods, though Floo would have been accessible. Now there are no wards to stop, say, a very old Portkey that's linked directly to the site from working." From out of his coat Amos drew an ancient-looking tartan kilt. "Would you perhaps enjoy a quick ride there?"

"So nice of you to ask, Amos." Gesturing her sons close, Molly reached out a hand toward the tartan.

Hands and mouths reached forward to take a firm grip, and once Amos Diggory was sure they all had a firm hold, he activated the Portkey.

The ride was mercifully short. Though the tartan was far stronger than it had any right to be (thanks to magic), it still felt fragile to each of the nine people holding on, but when they spun into a landing just outside what used to be the grounds of Hogwarts, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"Who's that? Reveal yourselves!"

"Amos Diggory, my family, Arthur Weasley, and his family. We just arrived via Portkey and would like to speak to whomever is in charge, please?" Amos stepped forward into the light that grew from the sentry's wand.

"M-Mr. Diggory! Mr. Weasley! Right this way, sirs!" Climbing the ladder in the Ministry meant knowing who was who. You didn't get very far if you insulted someone who was the boss of your boss, or who was good friends with them.

"Richard, it's good to see you." Amos walked over to one of his compatriots at the Ministry and shook his hand warmly. "They haven't got you in charge here, surely?"

Shaking his head, Richard Fellows let out a sigh. "I sent for a replacement. This is the wrong assignment for me. They—you'll forgive me, ponies—are not creatures at all but beings. I had hoped you were my replacement, but you wouldn't have brought your lovely wife. How are you doing, Petunia my dear?"

Petunia Diggory had been keeping to herself during the journey so far, but being addressed directly meant she had a duty to rise to the conversation. "I'm doing fine, Richard, but I had hoped all this"—Petunia swept her hand to indicate all the tents and Ministry wizards and witches around—"was just for show. We are allowed to go through, correct?"

Stopped dead in his tracks, Richard reached into his robes and drew out his pipe. Just handling the old wood comforted and balanced him. "Absolutely not, my dear. I'm sorry, but without—" That's when he saw Arthur Weasley and his family. "Drat."

"Now now, Richard, no need for cuss words." Amos stepped aside to allow Arthur to approach and talk with Richard too. "We might not be your relief, but I believe Arthur is the most senior member of the Ministry here."

"Hello, Richard. Keeping well?" Arthur asked.

"Hello, Arthur. Can I assume you wish to go through to the other side as well?"

"Absolutely. Here I was worried that the Ministry's refusal to allow me to retire would be a problem. It looks like it has been the opposite. Please make way, Richard." Arthur wasn't one to use his pull at the Ministry except in the most dire of times. Now was one such.

"You know they'll all want to go, then. If I allow you lot through, I'll have a magic riot on my hands here." As he spoke, Richard packed his pipe with a fresh charge of tobacco and gestured with it to one side of the Ministry encampment. There were dozens of wizards and witches gathered, families and in ones and twos, and they were all watching Richard talk to Arthur Weasley and Amos Diggory.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Why not let them, Richard? They're grown adults. I wasn't aware the Ministry had policies against overseas travel."

Flicking his finger to create a flame, Richard lit his pipe and took a few calming puffs. "You know that's stretching the truth of the matter. This is an alien world, Arthur, Amos, not France. We have no clue what their culture and true policy is toward us. All we have is their word. While some have resisted our—"

"Mr. Weasley!" Hermione Granger, her parents smiling and following along beside her, rushed over to where Arthur and Richard were having a battle of wills. "Mr. Weasley! They said we can't go back. I don't want to be stuck here. I demand we be allowed to go back to Hogwarts so I may finish my schooling!"

Looking from Hermione to her parents, Arthur smiled. "This is Mr. Fellows. He's in charge of things here. Perhaps you'd like to ask him nicely if you can go back to Hogwarts, Hermione?"

Richard looked from the unicorn-girl to her smiling parents. "These mug—"

"Richard, careful of your words, my friend. They are Hermione's parents and are aware of wizardkind. There's no need to be rude." Arthur could well remember how upset young Miss Granger had been when he'd used the word muggle around her when they'd first met.

"Right. Of course. Well, if your parents agree, you may return to discuss schooling with—"

"Excuse me, Mr. Fellows, was it?" David Granger still had a little trouble getting used to wizards, though he was now very familiar with other creatures of the wizarding world. He'd discovered goblins quite liked having gold fillings added to their teeth and would pay handsomely for even minor dental work. "I was wondering when we could go through? Together. We've decided that—what with magic fading here—our daughter would be best served if she could continue to learn in a more appropriate environment. We—We brought our passports."

"I—" Richard Fellows had found himself caught in a tough situation, but dealing with tough situations was what wizards excelled at. "I will begin a process for the recording and expatriation of individuals and families. It will be orderly—we're British."

"Good show, Richard. Good show." Arthur patted his compatriot on the shoulder.

Author's Notes:

Did Rake see Charlie as a snack?

"No! It's not that." Rake tried to walk away, but the writer curved space too much and she just walked in from the other side again. "I hate this crap. Okay, he looks like my hoard. Every time I look at him I can't stop thinking like he's MINE with the loudest voice in my stupid dragon head. Is that what you wanted to hear? He's the biggest gemstone I've ever seen, and I want to fight every other dragon to own him. I'm not a touchy-feely pony or nothing, but that just feels—it feels wrong."

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"It feels important somehow." Despite the order that I was to gather the things I needed to go back to Earth, I wanted to take care of something. "That I don't make her do things, I mean."

'I liked doing things for you.'

That's different. I like giving you the choice. Wizards… Wizards have a bad history of not giving anyone a choice about anything. That's why it's so important.

Reaching my hoof up, I tickled Hedwig under the chin where I knew she liked it.

"I can't find any dark magics involved here, Harry." Dumbledore had been working magic on one, the other, or both of us for nearly half an hour. Some of it I could follow, but some of the spells he used were so advanced I couldn't even remember half their syllables. "But it was right that you come to make sure. Controlling the mind of another is a delicate thing. Memory charms…"

He seemed to trail off in thought. His eyes focused somewhere behind me and I had the sense that Dumbledore wasn't talking to me anymore.

"I would not willingly alter another's mind, you understand, but to protect something so precious…" He closed his eyes and I could see tears forming there. "There is mind magic here, there is no doubt about it. It could proceed either way—one or the other taking control—but I believe in you, Harry. Now show me the other thing."

"How she shows me things?" I asked.

'Oh! Can I show you that rat I caught?'

"Precisely. You said she can understand others?" Dumbledore waited for me to nod. "Well then"—he turned to Hedwig—"if you wouldn't mind showing Harry something so I can make sure this isn't hurting either of you."

'I really like him. He's nice.'

I was about to reply when I was rushed a thousand feet into the sky. Hedwig had pushed her memories into me and I was living them. It was so relaxing to fly with her, but a moment came when our joined senses picked something up.

My eyes were so much sharper like this, thousands of times better than a normal human's. The telltale movement of grass, I knew from Hedwig's thoughts, was a sure sign that something small and tasty was there.

Our wings were silent, though it took some work to keep them that way. Hedwig was constantly adjusting tiny feathers to ensure the rat wouldn't hear us coming. The closer we got to the ground, the more our focus narrowed on the rat.

Completely caught up in the moment, I felt my heart racing as we stooped and at the last second stretched out our razor-sharp claws and grabbed the rat up. The feel of bones breaking and—

'You don't need to see this bit.'

Huh? What? But we were. My brain took the time to flash the last bit of the memory up for me to see—and I almost lost my breakfast. "Ugh. Okay, thank you, Hedwig."

The sound of sipping tea drew my attention back to Dumbledore. "Ah. You're back with us. I have good news, Harry Potter, and bad news."

"Excuse me a moment, Headm—Professor." I was on my hooves and at a dead gallop for the nearest bathroom. Hooves flashing, I wondered for a short moment if I could somehow teleport into the bathroom—though that was impossible.

'Sorry.'

"Aww, did someone have too much to eat at breakfast?" The voice cut through my little porcelain pity party like a rusty knife through soft cheese. Moaning Myrtle sounded just as annoyed with the world as she always had. "Oh boo-hoo. I can't even remember what it feels like to—"

"Myrtle, I just felt what it was like to rip apart and eat a rat." As the words came out of my mouth, my mind helpfully played back the memory.

A chill passed into my back as I leaned over the bowl.

"There, there." Myrtle's voice had lost some of its whine and she sounded like she was trying to actually comfort me. It was terrifying. "I remember—when I was still alive—they would pick on me by slipping things into my food."

After getting rid of everything that was in me, I reached a hoof up and jerked down on the flush. Despite how strange it was to have a depressed and depressing ghost comforting me, it actually worked. I opened my mouth to thank her when—

"Would you like to see?" Myrtle asked.

An ominous rumbling started in the drains and pipes, not the least of which was coming from the toilet I'd just flushed. Snapping my mouth closed, I backed up quickly and ran for the faucets on the other side of the room. "Myrtle! Stop it! I don't need to see—whatever it is that's in there!"

All the rumbling stopped and Myrtle, standing in the doorway of the cubicle I'd just left, crossed her arms over her chest. "Spoilsport."

I had to give her credit, she always managed to get on my nerves with so little effort. "How are the others?"

Myrtle gasped. "Y-You asked? No one has asked about them."

Rinsing my mouth out with water, I spat it into the bowl. "Well?"

"They're all gone. Faded away to nothing. Even the house-ghosts." A sniff, a gasp, and I heard Myrtle cry.

The rumbling came again, though there seemed less malice behind it. Water started pooling in the room, and despite my best mental self-advice I walked over to Myrtle. "You still have the school."

Lowering her hands from her face, Myrtle looked—for just a second—far older than normal. "I am inconsolable!"

"You can touch me?"

"What?"

"I mean, you can feel me, right? Your hand didn't pass through me before." I pointed with a hoof to the overflowing toilet I'd come from. Thankfully it was clean water flowing up.

"Yes. Why?" Her tone was full of accusation and disdain.

I rolled my eyes and dipped my head forward—then bumped the top of my head toward her. Her touch was chilly again, but this time I felt fingers brushing through the hair on the top of my head. The cold moved to my right ear and started rubbing it.

Her touch was almost cold enough to be painful, but though I couldn't see her face, I could see the toilets had stopped overflowing. "I'm so alone, Harry. Even the students are mostly gone."

What could I say? If I told her I'd be leaving in a day, she might just make the whole room explode in a fountain. Instead, I just stood there. Here I thought I was coming back to help Ron and Hermione, but it turns out it's Myrtle that needed me.

"Are they coming back?" she asked.

Her hand paused a moment, so I butted my head up into it and she started petting me again. "I don't know, Myrtle. Everything's changing up so much. There's some students still hanging around, but—"

"They're all too busy for poor Moaning Myrtle. Everyone's too—But you're not, are you?" Her hand left my head and Myrtle crouched down on the floor before me. She looked into my eyes, and though I could still see through her, she seemed far more solid than I'd ever seen her before.

Well damn. "I'm going to be moving in here, or somewhere near here. I need to grab a few things from back on Earth, but then I'll be coming home." As I spoke I watched her interest turn to worry, shock, and then excitement.

"Home?" Her lips quirked into a smile and her hand reached out to ruffle my ears—she didn't feel so cold now. "You had better come back, Harry, or I'll be cross."

Was it strange to promise a ghost that was petting you like a cat that you'd come back so they don't destroy an entire school's maintenance budget in one event? I was sure it would normally be strange, but I was a wizard, and wizards did whatever was needed in whatever way worked to make things right. "I've still got too much to learn. And, besides, I like it here."

"Harry?" Dumbledore opened the bathroom door just a crack. "Are you alright?"

Lifting a hoof to my lips to beg Myrtle to be quiet, I turned my head while trying to ignore the ongoing chill. "Just cleaning up, sir. Hedwig's memories are really intense."

I reached my hoof out toward the taps, and Myrtle gestured to them—causing one to turn on.

"I'll be right out in a moment," I said.

"Take as long as you need, Harry." The door closed again and I let out a sigh of relief.

Myrtle Elizabeth Warren—or at least her ghost—let out a breathless (in the literal sense) sigh as Harry Potter trotted from the bathroom. Her translucent hand tingled with warmth and feeling at what he'd let her do.

Taking a deep breath of nothing, Myrtle spun in a circle as taps and toilets unloaded fountains of water into the air. She kicked her feet and giggled before coming back to land on one of the flooded toilets. "He likes me…"

But the moment of warmth was a rare one. He was gone for no more than five minutes before the weight of being the only ghost in Hogwarts slumped down upon her again. Only one ghost.

She had theories on why the others had faded and she hadn't. The castle was in a different world now, and the patterns that made up a ghost seemed easily overwhelmed by the magic of the new land. Combined with that seemed to be that Myrtle had been made by some powerful magic that, she felt, was purposed with keeping her a ghost.

"This is terrible." The room echoed the sentiment back to her, but there was now some bright little ember of happiness burning inside her. "But he's so wonderful."

That happiness needed to wait, however. Myrtle had some more crying to do.

Ginevra Molly Weasley wasn't getting annoyed, she was simply being challenged to a level that had her struggling to keep up. The dementors inside Azkaban were doing their duty and clawing at the walls to get out, but something—or someone—kept reinforcing them.

"I will try again." The words were hard for Igor's mouth to form thanks to the significant amount of fangs he'd acquired. The stone under his talons burned his feet still, but that was nothing compared to how much it hurt him to see Ginevra upset.

"No. This is a matter of time. We are tireless, they are not. They pour their magic into these walls to protect the monsters they have hidden within. Do they not know I am here to relieve them of their duty?" Ginevra started floating along just above the surface of Azkaban's roof. Once again she examined the hatch there.

"Your instincts are true, Ginevra. We have the advantage of time here." Sombra hated the feel of the runes under his hooves, but it was a small distraction. "We need to focus on our next phase. We need to return to Equestria."

Spinning in place, Ginevra looked at Sombra. "Return? But why? We have all the power here."

"I have what I need—when we crack this chestnut. The magic in this world is dying. Even my power could not sustain us should we remain here. Your pets would fade first, then I would die, and finally you would unravel and disappear." Sombra's voice trailed off into softness. "No. I will not stand to have all my plans undone. We will return, we will free all those ponies and all those wizards from the tyrannical grip of their princesses."

Ginevra recoiled from the way Sombra spat the word out. She looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"A group of creatures that believe themselves better than regular ponies." Shaking with fury, Sombra stomped an iron-shod hoof against the flagstones under him. Cracks appeared for a moment, then faded. "The most terrible part is they are. These alicorns are superior to regular ponies in every way. Look at how powerful I have become, Ginevra, and still I am not enough to fight them head-on."

"Together we could—"

Sombra's spirit soared at how quick she threw her support behind him. "Together we can do much more, yes, but we cannot be overt about it. I learned, long ago, not to play with fire until I have full control of it. When we return, we will fade quickly into the shadows to avoid their sight. From there we can undermine their power until they are weak enough for us to fight together."

New pride and fire burned within Ginevra. She could see it in her mind's eye—the two of them being the heroes of all the ponies. "Together we will fight and together we will win." Leaning down almost casually, she lengthened her fingers out into blade-like claws and slashed at the magic of the stonework while blazing black energy poured down her arm and into the resilient spells defending it.

Lending only a limited amount of magic to Ginevra, Sombra felt pride in his new apprentice. Pride and excitement. Soon they would be home again, and this time it wouldn't be him alone versus the world. "Yesss!"

The motorbike was nobody's fool. It took one peek at Azkaban and the attack going on and thought better of landing there. Circling at a good distance, it wondered how it was going to get in when it saw some dark shape rip a hole through the side of the prison.

While it didn't like the look of the wraith-like creatures that were pouring out of the hole, the motorbike didn't like the look of a lot of things, and its master had taught it well what to do about them.

Gunning its engine, the bike charged at the hole with its headlight off.

The dementors reached toward the flying motorbike just before it reached them and tried to drain its soul. Sadly (for the dementors at least) the object had no soul and revved its engine just a little more.

Shrieking dementors fled the path of the howling machine, though two had the distinct displeasure of having it slam through them.

Knowing where its master was by the feel of him, the bike threw itself—with a screeching back tire on the cold, wet stone—at the stairs that led down. It was perfectly fine with ignoring the sights around it as dementors ripped jail cells apart and pulled prisoners out toward other holes in the walls. It didn't care about their screams.

"That sounds like a muggle machine." Alastor Moody turned away from Rubeus Hagrid, Sirius Black, and Toil, to look at the stairs that led to the roof. This gave him just enough warning to dive aside as a motorbike came sliding around the curved stairwell and charging at their group.

Just before the bike hit him, Sirius reached out one hand and closed it gently around the handlebar—twisting the throttle twice. "You came for me!" Tears welled in his eyes as he crouched down and rested his forehead against the front mudguard. "How are you feeling? Ready to go?"

Rubeus was first to regain his composure, particularly since he'd dealt with the bike before. "Here then. How're we all going to fit on there?"

"Hagrid! You have the wand, you get to work it out. You're a wizard, after all." Standing up, Sirius stepped to the side of his bike and swung his leg over the seat. "Don't worry, girl, we'll get out of this. I even have a ride planned and ready. You just have to get us all there."

"I was never good at this one, but…" Rubeus focused his attention on himself and held his umbrella up with the tip pointed at him. "Mr. Moody, sir, can you give me a 'and with this?"

"What exactly are—Stop pointing that at yourself. What are you trying to do?" Using a hand to brush aside Rubeus' wand, Alastor glared at him. "Not transfiguration, I hope."

"Well 'ow else am I meant to fit on that?"

"You cannot change your size and mass with transfiguration unless you know a lot more about it than you or I. There is a simpler spell." Flexing his fingers, Alastor drew his wand smoothly and pointed it at Rubeus. "I always find cutting people in half makes bringing them down a peg or two much easier. This is a Shrinking charm. You either want to be very good at it or use a lot of magic if you don't want random explosions."

"Oh he—" Rubeus didn't get any further. A purple light flared from Alastor's wand and jumped at him like a pouncing cat. The first thing Rubeus' brain thought was that the world was shrinking, but that wasn't nearly right. Secondly, he latched onto the idea that the world was actually growing. This seemed to at least match what he was seeing.

Toil's grin got wider and wider as he watched Rubeus shrink down to a size a little smaller than he was himself. "Ha-ha! What's a little giant called?"

Sirius revved the bike's engine and felt its eagerness under him. "It's called, get in the sidecar, Toil, or I'll leave you behind."

"I thought I'd take the sidecar." No sooner did Alastor state his intent, however, than Toil had grabbed Rubeus and apparated into the sidecar. "If you think you two will stop me, you've got another thing coming. Make room."

"Hold on, and if you have any desire to live through this, maybe now would be a great time to manifest your first Patronus." Sirius kicked the bike into gear and twisted the throttle.

The motorbike didn't care for the load of extra passengers, but having Sirius riding it again filled it with joy and purpose. It had waited and been ready, and now they were reunited. Squirting flame out of its exhausts, it spun its back wheel on the flagstones and let its rider guide it to the stairs.

Four floors later and Sirius could see the hole the motorbike had entered through. He could also see the dementors were dragging prisoners out. The closest was, of course, Bellatrix Lestrange. "I can't believe I'm going to say this. Grab her when we get close."

Alastor looked up at Sirius as if he were mad, but then something clicked, and he realized that whatever the dementors wanted with any of the prisoners, it was his job to stop them from getting it. "Right." Gripping his wand firmly in his right hand, he leaned a little so he could reach out of the sidecar.

The roaring sound of the motorbike broke Bellatrix from her stupor. She felt the icy-grip of the dementor's hand around her wrist and felt too the pain in her head. Eyes narrowing on the roaring machine charging toward her, she shivered with excitement and hope. "You have to get me out of here!"

Unfortunately for Bellatrix, the dementor smelled the hope she gave off and turned its cowled head to look back at the wizards charging toward it. Tightening its grip on Bellatrix's wrist, the dementor braced itself to deal with the oncoming attackers.

"Expecto Patronum!" Three voices chanted the words, but only one of them managed anything credible.

Alastor Moody knew far too much of how the world worked to get more than a soft blue glow from his wand.

Rubeus Hagrid hadn't let Azkaban get too far under his skin, but recent news of Hogwarts vanishing had crushed his hope so far he couldn't even get a spark from his little umbrella.

Toil, mad as a hatter and pointing his hand like a gun toward the dementor, saw freedom through the monster's body and in that freedom was hope. Hope he would be a free house-elf. Hope he wouldn't have to wear chains again. Hope that no one would kill anyone he cared for. It required true craziness to believe these things, but that was a quality Toil had in spades.

The blob of blue light that left Toil's finger looked malformed at first, but as it flew toward the dementor, it became more and more distinct as a jellyfish. It soared almost serenely—compared to the roaring motorbike—until it got close to the dementor. Extending its aural arms toward the icy monster and started gently wrapping them around its limbs and its head.

Bellatrix was spellbound by the beauty of the patronus, but the terrified scream of the dementor as it released her was pure music to her ears. "Yes! Kill it! Burn that black, soddin' bas—" The roar of the engine and an arm like a vice grabbing her stole Bellatrix's voice as she was jerked into motion, but she was too fascinated watching the patronus become more and more tangled around the dementor to notice.

Gunning the bike, Sirius charged for the hole and blew out of it like a cork from a wine bottle. The salty air of the sea was far stronger outside, though Sirius promised himself that once this was over, he'd never go near the sea again.

"Where are you going, Bellatrix Lestrange? You gave yourself to Voldemort, now I hold your reins!"

The voice ripped through Bellatrix's head and ripped a scream from her throat. "Get her out! Get her out! Get her out!"

"Stop squirming yo—" Alastor froze at the sight behind them. The most distinct and fleshed out dementor he'd ever seen—Ginevra Weasley—was riding on the back of a huge dragon and closing on them. "Sirius! Faster!"

Rubeus, too, saw what was chasing them. The dragon was like nothing he'd seen and the monster riding it, though cloaked in shadows, was nothing he wanted to deal with. "You got another o' them jellied fishes?" When he looked at Toil, however, the house-elf looked terrified.

"Give her to me!" Ginevra screamed aloud. She pressed an icy hand to Igor's shoulder and poured dark magic into him.

By all rights an adult dragon could resist any magic, but Igor welcomed his mistress' magic and let it soak into him. Opening his maw, Igor screamed in rage and breathed out on pure instinct.

A grave-chill filled the sea air and, from one moment to the next, all the moisture in it turned instantly to ice and hung there a moment. Reaching outward toward the fleeing motorcycle, Igor's breath sought out the living and found one.

"D-Don't let her take me! Please!" Bellatrix's voice cracked and broke at the stress of begging for her life in earnest. She looked into Alastor Moody's one good eye and saw pity there. A chill filled her left leg a moment before all feeling in it fled. Something grabbed the frozen limb and yanked backward with all the strength of a dragon.

"Good! Well done, Igor!" Ginevra patted the black palm print on Igor's shoulder and looked at the black lines—like lightning patterned on his scales—that radiated out from it. No longer a fire-loving beast, he felt almost like kin to her. "Bring her back. I must complete our vanguard!"

Jerking back with his head, Igor yanked the frozen form of Bellatrix toward him and caught her in his mouth. He dipped one wing low and brought the other up to wheel around and carry his prize back to Azkaban.

Magic society in Australia was far different—structurally—than in the United Kingdom. Wizards and witches worked with a far less strict level of secrecy from regular humans, and while they didn't panic over one little spell revealed, they also didn't go crazy casting magic in plain sight.

However, official police wizards like Jack Crowley and Liz Harrington were far from without leverage when it came to an immediate call for help. The moment Jack was back through the portal, he pulled the old battered handset from his pocket and tapped with his wand.

The response wasn't immediate. Word of what Jack had seen and who was with him filtered up through his chain of command, but within just an hour of sneaking back to Earth, four wizards and two witches apparated into existence at the street corner. "Jack Crowley? Liz Harrington?"

Jack spun around and let out a sigh at the sight of the robed and armed wizards. "You lot have no idea how relieved I am to see ya. We were up to our necks in a mess we couldn't do anything about. Mind—"

The rift took that moment to pulse again. A wave of hot air rushed out into the chilly Australian day, but a moment after that it sucked once again. Six wizard special police, two regular wizards, and one Abyssinian were dragged back into it.

"Who goes there?! That's one!"

Aileek looked up from where she'd landed to see one of the Storm Guard standing in the doorway of her hiding place. Her eyes widened as a huge hand reached in toward her.

Just as the Storm Guard tried to grab at its quarry, a stinging pain hit it in the hand and made it jerk back.

"Understand that we're not going to let you take her by force. Take us to your superior so we can discuss matters." Blastback Davies was the squad commander. He had strict orders not to go into the rift, but of course there was a contingency (and a contingency for the contingency) if he was forced to.

Shaking its hand to stop the stinging sensation, the Storm Guard shrugged its shoulders. "Bring them." It literally didn't care how it happened, it was under orders to bring any stray Abyssinians to its commander.

"Come on, ladies and gents, we're going to find out what's at the bottom of all this." Blastback helped rouse and unstack his squad from the pile they'd found themselves in, helped Jack Crowley and Liz Harrington to stand, and at last looked at Aileek. "Ma'am, you're under our protection, but I have orders to make contact with an authority on this side to establish your authenticity. You understand?"

Anger welled up in Aileek. On her own she'd been far better off than with these strange new creatures. "They're burning our cities and stealing everything they can, and you expect me to—"

"Hey, Aileek." Liz reached out a hand to put it on Aileek's fuzzy forearm. "Would you rather heavily armed, amoral idiots who come in and start blasting based on one person's word, or would you rather heavily armed wizards who want to get their facts straight before blasting holes in people?"

Firelight McOwens, Blastback's second in command, snorted at the words. She brushed off her robes while checking her weapons—magical and mundane. "Couldn't have put it better myself."

Aileek steadied herself and looked around at the wizards, taking in the way they checked over a lot of equipment they'd been concealing under their robes only moments ago. She didn't recognize what most of the things were, but she knew these people treated them like weapons. "Please, just don't let them destroy my lands."

"Once we establish these are your lands"—Blastback gestured toward where the rift had been—"I have the authority to lend whatever aid I see fit while I attempt to find the shortest way back home." Something felt a little off to Blastback. He shook himself mentally and started for the doorway, not noticing the tail already having sprouted from his rear.

There was a half-circle of the Storm Guards around the doorway of the building Blastback stepped out of. He eyed each of them. They stood about half again as tall as he was, and bore huge shields and spears—both looking to be made from the same metal as their armor. "Hello, gents. I guess we should all introduce ourselves while we walk. Commander Blastback Davies, the lovely lady behind me is Firelight McOwens, the four chaps behind her are Defthands Flowers, Junebug Banning, Rentari Dean, and Daku. Along with Jack Crowley and Liz Harrington, we'll be escorting the lovely miss…"

"Aileek." Aileek was surprised how reassuring it was to have the soldiers (as she thought of them) surrounding her. They seemed more solid than the Storm Guards for some reason.

"… miss Aileek here. If we think you want to hurt us or her, I'm going to have the spicy Firelight here show her why her parents named her that. Now, let's be going nice and careful." Blastback hoped against hope he didn't have to fight the Storm Guards.

"Aileek. Anything we should know about these goons?" Firelight asked as discretely as she could. "If things turn bad, and I have a feeling they will, we need to know how to deal with them fast."

"Their shields, armor, and weapons are resistant to magic. They even reflect it sometimes. I saw your leader use a spell on that one's hand and that seemed to work." Her hands slid to her own knives, but Aileek didn't want to startle the Australian wizards. "If it comes to it, I can stand my grou—"

"Ma'am, not disparaging you or anything, but if this goes tits up, you stay in the middle where we can guard you. Our commander said you're our V.I.P., that lasts until he says otherwise. Don't draw your weapons under any circumstances," Firelight said, her voice gaining a harder edge for the last few words.

Biting back a reply, Aileek compressed her lips in displeasure at being spoken to in that way. But for one thing she would have started arguing—she'd asked them for help. When her temper calmed down, she was able to nod. "Alright."

"I know it's hard to do that, but you have to trust us." Firelight's hands ran down her oilskin robes, the heavy cloth hiding all her equipment from casual sight but not from her touch. When she was assured that all her equipment was where it should be, she looked around the rest of the squad. "Gear check?" After getting a round of positive replies, Firelight turned to Blastback. "Sir, we're ready for anything."

"Alright. Eyes open and let's move." Turning his attention to the big guards, Blastback Davies didn't let his own hands stray far from his robes.

The walk through the city was a dour one for all but the Storm Guards. Aileek was reminded again and again that her people were literally at war and had no allies. But the creatures walking with her were new, and they'd promised her safety.

House after house they passed reinforced one thing in Blastback's mind—these creatures with him weren't waging a war, they were oppressing a populace. Ransacked homes with their goods dragged out onto the street, and in one case a looting-in-progress sickened him, but still they marched on.

Ahead was the oddest thing the soldiers had ever seen. Dark and malevolent, the flying machine looked a cross between an ocean-going ship and a dirigible. Blastback's eyes narrowed and he looked over it to attempt to work out how to bring it down or operate it, as may be needed.

The Storm Guards took them almost to the shadow of the ship, and finally Blastback saw two differently attired—though still in the dark and edgy style—creatures. One looked somewhat like a larger version of the other Storm Guard, though at half again their height, that was more than intimidating enough to put his teeth on edge. The other was a feline creature like Aileek. "That someone you know?"

Aileek looked through the gap in the soldiers around her and spotted her cousin. "Eshe. He always had a thing for power, but wasn't born well enough to be given any naturally, and was too stupid to have any given to him for longer than it took him to misuse it."

"Right. Leave the talking to me. Don't say a word. Got it?"

It was hard for Aileek to swallow her pride further, but she nodded. "Okay."

"Lord Eshe! We have captured the rogue Aileek. These foreigners insisted on bringing her to you." The Storm Guard's voice was gravely and it drew to a stop once the Abyssinian it was addressing turned toward them.

Looking at the strange creatures, Eshe clenched his jaw at the sight of his cousin in the middle of them. "Thank you for picking up our trash for us. If you'll just pass her over, you'll be paid well." He couldn't actually remember hiring bounty hunters to track her, but the fact they were here was enough for him to be willing to fork over a little gold. Besides, it was just gold he was taking from the city.

"Of course, of course. But you know how it is with paperwork." Blastback reached a hand into his robe and snapped his fingers while focusing on what he wanted. A clipboard and papers appeared in his hand. "Now, if you'll just agree to taking care of her and that no harm will come to her—"

Eshe's fur spiked up under the dark uniform he wore and he stomped toward the creatures holding his cousin. "What? Who are you to give me terms like that? She is a prisoner of the Storm King, and as his representative here, I get to say what happens to her!"

Narrowing his eyes, Blastback looked down from Eshe's feline face, over the ill-fitting uniform he wore, all the way down to his foot-paws, then back up slowly to take in the whole ensemble. "Funny. Our contract is with the Storm King, and you don't look much like him. All you have to do is sign here, saying you won't kill her, and I can go get my next assignment. What you do with her after we're gone is your own business. Got it?"

It was exactly what Eshe thought, or so he told himself. These were mercenaries of the Storm King, and they had paperwork to fill out just as he had a country to subjugate and take over. "Of course! After you go all manner of things could happen to her. It wouldn't be your fault, not once I'd signed this little piece of paper for you."

"Can you believe she tried to tell us that she's a princess? Thirty-second in line to rule or something wild like that. A little troublemaker's what we'd call her back home." Blastback knew his papers wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny and wanted to make sure of Eshe's intentions before things got rough.

"She is, but not for much longer. She's been causing problems for—" Eshe reached a paw out to grab the clipboard when Blastback tilted something under his robe and pointed what looked—to Eshe—like a long metal stick with handles on it. "What's this?"

The Storm Guards, more used to strange weapons than Eshe, tensed and readied their spears. "It's a trick!"

"Whoa! Hold ya horses, mates." Blastback held the assault rifle's barrel firmly against Eshe's side, one hand ready to fire, the other grabbing the feline's arm. "There's been some kind of misunderstanding. You see, we just came for our ship."

Firelight and her squad knew how to follow their boss' lead. Half drew guns, half drew wands, and Firelight drew both. A pistol in one hand and a wand in the other, she turned her back slightly to be facing away from Aileek.

Eshe was trembling. He looked around the Storm Guards, but none seemed interested in saving him. "Y-Y-Your ship? That's not your ship, that's—"

"My ship. We'll just head up and send you back down when we're aboard. Got it?" Prodding Eshe with the barrel of his gun, Blastback nodded toward a nearby tower that seemed to reach up to the side of the ship. "That's how we get up, right?"

Not brave in the slightest, Eshe panicked, freaked out, and then fainted.

Seeing their leader fall, the Storm Guards charged for the little group of wizards. The loud, sharp snapping noise didn't stop them, though what caused it brought two to the ground quickly.

"Kurukadia! Mumba!" Junebug Banning gestured forward with her wand and summoned two huge lizards between the squad and the Storm Guard.

"June, you bloody genius. Come on, let's move. How long will your boys last there?" Firelight sheathed her wand and grabbed Aileek's arm as she started after Blastback. She watched as Daku and Defthands moved up on Blastback's flanks, raising their rifles to their shoulders.

"They'll last a good bit longer if Dak can throw something—" For a second Junebug was distracted by a flash of bright light from her wand hand. "Or some smoke."

"Got your smoke." Rentari reached into his robe and pulled out a pair of smoke grenades. He handed one to Junebug, then pulled the pin and tossed the other. Junebug passed him the same one back, and he pulled its pin and tossed it just wide of the first.

Aileek was almost too stunned by the show of force to move. If it hadn't been for Firelight grabbing her, she'd be in the middle of the smoke still. "W-Where are we—? The airship?"

"That's the commander's call. You know how to fly that thing?" Firelight kept one eye on Blastback and one scanning her flank. "Because we're about to need a crash-course in flying it, unless the crew is friendly."

"It—It's easy, really. They have a magic furnace that provides a steady flow of magic. It will keep the ship functioning, but you'll want someone driving it." Aileek hadn't flown a skyship for more than an hour with her brothers, but that seemed to be an hour more than her companions.

"Congratulations, Aileek, you're now our pilot. When we get up there, you're to get that thing moving as fast as you can away from here. If you need us to cut, blast, or do , you shout at us, got it?" Letting go of Aileek, Firelight lifted her pistol in both hands and fired at the Storm Guard that she'd seen coming up an alleyway. "Keep moving!"

The run to the tower was without further incident, not that the wizards and witches let their guards down for a second. Ascending the gantry to the top, they found the ship deserted.

"Aileek! Tell us what we need to do to get moving!" Firelight looked to her commander and got a nod from him. "Rentari, drop something down that tower that will make sure no one follows us."

Running to the helm, Aileek looked at the controls. A large lever beside the wheel had various speed indicators on it, while a second one had a locking handle. The wheel itself seemed easily worked out. "Okay, cut any ropes tying us down and hold onto something."

"Hold onto somefing!" Stanley Shunpike grabbed one of the straps hanging from the handrail and let his body go deliberately limp. His guests—their final fare on Earth—were seated when the bus lurched forward with an instant momentum that should have resulted in near infinite g-force.

Earnest Prang focused on shifting through the gears of the bus. He'd never gotten above seventh before he'd reached a destination, but with the sound of dragons on the air, he was swiftly moving the old bus' gearbox through eighth and into ninth in no time.

Having felt each of the bus' lurches as Earnest shifted gears, Stanley lurched toward the front of the bus like a drunk man, though his movements were perfect reactions to the Knight Bus' own adjustments to reality. "Hey, Ern, why we in such a 'urry?"

"Can't you hear that, Stan?" Ernest shuddered at the sound of the storm raging outside. "That's destiny, and if we're not every bit as fast as we can be"—Ernest shifted the bus into twelfth gear, which was the first gear of high range—"so 'ave our passengers hold on tight."

Biting his lip, Stanley knew what side of the bread his toast was buttered. Ernest was the driver, and that meant driving was not Stanley's job at all. "Right you are then, Ern. We're goin' off, then?"

"Yes, Stan. This is our last fare here. Hold on, we're going cross-country." As he spoke, Ernest hit a button that forced magic to produce a perfectly paved road ahead of the bus and then rip it up again behind it.

"Well, well, well. Take a butcher's at who our passengers are! Looks like three runaways from Azkaban 'n' someone what should be chasin' 'em! 'Ow's the old place?" It was only meant to be a joke. Stanley had spent more than enough time in Azkaban to know how it would destroy someone, and none of the four before him looked destroyed—except maybe the house-elf.

"Shut it, Turnpike!" Alastor Moody had had enough of Stanley's accusations. "And if you must know, Azkaban will be no more by morning." Turning to where Sirius Black sat, Alastor saw true excitement and softness in the hard man's expression. "Are ya okay, lad?"

Sirius looked at Alastor and for a moment felt the darkness of the prison hit him before his recent freedom shoved it aside again. "It almost seems like a nightmare. My time in that hole will never be repaid, but I can make up for it. I need to find Harry Potter—"

"'Arry Potter?" Stanley shook and swayed in place like a wet sheet in the wind. "What you mean? Oh, Ern said we're leavin'. If you ain't planned onna trip to another world, you'd best be shoving off sometime before we get there."

Author's Notes:

Narcissa: "What do you think of Draco's pony form? Do you hope for a pony form of your own upon crossing?

"It is at least functional. Some are saying that it is a permanent transfiguration, but I'm sure we can find someone to fix him. Could you believe I spent a day as a deer in my younger years? It's all part of growing up." Though she spoke directly, there was a look of worry in Narcissa's eyes—particularly when she said the word permanent.

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The Event

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"Yeah, I'm ready." I wasn't. This sucked to have to do, but I knew I had to do it. My suitcase only had my adjusted robe in it and nothing else. I only had it with me so I could fill it with stuff to bring back. "Are you?"

'Of course I am. I've been waiting for you.'

Grabbing the handle of my case with my spell, I stood up. "Hop on, then. I want to get this all over and done with so I can focus on working out how this magic works."

Hedwig barely stretched her wings before giving them a quick pump and hopping across to my back. Her familiar (by now) weight settled as she hooked her claws into my scales.

It was so quiet in the halls. There were a few older students here and there, but all they did was show how empty the place was.

"Harry?" When I looked around, I saw it was Percy talking. He walked over to me. "I heard you're going back to the UK. Can you get this letter to my mum?" He floated a letter out of his resewn robes to me.

"Of course I can. Well, Hedwig can. I'm not going to stay." I tilted my head back to indicate Hedwig, as if she wasn't almost as big as I was.

"You're going to stay here too? That's fan—" Percy cleared his throat, but I could see his face was locked in a smile. "I mean, that's nice. It'll be good to have another Gryffindor around."

Something was eating at me, though, something I needed an answer to. "Why'd you stay?"

"Because I finally got what Charlie meant. When I saw Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor, and realized they'd just stepped in the deep end by offering to take on any crystal ponies that wanted to come, I knew they'd need someone to help them understand what wizards need." He seemed much more talkative now and started walking with me. "I hope things will get sorted out between the Ministry and the Crystal Empire. It'd be nice to be able to go home and visit without having to worry if I can come back."

"Madam Hooch is going with me. She says she can make sure we get back through, but I'm still a little worried. Honestly? I'd rather have Addera with me. I know she can take care of getting us back through."

'And she gives good hugs.'

"Speaking of, she's just down there waiting for you." Percy looked over the railing and down, and when I copied him, I could see Madam Hooch waiting on the landing below. "Please, Harry, don't forget the letter."

'It means a lot to him, doesn't it?'

Yes. His family is… I don't know how to explain it, but they all love each other a lot. Him staying here means he has a really good reason to. "I won't, Percy. I better go before she gets angry."

"Ha. Madam Hooch only gets angry when you don't ride your broom right. Good luck, Harry." Percy turned and walked back toward the painting of the Fat Lady.

"You too, Percy." I trotted down the stairs a little faster now, trying to keep my movement from disturbing Hedwig too much.

'Thank you for that.'

You're welcome. At the bottom of the stairs Madam Hooch was waiting. She wore a large set of robes that flowed down and over her body, hiding almost everything from her neck back. It even hung low enough that I couldn't see her hooves. "Good morning, Madam Hooch."

"Have you eaten yet?" She looked at me, and I could swear she knew I hadn't. Well, I guess she had seen me come down from the upper stairs and not the dining hall. "Here, Harry, eat these." When Madam Hooch stretched her wing forward from under her robes, she held a pair of muffins out to me.

"Thanks. We're going now?" I asked.

"As soon as you've had a morning stomp. I don't want any accidents while we're there." She led the way down the stairs and through the crystal castle, then outside and into the warm morning.

It was hotter than the barmiest summer outside. When I looked up, I could see the multi-colored swirl of the Heart's magic making a dome over the city. "I could get angry about how warm it is."

"Really?"

"Okay, probably not. I mean, I could just get angry about the—" I stopped myself saying their name and used a spell to levitate my glasses off and passed them to Hooch. "Could you hold these a second?"

She didn't need to use a spell, what with her wings to hold things. Madam Hooch took my glasses and my case, giving me some room.

It wouldn't take much. I could just start with Dudley. Dudley Dursley's fist hitting me, his whiny voice demanding something I had be given to him, and even—

My anger boiled up within and started to overflow. My eyesight narrowed down to a point and focused perfectly. Dudley Dursley got anything he wanted—everything he wanted. Dudley Dursley was an idiot, a bully, and… I hated him more than even Draco Malfoy!

Madam Hooch's movement caused my vision to snap to her and I felt a little snarl boil up in my throat. But, she wasn't what I was angry at. I started stomping after her, leaving blackened hoofprints on the ground as I did.

Fire dripped off me, landing on the ground before fizzling out. I was angry and working it all out when a bunch of voices stopped me.

"Ha! There's 'Arry now! He looks angry at somethin'!" George Weasley said.

My anger evaporated as I watched George, Fred, Ron, and their older brother, Bill, walking along with their mother. The latter two, of course, were still human. And that's when my vision turned fuzzy again. "C-Can I have my glasses back now?"

Madam Hooch set them right on my face before she walked over to Mrs. Weasley. "Molly? What on Earth are you doing here?"

"That's Madam Hooch, Mum," Ron said.

"Thank you, dear." Mrs. Weasley looked from Ron to Hooch. "You know how it is—well, maybe you don't. When most of my boys are walking around on four legs and maybe needing magic to live, your choices narrow a little." She kept glancing behind her.

"What do you mean?" Madam Hooch asked.

"Magic. Don't tell me you don't—Well, of course you wouldn't. Over the last few days magic has been getting weaker and weaker. Rumors don't seem to be able to decide on why, but everyone knows there's magic here." Mrs. Weasley was now looking back in the direction of the portal.

Madam Hooch walked closer and reached out to Mrs. Weasley with a wing. "Arthur?"

"There was an officious type from the Ministry. Our Arthur had to bully him a little to let anyone through."

"I'll go have a word with him."

Mrs. Weasley looked down and over Madam Hooch. "Wings? They suit you. I just worry about—"

The conversations of everyone coming from the portal had stopped at the sound of an engine revving.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Only the bloody Knight Bus!" George stared at the huge, triple-decker bus hurtling down the hill toward us. "We might wanna get out of its way!"

I just stared at it. The thing was impossibly tall and moving way too fast to be safe, but it somehow managed to miss absolutely everything and everyone around it.

'It's also coming right at us.'

It took me a moment to realize what Hedwig said and what that meant to our survival. Never let it be said that I wasn't as good at getting out of impossible situations as I was getting into them. Diving to the side, I threw myself out of the path of the bus just as it stopped dead—what would have been an inch from where I'd been standing.

A strange looking man stepped off the back of the bus and looked around. "Cor. Ern! 'Ave a butcher's at all these 'orses! 'Scuse me, ma'am," he said to Mrs. Weasley, "where are we?"

"This is the Crystal Empire." Madam Hooch stepped up. "The question is, Mr. Shunpike, why are you here?"

"Why's I anywhere? We 'ad a fare. Well, a few of 'em. Come on, lads, this 'ere's yer stop." The man stepped to the side as people started departing the bus.

The first was strange. A wizard (probably a true wizard too), he had an artificial eye that seemed to be spinning around wildly in its socket while he walked with a limp. He blinked his good eye as if he'd just come from somewhere dark.

Behind him, practically shoving his way past the man—

"Hagrid!" I completely forgot everything I'd been doing as I rushed up to him. That's when I realized how much bigger he seemed now. "Hagrid! It's me!"

"Who?" Hagrid asked.

'Ha, ha. I've heard that one before.'

"Hagrid, it's me! Harry!" I reached a hoof up to bump my glasses, then turned my head a little toward Hedwig. "I changed a little…"

He looked at me for a few seconds, his big eyebrows furrowed, but then his face split into a huge smile. "I'll say you 'ave, Harry. So this place really does turn ya all into little horses? An what's this? You gots a horn too? And scales? 'Ardly a horse. Much more… Oh! Just like a kirin!"

I bounced in place. Of course Hagrid would know exactly what I was. He knew every animal. "Yes! That's right! I knew you'd—"

"H-Harry? Harry Potter?" Another voice from the bus. "Harry James Potter?"

"Easy now, Sirius, Harry hasn't met you before," Hagrid said.

"But I—He's—" The man getting off the bus looked… like the most wizard wizard that ever wizarded. There were no robes and he didn't have a wand, but his stare (locked on me) was intense beyond belief. He wore a black shirt that was in tatters and had a pair of old jeans on. "Yes. Yes, you're right, Rubeus. C-Could you introduce me to my godson?"

My brain hit a wall.

'Wake up, Harry. They're talking to you.'

"G-Godson?" Odd, it sounded like my voice was really far away.

'You blanked out. Still standing though.'

Thanks, Hedwig.

'You're welcome.'

Hagrid was towering over me, though he didn't seem menacing at all. He was Hagrid, after all. "Yes, Harry. This 'ere's Sirius Black. He—He was stitched up a treat by—"

"Peter Pettigrew." Sirius Black's voice sounded cold as ice. He sounded like he could kill with just those words. "He killed so many muggles, then he claimed I did it. I spent—That doesn't matter now. I'll find him, but not if it takes me away from you, Harry."

There was something about his voice. Something that reminded me of my parents. It stung more than anything to feel that, but something in my head shoved him firmly into the family group. I couldn't stop myself. My hooves were moving and I jumped at him.

Hedwig leapt free of me just before I hit Sirius in the chest. His arms caught me, but I couldn't tell what his expression was because I'd started crying. Addera was the closest thing to a mother I'd had since—

"You knew my parents?" I asked.

"Yes, Harry. I knew Lily and James." Just the sound of him saying their names—as if he were so familiar with the words—told me all I needed to about him. He knew my parents and they knew him well enough to make him my godfather.

"I—"

Screaming and shouting cut me off. This was supposed to be a special moment meeting my godfather, and something even crazier was happening.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked.

"Rack and ruin!" a house-elf said as he cartwheeled out of the bus.

Mr. Weasley was running toward us through the screaming crowd. His voice was lost in the noise everyone was making, but he was pointing away from the portal, and that was enough for me.

"Maybe we should run?" I asked.

"I'd trust 'Arry if I were you. He's survived two wars now." Despite his words, though, Fred just pulled out his wand and stood beside his mum—facing the direction of the portal to Earth.

Ginevra Molly Weasley didn't actually want to hurt the wizards running Azkaban. They were good men, but they were giving her little choice. She had little in the way of magic that would stun since all her power seemed to twist, reshape, and sometimes kill.

Fortunately for Sombra's apprentice, the wizards of Azkaban weren't exactly focused on defending the inmates. They'd huddled in the staff quarters and had barricaded themselves in. When she realized this, Ginevra let out a little sigh of relief.

"Have you chosen what to do with all these evil wizards and witches?" Sombra was comfortable leaving Ginevra to manage the prison. He was calling back his power bit by bit and absorbing the Dementors.

"Their lives are wasted here. They are powerful, thinking beings." Ginevra walked slowly down the hall where the Dementors had dragged all the prisoners to. "They fear, they panic—I can feel it all." Raising her hand, Ginevra reached out to thread her power into each of the wizards and witches that now bore a different mark. She tugged gently, but it was a tug nonetheless.

Bellatrix Lestrange was the first to stumble forward. She stared at Ginevra and felt her blood run cold. "W-What are you?"

Tugging more, Ginevra drew more of the death eaters to their feet and toward her. "Your salvation. Tell me now, do you choose death or servitude?"

"Where's Voldemort? Where is he and what did you do to our marks?" Bellatrix, despite having no angle to argue from, stood up straight and glared at Ginevra. "And who are you to make me choose? To make any of us choose?"

"I am Ginevra Molly Weasley. My master dealt with Voldemort and gave the handling of your wretched selves to me. As I did with Igor, I have decided to give you the chance to redeem yourselves—or not." Jerking hard on the string of magic connected to Bellatrix, Ginevra pulled the witch toward her so quickly she fell to her knees. "I can do either. Choose life or I will give you to the Dementors to fuel my master's magic."

"Weasley…" The name meant something to Bellatrix. The name of the only Sacred Twenty-Eight family to have anything to do with muggle-born was well-known to her only because Bellatrix enjoyed the idea of killing them. Now, however, her allegiance seemed in flux. "Pure-blooded witch of a Sacred Twenty-Eight family…"

Bellatrix stared at the mark on her arm and felt the connection to Ginevra through it. Dark energy writhed and swirled just beyond her grasp. Though she'd had a strong connection to Voldemort, Ginevra's power drew her closer—like a moth to a flame. "He's really gone?"

The emotions leaking through the link with Bellatrix told Ginevra everything she needed to know. "He is. King Sombra dealt with him, and now you can be free." She reached down with one hand and cupped Bellatrix's jaw.

The searing cold was immediate, but Bellatrix felt—for the first time in her life—truly unafraid of anything. Always before there had been one constant she had to fear, be it her father or her former master. The pain Ginevra gave her was as freeing as it was shocking. Along with the ice came burning dark magic.

Ginevra's magic—rooted in Equestria as all magic was—knew well the forms of that land. When she called for a menacing shape to remake the witch before her, it delivered again. First Bellatrix's face began to elongate and darken, then her whole body began to writhe and twist.

The pain was extraordinary, but Bellatrix had experienced worse as a prisoner of Azkaban. She locked eyes with Ginevra and let the dark witch's magic pour through her unopposed. Limbs twisted and reshaped, her head felt like it was pulled and tugged every which way, and finally her vision became tinted with green as immense magic wrapped itself around her core.

As Bellatrix stood up on four shaking legs, she looked down her bark-covered snout. Experienced with shape-changing magics, it took her moments to figure out how a mouth such as hers now was worked. "What am I?"

"Timberwolf," Sombra said as he stepped up beside his apprentice and looked in delight upon the form she'd given Bellatrix. "Invincible, relentless, hungry. Fear not physical blows, nor shy from flame—your rotting wood will withstand both."

For the first time in her life Bellatrix Lestrange felt physical power on par with that of her magic. Shaking her shoulders from side to side in a rolling motion that worked its way down her body, she felt exactly how Sombra had described her. "You are my master's master?"

"I prefer to think of myself as a liberator. Removing shackles and bonds that tie creatures to immutable horror. Can you not say your freedom is—exciting?" Sombra's experience with humans might be short, but he was already enjoying how fast they were to shift alignment when they sensed true power. At the same time he was also cautious to bind such to him so they couldn't shift their focus to the next alicorn to come along.

The white palm-print on Bellatrix's jaw stretched as she smiled. "I want to hunt. Let me loose!"

"Who else," Ginevra asked, "wishes to live?"

"What's this?" Lucius Malfoy glared at the people slowly filing through the rift to Equestria. "This is unacceptable!" The press of people around the portal made reaching it difficult even for someone who thought as highly of himself as Lucius did.

With her mother between her and her father, Draco had never felt so alone in her life. Even before she'd started school she'd had two "friends" with her. Though even Draco had to admit that Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe weren't her friends. They weren't after she became a pony, and they hadn't been before then either.

Draco was surprised to hear an echo of muggle equipment rattling off the hills around where Hogwarts had one stood. Turning, she first saw two faces she hadn't expected arriving with their families in tow. "Helena? Lucian?"

"What was that, Draco-dear?" Narcissa Malfoy looked down at her daughter, that she still thought of as her son, then traced the direction Draco was looking. "Oh, your friends?"

"Yeah. My friends." The two of them had shown Draco more friendship in two days than she'd experienced in her whole life. Those friends weren't the source of the muggle-machine sound. "What's that noise coming from?"

The Knight Bus didn't so much come into view as swerved around a person and was suddenly there. Ernest Prang had been driving the bus for quite some time, and knew the little tricks it could pull. Swerving around a sheep and coming out from behind a witch was just one of a multitude of seemingly impossible things it could do—though this particular one only worked if the sheep was a ewe and the witch was no more than a kilometer away. Ernest didn't know why the limitations existed, he only knew how to use them.

"Hold on, Stan, this might get a bit bumpy," Ernest said.

Stanley Shunpike had heard Ernest use those words only twice before. His eyes narrowed to points and his fists tightened around the metal bars he normally forsook in favor of his sense of balance. Clearing his throat, he braced against whatever was coming. "'Old on t' somethin'!"

It was a good thing Ernest was such a terrible driver. He recognized several people he'd personally learned to dislike greatly, and try though he might, he missed absolutely everyone on his rush toward the rift. In fact, the one thing he didn't miss at all was the rift that led to Equestria.

"That was the Knight Bus. Quickly, it made a gap." Grabbing his wife's hand, Lucius started to pull her forward only to freeze as icy pain lanced through his arm. His personal wards were crumbling as he felt a tug on the very core of his being. "G-Go! It's here!"

"What on Earth are you saying? What's here?" But as she turned to look, Narcissa's eyes widened at the sight of a host of monsters flying toward them. "Lucius—?"

"Go!" This was no longer about getting to safety. The icy pain growing inside Lucius Malfoy was proof to him that he would not leave this place. All that mattered to him was that his wife and daughter were fine. "Go, damn you, Narcissa!"

"I should think not." Narcissa could feel the dark magic her husband was preparing. She drew her own wand and started weaving her own curses. "Draco, do help your friends get everyone through the portal, and don't wait for us."

"But—"

Quick to cut Draco off, Narcissa started sending her first salvos of dark magic at the beasts winging toward them. "Do not dawdle young man! Do as you're told."

For a moment Draco considered standing with them, but the steel in her mother's voice was something she knew she couldn't fight. "Y-Yes. Yes, mother."

"Draco"—Lucius paused to sling his first killing curse into the mass bearing down on them—"I'm proud of you." With the protection of his daughter firmly in mind, Lucius found the impetus to send several more green lances of magic into the host.

"C'mon, Draco, I think we all need to get out of 'ere'." Lucian Bole planted his head behind Draco's back end and shoved her toward the rift. "Sure you're not commin'? Sir, ma'am?"

"Quite sure. Do see Draco doesn't wait too close to that portal, if we can't stop them, that will be my last target." The wards of magic swirled around Narcissa now, encompassing Lucius as well. "Please hurry."

"You 'eard her, Draco, all four legs goin' now. Come on!" Lucian, with all of his might, was able to push Draco away from her parents despite Draco's best efforts.

Crying, Draco wanted to rush back to her parents and help them. But Lucian was implacable, and a few more feet of pushing and Draco surrendered and began to trot with him. "Why are they doing that? They can leave too!" As she spoke, though, Draco watched as her parents were illuminated by wards her mother had cast. Magic blasts and bolts came thick and fast—launched from both sides—and she had to admit that it would have been hard to find two better wizards to stand against the attack.

"Darling," Narcissa said as she rebuilt a ward that a strange beast made of wood had physically tried to plow through, "what are our odds?"

Barking a laugh, Lucius didn't waver for a moment as he sent another killing curse at the timberwolf—this was the fourth he'd hit it with. "Dear Narcissa, I haven't a clue how to kill half of these things. That one keeps shattering and reforming, and the dragon at the back has just brushed off everything I've sent its way."

"Thought as much. Can we at least hold them off for Draco and his friends?"

Lucius was practically aglow with magic. It boiled through his blood and jolted out from the various artifacts he'd prepared and brought with him in case of this sort of situation. "Oh, I think we can, so long as—"

"Stop. You can't win." Ginevra walked through the ranks of monsters. Burning now with yet more magic—gifted to her by Sombra—she held out a hand and magically grasped at the link to Lucius Malfoy. "You're a Death Eater."

Feeling the magic trying to cut through her ward, Narcissa strengthened it to allow her husband to resist Ginevra's pull.

Ginevra struggled several times to manipulate Lucius, but the wards held and he was free to keep casting. What surprised Ginevra, however, was that she didn't feel a mark on Narcissa. "You are the last two. Surrender, let me give you purpose, and this fighting will be over."

"Purpose?" Narcissa laughed in a short, sharp, and mocking tone. "I already have a purpose, dear lady, and that is to protect my child, protect my husband, and protect all these people here from monsters like yourself!"

The vehemence in Narcissa's words stung Ginevra. Here she had a witch without a dark mark, accusing her of being a monster. She paused in her attacks and looked around—behind the couple facing her.

Ginevra's eyes widened at the sight of all the people screaming and running in fear. Fear of her.

No fool, Sombra could understand the compassion that his apprentice showed. He could also appreciate that it was something he'd need to work on, but he could understand it nonetheless. "Ginevra, let them go."

"Huh?" The words stole Ginevra's attention.

Seeing her master distracted, Bellatrix Lestrange rushed forward to harass Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. If not for the pair working together, Bellatrix could have slain them both. As it was, she had to keep moving and working constantly to avoid being shattered by magic again—but she did keep them focused on her.

"These creatures—humans. Let them return to Equestria. We have no quarrel with them. They are not who must be punished." It was a simple mercy, so far as Sombra was concerned. After all, it would mean more servants once he returned to power.

Her king's nobility was assured, in Ginevra's mind, by his apparent mercy. She smiled and nodded. "Of course. I was—I just figured that… Thank you, master." Calling Sombra her master came easier with the reprieve he offered, and it brought a smile to Ginevra lips. "But I still need to deal with these two."

Sombra liked her enthusiasm, though he really didn't care about the targets of her wrath so much as her actually being wrathful. "Might I suggest something canine?"

Ginevra's mind raced and she came up with exactly the right fit for the pair. "The only two Death Eaters to work together when I came upon them. I have just the thing."

Bellatrix had been enjoying herself immensely. She'd been grazed by Lucius Malfoy's magic several times, but though it blew holes in her body, the rotten would rushed back moments later. She was implacable and unstoppable, and she was getting closer to the couple. Just when Bellatrix started to leap for the kill, she watched a hand reach out of the ground close around Lucius' neck.

Staring as the woman rose from the ground and grabbed her husband, Narcissa Malfoy started preparing the biggest spell she could. A single look at her husband's agonized face told her everything she needed to know. "No. Not today and not any day."

The spell was wordless, and required only the will of someone that wanted to cause absolute devastation and destruction—thus it was almost always accompanied by a scream of rage. Lucius Malfoy smiled, despite the pain gripping his neck, as his darling wife flashed aglow and her body became fire.

When love, fury, and dark magic combined, Narcissa felt her body burn away in an instant. The spell required much of a caster, but it needed far less to fully realize should the caster be willing to join it. Stepping toward her husband, the elemental of flame that had been Narcissa Malfoy tossed aside Ginevra Molly Weasley with a wash of searing fire as she embraced her beloved.

Fiendfyre was not a kind spell. It stripped Lucius of his life in but a moment of searing release. His body bulged and trembled as his will was wrought into a new form. Wings of flame exploded from Lucius' back and his hands curled into sickle-bladed claws.

When the fire dragon that was her husband turned to face her, Narcissa's being exploded with excitement. She leapt atop his back and together—along with a growing number of wyrms, salamanders, and serpents (all made of flame and fury), they set upon the menagerie that Ginevra had created.

Sombra had to move fast. For a moment he'd admired the fire spell that Narcissa had wrought, but all too soon he saw how dangerous it was to himself and his student. Reaching forth with his magic, he grabbed Ginevra and pulled her away before the flames reached her. "We cannot fight this conflagration. Let us leave them to their end."

Even Igor could tell that a fire was too hot for his allies—though the flames didn't seem capable of burning through his scales. Stomping toward his master, he spotted Bellatrix and grabbed her by the neck just before Lucius Malfoy managed to pounce on her.

Pumping his wings, Igor dragged himself and Bellatrix skyward. On his heels, however, was a dragon made of flame and anger. Not able to get himself and Bellatrix away from his pursuer, he rolled his foreleg back and threw the timberwolf at the portal.

"You understand, Ginevra, that there are some things we cannot confront head-on?" Sombra marched his apprentice toward the portal and watched the last few humans flee through the portal. "This magic is most impressive, and while I believe we could easily destroy it, it would cost more time and energy."

"Masters!" Peter Pettigrew had galloped around the fire to reach Sombra and Ginevra. "Masters! Don't leave me here!"

Not for the sight of Peter did Sombra smile, but rather for the diadem that was stuck around his neck. "You have survived. Well done. Come." At the cusp of the portal, Sombra watched as a timberwolf sailed past them and through the portal. A glance back showed him why Bellatrix had been soaring through the air—Igor was flying at them as fast as he could with a dragon made of fire literally on his tail.

Ginevra, Bellatrix, Peter, and Igor were all given a good shove by Sombra's magic. He put up a wall that would, if nothing else, slow down what was left of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. "Go back whence you came. Burn this world for all I care."

With his last words spoken on Earth, Sombra stepped back through the portal and broke the tendril of magic that kept the rift open.

As the primary portal between Equestria and Earth broke asunder, each of the additional ones also lost their anchor between the worlds—and winked out one by one.

"DRAGON!" Sombra bellowed. The pain of the Crystal Heart—so near and fully charged—was eating away at his power. "Get us out of here!" His voice and form had become far more bestial now he had his magic and was once more in Equestria. Only two things held him back from taking his rightful place as ruler: the Crystal Heart and the alicorns of Equestria.

If Igor had felt devoted to Ginevra and Sombra before, he was now ready to do anything for them. Voldemort had never saved him from anything. Reaching out his talons, he grabbed Bellatrix and Peter up while lowering a wing for Sombra and Ginevra to climb. When his masters were aboard, he began pumping his wings.

The magic of Equestria loved flying creatures. It made life particularly easy for pegasi, but also dragons. Igor shot into the sky and was winging toward the barrier of the Crystal Heart before he knew it. Reaching out with his claws, he raked at the barrier with his back legs and tore a huge hole in it.

Ginevra, still shocked by the Fiendfyre curse that she'd just faced, found herself looking down at the people gathered below. She recognized one face in particular because it was the only one looking up at her—Harry Potter.

Watching the dragon tear its way through the magic of the Crystal Heart's shield, Harry pointed upward with his hoof. "Did anyone else just see a dragon carrying a tree and a pony?"

"What're you on about, Harry?" Following the direction Harry was looking, George could only see the sealed-over patch where Igor had ripped his way free. "Why's everyone yellin'?"

"The portal's gone! There was some kind of fight on the other side." Arthur Weasley had finally caught up with his family but was almost breathless. "Monsters attacked them, and—"

"It wasn't monsters!" Draco marched up to the cluster of people and ponies around the Knight Bus. "It was—was King Sombra again. He had an army with him. Dragon, some kind of wooden wolf, all kinds of snakes and things with more heads than sense!" When everyone kept staring at her, she tried to get angry but only tears came. "M-M-Mother and Father stood up against them…"

Advancing on Draco, Molly Weasley crouched herself down and pulled the filly into a hug. She knew there wasn't a single thing she could tell Draco that would make her feel better, so she just offered the hug and let the filly cry.

Turning to look at Rolanda Hooch, Harry Potter bit his lower lip. "What do we do now? Wait for them to open another portal and go back? What if we get stuck over there?"

Clearing her throat, Rolanda spread her wings and lifted herself into the air and landed again on top of the Knight Bus. "Everybody! I understand that this hasn't gone exactly as planned, but if you would all follow me, I'll show you where the castle is so you can all get temporarily settled. This way."

In the midst of the crowd, huddling under his coat in the hotter-than-expected winter of the Crystal Empire, Bartemius Crouch Jr. held tight to Winky's hand. Everyone around them kept clear of the house-elf, not realizing Bartemius still hid under the invisibility cloak. "What do we do, WInky?"

It was the exact last thing Winky wanted to hear. She looked up at Bartemius and spent all her effort on not shrugging. She was in charge. "We need to leave here, mas—Barty." It was still both strange and a thrill to say his name. "They won't be looking for you exactly, but with this many around, they're bound to find you. Plus we need to get food, and this place doesn't look well-stocked."

"Of course." Thinking was still hard to do, lest Bartemius risk the wrath of the Imperius Curse still affecting him. "Please, Winky, lead on." Reaching across with his free arm, he scratched the spot on his arm where the horse mark had replaced his dark mark.

"This isn't right, Richard." Herbert Trencent felt distinctly unwell as they walked slowly after the Knight Bus and the pegasus riding atop it. "We're supposed to be in charge here."

"My dear chap, it was only a few days ago you wanted to wash your hands of everything going on. Now you want to take charge? Very well. Do so." Richard Fellows gestured toward Rolanda Hooch with his pipe. "You know as well as I do the consequence of casting magic here, but at the same time we'll need to use magic if we have any hope of returning to Earth."

"And what if all this lot were right?"

"I thought you said this wasn't right?"

"This event isn't right, but you heard them. The further away from the portal, the weaker magic was. If the portals really were the source of magic on Earth—and they're closed—what would it be to go back to?"

Taking a long puff on his pipe, Richard Fellows let out a soft sigh as the tobacco reached his lungs and soothed him. "Then I would say we're the lucky ones. Think for a second. What would it be like back there now with no magic? All your precious memory charms would be gone and muggles would be seeing things as they really are."

"Exactly. I know this doesn't feel right, but it could be much worse. What of that other—" Herbert's mouth was covered by Richard's hand so quickly he barely had time to blink.

"I think, for both our good, we'd do well not to share that kind of information until we know what it's worth, Herbert." Slowly taking his hand back, Richard smiled as if it were a mask.

That brought Herbert Trencent up sharply. He paused and let out a sigh. "You're right, of course. Sometimes I lean too heavily on Obliviation as a method for solving all problems. This is not a problem that hammer will work on. The question now is, do we—do we cast spells?"

"We're wizards, Herbert, casting spells is what we do. I'm sure things won't be too bad. Look at all these students. It doesn't seem to slow them down any."

"Richard, you realize we're neither of us spring chickens. Slow is what we do best." Herbert took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So we have two assumptions to make. The first is that we can regain contact with the Ministry. The second is that we are on our own here."

"Very good thinking, that. The first is merely a matter of accounting, the second is where our focus should be."

"Oh? I reached the same conclusion. If the Ministry finds a way to connect with us, they would be rather upset if we tried to usurp their power structure. So, we bill ourselves as The Equestrian Office of the Ministry."

Richard smiled and drew on his pipe. "This is exactly the right move. Then we continue to act how the Ministry of Magic would under the circumstances."

"Precisely. Now, the first matter is to gather up all Ministry witches and wizards and see what we have to work with. We can't very well claim dominion over magic, here, if it were just the two of us."

Author's Notes:

Princess Cadence: With the human wizards coming to the portal, did they mention their slaves named 'House elves' and the bankers 'Goblins' that could follow them?

"Slaves? I believe in honoring other cultures, but slavery was not mentioned." Cadance's normally serene expression took on a hard aspect. "I believe there will be words had. Equestria does not allow such things, and neither will the Crystal Empire."

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