> On the Implications of Parallel Worlds
>  by computerneek
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ready for a new year?” Professor Dumbledore asked cheerfully, once the last professor in the school had entered the staffroom, even the ones that didn’t normally come here.  It was time for the annual school preparation meeting, before breakfast on the morning after the letters went out.
Professor Snape immediately looked at the empty seat that had held a different person each year for the last four decades.  “I notice we’re still short a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”
“Ahh, yes,” Dumbledore chuckled.  “I thought you’d notice that.  Professor Quirrell will be rejoining us this year as such- but he won’t be arriving at the school until early August.”
Professor McGonagall scowled in response.  “Even though he has to know nobody ever holds that position long?”
Dumbledore shrugged.  “I’m sure he, like all forty before him, believes he will be the one to change that.  And it remains to be seen whether he actually will, does it not?”
A round of shrugs was the only response.
“I don’t suppose he told us when he wants his schedule, did he?” McGonagall asked.
Dumbledore smiled.  “He tells me he’ll take whatever we have to offer.  Lemon drop?”
McGonagall ignored the offer, though, and instead let out a sigh.  “Good.  That last one was a headache.  Anyone have any new scheduling preferences?”
Heads shook.
She nodded in response.  “Excellent.  I’ll have the class schedules distributed two minutes after I get back to my office.”
The entire room seemed to heave a sigh of relief at those words.  The prior year, the DADA instructor had been ridiculously particular with his class schedule- and had kept changing it on them, which had caused this meeting to stretch all the way through lunch.
Dumbledore chuckled.  “Alright.  We’ve also got our materials budget from the Ministry this year- and dear Quirinus has already opted out.  We have forty-two galleons and eighteen knuts for general classroom supplies…”  He looked up at Professor Snape.  “And only sixty-three galleons, four sickles, and two knuts for potions supplies.”
Right as Snape wrinkled his nose, the door opened to admit the caretaker.
“Ahh, Argus,” Dumbledore greeted.  “Glad you could join us.  Anything to add?”
Filch glanced up at him, bearing a rather unusual expression.  “Aside from the usual?  Yeah…  Anyone know where all the owls got to?”
Several people blinked.
“Come again?” Dumbledore asked.
Filch shrugged.  “Not that I’m complaining- it’s been years since I could clean the place properly- but as near as I can tell, there’s not a single owl left in the castle.  Where’d they all go?”
McGonagall scowled.  “The letters should have been sent out to the students yesterday,” she supplied.  “Wouldn’t that…?”
Filch shook his head.  “No, that’s only ever two hundred and fifty letters or so, and we’ve got just over six hundred owls.”





“Shoo, bird.  Trixie does not believe these stones need-  Wait.  Is that-?  Is that a letter, addressed to Trixie?”
The massive bird nodded its head, gesturing with its wing for her to take the letters.
She accepted them in her magic.  “T-Trixie could have sworn mail was delivered by pony, rather than by owl,” she commented, flicking through the envelopes to read the names and addresses.
After raising her eyebrow at the near-identical envelopes addressed to each and every pony presently on the rock farm, she ripped open the one with her name on it and scanned the missive.  The bird, on the other hoof, waited patiently for something.
“Hog-warts?” she asked slowly.  “What kind of a name is that…?  Whatever- this is excellent news!  Though…  Trixie has no idea where this Eng-land is.  And what do they mean, they await Trixie’s owl…?”  She tilted her head slowly, and looked up at the owl.  “Does it mean, they expect you to carry Trixie’s response?”
It bobbed its head in a nod.
“Trixie thanks you!  Trixie will be right back!”





His uncle’s face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights, and didn’t stop there, letter held high above his head.  “P-Petunia?”





“Oh hi, what would you- Oh, is that mail?”
The bird on the sales counter dropped the letters from its beak, giving a hoot.
“Okie dokie lokie!  Let’s see…”  Pinkie had caught the letters the moment they were released, and had hers opened and in front of her less than a second later.  “Huh.  I’ve got a funny feeling Twilight’s gonna say yes, so that.  But what will the Cakes say?”  She vanished into the backroom for a minute before reappearing, a single, new letter held in her hoof.  “Alright, here’s our answer- and would you like a treat before you go?”  She offered an owl-sized cupcake in her other hoof.
“Hoo.”





“There’s another one!”





“Huh-?  I didn’t know you carried mail, Owlow-  Wait.  You’re not Owlowiscious.”  She blinked at the owl.  “Somepony have you carrying their mail?”
“Hoo.”
Blink.  “You know, I have no clue how, but I understood that.  Um…”  She turned her attention to the already opened letter.  “Um…”  She looked back up at the owl.  “Are you serious?”
“Hoo.”
Facehoof.  “I should’ve seen that coming.  Are they serious, I guess.  Inviting me to magic school.”
“Hoo.”
“...  Huh.  You know what, that sounds like something Discord would love.  And…  Hang on.  These ponies aren’t unicorns, are they?”





“What the hay-?”
The owl dropped the two letters on the counter in front of it.  “Hoo.”
Blink, blink.  “Uh, okay.”  A golden magic aura then opened one of the letters, and she started reading it, before looking up sharply.  “Wait.  You’re from the other side of the Gate, aren’t you?”
The owl nodded.
“Oh, that makes so much more sense.  Um…”  Her horn glowed briefly.  “...  Yeah, I’m in trouble alright.  Do you want to ride, or fly?  I need to see Twilight about this, before I reply.”  She glanced at the other letter.  “Er, before we reply.”
“Hoo.”
A cream-colored mare walked into the room, and spoke irately.  “What do you need to see Twilight about?”  Immediately, a sealed letter was stuffed in her face.
Both unicorn and owl waited patiently for her to read it.
“...  Okay.  Where did this come from…?”
“Remember my Gate project?  I opened the gate about a week ago.  And now, these came through it.  About eighteen hundred such letters have already made it into Equestria, and there’s more on the way.  Pretty sure this ‘Hogwarts’ has no clue just who they’re inviting- these letters feel spell-generated, not handwritten.”
“Ahh, then yes, we definitely need to go see Twilight.”





“You see, if they can’t deliver them, they’ll just give up,” his uncle spoke, while trying to hammer in a nail with a piece of fruitcake.





“...aren’t unicorns, are they?”
The doors exploded open right as soon as Twilight finished speaking.  “No, they’re not,” Lyra said, galloping in with Bonbon right behind her and an owl on her back.  “A week ago, I opened an interdimensional portal in my backyard.  Now, all of the sudden, these have started coming through- about eighteen hundred have already made it to Equestria.  Until now, I didn’t know magic even existed on the other side- it’s even emptier than Pedestria, magically speaking!  So, whatever magic this ‘Hogwarts’ wants to teach, it’s likely very different from ours- and, possibly, even conflicting.
“It’s also a whole ‘nother nation, that isn’t nearly so happy-go-lucky as we are here in Equestria- and I’m the only one that’s crossed the Gate so far.  I think I’ve worked out the spells to give us similar ‘human’ forms when we cross, rather than Pedestrian forms, but you’ll probably want to check that over before we emplace them.
“And of course, there’s the other option:  We announce that these letters were sent without permission, send all the owls back through, and seal the Gate.”
Twilight blinked.  “So, this is first contact for them, right?”
“Uhh…  Yes, it would be.”
“Then let’s not cut them off, that wouldn’t be very friendly.  How hard would it be to educate everypony on the proper etiquette of that world before we send them through?”
“Not… too hard, at least.  It’s kinda similar to Pedestria, just a little less flexible, absolutely no magic, and skin color is much more limited:  Peach-ish, with an optional brownish darkening to almost black.  I have been able to acquire a few books on the topic- and they aren’t that lengthy, so you should be able to finish them in under an hour if you want to.  They also don’t summarize very well, so we could probably cover everything important in a…  oh, five-minute crash course, and serve some twenty or thirty ponies at once.”
“Alright.  Do you want to go through with that, or…?”
“Definitely.  I opened that gate because I wanted to learn about other universes- and, assuming all goes well, this sounds like a great way to do that.  If all doesn’t go well, the Gate is only tethered on this end- we’ll have only to get our ponies back home and seal the Gate, and they’ll never see us again.  I imagine we can add an emergency teleport to the Gate transformation spell, to force everypony back to this side the instant I start closing it, no matter where they are?”
“Sounds good, let’s do it.”  Twilight looked up at her owl, then down at the second letter it had delivered, before calling out to the hallway.  “Spike?  You’ve got mail!”
The named dragon’s response echoed down the passage, confused.  “What?  When did that happen?”





Petunia shredded two dozen letters in her food processor.





“Well now, this is interesting.  Hey, Lulu?”
“Mm?”
“Before you go, you might want to check your mail.”
“Mail?  I have mail?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.”  She then opened her letter, read it, and facehooved.  “Well, this is insulting.  Somepony thinks I’m so far behind the times I need to go to magic school.”
Chuckle.  “You know, they’ve invited me too.”
All traces of sleepiness disappeared in an instant.  “What?”
Nod.  “It’s making me curious what cave they crawled out of.”
Right at that moment, a scroll appeared in a blaze of green fire.





“Alright, that’s it,” his uncle declared, pulling tufts out of his mustache.





“Huh?”  She left her sister’s letter on her desk, and opened her own.
“Hoo?”
“She’s in the bathroom.  Um…  What the hay is Hogwarts?  Um…”  She galloped to the door, and opened it as soon as she reached it.  “Gah!  Oh, I was about to look for you!”
“Huh?  Wait, did you two get letters from Hogwarts too?”
“Yep!”
“Yep!  So, we saying yes, or no?”
Heads nodded.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders Witches!”





“I got about an ‘undred of these at the front desk.”





“Wha-?  I have mail?  Delivered by owl?  I’ll have to admit, that’s new.”
“Hoo.”  The letter floated slowly away from the owl’s beak.
“Right.  Thank you.”  He took the letter, and dropped it into the blender on the side of his vanilla-pudding-filled hot tub.  “Would you like a treat while you’re here?”
“Hoo.”
“Ahh, no biggie.  Anyways.”  The letter then finished shredding itself despite the lack of a blade in the blender, which he then poured into a nice tall cup, which he swirled the purple drink with for a second before downing it in one gulp.  Then he took the fragments of the letter, mixed them with the drink, squoze them into a cloth, and tied it around his head like a headband, which he then discarded into the chocolate-pudding-filled swimming pool next door.  “Oh, I see.  Yes, that’ll be quite interesting.”  He then drew a normal, but completely clean, letter out of the mud puddle next to his hot tub to hand it to the owl.  “Here’s my answer, thank you.  Have a nice trip!”





“I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste alright.”





A series of professors sat in stunned silence, staring at the veritable mountain of letters of varying shapes and sizes that the owls had just delivered to their table.
“It’s…  a good thing we already ate,” Professor Sprout stated.
Professor McGonagall drew her wand, separated the letters into two floating stacks with a quick spell, and sighed.  “This is going to be a busy year,” she stated.
Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at her.  “Lots of students?”
She nodded, and pointed at the first stack.  “That is two hundred ninety-seven letters from new students accepting their place here,” she stated, before pointing to the second stack.  “And that is six hundred thirty seven letters turning down the same.”  She heaved a sigh, allowing her arm to fall back to the table.  “And the letters only went out yesterday.”

“Well,” Professor Dumbledore nodded cheerfully, “we found the owls!”  He paused dramatically, but only Professor Sprout smiled, so he continued.  “I’ll go write a few letters to the proprietors of a few shops in Diagon Alley- they might need to stock extra, and fast.  Then we’ll have to see just how quickly we can find the owls again, eh?”
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Hogwarts Staff,
We, of Equestria, would like to thank you for the invitations to your school.  We believe this is most fortunate; however, this may also prove to be a challenge.
The thing is, Equestria has been and still is magically isolated from your world.  We’ve recently opened a gateway, and expect that is how your letters found their way to us; however, all non-Equestrian humans, magical and non-magical alike, are magically barred entry to our lands.
This could present a significant problem, as none of our number know where to get any of the equipment on the list, nor where Hogwarts might be, and our scouts through your lands have not been able to find any.  Fortunately, though, we have observed the formation of magical bonds upon any given Equestrian accepting attendance, and have been able to trace these bonds on our end.  As such, it is our intention to assist with the process as much as possible- in moving our people through our Gate as required, so as to acquire supplies and reach the school.
To that end, given the relatively close start of term and even closer acceptance deadline, we find that negotiating by mail may not be fast enough.  So, while fully willing to negotiate by mail, we will also be making ourselves available in person, at Renfrew Skatepark- look for the blue-and-white-striped hair, her name is Lyra Heartstrings- from dawn ‘till dusk, starting immediately.
While on the topic of negotiation, there is one other thing that will require negotiation:  Currency.  Our currency bears little or no similarity to many of the currencies we’ve been able to identify across your world; if any purchasing is to be done or payments to be made, an exchange must be negotiated.
Signed,
Agent Candy Stripes, Royal Equestrian Secret Service
Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria
Spike, Assistant to Princess Twilight Sparkle
P.S. I, Princess Twilight Sparkle, and Spike, my assistant, have both received invitations as well and wish to accept them.  I will be accompanying Lyra in Renfrew.





Hagrid sighed as he parked his motorcycle in the parking lot of a skatepark.  Ever since the acceptance letters had started coming in, the teachers- and Dumbledore- had all been swamped by them, and they’d been having him run around to introduce the muggleborns.  Unfortunately, though, the first one had taken him almost three full days for the full process- reach, introduce, take through Diagon Alley, and return.  So, he’d made a request when he got back to the Castle the night before; much of that time was traveling to and from the castle.  That morning, Dumbledore had granted his request…  and so he’d set out with his motorcycle.
He pulled the letter he was answering today from the pocket in his overcoat that he’d decided to use for the day’s letter, right next to the one holding all the other letters and notes from students he needs to visit, and read it through again.
It still struck him as odd to find a P.S. on what is, ostensibly, an official communication, but it’s not his job to be picky.  He double checked the sign, just to be sure- yes, this was Renfrew Skatepark.  And he was looking for…
He looked up, just in time to see a girl with blue and white hair and a skateboard fly at least fifty feet off the top of a ramp, doing some fancy trick in midair, before vanishing back down behind the wall.
He sighed, checking the description on the letter, before dismounting his bike and walking into the park to find the girl.
He got a better view of the girl when she next flew high into the air, and decided that that had to be Lyra.  A quick glance around the park then revealed a large number of helmeted boys with skateboards, simply staring at her as she raced around the park; there were also a few other skateboarders on the ramps, but none flying nearly as high as her.
He watched her fly up a third time, and scowled.  He didn’t particularly want to put himself in harm’s way by descending into the bowl-like ramps, and he also didn’t particularly want to startle her into a potentially fatal crash…  so he ended up stopping to wait.
She didn’t stop, though, repeatedly flying high into the sky.
A few minutes after he arrived, a dark blue haired girl, with twinned pink and purple stripes down the middle, drew his attention.  He’d seen her moving more slowly around the skatepark earlier, wobbling on her skateboard- but she hadn’t drawn his attention like she did then, by falling off her skateboard.
Lyra promptly stormed down a ramp…  and made her board jump over the blue-haired girl’s board, before launching herself into the sky again.
So the blue-haired girl scrambled back to her feet, snatched her board, and ran across the park to the edge, where she then scrambled out of it…  and looked up at Hagrid.  “Well Hello.  Looking for something?”
He snorted.  “Yeah.  Waitin’ for Lyra.”  He gestured towards the girl in question.
The blue-haired girl blinked, then facepalmed.  “I should’a guessed,” she groaned, before turning to the park, putting a hand up to her mouth…  and yelling.  “Lyra!”
Lyra, mid-trick on the opposite side of the park, glanced up briefly, landed on the slope, and made a very fast and snake-like path over to the nearest slope.  She then flew up only about six feet, did a flip, and landed solidly on her board, on the flat bank next to them.  “You know Twilight, that wasn’t very polite to the other skaters.”
The blue-haired girl- apparently Twilight- winced.  “Sorry.  But, uh, we’ve got visitors.”  She gestured towards Hagrid.
“Duly noted,” Lyra muttered, before looking up at Hagrid.  “So, who might you be?”  As she spoke, she stepped off her board and flipped it up into her hands, where it seemed to disappear tracelessly.
Hagrid blinked, realizing that Twilight’s board had also disappeared at some point.  “Er…  Lyra Heartstrings?”
Lyra noded.  “That’s me.”
“And…”  He turned towards Twilight.  “Princess Twilight Sparkle?”
Twilight blushed, for some reason.  “Ah, heh heh…  Yeah.”
Lyra grinned.  “She’s a bit of a new princess, and she doesn’t like it much.”
Twilight rounded on her.  “What-!  Why do you say that?  I’ve been liking it well enough!”
Lyra folded her arms, raising an eyebrow.  “So you’ve been enjoying the duties and the titles and the formalities and the bowing and the-!”
“No!” Twilight screamed, at vastly lower volume than she had when calling Lyra.  “Nonononono!  That stuff is terrible!”
Lyra shrugged.  “Because that’s most of what princesshood is, and what I was talking about.”
“...  Oh.  Then I guess you’re right.”
“Ahh…” Hagrid muttered.
Lyra glanced up at him.  “We’re old friends,” she stated, by way of explanation.
“Old friends?” Twilight asked promptly.  “I’d say we’re current friends!”
“Twilight, how long have we been friends?”
Twilight opened her mouth to speak, paused, and closed it again, counting on her fingers.  After a few seconds, she shrugs.  “I…  I don’t know, it’s been too long.”
“My point exactly.”  She grinned up at Hagrid, before turning back to Twilight.  “Eff wye eye, depending on when you consider our friendship to have started, it’s anywhere from twenty three to twenty seven years ago.”
Twilight gave her a level-lidded glare.  “Really?”
Lyra shrugged.  “What?  Photographic memory can be useful.”  Scowl.  “Sometimes.”  She glanced up at Hagrid.  “More often than not, it’s dead depressing.”
Twilight facepalmed.  “Rrrright.  Forgot about that.”  She looked up at Hagrid.  “Soo, ahh…”
“Shall we, ah, go somewhere a little more private?” Hagrid asked.
Lyra promptly bowed genially.  “Lead the way,” she offered- while Hagrid suddenly noticed that neither girl was wearing the helmets and various other pads they’d had on earlier.
They must have put them in the same place as the skateboards.
“Ahh,” Hagrid muttered, glancing around for someplace suitable.  Normally, the introduction was supposed to happen in the student’s home, not in a public park.
Lyra then solved his quandary rather simply.  “Or we can set up some privacy spells in a corner of the parking lot.”
“Ahh, yes, let’s do that, then,” he stated, before leading the way back to the parking lot, to the corner he’d parked his motorcycle in.
Once there, it took the girls only a couple of seconds of strange gesticulations to set up their privacy spells.  “There, that should keep anyone from realizing what we’re up to,” Lyra indicated, before glancing back at the skatepark.  “We’ve been keeping our magic down to magician trick and ‘sleight-of-hand’ levels, so far- since the general population we’ve seen doesn’t have it…  or seem to know it exists at all.”
“Ahh,” Hagrid muttered.  “Yeah, about that.  I don’t know that I’m the right one to tell you this, but…
“Well, wizardkind is kinda secret from the muggles- what we call non-magical folk.”
Twilight nodded.  “So, magic in general is being kept secret from those not capable of it?”
“Er, yeah.  Statute of Secrecy.  There’s some exceptions, but they’re mostly for relatives of a witch or wizard.”  He scratched his beard with one finger.  “And with the, er, isolated magic thing…  The Ministry o’ Magic watches for rogue magic use- including any underage stuff.”
Lyra ahhhed understandingly.  “So maybe that is what that ambient flux detection network we saw was all about.  Wouldn’t be very effective against any but the most powerful of our spells, though, being innate in nature.”  She rubbed her chin.  “It’d detect any kind of self-powered enchanting we might do, though.”  Shrug.  “Our Gate draws its power from our side, not this side, so it won’t show up on that network.  Good thing, too, as we don’t yet know if it’ll be safely possible for someone not from our side to come to our side.”
“But anyways,” Twilight injected, before gesturing for Hagrid to go on.
Hagrid nervously fingered the top of the pocket the Princess’ letter was in; Professor McGonagall had informed him that Lyra’s reply had come in a different letter, which he has in that neighboring pocket.  He read Lyra’s letter earlier, though- it’s a very straightforward ‘yes we’re coming’ message, for her and someone called Bonbon, with no additional details.  “Er…  for the, ah, negotiations…”  He scowled.  “You need to go to Gringotts for the currency negotiation, the rest is just shopping, so…”

Lyra looked at Twilight.  “So, if we just go get our stuff, and negotiate that currency exchange with Gringotts, then we’ll know where to take everyone else to get their stuff.”  She rubbed her chin.  “Leaving only one unknown, where we take ‘em on September First.”  She glanced up at Hagrid.  “But that can be taken care of later, right?”
> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took Hagrid a good two hours to get to the Leaky Cauldron.  The two girls had willingly hopped into the sidecar on his motorcycle, once he mentioned how far it was- then he’d flown most of the way, having made his takeoff and landing outside of either city…  and under cover of the invisibility charm Dumbledore had given the bike.  They seemed to be fascinated, briefly, with the motorcycle itself- Twilight especially.  Lyra had said something about books to keep her from poking at it.
When he finally parked his motorcycle near the Leaky Cauldron, the two had started chatting about something he couldn’t understand in the slightest.  “Alright, we gotta walk now,” he announced, as he dismounted.
“Got it,” the girls chorused, hopping out of the sidecar- one with a backflip, the other with an eye roll.
“What?” Lyra asked Twilight.  “It’s not like there’s any rules against it.”
Hagrid sighed.  “C’mon,” he instructed, leading them out of the alley and down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron.
The two girls continued chatting on the way- though this time, it seemed Twilight was asking Lyra questions about stuff on the street, rather than the two discussing something obscure.
“Ahh, here we are,” Hagrid finally states.  “The Leaky Cauldron.  It’s a famous place.”
“...  Huh,” Lyra muttered, looking at it.  “Never woulda-!”  She broke off, making a quick step to snatch Twilight by the arm before she could wander too far away.  “Twilight, stop!  We can come back for that later!”
Twilight turned to Lyra.  “But-!”
“Sorry, Twilight, but we don’t have any money they’ll accept- and your royal status means nothing here.  We won’t be able to get any of them right now.  All you’ll manage to do is annoy the shopkeepers.”
Twilight glowered at her, but relented.
“Besides,” Lyra muttered.  “That’s a standard- er,” she glanced briefly at Hagrid, “muggle bookstore.  It won’t have anything on magic in it- and I’m sure there’s one of those where we’re going.”
Hagrid heaved a sigh, and guided the girls wordlessly into the pub.  He could already feel the burn in his legs from chasing one or both of them away from the Forbidden Forest throughout the coming year.
Tom, the barkeeper, looked up as he entered.  “Ahh, Hagrid!”  Then he paused, glancing down at the girls.  “Business again?”
Hagrid nodded tiredly.  “Yeah.  Got me getting ‘em all this year, an’ there’s quite a few, too.”
Meanwhile, Twilight was examining something in midair that nobody else could see, and Lyra was scoping out the pub- and waving cheerfully at anyone that looked at her long enough, including Tom.
Tom smiled back at Lyra.  “Well,” he muttered, looking back up at Hagrid.  “It sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.  Good luck!”
Hagrid nodded again, and ushered the two girls across the pub, towards Diagon Alley.
“...  To the backyard of a pub?” Twilight asked, once they emerged into the courtyard.
Hagrid didn’t smile, took a deep breath, and spoke.  “Alright, remember:  Two up, three across.”  He tapped the brick with his umbrella.
Lyra burst out laughing.
Hagrid looked at her funny.
Twilight, after watching the portal open, also looked at Lyra- while pulling her through, after Hagrid.  “What’s so funny?”
Lyra stifled her laughter, grinning like a loon.  “It’s a gate in the backyard,” she stated simply.
Twilight stared at her for a few seconds, evidently thinking hard about something…  then she spoke.  “I don’t get it.”
“It’s a Gate in the backyard,” Lyra repeated, emphasizing the word and only barely containing her giggles.
Twilight blinked, then her eyes went wide, and she let out a burst of laughter herself.
Hagrid took a deep breath, and let it out.  “Welcome to Diagon Alley.”
The two girls stopped laughing immediately, looking straight into each other’s eyes.
“Diagon,” Lyra began.
“Alley,” Twilight finished.
“Diagonally!” they declared together.
“Wonder if there’s a place called Dragonally,” Lyra mused, drawing an amused snort from Twilight.  Then she shrugged.  “We could probably reach it, if we opened a gate in Spike’s backyard.”
Twilight let out a snort of laughter.
“Anyways,” Lyra muttered, looking back up at Hagrid, who was staring uncomprehendingly at them, “Lead the way?  Our supplies won’t buy themselves, usually.”
“Usually?” Hagrid asked, blinking.
Lyra nodded.  “Yeah.  I’ve known a few spellsmiths to experiment with self-purchasing supplies.  None successful, though, that I’m aware of- but it’s still theoretically possible, and we don’t know what you might have in this world.  None of our scouts have found any of your spellsmiths- but that might be because our Gate-in-the-backyard came out in the muggle world.”
Hagrid stared for another couple seconds, before looking quickly away.  “Oh.  Uhh…  This way.”  He led them towards Gringotts.  The girls fell in behind him and, after a few seconds, started chatting animatedly again.  They kept pointing at various buildings, signs, and so on, around the Alley- and discussing everything in terms that sounded like utter gibberish to him.
Finally, he spotted Gringotts up ahead- and announced it, gesturing slightly.  “Gringotts.”
Lyra responded instantly, looking forwards at it.  “Wow, fancy.”
Twilight answered her.  “Very fancy.  That’s something on the level of most of the Canterlot nobles.”
Lyra nodded.  “Yeah.  I hope their Vault is either offsite, or very, very well protected…  or both.”
Hagrid paused.  “Er…  Don’t let them hear you say that.  Very proud creatures, Goblins.”  He gestured towards the door.  “And there’s the first one.”
“Huh,” Lyra muttered, putting her hand to her chin.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen something- or someone- quite like that before.”
Twilight stayed silent, so Hagrid continued.  “Wizard’s bank.  Safest place in the world for anything you want to keep safe- except, perhaps, Hogwarts.”
“Must have some pretty impressive security,” Lyra muttered, before looking over at Twilight.  “I wonder how it compares to Celestia’s Vault?”
Twilight snorted.  “Really?  You’re going to compare it against that?”
“What?  I suppose I could compare it to the security of our local bank, but that’s about the same as all the muggle banks- and bank robbers are a thing in this world.”  She ignored Twilight’s alarmed gasp, continuing uninterrupted.  “So, for it to qualify as the ‘safest place in the world’, it simply must be comparable to Celestia’s Vault- which is rather well-known as the ‘safest place in the world’ for anything she wants to keep safe.  Only, until now, neither world has known of each other- so, neither ‘safest in the world’ includes the other, and I’m curious how they compare- which one, if either, can honestly include the other.”  She put her hand to her chin again.  “Then of course, I’m curious how a school could possibly be a safer place than a vault.”
They were plenty close enough to the doors for the guarding goblin to take notice at that point.  Hagrid watched him out of the corner of his eye- but, aside from looking a bit put out at the girl’s final comment (though not at her in particular), he didn’t do anything unusual.  It was fairly well known amongst those in the know- Dumbledore, the heads of house, and himself- that the goblins weren’t exactly impressed with how Hogwarts was harder to penetrate than their bank.  By his understanding, they’d been working to fix that deficiency as quickly as they could- and to their credit, they grew well ahead of their competition, and already enjoyed a monopoly on wizard banking and safekeeping; Dumbledore didn’t exactly offer to store people’s gold at Hogwarts.
Then, they reached the second set of front doors- the silver ones, with the inscription.  Hagrid paused, to let the girls read it.
“Nice poem,” Lyra muttered, and looked towards one of the guards.  “With a nice, strong message, too.”
“Uhh…  What’s it say?” Twilight asked her.  Hagrid blinked, looking down at her.
Lyra looked at Twilight with a strange expression.  “What-?  Didn’t-!  Wait.”  A pause, then she facepalmed.  “We forgot the written component of the translation spell.  Just a sec.”  She put her hands on Twilight’s shoulders, and closed her eyes.
The goblins on either side of the door looked at her.
Hagrid looked as well.  “Ahh…”
“Okay, that should do it,” Lyra announced suddenly, withdrawing her arms.
Twilight looked up at the door.  “Ahh, much better.  Thanks!”
Lyra looked back up at it, and back at Twilight.  “So, why didn’t you tell me earlier?  There were plenty of signs at the park.”
Twilight reached the bottom of the missive on the doors before answering.  “I thought they’d be gibberish to you too.”  She looked down at Lyra.  “Speaking of which, if we forgot the written component, how’d you understand it?”
“Back when I was the only one, I didn’t use spells on the Gate, I used spells directly on me.  And I only used a translation spell for the first three days- a lingual absorption spell on the third one ended the need for such.”
One of the Goblin guards caught Hagrid’s eye and bowed his head gravely, almost apologetically, as Twilight responded.
“Lingual-!?  You got that working?”
Nod.  “Yep, that was when I got it working.  Very painful, though, and takes almost six hours to complete.”  Scowl.  “Speaking of which, we’re going to have to adjust the translation spell on the Gate anyways- make it a host-drawing, self-renewing spell.  That would self-cancel once knowledge of the language involved was acquired, or upon return.”
Twilight scowled too.  “Why don’t you tell me about these things?”
“I was planning to.  After I’d found something from this side to prank you with.”  She grinned.  “Then the owls came, and I didn’t need to.”
Twilight gave Lyra an irritated shove, but the other girl cartwheeled out of the way- which seemed to anger Twilight even more.  “And what about that?  Where did you learn it?”
“Ahh…  Another spell.  This one took over twenty-four hours to complete, though- you mighta noticed when I stayed home ‘sick’ for two days?  Yeah…  that was the gymnastic spell.  I didn’t want to have to rely on my magic if I got into a sticky situation.”  She rubs the back of her head.  “Which, ahh, did happen, once.  Pretty sure it was local law enforcement, and I think they thought I was a runaway.”
“...  Oh,” Twilight muttered irritably.  “So you figured that out too.  Tell me about these things!  Please!”
Lyra shrugged.  “I was planning on telling you about it too.  Once I found something.”  She then promptly dodged a second shove from Twilight, with a well-timed backflip.
“Come on, you two,” Hagrid groaned, giving up on the idea of keeping them out of the forest, so much as reducing their time in the forest.  He’d have to erect a fifty-foot wall to keep Lyra out…  and even then.
The two goblins both gave him relieved looks before they bowed all three of them into the bank proper.  Fortunately for Hagrid, his statement- and the inside of the bank- seemed to have distracted them from their quarrel.
> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Madam Malkin looked up when the door to her shop chimed again.  There was nobody in her shop right now- a rather infrequent occurrence, at that time of year.  The Hogwarts letters had to have been sent out a few days ago; there had been a steady stream of Hogwarts students coming in- somewhat noticeably fewer first-years than normal, and at that point, only a couple upper-year students had needed new robes.  Funny, there were usually at least three times as many of those.
Immediately upon seeing them, she figured the two girls entering her shop would probably make her top ten list of strangest customers on their looks alone.  They were both Hogwarts first-year age, and wearing color-coordinated muggle clothing.  That itself wasn’t all that unusual; about five out of every ten years, she’d get a set of twins, and they would tend to do that.  The truly unusual part about them would be their hair.  They were both wearing muggle clothes, but their hair was very clearly magically done; there was no way a muggle dye would hold those vivid colors so neatly separated in the wind outside- and those colors were most definitely not natural.
One had wavy blue and white hair, with the division between the colors visible- and sharply defined- all the way down to where the tip of her hair peeked out from behind her waist.  The other had long, straight, and dark blue hair, with pink and purple stripes all the way down it and a split at the front that gave it the appearance of a solid wood wig that someone had hit with an axe.  It still moved smoothly when she did, though, so that clearly wasn’t actually the case- even though that split stayed, her hair moving almost like it was made of fabric.
No adults came in with them, she noticed.  A quick glance out the window explained it- Hagrid was walking towards Fortescue’s.  He didn’t like entering, as his bulk would almost always knock something over in her small shop, so he’d developed a habit of sending whatever muggleborn first-year he happened to be escorting in…  and going to get them ice cream while he waited.
“Hogwarts, dears?” she greeted.
“Ahh, yes,” the blue-haired girl nodded.
“I take it you already know what we need for that?” the wavy-haired girl asked curiously.
“Yes, I do,” she smiled, guiding them to the stools in the back of the shop.  “Just one at a time, please,” she instructed- and, as the blue-and-white-haired girl hopped up on the stool, she made a quick guess as to the size that would fit her and pulled it out, before slipping it over her head.  Unlike some fairly rare muggleborns she’s had in here, that have no idea what she’s doing, the girl cooperated fully, quickly running her arms into the sleeves and holding them out for her.
Then the other girl spoke up.  “Huh.  We ought to be able to get away with just one or two- I imagine Rarity can make-!”
Madam Malkin was in the middle of an involuntary wince at the girl’s willingness to go someplace else when the first interrupted, looking down from the stool.
“Absolutely not!  Madam Malkin here is a tailor, a profession unique to this world.  Her job is to take this no-doubt mass-produced base and make it fit as well as possible…  such that, when you get a bunch of Hogwarts students right next to each other, they all look the same.  Can you imagine Rarity being willing to make fifty of the same thing?”
“Of course not, Lyra!  I’d only be asking her to make three!”
“Twilight, can you imagine Rarity being willing to make even three of the same plain thing?  Hay, even one would be torture to her!  And that’s three…  what, per each equestrian coming?  Which would push it to over ten thousand of effectively the same thing!”
The blue-haired girl- apparently Twilight- opened and closed her mouth a few times.  “...  Well…  Okay.  But I’m sure we could find a tailor in Equestria.”
Lyra sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Twilight, tailors are like computer scientists.  They don’t exist in Equestria, I’ve checked.”
Twilight blinked.  “Computer scientists?  What’s that?”
“A profession on this side.  I’ll have to introduce you to computer science at some point.”  A scowl.  “I haven’t seen anything computer-driven in Diagon Alley, so I’m starting to think it’s just the muggles.”
Madam Malkin let the silence fall for several seconds before speaking up.  “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of Equestria before,” she began.
Lyra chuckled good-naturedly.  “I can’t say I’m surprised.  Equestria has been- and still is, actually- magically isolated from your world.  Until a week and a half ago, that is, when I opened a gateway to connect the two.  Then a few days ago, a bunch of owls made their way…”  She gasped suddenly.  “I almost forgot!  Do you know about how many new students Hogwarts gets every year?”
“Hmm?” Madam Malkin muttered, finishing up with the lower hem of the girl’s robes and moving up to one of the sleeves.  “I usually see around forty first-years each year, and often a hundred to one fifty upper-year students.  Why?”
“...  Oh.  Then, ahh, I might recommend finding some seasonal help…  and stocking extra, and fast.  We’ve already confirmed over two thousand Equestrian students this year, and they’ll all be coming here for their robes.”
She froze after that, for a second, before resuming.  “Two…  Thousand?”
Twilight nodded.  “Yep.  And every last one of them was invited directly by Hogwarts.”
Lyra nodded as well.  “The latest estimate for the final count, at the acceptance deadline, is anywhere between eight thousand…  and about eighteen thousand, depending on who the owls get to.”  She sighs.  “And, if we assume that the Gate is still open for next year and it resumes sending invitations to the ones that couldn’t be invited by the deadline this year, and so on, I think the estimate is that it would take around eight years to invite everyone eligible, after which point it would- theoretically- drop below the maximum, and start inviting everyone as they became eligible, as I imagine it has done on this side for years.”
“I hope Hogwarts knows what they’re doing,” Twilight muttered.
Madam Malkin chuckled briefly, stepping back to get a better look at Lyra; she’d finished the sleeves.  “That should be you done, my dear,” she indicated.
Lyra promptly lowered her arms to a normal position, and gave her robes a twirl.  “Nice, I like it.”  She then slipped them off, handing them to Madam Malkin, and stepped off the stool.  “Will you need to pin the other two, or will the one work as a template?”
“It’ll work as a template,” Madam Malkin informed her, accepting the pinned robes and laying them on the counter.
As she did so, Lyra turned towards Twilight.  “Your turn, then.”
Madam Malkin smiled, making her initial size guess- she was mighty well practiced with that- as the girl trotted up to and stepped onto the stool, before approaching to start preparing the robes.  Twilight cooperated just as fully as Lyra had.
Twilight’s fitting went silently, though it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.  Both girls, despite Lyra’s declaration that tailors didn’t exist in their homeland, clearly had some not insignificant experience with being fitted.  They did both seem amused, though, like it wasn’t quite going down as they were used to- which, if she was honest with herself, she wasn’t surprised by, either.  Lyra did say they had designers, and both of them seemed to know this ‘Rarity’ rather well.
Then, it finally came time for her to draw her wand, finalize the hems of both robes, duplicate the measurements onto two more robes and a cloak each, and magically apply names to the labels on all of the above.  Seeing the two girls staring unblinkingly at her while she had her wand out was…  unnerving, so she did her best not to look at them until she was finished, and pocketed her wand.
“...  Huh,” Twilight muttered.  “I…  I don’t think I’ve ever seen ambient magic used that efficiently before.”
Lyra put a hand to her chin.  “The magic bond mighta been part of that, but I want to say at least some of that efficiency wasn’t specific to that bond.”
Twilight looked at her.  “Wait, there’s a magic bond?”
“Yeah.  There’s a symbiotic thaumic bond between her and her wand.  Very low-key, but it peaked while it was in her hand- so it’s probably something that either only she can use, or that she can get the most utility out of.”
“Ahh, something like that,” Madam Malkin muttered, packaging the two girls’ robes separately and making her way to the register.  “I’m not familiar with how it works, but I know you’ll never get as good of results with another wizard’s wand.  Ollivander will probably tell you more than I can without asking, whenever you get your wands.”
Lyra held up a bulging pouch she almost certainly hadn’t been holding a minute ago, shaking it slightly to make the coinage inside tinkle.  “Sounds good to me.  So, how much?”  The pouch looked to hold at least a couple hundred galleons.
She named the total…  Then, with a distinctive crash that shook the shop, Twilight suddenly had a very large bag of coins on the floor next to her.
“Heh heh,” Twilight muttered, opening the top to pull out a single golden galleon; the total was just over a galleon.
“Ahh…” Madam Malkin muttered.
“We’ll each pay for our own robes and stuff,” Lyra chuckled.  “We’re shopping together, but buying separately.”  She glanced at Twilight’s bag.  “And Princess, I still think you didn’t need to hunt up the biggest bag you could find and stuff it with as much of the treasury as you could fit.”
“Hey, it’s not the biggest I could find!”
“Only because the biggest wouldn’t fit in your pocket.”
Twilight blushed, looking away, while Madam Malkin silently counted out their change.
As Lyra accepted her change, she spoke to Twilight again.  “How about this:  We can use my gold for the rest of our purchases today, it should be enough.  So long as you repay me- from that- at the end.”
Finally, both Lyra’s pouch and Twilight’s bag- the latter of which would have fit both of the girls, had it not been full of gold- disappeared tracelessly, and they thanked her and headed out of her shop, carrying their new clothes.
Madam Malkin let out a small sigh, watching them as they went.  Definitely the strangest two customers she’d ever had.  If she knew one thing, it was that Hogwarts was in for the year of their lives.
…  And Lyra’s packaged robes just vanished into thin air as they reached the door, Twilight’s following suit as they made it outside.

She smiled.  Hopefully, the students won’t be the only ones learning at Hogwarts this year, and strange abilities like that could then be shared across wizardkind.
> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hagrid determinedly suppressed his worry as he led the two girls to Ollivander’s.  He’d suspected, when they emerged unladen from Madam Malkins, that they’d put their new robes in the same place as their skateboards- and had asked to make sure they had their robes.  They’d both confirmed, so he’d given them their ice creams and started leading them calmly to the next store on the list- for parchment and quills.
Only, when he’d gotten there, he’d found out they both already had an extensive supply of both of the above, though they appreciated knowing where the local supplier was.
After that had been Flourish and Blotts…  which was fairly uneventful, all told.  Twilight had wanted to buy a stack of books thrice her own height, but Lyra had stopped her, saying it wouldn’t fit in her pocket…  and that they could come back to buy half the bookshop later, once everyone got their stuff for Hogwarts.  The store attendant had been mildly alarmed when she said that, especially when Twilight evidently made plans to do exactly that.
Then they’d headed to the potion equipment store, for their cauldrons, scales, and gloves.  Why Lyra had explicitly asked if dragons could talk, Hagrid couldn’t figure out- and neither, apparently, could the attendant that served the girl.  While they were there, the girls had discussed some things that sounded enough like potion making techniques to Hagrid for him to be fairly certain that Professor Snape would just love to have them in his class…  and not necessarily in a good way.
The astronomists’ had been next, where they’d talked about the kinds of telescopes on display…  and the kinds available in Equestria.  Apparently, Twilight had a fifty-foot telescope back home- something which had alarmed the shopkeeper.
Then the apothecary, which both of them had explored thoroughly…  without touching anything.  Not unlike most muggleborns, though with better self-control.
Then, because Lyra had wanted an owl, they’d gone to Eeylops Owl Emporium…  and both he and the proprietor had been driven a little crazy by how they seemed to be chatting with the owls.  So of course, the cage for Lyra’s new owl had vanished tracelessly, while Alto himself- she’d already named him- rode on her shoulder.
He took a deep breath as he came even with the store, and turned towards it.  “Here we are.  Ollivander’s,” he informed them.  “Only place for wands, Ollivander’s.”





Garrick Ollivander looked up from his worktable in the back of his shop when the door chime went off.  He had customers.  Fortunately, he was just selecting the materials for his next wand, not actually making anything; he’s been expecting a large number of customers, and he really didn’t like putting a half-made wand into stasis or forcing a customer to wait until he finished it.
He rose smoothly, and made his way to the front of his shop.  He’d had a much lower customer density than he was used to, for the Hogwarts invitation period.  Usually, he would see between forty and fifty-five customers over about two weeks following the letters- and, at that point, he’d seen exactly six in just over a quarter of that time.
He paused briefly when he spotted the customers.  One he recognized- Hagrid.  He had been here only a few days ago, guiding a nervous muggleborn boy and his mother through the alley.  Now, he had two girls and no adults with him, suggesting one of the rare cases of a muggleborn witch or wizard being thrown out of the family upon receipt of their letter.
Perhaps the strangest part about the two girls wasn’t how their hair seemed to defy the laws of physics as he knew them, but the owl riding on the blue-and-white-haired girl’s shoulder…  with no cage or luggage in sight.  Compounded with that, both girls seemed to be studying the shelves from their place next to Hagrid (who had leaned tiredly against the wall to wait this time), as if there were something there to learn, rather than with the normal curiosity.  As he made his silent approach, he picked out a few words they were muttering to each other.
It seemed the lighter-haired one, with the owl, was having more success in whatever studying they were doing.  She was saying something about ‘bonds waiting to happen, but none complete’.
He stepped into clear view.  “Good afternoon.”
Both girls gave a small start, turning to look at him.  The owl spread its wings partway for balance, before refolding them.  Hagrid opened his eyes.
“Good afternoon,” the owl-toting girl greeted him in turn.  “This is where we get our wands, right?”
He was immediately taken aback; her cheerful, almost happy-go-lucky attitude was quite unusual for anyone entering his shop, let alone anyone that had been disowned.  It was making him curious what their situation really was, or if it was just that they were a little bit crazy.  “Who do I have the pleasure of working with today?” he asked.  They didn’t look like they came from any of the pure-blooded families.
The owl-toting girl answered him with the same, unusual cheeriness.  “I’m Lyra Heartstrings, and this is Twilight Sparkle.”  She gestured towards the other girl.  “We’re here to get our wands?”  She looked up at the shop.  “And, ahh, probably warn you about what’s coming, too.”
He paused, raising an eyebrow.  “Oh?”
“Yeah.  We come from a land that’s magically isolated from the rest of the world…  and about a week and a half ago, we opened a gate through that barrier.  We’re just the first two…  and we’ve already confirmed over two thousand to follow, this year.”
He blinked.  “How many total?”
Lyra shrugged, while Twilight spoke.  “We don’t know yet.  The estimates for the final count range from eight to eighteen thousand right now.”
“...  Ahh,” he muttered.  It certainly sounded like he’d have a busy month and a half- though fortunately, since he had about a hundred and thirty five thousand wands for sale at that moment, he needn’t worry about running out…  this year.  It did sound like he’d be at risk of running out in the coming years, though- and it was distinctly possible he could run out of time to serve them all.  “Shall we get started?”
“Yep!” Lyra answered cheerfully.
“Ahh…  How about you first?”
She grinned.  “Why not?”  Then she looked up at her owl.  “Think you could ride Twilight’s shoulder for a few minutes, Alto?”
“Hoo.”
“He might need my shoulder to be unoccupied, for his measuring tape.”
“Hoo.”
“Yeah, I know.  Please?”
“Hoo.”  The owl- Alto- spread its wings and made a quick hop to Twilight’s shoulder.
Ollivander blinked.  “You can talk to owls?”
She nodded.  “Yeah.  I think it’s a part of the magic we have, unique to our…  civilization, on the other side of our Gate.  The same magic that makes it possible for us to safely pass that gate, actually.”  She glanced up at Alto.  “I’ve noticed that the owls seem to possess a different form of that same magic, allowing them to pass safely.  Good thing, too, with how many Hogwarts letters needed to cross.”
Twilight scowled at her.
“...  Ahh,” Ollivander muttered.  “So, which is your wand arm?”
“My wand arm…  That’d be my dominant arm, right?”
“Dominant arm?” Twilight asked, blinking.
“Yes,” Ollivander nodded.
“Ahh…  Um, I don’t know, to be honest.  Probably ambidextrous.”  She shrugs.  “Dominant arms aren’t nearly as prominent- or common- where we come from.”
“Really?” Twilight asked.
“Alright then,” Ollivander smiled.  It wasn’t often he got an ambidextrous customer- fortunately, they were often easier to find the right match for.  “If you could hold your arms out for me?  Yes, just like that.”  He drew his measuring tape, and set it to work.
Lyra glanced back at Twilight.  “Almost everyone in this world seems to have very prominent dominant arms- such that ambidextrousness is actually rare.  From what I’ve seen so far, the wizarding community is no different.”
“Wow,” Twilight muttered.
Ollivander smiled to himself, and started his normal spiel to the girls, pulled down a few boxes, stopped the measuring tape, and started trying wands.  He did find it interesting that Lyra had to ask if the unicorns could talk.  He’d told her they couldn’t, but that the same was technically true for owls, so he didn’t know if they could talk to unicorns.  Both girls had, for some reason, found that funny.
Hagrid had then mentioned that they’d asked before if dragons could talk, and asked them if they were going to ask about phoenixes too.
Lyra’s answer had been straightforward, and confused both men to no end.  “Nah, those can’t talk where we come from.  Very intelligent, though.”


Eventually, both girls had wands- Alto had hopped back to Lyra’s shoulder as soon as she was done- and had paid from a small pouch stuffed full of coins that Lyra had gotten from somewhere.
“Hmm,” Lyra scowled, her pouch vanishing into thin air, and her wand following suit- just like Twilight’s.  She scanned the shop visually.  “That took about seven minutes, for the two of us.  If we assume that’s about representative of all of our people, and that he works eight hour days with customers back to back, about how long would it take?”
Ollivander winced; that would be a lot of work.
“Well,” Twilight scowled.  “Depending on which estimate we look at, it ranges anywhere from two months to five months.”
“And September First is in about a month and a half.”  Lyra scowled.  “Hmm…  You know, I’d hate to ask this of her, but do you think Starlight would be willing to help with that?”
Twilight rubbed her chin.  “Probably, yeah.  We’d want to make sure there was someone to help her with, you know…”
Lyra shrugged.  “So we just stick one of your friends in each of her first waves, and trust her for the rest.”
Twilight nodded.  “Good point.  And she’d probably be willing to help, depending…”
“Hmm…”  Lyra looked skywards.  “...  Yep, she’s accepted her offer.”
“Really?  Then yeah, she’d most likely be willing to help.”
“With…  what?” Ollivander asked.
“Mm?” Lyra asked, turning to him.  “Oh, spreading the load.  Starlight is good with time manipulation, so with her help, we could have our people coming in here to get wands in manageable waves from now through, what, February?”  She glanced briefly at Twilight, who nodded.  “And yet all have our wands by September.”
“...  Ahh.”
> Chapter 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tom already knew something was up by the time the two girls sat down at his bar.  Hagrid had shown them through Diagon Alley the day before, so presumably, they were Hogwarts students.
Of course, hardly fifteen minutes had passed after they left, with Hagrid, back to the muggle world…  before they had appeared, as if by apparition, alongside some twenty or thirty more, also funny-haired, first-years…  Which, he’d noticed, most of them seemed to be female.  They’d then headed to Diagon Alley as a group, and he hadn’t seen them come back at all that night.
Now, they just appeared out of thin air, looked around contemplatively, and headed straight for the bar.
It was still early in the morning, so aside from the morning rush he dealt with fifteen minutes prior, the pub was pretty empty.  He stepped peaceably over, somehow already knowing that these two would be his most important customers for the entire day, and greeted them.  “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” the blue-and-white-haired one greeted him in turn.  “I’m curious, what would you recommend for a drink while on the job?”
That brought him pause.  People normally stopped by to unwind after work, not during…  and usually got at least a little drunk.  Which was probably not a very good idea for someone that still had work to do, so he’d need to find something non-alcoholic, but still with plenty of kick in it.  Something that would provide the relief so many came to his pub to find, yet without the side-effects.
He glanced sideways at the small shelf full of virgin menus that he hadn’t touched in years.  Perhaps…  Yes.  Butterbeer might have only produced a mild release effect compared to some of his stronger drinks, but it was plenty strong in its own right- and did not, unlike so many of his drinks, rely on its mild alcohol content to achieve that effect.  As such, he figured, he had a solution.
“I’ll have to admit, I don’t get very many people coming in to drink before their work is done,” he began.
The other girl, with a paired pink and purple stripe in her dark blue hair, let out a snort of laughter.
He grinned.  “But I believe I might have something that fits the bill:  Virgin butterbeer.”
The blue-haired girl raised an eyebrow, but the brighter-haired girl spoke.  “Huh.  Does it taste any different from the non-virgin version?”
He shook his head.  “A regular butterbeer only contains a half a standard drink of alcohol per tankard, so it’s not missing much.”
“Hmm,”  the girl looked at her darker-haired companion, then back at him.  “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of butterbeer before.  Can I get one of those virgin ones, then?”
“And I’d like a regular Butterbeer, please,” the darker-haired companion smiled.
“...  Okay then,” he answered.  “Coming right up.”
It took him about a minute to prepare and supply the two foaming tankards.
When he returned five minutes later, having served two other customers, he found both tankards empty…  and both girls watching him almost expectantly.
“Ahh,” he muttered uncertainly, looking at them.
“Soo, how much do we owe you?” the lighter-haired girl smiled.
“Ah.”  He glanced down at the drinks, totalling the memorized prices in his head rather than going back to review their tab; that had been all they ordered.  “That would be twenty knuts.”
“Twenty knuts?” the darker-haired girl asked, sounding almost shocked, before turning to her companion.  “I’m really starting to think that the exchange rate might not be as fair as we thought.”
The lighter-haired girl shrugged in response.  “Me too.  By a margin of, at a guess, an order of magnitude.  But the rate’s set in stone for five years, so it’s not like we can go back and fix it.”  She pulled out a small, bulging pouch, and casually flipped a silver sickle onto the counter, looking back up at him.  “Go ahead and keep the change.  And, ahh…  Tom, was it?”
He let the coin sit on the counter for the time being.  “Yes, Miss…?”  He trailed off, inviting her to provide a name.
“Oh, sorry.  I’m Lyra Heartstrings, and this is Princess Twilight Sparkle.  We’re both accomplished mages from another world, and first-year students at Hogwarts.”  He gasped- that would explain their apparition earlier- but she ignored it.  “Anyways, we’ve got an estimated nine to eighteen thousand more coming after us, with over twenty-five hundred confirmed, and having a local base of operations would be…  Advantageous, to say the least, to helping things run smoothly.  Would it be okay for us to use your pub as such?”
“Ahh…  What would that…?”
“Basically, a few of our team members would set themselves up in here, from morning through evening each day.  The rest of the team would guide the rest of our people through Diagon Alley in groups, managed by the members set up in here, to get everyone the stuff they’ll need for their first year at Hogwarts.  In the meantime, we’d have a second team that would base themselves in here all along, to intervene if something happened.”  She shrugged.  “We could expect both teams to rack up a truly enormous tab- we would want it all on the same one- but with how much gold the Princess here extracted from the treasury, and how lopsided the exchange rate ended up being, we’ll have no problem paying it off- and as a matter of fact, I figure we can even pay a hundred and fifty percent for everything, too, in exchange for quote ‘basing rights’.”  She grinned at Twilight, using air quotes for her last two words.
Twilight rolled her eyes.  “Why must you joke around with everything, Lyra?”
Lyra shrugged.  “Why not?  I mean, like I just told him, we’re both accomplished mages.  Hogwarts won’t offer us anything we can integrate directly into our intrinsic magics, as it’s too different- and, I rather doubt it’ll offer us anything we can’t already do by other means.  So, why are we here in the first place, but to explore, try it out, and have fun?  Possibly, eventually, create open trade between our nations?”
“Lyra!”
“Or, how about, why did I open that gate in the first place?”
“Lyra, stop!  We’re here for a lot more than just fun!  You know the Ear-  er…”  She glanced briefly at Tom.  “You know that they will undoubtedly benefit from a Hogwarts education!  They’ll be able to use active magic for the first time in history!”
Lyra shrugged.  “Yeah, I know.”  She looked up at Tom.  “In our nation, the population is divided right about evenly into three tribes- the Raeth, Aethr, and Etrah tribes, specifically.  All three have magic, but the Etrah tribe’s magic is all passive, and the Aethr tribe’s magic is all subconscious.  The Raeth tribe- to which we both belong, alongside every other mage from our world- is the only one capable of what we call ‘active magic’, being consciously controlled magic.  Simply put, if you wouldn’t call it Accidental Magic, we would call it Active Magic.  The Hogwarts letters have been going indiscriminately to all three tribes, so presumably, a wand can bypass that limitation.”
Twilight rolled her eyes.  “Though, it’s a bit less of a bypass, since wand magic is intrinsically different from our magic- starting all the way back at where the power comes from!”
Lyra nodded.  “Yeah.  That’s why I expect all three tribes to be equally capable when it comes to wand magic.”  She shrugged.  “Pre-reform Starlight would be happy.”  Then she scowled.  “Discord, on the other hand, might be disinterested.  Though, he did RSVP, soo…”
“Wait, what?  Discord is coming!?”
“Yeah, he accepted his offer.  Exactly how much, ahh, stuff he does really depends on what Hogwarts already has to offer.”
“Celestia help us.”  Twilight put her head in her hands.
“Hey, I don’t think it’ll be that bad.  I mean, they have talking pictures and mirrors.  I’d be willing to bet he’ll love those- I’m sure they’re great for having a conversation with someone long gone, but could you imagine being unable to save an amazing moment, or never being sure that you were getting a faithful reflection out of your mirror?”
Twilight’s head snapped up again.  “Ahh…  That brings back memories, actually.”
“I know, that’s something he did for us once.  Theirs are a little more consistent- and all over the place.  Personally, it strikes me as a response to needing to feel like they live in a magical society, and so making everything around them magical.  If the pictures got caught up in that…”
Both girls spoke together.  “What else did?”
Twilight nodded slowly.  “Discord’s probably going to have fun finding the answer to that.”
Lyra grinned.  “Of course he will.”  She glanced up at Tom.  “Is there some kind of conflict between the wizards and the- you call ‘em ‘muggles’, right?- that might explain it?”
Tom blinked.  “Not…  Well, yeah.  A lot of the pure-blooded wizarding families believe muggleborn or half-blood witches and wizards to be inferior…  and muggles themselves, even worse.”  He shuddered.  “You’d think we didn’t just have a huge wizarding war against one such muggle-hater end just ten years ago!”
Lyra let out a snort of laughter.  “Well, next time someone starts a war like that, sic the muggles on him.  They may not have magic, but I’ve seen a bit of what they do have- and it’s no less deadly for it.  Like, flatten an entire city in ten seconds flat, deadly.  And they can do that so quietly you won’t know they’re coming until after they’re done.”
“...  Ahh.”
“Wait, they have stuff that destructive?” Twilight asked.
“Yep!  Nuke ‘em from orbit, only way to be sure!”
Twilight facepalmed.  “Of course they would.”
> Chapter 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Professor McGonagall tried to be inconspicuous as she took a deep breath.  If she was honest with herself, she did that every time she led a new muggleborn student into the Leaky Cauldron, bracing herself for the worst.  It was quite rare, in this day and age, for muggle parents to abandon their children to the wizarding world- but the most common point for them to do that was upon entering the Leaky Cauldron.
When Hagrid had returned a couple nights before, he’d reported on exactly what the Equestrians were going to do; they’d explained it to him in more detail.  Thus, the staff had known to treat the letters from Equestrians like letters from wizarding families.  It had taken that entire day to separate out the muggleborn notes remaining…  and it had been found that there simply wasn’t enough days left before the deadline for him to attend to all of the muggleborns himself.  Combined with how they’d also realized just how many teachers were necessary to process all the owls that came in through the entire day, that meant that Hagrid had been reassigned to get Harry Potter…  and Professor McGonagall herself had been sent out on muggleborn duty, as usual.
By her understanding, Professor Flitwick was going to get two muggleborn as well over the next few days, reducing her duty count to just one per day, up to the deadline.  And that, assuming they all said yes- which they usually all did, whether they meant to or not.
The Grangers, who she was escorting at the time, seemed like a pleasant family.  Most of the disowners seemed like that, though, so she wasn’t so certain.  Their daughter, a young witch that had eagerly accepted the offer after her carefully-designed demonstration, was particularly eager- which did tend to suggest her parents were not the disowning type.  Most of the disowned children had been nervous on the way in… but she’d had a few cheerful ones get disowned over the ages as well.
In either case, she fully expected the girl to end up in either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, whatever happened.  And, with how heavily strained the castle finances would be for this number of students, she couldn’t expect to be able to provide any gold for the girl’s education, should she be disowned.
She braced herself for the worst as she led the trio to the door.  She’d already explained to the parents that they wouldn’t be able to see it without touching a witch or wizard- which included their daughter, who was rather obligingly holding their hands.
Then, she opened the door, entered, and held the door for them.
Then she did a double-take.  The pub did not look like she was used to it looking.
“...  Colorful,” Hermione observed bluntly.
The pub was a lot fuller than Professor McGonagall had expected, and a lot more cheerful.  And, Hermione was right, more colorful as well.  Not only were the witches and wizards in attendance wearing their usual kaleidoscope of colors, but there were dozens- possibly hundreds- of first-year-age children, each with their own vivid hair colors, milling about.  A couple dozen of them, in one corner, appeared to be wearing golden armor.  Tom, and all six of his servers (four of whom were also funny-haired first-years), were running to and fro, serving varied drinks- mostly butterbeer, it seemed- to all the students.
In between them all, placed proudly on five different tables throughout the room, stood five towering cakes.  She could just see the remnants of a sixth, with only a few pieces left on the massive platter, and the several other tables littered with other sweets and treats throughout the room.  Floating above the crowd were hundreds of balloons as varied in color as a bag of Bertie Bott's in flavor.  Cheerful music wafted through the air, and a colorful dance floor could be found off to the side, flashing different colors to the tune of the music…  with plenty of those first-years stumbling in failed attempts at dancing, and a few older witches or wizards either helping them learn or just dancing.
Then of course, there was the huge banner hanging across the entire width of the pub, directly above the bar, with ‘Welcome to a New World’ written on it in huge lettering.
“Ahh…  I hope we’re not crashing someone’s party,” Mr. Granger muttered quietly.
Very suddenly, a first-year girl with a startlingly pink mane of fluffy pink hair dashed out of the crowd so fast someone slower than Professor McGonagall would have to be excused for thinking she’d apparated.  “Of course not,” the girl cheered.  “Everyone’s invited to this Welcome-to-the-Wizarding-World party!”  She suddenly had a plate of cake in her hands, though where she’d gotten it from, even McGonagall couldn’t tell.  “Cake?”
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, committing an image of the pub to memory…  then concentrated on the Hogwarts wards.  It was harder to communicate through them when she was away from the castle, but she could still do it.  It took her close to two seconds to properly formulate and deliver the image, during which all three Grangers stood still, stunned silent.
Professor Dumbledore’s response came back almost immediately.  “What.”  She got the distinct feeling of shocked silence from all three other heads of house, and allowed herself a small smile.
“Is there something missing…?” the pink-haired girl asked, looking somewhat saddened.
Then another girl, this one with light blue and white striped hair, trotted up next to her.  “Patience, Pinkie- remember, these people aren’t used to you.”  She glanced up at the Grangers.  “And something tells me these people aren’t used to magic in the first place.”  She then stepped forward, and held her hand out to Hermione.  “I’m Lyra Heartstrings- and it’s nice to meet you,” she greeted.
The pink girl- Pinkie?- scowled, but all three Grangers started moving with a start, and shook themselves out.  “Ahh…  Nice to meet you too,” Hermione answered, gingerly accepting the hand.
Mrs. Granger breathed a sigh, looking up at Professor McGonagall.  “Do…  How long do we have, for…?”  She gestured around at the party.
At that very moment, Professor Dumbledore spoke again, over the Hogwarts wards; of the other three, only Snape had recovered from his shock, now quietly curious.  “You’re…  guiding someone, aren’t you?”
“Ahh,” Professor McGonagall muttered aloud.  “Yes…  though the Grangers seem to want some time here too.”
“Hmm,” Dumbledore mused.  “I don’t see any reason to stop them.  Probably be a good chance to learn about some of the Equestrians, I’d say.”
Lyra spoke up suddenly, looking up at the adults; while McGonagall communed with Dumbledore, she’d asked Hermione if she was going to Hogwarts, and gotten a yes.  “If you want to party first and shop later, that’s no problem- as a matter of fact, we’ve got teams going shopping at regular intervals, about twenty-five every ten minutes or so.  We’ve got, let’s see…”  She glanced at her wristwatch, whose face lit up as she looked at it, in a manner that practically screamed ‘muggle tech’ to Professor McGonagall.  “About six hours before the last one heads out, today.  And they’ve got almost a half-hour of leeway before the first shop closes, so…”  She shrugged.  “If you want to shop first and party later, I might suggest joining the next party- about three minutes, expect the shopping trip to take about an hour and a half- and we’ll still be here for several hours yet.  And tomorrow too, if you like.”
Pinkie bounced up and down so fast she couldn’t possibly have been only falling back to the ground each time.  “Yes!  And the day after, and the day after, and every day until we’re all done!  It’ll be superduper fuuuuntastic!”  She leaped several feet into the air, one hand pumping even higher, floated in place for a half-second or so, and dropped back to the ground in a blur.
Professor McGonagall’s jaw articulated up and down a couple times, staring at her.
“Don’t ask,” Lyra warned her.  “Some of the concepts involved in how she does that defy logic in ways that even the greatest mages of our world can’t understand.  Still remember the time Twilight tried to explain Pinkie Pie…  I think she actually caught fire, right?”
Pinkie nodded energetically.  “Yep!  Then it all went out, though she was still smoking a little, and she was like ‘okay, I’ll accept it’.”  She tapped her chin with one finger.  “Come to think of it, I think she’s still the record holder for the slowest to accept that Pinkie Pie defies explanation…”
“What, not me?”  She put on a mock offended expression.
“Well of course, Lyra!  You’re the one that made it possible, so of course you don’t count!  Cake?”  She offered the plate she was still holding.
Lyra chuckled.  “No thanks, I still gotta finish my last piece.  Hot sauce?”  She held up a red bottle she hadn’t been holding a moment before, with an image of a flame on its label.
All three Grangers and Professor McGonagall stared as Pinkie nodded.  “Sure!”  The girl popped the bottle open, poured it all over the slice of cake, and swallowed it all- plate, bottle, and all- in one fell swoop.  “Mmm, good stuff.”  Then she burped, producing the plate with a few crumbs on it, and an empty bottle with that fire label.  She promptly vanished for a second before reappearing with four plates, each with a fresh slice of cake, which she offered to them.  “Cake?”
“Uhh…” Mr. Granger uttered.
Lyra put a hand over her mouth and started snickering, while Pinkie giggled openly.
“That never gets old,” Lyra snickered.
Hermione then became the first to accept the plate offered to her.  “...  Thank you?”  She sounded very confused.
> Chapter 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took Hermione Granger over half an hour to straighten everything out in her head and stop gawking at everything in amazement.  She’d always known she was a little weird; nobody else had strange things happen around them all the time.  Well, almost nobody, but he was basically a nobody anyways.  And she’d noticed that those strange things always seemed to be in her favor, whatever they were.  Fortunately, she wasn’t the one that that gang had chased all around the school every day for months.  She wasn’t the one that had been caught sitting on the chimney.  She wasn’t the one that…
No, she was fairly sure she actually was the one that turned the teacher’s wig blue.  That other boy got in trouble for it, but the teacher had been yelling at her, for the failed group assignment, when his wig changed color.  It wasn’t her fault she’d failed it- the other members of her group had been so lazy they easily made up for every other kid in the school; she’d done as much as she could herself, but the assignment had been designed such that she couldn’t do it all herself.  Since then, she’d learned to control those funny occurrences, to a degree.
So of course, for as much as her Hogwarts letter had been a surprise, she really hadn’t been surprised to learn that she was a witch- it simply explained the things that she could do.  She had been surprised when Professor McGonagall had shown up, and demonstrated more refined magics with her wand- and had made up her mind.  So, Professor McGonagall had taken her, and her parents, out to London, to this tiny pub.
Well…  it was tiny, when she looked at it from the street outside.  She’d thought it a bit weird that her parents couldn’t see it unless she was holding their hands, but accepted that as the magical people wanting to stay hidden…  for some reason.
Then, she’d stepped in.  She’d been wholly unprepared for what had happened next- and, by her best guess, Professor McGonagall had been blindsided by it too.
Now, after taking half an hour to reorganize her mind, she watched the crowd- and nibbled on the cake she’d been given when she’d first entered- for around fifteen minutes.  It was a good cake, but she noticed something about the crowd during that time.
That is, a lot of the funny-haired children her age…  didn’t behave like children her age.  Most of them behaved more like she’d expect her parents to.
She finished off her cake, gave her dishes to Pinkie Pie- who just happened to be collecting them at that moment, she determinedly did not think about that- and made her way towards Lyra’s booth, where the girl was working with a few other girls to do…  something, she wasn’t quite sure.  It seemed to involve a lot of technology, though, and they all had calm, serious expressions, and lots of foaming golden liquid.  Unless she missed her guess, they were doing something to coordinate those ‘teams’ Lyra had mentioned earlier.  She reached their table, and looked down at it.
Set out in the middle of the table, they had a large…  tablet, she thought, lying flat, with a map of something displayed on it, and numerous dots marching across it or standing in place.  Each of the girls at the table also had a sleek smartphone, with what looked to her like close-ups of different parts of the map- the only exception being Lyra, who would call someone every ten minutes or so, before the next group appeared out of thin air and headed out the back door of the pub.  They also each had devices she recognized as radios, which they would periodically speak into.  “Uhh, Lyra?” she asked.
Lyra looked up.  “Yes Hermione?”
She blinked.  She couldn’t remember ever giving the girl her name.  “Uhh…”
Lyra blinked.  “Oh, sorry.  I have a…  unique advantage, that lets me do that.  And sometimes, I…”  She trailed off, rubbing the side of her head with one hand and looking at her sheepishly.
She let out a small chuckle.  “Oh, ahh…  About that, actually.”
Lyra slipped sideways in the booth.  “Why don’t you take a seat?”
“Ahh…  Thank you,” she muttered, sliding into the booth.  Then, she blinked at the table in front of her; where once it had been clear, there was now a foaming mug of golden liquid.  “Uhh…”
“That was Lightning Dust,” Lyra informed her.  “She’s having a competition with Rainbow Dash right now, to see who can serve the most.”  She grinned.  “She’s also winning.”
She blinked, looking between Lyra and the mug.  “Um…”
“Go ahead,” Lyra smiled, gesturing towards it.  “There’s no alcohol in it- and if you don’t like it, one of us can finish it off for you, no problem.”
“Oh.”  She carefully lifted the mug, and sniffed it uncertainly.
“It’s called Butterbeer,” the stoic-faced girl on the other side of the table, with curly pink and purple hair, informed her.  “Virgin butterbeer, to be exact- the normal stuff has a very mild alcoholic content, and doesn’t really taste any different.  It’s a nice butterscotch drink.”
She raised her eyebrows, gave it a sip, and then went for it again- it tasted good.  After she’d satisfied her curiosity, and reduced the mug’s contents by about a quarter in the process, she lowered it again.  “Thank you,” she began.  “Um…  Lyra?”
“Mm?”
“Why do you and…”  She gestured towards the room.  “So many others, not act like…?”  She trailed off, blushing as she realized what her question must sound like.
“Like eleven-year-olds?” Lyra finished cheerfully.  “Simple:  Because we’re not.  I’m thirty-four, and Bonbon here is thirty-five.”  She gestured towards the girl that told her about the butterbeer.  “However, a little gimmick of our gate has us taking on eleven-year-old bodies on this side.  I wasn’t able to fix that during the first few days after I opened the portal…  then the Hogwarts letters started showing, and I’m not sure that I want to fix it now, aside from making sure we age properly on this side as well.”  She glanced out at the main room.  “Thus, as near as we can tell, Hogwarts’ spellwork believes every last Equestrian is exactly eleven years old…  Except, as near as we can tell, the ones that are younger than that.  Should make for some rather amusing classes this year, I daresay, with Princess Luna in attendance.”
She blinked.  “Princess Luna?”
“Yes.  She’s the Princess of the Night, well over a thousand years old…  and, on this side, in the form of an eleven-year-old girl, just like you and me.”
“...  Oh.  Wait, what gate?”
“Our gate.  Up until a couple weeks ago, our world- Equestria- was magically and physically isolated from yours…  both the muggle one and the wizarding one, which are magically isolated from each other.  Then, I opened a gateway through that barrier, and forged a way to this world.  That gateway…  Well, it’s in my backyard at the moment, but we’ll be moving it to Twilight’s castle or something at some point.  On this side, I’m sorry to say I can’t tell you where it is…  because, if you were to try to cross through it, it’d kill you.  We can pass without issue, but only because we possess a certain magic facet unique to the other side that allows us to do so.  One of my projects, once we get everyone’s stuff for Hogwarts, will be to find a way to make it possible for someone from this side to pass through the Gate safely…  after which point we can consider revealing its location, and of course, make diplomatic first contact.”
“Who’s Twilight?”
“Oh, that’d be Princess Twilight Sparkle.  Perhaps the only Equestrian Princess that doesn’t like being called a Princess, she’s also the newest one, at only thirty-four years old…  and almost definitely going to be a Ravenclaw.”
“Ravenclaw?”
“Yeah- one of the four houses at Hogwarts.”  She glanced up at Bonbon, who had said something Hermione hadn’t caught, then down at the big map.  “ ‘Scuse me a second.”  She woke her phone up, pushed the button to call the contact she already had open onscreen, and held it to her ear.  “Yep.”  Then she hung up, locked it, and put it back down on the table, looking at Bonbon.  “Coming.”  Then she turned back towards Hermione.  “Sorry about that.
“The four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, each value different qualities.  We haven’t been able to find anything on how the sorting actually works- almost like it’s an insider secret or something- but the houses themselves are easy enough.
“Gryffindor values courage, bravery, nerve, and chivalry.  As you might expect, by their very nature, Gryffindors tend to get in trouble more than any other house- but they also tend to earn the most House Points at the same time, making their position in that ranking easily the most volatile.”  She shrugged.  “I expect to be a Gryffindor myself.  Of course, the Crusaders will definitely be Gryffindors, too, so if you get sorted to Gryffindor, keep your eyes open.  And probably if you’re not a Gryffindor as well.  They turned eleven only last month- and have been known to get into all sorts of strange situations…  that can very easily hurt those around them, if they aren’t paying attention.
“Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, justice, and loyalty.  They only very rarely break the rules, but they work themselves into the ground at times.  They’re probably the most stable in terms of House Points.  My friend Applejack is an apple farmer…  and expected to be in Hufflepuff.
“Then there’s Ravenclaw.  They’re very studious, valuing intelligence, creativity, learning, and wit.  You’d think they’d get better grades with values like that, but I’ve heard a few rumors that they’re graded harder to match- and generally given harder assignments.  Twilight- and her friend, Moondancer- are expected to be Ravenclaws…  and straight-A students regardless, knowing them.
“And finally, Slytherin.  They value ambition, cunning, leadership, and resourcefulness.  It’s kinda hard to tell what to believe about them- I’ve seen lots of breakdowns that agree on the other three houses, but conflict on Slytherin.  Personally, I think they’re just given a bad name because their founding father a few thousand years ago, Salazar Slytherin, wanted to keep magic training to the all-wizarding families.”  She shrugged.  “Ignoring the clearly biased accounts, and the ones from questionable sources, that’s about all we know about them- and we actually expect both Princess Luna and Bonbon here to be Slytherins.”  She gestured towards the girl, then frowned at the ceiling, putting one finger in her chin.  “Not unlike the bad name Hufflepuff seems to have been given, as a ‘load of duffers’...  Blatantly false, by the way.”
Hermione blinked a couple of times.  “Y… You said Gryffindor values chivalry, right?”
“Yeah?” Lyra nodded.
She looked at her drink.  “I hope I’m in Gryffindor.”
“Oh?  You have problems with…?” Lyra asked, her tone softening.
“Oh, no, no,” she said, shaking her head quickly.  “I just…  Well…”  She took a deep breath.  “I…  I’m a ‘model student’ basically wherever I go.  So much that my peers find me intimidating, and…”  Her expression darkened, and she took a long drink of her butterbeer before she went on.  It really was good stuff.  She took a deep breath.  “And nobody will talk to me.”  She looked up at Lyra.  “I learn things, I know things…  but nobody will let me help them.  Nobody will let me work with them, even if they’re supposed to, for a group project.”
Lyra put an arm over her shoulders.  “Good thing we’re here then, right?  Did you know, I graduated second in class, behind only Twilight, from Celestia’s School for Gifted…  ahh…”
“What?” Hermione asked, blinking.
“Well, um,” Lyra began.  “The last word of the title is, unfortunately, a national secret…  But, that’s the best school in our entire nation, led by Princess Celestia herself- Luna’s older sister, and the other ruler of the nation.”  She scowled.  “Unfortunately, just about nothing I learned there will be applicable at Hogwarts, thanks to the differences in magic.”  She sighed.  “And it’ll be even less applicable to you, since wizardkind in general is incapable of our Equestrian magic, even though we’ve already confirmed we’re plenty capable of wand magic.  Another thing I’m planning on fixing sometime, once I get the whole safely-travel-the-Gate thing working.  It is looking like I should be able to get both at once, though- I believe the saying is to ‘kill two birds with one stone’ on this side.”
The two girls at the table that Hermione hadn’t been introduced to wrinkled their noses.  Bonbon raised an eyebrow.
“Ahh…  What is it on the other side?”
“Plant two trees with one seed, usually.  I’ve also seen it as busting two clouds with one kick, and so on.”  She grinned.  “Rainbow likes to say it as busting ten clouds with one kick, Twilight likes to sort two books with one glance.  Pinkie likes to throw two parties with one cannon- yes, she has a magic ‘party cannon’ that helps her decorate, don’t question it- and Rarity likes to sew two dresses with one needle.”  She grins.  “I think Princess Celestia likes to bake two cakes with one pan.  Then of course, there’s all the regional differences- different parts of the nation have different ways of saying the same general expression.  I once visited a town where it was to guide two ships with one sail.”
“...  Okay.”  She took another swig of her drink.  “Can…  May I ask what your, ahh, Equestrian Magic does?”
Lyra paused for a half-second.  “Uhh… Yeah.  Though, to fully explain that, I’ll have to explain the three tribes, too.”
She smiled attentively at her.
Lyra grinned.  “Okay, alright.  Well…  Most of Equestria is divided into three tribes- the Raeth, Aethr, and Etrah tribes.  That’s R-A-E-T-H, A-E-T-H-R, and E-T-R-A-H, by the way- probably the oldest words in our language, dating back some several thousand years ago- nobody knows exactly how long, because it was hard to keep track of time through the Chaos Years- back to when civilization on our world was first founded.
“Anyways, in our world, we simply don’t have muggles.  Instead, everyone belongs to one of those three tribes, about evenly distributed…  and each tribe has its own tribal magic the other two can’t use.  Like, physically can’t.  There’s also the more generalized Equestrian magic that they can all use, but it’s fairly…  ahh, inactive.  Ubiquitous Equestrian magic is what makes our hair look so unique, for example- and what makes us quite so durable…  especially the younger girls for some reason.  I’m not sure yet if the older ladies- including myself- will have picked up that durability while so physically young on this side.  There’s a little more to it, but all that really does is reduce how tightly we have to hold onto something.
“Alright then.  The Etrah Tribe, of which Bonbon is a part, is very…  down-to-earth.  Their tribal magic is almost entirely passive in nature, but it has plenty of effects.  For example, as a rule, they’re much tougher than any other tribe.  Their tribal magic makes even the adults far tougher than any young girl of the other tribes.  Their little girls…”  She grinned at Bonbon.  “Virtually indestructible.  They’re also impressively strong, enabling them to rather easily accomplish things anyone from the other two tribes would require heavy machinery to manage.  For example, most of them can bench press something like fifteen hundred pounds.  Bonbon, however, has gone through some rather extensive training to hone not just her muscles but her magic- and can lift quite a bit more.”
Bonbon grinned at her across the table.  “Last time I checked, almost two years ago, I broke the machine.  It was rated for about eight thousand pounds.”
“Yeah- I could never do that no matter how much training I went through, because I’m not an Etrah.  The Etrah Tribal Magic also makes them good with plants- they’re natural farmers.”
“...  Okay,” Hermione mumbled, staring at Bonbon with awe.  “I…  I guess I know who not to annoy, then?”
Lyra laughed.  “Oh, I wouldn’t be too worried about that.  The other two tribes held their own pretty well against each other and against the Etrahs throughout the Three Tribes Era.”
“...  Ahh.  Soo…  what’s next?”
“Next up would be the Aethr Tribe.  Which would happen to include both Cloudchaser and Spitfire here, and both Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust.”  She gestured to the last two in order.  “Their magic is also mostly passive, but they do have some more active components.  In Equestria, they can fly- and in either world, they can interact with clouds as if they were solid objects.  I understand that lightning and rainbows require attention to produce, making them active magic.”  She grinned.  “They can also walk on walls and ceilings, though I hear it’s very disorienting, nevermind a bit weird to anyone else that happens to be in the room.”  She smiled.  “Makes them very difficult to knock down, too.  They’ve also got a durability boost in their tribal magic, but it’s much more focused on blunt force trauma than Etrah magic, and not as strong.”  She shrugged.
“Helps us survive a crash,” Spitfire grinned.
“Yep!  Though Rainbow Dash in particular has been known to crash hard enough to hurt herself.  Which is not surprising, to be honest, since she’s the only Equestrian known to be capable of exceeding the speed of sound.”  She shrugged.  “It’s in her name, after all.”
Hermione blinked, then chuckled.  “Are you…?”
She shook her head.  “No, I’m not an Aethr.  Rather, I belong to the last one, the Raeth tribe.  So does Twilight, Moondancer, and any other Equestrian spellsmith.  Well…”  She shrugged.  “Technically speaking, Twilight, Luna, Celestia, and Cadence- the four princesses- actually don’t belong to any of the three, as they’re immortal and possess the magic of all three, but they’re still classified as Raeths, even though Cadence was an Aethr before she ascended some fifty years ago.
“Our magic is entirely active.  No durability boost, no strength boost, etcetera.  In return, we get direct control over every aspect of it- and with it, the ability to design and cast spells to do an array of different things.  There are spells I can use to mimic the Etrah strength or durability, or the Aethr flight, cloudwalking, or ceiling-walking abilities.  However, they require concentration to use- and are not passive effects of the magic, like it is for them.  On the other hand, if I wasn’t a Raeth, I could never have opened the gateway between our worlds, and wouldn’t have a hope of making it safe for people from this world to pass.”  She sighed.  “Most Raeths don’t bother learning any more than a few basic spells, like levitation- which is mostly instinctive anyways.
“Those that go to Celestia’s School for Gifted…  uhh, Raeths, basically, are a little different, in that we study all kinds of magic.  However, some magics- such as teleportation- are exclusive to the elite even within Celestia’s School.  So basically, I know it, Twilight knows it, and a few others do.”
“Soo…  Which one would be the worst one to, ahh…”
“Get on the wrong side of?”
She nodded.
Lyra chuckled.  “All of the above?  I mean, if an Equestrian wants to ruin your day, they’re going to ruin your day, unless they’re stopped by another Equestrian.  The same holds true in Equestria, actually.  And even within those tribes, we vary in power by quite a bit.  Me, Bonbon, and Spitfire are all some of the most powerful of our tribes- but we’ve also learned to cope with that power, so you can be fairly confident we won’t be blowing up in your face.  So, the answer to your question might well be none of the above.”  She shrugged.  “We don’t know enough about your magic just yet to tell if we’d be at an advantage in a fight…  or if you would be.”
“Or neither,” Hermione nodded understandingly.
“Or neither,” Lyra agreed.





“Well, that happened,” Cloudchaser muttered, when Hermione finally left, at least an hour after she’d arrived.  Lyra had explained a few bits about Equestrian magic, and quite a bit more about the local human magic that she’d seen so far.  In turn, Hermione had chatted- and rather energetically, at that- about her experience with the non-magical world.  Lyra had a little bit of knowledge about it to let on, but most of that was Hermione explaining things to Lyra.  The girl had gotten very excited in the process, like it was something she loved to do…  and didn’t often have an opportunity to do.
Spitfire chuckled.  “One way to say it.  You know what I think?”
Bonbon looked up, through her eyebrows, at Lyra.  “You were scanning her, weren’t you?”
Lyra flinched.  “Well no, but-!” Spitfire began.
“Guilty as charged,” Lyra stated.  Spitfire fell silent as she continued.  “But I didn’t do anything to her, I promise!  Only looked!  And, not in any inappropriate ways!”
Bonbon sighed.  “You really should be asking permission before you make those scans,” she stated.
“On the other hand, I’m now reasonably certain the Gama Papa and the Mike Echo are going to be one and the same…  and likely fall under the Papa Tango as well.”
Bonbon shook her head with a sigh.  “Convoy.”
Lyra blinked, and went for her phone to call Twilight…  again.  “Right.”
“Uhh…  Anyways, you know what I think?”
“That Hermione has no friends?” Cloudchaser suggested.  “Should be pretty easy to fix, once school starts.”
“Well, that too, I guess,” Spitfire sighed.  “I was thinking more about that boy she mentioned at her school, that…  Harry, was it?  What’re the chances he’s a wizard?”
“Virtually certain,” Lyra answered.  “How about, what are the chances he’s the famous Harry Potter?  I mean, she said he’s in her year, and this year also happens to be the year the famous Harry Potter turns eleven and, theoretically, comes to Hogwarts.”
Bonbon looked up sharply.  “True…”
“If he is, it’ll be a pretty good shock when she finds out, won’t it?” Cloudchaser mused.
> Chapter 9
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco Malfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he stepped out of the floo at the Leaky Cauldron.  He’d been here before- hundreds of times, in fact.  But not once had he seen the Leaky Cauldron so…  colorful.  Streamers hung from the ceiling; a massive banner hung over the bar, reading ‘Welcome to a New World’.  There was a girl with fluffy pink hair filling balloons so fast it was almost like a rope of them was ascending to the ceiling as she traversed the room.  He was fairly sure that even magic couldn’t fill balloons that fast without popping them- but he was uneducated as of yet, so what did he know?
Then of course, the girl reached the end of her row, and disappeared upstairs in a blur…  to reappear a half-second later with a truly enormous cake, which she plopped down on an empty table far faster than he would have thought possible, before vanishing for another one.
Finally, the fire flared green again behind him, and his mother- Narcissa- stepped out of it…  before pausing to look around.  “...  Funny, I don’t think I’ve seen this before,” she muttered, joining him off to the side.
It took his father another two or three seconds to appear, during which no less than six more cakes- each at least as tall as he was- made it into the room, alongside numerous tables full of cupcakes, party favors, and other treats.
Right as his father stepped out of the floo, a set of four girls with vivid hair appeared out of nowhere…  carrying what even Draco could recognize as muggle technology from halfway across the pub.
Lucius stiffened when he saw it.  “Come,” he instructed, and led the way.
Draco followed him.  The pink-haired girl stopped by very briefly, to say something so fast that neither he nor- judging by their expressions- either of his parents could understand.  As Lucius led him and Narcissa towards Diagon Alley, he watched the four girls laying out their muggle tech on one of the booth tables, and seating themselves around it.  One of them, with white and light blue hair, looked up and waved cheerfully as they passed.  Lucius hissed, but Draco was very suddenly not all that concerned with that.
She had spotted him.  And unlike the pink one, or the other three girls, her eyes didn’t just slide past him and proceed.  Her eyes met his, and she stared, making him instantly uneasy.  He tried looking away, but even when he couldn’t see her, he could feel her eyes boring holes in the back of his head.  He glanced back just before closing the door out the back of the Leaky Cauldron- and sure enough, she was still staring.  One of the other girls looked to be trying to get her attention…  and he had just enough time to make out two red-haired boys by the floo before the door landed shut.
Hopefully, the Weasley family could distract her.  He shuddered at the thought of walking past her again if she should happen to be still there when he finished his shopping trip.  Would she stare at him like that again?  He wasn’t sure.
If there was one thing he was sure if, it was that he hoped- prayed, even- that she didn’t go to Hogwarts as a Slytherin.  He didn’t think he could stand being in the same house as someone that had stared at him quite like that.





Fred and George Weasley, having run on ahead of the rest of the family, were in time to see what looked like the Malfoy Family departing for Diagon Alley.  Well, Fred was; George was still re-orienting himself from the Floo when the door landed closed behind the last Malfoy.
Halfway across the room, at one of the booths, was something that had caught Fred’s attention.  There were four girls, each with vivid hair, dealing with a bunch of muggle stuff.  Well…  two girls.  The third one, with wavy white and light blue striped hair, was standing next to the booth, holding a couple of muggle devices in her hands, and staring after Malfoy.  The fourth, with curly pink and purple hair, was poking her, apparently trying to get her attention.
“C’mon,” Fred muttered to George, as soon as the latter fully re-oriented himself, before moving closer.  Whatever else they were, these girls were a source of curiosity.
As they got closer, they started picking out what the girls were saying.
“Oy!  Lyra!”  The one with the curly pink and purple hair poked the staring one again.
Finally, the blue-and-white-haired girl responded.  “...  Huh.”  Then she turned.  “Yes, Bonbon?”
They could tell that Bonbon- the one that had been poking her- rolled her eyes, even though she was facing away from them.  “Lyra!” Bonbon retorted angrily.  “What was that about?”
Lyra looked back at the door to Diagon Alley for a second, then at Bonbon.  “He’s…”
Bonbon put her hands on her hips.  “You didn’t do anything to him, did you?”
“No, no, I didn’t touch him.  I just happened to notice something, and it got my attention.”
“Gee, I didn’t notice.  What did you do next, scan him fifty times?”
“No, only thirty-seven times.  And no, I didn’t change anything, either.  That’s not…”  She glanced at the door again, before turning more fully to Bonbon.  “That boy, their son, is Draco Malfoy.  And if anyone was ever unsatisfied with their lot in life, that’s him.”
Bonbon’s tone became cold, but Fred could somehow tell the cold was not aimed at Lyra.  “You mean to tell me,” she began, “that he’s a victim of-!”
“No, no,” Lyra interrupted, shaking her head.  “Nothing like that.  Near as I can tell, he’s actually been spoiled by his parents, and if I had to guess, a household servant as well.  But, he’s not satisfied with his lot in life.  Like, terminally unsatisfied, absolutely hates it.”
“...  Seriously?”
“Yeah.  It’s- It’s a bit hard to explain, and even harder to narrow down.  It’s…”  She paused, looking towards Diagon Alley.  “It’s almost like he’s had everything handed to him on a silver platter, but doesn’t want it- wants to work for it.”
“You mean there’s actually someone like that?”
“Why do you think he attracted my attention like that?  I didn’t think it was possible either, until I saw him!”  Then she blinked, and looked up, past Bonbon, at Fred and George.  “Can I help you?”
Bonbon turned on the spot, looked them over, rolled her eyes, and sat down at the booth.
“Hello,” Fred began.  “We couldn’t help but notice your…”  He trailed off, as his mind failed to supply something non-creepy to ask about.
“Hair,” George supplied.  “How it’s colored down to the strand, but the colors never mix, even when your hair shifts.”
“Yeah,” Fred continued, trying to look like they’d planned it.  “How did you do that?  Even the finest color changing charms won’t do that.”
“Oh, heh heh,” Lyra muttered, suddenly uneasy, and looked at the other three girls for a second.  “It’s…  A little complicated?”  She looked up at them.  “But that’s not what you came to ask about, was it?”
It was the twins’ turn to be nervous.  “Ahh…”  Fred muttered.
“Err…” George muttered.
“Didn’t think so.  You were listening to what I was telling Bonbon, weren’t you?”
They nodded meekly.  Their intent was not to make an enemy.
“Then why didn’t you say so?”  She glanced in the direction of Diagon Alley, before her tone shifted completely, a note of eagerness coming in.  “Do you know the Malfoys?”
“Er…  Not really,” Fred began.  “But, ahh…”
“The Malfoy Family is one of the oldest of the ‘noble’ pureblood wizarding families,” George stated.
“And they’re both rich and very powerful,” Fred nodded.  “Makes, ahh…”
“So,” Lyra grinned, “he will have been spoiled as a matter of course, and as a member of a ‘noble’ house, is expected to maintain a ‘noble’ front at all times?”
“Ahh, yes,” George confirmed.
Lyra looked at Bonbon.  “Almost sounds like Diamond.”
Bonbon raised an eyebrow at her…  then tilted her head contemplatively.  “...  Yeah, I can see the similarity,” she eventually answered.  “And speaking of Diamond, you still need to call her.”
Lyra blinked.  “Right!”  She whipped out a small object that Fred instantly recognized as muggle stuff, touched it a couple times in very quick succession, and put it to her ear.





Draco Malfoy was, if he was entirely honest with himself, scared out of his mind as his Diagon Alley shopping trip drew to a close.  He’d stuck to the plan, of course, so nobody knew he was anything less than the fully confident front he projected.
The problem was, starting from just a few minutes after he’d hit the Alley, waves of some twenty-five funny-haired first-years- mostly girls, he’d noticed- were regularly coming into the Alley to shop.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that they had something to do with that one that had stared at him in the Leaky Cauldron- and by the time the final preplanned tangential excursion was complete, the entire Alley was flooded with them, and it was very hard indeed to shop for much of anything…  Except wands.  For some reason nobody had told him, at Ollivanders’ shop, he’d had priority over all the funny-haired girls buying wands.
And then, trying to simultaneously stand out as a Malfoy and blend in as a first-year, it became time for him to return to the Leaky Cauldron and, in it, the Floo back to Malfoy Manor.  It was almost an hour and a half later than they’d planned; the waits at the various shops they’d actually needed to go to had been relatively short, but also excruciatingly long.  Except at Ollivanders’, of course.
Several of the…  girls had tried to strike up conversation at the various shops, while they waited.  None of those conversations had lasted long- and, more often than not as near as he could tell, it wasn’t his fault.  Only once had it been cut off by happenstance, when that girl’s…  wave had continued on to the next shop on their list.  That had been the shortest such conversation- but, thinking back on it, probably the only one that might have gone on for any duration, had it not been interrupted.  The girl had introduced herself as ‘Diamond Tiara’, an…  interesting name at the best of times.
And the way she had said ‘moms’ instead of ‘parents’ sounded…  off to him.
All the others had, by his best guess, quickly formed negative opinions of him, from what he had no idea, and left by themselves.
He took a deep breath as Lucius tapped the wall to get back to the Leaky Cauldron.  That Diamond Tiara girl had, despite having the shortest conversation, told him the most, albeit only with her parting statement.  “Oh, I gotta go.  I’ll have to ask my moms if I can stay for the party in the Cauldron, maybe catch you on your way back through.  Bye!”
He had almost been able to feel Lucius sighing irritably when she said that.  If there was a party there, they would probably be invited by happenstance- and be socially required to stick around and participate for at least a little.  Add in the complete social no-no of disapparating directly from Diagon Alley, and they had no choice.
Draco, at least, had a little hope:  That that Diamond girl would be there, and willing enough to chat in some corner to take up his time…  and distract him from the strange blue-and-white-haired girl.  As terrified as he was of Diamond, having a peaceful conversation with her was the least terrifying thing he could think of.
When Lucius opened the door back into the Leaky Cauldron, and Draco spied the kind of party that was going on inside, he tried very hard to look like he both knew what was waiting for him here, and was looking forward to it.  He could tell that both of his parents were doing the same, and likely with more success than he- though, judging by the slight sagging of Narcissa’s shoulders, and the sudden stiffening of Lucius’ body, they weren’t having too much success either.
Both his parents quickly spotted a small cluster of social elite adults in the far corner, and started making their way over.  “Go play with the others,” Narcissa urged him tonelessly, as they drew near; he had followed.
He knew what she meant, though.  All those other nobles were wearing some of the most painful-looking smiles he’d ever seen- to the point that, even if he just sat at the bar ordering butterbeer and shunned the entire party, he’d have more fun than if he joined them.  And of course, in telling him to ‘go play’, she was acknowledging that he actually had that option, which neither she nor Lucius had.  They had to join the others, for social reasons that he understood only peripherally…  and didn’t want to understand at all.  Or deal with.
He quickly picked a destination- the bar, on the opposite side of the crowd as those girls in that booth; he’d spotted them on the way past, but he didn’t think that blue-and-white-haired girl noticed him.
Fortunately, for as full as the pub was, the bar itself was pretty vacant.  He climbed up onto a barstool, faced the bar, and sighed to himself.  He looked over towards his parents, ignoring the sound of someone taking the seat next to him.  Just how long would they take?
“Okay, why the long face?”
He turned to look at the girl that had spoken, quickly schooling his face into calm disinterest.  She was the one that had just taken the seat next to him, and it took him a couple seconds to place the hair.
It was Diamond Tiara, sitting on the stool such that she could lean back against the bar, and doing just that, her hands folded behind her head.  It looked quite relaxing, but Draco couldn’t do that, for social reasons he didn’t understand at all.  He idly wished he could do that too, as he tried to decrypt the girl’s words.
He didn’t come up with anything- she’d spoken too far outside his vocabulary.  “Long face?” he asked.
The girl didn’t even bat an eye.  “You look mighty unhappy,” she stated, by way of an explanation.
He blinked, and thought for a second, trying to find a way out.  He couldn’t find one, so he settled for disputing it.  “I do?”
She let out a laugh.  “And I thought you sounded familiar in Madam Malkin’s,” she chuckled.  “This is a Pinkie Party.  Social restrictions like that are often more harmful than not- especially at a Pinkie Party.  I mean, really.”  She gestured towards where his parents were communing stiffly with the other nobles.  “Those idiots are over there ‘enjoying’, quote unquote, themselves.  Yet they’re probably actually having the worst times of their lives, because there’s so much here that they want to do, and can do, but don’t think they can do.”  She sighed, and held out a closed fist towards him.  “I was in that boat too, once.”
He looked at the fist.  “Uhh…”
“Fistbump?” she offered, gesturing lightly with it.
He didn’t respond.
She dropped it.  “Whatever.  Cake?”  She gestured out somewhere behind him.
He looked, then blinked.  For a moment, there had been nobody there- then, with a blur of color, there was suddenly a girl, with blazing rainbow hair, grinning from ear to ear and holding two plates of cake, complete with cutlery.
“Thank you,” Diamond told the girl, accepting one of the plates, before turning back to him.  “You want some?”
“Eh.”
The rainbow-haired girl responded.  “Oh come on!  It’s amazing!”
He shook his head.
The girl scowled.  “Party pooper.”
A sudden blur of pink replaced the girl with a different one, this one equipped with poofy pink hair, six plates with cake and cutlery on them (which she was juggling with one hand, somehow), and a cannon.  “Did someone saaaay, party pooper?” she demanded.
Diamond chuckled.  “Rainbow did.”  She turned back to Draco.  “Seriously, this cake is to die for.  Try some!”
“Well,” the pink-haired girl mused, putting a hand to her chin and looking contemplatively at the ceiling without interrupting her juggling act, “Not to die for, because you wouldn’t be able to eat it if you died, would you?  Unless,”  Both her hands came up to her face this time, pumping excitedly, the juggling act maintained by her knee.  “Unless it was a ghost cake, now that might be to die for!”
“Ahh…”
“Don’t mind Pinkie,” Diamond chuckled.  “It’s a rare day when she doesn’t confuse me at least once.  Best not to think about it.  But seriously, cake?  Pretty sure she baked it here at the Leaky Cauldron, too.”
“Ahh…  Okay,” he muttered.  “I’ll- er, thank you.”
The pink-haired girl- Pinkie- had placed one of the plates of cake into his hands the moment he’d started to extend them to accept the cake.  The part that amused him the most, was that the slice was utterly undamaged, the cutlery resting neatly on the side of the plate.
Just like the five others she continued juggling with an elbow.
“You’re super-duper welcome!”  Then she vanished, canon, juggling act, and all.
“...  What,” he uttered.
“That’s Pinkie Pie,” Diamond assured him.  “Try not to think about her too much.  Lyra is probably the only one whose head wouldn’t explode by trying to understand her…  and that’s because she’s the one that made it possible.”
“...  Oh.”  He placed the cake on the bar in front of him, lifted the fork, and carved a careful piece out of it.

It was good.
> Chapter 10
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Only two owls fluttered into the Great Hall to deliver mail, and neither one went for Professor McGonagall.  It was the first time in two weeks that had been true.
The sigh across all gathered was clearly audible.
“So that happened,” Dumbledore muttered.
Professor McGonagall turned to Professor Dumbledore.  “Are we past the deadline?”
Dumbledore blinked, and looked down at his watch for a second.  “Ahh, yes, we are.”  The answering sigh of relief, from all of the other staff at once, made him smile.  “So, what’s the final count?”
“Way too many for a single class,” Professor Flitwick stated.
Professor McGonagall nodded as well, brandishing her wand to summon a few dozen large scrolls.  “Yes.  We’ll have to count them next.”





The sun was going down outside by the time the gathered heads of house finished their work in the staffroom.  They had counted the number of names on each of the scrolls the teachers had used when opening letters- and had just set the spell working on the sorting scroll.  It was expected to take much of the remaining month to complete the scroll, but at least it wouldn’t require any more human intervention to fully alphabetize the names onto a single scroll.
Professor Dumbledore added the forty or so numbers together, and rechecked his work, before looking up at the rest.  “It would seem we’ll be having an interesting year,” he mused.
“Oh?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“Did we get six hundred students or something?” Flitwick asked.
Dumbledore shook his head.  “Twelve thousand, two hundred ninety-six.  First-years.”
McGonagall blinked.  “Where are we going to put roughly three thousand first-years per house?  The castle might self-resize, but it doesn’t go that far.”
Snape sighed.  “I hope we won’t have to deal with six thousand students in one class?”
“Definitely not,” Professor McGonagall answered promptly.  “It’s too late to explain it away as a mailing error, or to delay the Hogwarts Express, so we’ll have to rearrange the schedules.”  She scowled.  “Though, it will be…  difficult, at best, to have enough time to teach them all, even if we go for class sizes of a hundred- including upper years, which would end up with all four houses in one class.”
Flitwick winced.  “We’d have, what, minimum a hundred and twenty class sessions per week?”
“That’s…  impossible,” Sprout scowled.  “The greenhouses won’t fit more than thirty at a time.”
“Not to mention that there aren’t a hundred and twenty waking hours in a week, weekends included,” Dumbledore sighed.  “I’ll have to put a few ads in the Daily Prophet…  and hope someone bites.”
Snape and Flitwick both scowled.  “That…”  Flitwick began.
“Sounds like a great way to invite a disaster,” Snape grumbled.  Then he tilted his head.  “Perhaps we could set up an extended teaching program, have our NEWT students to help with the instruction?”
McGonagall tilted her head.  “Possibly.  There aren’t enough of them, though- we’d have to throw in the OWL students as well.  All the way down to the third years, even, and that’s still asking a lot of them.”
Dumbledore nodded slowly.  “...  True.  Across all the required subjects, we currently have a teacher per…  oh, sixty students or so, including upper years.  In order to handle twelve thousand five hundred total students, we’d need…  what, two hundred teachers?”
“And we can’t expect nearly as much teaching activity out of even an NEWT student,” Flitwick chimed in, “or we’d overwhelm them with their own schooling as well- and be virtually guaranteed to get a sub-par educational experience for all involved.  Call it one every, oh, five students, if we go entirely on an extended teaching program.”
“Which computes to twelve hundred,” Dumbledore calculated.  “And we’ve only got two hundred forty returning students- even including second years, and the ones that shouldn’t be at the head of a classroom for any reason.”
“Hmm…  Well, given Professor Binns’ style, we could probably set his first-year classes in an expanded classroom, and batch them by the thousands,” McGonagall muttered.  She looked up at the rest.  “His classes don’t have any practical components, so he uses a lecture-and-homework method, which works fine for large numbers at once.  That should help simplify things at least a little bit.”
“That leaves Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, and flight lessons,” Dumbledore nodded.
McGonagall nodded as well.  “Madam Hooch often complains about having too much free time- and since first years aren’t allowed their own brooms, nor on the teams, she could probably teach them in waves through the year.  Twenty per class, as per normal, with twenty sessions per week, and she tells me it usually takes about three sessions for most students to catch on.  Call it four hundred students every three weeks or so- and with our thirty-six-school-week year…”  She scowled.  “That’d only take care of forty-eight hundred students through the year.  Add a few more sessions, and increase class sizes to thirty, and she will be able to get them all.”  She shrugged.  “The rest of us, however, have much more to teach.”
“What about Princess Twilight Sparkle?” Sprout asked suddenly.
“Pardon?” Snape asked.
“Well, she was working with Lyra- and that Equestrian Secret Service agent- to help the shopping experience go smoothly.  Perhaps we could send her a letter, see how plausible an extended teaching program amongst the first-years would be?  Just because, we already know at least some of our Equestrian students are already masters of their own, just…  not with what we have to teach.  I’d be willing to bet at least some of them will soak it up like a sponge, and be able to pass it on.”
Dumbledore nodded.  “And of course, Princess Twilight Sparkle would be the only one likely to know about that kind of thing.  Worth a shot.”
Snape winced.  “Eh.”
“We’ll have to contact the Ministry too,” Flitwick mused.  “Inform them of the…  anomalous attendance count, and request additional funding.  A hundred and five galleons won’t be enough to cover any one of our subjects with this many students, let alone all of them.”
Dumbledore sighed.  “Yeah.”
“And none of that solves the problem of where they’ll sleep,” McGonagall scowled.
The room fell silent for a second, before Snape spoke up.  “If the castle self-expansion won’t be enough, can we help it along?”
McGonagall winced.  “We could, in theory, but I doubt it’d work out very easily, and we’d risk a lot of damage to the castle.  Completely aside from the time required to walk across a dormitory large enough to fit three thousand students.”
“Hmm,” Dumbledore muttered.  “You know how the dormitories for different years or genders in the same house all occupy the same physical space in the castle?”
McGonagall tilted her head.  That was true; the ancient spellwork of the castle made excellent use of the ‘space’ the dormitories occupied, multilayering the space so that every dormitory of the entire house- across all years and both genders- technically occupied the same physical space, and was only accessible by the entrance.  Even the division rooms, that the seven dormitories for each gender connected to before the stairway to the relevant common room, occupied that same physical space.  “True.  That spatial multilayering is theoretically limitless, so if we further subdivide the first-years by…  oh, last name, then first, as many times as necessary, we should be able to set them up with traditional five-student dormitories.”
“Oh!” Flitwick squeaked.  “We’ll probably want to separate the British students from the Equestrian ones.  They’ll feel mighty lost if we sprinkle them throughout the Equestrians, never be able to connect with anyone in their own room.”
“For that matter,” Dumbledore mused, putting a finger to his chin, “we could take the current split between rooms, and add a door- for the Equestrians, to be subdivided like that.  And have the first-years door be explicitly labeled British first-years…  Or at least, non-Equestrian.”
“That…  Should work,” McGonagall nodded.  “We’ll want to get the spellwork started as soon as we can, to make sure it has the time to set everything up.”  She sighed.  “It’s entirely possible we won’t see anywhere near as even a distribution between houses in the Equestrians as we have seen in British students in the past.”





Draco Malfoy stared at the ceiling.
It was three days after that fateful shopping trip.  Just that day, he’d gone out with his parents for something they couldn’t have gotten during the Hogwarts shopping rush…  and he’d found himself looking for those strange girls.  Not the blue-and-white-haired one Diamond had introduced to him as Lyra (and subsequently smacked, when the girl had started staring again), but all the other, totally unfamiliar ones…  and Diamond herself.
He hadn’t been able to find any of them.  So, lying awake in bed and staring at the ceiling, he was trying to figure out why he had felt disappointed when he hadn’t been able to find the terrifying girl.
Sure, the cake had been nice.  Diamond had introduced him to Pinkie Pie, the baker, and ordered him as much butterbeer as he wanted.  She’d said something about alcohol that he hadn’t understood, beyond that the ‘virgin butterbeer’ she was ordering tasted no different from the regular, and unlike the regular, he could have as much as he wanted of it without getting drunk.
She'd then taken him around the room, and introduced him to various people.  And of course, the way she occasionally said it as “Po- er, people” was nothing shy of cute.
She’d introduced him to a few very important people…  who all, for some reason, seemed to be coming to Hogwarts this year.
There was Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria.  Diamond had half-bowed to her, before stopping herself and apologizing.  When Draco had made a full bow, Luna had explained Diamond’s odd bowing behavior, saying something about ‘on vacation from princesshood’, and how she wanted “everyp- everyone” to treat her like they would anyone else.
There was Princess Twilight Sparkle, who she introduced as a princess but didn’t treat like a princess.  For some reason he never learned, Princess Twilight had mentioned wishing ponies would quit bowing to her…  then blushed cherry red and clammed up.  Diamond had laughed it off and changed the topic, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was doing it deliberately.
Then she’d brought him to the booth with Lyra in it.  She’d introduced him to her ‘moms’, Lyra Heartstrings and Bonbon…  who were both the same age as she.  Then, when Lyra stared at him, she’d smacked the girl.  Lyra had argued with her briefly…  until Bonbon said something about ‘as bad as Spoiled’, that made all the color drain out of Lyra’s face in evident terror.  When he’d asked what ‘spoiled’ she was talking about, Diamond had answered quickly.
“We don’t talk about her.”
She’d said it with such a finality that he’d had to wonder if that was how they referred to The Dark Lord, instead of ‘You Know Who’ or the like.  So, he hadn’t asked.
At that same booth, she’d introduced him to two other girls, Cloudchaser and Spitfire.  The latter of which, reportedly, was the captain of the ‘Wonderbolts’...  which she had characterized as the Equestrian ‘Air Force’, whatever that was.  He’d pretended to understand more than just that it made the girl a very dangerous girl.
He’d then been introduced to a series of lesser figures.  Three mischievous-looking girls, named Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Applebloom.  A boy with a scowl at least twice as wide as it should have been, simply named ‘Discord’, and the shy girl with the pink hair seated next to him, Fluttershy.
Eventually, she had introduced him to another boy, seated peacefully at the side of the room and relaxing while he sipped his butterbeer, that she called her father:  Filthy Rich.
If he was entirely honest with himself, that wasn’t the strangest name he’d heard that day.
The boy had definitely come from a rich family; he had that refined look to him.  But, he’d also been the same age as Diamond, so couldn’t possibly have been her father.  He did put on a look of amusement when she labeled him as such, and asked Diamond if she was having fun.  If he was entirely honest with himself, the boy did behave more like what he would’ve expected of an adult.  He didn’t ooze the noble-of-the-land that his father did, and that he was required to ooze himself, but his behaviors did put him squarely in the social elite, in the rich sector.
Then Diamond had told him that Filthy owned and operated a bank in her hometown…  which, even when he asked, she wouldn’t tell him what the town was called.  After that, they’d found an empty booth in the corner of the pub to chat in for the rest of the time.
There had been some interesting revelations.  For instance, when he’d asked the question that had been bugging him- in his father’s voice- ever since he’d accepted the cake, she hadn’t had a clue what he was talking about with ‘blood purity’.  He’d taken that as a bad sign, and purposely not jumped to conclusions as he explained the whole pureblood-versus-muggleborn thing.
She’d laughed, and informed him that she and all the rest of the Equestrians belonged to ‘none of the above’...  and that, while they might have no ‘wizard blood’ in their veins as he would know it, not a single one of them had a non-magical ancestor that had lived within the last ‘few thousand years’.  Reportedly, ‘nop- nobody’ knew about anything that had happened before a certain point, but they did know that at least some magic had already developed by that point…  and everyone had it.
He had also heard that Twilight was the scholar of the entire town, and that if he had questions for more details, he’d have to ask her instead.  He’d asked, and confirmed- she was indeed talking about Princess Twilight.
He scowled at the ceiling.  So, why had he found himself hoping he’d meet that girl again, that girl that was on a first name basis with a member of her royalty?  Neither he nor his father were on a first name basis with any other nobles, up to and including Minister for Magic Fudge!
Was it because she was on a first name basis with a member of her royalty, yet seemed so careless at the same time?
> Chapter 11
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione stared at the solid metal barrier between platforms nine and ten.
It was time.  Well, it was two minutes past ten in the morning, but neither she nor her parents were fans of being anywhere close to late.
“You ready?” Emma, her mom, asked her.
She took a deep breath.
“We can come onto the station with you,” Dan, her dad, reassured.  She knew that; so long as they are touching her- or any other witch or wizard- the first time they go through the barrier, they should be able to pass through it at will, just like she should be able to.
She nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m ready.  I think.”  She resisted the urge to glance up at them.
Ever since she’d opened up some of the extracurricular books she’d gotten from Flourish and Blotts, she’d been dreading the day she’d board the train to Hogwarts.
The day she’d next meet the boy Dudley’s gang liked chasing around the schoolyard.  She’d seen him clearly before, knew his name- but never thought much of him.
Until she’d read Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts…  and learned that he was famous.  Like, the famous Harry Potter.
She dreaded meeting him, and having him condemn her for changing the color of that teacher’s wig…  or for not standing up for him.  Not that she could have stopped Dudley or any single one of his gang members if she tried, as she never had that fine of control over her ‘Accidental Magic’ and has always been on the weak side, physically.  Besides, she had no idea how Harry survived some of the beatings Dudley had given him.  She’d studied a couple of them from afar, for her research paper- the one that the teacher gave her a hundred and ten percent on- and concluded that she would have been killed several times over, had she been in his place.
It wasn’t a happy thought.  She hoped- prayed- she wouldn’t have to enlist a few of the ‘Etrah’ Equestrians to protect her from him.  Which, actually, she had good hopes for that- the times she’d seen, he never really fought back with any force.  The blows he’d given Dudley and gang when they’d caught him, before they could pin his arms, amounted to panicked blows.  And, by her math, they might’ve bruised her, had he been attacking her, but that would have been it.
Perhaps it was how he always seemed so small, almost stunted, at school?  Perhaps he was undernourished, so his muscles couldn’t grow properly, leaving him understrength?  Or maybe it was something he did just because, when he already knew he was screwed?
She shook her head to clear it.  Something to worry about later…  hopefully.  “Okay.  I…  Can we go slowly?  Just in case it doesn’t work?”
“You sure you’re ready, Hermione?” Dan asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she stated, and started forwards at a steady walk.
Now that she was thinking about it again, the Equestrians…  had a very peculiarly named country.  Did Equestria have anything to do with the Equestrian peoples she’d found in her books?  Was it named after a large population of them?
She was drawing closer to the barrier, and focused her mind on it, losing speed.  If it didn’t work, and she crashed into it, she didn’t want anything to go flying.  She felt her parents’ comforting hands on her shoulders- and as much as she knew they needed it to make it across the barrier, she also knew they only needed the barest of touches, and were deliberately going beyond that.
She counted down the last few feet, then inches, in her mind, ready for whatever the transit would feel like…  or the collision.
Then, just as suddenly as a collision would have been, the scenery around her changed.
The transition was seamless; she was just suddenly on the platform.
Both her parents were looking around, trying to reassert their location; she quickly joined them.
While the station outside had been the normal hustle and bustle of the train station, Platform Nine and Three Quarters- identified by the wrought iron archway she’d just come in through- was pandemonium.  There were only a few Equestrians visible, off on one far side of the station, doing something with a couple of strange towers with what looked like chains of symbols glowing all over them.  Lyra seemed to be inspecting and manipulating them with threads of golden light from her fingers, while Bonbon looked to be on the phone…  which Hogwarts: A History informed her wouldn’t work at Hogwarts.  She found herself briefly hoping, for their sake, that they read that as well, and leave their technology at home.
The rest of the station had what looked like fully grown witches and wizards running up and down it and shouting things at each other, in front of the train.
She stopped to look at the train, blinking a few times.
There was a scarlet steam locomotive, with its tender, with the words Hogwarts Express written on the sides.
There were nine matching scarlet passenger coaches with golden livery, the Hogwarts emblem, and so on.
Then there were dozens, hundreds, of passenger coaches coupled behind those.  Some of them were a different shape, and at least one still had ‘Amtrak’ written on it, a team of wizards working quickly to turn it a plain scarlet.
And in front of the scarlet locomotive were four bright yellow diesel-electric monstrosities, ‘Union Pacific’ written across their sides, and a massive black steam locomotive at the head with its equally massive tender.
She blinked twice.
Why, exactly, was the Hogwarts Express pulled by one passenger locomotive and five freight locomotives, four of which were diesel-electric?
One of the calls going up from the wizards running back and forth down the train- interesting, it looked like they had extended the platform by quite a ways, and in a hurry at that- then caught her attention:  “Ack!  The first ones are here!”
“Are we…  early?” Dan muttered.
One of the Equestrians trotted over- one with a teal stripe in her wavy purple hair.  “Hello!  Coming a bit early, I guess?”
“Er, yeah,” Dan answered the girl.  “Who might you be?”
The girl blinked, looking taken aback, for about a second, before she shook it off.  “Oh, sorry.  I’m…  used to everyone knowing who I am.  The name’s Starlight Glimmer- and you would be?”
“Emma and Dan Granger,” Dan gestured to Emma.  “And this is our daughter, Hermione.”
“Hermione?” She sounded mildly surprised.  “Sweet!”  She offered her hand for Hermione to shake.  “Nice to meet you!  I didn’t get to participate in any of Pinkie’s parties, but Lyra had a lot to say about you- and all good.”  A sigh.  “I’m almost certainly going to be a Slytherin, though, and she said there’s about no chance you’ll end up there.  Regardless, let’s have a good, fun year, eh?”
Hermione grinned, and chuckled lightly, accepting the hand…  and wondering which tribe Starlight belonged to.  Whichever one it was, she could feel a certain strength to the girl’s hand, though it was a metered strength.  So, Aether or Etrah, then.  The ones with strength boost.  “Nice to meet you too,” she muttered.
Then Starlight glanced over at the train.  “And yeah, you’re a bit early.  We asked- they normally start seeing the first few early birds in about…”  She glanced at her wristwatch, which immediately demonstrated itself to be a smartwatch.  “Twenty-five minutes or so.”  She glanced back up at the train.  “So, they’ll be ready for us to start boarding in another fifteen minutes, according to what they told us earlier.”
“...  Ahh,” she muttered.  “So, what’re you doing here?”
She shrugged.  “Security, mostly.  Lyra’s here right now, so I don’t really need to worry about it- but it’s my job to keep people off her stuff while she’s at the other side.”
“So, what is she doing?”
“Mm?”  She turned back to the odd pillars, and grinned.  “She and Twilight are one-upping old Starswirl the Bearded, and building a portal that Equestrians can walk through to get from our base directly to this station.  And only Equestrians- any non-Equestrians that tried passing would simply get wet, since they’re making the portal surface out of water.”  She shrugged.  “The concept build in their backyards last week worked flawlessly, so they’ve been working on this much bigger one.  At this point, she’s just pentuple-checking her work here, while Twilight gets the other end.  I think she’s doing it mostly just to make Twilight happy- with her perfect recall, she doesn’t need to look it over again to be sure it’s perfect.”  She grinned.  “And- don’t tell Twilight- she gave it a trial run last night, it’s already confirmed to be working nicely.”
“Okay.”  She looked up at the train.  “Do you know why there’s so many freight locomotives on a passenger train?”
Starlight grinned.  “Yep!  That’s because that’s how many they needed to pull the number of cars they had to tack onto that thing in order to fit twelve and a half thousand students.”  She snorted.  “Speaking of which, the train is about four and a half miles long, if you happen to fancy walking from one end to the other.  We’ve arranged for a magic-based speed-travel, so the Equestrians can take all the trailing cars, and the non-Equestrians can take the lead cars.  Feel free to mix, if you like, but that way everyone can get onto the train in a reasonable amount of time.”
“Ahh,” she muttered.  “I…”  She looked at the train again.  “...  Did they run out of space or something?”
Starlight chuckled.  “Heh heh, you could say, yes.  Thing is, because Lyra opened the gateway from Equestria to your world a couple months back, Hogwarts’ attendance lists changed rather dramatically.  I understand they normally only have about three hundred students at the school each year, and this year, we’ve boosted that count by at least forty times.  Speaking of which…”  She turned back to the other Equestrians, and called out to them.  “Lyra!”
Lyra looked up from the tower thing, wearing an expression of immense boredom that vanished in an instant, before she came jogging over.  “Oh, hey, Hermione!  Yes, Starlight?”
Starlight grinned.  “Well, I just told her about Hogwarts’ attendance anomaly, and I believe you had something you wanted to ask?”
Lyra grinned.  “Yep!  How much did you cover?”
“Just the general information, really.”
“Hmm,” Lyra muttered, looking at Hermione for a second, before dropping her hand back down from her chin.  “Well, Hermione, you know about how massively we’ve overloaded Hogwarts this year, right?”
“Uhh,” she muttered.  “She said attendance went up by at least forty times?”
Lyra nodded.  “Yeah, thereabouts.  We don’t know the exact number, because we don’t have attendance counts for non-Equestrian students, but…”  She shrugged.  “Anyways, we’ve been in contact with Hogwarts over the last month.  They haven’t been able to hire any additional teachers- and expecting the teachers they have to manage all of us would be expecting the impossible of them- there just aren’t enough hours in a week, even if food, sleep, homework grading, and so on all took no time at all.”
Hermione blinked.  “Then…”
Dan tilted his head.  “Does that mean they’ll be dropping students?”
Lyra smiled, and shook her head.  “No- that’s what we’ve been working with them about.  Many of our Equestrian students are already masters in their own right- and even of the ones that aren’t, many of us will pick up new material virtually instantly, and/or be gifted in that particular material.  So, we’ve set up an extended teaching program with the Hogwarts staff, so they only need to teach one class, and we’ll handle the rest, passing on the lessons we receive to our peers, such that everyone gets a good education out of it.
“Of course, in an effort to expand the talent pool, among other things, we haven’t restricted that search to Equestrians.  We haven’t been able to interact very much with very many of the non-Equestrian students, but of the ones we have been able to meet, we’ve been able to identify two that would be good matches for that program.”
“Uhh…” Dan muttered.
“Are you telling me…?” Hermione muttered.
“That you’re one of those two?  Yes.  It’s completely optional, don’t worry- and you wouldn’t be alone at the head of that classroom, either.  You’d have at least one other student-teacher with you, to help cover any deficiencies and provide a quality learning experience for all involved.”  She shrugged.  “And a crash course with some of our finest before your first class, so you would at least know what to expect.”
“So…  what happens if I say yes?”
Lyra shrugged.  “Then you’re on the list.  I can’t guarantee anything until after the sorting ceremony, but I can say that if you say yes, you will most likely be tapped for such a role.  If you say no, I can guarantee you won’t.  And the deadline for that decision would be bedtime tonight, if you want to think on it a bit first.  I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reach out to you sooner- we only finalized the agreement with the school late last night.”
She could almost feel her parents raising their eyebrows; they know her.
“No, no,” she began.  “I’ll do it.  I was just surprised.”  She looked up at her parents, who were smiling down at her.  “I’m going to have a good year.”
> Chapter 12
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione glanced at the clock, standing nervously on the step into the train car.  Unless she had missed him or the massive clock over the entrance archway was off, Harry had about eight minutes left to board the train, and hadn’t entered the station yet at all.  She glanced sideways at the Equestrians' portal, just as it finished spewing hypervelocity students down the station, and Lyra started shutting it down.
Watching her power it up had been…  entertaining.  Had she understood a single thing about what all those light patterns were doing, she might’ve called it educational as well, but she hadn’t.
First, between the two pillars, a film of energy was formed.  She’d expected that to become the portal surface, but quickly found out that it wasn’t, as Lyra pumped water into it…  and that water flowed up effortlessly into a six-foot-tall sheet a millimeter thick and at least fifty feet across.  Then, energy waves had battled across the surface of the water, coming from the two pillars, until they formed a dense layer of vibrantly glowing energy overtop the water…  and finally cleared, to show the Equestrians on the other side.  The Equestrians that then stepped through the opened portal.
Shutting it down appeared to be much simpler.  The portal seemed to shimmer and twist as it slowly collapsed away from the pillars, which had gone mostly dark.  Eventually, it vanished completely and Lyra, apparently satisfied, turned to walk away, the energy film holding the water in place simply vanishing…  leaving the station platform to get a little wet.
She turned to look back at the station entrance just in time for someone to appear, walking briskly.  Her breath caught for only a half-second, though, before the red hair registered.  Not Harry, then.  Funny, he must not be the only one running late…  unless, of course, she missed him.
She continued to watch eagerly.  The portal was silent for almost thirty seconds…  then a much smaller boy with a mop of messy black hair exploded through it at a dead run.
She recognized him from across the entire station.
That was Harry.
She looked up at the clock.  He was okay- according to the clock, he still had six minutes to board.
She watched him look around, stop running, and stare at the train.
She jumped off to run over to him, and stopped several feet away.  “H…  Harry?”
He looked at her.  “Yes…?”
“I’m sorry.”
He blinked.  “Come again?”
She took a deep breath.  “I- I’m sorry about that teacher’s wig.  And that I never even tried to stop Dudley.”
Harry blinked a few times, staring at her, before letting out a laugh.  “Nah, don’t worry about it.  The Dursleys would just have found something else to lock me in my cupboard for, and if you’d interfered with Dudley, you’d just have gotten beat up alongside me.”  He shrugged.  “Or had to explain to your parents how you got on top of the chimney.”
She shrugged.  “That would’ve been easy.”  She’d just have explained it away as one of the random things she hadn’t yet gained control of, and they would have accepted it.
He snorted.  “I wish.”
The sudden movement of the minute hand on the clock caught her attention, and she looked up at it.  “We have three minutes to get on the train.”
Harry blinked.  “Right.”  He put his weight behind his trolley once again, pushing it towards the train.  “Wait, where’s your luggage?”
She blushed.  “It’s, ahh, already on the train, actually.  Would…  Would you like to join me?”
He shrugged, completely oblivious to her continued reddening.  “Sure.”
Then Lyra trotted up next to them, as they reached the door into the train.  “Oh, hi Harry!”
Harry jumped, turning to look at her.  “Oh.  Hi Lyra.”
Lyra blinked.  “Uh, by the way, that envelope can also forewarn you of people approaching from behind- it’s omnidirectional, if you want it to be.  Um…  Would you like some help?”  Hermione had just made a huge heave on the end of the trunk, trying to lift it up the step, but she couldn’t get it to budge.
“Uh- Yes, please,” Harry answered.
The trunk promptly glowed faintly golden and floated into the air.  Hermione gasped in surprise, and fell over backwards, into the train car.  She scrambled back to her feet, thankful that she had elected to wear jeans under her Hogwarts robes for the first few days at least, rather than the skirts that the girls were rather unsubtly urged to wear.  “Oof…  Um, a little warning next time?”  She looked at Lyra.
Lyra winced.  “Sorry about that.  It’s just…  Well, I’m a Raeth.  It’s what we do.”


With Lyra’s help, it took only a matter of seconds to get Harry’s trunk stowed in Hermione’s compartment as well, then Lyra closed the compartment door, and sighed.  “Well then.  Harry, I have something to ask you.”
Hermione blinked.  “Wait.  You mean- is he- ?”
Lyra nodded.
“Oh.”  She blushed, and busied herself with looking out the window.  A whistle blew, almost instantly drowned out by the noise of the diesel-electric locomotives’ air horns.
Lyra then explained the teaching thing to Harry, and asked if he wanted to participate.  Hermione kept watch on the second hand of the clock on the top of the archway.
“...  You really think I’d be able to do that?” Harry asked.  “I haven’t…  studied, or anything.”
Lyra shrugged.  “So?  Neither have any of the rest of us.  This isn’t about how much you know already, but how much you can learn and pass on.  Which is quite a lot.  Interested, or no?”
He shrugged.  “Why not?  Yeah, I’ll do it.”
“Oh-kay,” Lyra smiled, rising to her feet.  “Thank you!  Now, Bonbon’s going to be expecting me about fifteen cars down the train, so-!”
“Wait,” Hermione said suddenly, snagging the girl’s wrist with one hand.
“Mm?”
“The…  Equestrian nation.  Equestria.  It doesn’t happen to be related to the Equestrian peoples, does it?”
Lyra tilted her head confusedly, then nodded in sudden recognition.  “Right, yes.  Er, to answer your question, no, there is no relationship whatsoever.  I mean, we have centaurs, griffins, hippogriffs, and so on on our side as well, but they’re very different from the ones you have here.”
“Ahh.”
“Well then,” Lyra continued.  “If you don’t have any more questions…?  Whelp, I’m off.”  She bowed, and closed the door.
Hermione took a deep breath.  “Sooo…”
“So that happened,” Harry muttered- and paused, briefly, when the train began to move.  “How was…  magical life?”
She let out a snort.  “I’m not a very good sample for that.  For one, I’m muggleborn- and for two, my…  ‘accidental magic’ was very potent from very early on, to the point where I’ve learned to control a few little bits of it.  Weird, mostly random bits, of course- like, I can start the microwave without touching it, but it doesn’t work with the oven.  So…  I had a bit of a weird childhood.  Then Professor McGonagall showed up, and I found out I was a witch.”  She looked up at him.  “Earlier, Lyra said something about an ‘envelope’...  If you don’t mind me asking, what envelope?”
He blinked.  “Oh, that.  About a month ago, she stopped me in the Leaky Caldron to tell me about some kind of ‘love envelope’ that I have…  apparently.  Still don’t understand any of it- and she tells me I can use it to learn people’s names without asking.”  He shrugged.  “I’ve tried.  All I’ve been able to get, though, was what mood someone is in- not particularly useful, since Dudley flees in terror every time I enter the room, ever since Hagrid came.”
She blinked.  “...  Huh.”





Draco Malfoy knew that his father would disapprove of what he was doing to Crabbe and Goyle.
They didn’t realize anything was off, of course.  Why would they?  They were about as perceptive as brick walls!  So, fully aware of the number of cars the Hogwarts Express normally had, he had started his search for Mr. Harry Potter in the tenth car and progressed towards the back of the train…  such that he was virtually certain the boy was behind him.  The two cronies fully believed that he was making a thorough search of the train, and hadn’t skipped nine entire cars.  He’d only had to mumble some gobbledegook about ‘sensor nets’ and ‘extra cars’ and he could be sure they couldn’t catch his folly if they tried.
Of course, he wasn’t really looking for Harry.  He was not looking forward to being forced, for ‘social reasons’ he didn’t understand, to abduct the boy into his way of life- the way of life he despised with every little bit of his being.
Instead, he was looking for that Diamond Tiara girl…  and praying that four and a half miles would be enough cars to take up the entire journey with ‘searching’ for the boy.
Assuming, of course, that Diamond Tiara doesn’t think of some clever way to ditch his bodyguards for him.
Exactly as expected, he’d encountered almost exclusively Equestrians… and Gryffindors.  The only exception, after the first car at least, was a first year, and one that he rather suspected would be a Gryffindor at that.
He was in car number twelve- the third car of his search- when he heard a voice behind him, that made him cringe.
“Malfoy?”  It was the voice of Lyra Heartstrings, sounding surprised.
He turned, hoping, praying Diamond was with her.
She was alone.  And Crabbe and Goyle were cracking their knuckles, so she was standing in what could only be a ready stance, her face showing a calculated nonexpression as she watched them.
It was terrifying.
He stepped between them, purposely putting himself between them and her.  They were too thick to not start a fight if he didn’t preempt it.
She regarded him for a second, then them for another second, before relaxing her stance and expression.  “...  Huh.  Are those two always like that?”  She sounded disgusted.
He nodded minutely.  If only she knew.  “What?”
She wrinkled her nose.  “Ew.  Anyways, what brings you back this far on the train?”
He nearly winced.  “Looking for Harry Potter.”  He glared briefly in Crabbe’s direction without turning his head; neither of the two will have seen it, but Lyra will have.
He saw her eyes narrow briefly, and her answering minute nod, before she put her hand to her chin.  “Hmm, I don’t know.  I’ve been looking for him too, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere I check.  Think he mighta gotten left behind?  I know I didn’t see him come through the gateway onto the platform, so…  Maybe the muggles didn’t let him near the station?”
He blinked.  He had seen her out the window earlier, talking to Harry, before he’d disappeared from view; neither Crabbe nor Goyle had seen.  Yet, had he not seen that, her performance was completely convincing.  Was she good at that kind of thing?  “You mean he’s not coming to Hogwarts?”  He messed up the tone a little bit, but got it mostly okay.
She laughed.  “Oh, no, he’s coming alright, I’m sure Dumbledore will make sure of that, probably send Hagrid to his house again…  or visit in person, possibly.  He just wouldn’t be coming on the train in that case.  Bit of a disappointment, isn’t it?”
He blinked.  She was really good at that- he’d be willing to bet even his father would be convinced!  “...  Yeah.”
She sighed, shaking her head.  “Anyways, I know Diamond was looking for you earlier, said something about ‘good conversation with someone less destructive than the Crusaders’.”
“Less-!?” he began, eyes going wide.

She chuckled.  “Don’t worry, just about everyone fits that description.  She’s just not a people person, though, so it’s pretty rare for her to find someone she can connect to.  Like you, apparently.  I think she was staring out the window in the second compartment down in car twenty-one, if you wanted to go chat with her.”  She grinned, glancing at Crabbe and Goyle.  “And your cronies had better watch out with her, because unlike me, she’s an Etrah.”  She abruptly pushed past Crabbe, and trotted down the passage before he could recover.  “Have a good train ride, whatever you do!”
> Chapter 13
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a very long time since Draco could truthfully say that he had been even remotely happy, so it surprised him when he realized that much of the train ride to Hogwarts qualified as just that.
Lyra had given him the perfect excuse to abandon his search for Harry.  Then, when he reached the compartment she’d mentioned, Diamond had turned out to be alone- and given him the perfect excuse to ditch Crabbe and Goyle.
Well, if he could call batting them away with flicks of her wrist when they tried to attack her an ‘excuse’.  In the process, she’d made him instantly glad he was on her good side; when Crabbe had tried to punch her for some reason even he couldn’t figure out, she’d flicked it aside, stretched out her hand, and flicked her wrist against his chest…  to throw him down on the ground.
She wasn’t just strong, she was scary strong.
After she’d dealt with Goyle in a similar manner, he’d then accompanied her out of the compartment while they were still dazed on the seats.  She’d led him some four or five cars down the train to another empty compartment, which the two blundering idiots had never found…  and they’d chatted for the entire train ride.
He’d fully relaxed in the compartment, once Diamond had locked the door.  He’d laid down across the seat, spoken freely…  and genuinely enjoyed himself.
Too bad it couldn’t last.
So of course, with no idea where Crabbe and Goyle had gotten to, he had gotten off with her…  and resumed his ‘noble’ persona.  Diamond didn’t like it, and if he was honest with himself, neither did he, but he didn’t have much choice, because of reasons he didn’t understand.
Of course, getting off the train at the 30th car meant a few things, and one was very important:  He was in the middle of the Equestrians.  He stayed with Diamond, who would make easily a hundred times better of a bodyguard than both Crabbe and Goyle put together…  which had an extra side effect.
When twelve thousand first-years followed Hagrid down to the lake, all the British students got in the boats…  but all the boats were full by the time Diamond and Draco reached the lake, so he ended up doing exactly what the Equestrians were doing:  Walking on water.  Should anyone ask, he would later vehemently deny having held onto Diamond’s arm for dear life while he slid across the lake on nothing more than a wisp of bluish light.
It certainly didn’t comfort him that Diamond seemed uneasy about sliding across the lake like that too- but at least she didn’t seem afraid, just uncertain.
When they landed at the underground harbor, Diamond took a deep breath, let it out, and turned to him.  “You okay?”
He, having taken the same time to reassert himself, nodded.  “Yes.  What about you?”
She sighed.  “I’m alright.  Sorry about that- as an Etrah, I’m used to having my h-feet planted on solid ground.  Standing on mere magic like that is something only the Aethrs would be familiar with…  and even then, that wasn’t the kind of magic they’d normally stand on.”  She glanced back towards the harbor as they climbed the stairs away from it; more Equestrians were still arriving at it as the first-years streamed up the steps.  “The way I hear it, Sunset bullied the air into accepting some derivative of that magic, that let us walk on empty air- something even the Aethrs can’t normally do.”  She shuddered.  “I hope that’s the only time I ever have to ‘air-skate’ across a lake.”
He nodded honestly.  “Me too.”  Judging by the noises from around him, most of the Equestrians were of the same mind.  Air-skating across a lake was scary business.
Diamond kept him company all the way up to the main front doors of the castle, and inside as well, where the teacher that answered the door left them in a rather large room off the side of the entrance hall, and told them to ‘smarten themselves up’ for the sorting.
“How do they sort us…?” Draco asked Diamond quietly.
She shrugged.  “No idea.  I understand the scholars among us searched long and hard for that, but couldn’t find it- almost like it’s some kind of secret.  But it can’t be all that hard if everyone- including Crabbe and Goyle- can be expected to go through it successfully.”
“Point.”





Hermione wasn’t sure what to think.
She, along with the rest of the first-years, had been brought to this room pending their sorting.  Through all her research, while she’d been able to find six conflicting accounts on the Slytherin House, she hadn’t been able to find a single note on what the sorting was.  The part that had amused her the most was that she’d found no less than three conflicting accounts for each of the other houses…  but one of the three invariably had three more that agreed with it, and happened to be the one that Lyra’s account agreed with.  Perhaps that’s how Lyra got her info on them?
Then again, could those agreeing accounts be trusted?
Could anything she read in the wizarding world be trusted?
She’d tried to find other sources on what the sorting would be like- but the few Equestrians she’d asked back on the station had just shrugged and used variations on the ‘find out when we get there’ theme.  Of course, when two redheaded boys had peeked into her compartment looking for Harry, she’d noticed how Harry seemed a little uneasy- and denied having seen him.  They didn’t recognize him, and were about to go, when she stopped them- they were upper years- to ask about the sorting.
One said something about wrestling a troll, while the other said it hurt a lot.
Given that all the accounts in her books tended to agree that trolls were massive and dangerous, and required multiple trained wizards to take down, she rather doubted that was the case.  And since the two boys had nodded in response to each other, she’d immediately begun to suspect that they were trying to be funny, and let them go, internally labelling their suggestions as very likely false.
Her ride- and conversation- with Harry had gone uninterrupted from that point to arrival, with the sole exception of the snack trolley they’d bought some of everything from…  and when she stepped out of the compartment to let Harry change into his school robes, of course; she’d changed before he ever arrived at the station.
He hadn’t had a clue what to expect, either.  He’d voiced that he thought he’d be at the bottom of the class- and, while she fully expected to be at the top of class herself (as she usually was), she had immediately disagreed.  She didn’t know where he could expect to be in the class lineup, but she had assured him that some people knew even less about their magic before they went, and still came out in the top of class.  She’d even surmised that some of the wizarding students might be at a disadvantage, because they might have to un-learn something they learned incorrectly from their parents!
Then, that teacher- presumably- had brought them in here, told everyone to “smarten yourselves up”, and disappeared to prepare.  What was going on?  Were they going to test how much they’d studied already, and put those that could already do magic in Ravenclaw?  Were they going to unleash a troll, and put those that didn’t run screaming in Gryffindor?  Were they going to make them stand and wait, and put the ones that didn’t check the time during the first ten minutes in Hufflepuff?  Were they going to…  She couldn’t think of anything for Slytherin off the top of her head.
But wait- she’d also said, ‘sorting ceremony’.  Sorting ceremony.  Not ‘test’, not ‘trial’.  Not even a simple ‘sorting’.  Specifically a ceremony.
And anyone could go through any part of a ceremony.  Those were all just acting anyways.
So what in the world could it be?
Very suddenly, something happened- the door opened.  That teacher was back.
It was time to be sorted.
It was time to find out what it was all about.
> Chapter 14
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Abacus, Golden.”
The Sorting Hat watched amusedly as the first years shuffled about, as the first one this year- and with a strange name, to boot- worked their way forward.  There looked to be about twelve thousand, two hundred ninety…  six of them, by her quick count.  And of course, she hadn’t missed the immensely powerful and unfamiliar spellwork that had gone up over the entire Great Hall immediately after Minerva gave them their instructions.
Nor the much more subtle, and equally unfamiliar, spell that had blanketed all of the first-years before they had finished entering the room.  Of course, anyone and anything that wasn’t as sensitive as she, including the esteemed Albus Dumbledore, wouldn’t have a clue they were there, but she didn’t particularly care.  It didn’t seem hostile, to the school or otherwise.
Golden Abacus made it out of the crowd, and turned out to be a girl, with brilliantly red hair, and a lot of energy.  The girl tipped her in salute to the four houses before putting her on; she was sorely tempted to call the girl out as a Gryffindor before she even landed on her head.
When she did land, she got…
…  nothing.  That more subtle spell was blocking her normal access, but it wasn’t sourced from this girl.  She couldn’t tell where it was sourced from- and started contemplating on how to communicate the issue.
Then, very suddenly, that subtle spell shifted, ever so slightly, and she had access.
If she’d had a jaw, in the normal sense, it would have fallen to the floor under Golden’s feet.  She most certainly wasn’t a normal first-year- as a matter of fact, she wasn’t even human.
The girl was, in fact, twenty three years old…  and a gold-colored pegasus, with an abacus as her ‘Cutie Mark’, whatever that was.
And of course, when that spell had shifted to give her access, a message had preceded the flow from the girl’s mind, placed no doubt by the spellcaster.  Do not reveal what you find.
Which posed no problem, because she only read peoples’- and ponies’, apparently- minds in order to sort them…  and never shared anything she found in anyone’s- or anypony’s- mind with anyone- or anypony- else.
There was something rather indisputable about the girl’s mind, though, right from the start.
She was a…
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Besides, she had over twelve thousand more Equestrians to look at.  She didn’t need to spend too much time examining their civilization through the eyes of one…  and could always recall it later, thanks to her photographic memory.
“Abbot, Hannah.”
That name sounded human, compared to the names she’d found in little-old Golden Abacus’ mind.  And, true to the name, the girl turned out to be a regular British human.
“HUFFLEPUFF!”





Her next surprise came when she landed on the head of the girl that had responded to “Bonbon”.  The girl had approached in a manner that had made her wonder if she’d be a Slytherin, then…
To find out she was actually a thirty-five-year-old earth pony was completely unsurprising.  She’d come to expect that kind of thing from the Equestrians by that point.
The real surprise was that the girl was not just a member but one of the absolute finest amongst a secret Equestrian government organization termed the ‘Royal Intelligence Agency’...  or, simply, the ‘Agency’.
She was a trained spy, monster hunter, and so on.  She could crumple steel in her bare hands, without breaking a sweat.  She could stop a train with a one-hoofed kick- even Applejack, the apple farmer that harvested apples by kicking trees, couldn’t do anything like that.
This girl wasn’t dangerous.  Her hooves, now hands and feet, were weapons of mass destruction.  Her eyes and ears were the most powerful- and undetectable- scrying spells there were.
She was a force of nature.
She also already knew her mind would be read.  Her friend Lyra Heartstrings had told her, via…  telepathy?  Very few first-years knew how to do that!
“You’re not going to tell anyone, right?” the girl asked.
“I will not,” she answered.  “The contents of your mind are yours and yours alone.”
She was on the edge of trying for an agreement with the girl- to reduce the potential danger to the school- when she realized what mission the seasoned fighter was on.
Her mission…  was to keep her fellow Equestrians safe as a first priority, but the second priority was to help the school year go smoothly.  Which, the girl understood, meant minimizing destruction.
There was a lot of cold logic in those orders, and in how she had understood them…  but she had to conclude that, powerful though she may be, this girl was not a danger to the school.  Then…
Sorting her was easy enough.  She wasn’t brave, so much as fearless.  She believed in honesty, but had absolutely no issue with hiding the truth for the greater good- which reminded her of someone a very long time ago.  And she didn’t seek knowledge, so much as she sought the ability to perform her part.
But it was only thanks to her expert leadership that the Equestrians had managed to get all their stuff on time.  She had created and used resources most wouldn’t even have thought of, and would always complete her mission on schedule, no matter what.  She was the very best there was by a fairly large margin, but still sought to become better- and had identified for herself many points in which she could still improve.
Oh, and she was all that at the very young age of thirty-five.  Apparently, Equestrians normally lived for as long as four hundred years.
Perhaps more so than old Salazar himself, this girl was very definitely…
“SLYTHERIN!”





When Professor McGonagall called the name “Discord”, she had a very…  peculiar experience.
The boy did his best to break the timeline, using his very unique magic, because he apparently wanted to be sorted instantly, and without ever touching the hat.
She agreed whole-heartedly that such a sorting would fall perfectly in line with who he was, and help him get started on his life’s mission of sowing harmless chaos.
Well, as much as an immortal draconequus that was born alongside the magic of his homeworld at least eighty thousand years ago could have a life’s mission.  As a matter of fact, as she dug a little deeper, she found that he hadn’t been born alongside that magic, and also technically wasn’t alive- he was the avatar of that magic.
Fairly rare she got to sort one of those.
It was certainly a novel experience.  He had all the information she could need right up front for her to look at, and decide.
“Making chaos already, eh?” she muttered.
He grinned.  “Yep.  Figured I could get started with being sorted without wearing the hat.  Any other ideas?”
She chuckled.  That was true, he wasn’t satisfied with only his hat trick.  “Hmm…  I know a lot of people like whistling while they work here- perhaps you could whistle something that can’t normally be whistled?”
“Oooh, I like that one!  I could whistle Bethoven’s Fifth!  …  No, that’s too close to possibility.  An orchestra?  Nah, too far out- it’d just pass over their heads.  Hmm…”
“How about a drum solo?”
He snapped a talon, despite not having any in his current human form.  “Ah-HAH, thank you!  That’ll be perfect!”
She chuckled.  “Alright then.  SLYTHERIN!”  Time unfroze for the final word…  and everyone, including the staff, turned to stare at her.  True to his plan, he hadn’t moved yet- and she was still sitting on the stool.
“What?” she asked, moving as if looking around the hall.  She didn’t normally need to, as her ‘vision’ was already omnidirectional.
Discord stepped out of the crowd, passing straight through a couple other students to do so, and leaving them completely unphased- they were Equestrians, and probably expected something of the sort.  “Well, that was easy.”  He then headed for the Slytherin table, whistling an upbeat drum solo.





Lyra Heartstrings was easily the most…  interesting Equestrian.  All of the instructors were staring at the girl.  And, when she landed on the girl’s head, she had a massive, active spell to weave her way past before she could reach the girl’s mind…  and instantly understood why everyone was staring.
This was the girl that had been first through the Gate, and been the first Equestrian representative.
She found quite a bit more of interest, too.  For example, this girl was the source of the anti-legilimency spell (which the girl thought of as a ‘mental defense spell’, and the reason there was a hole in said spell calibrated specifically for her.  She was also one of several maintaining the massive, complex spell covering the Hall.  This spell- actively maintained by Lyra, Twilight Sparkle, Starlight Glimmer, Sunset Shimmer, and Princess Luna- was a very powerful time manipulation spell intended to allow the sorting to proceed as normal…  and yet take exactly ten minutes.  And of course, for every participant to also experience it as just ten minutes.
Something she whole-heartedly approved of, despite not having a heart.  Without it, it would take days- literally- to sort them all.  With it, it would only take ten minutes…  and nobody would notice.
Completely aside from her magical prowess, which offered her a future in Slytherin, the girl also had perfect recall- she literally couldn’t forget.  Very rare, those, and almost always Gryffindors.
Not to be outdone, Lyra was the embodiment of the perfect Gryffindor.  Mad scientist, always experimenting, exploring, and seeking new, strange things to play with…  Specifically play with.  And of course, she also had that disdain for rules that any Gryffindor carried.
At least safety was her number one priority, unlike a certain other almost-certainly-Ravenclaw mad scientist the girl could name, making her uniquely powerful- and potentially destructive- perspective rather less of a danger to the school and those in it than a toad.  It amused her to consider just how differently the instructors would answer that, as this ‘Papa Tango’ she was working on, with a ‘test subject’ already selected, promised to be one of the most powerful magics ever used on Hogwarts grounds.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
> Chapter 15
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Albus Dumbledore couldn’t count the number of things that had gone wrong…  and he knew exactly what he should have done to head it off.
He should have halted the distribution of first-year letters to the Equestrians as soon as the first ones came in, had follow-up letters sent to them to explain it away as a mailing error, and gone through the process to remove them from the attendance lists.
That would have stopped the entire disaster.
It had started when the Equestrians came.  He and his staff had already committed themselves to accept them all by the time they realized how many there would be- how much trouble it would cause.
In the commotion of getting them in, he’d completely missed a number of important signs- and been unable to devote his attention to others.  His plan was already going off the rails.
For one, Harry had apparently already received his first magic lesson…  from an Equestrian.  Something Hagrid hadn’t understood.  And of course, when Hagrid had reported it, it was a side note- so, not something that got his attention.
It should have.  It was very important, as he wouldn’t be able to guide the boy to his destiny nearly as easily, without more preparation…  that he had been too late for.  Nevermind the number of very strange variables the Equestrians were introducing to mess up his well-laid plans.
For two, the Weasleys had never met him.  The twins were supposed to send him a signal after they found him on the train- but they never did.  As a matter of fact, they’d sent him the opposite one, to express difficulty in locating him.  Probably because of how many cars they’d had to add to the Hogwarts Express at the last minute.  He was honestly surprised that all of the Equestrians- and British students as well- were able to board the train within the time allotted.
And then…  He wasn’t sure exactly what came next, as the massive workload he’d had since the letters started coming in had combined with the Equestrians’ strangeness- he’d tried visiting the Leaky Cauldron to meet them, but, by the time he got there, they’d already moved on - to make the entire world impossible to predict.
There was one thing that went right, though:  The Philosopher’s Stone had been rescued from Gringotts on schedule, and Voldemort had failed to acquire it in his infiltration of the same.
At least Princess Twilight had known her Equestrians, and had been more than willing to set up an extended teaching program with them, so their education shouldn’t interfere too badly with Harry’s.
He blinked, and shuffled quickly through the thousands of pages littering his desk.  He found the page he was looking for after a couple of seconds, scanned it again.  It was his copy of the final agreement they’d made with Princess Twilight.
He groaned, slumping down in his chair.
It was in the wording.  He and his instructors had set the extended teaching program up for all of the first years, not just the Equestrians.  Meaning, Twilight could source her instructors from the British students, if she saw fit…  and she could also put British students into her extended classes.
Which meant, in the end, that he had no control over Harry’s education whatsoever.
“Why?” he muttered.  “Why did this have to happen now, of all times?”
And of course, when he’d tried his passive mindscan on the Equestrians to try and get an idea for how they would react at dinner…  he’d been blocked.  By every single one of them.  Mere seconds before he’d been blocked out of the British first-years as well…  including Harry, who he had only just spotted.
Meaning, he had no idea what the Equestrians taught him…  nor what he had experienced on the train.  He couldn’t provide his more subtle touch of guidance, and would be forced into more overt, less reliable methods.
And, he knew, if he asked for a copy of Harry’s class schedule, Minerva would refuse, and hound on him for manipulating people again.  He’ll have to get a copy of all the schedules…  which may or may not be very easy, as it likely varies widely on a per-student basis.
So he’d have to get the class schedules, that told when what class would take place where, and who would be in it.  He’d have to sift through those to find the ones that Harry was in…
It’d take several hours.  At best.
He wished he could scream in rage the way Voldemort would have.





Professor McGonagall’s morning wasn’t much better, though for a very different reason.  She hadn’t had plans spoiled on her, but she had had Lyra Heartstrings and Princess Twilight- her first time meeting the latter of the two- approach her after the welcome feast the previous night.  They’d asked for one-night-only, overnight access to a space large enough for about fifty people to meet simultaneously, without interruption.
She’d granted it, on the stipulation that she herself would be present for the meeting, and would accompany them back to bed when the time came- the latter requirement mostly just to keep Filch off their tails.
Their meeting had taken place in the Great Hall.
They had needed to know when and where the classes for their student instructors would be- and when which rooms in the castle would be otherwise occupied.
They had Equestrian students from all four houses, and no British students.
Their meeting had taken almost thirty-six hours- which had been crammed into a single night thanks only to an Equestrian named ‘Starlight Glimmer’ who had a very powerful time dilation spell.  When she’d asked why they were coming to Hogwarts if they could already do that, Twilight had shrugged, and informed her that British wizards, as far as they knew, were completely incapable of that spell.  They apparently wanted to learn the common wizarding magic because it undoubtedly had some things they could use for their magic…  and of course, once they learned it, they could combine it with Equestrian principles to advance British magic as well.
They had spent those hours going over the lists of the first years, and details about their personalities and aptitudes.  They had very carefully assigned their instructors and students, then planned out the class times and locations, including their one-time crash courses for their instructors, and finally assembled everyone’s schedules.  About an hour in, Bonbon had appeared, given Lyra something she hadn’t seen, and helped out as if she’d been there from the start.  Lyra had then rolled her eyes and vanished for a few minutes.
She had taken the job of distributing the class schedules at breakfast, as per usual- and, though she’d conscribed the help of the other Heads of House, three thousand class schedules was nothing to sneeze at.
Then she’d had to have her own breakfast…  and head upstairs to prepare for her third-year morning transfiguration class.
She was exhausted, but she couldn’t let it show.





Hermione Granger also had a very busy morning.  Last night, once everyone reached the common room, Lyra had appeared to confirm her interest in their extended teaching program…  and explain it more.  She’d asked why it hadn’t been explained before.
“Well, on the train, we didn’t know who would end up in which house, and there was only so much planning we could do at that point.  For example, if you’d turned out to be a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t be here- and neither would Moondancer, who is doing this for the Ravenclaw student instructors.  Because there are enough experienced instructors amongst the Ravenclaws that their skill and experience would outweigh your interest etcetera.
“Then, of course, even given that you landed in Gryffindor, there were four different subjects we might’ve offered you, depending on who else landed in Gryffindor.
“With the Sorting that happened, we’ve got an opening in Charms if you want it.”
“Uh, yes?” she’d asked, like it was a foregone conclusion.
Lyra had smiled.  “I like the enthusiasm.  But before you make your decision final, there’s something you need to know.
“On the train, I mentioned a quick ‘crash course’ to prepare you for the role.  What I did not mention is that it’ll be about half an hour long on the outside, but we’ve TARDIS-ed the rooms we’ll be using for them, so it’ll be longer on the inside.  You can expect it to take around four hours…  then have a very finicky hour-long exam at the end.  And repeat, until you pass, with no way out.  Yes, there’s a bathroom, and we will have plenty of snacks, but still.”  She’d taken a breath.  “Considering you’d be for Charms, your crash-course would take place immediately after breakfast tomorrow morning.  Are you sure that’s something you want to commit to?”
“TARDIS-ed?” she’d asked.
“Time and Relative Dimension in Space.  In short, we’ve separated the rooms from the rest of the timeline.  Apply the TARDIS spellwork just a little differently and you’ve got a time machine.”
“Oh.”
“So…  Are you sure that’s something you want to commit to?”
She’d looked up at her.  “Of course.”
“You do realize that there is absolutely no backing out after this, right?”
She’d blinked.  “I do now.”
“And that you will have a co-instructor with you when teaching Charms, but they will not be in the same cramming session?”
“Same.”
“And you’re absolutely sure?”
“Yep!”
“Alright then.”
She’d asked, as Lyra turned away, if Harry would be in the same crash course slot.
“Ah, no, I’m afraid.  He won’t be in Charms- and we need the earlier slots for the student teachers with earlier classes.”
After that disappointment, she’d had a rough night, since one of her new dorm-mates wouldn’t stop rearranging her nightstand.  In the morning, she’d gone down to breakfast with hardly a single hour of sleep on the clock, had a quick meal, and gotten her schedule.
While there, she’d asked Harry, and confirmed- he’d also finalized his agreement, and would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.
His cramming session would, however, be Tuesday evening…  and, lucky him, not followed by anything; his DADA class with Professor Quirrell would be Wednesday morning.  She had to go study Charms with Professor Flitwick fifteen minutes after her cramming session, then move on to teaching Charms with Bonbon three quarters of an hour after finishing that!
She stopped outside the door to the room her schedule specified for her cramming session.
There was a large sign attached to the door.
WARNING!  Access to this room is restricted to assigned personnel ONLY.  All others will be forcibly removed.
There was a piece of parchment stuck to the bottom of the metal sign.  Note:  Student instructors are ‘assigned personnel’ within and ONLY within 30 minutes of their assigned Instruction Course time.
There was a digital clock attached beneath that one…  and, even though Hogwarts: A History had informed her that electricity went haywire here, the seconds on it were updating regularly and, as near as she could tell, accurately.
She took a deep breath, comparing it against her schedule.
She was nearly fifteen minutes early.
She took a deep breath, then slowly, carefully, raised her hand to knock.
> Chapter 16
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lyra pulled the door open just moments after she knocked.  “Oh, Hermione!  You’re early.”
She nodded.  “I don’t like being late.”
“Even though ‘late’ doesn’t mean much for this class, unless it’s over half an hour late.  But still, that’s a good attitude to have.”  She shrugged.  “Especially since it’s very highly recommended to show up to the classes you teach at least half an hour early- gives you time to go over your lesson plan with your partner…  or come up with such a plan, if need be.”
She tilted her head.  “Wouldn’t…?”
Lyra shook hers.  “In accordance with Hogwarts tradition, every class mixes exactly two houses…  and since we’re using two-instructor teams, that means we’ve used one instructor from each house per class- your instructor partner will not be in the same house.  And, to help cover all the bases, we’ve also flipped the pairings- Flitwick teaches the Hufflepuffs with the Gryffindors, and the Ravenclaws with the Slytherins, but you’ll be teaching Gryffindors and Slytherins, alongside a Slytherin instructor partner.”
She blinked.  “Then- But I teach just before lunch!  If they’re not in the same class…?”
Lyra smiled.  “Easy:  All of our Slytherin and Ravenclaw Charms instructors had an early breakfast and already went through their cramming sessions.  They’re in class with Flitwick right now.”
“Meaning…”
“Yeah, it’s tough.  I am sorry about that, but we didn’t have much choice.”  She shrugged.  “Anyways, come on in.”  She held the door wide.
Inside was a large, rectangular room, with three doors off one side.  The first was labeled ‘Bathroom’, the second ‘Closet’, and the last one was unlabeled.
In the middle of the room, positioned a little towards the door, stood exactly twenty desks, lined up perfectly in rows four deep by five across, and facing the head of the room.  The spacing between them struck Hermione as abnormally large, at a minimum of three feet.
At the head of the room, there was a podium in the middle, a larger ‘teacher’s desk’ sitting next to it.  On the other side, in the corner, there was a set of five chairs, four of which were occupied…  by people she didn’t recognize, all Equestrians.
And in the middle, a good ten feet directly behind the podium, stood a massive, circular…  structure.  It was glowing faintly, with five different colors- light gold, dark blue, purple, light teal, and turquoise, in equal parts.  It had a wide, inward-pointing cone-like top and bottom, a cylindrical core, and something strange inside the transparent core.
“...  Wow,” she muttered.  It was quite breathtaking, with the concentric rings of colorful symbols floating in the air around it at several points.
Lyra glanced at it.  “Yeah, it’s a sight to behold, isn’t it?  That’s our TARDIS core, that makes the whole thing possible.  Took all five of us to build it, and we’re the finest spellsmiths Equestria has seen since Starswirl the Bearded.  Anyways, all the other student instructors for this session can be counted on to be exactly five minutes early, giving us around…”  She glanced at her wristwatch- which, Hermione noticed, was a smartwatch.  “Nine minutes to kill.  Unless you want to go fetch something first, of course.”
She shook her head.  “No, I’m ready.”
“Alright then.”  She led her over towards those five seats.  “We- that is, me and these four- will be teaching these instructor sessions.  We’re also all student instructors ourselves, but…
“Anyways.  Allow me to introduce you to…
“Starlight Glimmer.”  She held her hand out to the first girl in line, a Slytherin with a teal stripe in her long purple hair.  “She’s really the expert on both our unique Equestrian magics and time magic, making her experience crucial for the TARDIS core.  She’s also one of very few to have managed self-levitation- an extremely tricky spell even I can’t manage.”
Starlight bowed her head, blushing lightly.
“Sunset Shimmer.”  She held her hand out to the next girl, a Gryffindor with red and gold hair that reminded Hermione of a bonfire.  “She studied directly under Princess Celestia for a while, then went on to her own research in another world.  It was only recently we reconnected to her world, and found out how similar it was to this one.  She’s very quickly become a social and legal expert here, even better than me- and her research has given her a very unique perspective that was…  immensely useful in figuring this thing out.”
Sunset shrugged.  “All in a day’s work.”  Then she chuckled.
Lyra grinned.  “Then of course, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”  The third girl was a Ravenclaw, with a twinned pink and purple stripe in her dark blue hair.
“Please don’t bow,” Twilight pleaded immediately, making all four of the others- including Lyra- chuckle.
The last one, a Slytherin with midnight blue hair, grinned amusedly.  “Neither to me.  I’m on vacation.”
Hermione blinked.  “...  Okay.”
Lyra chuckled again.  “Anyways, she’s also studied directly under Princess Celestia, moved to my hometown to continue her studies, and very recently joined the elite ranks of the Equestrian royalty…  as the Princess of Friendship, believe it or not.  She’s really good at it- and while her experience is all with Equestrians, I’ve found most of those principles carry over to this world as well, and we’ve been working to figure out exactly how the two worlds differ.  Her unparalleled magic research was crucial for the TARDIS core.  And as a matter of fact, I get the feeling you would get along with her quite well.”
Twilight grinned.  Hermione raised an eyebrow.
Lyra smiled, and indicated the last girl.  “And Princess Luna, Princess Celestia’s sister and Diarch of Equestria.  She’s well over a thousand years old- and nobody knows exactly how long, since both she and her sister lived through the Chaos Years.  That, combined with her rather unique magical experiences over the last thousand years, gives her unparalleled experience with her rather unique perspective- also immensely useful in getting this thing working.”
Luna nodded calmly, wearing an amused smile.  “My dear sister is older than me, but when she took over ruling duties and gave me a thousand years of free time on my Moon, I became better than she at…  certain things.”
Lyra chuckled.  “Yeah, I missed that, didn’t I?  In Equestria, Princess Luna actually physically controls the Moon.  Princess Celestia does the Sun.”
“...  Ahh,” Hermione mutters, before turning to Lyra.  “What about you?”
“Me?  Oh.  I’m just the one that opened the Gate.”
Starlight snorted.  “Don’t sell yourself short, Lyra.  You know as well as I do that you graduated second in class at Celestia’s School for Gifted U-Raeths.”
“And that your, ahh, unique advantage was instrumental in making the portal to Pedestria stay open indefinitely,” Sunset declared.
“And that the TARDIS core would have been impossible without that same advantage,” Twilight continued.
“And don’t forget you’re the only person in the entirety of Equestria that can penetrate Tia’s Vault undetected, even when she is in it and knows you’re coming,” Luna chimed in.
“Face it, Lyra,” Twilight stated.  “Whether you like it or not, you’re one of Equestria’s elite as well.  I’m actually a little amazed you haven’t ascended, with all the stuff you’ve been doing.”
Lyra sighed.  “Not that it hasn’t tried,” she muttered.
“Exactly!  Do you know of anypon-anyONE, sorry- else that can block harmony?”
“Wait, she blocked harmony?” Starlight asked.
“She stopped herself from ascending?” Sunset asked, before looking at Lyra.  “Did you really?”
She nodded.  “Fifty-six times, by now.”
“Wow,” Luna muttered.
“What?” Lyra asked.  “I wouldn’t be that great of a Princess- and besides, we all know I’d hate it to the extreme.”
Sunset just stared.  “You do know that was my dearest ambition for, like, thirty years, right?”
Lyra nodded.  “Yeah.  Not mine.”
She shook her head.  “Whatever.”
“Besides, I’m clearly not one of the best.  I was second in class at Celestia’s School.”
“Twilight was in your class,” Sunset countered instantly.  “That was inevitable.”
She rolled her eyes.  “Whatever.”





Hermione stepped back over to her seat, and sighed.  She had passed their exam with flying colors on her first try- Lyra had even told her she’d designed it to be impossible to do as well as she’d done, but she’d done it anyways!  After telling her that she’d scored a hundred and seventy-three percent on the practical exam, Lyra had shown her what was in the closet, and the third, unlabeled door.
The unlabeled door had hidden a small banquet hall.  All the food in it was timelocked, but would unlock whenever she reached for it- meaning, it would always be fresh.  The closet had contained a few supplies…  and a bed.
Lyra told her to take what she needed, rest as long as she wanted to…  then sit in her seat to return.  She’d said something about the ‘layered timeline’ making it possible for her to take as long as she wanted without making anyone wait, or coming out any later than she would otherwise.
So she’d done that.  She’d eaten a small lunch, had a good night’s sleep, and eaten breakfast.
She took a deep breath, looking around the room again.  She’d put the bed away and everything, so the room was just as spotless as when Lyra had snapped her fingers and disappeared with the rest.
It still had only one desk in it:  Hers.  It was anchored to the floor, so it couldn’t be moved.  After the instruction, Lyra had snapped her fingers, and all the others had disappeared.  When asked, she’d said something about ‘multilayering the timeline’ to allow them each to have a one-on-one quiz-and-tutor session as long as they needed…  without interfering with the others, or making them wait.
The TARDIS core, however, was not here.  Instead, there was a large, empty wooden box bolted to the floor as a marker.  Lyra had said that it had stayed behind in the “prime” room that they had done the main instruction in; sustaining all twenty-one additional layers.
Apparently, that twenty-first layer was for the five instructors to eat and rest in as necessary, before moving on to the next student.
She sighed, and sat down.
Immediately, nineteen other desks, with seats and occupants, faded rapidly into existence around her.  She glanced around at them, taking in the startled looks of almost everyone in those seats, all looking wildly around- probably experiencing something similar.
At the same time, the five instructors faded into existence at the head of the room.
“Well, that happened,” Lyra began, once the initial confusion died off.
Starlight smiled.  “Yes it did.  This has been a good week and a half.”  A twitch at the corner of her eye, that Hermione was close enough to see by virtue of her front-row seat, suggested that it was nothing of the sort.
“Anyone have any final questions?” Sunset asked the class.
The Hufflepuff that had sat next to Hermione at the beginning spoke up.  “Why couldn’t this have been covered before we came here?”
The response was instant.  Princess Luna regarded him coolly, but Twilight’s dagger-glare spoke volumes.  Lyra sighed, turned her head, and facepalmed slowly.  Sunset’s expression flattened into something Hermione recognized instantly as a poker face.  Starlight’s hands clenched into fists as she closed her eyes and started into some silent breathing exercises.
“You know perfectly well why,” Luna began.
“Then you could have done it anyways!”
Hermione groaned.  There was always someone like that.
Sunset looked sideways, at Lyra, Twilight, and Luna; Starlight was on her other side.  “Echo?”
“Yes,” Starlight declared instantly.
“Yes, echo,” Twilight muttered.
“Agreed,” Lyra nodded, turning to look past Twilight at Luna.
Luna sighed.  “Make it so.”
Lyra stepped forward.  “Alright, Prince Blueblood.  I’m really sorry to have to do this to you, but you asked for it.”  She held out her hands, and moved one in a circle next to the other.
A massive, circular array of golden symbols whirled into existence in the air in front of her.
She then put her hands together, and pushed on the center.
It glowed brightly, almost like the sun…  and a moment later, he was gone.  She raised one hand, and snapped her fingers.
When she had first activated the TARDIS core, only a small portion of the symbols surrounding it had brightened.  Now, all of them shone brightly, and the oscillating thing in the middle- it was moving up and down- accelerated suddenly.
There was a blinding flash of light, then the five of them were standing in a neat row once again…  and the seat Lyra had just emptied was occupied again, though by someone else.
She also had a sudden wave of dizziness, and her head hurt a little- she could remember this girl being in that seat through the entire instruction segment, but she could also remember Blueblood being there.  “Ow,” she muttered, putting her hands to her temples.  She wasn’t the only one.
“Sorry about that,” Lyra sighed, “but that’s what it takes to remove a student instructor right now.”
The new girl- Cloudchaser- blinked.  “So…  So…  Wait.  I remember you asking me if I wanted to teach, and also not asking me.”
Lyra nodded.  “Yes.  We just created a grandfather paradox, then restabilized the timeline with a predestination paradox.  That kind of thing will always give time travelers- which includes every one of us- headaches.  Blueblood was just…”  She shook her head.  “He won’t remember this at all.”  She grinned.  “Though I’ll have to admit, it was immensely satisfying to incinerate him like that.”
“If only you could do that without immediately undoing it, eh?” the girl to Hermione’s right muttered.  She hadn’t caught the girl’s name.
Sunset nodded sagely.  “Fortunately, he’s the only one that bludgeoned his way onto the instructor teams- everyone else got here on pure merit, so that should be the only time we need to do that.”
“So,” Lyra announced cheerfully, slapping her fist into her opened hand.  “Anyone have any last-minute questions?”
There was a general denial throughout the room…  and Hermione suddenly remembered that there had only been girls in the room all along.  Yet with Blueblood…  No, that was the past that had never happened.
“Alright then,” Lyra smiled.  “It would seem we’re done here.”  She snapped her fingers.

The TARDIS engine behind her moved a couple times, made a single sliding noise, and emitted a distinct thunk, at the very moment that the door to the rest of the castle blinked back into existence.
> Chapter 17
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco was…  grumpy, to say the least.  Crabbe and Goyle lost almost thirty points each during their first week for missing classes, because they couldn’t follow him to their classes.
But that wasn’t the only thing.
No; he’d quickly found out that the instructors had set up an extended teaching program with the Equestrians.  That alone he wasn’t all that worried about, after making friends with Diamond.
The part he was bothered by, and hadn’t told anyone he was bothered by, was that he’d heard that a couple of British students had been invited to that program as student teachers as well…  and he had not.
He knew his father would’ve loved for him to be in such an authoritative role; apparently, those student instructors had the power to give and take points, giving it a very real level of authority.
But mostly, he just wanted to be something other than the slave he had been his entire life- obeying instructions, studying, and whatever else.  He wanted to be able to make the instructions, the way those instructors do.  Sure, there’s two to a class, so he wouldn’t be alone- but he would have just as much deciding power as them, rather than just blindly following them.
But he didn’t.  He’d considered asking who he should ask, but decided against it.  He’d ask Diamond, when he next got to talk to her somewhere private…  maybe.
It was Monday afternoon, of the second week.  He’d read that flying lessons would be starting on Thursday- and that he himself was scheduled to start on Day One.  He’d been unable to get rid of the blundering idiots over the weekend; they followed him everywhere, as they were “supposed to”.
And today, he’d managed to get rid of them…  by taking them to their first classes of the day, and leaving them there while he headed for his own.  Thank Merlin that he didn’t share any classes with them; if he’d had to listen to their stupidity for just five more minutes, he was sure he’d have gone mad.
He sighed, picking a wall to lean against in this empty corridor; he’d allowed himself to get separated from the rest of the class after it let out, as none of them had the same next class as he did.
And, he knew, Crabbe and Goyle both also had another class of their own- that was not the same as his, meaning he had just over an hour left before they could even start looking for him.
He wondered how he was going to survive the year without breaking his father’s ironclad rules.  If he could shed Crabbe and Goyle indefinitely, he wouldn’t have any problem with that.
A door to his left opened suddenly, and he straightened up quickly.  He couldn’t let just anyone see him express any kind of weakness.
Then Lyra Heartstrings stepped out of that door, and he stiffened.  Despite what she’d done for him on the train, and Diamond’s introducing her, the girl still gave him the creeps.
She looked at him, evidently utterly unsurprised to see him.  “Oh hey, Draco,” she began.  “Long time no see, eh?”
He winced.  Wish it was longer.  “So?”
She winced as well.  “Oh come on, do you have to be like that?”
He ignored the question, folded his arms, and surprised himself by wishing the two blundering idiots were with him…  if only because they could probably soak up her attention long enough for him to escape.  He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
She rolled her eyes.  “What if you didn’t?”
He kept himself from twitching.  What she was saying was impossible.
She seemed unsatisfied.  “What if you could go somewhere nobody else could?  Where nobody cares about appearances?”
He determinedly kept his expression disinterested.  What in the world was she talking about?
She scowled.  “Whatever, be like that, then.”  She suddenly pranced forward, grabbed his arm, and pulled him after her.  “C’mon.”  He tried to stop her, and to free himself, but she blocked his every move with no apparent effort of her own.  She dragged him back into the room she’d just come out of.
The room was filled with…  floating golden squiggles?  Had she not been here, he might have explored them, but she was here.  They were all faint and indistinct, flowing slowly around the room in loops, circles, and other strange, loopy patterns.
She dragged him right to the middle, then released him and dashed to the side.
He stumbled, stabilized himself, and refolded his arms.  “What was that for?” he demanded.
She didn’t answer him.  Instead, all the gold squiggles suddenly burned bright- and he found himself lifted into the air in the middle of the room.
He let out a small gasp of surprise, but quickly controlled himself- even in the unknown, he had appearances to maintain.
Then, it burned.  He bit back the scream of pain that tried to make its way out- he would not show weakness!
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it all stopped…  and he found himself falling back to the floor.  He landed, stumbling slightly.
“What the-?” Lyra asked, surprised about…  something?
“What was that for?” he demanded.
She ignored him, and the squiggles suddenly started glowing again.  He braced himself to be lifted and tortured again- but it didn’t happen.  Instead, something in one corner of the room suddenly glowed a brilliant red, a color that spread across the entire room in but an instant before all the squiggles faded back down…  and turned gold again.
“What-!?” she asked, before bounding over to him and staring intently at him.
He backed away, towards the door.  “What are you doing?” he demanded.
She scowled, and turned away.  “But if…  Then why did it just…  stop?”  She sighed.  “Whatever.”  Then she glanced at him.  “Go ahead and carry on with…  whatever you were doing.  It didn’t work.”
“What is it?” he demanded, folding his arms.
She blinked.  “Oh…  I forgot that step again, didn’t I?  Then I…  Yeah, I also forgot to ask permission.  Sorry about that.  Um…”  She glanced at the symbols floating around the room.  “At the moment, British wizards can’t use Equestrian magic- and will die if they try to traverse the gate to Equestria.  I’m trying to fix both of those issues, but it’s proving very difficult.  And given what just happened…  it’s looking like it’s impossible to do without an unacceptable risk of death or debilitation.”
He raised an eyebrow.  “Unacceptable?”
She nodded.  “As in, any risk.  The way I designed this thing, it doesn’t dig deep enough to cause permanent damage, and has so many safeties in place to make sure that anything it does change is done in a balanced manner, such that debilitation is impossible.
“Then, it just…  stopped.  Didn’t change anything, but it got through the outer layers to make its repeat prevention stamp, so…”  She blinked.  “Because it works by modifying the magical core- and penetrating that too many times, even without doing anything else, can cause critical damage of a completely different sort- so any given test subject is only good for one run, no repeats.
“Then of course, I actually designed it to penetrate, place spellwork inside, and retreat- far faster than trying to make the changes directly, minimizing the penetration time…  and it also allows the injected spellwork to reinforce the core’s ‘skin’, so to speak, back beyond its original strength, hence allowing it to tolerate an increased number of penetrations.  Not that I want to put that to a test.  Ever.”  She took a deep breath.  “Said spellwork is riddled with safeties of its own…  and markers that should be visible to certain kinds of completely harmless scans- even through the magical core.”  She looked at him.  “I checked for those markers, there aren’t any.  It didn’t work at all.
“Which must mean…”  She gazed across the room, and a flicker of gold traveled through the squiggles.  “...  Huh.  It didn’t run out of power.  So what did happen?”  She glanced towards him again.  “None of the safeties activated, so it can’t have been anything dangerous, but…”  She scowled.  “Maybe it failed to penetrate far enough?  That would bring it to a silent shutdown- penetrating too far would have triggered…”  She pointed, and a group of squiggles off to the side glowed briefly red, “that safety, and shut the whole thing down.”  She scowled.  “But if it did fail to penetrate far enough, but did get far enough to place the anti-duplication stamp, then…”  She sighed.  “I…  British magical cores must be too different from Equestrian magical cores for me to base it off my own…  and it’d be way too dangerous to try scanning someone else’s- including yours.”  A low couch appeared behind her in a flash of golden light, and she flung herself down on it.  “Meaning, this whole thing is a fruitless endeavor.”
He blinked.  “So…”
She let out another sigh.  “Kinda disappointing, too.  It took an entire week to build this, just to find out that it’s junk.  I guess I’ll have to rip it apart now.”  She glanced down at her wristwatch, and wrinkled her nose.  “Eh, later.  I’ve got to go teach.”  She sat up straighter.  “Which means I need to lock up this room again- these matrices would be deadly dangerous in the wrong hands, functional or not.”  She gestured vaguely to the side of the room.
“Teach?” he asked.
“Hmm?  Yeah.  I’m sure you’re already aware of the extended teaching program?”
He nodded stiffly.
“Yeah…  We ended up using almost exclusively Equestrian instructors because we didn’t know any of the British candidates.  Hermione and Harry got in as instructors because we met them and learned about them- and their abilities- early enough.  You…  Nobody knew what to think about you, since we only saw the facade you put forward, and knew it was a facade.  Thanks to the sensitivity of the position, that meant you got left out.  Though, from what Diamond tells me, you would’ve been a decent candidate.”  She shrugged.  “Maybe next year, I guess.”
He huffed lightly, before turning to head out the door, and down the corridor.  She followed him as far as the door, waved goodbye, and closed it from inside.
He paused again halfway down the next corridor, leaning against the wall.  For some reason, he found himself exhausted.  He glanced back the way he’d come.  Did Lyra have something to do with that?
He turned resolutely back forwards, and pushed himself off of the wall.  No, she couldn’t have.  He was just imagining things.
He hadn’t gone six steps, though, before one of the school professors rounded the corner ahead of him.  It was the hook-nosed teacher that had handed him his schedule- Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house, according to the upper-year students.  The man looked harried, like he had too much to do and not enough time to do it in.  He’d probably just pass him by- which, if he was honest with himself, suited him.
Contrary to his expectation, Professor Snape paused, upon catching sight of him, then came closer.  “Mr…?” he began.
“Malfoy, Sir,” Draco bowed his head slightly.
Snape nodded.  “Are you…  alright?”  He seemed distinctly uncertain.
He shivered involuntarily.  It wasn’t even cold outside- so why did he feel so cold?  “I…  I don’t know.”
Snape scowled, stepped closer, and crouched down to feel his forehead…  and recoil almost as if he’d been burned.  “Very hot,” he muttered.  “You’d better see Madam Pomfrey.  This way.”  He rose back to his feet, and started guiding him down the corridors, away from his next class.
> Chapter 18
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione could only sigh, as she arrived for Charms.  After the first class last week, she and her Slytherin co-teacher- who turned out to be Bonbon, Lyra’s wife- had been rescheduled to a later time slot.  She hadn’t been the only student instructor to have their teaching assignment come immediately after their study slot…  but, according to Lyra, she had been the only one that was able to assimilate the information fast enough to teach it effectively in that short of a timeframe.
Which meant that she now taught Charms at about three in the afternoon, rather than ten in the morning.
Bonbon was already there, as punctual as ever.  Just like last time, the teaching assignment started half an hour before the students’ class assignment came about, giving her and Bonbon a full half an hour to coordinate their lesson plans and catch up on everything.
For the first class, since she’d arrived with no idea what was going to happen and Bonbon had been working on lesson plans for an hour, they’d just picked one of hers.  After that, Bonbon had spent half of that time allotment going over the class roster- and warning her of who to keep her eyes on for her safety and so on.  She’d been rather alarmed by that.
“Good afternoon, Bonbon,” she greeted.
Bonbon bowed her head.  “Good afternoon to you too, Hermione.  I’m sure you’ve heard we’ve shuffled the class rosters a little as well?”
She nodded; her schedule hadn’t changed over the weekend, aside from this class, but plenty of peoples’ had been.  For instance, in her second class that day, the only one where she was studying under student instructors, about a third of the class had been shuffled out for different people.  “How much has changed?”
Bonbon shrugged.  “Not much, actually- only five substitutions.  We’ve still got the Crusaders- it is confirmed, we’re the best team for them.  Any other instructor team would’ve had a demolished room and, possibly, a severe injury by the end of the class.”
“Wow,” she muttered.  The self-proclaimed ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders’- a name she didn’t understand in the slightest- had caused so much… excitement last week that she and Bonbon hadn’t been able to cover any of the class material.  She scowled.  “What is a ‘Cutie Mark’, anyways?”
Bonbon shook her head.  “National secret, sorry.  Maybe someday.”  She shrugged.  “The Crusaders are rather…  careless in that regard.  We helped them come up with a temporary name for this side of the Gate, but they’ve forgotten it entirely.  Too excited, I think.”
She blinked.  It was the same thing she’d told her when she’d asked why Applebloom had said ‘everypony’; she was beginning to suspect what that national secret was.  “Oh.  Okay.  So, who did we lose?”
Bonbon listed off five names that Hermione remembered being the boring sort- the slow ones.  Four of them were British.
She nodded.  “Alright.  Then, who did we gain?”
Bonbon grinned.  “Well, we got Rainbow Dash, for one.”
“Wait, Rainbow?  Wasn’t she the one racing against…  whoever it was, to serve butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron?”
“Yes, she was competing with Lightning Dust- who would have won by twenty percent, had Derpy Hooves not accidentally outdone them both.  Speaking of which, we’ve got all three of them now.”
She nodded slowly.  “Are they…?”
“Going to be trouble?  I wouldn’t expect them to be.  Well, except Derpy.  Rainbow and Lightning can get mighty bored sometimes, but they’re grown ladies.  The only worry I would have is that Rainbow is outwardly disdainful to the notion of ‘studying’.  You can generally ignore that facade, though; as an Aethr, she’s mighty excited to learn magic, since the Equestrian stuff is pretty exclusive to the Raeths.”  She took a deep breath.  “And Derpy…  I mean, you’ve seen how much destruction the Crusaders cause, right?”
Hermione shuddered.
“Amplify that by about double, and replace destruction with helping out, and you have Derpy.  She’s wonderfully kind- but she’s also wall-eyed, clumsy, and the main mail delivery person in our hometown.  Normally, that would mean mail would never get where it was headed…  but she has this gift.  Even Lyra doesn’t know where it comes from, but she has never once failed to deliver a letter to its recipient.  Even when said recipient was swimming in lava in the next universe over.”  She shrugged.  “Don’t ask me how she did that.
“Said gift has side effects on her daily life.  That is, she has…  accidents.  But they’re not normal accidents- they’re helpful accidents.
“Like the Leaky Cauldron.  The deciding event in that challenge happened about three days after your visit.  Two of the other servers crashed into each other, and spilled butterbeer all over the floor…  Then of course, Rainbow and Dust hit that puddle at the same time at speed from different directions, slipped, and crashed into each other, flinging platters and tankards all the way across the pub.  Pinkie had to replace three cakes.
“Derpy had been walking by, and stopped to help them clean up.  Then, in the act of mopping up the spilled butterbeer with only three napkins- even Pinkie couldn’t figure out how she did that- she served so many drinks not only in the Leaky Cauldron but all across Equestria that the two speedsters couldn’t possibly keep up.  As for how many she served…  Well, Tom told us at the end.  Had every single day of the year looked like it did the day you passed through, it would have taken six years to make as much as he made that day.  He said he hadn’t a clue where she got it all, but he’d seen it all go out, with the orders- and galleons- coming in to pay for it.”
She blinked.  “...  Wow.”
“Yeah.  And that’s actually not why she’s coming to our class, even though she’ll no doubt be amazingly helpful with the Crusaders.  Instead, she’s coming because she has difficulty following the instructions the other instructors give her…  and we’re smart enough to work with her disability instead of against it.”
She tilted her head.  “Wait, wasn’t that in the crash course thingy?”
Bonbon nodded.  “Yep.  And some people just aren’t that good at it.  She’s a pretty extreme case- one that can…  overwhelm less prepared instructors.”
“So, we’re getting all the hard cases.”
“In essence, I suppose.  Though they’re not really hard cases- they all want to learn magic- they just have their own, ah, unique difficulties, and we’re best equipped to handle them.”
She nodded.  “Ahh.  So…”  She scowled.  “Rainbow and Lighting are both Aethrs, but which one’s Derpy?”
“She’s also an Aethr.”
She nodded.  “And if I remember right, you’re an Etrah?”
“Yep.  From what we’ve seen so far, the Raeths are actually at a disadvantage with British magic- they’re having a lot more trouble getting magic out of their wands.  Twilight was the first to get hers working- said something about making the magic ‘sit’ in her wand.  We expect Derpy to have a little trouble to start out, since she doesn’t have the greatest control over her Aethr magic as it is, but it should be nothing next to the Crusaders…  none of which have a clue how to control their Equestrian magics.”
“Which gives Sweetie Belle about a zero percent chance of successfully casting wand magic, doesn’t it?”
Bonbon nodded.  “Or thereabouts, theoretically.  Judging by what happened last week, I’d say she’s just as likely to learn wand magic first, and use that as an anchor to familiarize herself with her Raeth magic and learn to properly utilize all of her power.
“Anyways.  After those three, Ronald Weasley will be joining us today.  Not a great match, but this was the best place for him- he needs someone of your skill to get some of these things through his thick skull, but he’s not nearly as far gone as Crabbe or Goyle- the class they’ve been transferred to is just short of remedial.  Perhaps the most worrying thing with Ron is that he seems to have been looking for Harry…  but less because of interest and more because he is supposed to, almost.  It’s…  suspicious, to say the least, so we- basically all of the Equestrians- have taken on a policy of non-information:  We won’t help him, or any of the other Weasleys- they haven’t shown any suspicious tendencies, but you know siblings- to find Harry.  We’re not blocking him from Harry, though, since we don’t know why he’s looking, but…”  She shrugged.  “You go ahead and decide for yourself what you will do, as a schoolmate, when he inevitably asks after Harry.”
“We’ve also got Draco Malfoy.  Lyra made noises about testing her spellwork on him earlier- I told her to ask permission first, here’s hoping she remembers- so he may not show up today, depending on what happens with that.  He’s very familiar with Crabbe and Goyle- but has proven to be a few orders of magnitude smarter than the two of them together, so he no longer shares any classes with them.  Be warned, as a Malfoy, he’s from one of the high noble families of the wizarding world.”
Hermione found it very flattering the way Bonbon kept suggesting that it was her skill, not Bonbon’s, that would be needed; unlike herself, the girl’s every move practically preached of high skill and long practice.  She was pretty sure she would be surprised if Bonbon could be tripped by an invisible, six-inch wall sliding rapidly- and silently- across the floor.  Specifically, a wall that could stand up to her massive Etrah strength.
Then they ran over the lesson plans.  She’d come up with one or two this time- so they ended up merging one of hers with one of Bonbon’s.
Finally, with ten minutes to the start of class, they were done.  The week prior, the first student had shown up about five minutes early.
“Soooo,” Hermione muttered.  Bonbon didn’t feel the need to fill every second with chatter- a trait which she rather liked- but she herself had a lot of questions.
Bonbon turned her head slightly to indicate she was listening.  For some reason, that simple act, the calm, almost perfect attention, always made her smile.
“If…  Um…  That magic Lyra is doing.  Is that just to safely travel the Gate, or to make wizards capable of Equestrian magic as well?”
“Both, actually,” Bonbon answered instantly.  “Back in the Leaky Cauldron, she scanned a number of British passersby- which includes you, I’m afraid- and was able to determine she wouldn’t be able to do one without the other.  Of course, there’d be a third effect, codenamed the Papa Tango, that would also come with them…  and is a little less desirable.”
“Ahh.  So…  I assume much of this ‘Papa Tango’ is secret, but how much can you tell me?”
Bonbon smiled.  “You assume correctly.  At a high level, the ‘Papa Tango’ is basically a magical transformation into an Equestrian.”
She tilted her head.  “Wouldn’t that risk destroying the identity of the, er, subject?”
Bonbon nodded.  “Yes.  There are ways around that, but even if their appearance, personality, and so on survives intact, they would definitely be changed at the core level- and would likely be forced to relearn themselves.”
“Relearn…?”
Bonbon nodded.  “They would have to relearn things like magic…  and their own strength.  Completely aside from the extra side effects Equestrian magic has, that we are used to, but that they would be very likely blindsided by, even when warned.”





Draco had been to the Hospital Wing before, even though it was hardly the second week of school.
It was the first time he was there for an illness…  though it was a very confusing illness.  He’d had to stop at the bathroom to throw up on the way up; Professor Snape had waited for him.
Those other times, every Tuesday and Friday, he came up for a haircut, to shave himself bald in an effort to avoid a particularly nasty house curse.
But now…
Draco had been in the Hospital Wing for about an hour and a half, with a progressively more confused Madam Pomfrey running test after test, when someone knocked on the door to the Hospital Wing.  He felt absolutely terrible, worse than he’d ever felt in his life.
When he heard the knock, he closed his eyes and muttered.  “Please don’t tell me that’s Crabbe and Goyle.”
Madam Pomfrey, who had developed her own very negative opinion of the two boys during his first two visits, finished her latest test, nodded sagely, and went to get the door.
When she returned, it wasn’t the blundering idiots.
It was Lyra Heartstrings.
He opened his mouth to tell her to go away, but she beat him to it.  “Hi Draco, Bonbon told me you missed Charms, and it made me worry- it’s possible it could have had side effects, even if it didn’t work.  Can…  Can I check for those?”
Madam Pomfrey’s eyebrows shot upwards.
He groaned, but didn’t see any other way.  “Fine.”
She closed her eyes…  and didn’t move, for several seconds.  Madam Pomfrey was looking between her and Draco.
Finally, she moved again, and it was to sigh.  “I…  I’m sorry, Draco.  As near as I can tell, it’s an allergic reaction to the penetration.”  She looked up at Madam Pomfrey.  “It shouldn’t be dangerous, but it’ll probably hurt a lot, and last a long time.  And since it’s coming from his magical core, nothing we can do will do anything to even tone down the symptoms.”  She looked at him again.  “I’d go in to clean up, speed the recovery, but doing that would have a very high risk of killing you.”
Madam Pomfrey scowled.  Draco facepalmed.
Lyra took a deep breath.  “Anyways, those matrices are still intact…  and have a recording function, so I should have a record of exactly what happened.  I’ll have to dig through it, see exactly what happened…  and if there’s any way to speed the recovery without killing you.”  She shuddered.  “And that could take months.”
Madam Pomfrey folded her arms.  “So what would his normal recovery time be?”
She shrugged.  “With an Equestrian, once all the symptoms disappear, they’re gone for good, though full recovery, including things like magic reserve depth and so on, can take half again as long as it takes to get that far.”  She took a deep breath.  “With an Equestrian, it would have an overall duration of about two and a half months.  I don’t know enough about British magical cores to even guess at how long it’ll take, aside from…  long.”  She looked up.  “That’s what I hope to learn by examining the records, among other things.”

She sighed.  “In any case, the reaction itself shouldn’t be dangerous, but the symptoms could very easily put him in a dangerous situation.  It’s probably best that he stays here- with you- until all the symptoms disappear.”
> Chapter 19
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco could have wished that the initial symptoms were all of them, and that they would simply fade away.
He didn’t, though.  The initial symptoms, which included spontaneously needing to use the bathroom every couple hours, were very, very draining- both to him and to Madam Pomfrey.  He couldn’t eat anything without vomiting it back out less than half an hour later.
Fortunately, they only lasted three days, before they all vanished very quickly…  Except the fever, it only reduced.
And of course, had he wished such, it would have been in vain.  The sudden disappearance of the initial symptoms was accompanied by fresh symptoms:  He was perpetually dizzy, to the point where he couldn’t stand up at all, and he also had a splitting headache.
Fortunately, he could handle that, so long as he could lie still.
At least he could eat.  And drink.  And, of course, lie down for more than an hour and a half at a time.
Even if the pain kept him up at night.





“Expelliarmus!”
“Good job, Neville!” Harry congratulated, his wand floating back to him in the light blue aura of Rarity’s strange, totally-not-cheating levitation.  After Professor Quirrell’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class turned out to be a bit of a joke on Wednesday of the first week, he’d written a letter to his co-instructor, Rarity, and asked Hedwig to deliver it as quickly as possible…  without interrupting any classes.
He’d gotten a reply back less than fifteen minutes later, and met up with the Hufflepuff in the school library fifteen minutes after that.  There, they’d encountered pretty much all of the other Defense Against the Dark Arts student instructors, from all four houses- and they all agreed, up to and including Princess Luna (who was most definitely not subtle), that Quirrell’s classes were sub-par.
And that they needed to find something else to teach their students.
Fortunately, one of the Ravenclaws had quickly discovered some of the simplest self-defense spells there were.  They’d studied, done a touch of practice…  and then he’d left with Rarity to teach.
This particular charm, the ‘disarming charm’, simply empties its target’s hand- of their wand.  Hopefully.  And it was very, very simple- no fancy motions required, no special ingredients, no nothing.  Just point, visualize what you wanted to happen, and say the incantation.
A surprisingly large number of students were having trouble- even, Harry was rather painfully aware, Rarity herself.  She hadn’t been able to get it to work at all- but that had lined up with about one third of all of the student instructors, for some reason, so it clearly wasn’t just her.
As it had turned out, he himself had a gift for these things; it had taken him all of two minutes to master every single spell they had found.  He was one of only three that had managed every last one of them on that first meeting- which had then been scheduled into place, to become a regular meeting event.
In any case, for as much difficulty as Rarity had casting bolts of red light from her wand to disarm her opponents, she had absolutely no trouble catching flying wands- or other objects at times- and returning them to their proper place with her strange blue… aura.  He’d called it ‘cheating’ at one point, and she’d been quick to disagree- saying that it was ‘her normal magic, as a Raeth’.
So of course, he’d asked if he could be a Raeth too.
She’d stared at him for a few seconds, before averting her gaze.  “Oh, sorry, but no.  That’s kinda a biological part of an Equestrian, which of the three tribes we belong to.  And we can’t be changed between them, it’s been tried.”
That didn’t stop him from noticing that she did get small responses from her wand sometimes, though never enough to actually perform the spell she was asking of it.  Did that mean that the Raeth magic she was using conflicted with wand magic in some way, making it difficult to do one or the other?  Rarity had learned to use her Raeth magic already, and was clearly capable of wand magic, so wouldn’t the same be true the other way around?  Once he learned enough wand magic, wouldn’t he be capable of learning some Raeth magic as well?
He’d have to ask Lyra.  She’d seemed mighty knowledgeable about what the various magics could do back in the Leaky Cauldron…  and the other Gryffindor of the magical prodigies that had taught the instructor courses was a lot harder to find.  For some reason, Lyra seemed to shine at him from across the room, whether he was looking or not.
Though he couldn’t use it to identify her- he’d noticed that one of the other Gryffindors also shone at him in that same way, and he would rather stay as far away from that girl as he possibly could.





Molly Weasley heaved a sigh, after reading Professor Dumbledore’s latest missive.
She knew the man was using her and her family as tools in his plan against Voldemort…  but what choice did she have?  If she didn’t cooperate with him, Voldemort might return- and win!
Apparently, he’d been poking his nose about, in his usual manner…  and found that Harry was not following his intended path.  She knew as well as he did that her Ron had not met Harry on the train, as he was supposed to…  and, as a matter of fact, had yet to meet him, even two weeks after term started.
She knew Ron was starting to get desperate- which was never a good thing.  She’d done her best, but he had turned out, unlike his brothers and sister, to be the so-called ‘runt of the litter’.
He just wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.
She wasn’t proud of it…  but it made him quite susceptible to manipulation by those he trusted, and one of the most reliable pieces in Dumbledore’s puzzle of a plan.
Speaking of which, she wasn’t sure what she should tell her son.  Fred and George were a lot more subtle than he in their search, and by their latest letter, they’d gotten a lead:  Someone had mentioned seeing him with a bushy brown-haired British girl named Hermione Granger.  She’d looked it up, and the girl was a muggleborn.
She’d informed Dumbledore, who had apparently not known of that- and his response, the letter she’d just read, had been nothing shy of relieved.  Harry most certainly wasn’t following the trail Dumbledore had laid, but at least he was moving in the right direction, associating with a muggleborn.  He had also, it seemed, gotten ahold of Harry’s class schedule- strange that it took him so long- and even sent her a copy.
She scowled at the page.  If she sent that schedule to Ron, he’d no doubt stalk Harry and only manage to alienate himself.  He needed a friendly pretext to be able to pull it off- as had been planned for the train.  If, however, she sent the schedule to the Twins…  They’d almost certainly find him, and they were smart enough that they’d actually be able to use it to their advantage.  Meet him directly, probably somewhere innocent like the common room, introduce themselves, maybe even take advantage of being upper-year students to help him out in some way, and cement themselves in Harry’s mind as friendly figures.  That’d undoubtedly help them deal with Ron’s tactlessness.
She couldn’t send it to Percy.  Dumbledore had decided, and she had agreed, that Percy was best left unaware of the plan- and with his existing tendencies, he already had a rather extreme tendency to follow it.  As such, Percy would probably raise all sorts of questions…  and was not helping them look for Harry.  He might be smart, but he was also very blunt, and would likely only alienate the boy if he knew about the search.
She glanced up as Ginny walked into the room.  She was basically the complete opposite of Ron.  Very smart, sensitive, and all around a very nice little girl- she was her mother’s pride.  As a matter of fact, she was such a perfect girl that Dumbledore had worked her into his plan a few years back and, with Molly’s permission, had put a marriage contract on the books between Ginny and Harry.
It had been one of the toughest decisions of her life.  She hated to take the freedom of choice away from Ginny, but the benefits…  Not only did it force Dumbledore to plan for Harry to survive to marry her, but it also gave Ginny a quality groom…  and Harry a quality bride.  She’d hoped they’d be happy together.
Then, two weeks ago, at King’s Cross, one of the other Hogwarts first-years had stopped by her family to ask how to get onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters.  He must have been a muggleborn…  but Ginny had fallen for him, developed an instant crush on him.  Neither she nor any of her boys knew who he was; even Percy had been asked, in her effort to sate Ginny’s burning curiosity, but none had recognized him, even after the fact.
Of course, Ginny was aware of her part in the plan…  and the marriage contract.  She had been aware for over a year, as a matter of fact.  For the first week after King’s Cross, she had seen that knowledge tearing the girl apart- she’d never be able to marry that strange boy.
Then one day, she’d come to breakfast with reddened eyes, like she’d been crying…  and a smile on her face.
“If I can’t marry him, I’ll just have to make good friends with him,” she’d stated- or declared, more like.  She said it very decisively, almost like the universe was listening.  “And, of course, make sure Harry gets along well with him.  He can be a ‘family friend’ that we invite on a regular basis.”
After that, she’d been spending most of her free time staring off into space, a dreamy smile and, sometimes, a blush on her face.  She was more than willing to work with the plan…  but also a very ambitious child.
She would go far in life, definitely.  She mostly hoped that Harry wouldn’t be too…  restrictive of her- the girl had a lot of potential, definitely.





Draco braced himself for a new batch of symptoms at the three day mark for the second set; Madam Pomfrey had noticed that the first set had lasted for exactly three days.
He wasn’t disappointed.
His entire body burned, like he’d been dropped into an active volcano.
It didn’t last long, fortunately- just a few seconds.

The headache, however, magnified itself to the point where he almost couldn’t think.  He spent most of his time curled up in a ball, his arms wrapped around his head, trying to calm the pain.  Madam Pomfrey fed him at mealtimes- and though he couldn’t see anything more than a strange wash of random colors when he opened his eyes, he did notice that the food she was giving him seemed to be rather exclusively vegetables.  He wanted a good steak, but she didn’t once give him anything that tasted like meat of any kind.  Something felt off about his body, but his head hurt too much for him to care.
> Chapter 20
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione scowled at the assembled class, before turning to Bonbon to mutter quietly.  “Where’s Malfoy?”
Bonbon shook her head slightly, answering in a similar mutter.  “He was bedridden for unknown duration by a severe reaction to Lyra’s…  thing.”
“Oh.”





“Here, Blinky.  Please take these to the instructors named…  but only when they’re not in class.”
The house-elf bowed, accepting the small stack of medical excuses.  “Will do, Madam!”  Then she disappeared with a sharp crack.
Madam Pomfrey sighed.  She knew the elf understood what she meant, and would accomplish her mission flawlessly, so that wasn’t why she’d sighed.  The reason she’d sighed was a combination of the fact that she’d needed to send so many medical excuses…  and that it had taken so long for her to track down Draco’s class schedule.  Had the Equestrians not come, it would have been as simple as finding the first year Slytherin schedule, and sending the notes to the appropriate professors…  but with the Equestrians, there were about three thousand student instructors running around…  and since she only had class listings, she had to search down every single one of them to identify which ones Draco was part of, and tell who she needed to alert.
This definitely needed fixing.
She took a deep breath, and looked out her open office door into the wardroom, at the curtain- surrounded bed that was Draco’s.  She didn’t know why his reaction to Lyra’s whatever-it-was had turned him into a small, shiny silver filly, but it had.  His headache had apparently been amplified massively at the same time, so she was fairly sure Draco didn’t realize he had been transformed like that.  She did, and as soon as he had transformed, she’d gotten out the privacy curtains.  She didn’t need anyone thinking he was an animal, or laughing at him.
She did find it rather interesting how, no matter how tangled and messy they got, it only took one stroke from her hand- not even a brush- to restore the perfectly neat brushed look to both his mane and tail.  Nevermind how the two royal blue stripes splitting his otherwise shiny silver mane and tail into even thirds were always clearly defined- all the blue hairs stayed in the blue stripe, all the silver hairs stayed on either side.  Even when she deliberately pushed them out of place, they just fell right back into place.
She’d helped groom the…  filly since his transformation.  She could tell, from the tiny twitches in his facial expression and other bits and pieces of body language making it through the apparently debilitating headache, that it provided him a small relief from the pain.  Not enough for him to properly awaken, but some.
And of course, food.  As she’d suspected would be the case from the moment she saw what he’d turned into, her diagnostic spells had taken half an hour to verify that he could only metabolize vegetables and water.  So, even though he made noises- with that cute feminine voice- about wanting some good meat to eat, she’d only given him vegetables and water.  By her best guess, meats- or any animal products, including milk- would mess his digestive system up…  and either poison him, or cause him to vomit.  Or both.
On the other hand, though, her spells had discovered enzymes for metabolizing foods that would normally be poisonous to humans.  That was one of the things that had caused her search for his schedule to take just over a full week- she’d been fascinated by that discovery, and had scanned most the rest of his body.  It seemed very much like he could come into direct contact with and ingest almost any plant, including things like poison ivy, without issue.
She found herself hoping that the transformation was just another temporary symptom; she did not fancy explaining why Draco had been turned into a filly…  and couldn’t be turned back to a human; she’d already verified that any kind of transformation magic would very quickly wear off, if it worked at all.
Speaking of which, there was another kind of magic that didn’t seem to be affecting him very much.
Back before the term started, she’d been contacted by his father, who had explained his special need.
Because the boy carried a family curse.
His hair would, if allowed to grow much at all, grind his scalp.  So, he’d had to come to her twice a week to be magically shaven bald- and he also had to wear a wig.
Then, he’d been turned into a filly…  and his mane, tail, and coat were all silky smooth and very soft to the touch.
The curse appeared to have been disrupted.  She prayed, for his sake, that it had been broken completely, not just suspended.  She hadn’t tried shaving his mane, tail, or fur- but she had placed monitoring spells to alert her to the first sign of injury, to allow her to come shave it the moment it became subject to that curse…  if it ever did.
She rose from her seat, and headed over to check on him.  As expected, he was still resting; his next meal wasn’t for another two hours, and assuming the seventy-two hour cycle that the symptoms had demonstrated so far continued, he wasn’t due for the next set for another twenty hours or so.
So she returned to her desk, stacked up all the class schedules, prepared thirteen thousand pieces of parchment and folders to put them in, and started down the schedules, creating class schedules for the individual students…  for her records, so she knew who to inform next time.
She’d have to ask Professor McGonagall if it was possible to have duplicates of the individual students’ schedules sent to her at the beginning of each year, so she could file them for quick retrieval if something happened.





Lucius Malfoy scowled at his breakfast.
“D-Did Dobby forget something?”
He closed his eyes, and let out a groan.  “No.  Now go.”
It wasn’t anything the elf had forgotten.  No; it was over a week since his last letter from Draco, who had been sending him letters almost daily…  then this silence.
He’d even sent two to his son, but gotten no response.
He let out a sigh, and ate his food.
After breakfast, he would write a letter to the school matron, ask her if Draco was still doing okay.  If he was still showing up for his regular haircuts.





Madam Pomfrey let out a sigh, upon reading the morning mail, and set it aside to start getting herself breakfast.
She hadn’t expected Lucius to ask about his son…  and she knew that, if she told him the whole truth, there was a good chance the boy would face undue hardship.  She wasn’t sure how much she could tell him- and to top it off, she knew better than to try lying or stonewalling; the man had a right to know.
The afternoon prior, she’d been with Draco for the seventy two hour mark again.  He’d transformed again- into a human girl.  He’d kept his mane from when he’d been a filly; it became his new waist-length hair…  and she’d checked, it was still silky smooth.
Meanwhile, he’d responded to what appeared to be a severe chest pain.
So she’d stayed up the entire night, studying his new form- she’d noticed about two minutes after the transformation that he still had all vegetarian teeth.  He could still only eat vegetables and water, but it looked like meat and other stuff would only give him an upset stomach, rather than a full-on allergic reaction like before.
Aside from that, she’d noticed that his headache seemed to be fading- her estimates put it fading completely at about twenty four hours after this latest transformation. .
She looked out into the wardroom again after her meal.  Ever since the headache had started, Draco had been completely unable to sleep.  She prayed, for his sake, that the pain would go away soon, and that he’d be able to sleep again.  She was even willing to keep him in, under her medical excuse, for a day or two after he made a full recovery, to let him catch up on his sleep!
She looked back at Lucius’ letter, and tilted her head.  It’d be two days before any reply to anything she sent got back, and that’d be the day of the seventy two hour mark.
She took a deep breath.  If she told him his son had been turned into a horse, or into a girl, he’d probably flip out.  But, she didn’t have to tell him the whole truth; as a matter of fact, he’d only really asked if the boy had been showing up for his haircuts.
She would tell him that he had been caught in a minor magical disaster a week ago, and had been recovering in the infirmary since.  She’d tell him she didn’t know when he would be fit for discharge, but that she expected it to be soon.
Which she did expect it to be soon.  The symptoms seemed to be fewer now, plus he was truly human, save only the vegetarian-only diet.  His magic seemed to be inactive, but that fit Lyra’s description rather well- she could discharge him while his magic was still inactive, once all the rest of the symptoms disappeared, so long as he made daily visits to make sure he was still recovering properly.
She heaved a sigh.  It didn’t feel right, but it was the best option she had.
She reached for a fresh piece of parchment.





Ginny Weasley stared out her bedroom window.
She wasn’t really staring out the window, of course; that was simply the direction her eyes were pointing.
She was contemplating.
It was something she’d contemplated many times over the last few weeks.
Should she go with the flow, and marry Harry Potter?
Should she instead try and break that marriage contract?  Follow her heart?
Should she write to the Ministry and ask for it to be cancelled?  It’d never actually be cancelled- Dumbledore and her mother would make sure of that- but her disagreement with it would be recorded.  It would be recorded forever- and that record would haunt her for the rest of her life.  That was the main reason she hadn’t done it already.
But then, especially once Harry Potter realized she had fallen for another man, would it be possible for them to be friends?
As near as she could tell, that answer was no.
That thought, that she would be forced to choose between her mother and her heart, had reduced her to tears for a week.
Nowadays, it still put tears in her eyes whenever she thought about it, but her mother- and the world- needed her to stay functioning, so she had determinedly suppressed those feelings.  It wasn’t easy- such was her curse- but she could do it.  She’d decided to declare that answer to be a yes, to herself and to the world.  If she had to, she would push Harry off a cliff when nobody was looking.  After stunning him, if he could apparate.  Or maybe tie him up in the basement.
Well, no, she wouldn’t, but she might just run away, grab that boy her heart had called out to, and leave the country with him.  Maybe- maybe even find out where all those new transfer students came from, that necessitated such a large train, and move to wherever that was.
She heaved a sigh.
She could still remember that boy with perfect clarity.  Such was her curse- or, in this case, she was more inclined to call it her blessing.  She would be able to recognize him on sight, completely independent of any pulls her heart made.
He was…  imperfect, to say the least.  He’d looked terribly undernourished- a little stunted, definitely small for his age; he was smaller than her.  Something that her mother would have fixed as a matter of course, were he to come visit.
But seeing all his numerous scars and the way his glasses were held together with a lot of plastic tape- it couldn’t have been very easy to see through them- told a story of its own.
He had been mistreated.  Underfed.  And so on.
But he had persevered.
He had an inner strength to him, that she had- rather disappointingly- found absent in too many.
Like Ron.  Sure, he was good at chess- but with anything else, he’d chicken out when the going got tough.  It was often only by threatening to tell their mother, or having one of the older brothers present, that she’d get him to stick around long enough to finish a task that had been assigned to them.
She sighed again.
She wondered if that boy shared in her curse, or not.
Her curse…
She shuddered.  She always did, when she thought about it.  She could still remember when she’d gotten it with perfect clarity.





It was the morning of her eighth birthday.  Ginnerva Weasley could feel that, even though she could also feel that she hadn’t awoken yet.  It was a strange feeling she’d never experienced before.
She opened her eyes.
She could see…  white.  She sat up, and looked around.
Endless…  white.  As strange as it was, she found it oddly calming to look at, rather than the alarm she knew she should be feeling.
She was lying, now sitting, on a circular platform of this whiteness.  It was almost like a bed, though it was soft to the touch and as solid as stone.  She even looked down- and found that she was wearing some kind of strange, pure white robes.  Even her skin seemed to be pure white.
She crawled to the edge of the platform, stepped off of it, and stood up, looking around.
The platform, once she was off of it, sank into oblivion.  She was then standing on a featureless white floor, looking around at a dense white fog that obstructed her view any more than about fifteen feet away in any direction.  The fog seemed to stand still when she moved around, like it was a fifteen-foot radius half-sphere of clarity in the middle.  She made her way to the edge, and tried peering into the fog, but it resisted her.  She pushed at it, but couldn’t get through it.
She tilted her head.  It was strange, and even though she knew that meant she was trapped, she didn’t feel trapped.  Did that mean there was a different point in all this fog that would let her through?
She tried that, and started clambering along the edge of the fog.
She was at the point of trying to climb it- without much success- when she heard a distant voice drifting out of the fog.  It sounded almost like it was the wind speaking, though there didn’t seem to be any wind.
“Ginnerva?”
She looked in the direction it came from, moved to the center of her space, and called out in response.  “Hello?”
“Ginnerva?”
“That’s me,” she answered.  “Who’s there?”
“I am an ancient goddess of old,” the voice spoke.  “I am not here; this realm, that you see, is the inside of your mind.”
She looked around.  “It’s so…  white.”
“It’s so pure,” the voice corrected.  “You are so pure.  It’s very rare, any more, to find one so pure.”
“Okay?”
The voice almost seemed to chuckle.  “And you’re also very much a Gryffindor at heart.  Good.”
She nodded.  “Well yeah.  My family has always been in Gryffindor.”
This time, it truly did chuckle.  “Dear girl, I have a very important mission for you, should you wish to take it.”
“Alright,” she nodded.  “I’ll do it.”
It paused.  “I have not told you what it is yet.”  It was not a question.
She nodded.  “I know.”
“Yet you are already agreeing to it?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then.  I like your determination.”  A pause.  “Your mission…  will be to reintroduce wizardkind to the muggle world- and vice versa.  Don’t rush yourself; you’ve got an entire lifetime to do that in.  Wizards need to realize that muggle society is ready for wizardkind to return to it- and the muggles deserve to be paid for what wizardkind is taking from them.”
She nodded.  “...  Okay.  Um…”
It wasn’t done yet.  “To help you in that mission, I give you the gift…  of vision.”
Something seemed to touch the inside of her head, and the fog blasted out in all directions, vanishing without a trace.  She looked around the now enormous plane of whiteness, all the way out to the brightly lit distance, and found herself feeling suddenly lonely.  “Woah.”  She spotted a spark of light some fifty feet behind her just moments before it spoke again.
“You will now remember anything and everything in perfect detail…  and see into the souls of those around you.  As a side effect, it should be distinctly easy for you to tell when you have found true love.  You will also be able to come back here whenever you want.”
Then it sparkled… and disappeared, leaving a glowing white scar floating in the air.
She sat on the endless, featureless surface, and wrapped her arms around her legs, somehow understanding that the goddess would not be able to hear her anymore…  nor she the goddess.  “Why am I…  alone?”
She closed her eyes…  and opened them again, willing herself to wake up.
It worked.  She sat up in her bed, looked around her room.
The lonely feeling was still there.
> Chapter 21
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, Fred.  Do you think it’s him?”
Fred Weasley nodded silently, in answer to his brother’s muttered question.  “How do you suppose we go about it?”
George scowled.  “Hmm…  He has to know he’s famous.”
“But he hasn’t been drawing attention to himself.”
George nodded.  “He’s clearly not a fan of it.  Then it seems he’s already got himself one friend.”
Fred grinned, glancing over to where the boy they were fairly sure was Harry Potter was sitting next to the bushy brown-haired girl they were also fairly sure was Hermione Granger.  “And a pretty close one at that.”  The two first-years were sitting side by side in the same chair, made possible by their small frames, while they studied something.  The girl had her wand out, with a hand on either end of it, and would occasionally lay it against the boy’s arm for a few seconds.
George tilted his head.  “Come to think of it…”
“Is that something normal friends do?” Fred asked.
They looked into each other’s eyes, nodded once, and headed out to meet the duo.
“You know,” Fred began, drawing their attention, “you make a cute couple.”
They both blushed, the boy more than the girl.
“So we’ve heard,” the girl intoned.
The twins knew instantly that they need not explore that avenue any more.
“Anyways,” George smiled.  “It’s nice to meet you!”
“I’m Fred,”
“And I’m George.”
“We’re pretty well known around here,” Fred mused.
“Well,” George scowled, “We were, until…  that happened.”  He gestured at the room at large, which was filled mostly by Equestrians.
“So you…  may or may not have heard of us,” Fred finished.
“Ahh,” the girl mumbled, before nodding to herself.  “You’re the Weasley twins, right?”  She sounded unsure.
“That’s us!” Fred announced.
“Nice to meet you,” George bowed, extending a hand in greeting.
The girl smiled.  “Nice to meet you too.  I’m Hermione, and this is Harry.”
Fred gasped theatrically.  “You’re Hermione?” he asked.
“Like, the Hermione, ahh, whateveryourlastnamewas?” George finished.
Hermione, who had been startled by Fred’s question, blinked twice, then laughed.  “Yeah, no, I don’t think so.”
Harry chuckled.  “You never know.  Hang around the likes of me for very long, and you’ll be famous in your own right.”  He grinned, winking at her.
She rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, right.  I don’t think fame is contagious.  But anyways.”  She looked up at the twins.  “I’m curious what life is normally like here at Hogwarts, before all the Equestrians showed up?”





Draco Malfoy was…  nervous, to say the least.
It had been two weeks since he disappeared into the Hospital Wing.  He’d been there for almost two full days after all the pain had gone away- and, the way he heard it, he’d turned back into a boy.
Madam Pomfrey had explained it.  Apparently, when the headache amplified itself, he’d been turned into some kind of pony…  then, when the chest pain came, he’d become a human again- albeit female and with a vegetarian-only diet.
Now…  She’d spent much of the last two days scanning him in as many ways as she could think of.
He was still not human, per se, but he seemed to have stopped changing.  According to her, he didn’t lose anything- except that his magic hadn’t fully recovered yet, and so would be completely unusable for a few more days.
He knew that the only reason she’d let him leave the Hospital Wing now, rather than in another week- or more- when it all wore off, was because she knew as well as he did that people would already be talking about it.
And the problems that could arise from that.
He had appearances to maintain, and appearances that he could maintain once again.  He’d have to keep his long, silvery hair tied up under his hat in the meantime; it had proven impractical to cut, as it regrew all the way to his waist in just a couple of hours.  He’d also have to return to the Hospital Wing for a ‘check up’ every day, including covering each of the seventy two hour marks, until he was fully recovered.
And besides.  Just because his magic hadn’t fully recovered yet didn’t mean he couldn’t still learn the theoretical parts of his classes.  Madam Pomfrey had switched the excuses she sent to his teachers from a full medical excuse to a partial one, excusing him from any and all practical portions.
He took a deep breath, and paused just outside his Charms classroom.
It was a different Charms class than he’d had in his first week.  In that class, both the instructors had seemed confused with what they were teaching, like they hadn’t learned it themselves yet.
In this class…  He hadn’t had an opportunity to show up for it yet.  He hoped that the instructors for his new class time actually knew what they were doing.
He remembered one from the Leaky Cauldron- Bonbon- but he only knew the name of the other instructor, Hermione Granger.
He took a deep breath, glancing up at the clock over the door.  He was…  seven minutes early, and had just come directly from the Hospital Wing.  He could hear the sound of other students on approach.
He reached up one hand, and knocked, before pushing the door open.
There were two people already there, sitting on a couple of the desks up front, where they had evidently been chatting.  One was an Equestrian- which he quickly recognized as Bonbon.
The other looked to be British, and had bushy brown hair.
It was this second one, with the brown hair, that spoke first.  “Well hello,” she greeted, hopping off the desk to step forward and shake his hand.  He noticed her eyes flicking down to the nametag on his robes for a half-second as she approached.  “Nice to have you, Mr. Malfoy.”
He wrinkled his nose at the address.
She paused briefly.  “...  Would you prefer I not call you that?”
He nodded tersely.  “Just ‘Malfoy’ is fine.”
She bowed her head.  “Alright then.  I’m aware that Madam Pomfrey excused you from the practical component today- I hope you’re doing alright, with whatever necessitated that?”
He winced.  “Eh.”
She shrugged.  “Well, then I hope it gets better soon.”  She glanced up at Bonbon.  “Oh, and we’ll be your instructors for this class; I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Bonbon.”





Time for a real-world test, Hermione thought.  It had been three weeks since she gained access to the Hogwarts library, and three weeks since she first encountered the Cutie Mark Crusaders.  This might be Draco Malfoy’s first class, after two weeks of medical absence, but he wasn’t able to do any of the practical parts yet.
Fortunately, that had been an easy fix- and one she’d been planning with Bonbon before he arrived.  He was given the study materials from the last few classes, and expected to study them…  and ask questions if he had them.
Bonbon had taken over, though- releasing her to tackle the Crusaders.
She already knew that Bonbon expected her new approach not to work, because of the differences between British and Equestrian magics.
She was a little worried herself, about that same difference; she’d so far only tested this technique with willing British students, primarily Harry and, at the end, the Weasley twins.  Meaning, she had no idea what results to expect from an Equestrian.
And she was going to try it with Sweetie Belle.
She knew that Bonbon half expected her to blow herself up.  She had described it as temporarily connecting herself to Sweetie on a magical level.
But Bonbon had never tried this either- and her handcrafted spell had safeties in it against that very eventuality.
As she approached, Sweetie Belle dropped her wand on her desk, as she had come to do whenever she approached.  For some reason, her wand was liable to explode on a moment’s notice, and produce some very strange, localized effects.  Bonbon had explained that, from past experience, those effects would be harmless to Equestrians- but they didn’t know how dangerous they might be to her, so it was best if she didn’t get caught in them.
She smiled.  “Hey, Sweetie.  I’ve got something that might help with that.”
The girl blinked, looking up.  “You do?”
She nodded, stepping around behind her.  “Yep.  Hold still for a second, please.”
“Got it.”
She then held both ends of her own wand, muttered a few incantations…  and touched the middle of the wand, very gently, against the back of Sweetie’s neck.  She’d found that to be the best point to touch with everyone she’d tried it with; the wrist of the wand arm was a close second.
She got a sudden flow of information, and had to pause for a second to sort it all out.  It was all unfamiliar…
Then, after another second, she recognized the critical component.
“Ahh,” she muttered.  “You’ve certainly got a lot of magic.”  She muttered another incantation.  “Okay…  Can you feel this?”  She used the new spell to, ever so gently, prod the raging inferno inside the girl.
Sweetie shivered.  “Y-Yeah.  What is…?”
“That’s your magic.  I want you to focus on it, concentrate on it.  Become one with it.”
Sweetie closed her eyes, and shuddered.  “It’s…  It’s…”
“Yes, it’s like a raging bonfire.  See if you can smooth it out- form it into a stream.  Like…”  One last incantation, that would let Sweetie see her own magic, however briefly.  “Like mine.  See that?”
Sweetie nodded, and mumbled.  “Yeah…  I think.  Um…”
Hermione continued coaching Sweetie through it.  It took close to half an hour of constant attention, and drained Hermione quite thoroughly; ambient magic wasn’t enough to power the spell completely, so she’d had to design it to draw on her innate reserves as well.
But Sweetie managed it.  The raging inferno, under intense concentration, flattened into a smooth, cohesive stream.
“Alright,” Hermione muttered, trying not to pant from the exhaustion of her magical exertion.  “Hold that…  and take your wand.”
Sweetie lifted her wand gingerly- but nothing happened.
“Okay.  Repeat after me:  Lumos.”
“Lumos,” Sweetie muttered.
“Good.  Now, keeping that stream smooth, open your eyes.”
Sweetie did.  “Is…  Did I do that?”  She was staring at the tip of her wand, glowing brightly, as if a small lightbulb had been attached to the end of it.
Hermione noticed Bonbon, halfway across the room, staring at her, but ignored it.  “Yep.  Now:  Nox.”
Sweetie repeated the incantation after her, and the light went out.
Sweetie dropped her wand, and looked at her hands, releasing her concentration on her magic.  “I…  I did magic.”
Hermione cancelled all her spells and straightened up, stowing her own wand.  “Yep.  And, so long as you form your magic into that stream every time, you can do it again.”
“Hermione,” Bonbon began, making her way towards them.  “How…  How in the world did you do that?”
She tilted her head.  “Do what?”
“You managed to teach a Crusader magic.  How did you do that?”
Hermione shrugged.  “Carefully.”
Sweetie giggled.
Hermione smiled down at Sweetie.  “I don’t know how your Raeth magic works, but I’d guess it’d benefit from that as well.”
Bonbon scowled.  “Sure you did.”





At the end of class, Hermione stayed behind in the classroom, with Bonbon.  She’d gotten the distinct feeling the girl wanted to talk to her alone.
Once the door landed closed behind the last student, she sighed, and turned to Bonbon.  “Yes?”
Bonbon answered with only a single word.  “How?”
“Carefully,” she smiled.  “I built safeties into that spell to protect me from any kind of backlash- then I used it to help her find and calm her magic.”
Bonbon blinked.  “Wait.  You made that spell?”
“Yeah?”
“And you haven’t even known about magic for two months.”
“Yeah?”
Bonbon shook her head… then looked up sharply and grinned.  “You know what?  I need to introduce you to Twilight.”
“Twilight?  Wasn’t she one of the ones that did the instructor thingy?”
Bonbon nodded.  “Right, yes.  But, I need to introduce you to her again.  And to Moondancer, Lyra, Luna, Sunset, and Starlight.  Because by Celestia did we underestimate you.”
She blinked.  “What?”
She sighed.  “Oh, you’ll see.  And I have to ask…  what did that spell do?”
“It…  Well, the main spell had six sequential incantations, then-!”
Bonbon’s hand had hit her forehead.  “So not only are you inventing new spells, but you’re already building compound spells, heretofore unknown to wizardkind?”
She blinked.  “What?”
“Compound spells, up until now, have only existed in Equestria, because Equestrian magic doesn’t require an incantation.  If it takes multiple incantations to launch it, that sounds like a compound spell.  I bet you have to say them at the right times and stuff, or it’ll all fall apart?”
She nodded.  “Yeah,” she muttered slowly.  “Is…  Whatever.  But that main spell only really let me find their magic, and see it directly.  The other two spells layered on top of it, and worked inside it- one to allow me to ‘prod’ their magic, to draw their attention to it, and the other to let them see my magic for a couple seconds.  I only really helped Sweetie find her magic, and encouraged her as she got it to behave on her own.”
She nodded slowly.  “So that spell allowed you to do in half an hour what dozens of skilled teachers failed to do in hundreds of hours…  by finding her magic?”
“Uh…  I guess?”
“Huh.”  Bonbon tilted her head.  “Out of…  curiosity, can you try it on me?”
She shook her head.  “Not right now, sorry.  The ambient energies aren’t enough to power it, so I had to make it draw on me as well, and…”  She winced, unsure of how to finish it.
“And it took so much to do it for Sweetie that you’re already suffering from thaumic exhaustion?” Bonbon asked.
“Uh…  I think?  I mean…  I’m probably going to sleep like a log tonight, but…”

Bonbon sighed.  “Yeah…  one of the side effects of thaumic exhaustion.  Don’t run yourself completely empty, or you’ll knock yourself out for a few hours.”  She winced.  “Well, an Equestrian doing that would just knock themselves out for a few hours, but we don’t know how you might differ.”
> Chapter 22
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fred and George Weasley were never nervous, worried, or anything like that.
If ever something interrupted them, or messed up their plans, they would improvise.  They would find a way.  And they had the full confidence that, no matter what happened to their plans, they could continue to do that, and accomplish whatever it was they were trying to do, no matter the opposition.
But George and Fred Weasley were nervous.
Voldemort was the one and only exception to that confidence.  Plus, it wasn’t even their plan.
And now, that entire plan hinged on Ron making friendly contact with Harry.
They’d been able to learn enough, from chatting with Harry and his friend Hermione (who was most vehemently not his girlfriend, even though they looked so much like a girlfriend/boyfriend pair), that they were reasonably sure Harry was following close enough to Dumbledore’s plan that it could still be salvaged.  They’d told Dumbledore that in a direct letter, and the response they’d gotten back had been nothing if not relieved.  Though there had been a note of alarm, regarding Harry’s position as a student instructor- apparently, the Headmaster had not heard that.
But they could not guide the boy the way Ron could, without drawing attention to their doing so.  They weren’t in his year.
Even so, Ron wouldn’t be able to guide him as well as the plan had called for; they didn’t share any classes.
They were worried that he would screw up the greeting, and permanently alienate himself from Harry.  If he did that, it was more than likely that Harry would depart from the planned path…  and never return to it.
They weren’t allowing any of that worry to show.
“Ahh,” George said, snagging a passing Ron’s hand, and pulling him in towards them.  “This is Ron, our brother.”
“Leave me alone,” Ron grumbled.  “I’m looking for Harry.”
Fred didn’t miss the way Hermione’s eyes narrowed, or how Harry’s eyes closed exasperatedly.  Ron was clearly already on the wrong foot.  He suppressed a sigh.  “Ron, meet Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter.”
His statement got no response from the duo, but Ron froze completely for a second.
“Did-?” Ron began, before turning to face them.  “H-Harry?  Then-!”  He took a deep breath, and looked towards Harry.  “There you are, Harry!  I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
Both twins facepalmed in perfect unison.
“We’ve heard,” Hermione barked.
George’s hand fell with his jaw.  Fred wasn’t much better- his jaw didn’t fall quite as far.  How could they have known Ron was looking for Harry?
“Why?” Harry asked Ron.
“Why?” Ron repeated back, surprised.  “Because…  Because I…”
George glanced sideways, to where a blue-and-white haired Equestrian had just stepped out of the crowd, arms folded and an expression of guarded curiosity on her face.
“Because you were looking for Famous Harry Potter, and hoping he’d have gold and jewels?” Harry suggested sarcastically.
“Ah- No, I-!”
Harry gave him a level look.  “Because you wanted to be my friend?”
Ron seemed to give up on words, and just nodded.
“Well get in line,” Harry instructed.  “You’re the…  what?”  He looked at Hermione.  “Four thousandth?”
Hermione checked her notebook.  “Yeah.  Forty eight seventy third.”
Harry nodded.  “You’re the four thousand eight hundred and seventy third person to say hi with the express purpose of making friends.  Get in line, and don’t bother talking to me again.”  He leaned back in the seat, letting out a sigh.
Hermione leaned back as well, as Ron- looking confused- was shoved away by Fred.  “You know, I kinda wonder how it took him so long to do that.  I mean, he sleeps in the same room as you, doesn’t he?”
Harry nodded.  “As a matter of fact, he sleeps in the bed right next to mine.”  He wrinkled his nose.  “I wonder if the Equestrians have an empty room somewhere?”
Fred winced.  “I’m…  sorry about that.”
“We,” George corrected.  “We are sorry about that.  He’s usually not so…”  He trailed off, shaking his head.
Fred shook his head as well.  “But that’s what happens when you give him an important task.  After all, he’s not, ahh…”
“The brightest crayon in the box?” Hermione suggested.
“Y-yeah,” Fred said slowly.  “I…  I hate to admit it, but yes, that fits.  Doesn’t it, Fred?”
George nodded- and didn’t miss Harry’s- or that blue-and-white-haired Equestrian’s- amused smiles.  “Wish it didn’t, but it does, George.”
“So,” Hermione began, leaning forward.  “What important task?”
The twins blinked in unison.  “Ahh…”
Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly at them.
“Err…”  They averted their gazes…  and met the blue-and-white-haired Equestrian’s gaze.
“What important task?” the girl repeated- wait, no, that wasn’t just any Equestrian, it was that girl from the Leaky Cauldron- what was her name…  Lyra?  She folded her arms, tilting her head inquisitively.  The rest of her body language informed them that she would not give up.
They looked the other way.
“Um…”
Hermione sighed.  “It’s secret, isn’t it?”
“Y-Yeah,” George muttered, looking at the floor in front of him.  “Though…  if…”
Lyra tilted her head the other way.  “How about if we find an empty classroom to talk in?  Could you tell us there?”
They looked at each other, sighed, and looked back forward.  “Might as well.”
Harry and Hermione snapped their books shut in perfect unison.  “Right then, let’s go,” Hermione stated, as they both stood.
Lyra blinked.  “Okay.  Um…  Classroom E-17 should be empty right now.”
“Lead the way,” Harry instructed her.
The twins nodded mutely, and followed.
They could hope that Harry would understand…  and follow the path.
Or that Lyra knew the right people in the Equestrian circles to make that path unnecessary.
Nothing else they could think of would work.





“So,” Lyra began.  “You’re telling us that Dumbledore has this elaborate plan to defeat this world’s local Big Bad, and in order to do so, he has to manipulate hundreds of people, including controlling every aspect of Harry’s life, so Harry can become a martyr?”
Fred nodded.  They’d just explained the plan, and Dumbledore’s planned path for Harry.
“Even though he has to have known that the unpredictable nature of the new-DADA-instructor-every-year thing is going to screw with any plans he makes?”
George nodded.
“And he decided to push those plans anyways, even after enough Equestrians entered Hogwarts to outnumber Wizarding Britain?”
Fred nodded.  “That did seem a bit strange to us, but…”
Lyra folded her arms.  “Huh.  I wonder…”  She turned to Harry and Hermione, who both had hands on their foreheads- from facepalming.  “Something tells me they didn’t find you right away.”
George shook his head.  “No.”
“Actually,” Hermione said, the corner of her mouth bending in a grin as she lowered her hand.  “You did, on the train.  You just didn’t know you did, because we said no.”
“...  Oh.”
“I wonder how you found them here?” Lyra asked.
“Ahh…  Dumbledore took forever to look up his class schedule, and sent it to us.  I think it was, what, three weeks?”  Fred looked at his brother.  “Four?”
George shrugged.  “Thereabouts, yes.”
Lyra snorted.  “Shoulda asked Professor McGonagall.  We gave her six copies of each student’s schedule, all nice and sorted, from the moment we built them.  But that does suggest he hasn’t been thinking very straight, doesn’t it?”  She looked at Harry.  “Perhaps he’s still at the point of trying to cobble together the remains of a plan that has already been blown to smithereens, and hasn’t yet realized he needs to accept that new variables have entered play?”  She folded her arms.  “Because if anything else, we are not going to surrender anyone.  We’ve faced a couple Big Bads over in Equestria, and beat every one of them without losing anyone.  Any less is unacceptable.”
Lyra looked between Harry, Hermione, Fred, and George, who were all looking at her.
She shrugged.  “Well, it’s unacceptable in Equestria.  I see no reason why it should be acceptable here either.  In any case, dooming someone to be surrendered is unacceptable.”





By the time they left that classroom as empty as they had found it fully three hours prior, both Fred and George had stopped worrying.
Lyra knew the right people in the Equestrian circles.
> Chapter 23
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco wasn’t sure what had caught his attention at the Gryffindor table as he walked past, but something did.  It was Tuesday evening, just the day after he’d been “discharged” from Madam Pomfrey’s care.  That day had included another seventy two hour mark, so Madam Pomfrey had excused him entirely from his afternoon classes, and kept him in the Hospital Wing for a few hours.  After spending those hours scanning him, she’d told him his Animagus magic had fully returned, but that was about it.
Which, considering he wasn’t an animagus, didn’t mean much.
He approached the Gryffindor table, scanning the part of it that had caught his eye.  It looked to him like a good number of the Gryffindors were coming for dinner, as he was.
At least Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for him at the Slytherin table- he didn’t have to worry about them.
Then…  he spotted it.
Exactly what he did not want to spot.
In order to appease his father’s worries, he’d sent a letter on Monday, telling what had happened.  Well…  some of what had happened; he hadn’t been entirely truthful.  His father didn’t need to know that it wasn’t a genuine magical accident.
The response he’d gotten this morning had been…  displeased.  He’d been instructed to save face, by meeting- and beating- the famous Potter boy, preferably in a duel.
He’d hoped to avoid encountering Harry Potter until his father gave up on that, and told him to do something different.
But there was no mistaking that lightning-bolt-shaped scar.
He’d spotted it when Harry had thrown his head back in laughter, at something the bushy brown-haired girl next to him had said- wait, no, that was Hermione Granger, one of the instructors in his Charms class.
He took a deep breath, and approached.
He still didn’t know what had caught his eye.
How was he going to do it, without looking like he had done it intentionally?  He’d have to incite an argument, probably, to invite an insult he could respond to.  But how could he do that?
And in front of one of his instructors, to boot?
He was almost there.
This action his father wanted to take would be his undoing.
Then Hermione looked up.
“Oh hey, good timing, Draco!  I’m doing a bit of a research project, comparing Equestrian and British magics, but I need participants.  We’ll be in classroom, uh,” she glanced down at her notebook again, “D-3 after dinner tonight- think you could spread the word at the Slytherin table, so anyone interested can come?  I don’t expect it to take very long at all, but I do expect to be able to learn quite a bit.”
He raised an eyebrow.  “With Gryffindors?”
“Oh, no, I’m hoping for as many British students as I can get from each of the four houses, and around twenty Equestrians from each as well.  I’ve already told the Hufflepuffs, and Professor Flitwick will be telling the Ravenclaws for me.”
“Ahh.”  Quick, he told himself, pretend you never saw the scar.  “Yeah, I’ll be there.”  Praying Potter isn’t on the same side of the room as me.
He nodded his head slightly, turned, and walked away from the table.  He could claim he’d meant to ask her a question, since she was one of his instructors, and been sidetracked by her request.





“So…”
Hermione jumped, turning sharply, and relaxed herself.  “Please don’t sneak up on me like that, Lyra.”
Lyra, who had been close enough she’d been whipped in the face by Hermione’s hair, scowled.  “Sorry.”  She sat down next to Hermione, on the side Harry wasn’t on.  “What’s this I heard about a research project?”
Hermione looked at her.  “I assume Bonbon told you what I did in class yesterday?”
She nodded.  “I heard you taught Sweetie Belle to use magic.”
“Yeah.  But I did it in a rather unique way.  I experimented with it a bit more last night, and started noticing some differences.  I want to say I can tell which tribe an Equestrian belongs to by looking at their magic.  Don’t know for sure, since I knew the tribe of everyone I looked at ahead of time, but…”  She shrugged.  “I also noticed a few differences in the British people I looked at- so my hypothesis is that British students can also be divided into tribes.”  She shrugged.  “If so, I want to see how much I can learn about the British tribes, and how similar- or dissimilar- they are to the Equestrian tribes.”
Lyra tilted her head.  “How might that be useful…?”
“Well, if the correlation is strong enough, you and your people could potentially use information like it to help evaluate if a given first-year student is eligible for the extended teaching program…  and what they’ll likely be good at.  I heard you basically guessed with me and Harry, and even then weren’t sure until after we were at the heads of our own classes, soo…”
Lyra tilted her head.  “...  True.”  She put a hand to her chin.  “This next year, I’m hoping to get a list of all the British first-years as soon as the Hogwarts staff can get it, meet as many of them in the Leaky Cauldron as possible, and possibly even start making housecalls to meet the rest.  Depending on what information you’re able to procure…”  She grinned.  “Could make the search that much easier.  Mind if I watch?”
Hermione nodded.  “Go ahead, but please don’t tell me anything I don’t ask for.  Until I ask for anything I might be missing.”  She shrugged.  “I don’t want to miss something by reason of expectation.”
“Got it.  Though…  with a large number of students, how are you going to remember enough to compare your discoveries?”
She tapped her wand, resting next to her plate, with one finger.  “Memory charm.”  She blinked.  “Er, not the one normally called a ‘memory charm’, that makes you forget- this one will enhance my memory of what happens in there.  And I’ll be writing a lot down, too.”





“I wish I could say we were here with good news,” the Prime Minister of England grumbled, as the rest of his cabinet gathered in the secret conference room that didn’t have a picture in it that set off motion detectors.
The Secretary of Defense sighed.  “How bad is it?”
“Not very,” he answered.  “I think.”
“...  You think,” the press secretary repeated.
He nodded.  “I think.  As for what happened…  You probably heard about the mass rolling stock acquisition and return in America?”
Nods went around the room.
“I heard the wizards covered their tracks pretty well on that one,” the Secretary of Foreign Relations mused.  “Lotsa memory charms, and they even thought to ask which ones were planned to go unused for a few days, too.  I heard some of them even got paid, though they couldn’t remember what they were paid for.”  He shrugged.  “Security cameras did.”
“Exactly,” the Prime Minister continued.  “I just received communication from the Minister for Magic.”
“Oh boy,” the Secretary of the Interior sighed, leaning back in her chair.
He nodded.  “Turns out it wasn’t an American operation at all, even though they acquired all American stock.”  He looked up, down the full length of the table.  “Hogwarts experienced a sudden explosion in attendance- and the wizards found themselves needing the rolling stock to carry some thirteen thousand students to the school this year.  Where those students came from…  He was hoping I knew where ‘Equestria’ was.”
“Equestria?” the Secretary of Defense asked, tilting her head.  “Sounds almost like it was made up- but with thirteen thousand students…  Do you think it’s possible they are a confirmation of the Multiverse Theory?”
“Possible.  In any case, if they’ve got that many new students at Hogwarts, wherever they came from, the wizarding population is going to be exploding in the coming years.  We’re going to have to step up our game with the Wizarding Investigations, and look into the possibility of introducing the general population to them before long.”  He sighed.  “And…  Minister Fudge wanted to know how hard it would be, and how much it would cost, to acquire a large amount of rolling stock to be permanently assigned to the Hogwarts Express.  Said the locomotives they acquired, however temporarily, from America did a wonderful job, even if they were a bit unsightly- and that any components that might overload could be magically reinforced, post-delivery, without issue.”
The Press Secretary snorted.  “Yeah, those freight locomotives would be a bit unsightly on a passenger train.”

The Secretary of the Interior scowled.  “They don’t have the space to store any more rolling stock.  Their shed’s full as-is.”  She tilted her head.  “Hmm…  How plausible might it be to connect the Wizarding Line to the National Rail Network, and locate a shed- and/or storage yard- for them somewhere else?”
> Interlude:  On the Implications of Tribal Magic in British Wizards
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


On the Implications of Tribal Magic in British Wizards
By Hermione Granger
Friday, Oct. 1, 2021


Many a person at Hogwarts this year, from students to instructors to even ghosts, are well aware of the number of Equestrian students attending- and equally aware that the Equestrian students are invisibly, magically divided into three tribes- Raeth, Aethr, and Etrah.  The Equestrian tribal magic allows members of the Raeth tribe to use wandless magic at an almost instinctual level, while also making it very difficult for them to use a wand at all.  The Etrah tribe is the most powerful, in terms of wand magic, and is also physically the strongest.  The Aethr tribe gets a mix of both worlds:  Some difficulty using wand magic, some physical strength, and, in a few notable cases, extreme physical speed.
But British wizards express none of these Equestrian magic effects; we do not have Equestrian magic.
Thus, when I discovered on Sept. 27, 2021 that the magical flow within the form of an Equestrian is comparable to that within a British wizard, I asked the question.
Can British wizards be divided into tribes of their own?  What effects does it have?
As it turns out, from a preliminary study conducted on Sept. 28, the answer to the first question is yes.
For this study, we gathered a large group of volunteers and compared their thaumic flow patterns.  British participants numbered 169 witches and wizards:  G-23F, 22M; R-27F, 21M; H-15F, 12M; S-21F, 22M, plus all four Heads of House, the Headmaster, and the Gamekeeper.  Equestrian participants numbered 533 witches and wizards:  G-92F, 6M; R-273F, 19M; H-57F, 3M; S-79F, 4M.  As lopsided as it appeared, the male/female distribution of Equestrian participants was approximately representative of all Equestrian students.
The magical flow patterns inside each participant were evaluated together and individually.  It was found that not all Equestrians fall into the three tribes; a few lesser tribes were discovered, but could not be named.  Some of these lesser tribes were merely highly specialized versions of the main three.
The British participants present were found to demonstrate flow patterns bearing extremely high similarity to Equestrian participants, and were also found to be divided into what appeared to be the same three tribes.
Naturally, there were a few exceptions.  Two staff members, who were known to be possessed with recent, nonhuman ancestry, were found to not belong to any known tribe.  All the other British participants could be classified into one of the three tribes; however, I found that nearly fifteen percent of British participants belonged to the specialized tribal variants, which are reportedly extremely rare in Equestria.
In an effort to identify any personality or lifestyle differences between tribes, we gave all participants a survey, containing questions relating to tribe, personal tastes, preferred lifestyle, and skills.
Members of the Aethr Tribe tended to have significantly more energy than the other tribes.  Aethrs are prone to run around freely and lawlessly, and poke at what they want to; a vast majority of Gryffindors were found to be Aethrs.  Of those that had experience on a broom, well over ninety percent of Aethrs were found to be naturals.  Upper-year Aethr participants tended to be best at Care of Magical Creatures and Charms.  It is worth note that very few Aethrs ever got lost more than twice on the way to class, even on the first day of their first year.  Not one of the members of the specialized tribal variant remembered getting lost even once, suggesting a gift for navigation.
Members of the Etrah Tribe tended to be the calmest, the most receptive to rules, and had the best work ethics.  Etrahs generally have no qualms with spending long hours doing manual labor, and tend to be stronger than the other tribes; a vast majority of Hufflepuffs were found to be Etrahs.  Of those that had experience on a broom, not one was a natural- and well over ninety percent were found to have had severe difficulties learning to fly.  Upper-year Etrah participants tended to be best at Herbology and Potions; to the point where only one non-Etrah participant had achieved an ‘Outstanding’ OWL in Potions, while about three quarters of all upper-year Etrahs had achieved such.  Not one of the members of the specialized tribal variant had scored less than an ‘Outstanding’ on their Potions OWL.  It is worth note that a vast majority of muggleborn Etrah participants enjoyed working on the family farm prior to coming to Hogwarts; those of wizarding descent were often found to enjoy helping their parents produce products for a family business, such as robes or cauldrons.
Members of the Raeth tribe tend to be calm and collected most of the time, but possessing of a short temper.  Raeths were found to be almost universally possessed by a sense of curiosity, though a vast majority were willing to sate that curiosity through books, rather than experimentation; a vast majority of Ravenclaws were found to be Raeths.  Of those that had experience on a broom, Raeths appeared to have no particular difficulty- or lack thereof- in flight.  Some Raeths were as bad as the Etrahs; some were as good as the Aethrs.  Upper-year Raeths turned out to be fairly well-rounded; they tended to have a high overall grade, and be particularly good at Transfiguration and Runes, though their Herbology scores tended to suffer.  Equestrian Raeths have had extreme difficulty getting their wands to function, but a majority of British Raeths were found to have successfully taught themselves at least one spell prior to their first year at Hogwarts- and the rest experienced little or no difficulty learning their first spells after arriving.  It is worth note that a majority of upper-year Raeth participants hoped for future jobs as instructors, designers, or magical engineers.
Participants from Slytherin House were found to have an approximately equal distribution between the tribes, and a majority of British Slytherins, especially those belonging to the Raeth or Aethr tribes, expressed either dissatisfaction or active dislike with their lot in life.  It is worth note that these dissatisfied Slytherins were almost exclusively from pureblooded families of high birth, and that such dissatisfaction was found to taper off in later years, suggesting indoctrination.
It is worth note that muggleborn, half-blood, and pure-blood participants were each approximately evenly distributed across the tribes, suggesting that tribal identity is either random, or persistent in muggles as well.
We also had a few magical and physical tests, the results of which were analyzed on a by-tribe basis, with separation between Equestrian and British tribes.  Physical exercises showed the same differences mentioned on the survey; differences between British tribes were far smaller than between the comparable Equestrian tribes, due to Equestrian tribal magic, but remained distinct and recognizable.
Magical results varied widely.
Equestrian Raeths were found to have direct, instinctive, and conscious control of their innate magic; many were able to demonstrate minor magical effects such as object levitation.
British Raeths were found to be natural silent spellcasters- requiring little or no training to use silent incantations, possibly thanks to a broader magical bond with their wand.  While lacking in instinctive, conscious control of innate magic, some British Raeths were able to demonstrate limited control of their innate magic for wandless capabilities, commonly referred to as ‘wandless magic’; all such Raeths remained fully capable of wandless magic when separated from their wands.  None demonstrated sufficient control for effects on the scale of the Equestrians, though the basic capability was demonstrated.
Equestrian Aethrs were found to have instinctive control of their innate magic.  The only effect produced during our study was a mild electric current arcing through the hair, which was described by the students in question as ‘weather magic’.
British Aethrs were found to suffer only slightly in wandless capabilities when separated from their wands.  Additionally, Aethrs were found to be capable of casting wand magic through their wands without issue when separated from the wand in question by as much as three feet, with no regard for obstructions.  This included when another was holding their wand.  Aethrs were found to be uniquely capable of summoning their wand mentally, not unlike how they might summon a broomstick, when separated by up to six feet.  A quick trial showed the plausibility of this effect being used to retain control of their wand when struck by the disarming charm, though any such capability in an uncontrolled environment, such as a duel or legitimate combat, would require training and practice.
Equestrian Etrahs did not demonstrate any magic during our indoor study; however, common Equestrian wisdom indicated that Etrah magic took form mostly in their massive physical strength, and also made them natural farmers, giving them the gift to tell exactly what any given plant did or didn’t need, at a glance.
British Etrahs, however, demonstrated an ability to use their wand as if holding it from as far as fifty feet away, provided they were linked by stone or other earthen materials; when paired with a summoning charm, this was shown to give them the ability to retrieve their wand from such distances.  Wandless magic was found to be significantly weaker than Raeth or Aethr wandless magic.  A wandless power boost could be acquired, bringing them just above Raeth or Aethr levels, by either direct contact with their wand, or direct contact with stone or other earthen materials.  Interestingly enough, a wandless defensive barrier was found to be far stronger when cast by an Etrah than by a Raeth or Aethr, even when without the power boost of stone or wand.  Some upper-year Etrahs showed a low-level ability to see through stone or other earthen materials, or to see from it.
It is worth note that none of these wand-related tribal abilities (remote use, wandless magic boost, etc.) functioned with another wizard’s wand, only their own.
This concludes the material findings of our study.
Yes, we British witches and wizards are divided into tribes, and are possessed with tribal magic.
Thus raises the questions:  Why?  Where did it come from?  Why is our British tribal magic so similar to, yet so different from, the Equestrian tribal magic?
> Chapter 24
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco was no stranger to nervousness by the time he headed for his first Charms class in October.
It was Monday.  And, at the seventy two hour mark on the preceding Friday, Madam Pomfrey had informed him that it seemed like his magic was returning…  rapidly.  Ever since, as Granger had informed him during her study that he was a Raeth, he’d tried to do magic without his wand, when nobody was present to see- but been unsuccessful every time.
And that day, mere minutes before she sent him down to Charms, she informed him his magic seemed to have finished recovering in full, though it was a lot stronger and felt different than it used to.  She’d advised him to be careful with his wand, but told him to go ahead and use it.
She’d also returned it to him- she’d been holding onto it in the Hospital Wing for him while he recovered.
He’d taken it…  and, before he could pocket it, it had gone off, for lack of a better word.  He’d have said it exploded, except it hadn’t been harmed.  Both he and Madam Pomfrey had been thrown away from the blast- and, by some miracle, the wand had stayed in his hand.  He’d folded briefly against the hard end of an empty bed, then fallen to the floor, landing on his face.  He’d pocketed his wand and risen to help Madam Pomfrey…  only to find out that Madam Pomfrey was already getting up herself.
She…  hadn’t looked like she normally did.  Her clothes were a bit singed.  The skin around her right eye, and her entire right arm, had been turned to metal.  He could see the numerous small metal pieces that comprised the skin in those locations shifting as she moved.
She’d been amused more than anything else, as she examined her arm, then she’d used a quick spell to turn it back to normal- and, once he’d mentioned the eye, the same spell plus a mirror to fix that.
He’d been immensely apologetic, but she’d waved it off, saying she’d have to experiment a little bit- apparently, she’d only disguised the metal, not truly changed it back.  She’d smiled as she sent him down- and when he left, she was looking at various objects around the room, including her wand, as if they were new to her.
She hadn’t excused him from the practical component of Charms today.  His hair was still long and silvery, and still done up under his hat.
He took a deep breath, glancing up at the clock over the door.  He was almost ten minutes early this time.
He raised one hand, and knocked, before pushing the door open.
As he entered, Granger looked up.  “Oh, Hi Draco!  I noticed Madam Pomfrey didn’t send an excuse for you- that mean you’re fully recovered?”
He winced.  “In…  In theory.  She said it felt different…  then, when I picked up my wand, it…  exploded all over her.”
Bonbon raised an eyebrow.  “Exploded…?  Sounds almost like a Crusader reaction.”  She looked at Hermione.
Hermione shrugged, drawing her wand.  “Mind if I take a peek?”
He walked closer.  “Sure.  It won’t…  hurt anything, after all.”
Hermione grinned, putting the tip of her wand in her other hand as he got close and turned around for him to reach the back of his neck.  That was where she liked doing her scan from during her study- the study he participated in, even if she silently excluded him from the magical experimentation portion.
He shuddered as he felt her spells activating.  Funny, he couldn’t feel them before.
There was a pause.
“...  Huh,” Hermione eventually muttered.  “Something’s amplified your power to the extreme- and stirred it up, much like an Equestrian Raeth…  Hmm…  Yeah, looks almost like a cross between an Equestrian and a British Raeth.  And yeah, if you try using your wand when it’s like this, you’ll get some…  wild effects, probably none of them being what was intended.”
He winced.  “Oh.”
“Yeah…”  She muttered an incantation, and he felt something poke at…  something inside him?  “Feel that?”
He nodded.  “Yeah?”
“That’s your magic- and what I’m looking at.  See if you can calm it down- and don’t bother with your wand until you manage it, because it’ll only explode in your face.”  She smiled.  “And don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it, either.”





Draco didn’t see it coming…  until he did.  About two weeks after his magic had fully recovered, and one week after his visits to Madam Pomfrey were readjusted into a weekly affair because nothing was changing, he saw an argument quickly building next to him in the Slytherin common room.  He’d gotten up early today, in an effort to get some Crabbe- and Goyle-free time to practice calming his magic the way Granger had shown him.
This was, of course, an argument between Equestrians.  Apparently, during a game of Truth or Dare, one had dared another to steal his hat, and a third was trying to stop the girl that had taken the dare.  Probably a good thing, since Crabbe and Goyle had just found him, and were lumbering over.  Judging by their behavior, they were all Aethrs.
Overall, he had perhaps three seconds’ warning.  The dare-taker evaded the other girl fairly easy, and dashed in to steal his hat.  He snapped a hand up to hold onto his hat, praying that they would see blonde hair when it inevitably came off, but was a touch too late- he missed, and she made off with his hat.
Crabbe and Goyle both adjusted their trajectories to reclaim his hat- and, before he could get in a word edgewise, they’d tried to take it back…  and the hat had been shredded in the process.  Crabbe and Goyle then went wholesale on the stealer, while the other two girls moved in to try and stop them from killing her.  He, still praying they saw blonde hair on top of his head instead of silver, exaggerated a sigh, stuck his nose in the air, and headed off towards the dormitories.  As he went, he saw the last Equestrian in the room standing up on the other side of the room, the turquoise glow around her quill vanishing as she dropped it on the page, and heading in their direction.
He didn’t lower his nose, navigating by the estimated direction to the dormitories and the ceiling, until he reached the stairs.  Fortunately, there weren’t any tables or chairs to get in his way- the previous night, a bunch of Equestrians had wanted to practice sparring, and had cleared a large area of the common room…  which had remained clear in the morning.
…  Funny, he could have sworn the spiral staircase wound the other way.
Once he got far enough up he was out of sight of the brawlers, he allowed his prayers to fall off, let out a huff of breath, and continued climbing.  Something seemed to shift inside him when he did that, but he ignored it.
When he reached the landing, he made a quick glance around the room- yes, it was empty.  He quickly located the first-year room, and walked briskly towards it.  It was still too early in the day for either of the last two British Slytherin boys to be awake; even Crabbe and Goyle were early risers, but neither of those were.  He’d have plenty of time to grab one of his spare hats, and perch it on his head, before they ever realized he was there.
He pushed the door open…  and froze.
There were two girls in the room…  and it didn’t look familiar.
He immediately withdrew, closing the door again, and took a deep breath.  One had been in what he assumed was her pajamas, and the other her robes.  The three other beds had the curtains drawn about them.
He took a deep breath.
Why were their girls in his dorm…?
Unless, of course, he’d walked up the wrong staircase.
Suddenly, the door into the seventh-year dorm opened, and a girl walked out of it.  “Mornin’,” she greeted with a slight nod, before glancing at him again.  “You might want to change into your robes before you head downstairs, by the way.”  She walked past, towards the stairs.  Right as she reached the top, a sound like a gong came from somewhere above him, and her hand flashed out in response to catch herself.  She pulled herself back up onto the landing.  “Huh, they’re early today.”
“Huh?” he asked, utterly confused.  He was a boy, in the girl’s dormitory…  and she didn’t even bat an eye at him.  He froze again, as soon as the sound made it past his lips, keeping the words he’d been formulating from coming out.
It wasn’t his voice that came out.
“Mm?  You don’t know?  Huh, I thought everyone did.  Well, since the crazy first-year schedules separate Crabbe and Goyle from Malfoy for most of the day, they keep searching for him whenever he’s not there- and they try coming up here at least twice a day.  The stairs morph into a slide for a minute every time they try, though, so they never actually make it up here.”  She shrugged.  “I hope nothing too bad befell him- the last time they tried this early in the morning was when he was still bedridden in the Hospital Wing.”
“...  Oh.”  Again, it most definitely was not his voice.
She tilted her head.  “Did…  Did you get lost, or something?”
He made a quick evaluation of his choices…  and resolved to nod meekly.  At least that didn’t feel wrong.
“Ahh,” she muttered, coming closer, to guide him with one arm.  Not unlike the way his father would ‘guide’ him, sometimes.  “Well, the Equestrian dormitories are through this door.  Anywhere beyond that, and you’ll have to either remember or find another Equestrian; I’m afraid I don’t know how it works in there.”
“Th-Thanks,” he managed, moving through the door she showed him to.
“Whelp, have a good day,” she smiled, and headed for the staircase again- which, he noticed, seemed to be becoming stairs again.  He could hear the grinding of the stone sliding back into place.
He turned away, as if to head to one of the other doors out of this also empty room, and let the door close behind him.
As soon as it landed shut, he checked that the room was empty again, and whirled around to face it, and stare.
He was sure that girl thought he was a girl too!
Something flew over his shoulder, and fell against his chest.  It was silver, with blue stripes- his hair.  Funny, he had that tied up on the top of his head.  He looked down.
And froze.
Just as the girl had suggested, he wasn’t wearing his robes.
Instead, he was a girl.
And he was wearing a deep, royal blue shirt, and a gleaming silver skirt.
He looked exactly like all the Equestrian girls did when they were doing their shopping in Diagon Alley.
He heard a doorknob rattle behind him, and whirled to face.  If he looked like this, they certainly wouldn’t realize who he was- but he still had no idea what to do.  He’d have to bluff hard enough to be able to stay up here somewhere until the common room downstairs emptied out, and he could sneak down and make his way to Madam Pomfrey without drawing attention.
It was the door with a 3 on it that started opening.  His breath caught as his mind went on overdrive, trying to figure out what to do, hoping whoever was coming out of it would be friendly enough to help him even just a little bit.
Then the door swung open.
It was Diamond.
She walked out calmly, and headed for the door he was standing next to.
“Good morning,” she nodded to him, as she approached.  She smiled.  “Did you forget your robes, or something?”  She didn’t stop to wait for him to answer, though, passing him towards the door.
“W-Wait!” he burst out, hope welling up in his chest like a balloon.  “Diamond!”
She paused, turning to him.  “Mm?”
“What…  What happened to me?”
She blinked.  “Come again?”
> Chapter 25
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Diamond blinked.  “Come again?”
“What happened to me?” Draco asked again, the not-his-voice coinciding with the not-his-body it was coming out of.
Diamond blinked again.  “Um…  Okay.  What’s your name?”
The hopeful balloon in his chest seemed to pop.  He averted his gaze- he couldn’t bear to lie to her, with how nice she had been to him before…  yet in order to not lie, he’d have to reveal himself.
“D- Draco.”
“Really?  Pretty sure Draco was a boy.”
“It’s really me,” he practically begged.  “I…  I climbed the wrong stairs by accident, and then…”  He glanced down at himself again.
She stepped forwards, putting her hands on his shoulders.  This was the first time she’d ever laid a hand on him- and he could feel her massive strength, expertly restrained.  “Okay then, missy.  Look into my eyes, and say that again.”
He did.  Her eyes had an almost impossible depth to them, that he found mesmerising.  He felt suddenly intimidated.  “I-!”  He gulped.  “I…  I am Draco.”
Diamond accepted it, her unwavering gaze breaking away from his first with a nod as she released him.  “Alright, I believe you.  Sorry about that.  So, um…  Do you want to talk about it, or…?”
“Ahh, sure,” he muttered.  “In…”  He glanced around briefly.
She nodded, grinning, and took his hand in hers.  “C’mon, this way.”  She pulled him- gently- back the way she’d come.
He followed.
She led him through a sequence of doors, like she knew exactly where she was going, and waved to a couple of other girls that happened to be in the other door-rooms…  until she led him through the fourth door, into a normal dormitory.  He winced as he entered, and she closed the door behind them…  then he realized that four of the beds in the room weren’t just empty, they were completely unused.  “What the-?”
Diamond shrugged.  “What?  They gave us so many of these rooms there’s twelve thousand beds up here.  I’m just one of the many that chose to have an entire dormitory to herself.”
He blinked.  “Meaning…”
She nodded, grinning.  “Meaning, for all intents and purposes, this is my bedroom.  But that’s irrelevant.  Now then.”  She stepped forward, sitting on the foot of the bed in the middle.  Only the one on the far left, on the opposite side of the room as the door to the bathroom, had the curtains drawn around it, a trunk at its foot, and other personal effects set about.
“Ahh,” he muttered, looking up and down the room.
She raised an eyebrow.  “What?  Would you rather we use my bed?”
He was sure he blushed at that, and moved quickly to sit next to her.  “S-Sorry, I…”
“Never been inside a girl’s bedroom?” she asked.
He nodded meekly.
She shrugged.  “As you can see, it’s really no different from a boy’s room.  Anyways, when do you think you…  changed?”  She gestured towards him.
He blinked.  “I…  On the way up, I think.  Why?”
“Because that’s a clue for what the trigger was.  You feel anything strange?”
He scowled, thinking back.  “I…  I was approaching the top when I thought I felt something shift inside of me, but didn’t think anything of it.”
She raised an eyebrow.  “So, it clearly wasn’t the anti-boy wards…  suggesting that you’re legitimately female now.  Well, um…”  She tilted her head.  “Anything you were thinking about when that happened?”
“I…”  He paused for a few seconds.  “Down in the Common Room, some Aethrs stole my hat, and it got destroyed when Crabbe and Goyle-” he took a certain personal satisfaction from how she wrinkled her nose at their names- “tried to reclaim it, so I headed upstairs to get a fresh one.”  He looked at the door out of her…  room.  “And, apparently, got the wrong stairs.  When I did…”  He tapped his hair, still hanging over his shoulder and down his front.  “I was praying they’d see blonde hair, rather than this.  That…  That shift happened about when I stopped.”
“Rather than that?”
He nodded.  “Yeah.  My hair has looked like this- and been impossible to cut- since before I first left the Hospital Wing.”
“Hmm,” she mumbled, rubbing her chin.  “Try…  Try concentrating on having blonde hair.”
He blinked.  “Why…?”
“Lyra’s been talking about some kind of ‘animagus magic’ that British wizards have.  She thinks it’s a major reason your reaction to her spellwork was so strong- apparently, it gives you a self-transfiguration ability.  Which, if you’re legitimately female now, as the stairs letting you up suggests, then your male form must have been provided by that ‘animagus magic’...  and somehow, concentrating on your old blonde hair- or something related to it- must have triggered it.”
He blinked.  “...  Okay.”  He closed his eyes, and concentrated.  Blonde hair…
He could tell when he succeeded- something shifted within him.  He couldn’t tell what it was.
“Well, that worked,” Diamond muttered.
He opened his eyes, letting his concentration fall, and looked down…  in time for his black robes to be replaced by the flashy clothes.  “What-!?”  He took a deep breath.  “It…  It came back as soon as I stopped.”
“Really?  Interesting…  Try concentrating on being your old self, but with this hair.”
“Oh…  Okay.”  He shuddered, but did that- and was rewarded with the third shift in a row.  Nothing reverted when he relaxed his concentration.
“Huh,” Diamond mused.  “All stable?”
He nodded.
“Well, you seem to have blond hair, and your hat.”
“Huh?”  He raised one hand to feel it, then sighed.  “Oh.  It’s…  It’s a modified wig, under the hat.”
“Ahh,” she nodded.  “Alright.  So, we now know that you can change yourself at will.  There’s still the problem of getting you out of the girl’s dormitories without being seen coming out as a boy.”
He winced.  “How…  How would we do that?”
“Easy:  You turn back into a girl.  You can do that, right?  Then, I have a ‘friend’ that can furnish you with new robes for said girl form.”  The way she said ‘friend’ sounded off to him.  “You put those on, then we head down together, disappear into the castle, and find someplace secluded for you to take your normal form in.”  She shrugged.  “Might not be a bad idea for you to get yourself an invisibility cloak or something, and store it on your person- say, in your girl form’s pockets, since Twilight said your clothes would come and go with each form- for in case this ever happens again.”
“Twilight-?” he began.
She nodded.  “Yep.  And no, she doesn’t know- I asked her a week ago what would happen if a wizard were to have an animagus form that happened to be another wizard.”  She shrugged.  “Just seems like you have two.”
“Okay,” he muttered.
Silence held for about a minute.
“Sooo,” she began.  “Are you going to girl up, or…?”
He winced.  “Do- Do I have to do that now?”
She shrugged.  “Flexible Fabric can’t give you new robes if you’re not present, you know.”
“Oh.  Then…”  He took a deep breath, and concentrated.  Moments later, he felt that shift again.  He glanced down at himself- he was a girl again, as well.  Then he blinked.  “Wai--  er, Wait.”  He stuttered over his female voice, but forced himself to work through it.  “Her name is ‘Flexible Fabric’?”
Diamond nodded, standing.  “Yeah.  She hates it too.  C’mon- fortunately, with the way they built these dormitories, she isn’t far.”  She glanced at the clock.  “And she won’t have gone downstairs yet, either.  Oh- and don’t mind the lingo going around in here.  A lot of the Equestrians are pretty…  loose-lipped when they think they’re among their own kind.”





The walk to ‘Flexible Fabric’ was fairly short; they went out through three doors, then in two more, before Diamond knocked on a door with a 4 on it.
There was a thump inside, and an “Ow!”, before someone ran up to and answered the door.
It was another Equestrian girl, exactly as expected…  however, she was only partially clothed.  She was wearing a black skirt and matching bra…  but no shirt.  He determinedly kept his eyes up, on the girl’s hair.
“Geeze, Flex, get a shirt on,” Diamond retorted instantly.
The girl rolled her eyes.  “Sorry, miss, but you knocked while I was getting dressed- and it’s not like we aren’t all mares in here anyways.”
Diamond rolled her eyes.  “We aren’t,” she stated plainly.  “I’m a filly.”
“...  Oh, sorry.  What’d you need?”
“Well, someone stole, ah, Silversong here’s clothes overnight, or something- she’s been running around in her initial outfit for the last hour or so trying to find it.”
Draco pretended the name wasn’t new.
“Or something?”
She shrugged.  “All we know is that they weren’t where she put them last night when she got up this morning.  And for some reason, they left her initial outfit, so…”
“Ahh,” the girl muttered.  “Then…”  She looked at Draco.  “Full set?”
“Ahh,” Draco began, his mind occupied by not looking down.
Thankfully, Diamond saw his struggle, and stuck her head in front of him, blocking the girl’s gaze.  “She’s a younger filly than me, Flex, you’re driving her crazy.  And yes, a full set.”
“Hey, no need to be bossy.”
Diamond lowered her tone dangerously.  “If you want me to be bossy, that’s my Cutie Mark talent.”
Draco took a worried step back, away from her.
“Ahh,” Flexible muttered, looking worried.  “No need for that, sorry.  I’ll get her clothes.”  She looked at Draco.
Draco shivered as something caressed his form.  It didn’t feel like a physical touch, but it touched parts he knew he didn’t normally have, and it made him cringe.
“Tribe?” Flexible asked.
Diamond looked at Draco, and looked to be about to answer for him when he spoke.
“Raeth.”
“Got it, be back in a minute,” Flexible muttered, and closed the door.
He didn’t miss how Diamond raised her eyebrow at him, but she stayed thankfully silent.
When the door opened again, Flexible Fabric had found herself a shirt, but hadn’t donned her full robes yet.  “Here you go, Silversong,” she muttered, offering a stack of folded black fabric to him.  “Sorry about the shirt.  Don’t lose these, okay?”
Draco accepted the fabric; he could tell the item on top, at least, was a set of robes.  “Th-Thank you.”
“Just doing a service to a fellow Equestrian in need,” Flexible smiled, bowing, before turning to Diamond.  “Okay then.  Do you need…?”
Diamond shook her head.  “Nope, that’s all, thank you.”
“Alright then, have a good day.”  Flexible closed the door.
Draco let out a sigh.
“Alright then,” Diamond smiled at him.  “C’mon.”  She led him right back to her room.  “This should work- you can change into those robes in here.”
“Ahh…”  He looked at the robes in his hands.
“Here,” she smiled, taking the stack from him and putting it on the bed.  “I’ll go wait behind my bed, so you don’t have to be self-conscious.”
“Why?” he asked, lifting up one set of robes.  “Don’t I just put it over my head?”
Diamond shook her head.  “Nah.  You’ll want to change your shirt and skirt as well- if you don’t, it’ll be visible.  And as for the other two articles…”  She gestured to the pile; when he looked, he saw what she was talking about, and looked away, blushing.  It was the kind of thing no boy his age had any business laying eyes on, worn or not.  “If that really is your initial outfit, the ones you’re wearing are not very comfortable, and will start to hurt the moment you start moving around very much.  So, since there’s no telling how long it’ll be before we’re able to get you someplace suitable for transformation…”  She shrugged.  Then she looked at the articles still sitting on the bed.  “You…  do know how to put them on, right?”
“Ahh,” he muttered, looking back down at the foreign pieces of clothing.

He didn’t know.
> Chapter 26
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, ahh,” Draco mumbled, still in female form but now fully robed, once his blush had faded at least a little.  Diamond had had to help him with not just both of the obscene articles- there was the one he didn’t know how to put on or take off, and the one he couldn’t figure out which end went forward- but the skirt as well.  She’d done it cheerfully, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like an invalid.
He hoped, almost prayed, that that was both the first and the last time he’d have to worry about any of that.
Though there was a part of him, however small, that wanted to…  for the sole reason that he could choose it.
“So,” Diamond answered him.  She was sitting on the bed next to him, and had been since he finished.  At least he’d been able to get the shirt and robe by himself.
He took a deep breath.  “So…  you’re older than me?”
She blinked, then nodded.  “Yeah.  Had Lyra opened her portal before I turned eleven, I’d be a second year right now.”
He looked at her.  “What?”
She nodded.  “I turn thirteen next month.”
“Then…  Silversong?”
She winced.  “Sorry…  I didn’t realize until it was too late that she’d be suspicious if you didn’t have an Equestrian name we could give her, so I just…  gave you one, I guess.”  She looked up at him.  “I hope it’s not too bad.  The first one that crossed my mind was Bluebell, but…”  She chuckled when he wrinkled his nose.  “I saw that coming.”  She tilted her head.  “And you’re a Raeth?”
He nodded.
“How…?”
He shrugged.  “I participated in Granger’s study.”
She blinked.  “Oh.  That would do it.”
“So…  Mares?  Filly?”
She nodded.  “Yeah…  About that.  First, you should know that’s still an Equestrian national secret.”
He blinked, and looked at her.  “What?”
She nodded.  “The Princesses are worried about what the British government- both the magical and nonmagical alike- would do if they realized that all the Equestrians are ponies, not humans, on the other side of our Gate.  Which, actually…”  She rubbed her chin.  “Lyra’s Papa Tango- that’s the spell she tested on you before she remembered to ask for permission- was designed to make you into an Equestrian.  Compounding that with how your natural form is clearly female, else you wouldn’t have made it up the stairs, and you’re probably actually a filly as well.  I was just saying it, for Flexible Fabric’s benefit, without going through the full chain of logic, but it’s probably actually true.”
“So I’m-!” he began.  “I’m…  not human?  How…?”
She shrugged.  “Normally, I’d say the only way to tell would be to travel to Equestria.  But we already know you have a self-transfiguration ability from your British magic that Lyra’s spell didn’t take away, so…  Try it.”
He blinked.  “Uh…”
“Think small, four legs that end in hooves, kinda horse-like but also kinda not, fur coat that’s probably either silver or blue, like your initial outfit, a mane and tail to match your hair, a horn sticking out of your forehead if you’re a Raeth…”
He closed his eyes, and concentrated.  Her description was drawing a very rough image; it was hard to figure out what to concentrate on.
Very suddenly, he managed it.  He felt something in him shift- rather larger than when he was going from boy to girl or vice versa.
He also fell on his front.
“Yeah, just like that,” Diamond said.
He opened his eyes, and lifted his head up, looking…  around at himself.  “Oh.”
He was some kind of… horse creature.
He closed his eyes, concentrated- and moments later, he was a human girl again…  and falling face-first off the bed.  He ended flat on his back, on the floor.
Diamond giggled.  “Forgot to account for the growth back to human size, eh?”
“Ow,” he complained.
“Yeah, that did look like it hurt,” Diamond agreed.  “But you’re a filly, so you’re virtually indestructible as well.”
He raised an eyebrow.  “What?”
She nodded.  “Yeah.  Nopony knows why, but fillies in particular are virtually indestructible.”
He shook his head.  “Whatever.”
She nodded.  “My thought exactly.  So, ready to tackle the world, or no?”  She rose from the bed, and offered her hand to help him up.
“As Silversong?” he asked, taking the offered hand.
She nodded.  “As Silversong, yeah.  At least until we find someplace private enough for you to transform covertly.”
“Alright then,” he muttered.  “As Silversong it is.”  He took a deep breath.  “I’m- I’m ready.  I think.”
Diamond grinned.  “Just remember, Silversong is not Draco, and no one will realize you are Draco.  So, act as you want to.”  She glanced at the pile of robes still on the bed.  “And…  Here, I’ll hold onto the rest of your new clothes in here, for until and unless you want or need them again.”
He winced.  “Here’s hoping.”
She sighed.  “Alright, c’mon.  You don’t want to wait for class like this, do you?”
He squeaked, and followed her out of the room.





They made it as far as the common room before they stopped.
“What in the world-?” Diamond asked.
There were desks, chairs, and various debris that used to be the same strewn all over the place.  There were a few students lying in the corners, including that seventh year that Draco had first encountered, sitting behind an upturned desk and clutching what looked like an injured arm.  Goyle was lying, unconscious, at their feet.
“Take cover,” the seventh-year muttered.  “They’re…”
There was an echoing crash, as another table was snapped in half about halfway across the room, where there were a few people fighting.  One looked to be using a few pieces of some tables, wrapped in the turquoise glow of their Raeth levitation, as weapons and shields.  One, was Crabbe, smashing anything and anyone that got too close.  Then, there were three more Equestrian girls, fighting against the other two.  They looked like they had been brawling, as three distinct parties, for a while- and none of them showed signs of wearing out…  or surrendering.
The seventh year winced- then Diamond effortlessly lifted the table she was hiding behind into the air.  “Oy,” she yelled, and hurled it across the room.
Her aim was true.  The levitation-using girl turned just in time for it to slam straight into her forehead so hard it shattered.  She went straight to the ground like a load of bricks.
“Stop fighting,” Diamond ordered, marching forwards.
The seventh year squeaked, seeming torn between pulling Diamond back and scrambling behind some other piece of debris, but the remaining combatants stopped fighting.
Well…  The remaining Equestrian combatants.  Draco was certain he heard at least one of them cursing under their breath.  Crabbe, however, simply roared, and charged Diamond.
“Look out!” the seventh year called almost desperately- then Crabbe reached her…  and she flicked him to the side with the flick of her wrist, dropping him to the floor, whereafter he didn’t move.
“What was that for?” Diamond demanded, still marching towards the last three girls.
Draco shook himself out, then crouched down by the seventh year girl.  “You okay?”
“What-!” she began.  “What about her?”
Draco glanced up at Diamond.  “Oh, her?  She’s an Etrah.  Those other three are Aethrs- she’s already got them cornered.”
“But-!”
“This isn’t Equestria, they can’t fly.  And fast isn’t going to help them against someone like Diamond.”  He looked up as the three began to spill.
“I-It was my fault,” the one to Draco’s left began, raising a hand shakily into the air.  “W-We were playing Truth or Dare…”  She gestured towards the middle one.  “I dared Feather Cap to steal Draco Malfoy’s hat off his head…  I meant it as a harmless prank, but I didn’t see Crabbe and Goyle on their way.  Neither did she…  but Keen Eyes-” she gestured to the one on the right- “did, so she tried to stop her…  ineffectively.”
“Then, lemme guess, those two attacked Feather?”  She gestured towards Crabbe.
The girl nodded.  “Yes.  The hat got shredded- I still don’t know how that happened- before me or Keen were able to help her fight them off.  They…  We would probably have all been crushed by them, had Draco not gone off somewhere- I think he was going to get a new hat or something, because Goyle went to follow him…  and climbed the wrong staircase, for some reason.”
He could almost hear Diamond rolling her eyes.  “They do that all the time.  Too stupid to find the right staircase without a neon sign, I think.”
The girl blinked.  “Ahh…  then she joined in…”  She pointed at the girl Diamond’s throw had taken out.  “I…  I think she was trying to break up the fight, but when we tried to retreat, she didn’t let us.”
Diamond sighed, and looked back at Draco.  “Silver, can you get Bonbon?”
He looked at her.  “Huh?”
Diamond winked.  “Two four, three seven.  Knock five times.”
He blinked.  “Uhh…”  Then it clicked.  “Oh!  Okay!”  He jumped up- the seventh-year girl seemed to be at least okay- and jogged back up the spiral staircase, determinedly suppressing his shudders at once again ascending the stairs into the girl’s dorms.
Once at the top, he went through the Equestrians’ door first…  then found the numbered doors in sequence- two, four, three…  and finally seven.  He didn’t go through that one, though, and instead knocked five times.
He barely had time to lower his hand before the door flew open, and Bonbon stepped out, her robes undone and billowing behind her, still putting her hat on her head.  He caught a glimpse of what looked like a very startled Equestrian peeking out from behind the curtains around her bed before the door landed closed.
“What is it?” Bonbon asked, already heading for the exit.
“Ahh-!” he began, jogging to keep up.  “Diamond asked me to get you…  there was a brawl in the common room, but she stopped it.”
Bonbon sighed, and marched onwards.  “Of course they would.”
She continued her blistering pace until she reached the bottom of the stairs, where she stopped to survey the room.  He stumbled slightly on the stairs behind her, but managed to avoid falling- or running into her.
She sighed, and looked back at him.  “Miss…?”
He blinked.  “Ahh, Silversong.”
She nodded.  “Silversong, then.  Can you get Madam Pomfrey?  There’s at least seven badly injured.”
“Got it,” he answered, and ran for the exit.  He glanced back as he waited for the wall to open, and saw Bonbon talking to Diamond.
As soon as the wall was open far enough, he resumed running, heading straight for the Hospital Wing.  Fortunately, he knew a few shortcuts that most other Slytherins would not.
But he had only climbed two floors up when there was a hiccup in his plans.
He nearly crashed into Professor Snape, a mug of something in his hand.
Snape looked down at him.  “What are you doing up at this hour, miss…?” he asked.
He almost blinked- he’d forgotten to shift to male form.  He decided to roll with it.  “Silversong, Sir,” he answered.  “There was a brawl in the common room, and a lot of people got hurt, so Bonbon told me to get Madam Pomfrey.”
He sighed.  “You know where you’re going?”
Draco nodded.  “Yes sir.”
“Then carry on.”  Snape sent him on his way, and guzzled the contents of his mug.  Draco glanced back as he reached the corner, and saw Snape turning away from what was presumably his office door to head towards the Slytherin common room.
He continued on his way.
It wasn’t long before he reached the infirmary, and knocked.
There was a distinct clunk on the other side, like metal on stone, then the door opened, and Madam Pomfrey looked out.  “What is it?”  Then she blinked.  “Wait.”
Draco didn’t wait for her to finish.  “Hi, it’s me, Draco…  slash Silversong, right now.  Um, there was a brawl in the Slytherin common room, so Bonbon sent me to get you.  Said there were at least…”  He paused to remember.  “Seven badly injured, I think.”
Madam Pomfrey sighed.  “What about you?”
“Turns out I can shift at will.”
She nodded.  “Animagus, then.  You shifting before we go, or…?”
He shook his head.  “They’ll be expecting to see Silversong return, not Draco.”
“Alright then,” Madam Pomfrey sighed, stepping out of the Hospital Wing and closing the door.  “Let me start by thanking you for blasting me like that when you got your wand back.”
“...  What?” he asked.
She nodded.  “Thanks to those changes, I can now do things like…  this.”  She touched his shoulder, then blue energy whirled about them.  He felt a small jolt, then the energy vanished just as quickly as it came…  and they were standing outside the Slytherin common room.
He blinked.  “Oh.  Um, Purebloods.”
The wall responded to the password, and he allowed Madam Pomfrey to lead the way in.
> Chapter 27
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Professor Snape was already there; it looked like Bonbon was explaining what had happened to him, with Diamond by her side.  She saw Bonbon look up between sentences almost as soon as Madam Pomfrey entered.  “Madam Pomfrey,” she greeted.  “Worst one’s over there, then there’s…”  She pointed out the locations, and named priorities, of injured students.
Madam Pomfrey nodded, and hurried off towards the ‘worst one’.
Bonbon hardly drew breath.  “Silversong, can you get Luna?  Seven one, five three, tell her Sweetie Drops asked for the Princess in the common room.”
“Yes ma’am,” Draco answered, and ran for the girl’s dormitories again.  It almost felt normal that time, but he still had to suppress a shudder as he ascended the steps.  He navigated the Equestrian dormitories again, found the destined door, and knocked.
It was answered by the girl he recognized as Princess Luna, from the Leaky Cauldron.  “What?” she asked.
He bowed lightly, remembering what she’d said at the Leaky Cauldron about on vacation.  “Uh, Sweetie Drops asked for the Princess in the common room,” he muttered.
Luna rolled her eyes.  “And it’s not even two months in.  Whatever.”  She stepped out, pieces of dark blue metal- no, regalia- following her.  “At least we made it through a whole month before something happened.”  She marched off towards the exit; Draco followed.
By the time they made it down to the common room, Draco noticed the entry wall was opening again…  to admit Professor Dumbledore.
He resisted sighing.  The higher-ups had clearly been called, on both sides…  and all because of his hat.





It took nearly two hours for everything to get processed.  Draco had to stay for the whole thing; they kept asking him questions, which he answered as truthfully as he could.
It rather helped that nobody realized he was Draco, and so he never got asked about that.  They also assumed he hadn’t seen how it started, because of course Silversong wasn’t present when it started.
When asked why he hadn’t helped Diamond subdue the combatants without hurting them (it turned out that the Raeth Diamond had hit with the table had a concussion), he’d answered that she knew what she was doing more than he did, so he’d let her lead.  When asked why he hadn’t tried to help, he’d answered that he didn’t have nearly enough skill with his Raeth magic to do anything of value to her, and he wasn’t sure where his wand was.  Which was true enough- when he had shifted to his male form in the dormitory, it had been in his pocket…  but it had disappeared with the pocket when he took his female form, and he wasn’t sure where that pocket was.  It certainly wasn’t the same pockets as were in his female form’s robes.
In the end, much of the time had been spent explaining what had happened to Dumbledore.  Apparently, Bonbon had figured out so many details, to an alarming level of precision and accuracy, just by looking around the room.  Dumbledore- and Snape- had then asked questions…  then Silversong had received five points for keeping a cool head in a tense situation.
When he’d asked what Dumbledore was talking about, he’d mentioned how Silversong had been able to determine that Diamond had the combatants handled from the very beginning, and had moved on- of her own volition- to making sure the other students that had gotten caught in the fight were okay, even before she had further instructions.  Then of course, Dumbledore had blinked, smiled, and given Silversong five more points, for her willingness to follow those instructions, and general helpfulness.
Of course, because Snape had seen him heaving heavy furniture fragments off one of the British students that had been caught in the fight, before Madam Pomfrey got to them, he’d asked why he didn’t use his Raeth magic when he did that.  He’d answered that he was unskilled enough with his magic that there’d be too much risk of hurting the trapped student even more.
Then Diamond had stepped in and said something about ‘magic kindergarten’ that seemed to confuse both Snape and Dumbledore, but they accepted it and stopped asking.  Whatever it was, he’d apparently been halfway through it when he got his Hogwarts letter.  He’d tried to look like the news wasn’t new to him.
Finally, towards the end, the Raeth Diamond had knocked out had woken up…  and attacked Princess Luna.  Her attack only managed to knock the unprepared Princess down before Dumbledore’s and Snape’s stunners both hit her, knocking her straight back out again.  Luna had risen slowly, dramatically, and overruled Dumbledore’s decision to give the girl detention.
“She just attacked her diarch,” Luna had stated dangerously.  “Thus ends her tenure at Hogwarts.  I will be taking her back to my sister in Equestria, to determine the length of her stay in prison.”
Dumbledore had then mentioned the Wizarding Prison, Azkaban.
Bonbon had shaken her head.  “It won’t be effective against Equestrians.  Our magic comes from inside- and mere bars will only work for an Aethr…  and even then, only for a limited time.”
Then Luna had disappeared into thin air, the girl in tow.
Upon return, some five minutes later, she said she’d discovered the girl had a long criminal history in Equestria, including a previous discharge from prison…  so she was now a lifer, and could be permanently removed from Hogwarts’ attendance lists, as she would never be returning.
Dumbledore had accepted the explanation.
When the two professors finally left, Draco was then hounded by at least a few students that wanted to hear his side of it.  He wasn’t able to get rid of them until after breakfast, when they had classes.
Finally, he managed to ditch his followers while meandering randomly through the passages…  with a nearly-overflowing bladder.  He had not been looking forward to finding out how girls used the bathroom, and he did happen to be in a passage with bathrooms- so he glanced both ways to make sure he was alone, shifted to male form, and stepped into the boys’ bathroom.  For as much as his clothes came and went with the form, his bladder did not.





Harry smiled, wrapping an arm around Hermione as she curled up against his side in their armchair, in the Gryffindor common room.  Ever since they’d met on the train, they’d both served as anchors of familiarity to each other- and so, since they were both skinny, they often ended up sitting in the same chair while they studied, and helped each other out whenever they had issues.
He was fairly sure he benefited more than she did from that part- but then, the other part came in.  She often finished her schoolwork long before he did, and moved on to whatever project she was working at the time.  Sometimes it was lesson plans for her class, sometimes it was plans on how to help a particular student (usually Applebloom, he’d noticed).
And more recently, she was experimenting with herself.  During some of his free time, she’d done for him what she’d done for Sweetie Belle- and helped him find the magic inside him, to calm it down.  He’d found that his wand magic came easier when his magic was calmer, but he hadn’t been able to get it to calm down very much.
He knew she was trying to get hers as calm as she could.  He’d mentioned Rarity’s annoying levitation shortly after she’d finished her little research project, and she’d dove into it with vigor.
The only problem with this latest focus of hers was that it tired her out like crazy.  And, since she could never get her dorm-mates to quiet down before nine or ten at night, she’d taken to curling up against his side for a quick nap in the noise of the common room.  She never slept very well when she did that, because of the noise, but at least she could sleep.
Until, in theory, he’d discovered, practiced, and perfected a spell from the library last night.  He flattened his magic as much as he could, then gave his wand a little flick, and barely whispered the incantation.
Success.  Exactly as he had intended, the noise of the common room deadened right out to a low murmur inside of a cylinder of space around their seat.
Hermione blinked, not having fallen asleep yet, and looked up at him.  “What-?  Did you-?”
He smiled back down at her.  “I thought you might like some quiet during your nap.”
“Oh,” she muttered, and smiled.  “Thanks.  What’s it called?”
“It’s Serena Tranqui’s Transient Silence- I got it from her autobiography.  I can show you when you’re done napping, if you’d like.”
She snuggled into his side, closing her eyes again.  “I would like.”
Within minutes, she was sound asleep.
He knew they would be teased about looking like a couple again; that happened every time she napped like that.  But, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t care.  They were just friends- and just like all…  He glanced at Hermione’s notebook, lying open on the table.  Just like all six thousand two hundred thirty-seven people that had said hi to him with the express purpose of making friends with the Boy who Lived during the first month and a half of his time at Hogwarts, the ones dead-set on matchmaking could also take a hike.  They were simply friends.  The fact that they were also each other’s first friends was unimportant.
He smiled, thinking back to Serena Tranqui’s autobiography.  He hadn’t been the one to find that book in the library; no, that had actually been one of the Ravenclaw Defense Against the Dark Arts instructors.  Serena Tranqui was an ex-auror, who often had the element of surprise on independent assignments.  The Ravenclaw had been looking in the index to find the spells she thought would be most useful in combat, but Harry had read through the main text- and not only found the Transient Silence, but also pointed out Serena’s combat uses for it.  As it turned out, the silence charm also functioned as a low-level shield, had a selective silence function that could be controlled subconsciously by the caster so as not to block incantations, and could emit a high, staticky noise, suitable for raising the level of silence- all aside from how it would last for as long as he wanted it to.
The Ravenclaw had classed the spell as “too complicated” for their first-year students, but agreed that it would likely be a good candidate in their second or third years.  He, however, had mastered it in five minutes…  and was using it in place of a simple Cone of Silence, a lesser charm that not only didn’t last very long, but that he had trouble with as well.

Perhaps he was too gifted with Defense Against the Dark Arts?
> Chapter 28
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Lemon drop.”
Professor McGonagall sighed internally as she stepped onto the rotating staircase to Dumbledore’s office.  She’d gotten up this morning to find that ten points had been awarded, in two different awards of five each, to a student named ‘Silversong’ during the night...  and while the Castle was able to figure out who that was, the awards had bounced- and come to her- because it couldn’t figure out which house it was supposed to award them to.
When she then asked the magic of the castle which house Silversong was sorted into, it claimed the student- it sounded to her like a female name, but it also sounded Equestrian, and she could never tell with those- was unsorted.
So she’d spent much of her day- when not teaching classes of fourth or seventh years, of course- running down the full class roster, searching for the name.
She hadn’t found it.  Silversong had never been sorted, never officially admitted to the school.
Yet, when she queried the Castle spellwork, Silversong had been attending classes since term started, had a class schedule…  and, perhaps most importantly, grades.  Good grades, at that- she seemed to be suffering on the practical side, suggesting she was a Raeth…  but she was performing well with everything else, almost as if she was a Ravenclaw.  That the girl was able to do that well without having a regular place to sleep- it seemed she was sleeping on the floor or something- was a promise of such talent that Hogwarts could not afford to squabble it away.  The girl was too good to be allowed to fail by virtue of not being sorted.
Unfortunately, there was only one way to fix that.  And, this time around, she wasn’t the Headmaster.
So, she needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore…  in person, because the Ward network was too far removed from reality.  It was too easy to miss things like importance.
She did tap into the Ward network anyways, as she approached Dumbledore’s office door.  The Castle’s Marauder’s Map function- which she had named after the student-made item that used it the most- informed her he was in his office.  “Dumbledore,” she sent him.  “We need to talk.”
Dumbledore sighed.  “Come in.”  It wasn’t the first time she’d done that, by a long shot.
She pushed the door open, and let herself in.
“So,” Dumbledore began.  “What is it this time?”
“Silversong,” she answered simply.
“Silversong?” Dumbledore asked, surprised.  “She was mighty helpful this morning.  Did something happen?”
“She received points,” she nodded.
“And…?” Dumbledore began, confused.  “She’s in Slytherin, is she not?”
“She’s unsorted.”
Dumbledore froze.  “...  Unsorted?  She was mighty helpful in the aftermath of the brawl in the Slytherin common room this morning.  That’s why I…  gave her…  points.”  He took a deep breath.  “You mean we missed her?”
She nodded.  “That’s what it looks like…  but according to the Castle, she hasn’t just been floating.  She’s got grades- and good grades, at that.  Even though she doesn’t have a bed, or anywhere to store her trunk.”  She sighed.  “If she even has one.  The Castle wasn’t able to find it.”
Dumbledore winced.  “And everything else checks out?”
She nodded again.  “She’s in the Book, and is recorded as having accepted her position.  It would seem she missed a few classes a few weeks back, but that was all covered by a medical excuse.”
Dumbledore put his head in his hands.  “Could it be that she got lost on the first day, and ended up sitting with the Slytherins?”
She shook her head.  “She wouldn’t have had a schedule if she did that.  When they made the schedules, Princess Twilight’s teams worked off of the lists of students sorted to each house.  It shouldn’t have been possible for her to have been missed in the sorting and still gotten a schedule, but…”  She shrugged.  “I looked at her schedule- and it looks like it was designed as if she were a Slytherin.”
“But she’s unsorted,” Dumbledore muttered.
She nodded.
He sighed.  “How…  How is she performing?”
“At this rate?” Professor McGonagall shrugged.  “She’s showing difficulty with her wand- suggests she might be a Raeth- but she’s just shy of the Honor Roll.”
Dumbledore blinked.  “We’re going to have to hold a Late Sorting Ceremony, won’t we?”  He sighed, putting his head in his hands.  “I can’t even remember when we last had one of those.”
“Not surprised,” one of the pictures hanging on the wall stated simply.  “It was three hundred and sixty-two years ago.”
Dumbledore looked up.  “...  Right.  Well.  At least it’s not completely unprecedented, is it?”  He grinned at the picture.  “So, first off…  I’m going to need to summon her in here, aren’t I?  To explain what’s going on, and get her temporary bedding overnight?”
“Yep, that’s what I recall,” the picture nodded.
“Alright then,” Dumbledore sighed, reaching for a fresh piece of parchment.





“D-Silversong?” Diamond asked, sounding surprised, as she entered the common room.
Draco, sprawled out across one of the couches in his female form, looked up at her.  “Hi.”
“I- I thought-?”
He shrugged.  “Does Draco ever do something like this?”
Diamond blinked.  “Now that I think of it…  No, I don’t think he does.  Is that why…?”
He nodded.  “Well, that and Crabbe and Goyle won’t follow me around, since they can’t find Draco.”
Diamond wrinkled her nose at the names.  “Yeah, that’d be a huge plus, wouldn’t it?”
“Yep,” he stated.  “Only way I could think of to lose them for more than five minutes on a weekend.”
“Even though you’re then going to be…?” Diamond gestured towards him.  “For basically all day?”
He nodded.  “Yeah…  I’ll make do.”
“And you’re going to need to change your clothes at some point, too.”
He blushed, and looked away from her for a few seconds.  Then he looked back at her.  “Gee, thanks for reminding me,” he complained.  “But yeah.  Small price.”  He shrugged.  “I’ve even got my wand this time- not that I’ve been able to ‘stabilize’ my magic enough to use it, but who’s counting?”
“...  Okay.”  Diamond picked a chair that faced his couch.  “That actually makes me wonder:  Do you know what your unique talent is?”
He raised an eyebrow.  “My…?”
“Unique talent,” Diamond repeated.  “That’s what we call it here.  You might remember me telling Flexible what mine is?”
He blinked.  “Something about being bossy?”
Diamond snorted.  “Right, yeah, I guess.  Technically, my talent is simply leadership- but it comes out in that I have a very easy time getting people to do what I want them to.  Any ideas what yours might be?”
He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I mean…  During the first week, my classes were all fairly easy, then…”  He gestured down at himself.  “Lyra did her thing.  Ever since then, I haven’t been able to use my wand…  but everything else has become a cake walk.”
Diamond’s eyebrows shot up.  “A cake walk?  Like…”  She scowled.  “Have you, perchance, had any difficulty with anything you tried to do after Lyra’s Papa Tango finished?”
“Uh, yeah?  My wand doesn’t work.”
She winced.  “Aside from that.”
He rolled his eyes…  then paused to think.  “...No,” he eventually muttered.  “I don’t think I have.”  He scowled.  “Well, unless you count ditching Crabbe and Goyle.”  A sound like a gong echoed suddenly from upstairs.  “Speaking of which, it would seem they’re awake.”  He looked up in time to see Crabbe slide back down the girl’s staircase, now a slide.  He’d gotten up extra early explicitly so he could have the common room to himself, even if for just a few minutes…  and had taken that chance to transform.
After, of course, making sure he had it to himself.
Diamond rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, of course they are.  But anyways, doesn’t that kinda suggest something with the magic?”
He blinked.  “You mean, you think my…  ‘talent’ might be to be good at everything?”
Diamond shrugged.  “I mean, it could be.  If so, that’s a very powerful talent to have.”
“Then why would I still have trouble doing the magic thing…?”
“Just because you’re automatically good at it doesn’t mean you know how to do it,” Diamond smiled.
He blinked.  “Yeah, I suppose.  I’ll just have to ask Hermione for more instruction sometime…”  He scowled.  “Which Draco would never do.”
She wrinkled her nose.  “Yeah, unless he doesn’t mind losing a little face, he never would do that, would he?”  Then she shrugged.  “But you would do that no problemo, right?”
He winced.  “Yeah…  but then she’d know.”
She grinned.  “She’s a student instructor,” she said.  “She’s already sworn to keep her students’ secrets, except in as much as they endanger the castle.”
He raised an eyebrow.  “Really?”
She nodded.  “Yep!  I’m a student instructor myself- Potions.  And that oath is one of the first things they required us to do in the Student Instructor Crash Course at the beginning of the year.  So don’t worry, she won’t be telling anyone.”  She shrugged.  “And if you ask her to, I’m sure she’ll even keep it from her co-instructor, Bonbon.”
“You haven’t told-?” he asked, blinking.
“Nope,” she answered.  “It’s our secret right now.  I mean, I can tell her if you want me to, but…”
“No, no, I’m good,” he said hurriedly.  “I just…  thought you would have.”
Diamond gasped theatrically.  “And betrayed your trust?  How could I?”





Later, at breakfast, something happened.
Draco had been expecting to spend the day as Silversong, then find some empty room or passage in which to retake his form as Draco shortly before bed time.
Until, of course, he got the letter.  An owl floated down to him at breakfast…  and hooted at him.
“What-?” he began.
Diamond leaned in to whisper in his ear.  “Yes, we can understand them.  Roll with it.”
He took a deep breath, and let it out again.  The owl had only called his name- his female name, Silversong.  It hooted again.
“Hoo.”  There you are, Silversong.  Where have you been?
“Ahh,” he muttered, rubbing one hand on his hair.
“Hoo.”  No matter.  It took two weeks, but I found you.  Got a message from the Headmaster…  I think it’s important.  The owl offered the letter in its beak to him.
“Ahh…  Thank you.”  He accepted the letter, and started unfolding it.
“Hoo.”  You’re welcome.  It might be a good idea to send him an answer?
“Just a sec…” Draco muttered, scanning the missive.


Dear Silversong,
Please come to my office at your earliest opportunity.  Any of the school professors will be able to guide you.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Hogwarts Headmaster


He let out a sigh.  “Well…  Yeah, I’d say.  And if this was two weeks ago…”  He scowled, then turned.  “Diamond, do you have a quill I could borrow?”  Then he blinked.  “Unless…”  He looked at the owl.
“Hoo.”  No, he cannot understand me.
“Dang,” he muttered.
Diamond slipped a small quill out of her pocket…  No, it wasn’t a quill.  It was a strange, plastic cylinder, and it had a button on one end.  “What’s it say?” she asked.
“Dumbledore wants me to visit him in his office…  two weeks ago.”  He shrugged.  “After the match today ought to be a decent time.  Unless…?”  He looked at the owl.
It shook its head.  “Hoo.”  Unlike you, he’s easy to find.  Sixty seconds, tops.  It then gestured towards the staff table, where Professor Dumbledore was eating his morning meal.
Draco chuckled, turning back to Diamond.  “So…”
She held up the plastic thing.  “It’s called a ‘pen’,” she informed him.  “Muggle alternative to a quill.  It doesn’t need to be dipped in ink- instead, when you want to use it, you click the button to make the tip appear…  and when you’re done, click it again to protect the tip.”  She demonstrated, showing the tip while she clicked the button a couple times.
“Oh… kay,” he muttered, accepting it, and clicked the button slowly.  “That’s…  strange.”
“Just beware when you write with it- it’s a specific type of pen called a ‘ballpoint pen’, meaning there won’t be any of the scratch you’d get from a quill.  It’ll slide much more smoothly over the page.”
“Alright,” he muttered, and put the ‘pen’ to the page.  Diamond was right, it did write a lot easier than a quill did.


Understood.  I’ll be up shortly after the match today.


He clicked the pen, and gave it back to Diamond, who pocketed it.  “That is…  strange.  But I like it.”  He grinned, glancing at the neat lines it had made on the parchment, before he refolded the letter and offered it back to the owl.  “Alright, thank you.  Want a snack while you’re here?”
The owl almost seemed to grin.  “Hoo.”  No, but thank you.  Dumbledore isn’t a very patient man, these days.  It took the letter, and took to the air again, heading straight for the staff table.
“Uh-oh,” Diamond muttered.
He nodded.  “Uh-oh indeed.”
> Chapter 29
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco couldn’t stop thinking about what that owl had said until he was climbing his way into the Quidditch stadium shortly after breakfast, still in female form.  Diamond didn’t have anywhere in particular she wanted to sit, or anyone to sit near, aside from him, so she ended up following him.
He scanned the crowd as he climbed the stands…  and something caught his eye.
He looked closer, scanned that part of the crowd…  and finally spotted it.
There was Hermione Granger, sitting alone near the top of the stands.
“There,” he muttered, and started off, Diamond following close behind.
Finally, he paused, near Hermione.  “Is this seat free?” he asked, indicating the seat next to her.
Hermione glanced up at him.  “Mm?  Uh…  Depends.  Who are you?”
He blinked.  “Uh…  I’m Silversong.”  He turned sideways so she could see Diamond, and gestured to her.  “This is Diamond Tiara.”
Hermione nodded slowly.  “Alright.  And why are you here?”
He blinked.  “I…  I saw you up here, and…”
Her eyes narrowed.  “You just want to get close to Harry, don’t you?”
He blinked, and quickly decided to feign ignorance.  “Harry who?”
She stopped.  “Harry…  who?  You don’t know who Harry is?”
He shrugged.  “Maybe?  Is…  Is he famous or something?  Like whats-his-name Potter?”
Hermione facepalmed.  “Something like that, yeah.”
“...  Oh.  Um, I just saw you up here, all alone…  and thought I’d say hi.  You’re about the only person I’m familiar with that I know is friendly.”
Hermione tilted her head.  “That you’re familiar with?”
He nodded.  “Yeah?”
Her eyes narrowed.  “And why am I not familiar with you in turn?”
He blinked.  “...  Oops.  Um…  I’ll explain later, in…”  He glanced around.
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
He was starting to feel very, very small.  “O-Or you could do your…  scanning thing, with your wand…”
Her other eyebrow went up next.  “Really?” she asked.
He nodded.
She sighed, drawing her wand.  He’d only half-expected her to have it on her.  “Alright then.”  She started her incantations.  “Wand arm?”
He blinked.  She always went for the back of his neck in class.  Then he took a deep breath, and extended his right arm towards her.
She touched the middle of her wand to the back of his wrist.
He felt her prod against his magic, as usual.  It was slightly different, but mostly the same.
“...  Huh, that looks almost familiar,” she muttered.
“As it should,” he answered.  “You’ve been helping me with it these last few weeks.”
Hermione drew her wand back suddenly, staring at him.  Her spells cut off in an instant.  “Wait.  You’re not…?”
He nodded.  “I am.  Appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.”
She tilted her head slightly, thinking, then smiled.  “Alright then, go ahead, take a seat.  Did something…?”
He shook his head.  “No, it’s…  Lyra’s thing, ended up letting me do this at will.”
“So you chose to…?”
He nodded.
“Tired of being a…”  She shrugged.  “Noble, for lack of a better word?”
He nodded again.  “Much easier to ditch the idiots when they can’t find me in the first place.”
“The idiots…?”
“Crabbe and Goyle.”
Her nose wrinkled.  “Oh.”
“Well, the match is starting,” Draco muttered, looking out into the field, where the teams were walking out of the dressing rooms.  “I assume you’re rooting for Gryffindor?”
Hermione nodded.  “And you Slytherin?”
He shrugged.  “I’m actually a bit indifferent.  Yeah, it’s my house and all, but the Slytherin team is a bunch of dorks.”
Hermione let out a snort of laughter.
“They should let some Aethrs on the team,” Diamond mused.  “As I recall, according to your study a month or so ago, those are naturals on brooms.”
Hermione shrugged.  “Gryffindor seems to get along pretty well with non-Aethr players,” she mused.  “I mean…  the Weasley Twins are Raeths, and Harry’s an Etrah.”
“And everyone else?”
“Wood and the Chasers are all Aethrs.”
“Ahh.  How about the Slytherin team?”
She shook her head.  “I don’t think any of them participated in my study.”  She scowled.
Diamond shrugged.  “Lyra said she noticed that even British Aethrs tended to be the slender ones, with Etrahs the heavy-set or muscular ones.”
“Really?”
She nodded.  “Yep.  The same propensities as are common across Equestrians, actually- she noticed, during your study I think it was, that those tendencies seemed to carry through to the British as well.”
“And she didn’t mention it?”
“She said she noticed it in her memory of your study a few days ago.”
“In her memory…?”
She blinked.  “Uh, in case you didn’t know, Lyra has photographic memory- she’s practically incapable of forgetting.”
Hermione scowled.  “Cheater.”
She shook her head.  “She hates it most of the time.”
“Funny how the Slytherin team is all heavily muscled, isn’t it?” Draco asked, in an effort to break the budding argument.
“And how Harry is a natural on a broom, yet also an Etrah,” Hermione continued.





There it was.
Professor Snape sighed, lifting his wand- he’d already drawn it in anticipation- to point it at the boy.
Someone, he suspected Professor Quirrell, was trying to jinx the broom Harry was riding, to get him to fall to his death.
He started his counterspell…  then winced as the feedback came back.  The attacker was going for brute force…  and using more power than he had to counter with.  So, he took a route with more finesse.
Fortunately, since the attack was focused mostly on Harry and the interface between him and his broom, it was fairly easy for Snape to secure himself access to the broom’s controls.  The attacker would relinquish control of the broom the moment Harry fully separated from it…  at which point Snape planned to step in to put the thing under the boy again.  By doing that, he could keep Harry alive long enough for the attacker to be ousted.
“Someone’s attacking Potter’s broom,” he announced, through the wards.
Once he secured his ability to put the broom back under the boy after he fell off of it, Snape moved on to fight the attacker directly- trying to repair the normal linkage between broom and rider.  He couldn’t try to counterattack the attacker without jeopardizing the boy’s life, so that would have to do.
He listened, over the wards, to the other Heads of House working to inconspicuously locate the culprit.
“What is going on?” Dumbledore asked.  He wasn’t watching the match today; he had far too much paperwork to finish…  and of course, he had finally gotten a response from Silversong, who had promised to visit him after the match.
“They’re trying to get Harry off his broom,” Snape answered.  He knew his ward-voice, such as it was, came across snarled- but that kinda happened, when he was so focused on the fight.  “I’ve got the broom, though.  I can guarantee he won’t fall to his death, but he might fall a few times, and get hurt.”
Then, Dumbledore joined the search…  using heavily-enchanted binoculars from his office window, which happened to face the Quidditch pitch.  He also started calling off sectors of the pitch as clear.
This went on for a minute or so, during which all the players- and everyone across the stadium- seemed to realize that Harry was in trouble.
Then, there was a sudden wash of greenish energy arcing around the stands, a cry of alarm echoing around the same, and the attack dropped off instantly.
“What was that?” Dumbledore asked.
“It…  It seems a number of spectators have been partially transfigured,” McGonagall mused.  “Hmm…  The Heads of House seem to have been immune- probably the Wards- but everyone else was fair game…  oh, about a quarter of them, now have goat legs and hooves.”
Snape finished restabilizing Potter’s connection with his broom, lowered his wand, and looked around.
He noticed, in the corner of his eye, that Professor Quirrell was struggling with the hooves sticking out the bottom of his robes.
Yeah, that would tend to distract just about anyone from an ongoing spell.





Up in the stands, across from where Professor Snape was sitting, Silversong meekly put her wand away.  “S-Sorry.”
Hermione, who had just started running off to stop Snape, managed to stand up on her…  hooves.  “What in the world-!?”
Diamond, still seated next to Silver, also stuck out a goat leg.  “...  Interesting.”
Silver looked up with the binoculars Hermione had dumped on her.  “Wait, Harry’s recovered.”
Hermione blinked.  “Snape must have been-!”
“No, Snape’s unaffected.”  She’d turned the binoculars down to where Snape was.  “He’s putting his wand away, though.”
Hermione stumbled her way back to her seat, leaning on the backs of the rows in front, and sat back down.  “What were you thinking?”
Silver flinched.  “I- I calmed my magic as much as I could, and tried to cast a shield charm around Harry.  It…”  She looked down, towards what looked to be about a half of the school in a panic, the other half with either their heads in their hands or their binoculars pointed high.
“Failed,” Hermione stated.  “Spectacularly.”
“I…  I noticed.”
There was a gentle clopping noise, a small scream, and an ‘oof’.  They looked; it was Lyra, struggling with goat legs.  “I-!” she began, scrambling back upright.  “There you are, Diamond!”
“Yes, mom?” Diamond asked.
“I-!” Lyra began.  “Any idea what this is?”  She gestured towards her legs.
Hermione scowled.  “Silversong here just accidentally turned half the school into satyrs.”
Lyra blinked.  “...  About a quarter, actually.  And, it doesn’t look like we can cure it, but-!”
“WHAT?” Hermione screamed.
“Calmly, Hermione!  As I was saying, it should wear off in three days!”  She took a deep breath, and turned to Silver.  “Oh, and Silversong?  Nice job.”  She grinned, gave her a thumbs up, and turned to run back the way she had come…  before promptly falling on her face.
Silver winced, hands resting on her still-human knees.
Lyra groaned as she scrambled back upright.  “Ugh…  At least we got some of our youthful indestructibility back on this side,” she mumbled, and resumed running.
“So,” Silver began, and looked at Hermione.  “What’s a satyr?”
Hermione’s jaw dropped faster than Harry had just dived…  just in time for the announcement that Gryffindor had won.





“What in the world…?” Harry asked.
Hermione had, as promised, come to meet him right out of the changing rooms…  though she had hooves instead of feet, and was leaning on the shoulder of a strange, red-faced, silver-haired girl to stay upright.  The girl on the silver-haired girl’s other side, also with hooves, had curly white-and-purple-striped hair.
And the silver-haired girl didn’t seem to have hooves.
“Hey Harry,” Hermione began.  “Don’t mind the hooves…  Silversong here just accidentally turned a quarter of the school into satyrs.”
The silver-haired girl turned away, her face growing redder.  “I- I was trying to cast a shield,” she stuttered.  “You know, to block whoever was cursing your broom.”
“I mean, it worked,” the white-and-purple girl grinned.  “Albeit not quite in the way you were imagining.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Silversong muttered.  “But, um…  could you, perchance, help them…?”
“Stand?” Harry helpfully supplied.
Silver nodded meekly.  “Dumbledore wants to see me.”
He shrugged.  “I don’t see why not.”  He promptly slipped himself under Hermione’s other arm, before looking at the other girl.  “And you, miss…?”
“Diamond Tiara,” she said.  “And I’m a Slytherin, if…?”
Harry shrugged- then helped restabilize Hermione.  “Doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Alright.”  Diamond shifted carefully and, when she finished, looked at Silver.  “Alright then, Silver.  Go see if you can find Snape or something, and we can meet back up…  what, at dinner?  Or in the common room?”
Silver shrugged.  “Wherever.  Well…  I…  I’m sorry, but…”  She grinned sheepishly, and ran off.
Harry looked at Hermione.  “Is she…?”
Hermione shook her head.  “Couldn’t be further from it.  She’s from one of those high-born families, sure, but she hates it- wants the quiet life, not unlike…  um, maybe mine, had I never met you?”
Harry grinned.  “Or mine, had I never been famous.”
Diamond chipped in.  “Or hers, had she not been of so high of birth.”
> Chapter 30
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silversong was nervous, while she rode a moving spiral staircase up to what was presumably Dumbledore’s office.
Sometime during the Quidditch match, though she wasn’t sure exactly when, she’d managed to start thinking of herself as a herself, while in form as Silversong, at least.  Before the match, she’d figured that playing the part she’d picked for her female form became a lot easier when she became the part.  After the match, she knew she had been completely correct…  and had found Snape rather quickly.
So, worried that she’ll mess up in front of Dumbledore but fairly confident it won’t be because she forgot she wasn’t Draco, she followed Snape this far.
They reached the top of the stairs.
She took a deep breath as Snape reached out to open the door.  This was it- where she would meet Dumbledore.
Snape opened the door…  and there was no one there.
Snape paused, looking around the room for a few seconds, before he sighed.  “We will wait here,” he stated, sounding tired.  “The Headmaster is…  on his way.”
So, she stood, in the middle of the room, and waited.
There was a large bird, sitting on a perch in the corner of the room.  It had red and gold plumage.
The bird spoke.  It was just an amused trill, but he understood it anyways- much like the owl at breakfast.  And now we’re all waiting for him.  He really does like making people wait for him, doesn’t he?
“I guess,” she muttered.
The bird tilted its head, and chirped inquisitively.  You can understand me?
She nodded.  “I think so.  I’m pretty sure all the Equestrians can.”
Perhaps I should ask Dumbledore to go become an Equestrian.  It laughed.  As if.
She chuckled with it.  “Actually…  that is possible, with some of Lyra’s spells.”
It is?  Whatever.  What’re you here for?
“I- I don’t know,” she answered.  “He just…  summoned me.”  She looked at the floor.  “Two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks ago?” Snape asked suddenly, making her jump; she’d forgotten he was there.
“Uhh- yeah,” she muttered.  “According to the owl, at least.  It couldn’t find me until this morning, for some reason.”
Then the door opened.
Silver turned.
Dumbledore entered the office.
“Ahh, Silversong,” he began, walking around to his desk.  “About time.”  He sat down.
“You might like to know,” Snape muttered, noticing Silver’s wince.  “The owl apparently couldn’t find her until this morning.”
Dumbledore froze.  “Pardon?”
Silver nodded.  “It told me,” she said.  “It couldn’t find me until today.”
The bird in the corner trilled softly.  Was it a he or a she?
She looked back towards it.  “I didn’t ask.”
It flew over to a perch on Dumbledore’s desk.  Shame.
She winced…  then looked at Dumbledore, and winced again, barely stopping herself from taking a step back.  He was studying her.  “Um…”  She felt something poking at her, from him, but she could also feel something else- she couldn’t tell where from- blocking it.  “What…?”
Dumbledore blinked suddenly, and sighed.  “Sorry.  Now then, miss Silversong.  Do you know why you’re here?”
She blinked, and decided to succumb to the urge to make a smart-alec response.  Draco never would have, but she wasn’t Draco.  “I climbed the stairs.”  She shrugged.  “You asked me to come.”
Dumbledore sighed.  Silver recognized the twitch from restraining the urge to headdesk.  “Do you know why I called you?” he asked, sounding distinctly irritated.
She shook her head.  “I was hoping you’d tell me that.”
Dumbledore sighed.  “Any reason you can think of that I might need to talk to you?”
She shook her head again.  “Nope.”  That my name doesn’t show up on the attendance rolls, probably.
He sighed.  “You didn’t think anything was off when you never got sorted?”
She blinked.  “I could swear I was sorted into Slytherin.”
Dumbledore scowled.  “Really…?  With the Sorting Hat and everything?”
“Yeah.  I distinctly remember her saying something was unusual, when I put her on.”
Dumbledore blinked.  “Her?”
She nodded.  “Sounded like a ‘she’ to me.”
“Huh…  whatever.  Something must have…  but…”  He sighed.  “I mean, you’ve got a class schedule, and grades- the Castle magic tells us that much.  Which shouldn’t have been possible without being sorted, yet…”  He took a deep breath, and let it out.  “Whatever.  Something or another must have caused you to become un-sorted at some point.”
She blinked.  “...  Okay.  So, do we just say ‘Slytherin’ and be done with it?”
Dumbledore shook his head.  “Unfortunately, there is only one way to get you sorted- and that’s with the Sorting Hat.  Which means we’re going to have to hold a Late Sorting Ceremony at breakfast tomorrow…  and your House assignment could change.”
“How would that affect my schedule?”
He shrugged.  “You would have to ask Princess Twilight and her people.  I heard they optimized class schedules at some point, based on individual qualities, so it might not change at all.  In any case, you can be certain that we’ll make sure you’re aware of any changes before classes start on Monday.”
“And…  you said at breakfast tomorrow.  Wasn’t the original Sorting Ceremony at dinner?”
Dumbledore nodded.  “Yes.  The main Sorting Ceremony is only at dinner because that’s when the students reach the castle, and you have to be sorted to have an assigned bed.”  He sighed.  “Speaking of which, where have you been sleeping?”
“In the Slytherin dormitories,” she supplied.  “I…  wasn’t aware anything was wrong.”
Dumbledore sighed.  “Very well.  Go ahead and sleep there tonight, then we’ll make sure you have a permanent place to sleep tomorrow.”  He waved her off.  “You may go.”
She bowed, and left the room.  Snape went with her, as far as the gargoyle at the bottom, where he parted ways once the door had closed.
She glanced back once she made it around the corner.
So, her name- Silversong- showed up on the attendance roll…  but hadn’t been sorted?
How did that work?





She found Harry, Hermione, and Diamond in the castle courtyard.  The latter two were practicing standing on their hooves, while Harry watched them amusedly.
“Hi,” she greeted, walking over.
Hermione looked up, waved- and promptly fell over.
Diamond looked up, and smiled.  “There you-Aaah!”  She’d tried to take a step, tripped, and fallen as well.
“S-Sorry,” Silver muttered.
“Not your fault,” Diamond grumbled, scrambling back to her hooves and carefully lifting herself back into a standing position.
Hermione grunted her agreement, also getting back up again, though not nearly as fast.
“Hello again,” Harry greeted.  “How’d the visit with Dumbledore go?”
“About as well as it could have,” she grumbled, sitting down next to him.  “I was apparently un-sorted at some point, so I’ll have to get re-sorted tomorrow morning.”  She sighed.  “It’s going to be a pain.”
Hermione nodded.  “Yeah, that would be a pain.”
“Look at the bright side,” Diamond muttered.  “You won’t be stuck with Slytherin anymore.  You can go where you will.”
She closed her eyes, looking away.  “But what would my father say?”
Diamond scoffed at that.  “Really, Silver?  Is that something that you would ask, or something he would ask?”
She winced.  “I…  He would, certainly.  But, can I afford to not ask it?  He’ll still be writing me letters regularly, and if he hears I got moved to another house-!”
Diamond cut her off.  “Then don’t tell him.  This is your life, Silver- not his, and not your father’s.  Your life.”
Harry tilted his head.  “Who is ‘he’?”
“Um,” Diamond muttered, looking at Silver.
Silver blinked, looking at Hermione.  “Uhh…”
Harry looked at Hermione.
“Not mine to tell,” Hermione declared.
Harry scowled.
“I mean,” Silver muttered.  “If he can keep the secret, I don’t see a problem.”  She looked around.  “Oy!  Crabbe!  Goyle!  Where’s Draco?”
The two boys, who happened to be the only two other students in earshot, looked around, and scrambled off towards the castle.
Hermione blinked.  “What…?”
“They’ll be trying to climb the stairs to the girl’s dorms,” Silver answered.  “Gets them out of earshot.”
Harry blinked.  “Why the girl’s dorms?”
“Because they’re too stupid to figure out which one a boy can actually enter.  Anyways.”
Hermione stumbled over, and sat next to Harry.  “So…  you want me to tell him?” Hermione asked.
Silver shrugged.  “So long as he can keep the secret, why not?”
Diamond fell down again, and sat up where she fell.  “Well, he’s a student instructor as well, so I daresay he can.”
She blinked.  “You are?  Which subject?”
“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Harry answered.  “Anyways…?”  He looked between Silver and Hermione.
“Well…  She gave her permission, so…”  Hermione shrugged.  “Remember how I said she’s from a high-born family?”
Harry nodded.
“Well…  that’s both true, and not true.  Thing is, she’s actually a British student- specifically, the one Lyra tested her ‘Papa Tango’ on.”
Harry blinked.  “What’s that?”
“Uh…  something with which she hoped to make a British witch or wizard capable of Equestrian magic, and passing through the Gate into Equestria, if I remember right.  Anyways, one of its side effects gave her the ability to transform into Silversong, the girl you see, at will.”  She looked up at Silver.  “Probably through your Animagus magic, I want to guess.”
She shrugged.  “That’s what I think too.”
Hermione nodded.  “Anyways, her original identity, the one she despises…  was from a high-born family, and would be what they’re referring to as ‘him’.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose.  “You mean she was originally a boy?”
Silver nodded.
“Said original identity…”  Hermione looked over at Silver, who smiled, and nodded again.  She took a deep breath.  “Is Draco Malfoy.”
“Lucius- my father- likes to control everything I do.  I think he’s trying to set me up to be a successful noble prick, but I don’t want it.”
“You know,” Hermione muttered.  “Considering how thorough your transformation is, I’d wager to guess he isn’t Silversong’s parent at all.”
Silver looked at her.  “Really?”
Hermione nodded.  “I’d have to go through Madam Pomfrey to be sure, but…”  She shrugged.  “I mean, a wizard’s animagus form is almost never biologically related, in any way, to their human form.”
“So…  Little problem.  Technically, he is my animagus form, and this is my natural form.”  She gestured down at herself.
She shrugged.  “Well, you don’t look in any way related to him, so I’d wager to guess it’s something similar.  Again, I’d have to ask Madam Pomfrey to be sure.”
“If…” Harry began.  “If you’re worried about problems with the sorting…  Try asking the Hat.  She would have put me in Slytherin, had I not asked for Gryffindor.”
Hermione blinked.  “Why did you ask…?”
He looked at her.  “Because that’s where you were, and I valued our existing friendship way more than the possibility of more.  Still do, as a matter of fact.”
Hermione blushed, and looked away.  “Oh please, Harry.  Don’t worry about me.”
“Why not?”
She turned to face him again.  “Because…”  She paused, scowling.
Silver grinned.  “Because he cares about you, of course.”
“Oh come on!” Hermione complained, blushing redder than before and turning away again.
“What?” Harry asked, tapping Hermione’s shoulder with one hand.  “Am I not allowed to care about my friends?”
“You know,” Diamond mused.  “You three would make a great herd.”
“A what?” Silver asked.
Diamond blushed.  “Er…  Appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.  That usage of the word is still an Equestrian National Secret.”  She took a deep breath.  “It’s…  an Equestrian term for a marriage involving more than two parties.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.  “And did you really need to say that?  We already get enough people saying we’d make a great couple.”
Diamond shrugged.  “I guess.  And if it’s real, Silver ought to feel it- there’s a reason divorce is almost unheard of in Equestria, and it’s because we really feel it when we encounter the one- or ones- we’re destined to marry.  Given how new Silver is to her Equestrian magic, and how young that same magic is, I wouldn’t be surprised if that part isn’t active yet, or if she just hasn’t noticed it.”  Then she tilted her head.  “Well, and how young she is.  It wakes in most Equestrians at around twelve years of age.”
“Would us not being Equestrians interfere with it?” Hermione asked.
“No idea.  I want to say probably not, but it could.  You almost certainly wouldn’t feel the bond the way she would, but…”  She shrugged.  “Who knows?”
> Chapter 31
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco’s first thought, upon waking up, was that it wasn’t his bed.
Then he remembered.
He wasn’t Draco.
He was Silversong.
And she was sleeping in one of the four spare beds in Diamond’s room.
She took a deep breath, and let it out.  She could do this.  It wasn’t like Diamond walked around naked in here; the girl had pajamas.
…  Unlike herself.  She’d ended up sleeping in her daytime shirt and skirt, which she would need to change in the morning anyways.  At least she’d discovered sometime yesterday- she actually didn’t remember when, but that suited her- how girls used the bathroom.
Truth be told, it wasn’t all that different from how boys used the bathroom.  She wasn’t sure what she’d been so afraid of.
She stuck her hands down under the covers, to make sure her skirt was covering the stuff it should be covering, before she sat up to look around.  She was…  as she remembered, she’d drawn the curtains around her bed.  She pushed them aside, on the side facing away from Diamond’s bed, and looked at the clothes waiting for her, neatly stacked on the nightstand.
She took a deep breath, and got dressed.
Strangely enough, even though it was only the second time she’d ever done it, and the first time she’d done it without help, it went as easily as if she’d been doing it all her life.  She was fully dressed and robed, in all fresh clothes, in no time.
Then she blinked, glancing in the direction of Diamond’s bed, through the curtains of her own.  Diamond suspected that her talent might simply make her good at anything she tries, hadn’t she?  And if she was randomly really good at getting dressed in girl’s clothes, despite only barely having a clue how to do it, that was a pretty big hint to the positive, wasn’t it?
She let out a gasp as a deep blue…  aura seemed to materialize around her, and she found herself lifted into the air.
Then it disappeared, and she dropped back to the floor.
She looked around, breathing heavily, and sat down on her bed to calm herself down.
She was sure it was nothing, just some Raeth somewhere trying to get dressed and levitating the wrong thing.  She was sure that was what had happened…  probably.
Once she finished calming herself down, she went to use the bathroom, then headed for the common room to wait.





Conversation, Silversong knew, was wild in the Great Hall that morning, just like it had been the night before.  Students were torn between complaining about their temporary transformation into satyrs, and wondering about the Late Sorting that Dumbledore had promised at dinner.
And of course, she wasn’t there.
She was waiting in a room off the Entrance Hall, where Snape had shown her.  The same one she’d been shown to, along with the rest of the first years, when they arrived at the school.
Professor McGonagall pushed the door open suddenly.  “Miss Silversong?”
“Huh?” She looked up nervously.
“We’re ready.”





She could only be nervous as she accepted the Sorting Hat.
She was at the head of the Great Hall…  and the entire school was staring at her.
The Hat fell right down over her eyes when she put it on, just like it had the first time.
She shuddered.  Why did she have to do this?
The hat spoke, in her ear.  “Ahh, I thought I would be seeing you soo-  Wait a minute.  I’ve seen you before!”
As I would expect, she thought in reply.  Can we get this over with?
The hat chuckled.  “In a hurry, are we?  Well…  When I first saw the Papa Tango in Lyra’s mind, I had no clue it would change you this thoroughly.”
She shivered.  How…  What did it do?
“Well…  let me see.  You’ve got…  four forms right now, rather than the two I would have expected.  All connected by your Animagus magic…  Which, by the way, you’re not an Animagus, so you still have the option to discover your inner animal and all that, get a fifth form.
“In any case, it looks like both of your male forms- the one you can’t hold for long, and the one with the silver hair- show as one identity, Draco Malfoy, sorted into Slytherin.
“The other two forms- this one, and your pony form- are unsorted, but show as the same identity.  Meaning, if I sort you into Gryffindor now, you can go back to Slytherin at will, just by shifting into form as Draco.”
But- but how do I have grades, if I’ve never gone to class as-?
“Oh, that is easy.  That’s because Draco and Silversong might be separate identities, but you’re still the same entity- and so, assigned the same schedule and grades.  But we can work with that.  Hmm…  Shall I tell you a little story?”
Aren’t people staring at me?
“Yeah, but they’ll stare at you either way.  Point is, you’ve got a huge- and unanticipated- opportunity here, but if I just send you to Slytherin- or any other house- and be done with it, it’ll be squandered.”
…  Alright, I’ll listen.
“Well.  Way back in the day, when the Goddess enchanted the castle, she also enchanted me, to serve as the brain of the Castle.  I sat on her head for a number of years, before I became known as the Sorting Hat- but I’m still connected to the magic of the Castle.”
She scowled.  Weren’t you Godric Gryffindor’s hat?
“Why yes, yes I was first tailored for Godric Gryffindor.  But what many don’t know is that the old man was actually an ancient goddess in disguise.
“In any case, because of that linkage, I actually have powers beyond the sorting.
“For example, I can have the castle magic bridge the gap between Draco and Silversong- so, whichever one you show up to class as, the teacher won’t notice the absence of the other, nor that you’re actually the same person.  Well…  except Miss Granger, because of her methods, but I see you’ve already revealed to her.  I should even be able to help cover being caught transforming, though you’ll still want to seek privacy.  Well, except with Crabbe and Goyle.  Those two are so thick you can already transform in front of their noses, and they’ll start looking around, wondering where Draco went.”
She let out a snort of laughter.  I knew they were thick, but…  are you sure?
“Yep.  I read their minds too, remember.  They were more reliant on Draco than you knew.  Only reason I actually sorted them, instead of throwing them out for being too stupid to teach, was because they were actually able to ask for Slytherin House.  Had they not, I couldn’t have sorted them.”
…  Okay then.
“So, whaddya say to this:  I’ll sort you into Gryffindor.  I’ll have some house-elves move your spare clothes to your trunk, and use the Castle magic to make a duplicate of said trunk appear at the foot of a bed in an empty girl’s dorm, to share an interior.  I’ll keep your fellow Slytherins from realizing you’re gone, when you’re in form as Silversong- and, when in form as Draco, keep your fellow Gryffindors from realizing you’re gone.  Classes will be pretty normal, show up in whichever form you want, and nobody will notice- even the ones with no Gryffindors in them.  Nobody will notice that Draco and Silver are never in the same room together, because they have no reason to expect that they would be.”  She paused for a second.  “...  And let’s face it, Diamond was right last night.  You three would make a good herd.”
She became instantly thankful that her face was hidden from view as she felt the heat rushing to it.
“What?  I’ve predicted every pairing that came out of this place and didn’t break apart after they left.  And seriously, you’ll be happier with them.”
She shuddered.  Does…?
The hat picked the question out of her mind before she’d even formulated it.  “No, your schedule won’t change.  You’ll just gain the freedom to show up to class, meals, and bed, in whichever form you want.”  A pause.  “Hmm…  Shall I also forward mail headed for one form to the other, when you’re in the other form?”
She blinked.  What?
“Because right now, mail headed for Silversong will only reach you while you’re in form as Silversong, and vice versa for Draco.  All I’d be doing is making sure mail headed for either one could reach you, whichever form you were in.”
…  Oh.  Sure, why not?  It’ll keep my dad from worrying.
“Well, Draco’s dad.  Silversong doesn’t have parents to worry about her.  Speaking of which, you’ll probably want to tell Lucius about your transformation ability at some point, if you plan to use Silversong very much at all- from what I remember of him, I don’t doubt his helicopter-parenting is because he’s trying to protect you in the vicious, noble world he’s grown up in.  Since Silversong is outside of that world- despite still being heir to House Malfoy, I’m sure that’ll be interesting- he will probably be relieved that you’ve found a way to release your feelings.  He’ll still want to teach you how to navigate that world, don’t get me wrong, but if I’m right, he won’t feel the need to pound it into you so hard it becomes part of you.”
But-!
“Come on, Silversong.  When he sat under me a lot of years ago, he hated his lot in life as well.  Not quite as badly as you, but he still did.  He no doubt sympathizes with you on at least some level.”
She sighed.  Whatever.
“Alright then.  Whenever you go to bed as Silversong, it’ll be four one, seven two, until and unless you decide to move.  It’s an otherwise empty dormitory, right now- and yes, provided they get your consent, any Gryffindor girl- Equestrian or not- can move in with you.  GRYFFINDOR!”
She winced as the hat shouted the final word to the whole room.  Thank you.  She lifted the hat off her head, and handed her to McGonagall before walking over to the Gryffindor table, scanning her eyes down it.
The Gryffindors were cheering in a kind of strangled manner, since a quarter of them had goat legs, but she quickly spotted Hermione waving at her through the crowd, and made her way over.
She sat in the empty space next to Hermione, and let out a sigh.  “Well, that was…”
“Nerve-racking?” Hermione suggested.
She nodded.  “Yeah.  She had all kinds of things to say…  and apparently, she also has control over the magic of the Castle.”
“She?”
She nodded.  “Sounded like a ‘she’ to me.”  She leaned in to whisper in her ear.  “And did you know, Godric Gryffindor was actually an ancient goddess in disguise?”
“What-!?” Hermione squeaked.
She grinned.  “From the mouth of her hat.”
> Chapter 32
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Father,
Please come to the school.  There’s something I need to tell you.  In person.
Sincerely,
Draco.





Lucius Malfoy sighed, reading the note once again.
It had arrived fully a week prior, when he’d expected to hear about the second Quidditch match of the year, which would be between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw; the first match, two weeks before that, had been between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and had featured a near-death experience by Harry Potter, the Gryffindor seeker.
He planned to buy his son’s way onto the Slytherin team the following year, if he had to.  Draco was supposed to be Potter’s equal- even Dumbledore had agreed with that!  So what was the man doing, granting Potter exceptions like that?
…  Though, he wanted Draco and Potter to be friends, and Dumbledore wanted them to be enemies.  Neither of which had happened, judging by the letters- his son had yet to find the boy in an environment even marginally suited to friendly communication.
And he had, eventually, seen reason and agreed with his son:  Challenging and beating Potter, while it would have helped him recover face quickly after his lengthy stay in the Hospital Wing, would only have made it harder later.
Immediately upon receipt of the short note, as different from his son’s usual, longer messages, telling at least what happened during the day, he had written and sent a letter, to start the normal process for a parent to visit their student at school.  It wouldn’t do for him to use his official power, as a member of the school’s Board of Directors, to visit his son; that would fall under ‘abuse of power’, and get him thrown out very quickly.
…  Not that the Board really had any power over the place, Dumbledore made sure of that.  Lucius was dutifully paying off the Minister for Magic to keep him from noticing that and cracking down with Ministry control of the place.  That had been tried once, as Hogwarts: A History proudly stated…  and the result had been that graduating Hogwarts had, for a time, been a bad mark on a student’s record, rather than a good one.
In any case, ever since the note came in, he’d been sending letters daily, asking questions…  and every single one, his son either ignored or stonewalled all the questions, asking him to come to the castle.  And finally, just yesterday, he got word back from the school- and sent word on to his son, per when he would be arriving.
Then he sighed, rising from the breakfast table.  He had a school to travel to.
For the time had finally come.
He hoped it was important.





“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy.”  It was a first-year girl with white and purple striped hair that greeted him at the front door of the Castle, rather than the Headmaster or one of the Professors.  It made sense for the Professors to be busy- it was a weekday- but why was the Headmaster not here?
“Where is the Headmaster?” he asked.
The girl shook her head.  “He won’t be available today, Sir.  Draco asked for you to meet him in classroom C-19 today- would you like me to guide you?”
He blinked.  He could have sworn the place didn’t have that many classrooms- just A through D, and then only 1 through 9 each.  Perhaps that had something to do with the rumors that both the public and the Board were getting that Hogwarts had a massive number of students this year?  “Ahh, yes, please.”  In any case, this girl was evidently playing chauffeur and he detected no signs of deception, so at least he wouldn’t get lost.
He did notice that the route she took wasn’t exactly the straightest one she could have taken.  She took him past a very large number of individually labeled classrooms, going as high as- that one was G-27!  A number of them were in use, and a few doors were open, revealing large numbers of funny-haired students.
“As you can probably tell,” she informed him, as she walked.  “The influx of just over twelve thousand new students necessitated some major increases to the size of the castle.  I talked to some of the upper years, and they tell me the place only ever had a couple dozen classrooms in previous years.  The part I find most amusing is that there are still a ridiculous number of completely unused classrooms- they added way more than they needed to, by a factor of about ten, if I remember right.”
Finally, after passing a couple of empty classrooms, she knocked on and opened the door to classroom C-19, stepping in and to the side as she held the door for him.
There he was.  Sitting on a tall stool in the middle of the room was Draco Malfoy.  His first thought- which he suppressed, with prejudice- was that it was about time.  His second thought…  was that there were three other people in the room.  The girl that had led him in closed the door and sat in a small armchair off to the side.
The last two were seated on either side of Draco, also on tall stools.  One boy, and one girl.  Neither looked like they were Slytherins.
“Hello, Father,” Draco greeted.
He nodded his head.  It was the most he could afford to do.
“I’m…  sorry about the sudden silence,” Draco muttered, looking down.  “I made a realization during that Quidditch match last week, and I didn’t want to scare you with a partial truth…  or risk someone less savory finding out by intercepting my letters.”  He looked up again.
Lucius nodded again, this time approvingly.  Draco did seem to recognize the security problems with Owl Post, unlike so many of the other noble houses…  and basically anyone that used an ‘Owl-Order’ anything.  That didn’t explain who the other students were.
Draco seemed to know where his mind was going, though.  “Before we continue, allow me to introduce my friends.  You’ve already met Diamond Tiara.”  He gestured towards the door.  “Then, these are Hermione Granger…  and Harry Potter.”  He gestured to the last two in turn.
The final name made his eyebrows rise minutely.  So he had found Potter…  but when?
Draco visibly took a breath.  “I’ve heard that most of the world remains largely unaware of the Equestrian influx?”
He nodded.  “We’ve heard Hogwarts received a larger number of students than was anticipated, but there’s only rumors for just how large.”
Draco looked at Hermione.
“There were a total of twelve thousand, two hundred and ninety six Equestrian first-years this year, for a total attendance- across all years- of twelve thousand, five hundred and seventy six students.”
He blinked.  That was a lot of students.  How did the professors have time to teach them all?
Draco smiled at her.  “Sometimes I wonder if she should have been a Ravenclaw.”  It was a soft, genuine smile, not a forced one.  The kind that always looked the best, but almost never happened amongst the noble circles.
Hermione blushed lightly.
“Anyways,” Draco continued, looking back up at him.  “I should probably start with a little bit of backstory.  These…  Equestrians.  Twelve thousand students don’t just appear out of nowhere- instead, they hail from the land of Equestria, which was apparently magically added to Britain when one of them- Lyra Heartstrings- created a portal between our worlds in her backyard.”
“They’re-?” Lucius began, but cut himself off at Draco’s raised hand.
“Yes, they’re very different from us.  They have very different magic from us.  But for as many as there are, they’re almost alarmingly willing to learn peacefully.  Yes, there was a bit of an altercation with one of them a few weeks ago, but that’s the only fight anyone can remember, and the Equestrian leadership took swift action to keep it from happening again.
“That…  uniqueness came with a few challenges.  For example, while Equestrians can cross their Gate to our world indiscriminately, any British witch or wizard that tries to cross will be killed by it.  This is where…  You might remember the time when I was in the Hospital Wing for two weeks.”
He nodded tersely.  It was hard to forget that.
“That was actually related to that issue.  Lyra Heartstrings, the same one that opened the gate, was- and still is- working on a way for a British witch or wizard to cross their Gate into Equestria.  She got it working, and…  I was her testbed.”  He closed his eyes.  “She forgot to ask for permission.”  He opened his eyes again.  “Two weeks of pain, and I was back on my feet, albeit with funny-colored hair.  Another week of total inability to use magic, and it was done.  I…  I had no idea what I gained in that.  Pretty sure I still don’t.”  He looked up.  “Aside from the most obvious effects:  The funny hair, and a new ability to make wands malfunction.”
Lucius raised one eyebrow.
He nodded.  “I’ve almost gotten control of that one.  The hair…”  He paused, and removed his hat- and, with it, his wig.  He then shook out his gleaming silver hair, which fell all the way down to his waist in a soft wave…  which even Lucius knew it shouldn’t have done, after being done up under his hat like that.  “It’s a bit strange.  If we cut it, it regrows in a matter of hours.  At least Lyra’s spell seems to have completely nullified the Family Curse.”
Hermione blinked, looking at Draco, suddenly worried.  “What curse?”
“Family curse?” Diamond asked.  “Is that something that affects the whole family, or is it specific to a particular station?”  She spoke almost urgently.
Draco blinked.  “Um…  it’s specific to the next heir to House Malfoy.  Why…?”
Diamond let out a sigh, leaning back.  “Good.  After what Lyra’s spell did, you’re completely immune to that kind of House Curse- and will never have to worry about it again.”
“...  Good to know,” Draco nodded.
Lucius raised his eyebrow again.
“Anyways,” Draco muttered, putting his hat- and wig- right back on top of his head, completely ignoring how it clashed with his gleaming silver hair.  And the two royal blue stripes splitting it evenly into thirds.  “This is where we get to the important part, that I didn’t want to even hint at in Owl Post.  Because what Lyra’s spell did…
“The way I hear it, her spell transformed me, magically, into an Equestrian.  It wasn’t a complete transformation, as I haven’t lost any of my British abilities- Madam Pomfrey confirmed.  So, after that, I’m now a sort of hybrid between an Equestrian and a British witch or wizard, magically speaking.”
“An incredibly powerful hybrid,” Hermione muttered.
He shrugged.  “Yeah, a very powerful hybrid.  We’re not entirely sure just yet why my innate power levels blow literally everyone else out of the water.  In any case, that magical transformation ended up giving me a certain…  ability.  For example, you might notice that neither Crabbe nor Goyle are here.”
He nodded.  He’d been wondering about that.
“That’s…  Well, that’s actually because Crabbe faceplanted the floor last night, hard enough Madam Pomfrey was forced to vanish his nose to keep it from piercing his brain.  And Goyle, this morning, tried to climb the staircase into the girl’s dorms again, and actually managed to break his neck on the way down.  He survived as well, if only barely, because of Madam Pomfrey’s timely intervention, but they’re both out for the count for a couple days at least.  I heard she’s recommending they both be withdrawn from the school and admitted to St. Mungo’s as mentally retarded.”
Lucius winced.  He’d known that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle would be dumb followers, like their fathers had been for him, but he hadn’t expected them to be that bad.
“But that brings us back to that…  ability her spell gave me.  It lets me completely void the need for bodyguards…”  He trailed off…  then his entire form seemed to shift, somehow.  Moments later, he was looking at an unfamiliar girl, with that same blue-striped silver hair and this time no blonde wig attached to her hat, in Draco’s place.  “By becoming someone else entirely.”
Lucius didn’t move.  What was going on?
The girl Draco had become sighed.  “I- It’s- It’s not a free transformation ability, like a metamorphmagus has.  I’ve only got a few preset forms I can go between:  This one, silver-haired Draco, and I can also become the original blonde-haired Draco, though I’ll fall out of that form- to this one- if I’m not careful.”  She took a deep breath.  “S-Silversong.  Th-That’s what I’ve come to call this form.  And…  And thanks to some magic the Sorting Hat did after the first Quidditch match, so long as I stay on Hogwarts grounds and don’t shift in front of anyone I don’t want to know, I can take whichever form I like and nobody will realize anything’s different.
“So I…  Last week, at the match.  I…  I realized that…  I mean, Draco Malfoy is a facade, right?  Something to show the world?”  She looked up at him.
Lucius tilted his head slightly.  “I…  suppose.”
“Then the question is…  since I have this transformation ability, do I have to take Draco Malfoy home with me?  Do I have to make that facade be who I am?
“Or can I be someone different, like Silversong, and assume the facade of Draco for the world to see?”
It took him a few seconds to answer.  “I guess,” he muttered slowly.
“Then we get to that realization I made at the Quidditch match,” she stated, and looked up.  “That’s all Draco is:  A facade.  I, who might wear that facade from time to time…  am Silversong.”
He scowled.  “That…  might make it hard to get your supplies next year.”
She shrugged.  “Not really.  I just go as Draco.  And when I eventually need clothes, we split up, and I show up at Madam Malkin’s as Silversong, with no parents, a bag of gold, and probably some friends as well.  As a matter of fact, I’m told that Silversong has no biological parents, so…”
He nodded slowly.  “So as long as you’re only seen with a Malfoy as Draco, then…”
She nodded.  “Draco and Silver will already never be in the same room as each other- we’ll just have to make sure that, when Silver happens to be in the same room as any other Malfoy, it’s ‘coincidental’ and she has no relationship with them.  Except, of course, in the privacy of our home.  Or Harry’s ridiculously effective privacy charm.”
He blinked.  “Priv-?”
Harry nodded.  “It’s active right now, making sure no one can snoop in on us.”
“Ahh,” he muttered.  “I…  don’t suppose Dumbledore knows?”
All three girls, and Harry, shook their heads.
“Absolutely not,” Silversong declared.  “Family, sure.  Very, very close friends, like these two, sure.”  She put her arms around Harry’s and Hermione’s shoulders, hugging them close.  “But Dumbledore?”  She shook her head.  “It was…  almost three weeks ago, when I truly met- and befriended- Harry and Hermione.  Yes, that means I haven’t been entirely truthful in my letters, but…”  She shrugged.  “I was afraid of orders, to be honest.  Anyways.
“Shortly afterwards, they…  told me something.”  She looked up at him.  “Apparently, we were all pawns in Dumbledore’s plan to defeat Voldemort once and for all in seven years.  He…”  She took a deep breath.  “I- as Draco- was supposed to meet- and alienate- Harry on the train.  Ron Weasley was supposed to befriend him, then basically control him through his time at Hogwarts, to guide him down the path of martyrdom.
“My role in that plan- Draco’s role- was as a minor antagonist, to give Harry something to rally against.  Distract him from Ron’s manipulation, keep him from noticing it.”
Hermione nodded.  “There were a few things his plan failed to account for.  For example, the Equestrians.  The sheer number of them coming to Hogwarts threw just about everything off the rails.  Even so, he still would have been able to recover that plan- mostly, at least- if not for one other factor he hadn’t counted on:  Me.”
Lucius raised an eyebrow.  “You?”
She nodded.  “I’m sure you’re aware that Harry was raised by muggles.  Well…  I happen to be a muggleborn…  who went to the same muggle school as he did.  So, we met on the platform, and went to school as friends.  Which was the biggest upset to his plans, since Harry wasn’t supposed to have any friends, other than Ron, until sometime midwinter- where they were supposed to meet and befriend ‘a muggleborn’.”
“And before you let the pureblooded holier-than-thou mindset prejudice you, she’s the one that discovered the connection between British and Equestrian magics…  and discovered magical tribes in British witches and wizards.”  She offered him a paper that looked like a once-in-a-blue-moon intra-school publication.  “Of course, there’s a lot more to learn- but using that same technique, she’s been helping me get a handle on my new, Equestrian magic.”
“So,” he began.  “Where’s Dumbledore?”
“He’s in the Hospital Wing,” Silversong answered.  “Madam Pomfrey had Snape feed him a sleeping potion last night- he’s been overwhelmed from the moment the first Equestrian letters came in, so that’s the only way she was able to get him to take a break.  He might actually realize his plan is toast when he wakes up sometime…  what was it, day after tomorrow?”
Diamond nodded.  “He’s apparently missed a lot of sleep, and Madam Pomfrey is determined to see him fully rested before he leaves her care.  She doesn’t want him to start making dangerous, stress-induced mistakes.”





When he was on his way back home, Lucius could only agree with his son-turned-daughter.  That was something they wouldn’t want to say in owl-mail.
He smiled to himself as he thought ahead, to when he would tell Narcissa she had the daughter she had wanted from the beginning.  Would have gotten, had it been possible; he hadn’t told his son yet, but the curse didn’t completely vanish from the previous heirs…  it just switched from their hair, to making them completely infertile once the new heir was born.
He found himself wondering if Draco’s children- or Silversong’s children, depending- would be immune as well…  or not.
> Chapter 33
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, look at that.  Presents,” Harry muttered.  He certainly hadn’t been expecting this large of a pile; it was Christmas morning, but he only had two friends, and there were at least five packages.
Though, he supposed, Hagrid- the gamekeeper, who absolutely loved Silver’s willingness to help with anything- could be one of them.
That was still only three for five.
An unwelcome voice cut in suddenly.  “What were you expecting, turnips?”
Harry closed his eyes, groaned, and flopped back down on his bed.  Ron had figured out that he slept in the same room about a week before the holidays had started- he’d been sorely tempted to ask Silver and Hermione if he could sleep in their dorm, but had decided against it.  It’d only invite even more ‘threesome jokes’, as Silver had rather elegantly described them.
He almost grinned at the memory.  That had been the time when just a few too many such jokes had been uttered just a little too loudly near the girl while she was trying to study.  She’d exploded to her feet, started yelling…  and gone for her wand.
Silver had made a red-faced apology that Lyra- who had not been affected by the blast by virtue of not having teased them about it- had waved off.  “Making jokes about that is not okay in Equestria either.  And besides, it’ll wear off in a few hours.”
Harry and Hermione, however, had almost fallen over laughing at how all the ones that had teased them for being a ‘threesome’ had been suddenly stuck to each other at the hip, side-by-side, in groups of anywhere from three to fifteen.
Ron wasn’t finished talking.  “... you a Weasley sweater.”
Harry, still staring at the ceiling, ignored him, as per usual.  He put one hand out to touch his nightstand, and muttered an incantation.
He didn’t touch his wand.  He didn’t need to.  He was an Etrah.
And it was a marble countertop.
Then he sat back up again, pushed the curtains closed on Ron’s side, and hoisted all his presents up onto his bed.  He didn’t need Ron ogling them, whether he could hear him doing that or not.
Oh, and his initial estimate had been wrong.  There were six packages; the last looked like a postcard, and had been tucked between the others.  He shrugged, and opened that one first.
It was…  a note, from the Dursleys, with a fifty pence piece.
“Huh,” he muttered.
“What the-?”
Harry looked up, towards where Ron’s exclamation had penetrated his selective sound barrier, and opened a gap in the curtain to look through.
Ron was staring at a box of…
He recognized them.
“What were you expecting, turnips?” Ron had said.
Ron was staring into a large box of turnips.  The extra-large ‘FROM’ sticker on the side read ‘Discord’.
He closed the curtains and burst out laughing, secure in his knowledge that his selective barrier would keep Ron from suspecting a thing.
After a minute or so, though, he got back to unwrapping.  Before long, Hermione and Silver would be waiting for him in the Common Room.
…  Huh.  One package had a mass of silvery, water-like fabric in it, with a note that said it had once been his father’s, but no signature.  The very next package he opened had robes that seemed to be made of the same material, complete with hood.  It also had a note- but it was from Silversong…  and said only to hide it, and ask her about it later, in private.
He looked between the two different, oddly similar gifts, before stuffing them both out of sight and resuming his gift-opening operation.  In the remaining packages, he found a handmade flute from Hagrid, a rather tastelessly green knitted sweater with an H embroidered on the front of it (like he needed a reminder on who he was), and…  Oh, that was sweet.  Hermione apparently hadn’t been able to think of anything else to get him, so had given him a large bag of candy.
He wished he’d had the forethought to do that.  He’d spent weeks trying to come up with something, and failed…  so their piles didn’t have anything in them from him at all.
…  In hindsight, it was obvious what he should have done.  Though…  it wasn’t like he had money to throw around, nor the knowledge of where to go to get stuff to give them.  He was fairly sure the one address that all the delivery services he was aware of would fail to deliver to was ‘4172 Gryffindor Ladies’ Dorms, Bed 2, Hogwarts, Britain’.  Or Bed 1, for Silver.
Exactly why they had told him which beds they slept in, he had no idea.
It wasn’t like the Castle would ever let him climb that staircase, as Crabbe and Goyle had demonstrated for the Slytherins so many times- and if he wanted to give them a gift, he knew the house-elves would deliver it for him…  and didn’t need him to tell them which dorm they slept in to deliver it accurately.
There was a sudden thunk as the dormitory door flew open.  Harry looked up, but couldn’t see anything- the curtains around his bed were closed.
He didn’t need to see, though.  He could tell who was entering by using his…
He still didn’t know what to call it.  Lyra had called it ‘a function of the love envelope his mother gave him when she died’, but that was a bit of a long (and unspecific) name.  Whatever it was, it gave him the ability to ‘see’, without using his eyes, where and who nearby people were.  Lyra had said something about ‘auras’ that he hadn’t understood.
“Good mooorning, Ron,” Fred greeted dramatically.
“Why don’t you put on your Weasley Sweater?  Even Harry’s got one!” George asked.  There was a pause, while Fred made his way around Harry’s bubble of silence, to the side Ron couldn’t see.  “Come on, they’re lovely and warm.”
Harry saw Fred raise his hand and attempt to knock on his visible spell bubble, but his hand went right through it.  Fred seemed taken aback for a second, before he stepped through it.  “Uh, Harry?”  He spoke quietly.
Harry reached over and swept the curtains out of the way on that side.  “Yes, Fred?”  Then he blinked.  “Wait…  why does your sweater have a G on it?”
George’s voice wafted in from Ron’s direction.  “Yours hasn’t got a letter on it.  Mum must not think you forget your name.  But we’re not stupid- we know we’re called Gred and Forge.”
Fred nodded.  “That.  Wasn’t our idea, I’m afraid- Lyra came up with it a few months back.”  He then scowled.  “How…  How does your barrier work?  I’m not hearing Ron at all.”
Harry shrugged.  “It’s a selective barrier.  I put it up explicitly to block Ron, so we won’t hear anything he says.  And it’s also containing everything we say as well, so he can’t hear us.”
“What if he, you know…  walks through it?”
Harry shook his head.  “He can’t.  It also functions as a physical barrier, albeit not a very strong one- and similarly selective.  He could probably get through it if he threw his weight against it, but…”  He shrugged.  “It’d hurt.  A lot.  The thing resists like a brick wall until you manage to overload it.”
Fred nodded.  “And if he did, the only thing he could be sure of would be that you would point your wand at him, right?”
Harry nodded as well.  “Yep.”
“Anyways.  How do you like the Weasley sweater?”
Harry blinked.  “How…  How did…?”
“How did he know you got one?” Fred sighed.  “Remember Dumbledore’s plan?”
Harry groaned.  “He’s still trying to push it, isn’t he?”
Fred nodded sagely.  “Mom knows about the plan as well- but she’s a little bit of a blind follower, if you get my meaning.”  He gestured at the sweater.  “That was on the plan, and was supposed to look like a gesture of goodwill.”
Harry looked down at it.  “I mean…  it’s a really nice sweater.  It’d just be…  Well, I know it’s a bit unfair for me to complain about a gift, but I kinda wish she’d put more effort into finding out what my favorite color is before she made it.”
Fred chuckled.  “And to think, I was supposed to comment- loudly- about how she ‘must make more of an effort if you’re not family’.”
Harry laughed.  “How true is it?”
He shrugged.  “No idea.  Dumbledore told her what color to make it, from what I hear.  Wanted it to match your eyes.”
Harry wrinkled his nose.  “Then Dumbledore should have put more effort into finding what colors I do or don’t like.  Because…”  He tapped the sweater.  “It’s a nice sweater, but I don’t particularly like the color.”
“Well,” Fred grinned, drawing his wand.  “If the color is a problem, there’s a charm for that.”  Then he scowled.  “I only know the temporary version, though- should last about a day.  Didn’t have a reason to study the permanent one- it’s not on the required curriculum.”
Harry shrugged.  “Hermione might have.”
“It’s an advanced spell.”
“She’s good with those.”  He lifted the bag of candy Hermione had given him.  “Bertie Bott’s?”
Percy stuck his head in the door, invisible from Harry’s position.  “What’s going on in here?”
“Oooh, this should be fun,” Fred grinned, running around to where his brother was snatching something from Percy’s shoulder.  “I’ll be back!”  He passed outside the sound barrier.
Harry grinned, and started getting dressed for the day.





Hermione was distracted about halfway through her morning yawn by the pile of presents at the foot of her bed.
“Huh,” she muttered.  “I suppose that makes sense.”
Silversong woke up in her bed.  Silver was also a light sleeper, though didn’t seem to have awoken quite as early as she did today.  “Hmm?” she mumbled sleepily.
“We’ve got presents,” she answered.
“Wha…?” Silver muttered.  The curtains were drawn on this side of Silver’s bed, so she couldn’t see what she was doing, but it sounded like she was sitting up or something.
Hermione waited patiently.  It usually took a few seconds for Silver to become fully awake.
“...  Oh!  Yeah, presents, I guess.  Um…  I don’t know about you, but I feel like getting dressed before I start opening them.”
Hermione blinked, glancing sideways at her bedside cabinet.  “Good idea.”


It took Hermione only a couple minutes to get dressed, but Silver was still done before she was…  just like she still wasn’t a fan of how literally all of the students’ uniform clothes were flat black.  She would have still worn jeans under her robes, except that Lyra had informed her during the instructor crash course that her jeans were visible, making it fairly easy for anyone not completely ignorant to tell that she hadn’t been following the dress code completely.  Ever since, she had followed it, to the letter.
At least the uniform skirt went most of the way down her shins, just a couple inches shy of the hem of her ankle-length robes.
She blinked a couple times, reprocessing her train of thought.  Perhaps she wasn’t fully awake yet either- she didn’t usually switch topics out of the blue like that.  
But anyways, Silver was still done before she was, despite having only been a girl for a couple of months.
“Alright then,” she grinned, sitting on the end of her bed as Silver pushed her curtain out of the way to do the same.  “Presents.”  She paused, and lifted the first one from the pile.  “Oh hey, this one’s from you.”
Silver grinned, glancing up.  “Yep!  And you wouldn’t believe how easy it was to get that.”
She looked up at her.  “Easy?”
Silver nodded.  “For most, it would range from incredibly difficult to flat-out impossible.  I happen to have the right contacts to pull it off, though, so it didn’t take me much effort at all.”  She scowled.  “I agree, it didn’t feel like I put enough work into it to warrant it being the only gift to someone like you or Harry, but I couldn’t think of anything else.”  She paused.  “...  And is it just me, or was I just completely tactless for a minute?”
Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Maybe.”  She opened the package, and got…  it looked like a cloak, made out of some silvery, water-like fabric.  She lifted it up in her hands.  “This was…  I mean, I like the fabric, but it’s almost certainly not in the dress code.”  She looked at Silver.  “And what would make it so impossible to acquire…?”
Silver only grinned at her.
She scowled, then unfolded the note that had been lying on it in the package- she’d ignored it a second before.  She raised an eyebrow, and looked up at Silver again.
Silver only grinned again.
She scowled.  “It’s not dangerous, is it?”
“Oh, no, it’s not dangerous.  But it is very valuable, and you don’t want just anyone to know you have it.”
She tilted her head.  “Why?  What is it?”
Her answer was a grin.
She scowled, stood up, and slipped it on, right overtop her Hogwarts robes.  “Does it amplify magic?” she asked.
Silver chuckled.  “Nope.”
“Defense?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
She scowled.  “Is it bulletpr-!”  She froze, looking down at it.
Her body, including all four limbs, was simply gone.  She could still see them in her mind, with too much precision for it to be her kinesthetic sense, but they were gone.  She dashed over to the mirror by the door, and looked into it.
Her head was floating in midair.
She could hear Silver’s chuckling.  “Put your hood up,” Silver suggested.
She stared into the mirror, reached back, and flicked her hood up.
Her reflection disappeared entirely.
“It’s…” she began.  “It’s an invisibility cloak.”
Silver’s answer came straight into her mind, prompting her to let out a scream of fright and fall on the floor.  “Yep!”
“S-Sorry,” Silver said aloud, running towards her.  “I…  I wanted to test that out.”
She looked up at Silver…  and saw nothing.  But, she could somehow feel where Silver was, fill her in with her mind’s eye.  Just like how she knew where her own body was.  “What in the world…?”
Silver shrugged.  “Just any invisibility cloak wouldn’t be all that hard for someone of my means.  Sure, they’re expensive, but that’s about it- most people could acquire one, provided they saved up enough.  Problem is, regular invisibility cloaks will get holes burned in them by spells that hit or pass through them, and they also wear out over time, and stop working.
“So I climbed the ladder.  Told Diamond what I wanted.  She then told Bonbon, who told Princess Twilight, who told one of her friends, and Princess Luna.  Twilight helped Luna convert some of her magic into a solid fabric, which Twilight’s friend Rarity then made into cloaks.  At that point, they were already invisibility cloaks, because of the nature of the magic they converted- but Twilight went on to add a couple of enchantments, before passing them back down the line.  That’s why we can see ourselves, and each other.  And why they have that telepathic function.  Only works between people wearing them, and they’re linked, so we can’t just get more and expect it to work.”
“Wait.  You mean they’re enchanted magic?”
Silver shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess.  I don’t understand the details either, but I’m told they should last for thousands of years.  But they’re basically one-of-a-kind, so virtually impossible for most to acquire…  or even know where to start.  And they gave me six of them, so you got one, Harry got one, I got one, Diamond got one…  and the last two are for when someone else gets added to the herd.”
Hermione blushed.  “Not you too!”
Silver sighed.  “You know, I wish.  Thing is, I realized a couple weeks ago, I can feel it.  Some kind of…  powerful attraction, between the four of us.  It’s very unambiguous- with the way it feels, there’s nothing else it could be.  Still feels like there’s something missing, though- like we’re destined for a herd of more than four.”
Hermione sighed as well.  “All…  Alright, I’ll give you that much.  Just don’t tell anyone but…  uh, the herd, okay?”
Silver grinned.  “That was already my plan.  I don’t get the idea Diamond realizes she’s, uh, ‘part of the herd’, but she still counts in my book.  I had to tell her to get her to help me get the cloaks, but I swore her to absolute secrecy first- even against Bonbon.  I’m pretty sure she was only able to get me the cloaks thanks to her ‘unique talent’ for leadership- or, more directly, getting people to do what she wants them to.  Anyways.”  She flicked her hood back, and her head reappeared.  “Shall we finish opening our presents?





Dumbledore breathed a sigh, staring across the room at the Mirror of Erised, arms folded across his chest.
This was one thing that had gone according to his plan:  The Mirror had been placed in this room, and Harry’s invisibility cloak delivered to him, right on schedule.
Unfortunately, that was the only thing that had.  It was now the third night after Christmas, and he had yet to confirm that Harry had found it.
Interestingly enough, though, he had heard the scream from the library that he’d planned, even though the events necessary to make that happen had never happened.  And on both of the prior two nights, especially the first one, he’d heard footsteps and breathing in the room with him, even a touch of whispering.
During the long hours of the night, his plan had called for him to wait on the tables in the back, and do…  basically nothing.  Instead, he’d found himself spending those long hours glaring into the mirror from across the room, wishing it would show him how to get his plan back on track- rather than just showing him his current plan working perfectly…  which it most certainly was not.
The whispers returned, eventually- after the door shifted slightly.  In contrast to his plan, he’d shifted it to be just far enough closed that Potter would have to shift it, just a little bit, to get in.  As a signal.
Fortunately, that little plan seemed to have worked flawlessly, and not interfered at all with his master plan.
He listened carefully.  He heard what he thought was Harry’s voice, but he cautioned himself against confirmation bias; he didn’t actually know what the boy sounded like.
He also heard what sounded like a girl.  Harry wasn’t supposed to come here with any girls in tow- only Ron, and then only on the second visit.
He then made out one of the voices.
“Oh, there it is!  Mirror of Erised.  It’s…”  It trailed off.
Possibly-Harry answered a minute later, and Dumbledore was only barely able to make it out.  “Well, that’s disappointing.”
A minute later, the door squeaked slightly, and the whispers were gone.
He waited another few hours, until about three in the morning, before he cancelled his own invisibility spell and stood up.  His plan had failed him again- but perhaps Harry didn’t need to know how to work the mirror to hold Voldemort off the stone long enough for him to arrive.  All he would have to do would be to distract Voldemort…  in theory.
But he wouldn’t be able to count on Harry to be the true final layer of defense.  He had to hope the Mirror and his have-it-use-it spell was enough, or that Harry figured out how it worked fast enough.
He needed to take it down to the Stone’s resting place, and emplace his spell.





Dumbledore sighed.
Exactly as he had expected, it had been a challenge for even him to get past all the barriers he and his staff had put down here with the Mirror of Erised in tow- particularly the first one.  Well… second, technically.  He was able to pacify Fluffy by whistling a tune, so that was no challenge.
Sprout’s Devil’s Snare…  he had to, very carefully, hang the Mirror from his broomstick- which he’d brought from his office- before climbing through the trapdoor and onto the broom, from whence he simply flew down.
For Flitwick’s keys, he simply drew the spare key that was kept in a drawer in his desk and opened the door.  McGonagall’s chess pieces parted instantly when he stepped into the room, having recognized his magic.
He did notice one potential problem, though, that might be worth investigating.
The white queen had a spiderweb of cracks up her left arm, as if something had struck her very hard.  They didn’t look deep enough to cause the piece to start coming apart, but the fact that they were there at all was worrying.  He would have to bring Minerva down sometime soon for repairs- and to determine exactly what had caused the damage.
The troll had been the biggest sticking point, but it was fairly easy in comparison to the first obstacles:  He simply left the Mirror in the chess room, hit the troll with a stunner from the Elder Wand, and retrieved the Mirror to walk past the unconscious troll.
Snape’s trap room had also detected his magic signature, and elected not to ignite the flames.
Finally, he stepped through the darkened doorway that would hold black flames for anyone other than himself or Minerva.
Then, he froze.
There was the table.
There was the pad.
There was no Stone.
It had been stolen already.
He set the Mirror in the room, drew his wand, and started scanning everything he could see.
When had it been stolen?  Who had taken it?  Where was it now?
He didn’t know.
> Chapter 34
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Yes, just like that,” Hermione muttered softly.
Her wand was gently touching the back of Silversong’s neck in class once again.  It was early spring- just two weeks before the exams.  Silversong had yet to stabilize her magic enough for Hermione to be satisfied with telling her to go for her wand.
Some weeks before, they had discovered that Hagrid had acquired a dragon from somewhere, and helped him care for it.  Hermione had, in a burst of genius, brought an Equestrian she’d met that seemed to know a lot about dragons, named Spike.
Spike had, in the safety of Hagrid’s hut, accidentally revealed that he actually was an Equestrian dragon- and subsequently swore them all to secrecy.  The revelation had come in the form of trading fireballs with the dragon, which Hagrid had shortly named Norbert.
Then, just the week before, “Norbert” had somehow gained the ability to shapeshift into a human… girl.  She’d been re-named ‘Norberta’- and was growing alarmingly fast, living with Hagrid in his hut.  When she’d first transformed, she’d resembled a two-year-old- and had reportedly potty trained herself in a matter of hours.  Then, even though it had only been four days since she had first transformed, she had already grown to resemble a five-year-old.
Silversong, eyes closed, had just managed to stabilize her magic satisfactorily.
Hermione decided not to ask Silver to go for her wand just yet- she didn’t want to break her friend’s concentration.  Besides, a different solution had presented itself to her a couple weeks prior, when she had successfully stabilized her own magic enough to get…  abnormal effects out of it.
“Alright.  Now, reach out with your magic.  Like…  this.”  She manipulated her spell directly with her magic, allowing her to project what it should look like onto Silver’s magic.
Silver nodded slightly, eyes tightly closed in concentration, and did as she was told.
Hermione guided her carefully.
“Okay.  Now, open your eyes.”
Silver opened her eyes, and froze.
Hermione cancelled her spells, stowing her wand in a single motion.  “Yes, you’re doing that.  Practice it for a little, see if you can make it instinctive, not just something you’re good at.”
“Ah, Hermione?” Bonbon asked, stepping over.
“Mm?”
“Did you just teach Silver to use a magic you don’t have?”
She shook her head.  “No, I taught her to use her magic.”  She closed her eyes briefly to stabilize her magic- she was still working on eliminating the need for that step.  Then, she used her magic to draw her wand, twirl it in the air, and deposit it into her raised hand.  As it went, the wand was surrounded by the faint, icy blue aura that her innate magic seemed to produce.
It made sense, since Equestrian magic tended to have that aura, and that’s what she’d based her methods off of.  She was curious where the color came from, though.  She’d tried changing it, to no avail.
Then she blinked.  Bonbon had dropped her jaw.
Bonbon had dropped her jaw.
She had made Bonbon drop her jaw.
It was oddly exciting.
Then Bonbon snapped her jaw shut, and half-shouted at her.  “You have got to be kidding me!”
She flinched- as did half of the room.  “What?”
“You’re an Aethr, right?  A British Aethr?”
She nodded.  “Yeah?”
“Then how did you just use- and teach Silver to use- Equestrian Raeth magic?”
She blinked.  “Carefully.”
Bonbon sighed.  “More specifically?”
“Later?” she asked.  “Class is still in session, and I think Sweetie’s about ready to start using her Raeth magic as well.”
“What?” Sweetie Belle asked excitedly, a couple rows back.  She’d been doing very well with her practice on the magic stability problem, and with ironing it down to an instinct.  So had the other two Crusaders- such that the most recent odd-magic disaster had happened over two months prior.
Bonbon shook her head, turning away to return back where she’d come from.  “I’m starting to think you can do anything.”
She snorted.  “Hey, I thought you could do anything,” she teased.
Bonbon just sighed.  “Whatever.”





“Um, where are we going?” Hermione asked.  She tried to hide the hint of fear in her voice; Bonbon was dragging her somewhere, with a hand clamped around her wrist like a vice such that she had no choice but to follow.
Bonbon didn’t answer, forging a path through the castle.  When Peeves got in her way, there was shortly a fresh dent in the wall, and Peeves was very, very lucky he wasn’t mortal.  Suffice it to say, he didn’t stay in the way for long.
Hermione became suddenly nervous when Bonbon bumped open and dragged her through the door into the Instruction Course classroom, which still had that metal ‘assigned personnel only’ sign on it.  “Um-!”
Bonbon stopped, closed the door, and snapped her fingers.
The TARDIS core- Hermione was fairly sure that’s what it was called- lit up and started moving.
A couple of seconds later, five girls faded into existence at the head of the room, at the same time as all the desks and chairs scattered about were replaced by a large, circular table with chairs all around it.
Hermione’s breath caught.  Those five girls…  were the powerhouses that had created the TARDIS core.  She squeaked in fright, and debated trying to hide behind Bonbon.
Probably wouldn’t do any good, unfortunately.
“You called?” Luna asked Bonbon imperiously- but Hermione noticed that all four of the others were looking at her, as if sizing her up.  What were they looking for?
“Princess Luna,” Bonbon began.  “Princess Twilight.  Starlight Glimmer.  Sunset Shimmer.  Lyra Heartstrings.  I would like you to meet Hermione Granger.”  She gestured to Hermione.
Hermione flinched.
Twilight raised an eyebrow.  “I’m pretty sure we’ve already met before?”
Bonbon ignored Twilight’s question, and continued talking.  “She is the girl that not only designed Britain’s first compound spell, but she successfully taught all three Crusaders to use British magic- and just today, taught both Silversong and Sweetie Belle to use their innate Raeth magics…  successfully on both counts.
“She’s a British Aethr.”
Bonbon turned to Hermione.  “Hermione, show them what you showed me.”
“Um…”  Hermione took a deep breath, closing her eyes…  and forcibly calmed herself down.  She was only able to stabilize her magic after the second breath- but fortunately, it was easier to keep stable than it was to stabilize.  Then, she drew her wand with her magic.
Instantly, she felt the ripples of magic flowing through the air around her as four of the powerhouses- all except Luna- teleported closer to get a closer look.  She squeaked, and nearly lost control, but managed to keep her magic stable enough to avoid disrupting her spell.
“Wow,” Starlight muttered.  “She’s emulating a generic version of our CM magic.”
Lyra, on her other side, answered equally softly.  “Enough to let her use any Equestrian magic she wants, but not enough to give her safe passage through the Gate.”
“Looks like that emulation has an efficiency factor of about two percent though,” Sunset mumbled, behind her.  “Yet she’s managing a six-thaum output.”
“Which puts her core strength at about three hundred thaums,” Twilight muttered, in front of her.  “Which is…”
“Right in line with our initial estimate for her,” Lyra supplied.
Twilight nodded.  “Add that the average British core strength is around five thaums, to an Equestrian’s hundred…”  She tilted her head, looking into Hermione’s eyes.  “You designed a compound spell?”
“Uh-!” Hermione began, trying to disguise the nervousness.  “Y-Yeah.  Bonbon said the spells I use to view people’s magic are compound spells.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow.  “As in, they have multiple incantations, that must go overtop one another just right for the spell to work properly?”
She nodded.
“Huh.  So, you’ve definitely got brains, and ability.  That’s a mighty rare combination.”
“And you say that in a room full of them,” Sunset chuckled.
Twilight rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, I know.  But us four are literally all Equestria has to offer in that regard, not counting the immortal Princesses from a bygone age, out of a population of about twelve times that of Wizarding Britain.  Assuming the same rate, that gives Britain an average of about point three such people.”
Sunset shrugged.  “True.”
Lyra looked at Bonbon.  “You wanted to invite her, right?”
Bonbon nodded once.
Hermione blinked.  Invite her to what?
“Anyone that can teach the Crusaders magic gets my vote,” Sunset stated.
“Agreed,” Lyra declared.
“Considering her CM-magic emulation seems to defy three separate laws of magic as we know them, she’s got my vote,” Starlight stated.
Twilight blinked.  “What-?  It defies-?  Wow.  Then…  Yeah.  Considering what she’s able to do when she technically doesn’t have the capability to do it…  makes me curious what she’d be able to do if she did.  She’s got my vote.”
“Vote?” Bonbon asked.
Twilight blinked.  “...  Whatever.”
Luna, who had walked closer while the others chatted, chuckled.  “I believe we have a consensus.  Not very often for that, is it?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a better-qualified candidate,” Lyra answered.  “I’m not surprised.”
“How hard would it be to give her that capability?” Twilight asked Lyra.
Lyra winced.  “Well…  after the Papa Tango failed on Draco, I’ve been digging over the records.  Not quite done yet, but according to the records, it actually worked.  But it didn’t.  And I haven’t seen Draco around, so…”
Hermione drew up her courage, and concentrated on keeping her voice even.  “It worked.”
Everyone looked at her, making her squeak.  “It did?” Lyra asked.  “He can use Equestrian magic?”
Hermione nodded meekly.  “Yeah.  It took three weeks to finish…  and…”  She took a deep breath.  “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”
They looked at each other.
Twilight shrugged.  “Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone anything.  Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my ey-Ow!  I keep forgetting I’m supposed to close my eye for that last part.”
Hermione stared.
“That’s a Pinkie Promise,” Lyra informed her.  “Comparable to the Unbreakable Vow.”
“...  Oh,” Hermione muttered.  “Well…  It…  It also gave him a few new forms he could change into with his British Animagus magic.”
Lyra nodded.  “A…  not unanticipated side effect.”
Hermione looked at her.  “He is Silversong.”
Lyra blinked.  “Okay, that was unanticipated.  And Silversong should be able to pass through the Gate…  which means it worked, I guess?  Then why didn’t it…?”  She scowled.  “You said it took three weeks to finish?”
Hermione nodded.  “Two weeks of pain and symptoms- she said they were pretty extreme- then a week of complete magical nonfunction.”
Lyra winced.  “Well…  those logs should have enough for me to reduce the intensity of the symptoms a bit, but only a bit.  I’ll have to add a lot of sensing routines so I can reduce it even further next time.”  She looked at Twilight.  “So it’s technically possible, but it’d hurt a lot, despite being as safe as the Common Cold.  Not something I’d be comfortable forcing on anyone.”
“Ahh,” Twilight muttered.
“Anyways,” Princess Luna interjected.  “Bonbon has her answer.  Let us return to our duties, and let her continue with hers.”  She looked at Lyra.  “You can talk to her about your Papa Tango later.”
Lyra nodded.  “Definitely.  Whelp, I’ll see you later.”  She snapped her fingers, and disappeared.
The other girls quickly followed suit- until, very quickly, it was just Hermione and Bonbon in the room.
Hermione took a deep, calming breath, bringing her spell back from the precipice of collapse.  She’d maintained it throughout.
Bonbon sighed, turning to her.  “Sorry about that.  You can put that away now, if you want.”
She put her wand away, relaxed her hold on her magic, and took another deep breath.  “So…  invite me to what?”





“Ulick?” the Prime Minister asked, looking up from his desk at the otherwise empty room.
A picture on the opposite wall twitched when its name was called, then coughed lightly.  “I have to say, it’s not very often that a muggle Prime Minister calls on me,” it commented.
He smiled.  “I’m aware of that, and it’s about time that changed, isn’t it?”
The man in the picture blinked.  “Oh?  How do you mean?”
“What I mean is that I think it’s about time our governments start cooperating more fully- so when it comes time to reveal the wizarding world to the non-magical world, which will happen whether we want it to or not, neither of us will be caught unprepared.”
“...  Ahh.  Do I take it you want me to get Minister for Magic Fudge?”
He nodded.  “Yes please.”
Ulick nodded his head.  “Got it.  I’ll be right back.”  He vanished into the frame of his picture.
Oscar, the Prime Minister, waited for about a second after Ulick disappeared, before touching the ‘enter’ key on his keyboard, to send a single-letter Facebook message.
Mere seconds later, the door opened, and a few of his ministers filed in to take seats.  It wasn’t a full cabinet, but the planned discussion would have significant impacts on all four of these ministers’ departments.
Closest to him sat Aurora Lewis, the Secretary of Defense.  Next, there was Noah Chapman, the Secretary of Foreign Relations, Harriet Jones, the Secretary of the Interior, and finally James Robertson, the Press Secretary.
They waited for about ten minutes- then a couple of them twitched slightly when a loud crack of exploding air indicated the arrival of Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic.
“Sorry about the delay,” Cornelius began.  “Had one of the old purebloods trying to tell me that muggleborns shouldn’t be allowed-!”  He froze when his gaze fell on the gathered ministers.
James stood and held out his hand.  “You must be Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge,” he greeted, with a small bow.  “James Robertson, Press Secretary.”
“Ahh…” Cornelius began.
“Wizardkind is still a national secret,” Oscar stated.  “However, as much as we might wish it wasn’t the case, there have been plenty of sightings.”  He sighed.  “And what shouldn’t muggleborns be allowed to do?”
“Ahh…  To make studies.  Total bogus- and it’s not like I could do anything about it if I wanted to.”
Noah raised an eyebrow.  “Is this in reference to Miss Granger’s study?”
“Yeah.”  Then he blinked.  “Wait, you know about that?”
Oscar pushed forward one of the ‘documents’ on his desk, being a copy of a school newspaper from fairly early in the school year- with ‘Hogwarts’ written across the top.  “Has me wondering what it means for us non-magical folk.  Perhaps we should invite her for another study?”
“Though, considering it was published over six months ago, why’s your pureblood only complaining now?”
“Ahh…”  Fudge twitched uncertainly.  “It…  It only went public this morning, actually.  That…  How did you get that?”
“We have, ahh, sources,” Oscar stated.  “And we’re not the only ones with such sources.  Just about every non-magical government on the planet has at least one, and well over half of them have top secret departments set aside to manage the Wizarding Problem.  We are no exception- and as a matter of fact, we’ve got the biggest one.”
“For the last couple dozen years,” Harriet added, “we’ve been helping squash rumors of witches and wizards- but with modern technology, that’s becoming harder and harder.  Before long, wearable electronics will be so capable it’ll only take one sighting to alert the entire world…  and if that happens, you’ll have the Witch Hunts all over again- and this time, you won’t be able to hide from it.  We’ve already confirmed the presence of at least two buildings, at various locations, that are not visible to the naked eye- but are plenty visible to cameras.  One of them was even famous, for a time- we had a hell of a time covering that up, I tell ya.”





“Hey, Emma?”
Emma Granger looked up from the breakfast table.  “Yes, dear?”
Dan Granger handed her a small stack of papers- the top layer being the very official-looking envelope it came in.  “Is this normal?”
She raised an eyebrow and accepted the pages.  After glancing at the return address on the envelope, and confirming that it was indeed from the Prime Minister, she flipped the envelope around to the bottom of the stack and started reading.
A minute later, with a stunned expression, she flipped to the next page.
It took her several minutes to read- and reread- the research paper that had been sent with it.
Finally, she looked up.  “Yes.  Yes, I do believe it is normal for Hermione to forget to tell us something.”  She smiled.  “Good thing her owl always seems to know when to show up to pick up a letter.”
Dan nodded.  “Definitely.”
> Chapter 35
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well,” Harry sighed, sitting down on the grass.  “That was…  tiring.  Right, girls?”  He glanced sideways, at Hermione and Silversong, who were already lying down on the grass.
“Girls?” Silver asked, stressing the plural.  “What about that was tiring for me?”
He raised an eyebrow.  “Well, you weren’t grading anything, but you still had plenty to do.”
Silver raised an eyebrow.  “Oh, you mean learning every wand-magic spell we covered in the entire year in just three days?  That was nothing.  I’ve got much worse waiting for me at home, over the summer.”
Harry nodded.  “Yep, me too, and believe me on that.  I almost envy you.”
“And come on, Silver,” Hermione injected.  “This is where you tell him it was tiring because he wasn’t there.”
Silver rolled her eyes.  “But it was tiring for you, right?”
“Not…  Not really,” Hermione answered.  “I mean, it certainly took some time to grade everyone’s homework and teach you every spell from the entire year at the same time, but I don’t know that I’d call it tiring.”  Then she scowled, and turned to Harry.  “Oh, and Harry?  If you’ve been living with Dudley, how was grading a dozen tests tiring?”
Harry sighed.  “It wasn’t the tests that were tiring,” he answered her, lying down.  “It’s just- I keep seeing Rarity doing her levitation, and I keep wishing I was a Raeth, rather than an Etrah.”
“Speaking of which, I’m still wondering what the difference is between a regular Aethr and a specialized Aethr,” Silver muttered.  “For that matter, what the difference is with the specialized versions of any tribe.”  She shrugged, glancing at Hermione.  “And how you got to be one.”
Hermione shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’m more curious if muggles can also be divided into those same tribes, and if so, what the differences there are.”
Harry scowled at the sky.  “Personally, I’ve been wondering about Norberta.”
“How do you mean?” Hermione asked.
“Well, dragon breeding has been illegal for ages, right?”
“Yes, ever since the-!” Hermione began.
Harry cut her off.  “So how did Hagrid get her egg?”
“...  He said he won it,” Silver muttered.  “I wonder how the guy he won it from got it?  I wonder if it was a legitimate win, or a plotted one?”
Harry sat up sharply.  “You mean…”
“You mean Norberta’s egg might have been a bargaining chip in getting Hagrid to reveal a way to get past Fluffy?” Hermione asked, rising slowly.  Back on Christmas night, when they got their invisibility cloaks, Hermione had gone to see what was in the Restricted Section, Silver had wandered randomly through the castle and found the Mirror, and Harry had taken a peek in that third-floor corridor, to find a great, three-headed dog.  When they’d mentioned the dog to Hagrid, he’d christened it ‘Fluffy’.
Silver blinked.  “...  Yes, I guess I do.  We’d better go ask Hagrid about that, shouldn’t we?”
“And go straight to Dumbledore if it turns out he has leaked,” Hermione agreed, scrambling to her feet.
“Definitely,” Harry agreed, already leading the way to Hagrid’s hut.





“...a bit o’ music and he’ll go right to sleep.”  Hagrid didn’t catch himself until after he’d finished the sentence.
“Huh,” Norberta muttered; she’d followed Harry, Hermione, and Silver into Hagrid’s hut, curious why they were so worried.
“I shouldn’t have told ya that,” Hagrid barked.
“Oh…  So it has leaked,” Hermione muttered.
“That’s a problem,” Silver groaned.
“What-!?” Hagrid half-panicked.  “Don’t tell anyone!  And don’t try it, either- the next protection is deadly, and I can’t tell ya what it is!”
“Uh,” Norberta muttered again.  “Dad?  I’m a little less worried about them than I am that bloke in the bar.”
Hagrid blinked.  “Uhh…”
“Dumbledore needs to know the secret was leaked,” Hermione stated.  “Even if we don’t tell him how it was leaked, he needs to know that it was.  I mean,” she looked at Harry.
“He is the one with the plans, isn’t he?” Harry asked.  Then he shrugged.  “Though if you ask me, he needs to forget about them for a little.  Madam Pomfrey has already sedated him five times this year.”





“Well, that was a bust,” Silver muttered, as Professor McGonagall disappeared from sight.  They’d just tried to ask for Dumbledore, learned that he’d been called to the Ministry, and been instructed to head back outside.
“What next?” Harry asked.  “We can’t just…  wait.”
Silver blinked, looking off to the side- and stepped around Harry.  “Professor Snape!”
“Uhh,” Hermione muttered uncertainly.
But, thanks to her…  interesting sorting situation, Silversong had an unusually friendly relationship, for a Gryffindor, with the Head of Slytherin House.
Snape raised an eyebrow.  “What is it?”
“Well, um,” Silver began, glancing around the hall to make sure they were alone.  They were, but their voices were echoing.  “It’s a little secret, soo…”  She hurried forward to meet him.
Snape’s expression was a close match to Professor McGonagall’s, when Harry had said his business with Dumbledore was secret.
She waited until she was right up close to him, before continuing in a low tone.  “It’s about the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“How do you know about that?” Snape asked.
“Research,” she answered quickly.  “More importantly, we just found out that its first layer of defense has been breached.  And Professor McGonagall said Dumbledore just got summoned away- making tonight, or even right now, a good time for someone to try and steal it.”
“When did this happen?” Snape asked stiffly.
“Um,” Silver looked at Hermione.  “Two months?”
Hermione nodded.  “Right about, yes.  We only just found out about it.”  Silver could sense Harry and Hermione’s nervousness; they were convinced it was Snape trying to kill Harry and steal the Stone, but Silver wasn’t so sure.  As far as she was concerned, the attacker probably wasn’t the Potions Master that had been at the school for over ten years, but was either one of the students…  or the one professor that was new.  And, according to Harry, no good at his job.
Snape’s eyes narrowed.  “And how did you find this out?”
“Asked,” Silver answered.  “Two months ago, some bloke in a bar got Hagrid really drunk and got him to talk over a dragon egg.”
“A drag-!?”  At least he didn’t yell.
She nodded.  “That’s Norberta now.  Some…  strange interplay with Equestrian magic, I think, turned her human.”
Snape let out a sigh of relief, then raised an eyebrow.  “I bet Hagrid was disappointed.”
“Yes, he was.  Anyways, we…  asked how he got her egg, and…  you know how he is.”
Snape nodded slowly.  “Yes…  I don’t suppose that means you know what that dog’s secret is?”
“Yes, we do.”
He sighed again.  “Very well.  Rest assured the Stone is in no danger, and for your own lives’ sakes, do not try to get past that dog.  It’s one of the less deadly- and more obvious- protections.”





After hopefully allaying the Gryffindors’ concerns, Snape swept up the staircase towards the third floor…  and tapped into the Castle Wards.  He almost despised using the telepathic network built into them, but he had to agree that it did have its uses.
Like now.
“Professor Dumbledore,” he called.  “I’ve just been informed that Fluffy’s secret was leaked.”
“I can’t say I didn’t see that coming,” Dumbledore answered irritably.  “How’d they get Hagrid to talk?”
“They got him drunk, then something with a dragon egg.”
He could tell that Dumbledore very nearly cussed.  He wouldn’t have blamed the man if he had cussed, of course- he knew as well as the rest of the Heads of House that Dumbledore’s elaborate plans had been ripped to shreds by the Equestrians’ presence.  That was something they were still working on getting Dumbledore to realize himself.  “Of course they did.”  Then Dumbledore noticeably calmed himself.  “Though I guess that means Voldemort won’t be killing Fluffy.  Has anyone been sent to help Hagrid send the egg off safely?”
Snape grinned in spite of himself, pausing at the end of the third-floor corridor before continuing down it, towards Fluffy’s door.  “No need, that was two months ago.  According to Silversong, the egg has already hatched- and the hatchling, thanks to a strange effect of Equestrian magic, been turned into a human child.”
“Two months…?  Oh, good.”
Professor McGonagall came on even before Snape could respond.  “How is that good?”
“Ahh,” Dumbledore muttered.  “The thing is, the Stone was already missing when I set the Mirror of Erised down there after Christmas.  If that was only two months…  we know who didn’t steal it.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this then?” McGonagall asked.
“I…  Didn’t think of it, sorry.”
Snape opened the door just far enough to double-check that Fluffy was fine, and that there were no instruments in evidence, before resealing the door and placing a monitoring charm on it.  Why Dumbledore hadn’t done that, he had no idea.  “Alright then, I guess Fluffy and our defences are a red herring now.  Looks like they’re secure, got a monitoring charm on the door, so we’ll know when he’s in the trap.  And I hope we find who has the Stone before Voldemort does.”
“You and me both,” Dumbledore answered fervently.





“Snape said it’s in no danger, even with Fluffy bypassed,” Silver reminded Harry.  They were sitting in a private corner of the castle grounds an hour or so after Snape had sent them outside again, but Harry couldn’t stop worrying about the Stone.
“She’s right,” Diamond stated.  “It’s not like we’re anywhere near as tough as some of the finest witches and wizards in the world.”
Hermione looked at her.  “Well…”
Diamond rolled her eyes.  “I’m not talking about physical strength, I’m talking about wisdom and combat prowess.”
“But it’s-!” Harry began again.
“How about this,” Silver interrupted.  “Tonight, we’ll all don our cloaks.  Including you, Diamond- but you stay in the Slytherin dormitories.  The rest of us will go to the third floor corridor and make sure the door is still closed.  If it’s not, we tell Diamond, who gets Bonbon, then we wait for Bonbon before we do anything else.  If it is, we go back to bed.”
Diamond let out a chuckle.
“What?” Hermione asked.
Diamond shook her head.  “No, just that it’s usually me making orders like that.  No problem- as long as nobody does anything stupid.  Like, if Bonbon says to jump, you jump.  And if she says to go to bed, you go to bed.  No matter what.”
Harry blinked.  “Uh-!”
“Definitely,” Silver agreed, before looking at Harry and Hermione.  “Bonbon’s probably the best of any of us by a long shot.”
Hermione nodded.  “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she already went down there once.”
> Chapter 36
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Say what?” Dumbledore asked, over the Castle wards.  He’d just turned around to head back to Hogwarts- a mere two minutes before, Snape had reported that his door monitor spell had been triggered.  Someone was entering the sequence.
“Three more entering,” Snape repeated.  “Could be lackeys, I think it was those Gryffindors.  Which included Potter, if I’m not mistaken, so hurry back.”
“In the meantime,” Professor McGonagall volunteered, “we’ll go in after them- get them out alive.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore answered.  “To get past fluffy, you’ll need to play him some music.”





Of course, even when Silver had tried, there had been no stopping Harry when he saw the open door.  He’d charged forward, drawn the flute neither of the girls knew about, and played Fluffy to sleep.
When Harry wouldn’t listen to their relaying Bonbon’s command to fall back, Bonbon changed tactics, and told them to go with, to keep him safe.  She was also, of course, on her way- and had even told them what to expect after Fluffy.
Apparently, it was a two hundred meter drop to a Devil’s Snare.
“It’s a soft landing,” she’d told Diamond, down in the Slytherin dormitories, “but it will attempt to kill you.  Either get away from it before it can grab you or light a fire to drive it off.”
So Silver, who had yet to find the limit of the Equestrian levitation Hermione had taught her, had gone first.  Her magic had effortlessly ripped the plant away from her, then had similarly effortlessly caught the other two, placing them gently down on the stone floor next to her.
Then there was the room full of keys.  For some reason, once Hermione examined the lock on the door and described the key, it had taken Silver a matter of seconds to locate the key, and snag it with her magic.
The chess game had been…  scary.  They’d replaced a few pieces, then started play- then Silver, who was guiding the black pieces, had missed that she was in danger, and her piece was ‘taken’.  A white bishop had stopped in on her square, raised its arm, and swung.
She had ducked- then, when it swung again, thrown it from the board with her magic.  The rest of the pieces had moved to pounce on her, so she had panicked- and a few moments was all it had taken for her magic to convert all of the pieces to piles of broken marble around the edges of the room.
Then there had been the room with the troll in it.  It was already out cold, though.
Then the room with rows of potion bottles in it.  It had taken Hermione only a few seconds to solve the riddle, though she spent almost a full minute double-checking her work.
So Harry had gone through first.
Then, out of curiosity, Hermione and Silver had both walked through the purple flame…  and promptly returned to the room, to find the bottle to go through the black flame refilled.
So Silver had sent Hermione through the black flame next, and dodged both ways through the purple flame again.
Finally, she swallowed the potion for the black flame, and stepped through it.





When she reached the other side, she didn’t like what she found.  Harry was tied up on the floor, and was trading words with the back of Professor Quirrell’s turban.  Hermione had been…  she supposed ‘tied up’ still described it, but she looked almost like a mummy, wrapped up in a truly ridiculous amount of rope and knots.  She was untying herself with her magic, albeit slowly.
Then, as she stepped further into the room, a voice answered Quirrell’s question.
“Use the boy,” it said.  “Use the boy.”
Quirrell didn’t look, but snapped his fingers to untie Harry.  “Potter!  Come here.  Tell me what you see in the mirror.”
Harry glanced up at Silver, pointed at his feet, and then at his wand, lying on the floor about a foot away from him.
Silver blinked, remembered that Harry was an Etrah, realized that the room was well under fifty feet across, and used her magic to quickly remove Harry’s shoes and socks.
Harry scrambled to his feet on the stone floor, and turned to Quirrell.  “Why should I?” He demanded.
Quirrell turned.  “Because-!”  He froze upon seeing Silver, then snapped his fingers again.
Silver suddenly found herself bound with ropes…  that her magic made quick work of, snapping them clean in half.
Quirrell snarled, and snapped his fingers again.
Except, Silver was ready for it this time.  Combined with her Cutie Mark talent, that meant the large number of ropes appearing out of thin air to bind her again missed, as she leaped out of range just in time.  She rolled when she landed, and came right back to her feet.  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.  Even knowing he was a Professor at the school, she found his attacks against herself, Harry, and, presumably, Hermione to be inexcusable.
Besides, the man seemed to have two voices- that were certainly not controlled by the same mind.
Quirrell drew his wand, raising it to point at Silver.
She wasn’t sure what to do.  Dodge the spell?
“Expelliarmus!” Hermione cried suddenly.
Quirrell’s wand left his hand instantly.
Silver glanced towards Hermione.  She was still tied up, but she had her wand out, floating a foot away from her in her icy blue aura and pointed straight at Professor Quirrell.
Right, Hermione was an Aethr- she could do that as far as six feet away.  Though the magic aura part was most certainly not Aethr magic.
Quirrell snarled, and snapped his fingers to resummon his wand.
“He can do that?” Silver asked.
“I guess,” Hermione answered.  “He’s a Raeth.”
“Well this looks climactic.”
Everyone turned immediately to look at the door, to find who had spoken.
“Lyra?” Hermione asked.  “What are you doing here?”
Quirrell cast a spell at her, but she blocked it with a gleaming golden barrier, the exact color of her magic aura.  “Oh, me?  I’m just looking after my future children-in-law.”
Harry gave her the stare.  “Did you have to do that?”
Lyra shrugged.  “What, are you going to deny it?  Diamond’s, ahh, partnerfinding magic activated a week ago.”
“So she can feel what I’ve felt all along,” Silver stated.
“That early?  That’s unusual,” Lyra muttered, then she shrugged.  “Then again, just about everything about you is unusual.”
Quirrell was getting furious.  “Crucio!”  The bolt of light also bounded off of Lyra’s energy barrier.
Lyra looked at him.  “Oh puh-lease, that’s an Unforgivable Curse.  And you do not want to find out who’s looking out for me.  The hard way, at least.”
Silver blinked.  “Who is?”
Quirrell instead decided to escalate.  “Avada-!”
Then, he…  disappeared, with an echoing BOOM.
Bonbon stepped out of the fresh rectangular hole in the wall next to the black fire.  “That would be me.”  She glanced at Lyra, then across at the wall next to the Mirror of Erised.  “How flat do you think he is?”
Silver looked…  and gasped.  The piece of the wall from Bonbon’s rectangular hole was flat against the wall there- and looked to have slammed into it with some significant speed.
Lyra shrugged.  “I don’t know how durable British adults are just yet,” she stated, “but I’d wager to guess he’s pretty flat.  That was about mach seventeen.”
Bonbon wrinkled her nose.  “Eh.  Still not good enough.”
Professors Snape and McGonagall stepped through the hole behind Bonbon.  “Mach seventeen?” McGonagall asked.
“Yep,” Lyra answered.  “That wall crossed the room- and hit Quirrell mid-killing-curse- at about seventeen times the speed of sound.”
Snape blinked.  “No human could survive that,” he stated.  “No matter what potions they drank.”

Lyra peeled the wall away from the other wall, on the side facing away from Harry, Silver, and Hermione, wrinkled her nose, and pushed it back against it again.  “Yeah.  Very, very flat.”  She looked up at McGonagall.  “I hope you weren’t planning on taking prisoners.”
> Chapter 37
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, I guess we’ve only got the train ride left,” Silver sighed, as she, Hermione, and Harry sat down for breakfast.  They’d be going down to take the train back home shortly after the meal- and, fortunately, her parents would be appearing at Platform Nine and Three Quarters under a disguise, so she could be Silversong all the way home.
“Tell me about it,” Harry groaned.  “I’m not looking forward to the summer.”
“I’ll visit, don’t worry,” Hermione very nearly crooned.
Harry sighed.  “If the Dursleys will allow, of course.”
“Of course they’ll allow,” Silver inserted.  “They’re muggles, and she’s a muggleborn.  What do any of your parents have to fear about being seen letting you visit each other?”
Harry sighed.  “The Dursleys are…  not nearly so parent-like.”  Silver wouldn’t be visiting either one over the summer, because of the social and political damage that would be done if either of her parents were to be seen ferrying her to or from a muggle neighborhood.  “Remember, these are the people that tried to beat the magic out of me for ten years.”
“...  Right,” Silver groaned.  “We’re all going to hate the summer, aren’t we?”
“Not if I can help it,” Hermione stated industriously.  “I mean…  yeah, I’ve already got a lot lined up, between the Papa Tango and the Government, but I’ll make time to visit you.  Both of you, if I can.”
“The Papa Tango thing came through?” Harry asked.
“The Government?” Silver asked.
“Uh, yes, and yes,” Hermione answered.  “The letter came in last night, my parents are okay with it.  Lyra’s just making some final adjustments before we go do it.  And yes, the Government…  turns out the Muggle government got their hands on a copy of my article somehow, and they want to try a similar study, this time involving muggles.”  She grinned.  “I bet I’ll be learning a lot from that- and they’ve already cleared it with the Minister for Magic and everything.”
Right at that moment, Lyra sat down on Hermione’s other side; Silver and Hermione had sat on either side of Harry.  “Speaking of which, it’s ready.  Got it better than I thought I would, to be honest- as near as I can tell, the first wave of symptoms should be next to nothing now, though the rest will only be probably abated slightly…  and possibly even exacerbated.  I don’t have the data to do any better, unfortunately.”
Hermione smiled at her.  “Hey, that’s amazing.  Way better than I was expecting.”  Then she shrugged.  “Plus, it’s only the initial symptoms that really need beating down right now- for the rest, I’m going to be at home anyways.”
Silver rolled her eyes.  “ ‘Only the initial symptoms’,” she quoted.  “What are you, a masochist?”
“No!” Hermione promptly denied.  “I’m-!  That’s just a time when nobody but my parents will see me.  And I mean, it would be nice if the rest were down too, certainly- but if they’re not, it’s no big deal, because nobody will see me anyways!”
“Speaking of which, I’m really sorry about yours, Silver,” Lyra stated.  “It wasn’t supposed to hurt like that.”
Silver rolled her eyes.  With Harry’s and Hermione’s help, she’d warmed up to Lyra a bit, but the girl still made her uneasy.  She hadn’t been impressed to learn that Hermione had told Lyra who she was some weeks ago, but at least Lyra didn’t bother her…  except once, to apologize once again for forgetting to ask permission before doing the Papa Tango, and to ask- out of curiosity, of course- what her answer would have been had she remembered to ask.
“Had you asked, I probably would have said no,” she had answered.  “On the other hand, had you asked, and I had known what would happen, it would’ve been a solid yes.”
That was about as close as she felt comfortable getting, just yet, to thanking the girl for doing it to her.





Lyra reappeared hardly half an hour later, this time in Silver and Hermione’s dormitory, as they were finishing up their bags for the train.
“Hello,” she greeted.  “Um, do you mind if I come in for a minute?”
Silver raised an eyebrow, but Hermione answered.  “Sure.  What do you need?”
“Um,” Lyra muttered, before looking at Silver.  “There’s something… that I feel I should ask you about,” she said.
Silver’s other eyebrow joined the first.  “So you’re remembering to ask this time?”
Lyra blushed lightly.  “No, no, this isn’t anything like that, but…  yes, I suppose, I am.  I…”  She took a breath.  “I noticed that the magic of the Castle has been covering for you- and quite admirably, at that- all year long.”  She shrugged.  “Well, I only noticed when I looked, but still.
“The issue is that, by the nature of the spellwork involved, it won’t extend to the train.  Someone would notice that Draco Malfoy- or Silversong, depending- never got off the train at Platform Nine and Three Quarters.”
Silver winced.  “That’s…  good to know, I guess.”
“The thing is, I can- temporarily- extend that magic to cover the train and station at both ends- so nobody’ll notice Draco was never on the train at all.  It’ll only last a couple of days, since I won’t be making it ambient powered, but it doesn’t need to last any longer- and besides, with the amount of power I can dump into it when not making it ambient-powered, you could shift in front of the entire Wizengamot and nobody would notice.”
Silver blinked.  “...  Sure, then, I guess.”
“Then…  there’s something else I wanted to do.  Me and Twilight will be using a blanket search spell to make sure that all the Equestrians make it back to Equestria, and I’d like to exclude you from it ahead of time, to minimize the chance of a mistake at the station.”
“What kind of mistake?” Hermione asked.
“Oh, something like Silversong being accidentally dragged along to Equestria,” Lyra answered promptly.  “It wouldn’t hurt her, per se- not the way it would you or Harry, that’s for certain.  But what it would do would be to separate her from anything and everything she’s familiar with, and very possibly get her lost in the crowd in Ponyville for a few days before we figured out what happened, and were able to bring her back.  Completely aside from what that kind of thing could do to her parents, that’s not an adventure I could wish on anyone- and possible side effects would include PTSD.”
Hermione winced.  “That’s bad.”
“What’s…?” Silver asked.
“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Hermione stated, as if reciting something.  “A condition of persistent mental and emotional stress occurring as a result of injury or severe psychological shock, typically involving disturbance of sleep and constant, vivid recall of the experience, with dulled responses to others and to the outside world.”
Lyra looked at her.  “Did you swallow the dictionary?”
Hermione stared.  “Um, no?”
“Because that’s how my dictionary describes it, word-for-word.”
“I…  I studied hard?”
“You mean to tell me,” Silver interrupted, “that being randomly dragged into another world and hopelessly lost in that foreign world that nobody I know physically could come rescue me from would be traumatic?”
“Uh, yeah,” Lyra answered definitively.  “Though that’d be a bit of an understatement.”
“No kidding,” Silver retorted.  “Yes, absolutely do that thing.  I might want to visit Equestria sometime anyways, but not involuntarily if I can help it.”
“Works for me,” Lyra stated.  “Now, I’ll just need to…”  She held out her hands, and a series of golden symbols rippled around her.  A ring of them briefly appeared around Silver, glowed softly, and disappeared again.  “There.”
“How does that work?” Hermione asked.
Lyra blinked.  “Oh, that?  I just applied the ‘exclude’ tag we’ve already built into the spell, since we don’t want it to find either myself or Twilight.  We’ll work out a different spell over the summer, that we can put on the Gate, to keep track of who has crossed and who hasn’t- and ensure that the correct people are returned, no matter what.  And that, in the event of an accidental crossing, we’re able to locate and correct the issue quickly.”
“What’s that tag thing do?” Silver asked.  “Aside from, well, tagging.”
Lyra shrugged.  “Nothing, really.  It’s just a standing spell, designed to shut down and dispel itself after about three days, so you won’t need to worry about its local overhead for very long at all.  And with the whole no-magic-at-home thing that they can’t enforce in Equestria, I rather suspect that you won’t need to worry about that overhead at all, even before it dissipates.”  She shrugged.  “And if someone’s using spells near you powerful enough that they do need to worry about that overhead, you’ve got bigger problems.”
“What about you?”
“Me?  Oh, me and Twilight are only two of Equestria’s finest spellsmiths- we regularly deal with the levels of power an overhead like that can cause problems with.  We also- unlike you- know how to dispel it early if need be.”  Then she paused, and put a finger to her chin.  “Come to think of it, we’ll have to look into getting you at least a basic Equestrian magic education at some point, to enable you to fully utilize your own power.  I mean, what I hear Hermione taught you was a great start, but it’s a long shot from the whole thing.  Especially with a talent like yours- it’d be almost criminally negligent to not give you the opportunity to study up on it.
“Speaking of which, while I’m here, how do you fancy being a student instructor next year?”
> Chapter 38
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hermione?” Dan asked, looking up from the breakfast table.  “Is that you?”
Emma looked up as well, blinked, and smiled.  “You’re up early,” she teased.
Hermione, who had just entered the room, grinned at both of her parents.  “Yeah, I suppose it is early, isn’t it?” she asked.  She’d spent the last seven days locked up in her bedroom, getting through the third and fourth stages of her Papa Tango- and just yesterday, it had finally given over to the fifth stage…  and all the symptoms had gone with it.  She’d then slept soundly for the first time in just over a week.  “And yes, it’s me.”  She pulled her gleaming, metallic red hair over one shoulder, so it could fall down her front with its gentle waviness and icy blue fringes.  “Do I really look that different?”
Dan shrugged.  “Almost.  I mean, I could tell who you were, it’s just…  I’m used to your hair looking more like, ahh…”  He paused, searching for the right word.
“A haystack?” Hermione supplied.
He shook his head.  “No, I was thinking it looked like your mother’s.  Which that most definitely does not.”  He gestured towards her.
Emma, whose hair almost perfectly matched Hermione’s old hair, chuckled, and held out a hand.  “C’mere,” she prompted.
Hermione trotted around the table to her.
Emma promptly clamped her in a hug.  “It’s good to see you moving about again,” she said.  “Even if that means we’ve got that study coming.”
“Actually,” Hermione said, pulling herself free enough to speak clearly.  “It hasn’t finished yet, and we can’t do the study until it has.  The first four stages are over with- but I’ve still got five, six, and seven to go.”  She shrugged.  “Technically speaking, from the moment the seventh stage starts, we can do the study, but my magic will be changing rather rapidly throughout, so I’d rather not risk it.”
“What do these last stages do?” Dan asked.
Hermione shrugged.  “We actually don’t know what happens throughout the fifth and sixth.  When the fifth stage started, I turned back into…  well, me, but I’m about as magically capable as a muggle.  When the sixth starts, I’ll regain control of my Animagus magic- which will allow me to turn myself into an Equestrian.  Not that that’ll be very useful.
“It’s the seventh that we are waiting for- that’s when my magic returns, but it does so gradually.  Once it finishes, the whole Papa Tango is done.”  She shrugged.  “Basically, all the physical changes are done, we’re just waiting for the last few magical changes.”  She smiled.  “And since I’m not in constant pain any more, there’s no reason I can’t come eat with the rest of the family.”  She grinned.  “And be a normal girl.”
Emma chuckled.  “You do know there’s nothing normal about you, right?  Especially after that Papa Tango thing?”
She shrugged.  “Yep.  Doesn’t mean I have to act weird, though.”
“Hmm,” Emma mused, and put a hand on the top of Hermione’s head.  “Is it just me, or are you shorter than you were a week ago?”
She blinked.  “I- what?”  She tilted her head.  “That…  I shouldn’t be, but…”
“We can measure after breakfast,” Dan announced.
“Oh, yes,” Hermione smiled, moving around to her seat.  “It smells divine.”  Then she paused, tilting her head.  “Huh.  Definitely smelling things a lot stronger than before…  but Silver also got an acute sense of smell from her PT, so I guess it’s not unexpected.”
“...  Right,” Dan muttered.  “Anything else we should know about?”
She shrugged.  “Not that I know about.”





After dinner, they measured her height- and found that she had, in fact, shrunk a couple of inches.
“That’s not right,” Hermione scowled, retrieving the phone that Lyra had given her from her nightstand.  It took her only a few seconds to dial Lyra’s number, then she waited.
She didn’t need to wait for long.  Lyra picked it up on the first ring.  “Yessum?”
Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Lyra, you might want to stop by.”
“Oh?  Something happen?”
“Yes.  Got into the fifth stage of the Papa Tango yesterday…  Just found out, I shrank.”
“What-?  But that-!  Huh.  Well, I’m chaperoning some tourists through London at the moment, so…  Two hours, I think, and I can be there?”
“Works for me,” she answered.
When she hung up the phone, Emma raised an eyebrow.  “Where’d you get the phone?”
She blinked, and looked at it.  “Oh.  Um…  Lyra gave it to me.  It’s…  um…”  She wasn’t sure what all she could tell her parents- it might have looked like a regular phone, but it was actually a specialized one, on an encrypted line and everything…  and had been given to her not out of goodwill, but because she’d chosen to accept Bonbon’s offer.
Bonbon’s offer…  to join their top-secret Equestrian organization, which would give her access to all the finest magical research there was, in Equestria at least, and all of the finest research tools.  After all, she hadn’t joined as a ‘field agent’ like Bonbon, but as a scientist…  like Lyra.
And it all was, of course, top secret.  From everyone, including her own parents…  and, for now at least, her ‘herdmates’, as Lyra had called them:  Silversong, Harry, and Diamond.  Lyra had assured her that they would eventually get her herdmates cleared to learn about it if at all possible, but it would take time.
“I thought technology didn’t work at Hogwarts?” Dan asked.
She grabbed at the opportunity.  “Yeah!  Me too!  Then they just…”  She shrugged.  “I mean, it gets no reception at Hogwarts, but it still works just fine.”  That was entirely true- it did get no cell reception at Hogwarts, even though Lyra had told her there was a cell tower with line-of-sight.  She’d even pointed it out to her before they left for the summer.  The thing was, in areas of no cell coverage, it went into ‘satellite mode’- so she could make and receive calls anywhere she could see the sky…  which included Hogwarts.  Even the Hogwarts dungeons- Lyra said something about the Hogwarts wards being on just the right frequency to amplify the satellite signals, instead of deadening them, like it did other kinds of signals.
“Interesting,” Dan muttered.
“Definitely,” Hermione agreed.  “It makes me wonder what other tech works at Hogwarts- and where else wizarding common knowledge is wrong?”





About two hours after, Lyra knocked on the door, and Emma let her in.  Dan had left for work; it so happened it was one of the days that he manned their dental practice alone.
“So,” Lyra began, when Hermione appeared at the door to the family room.  “You said you…  Yep, about three inches, too.”  She scowled.  “As a matter of fact, that’s about how tall you were on the train to Hogwarts.”
“Uh, what?” Emma asked.
Lyra blinked, looking up at her.  “Oh, sorry.”  She tapped the side of her head.  “Perfect recall.  I’m also using a bit of advanced magic to accelerate my calculations.”
“So, what’s that mean?” Hermione asked.  “Have I been…  frozen?”
“I don’t…  Yeah, no, you haven’t been.  Silver grew at least an inch since I first saw her.  But…”  She sighed.  “What it could be doing is resetting you back to a certain age- specifically, the ‘Age of Synchronicity’, it’s called, between our worlds.  Basically, whenever someone first travels from one world to another, they take on a form in that new world that is at- or below- the Age of Synchronicity between them.  Since the Papa Tango gives you an Equestrian form, and that Equestrian form is technically based on the other side of the Gate, that Equestrian form is guaranteed to be produced at or below the Age of Synchronicity.”
“So, what is this Age of whatsits?” Emma asked.  “How old?”
“Between this world and Equestra?  Eleven years, exactly.  Pretty sure that’s what tripped up Hogwarts’ spells, too- because any spell trying to determine your age in a world you’ve never been to will always see you at or below the Age of Synchronicity between that world and the one you happen to actually be in.  As a result, according to Hogwarts last year, the entire population of Equestria- save a couple percentage points- was exactly eleven years old.  We live well past three hundred years old, as a rule.”  She let out a snort of laughter.  “Which, coincidentally, means that you will as well.”
Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Alright, alright.  So, how would that make me shrink?”
“It’s…  a bit complicated,” Lyra muttered.  “But…  Well, because of how the Papa Tango works.  Basically, it recreates your primary form to be an Equestrian form- which would explain Stage Three.  The fourth stage would be when it synchronizes your new magic with you, allowing your form to be affected by the dimension you happen to be in, and causing you to take a humanized Equestrian form- which is generated on the spot, and so at or before the Age of Synchronicity as well.  Stage five would be once it finishes restabilizing your magic, and my identity restoration routines kick in.
“I put those in because your original form- like Silver’s blonde-haired form- is actually incompatible with your new magic matrix, so you won’t be able to hold it for long, or use Equestrian magic at all while in that form.  It shouldn’t have been touched by the Age of Synchronicity…  but the new form the identity routines produce might be.  They create a duplicate of that original form, and modify it just enough to be fully compatible with your new magic matrix, then they push you into that form- that’d be the form you’re in now.  Which…  it’s possible it has to modify it far enough it counts as coming from the other side, causing the Age of Synchronicity to apply to it as well.  Mind if I check for the indicators of biological age?”
“Sure,” Hermione muttered.  “And…  When you say ‘at or before the Age of Synchronicity’, what do you mean?”
“Mm?  Oh, that.  Basically, since you’re over the Age, you’re going to be at the Age of Synchronicity.  Had you been under the Age- and, say, eight- your new forms would’ve matched your true age exactly.”  She paused.  “And…  yeah, biologically, you’re almost exactly eleven years and one day old.  So yes, it must have been enough to be hit by the Age of Synchronicity.”  She sighed.  “Well, that’s certainly good to know.  I can’t be putting any adults through that thing until I find a way around the Age of Synchronicity.”  Another pause.  “Hmm…  A good age spell ought to do it, to alter the apparent biological age to match the original, until…  Yeah.  Gonna be a bear to build, though.”
Hermione breathed out a sigh.  “So what happens if I try to cross an age line?”

“Oh, those will go off your true age, not biological.  If I used it to turn Dumbledore into an eleven-year-old- that would be amusing, I daresay- he could still cross just about any age line on the planet without issue.”  She shrugged.  “Considering how close your new biological age and your true age are, I want to say there’s really no point in trying to ‘fix’, quote unquote, the age issue for you- it will really only affect things like biological processes.  Magic will still see your true age- and I haven’t been able to find anything in this world, magical or otherwise, capable of measuring biological age very precisely at all.”
> Chapter 39
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hi Harry!”
Harry jumped at the sound of Hermione’s voice, while he was tending to his Aunt Petunia's rosebushes out front, and looked up.  “Oh, Hermione.  When’d you get here?”
Hermione grinned, gesturing towards the front door- which her parents were walking up to.  “Just now,” she answered.  “Dad said something about a good conversation at the practice.”  She glanced down at what he was doing.  “Mind if I help?”
Harry glanced at the rosebush he was working on.  “You know what I’m doing here?”
She shook her head.  “No, but I’m sure there’s something I can do.  Right?”
Harry shrugged.  “Yeah, I suppose.  Not much, though.”  He snipped off a dead rose bud.  “How’s your Papa Tango going?”
“Going?” she asked.
He nodded.  “You’re a week early.  Either it went faster than Silver’s, or it’s still going.”
She shrugged.  “Yeah.  It’s into the fifth stage, though, so there’s only magical changes left.”  She tilted her head.  “The sixth stage should start today.”
“Ahh.  So it’s right about on schedule, then.  How bad were the, ahh, earlier stages?”
She shrugged.  “Lyra was right, the first stage was nearly painless.  Two through four were torture, though.”  She shuddered.  “Oh, and when five started, I shrank a bit, back down to exactly eleven years old.”
Harry blinked.  “...  Okay.”  He uprooted a weed that was peeking out next to the bush.  “So, your, ahh…  stick isn’t working?”
Hermione blinked as well.  “What?”
He shrugged.  “The Dursleys haven’t been nearly as bad as usual,” he stated.  “The way they described it, it sounds like I have some kind of aura that makes them hate me.  They’re fighting it, now that they know it’s there- and I’m helping, by not using the words related to how…  different we are from them.”
“Huh.  Should I…?”
He shrugged.  “I don’t think that aura thing includes you, since my ‘aura’ seems to affect everyone in town, so you should be fine.  Still can be amusing, at times- I actually made Vernon chuckle when I referred to, ahh, it as a ‘bang stick that only goes bang when you use it wrong’.”
Hermione giggled.  “Yeah, I could see that.”





Close to an hour later, Harry was showing Hermione around the house when she suddenly froze, eyes wide.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I-!” she began, and cut herself off.  She took a deep breath.  “I need to tell you something.  Somewhere…  private.”
“...  Alright,” he muttered.  “How-?”
“Your room?” she asked, somewhat urgently.
He blinked.  “As you wish, Your Highness,” he stated, and led the way.
She rolled her eyes at him, but followed.  He entered before she did, and held the door for her; she promptly took it from him and closed it.
“Alright then,” he muttered, confused.  “What is it?”
“It-!” she began.  “It must be ten forty-five or so.  Because…  the Papa Tango.  I think the sixth stage just started.  And…  And I apparently have…”  She looked to the side, then something large and bronze-colored appeared from behind her back.  It stretched away from her- and she turned sideways, so it wouldn’t hit the wall.
Harry stared.  It was bronze, covered in feathers, and bent slightly in the middle.  There were very large feathers hanging down from it in a few layers…  and it was long enough it almost touched the wall opposite the door, from where Hermione was standing just a couple feet in front of the door.  It was…
“Is that…?” he asked, trailing off into silence.
“I…  I think it’s a wing,” Hermione muttered.  “I…  I just…”  She stared at it.
Harry looked up at her.  “When did that happen?”
She twitched.  “I…  I don’t know.  I just…  felt them, all of the sudden, a minute ago.”  She refolded the wing, turned the other way, and extended another one from her other side.
“Well,” Harry muttered.  “I guess that’s what Aethrs have.  Lyra did say they could fly.”
“But not in this world,” Hermione answered.  “She said they could fly in Equestria.  As a matter of fact, in…  in what she told me after the Papa Tango started, and their secret became mine as well…  Equestrian Aethrs do have wings in Equestria.  But they do not have wings on Earth!”  She took a breath, refolding the massive wing and turning to face him.  “And…”  She shuddered.  “Does this mean I won’t have wings in Equestria?  Or-!”  Her eyes widened.  “What will I tell the doctor?”
Harry blinked, and shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe you just go see Equestrian doctors?”  He tilted his head.  “...  Huh.  Where’d they disappear to?”
“What-?” she asked.  “Aren’t they still…  you know, visible?  It’s not like they just disappear.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.  “Well, they did just disappear.  Not invisible disappear, but behind your back disappear.”
“...  Really?” she asked.  “Then…”  She turned her back towards him.  “How bad is it?”
Harry blinked.  “Nope, only see the back of your shirt.”
“What…?”  She pulled her hair over her shoulder- then her wings fairly exploded through her shirt.  The shirt didn’t seem to tear or anything, the wings just went right through it.  “What do they do with my shirt?”
“They seem to be going through it,” Harry stated.  “I…”
She folded her wings.  “And still over it?”
Harry shook his head; her wings had seemed to vanish right through the fabric, leaving her back looking like she didn’t have wings at all.  “Nope.  It’s like…”  He ran his hand across her back, just below her shoulders.  There were no holes in the shirt, though he could feel the wings underneath.  “Huh.  The magic must make them go through the shirt, and return under it when you fold them again.”
She turned back towards him.  “Really?”
He nodded.  “Ought to be mighty convenient, if you want to fly while wearing a coat or something.”
She let out a breath, and leaned against the closed door.  “And if I don’t want people to realize I’m not even remotely human anymore.”  She blinked, and whipped a phone out of her pocket.  “Which makes me curious.”  She tapped it a few times, and held it to her ear.
“Uh…  Oh, hi Lyra!  I was wondering, are Equestrians and, uh, non-Equestrians, um, compatible?”  Pause.  “Er…  as in, having children.”  A longer pause.  “...  Oh, that’s…  interesting.”  Then she blushed.  “Yeah, I probably should have, shouldn’t I?”  She chuckled nervously.  “Yep, everything’s going okay.  Stage six started, and…  I’m visiting Harry at the moment, but you’ll probably want to stop by my house sometime later today.  There’s…  Yeah.  Yep, I’ll see you then.”  She hung up, then stowed her phone.
“Sooo,” Harry muttered.
“Um…  One of the first things they looked into after the Hogwarts letters started crossing was genetic compatibility…  and the answer- which surprised them- is yes, equestrians and humans are perfectly compatible.  The child would always be an Equestrian, but…”  She shrugged.
Harry tilted his head.  “What if it was a human that went through the Papa Tango?”
She grinned.  “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”
Harry raised an eyebrow.  “I mean, if you plan on finding an Equestrian boy…”
She blushed, and rolled her eyes.  “Of course not.  Besides, with Silversong- and even you, after your Papa Tango- to play the male part, I’m sure Diamond won’t mind playing the female part.  Once we’re all older, of course.”
It was Harry’s turn to blush, and look away.  “Anyways.”





“This seems to be going well,” Snape muttered, pausing next to Lucius Malfoy at the head of the room.  Just like they had every year prior, the Malfoy family had thrown a ball for their son’s birthday- and Snape was invited, among other families.
And this year, Snape had noticed something that bothered him:  Draco Malfoy had seemed to have taken to his ‘noble prick lessons’, as Lucius affectionately called them, very suddenly- the boy was a perfect noble, mingling with the rest.  He hadn’t seen the boy since the beginning part of the school year- after which he supposed Draco had withdrawn into his role as a Noble, and fully indoctrinated himself with it…  which, he knew, was one of Lucius’ worst fears.
Lucius nodded calmly, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly- which Snape knew meant he was nervous about something.  “So far,” Lucius agreed quietly.  “So far, yes.”
Snape scowled marginally more than his traditional scowl.  He’d have to stay late- he usually left early, as he had a certain dislike for parties- and have a more private conversation with the man.





It only took about six hours for Snape to get Lucius into another room for a private conversation.  “So,” he began.
Lucius nodded.  “So.”
“About your son, Draco.  I notice he seems to have…  taken to the nobility training.”
Lucius sighed.  “Don’t I know it.  I’ve been spending half the night telling people how proud I am of my ‘little nobleman’.”  He shook his head.  “And at the same time, worrying myself half to death that he’ll mess something up.”
“I hope he hasn’t…  fully internalized it?”
Lucius actually let out a snort of laughter.  “No, this is better- way better.  He’s fully rejected it, but learned it anyways- he’s putting on a show for our guests.  While he was at Hogwarts, he found a rather…  unique way of segregating his private life from his membership in the Nobility.”  He looked towards the door.  “I keep expecting him to mess up, and blur the border, but he hasn’t-!”  He went suddenly silent, as a knock sounded on the door.
Three quick, respectful knocks, then the door opened, and Draco bowed himself in.  “Father, Sir,” he began.  “The Goyles are looking for you.  Mr. Goyle said he wouldn’t be satisfied by anything less than the Head of Malfoy House Himself serving his wine.”
Lucius rolled his eyes.  “Of course.  And Draco?”
“Yes, Father?”
He gestured towards Snape.  “Do you think…?”
It seemed a strange question to Snape- and judging by Draco’s response, the boy thought it equally strange, despite actually understanding it.  Draco raised one eyebrow inquisitively, then looked at Snape in a manner that he could only describe as contemplative.  He promptly tried a quick, surface-thought-level Legilimency scan, of the type that wouldn’t even show up on a skilled Occlumens’ radar (but would be blocked by their passive defenses), to try and figure out what he was contemplating.  Unfortunately, he came up against the same strange barrier that had been set over all the first-years at the beginning of the school year- and did not try to push past it.  Dumbledore had, reportedly, tried- and failed- to do just that.
He noticed the corner of Draco’s mouth quirk in an amused smile, before the boy turned back to Lucius.  “He can keep a secret, right?”  Snape was taken aback by the bluntness of the question.  Draco’s perfect noble-ness had seemed to disappear.  Did the boy use a mental switch to separate his noble life and his private life?
Lucius raised an eyebrow.  “I daresay he can,” he answered.  “Even from the Dark Lord himself.”
Draco shrugged.  “Then I don’t see why not.  Just not right now, I do not want Yaxley to have even the slightest inkling of it.”  He scowled, then looked up at Snape.  “Or Dumbledore, if possible?”
“Why not?”
“Telling him would introduce unnecessary complications.  And if the trend from the term has continued, I doubt he could handle the news without going crazy right now anyways.”
Snape let out a snort of laughter.  “He’s…  stopped getting worse, at least.  We’re working on it.”
“Anyways,” Draco stated, straightening himself and schooling his expression.  “My message has been delivered, so I should return to the ballroom.”  He bowed, opened the door behind him, and withdrew.  “Excuse me.”
The door landed closed.
Snape looked at Lucius.  “That was…  quite unnerving.”
Lucius nodded.  “You should see him when there aren’t nobles all up and down the house.”
“I…  am beginning to suspect what you’re so worried about.”
Lucius chuckled.  “Oh, you haven’t seen anything.”
“Shall I stay until after the party, then?”
“Sure.”





It took another several hours, until well into the night, before the party finally drew to a close, and Snape watched Draco see the last family- the Crabbes- out the door.
Draco then looked around the room, spotted Lucius and Snape both watching him, and stepped away from the door, off to the side.  “Dobby,” he commanded.
The house-elf appeared by his side almost instantly, and Draco ignored its presence.  “Yes, Master?”
“Who all is left?”
“Just Mr. Snape, Sir,” Dobby announced.
Draco let out a sigh, and headed straight for the window, which he peered out of.  “And about time, too.”
The room was silent for about thirty seconds.
“Father?” Draco asked.  “Ready.”
Lucius let out a sigh of relief, and drew his wand.  A few incantations later, and Snape felt the wards ‘close’ around them- and flag him as allowed, even when closed.  “Clear,” Lucius announced.
It was Draco’s turn to let out a sigh of relief.  His noble stature vanished instantly, and he fairly trotted straight to the couch- where he pivoted on one foot, and flopped himself down on it in a most un-noble manner, such that she was sprawled across it.  “Well, that was exhausting,” she grumbled.
Snape stopped himself.  There was something wrong with that picture.
He blinked, resisted the urge to rub his eyes, and ran over the memory once again.
Draco had walked up to the couch, and pivoted on the ball of one foot…  then Silversong had finished that pivot, and flopped down on the couch.
Right at that moment, Silversong turned her head to look at him.  “You can probably guess what the secret is,” she stated.
He nodded slowly, the puzzle pieces starting to come together.  Now that he thought about it, ever since Silver had been sorted, he hadn’t seen Draco at the Castle even once, but he’d seen Silver fairly regularly.  “So…  How did…?”
“Well,” Silver muttered, looking up at the ceiling.  “You…  might have heard of Lyra’s Papa Tango, that put me in the Hospital Wing for two weeks, then on ‘no-magic’ restriction for another week?”
Snape wrinkled his nose.  “Yes, I remember that.  Rather... difficult, to forget.”
“What that ‘Papa Tango’ did, was to magically transform me into an Equestrian.”
He nodded slowly.  “So how did…?”
“Simple:  Equestrians are not native to Earth.  So, the transformation had side effects.  Most notably, my magic is actually Equestrian magic, instead of British magic.  I still have the British-only abilities, like Animagus magic, but…”  She shrugged.  “Part of the magical transformation process included a physical transformation, then a forced reverse transformation.  But then, my Animagus magic came back on, and with it, I gained control over my form.  Madam Pomfrey says that I’m still technically not an Animagus, the Animagus magic is simply allowing me to shift between various forms that I have from other sources.
“Then, this- Silversong- is my natural form.  I can turn into Draco, and all that- but when it comes down to it, I realized sometime in the middle of the year, Silversong isn’t just what I am- she’s who I am.  Draco is just a facade I put up for the world to see, both in form and personality.”  She heaved a sigh.  “Wish it wasn’t necessary, but it is.  Anyways, that’d normally be a fairly unworkable setup- but one of the things I got with the Equestrian magic was a unique, Equestrian-only magic facet, that they call the ‘Unique Talent’ on this side of their Gate.
“As you might guess, no two Equestrians will ever have the same talent conferred by that facet- so of course, I got my own unique talent from that facet.”  She grinned at him.  “Because of that magic, I’m automatically good at anything I try, so long as I actually know how to do it to begin with.  Makes school a breeze- and staying ‘noble’ for the nobles, similarly so.  And so…”  She shrugged.  “As for why not to tell Dumbledore…  I’ve been told he’s had this…  plan, that involved Draco being a minor antagonist to Harry.  Then this happened, and at this point, I’m fairly sure I might even end up marrying Harry when the time comes.  As Silversong, of course- Draco would never marry a boy.”  He scowled.  “Which…  I’m sure that’ll make any political marriage Draco might need to make very, very complicated.”
Lucius let out a snort of laughter.  “Good thing the Malfoys never accept such proposals, only ever make them, hmm?”
She nodded.  “Good thing.  We…  haven’t made any, have we?”
He shook his head.  “Nope.  And even if we did, right now, I think the best candidate would be that Diamond Tiara, as a show of unity between our peoples…?”  He trailed off.
Silver was giggling.
“What?” Snape asked.
“Oh, it’s just…  Well,” she began, grinning like a loon.  “If Draco were to publicly marry Diamond…”  She broke into a fresh fit of giggles.  “That’d be even more complicated, probably.  But I’d be all for it- I mean,” she grinned up at them, “I do like Diamond, and she might be into Harry as much as I am…  but polygamy is normal in Equestria, and I’m sure she would be all for it as well.”
“...  Oh,” Lucius muttered.
“Anyways, I’d rather keep Silversong out of any of Dumbledore’s plans- and that means any and all of her ties to Draco as well- until long after said plans become irrelevant.”
“What about the girl that was with Potter- Miss Granger, I believe?” Snape asked.
Silver nodded.  “Yeah, she and Harry get teased a lot for looking like a couple, but that’s just because they went to school as close friends.  Contrary to Dumbledore’s plan, I understand.”  She shrugged.  “But remember what I said about polygamy and Equestria.  I’m pretty sure Diamond expects to be marrying me, Hermione, and Harry, when the time comes.”  She tilted her head.  “No, strike that.  Very sure.  She’s said so.”  She shrugged again.  “I figure we’ll just have a few, monogamous marriages- like Draco and Diamond, then Harry and Hermione- under British law, but then we’ll just marry us all together under Equestrian law- and since only Equestrians can cross the portal and live, the British lawmakers need never find out about it.  We’ll have to get Harry a Papa Tango as well, though...”  She scowled, trailing off.
“Only Harry?” Lucius asked.  “What about Hermione?”
She shrugged.  “Hermione’s Papa Tango should have started its sixth stage- out of seven total, three days each- earlier today.  Nother week and she’ll be an ‘Equestrian’ like me, too.”  She made air quotes with her fingers, then sat up.  “Hey, Dobby?”
“Yes Mistress?” the house-elf asked, appearing out of nowhere once again.
“Could you get me something to drink?  I’m more than a little parched after that party.”

“Right away, Mistress!” the house-elf squeaked, sounding excited, before he disappeared.
> Chapter 40
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And would you be Hermione?”
“Ahh, yes, that’s me,” Hermione answered.  Her Papa Tango had ended just over a week before, and she’d spent the time since practicing stabilizing her new magic.  She’d managed it to about the same degree as she’d been able to stabilize her old magic- but hadn’t tried any other magical effects, since she didn’t know what the Trace would or wouldn’t detect, and get her in trouble for.
So of course, prepared or not, it was time for the magical study with the muggles.  She wasn’t sure what to expect from it, but the government was very definitely not playing games with security.  She’d had to present her shiny new photo ID- and her wand- to the Sergeant standing guard at the entrance to the building.  He’d returned both, of course- and she’d entered, her parents right behind her.  The Sergeant had checked their IDs at the same time as hers.
Once she’d entered, she’d then run into a woman in the lobby- who had greeted first her parents, and then herself.  She still had her wand out, so she figured that was how the woman knew who she was.
“It’s nice to meet you,” the woman smiled, holding out a hand.  “Aurora Lewis, Secretary of Defense.  I’m sorry about the security, but we want to be absolutely sure we know who’s in here, and who’s not.  The existence of wizardkind is a national secret, after all.”
She blinked, putting her wand away.  “...  Ahh.  Okay.”
Mrs. Lewis smiled.  “You shouldn’t need to worry about that here- everyone in this building has been cleared to know.  Any thoughts on what to expect?”
“Not sure.  I wrote that article after scanning the magic of a bunch of wizards, and common Wizarding knowledge is that muggles don’t have an ounce of magic, sooo…”  She shrugged.  “Honestly, common wizarding knowledge was that the spells I used to scan said magic were impossible, so who’s to say it isn’t wrong there too?”
She chuckled.  “Well, here’s to hoping it’s wrong there too.  All this effort would be for nothing if it wasn’t, wouldn’t it?”
She winced.  “Yeah, it would.  Personally, I expect even muggles have magic, though weak, inactive, or whatever.  I mean, there has to be a reason muggleborn witches- like myself- exist, and when I scanned Filch a few days after that study…”  She shrugged.  “I mean, he’s a squib- a muggle born from wizarding parents- but he’s also an Etrah.”
“Isn’t there a difference between squibs and regular muggles?”
“Yeah…  Squibs have a magical awareness, and so can see magically-hidden things like the Leaky Cauldron, and regular muggles don’t.  And Filch’s magic did seem weaker than everyone else’s, but not by much- mostly, it was simpler, with fewer connections going out.  So, that’s about what I expect to see in muggles- just a little weaker than his, with even fewer- possibly even zero- connections.  Fortunately, I don’t need those connections to tell the tribe, I have only to look at the patterns in the magic itself.  And stabilizing it the way I do to make my wand float doesn’t mask those patterns- makes them stand out, actually.”
“To make your wand float?”
“Yeah.  By stabilizing my magic- I couldn’t think of any better way to say it- I was able to bully my British Aethr magic into behaving like Equestrian Raeth magic, allowing me to levitate my wand freely.  I wasn’t very strong with it, but…”  She shrugged.
“You say that like it isn’t the case any more,” she observed.  “Does that have anything to do with your new hair?”
She blushed, and ran a hand down her hair.  “Um, yes, actually.  Lyra- an Equestrian Raeth- created this massive spell deep in Hogwarts Castle capable of expanding a British magical core to match an Equestrian magical core, without losing any of the parts that made it a British core.  I went through that process over the first three weeks of summer, so my magic is now technically Equestrian Aethr magic- and it’s literally hundreds of times stronger, as well.”  She shrugged.  “For some reason nobody’s been able to figure out, all the British people that went through that spell- meaning, myself and one other- have ended up far more powerful than any other member of their tribe, whether Equestrian or British.”
“...  Alright.  Does this mean anything for the study?”
“Yep!  Means I won’t tire myself out on the first couple dozen, but will have the reserve depth to make it through the entire study without collapsing.  Only reason I was able to do it with the study in Hogwarts was because Twilight, Lyra, and a few other Raeths kept feeding me power.”  She shuddered.  “Did you know, the biggest difference I could see between Equestrian and British magics was reserve depth?”
She raised an eyebrow.  “Is it possible that’s the difference between muggles and wizards as well?”
She blinked.  “I…  I suppose it is, isn’t it?  If…  Yeah.  If muggles happen to have no reserve…  that would significantly hamper magical capability.  And…  Yeah.  Filch’s reserve was small, even by British standards, soo…”  She shrugged, and pulled her wand halfway out of its pocket.  “We could find out now, if you want.”
She chuckled.  “Nah, I believe your researchers are waiting for you.  Most of them were so eager they showed up a couple hours early.”  She gestured towards a door on the side.
She blinked.  “Already-?  Okay.  Um…  I guess I’d better go?”
She chuckled.  “Have a good study, Ms. Granger.”





Hermione stopped, surveying the room, the moment she entered it.  It was a large- very large- room, stuffed full of various researchers sitting on folding chairs and holding notepads and clipboards.  Six of them were up by the blackboard, having presumably been discussing between themselves and with the rest on something they’d scrawled all over it.
And as soon as she had entered, the entire room had gone silent, and they’d all looked at her.
“Miss Granger?” one asked- the one with the chalk in his hand.
She nodded, nervously.  “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” he stated, putting the chalk in its holder.  “We were just discussing the known applications of magic while we waited.”
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” she muttered.
“Nah, it’s still early yet,” he smiled, striding over to offer his hand.  “I’m Kasper Owen, by the way.  So, how did you want to start?”
“Um…”  She looked out across the gathered scientists.  “How did you want to start?”
He raised an eyebrow.  “You’re the one leading the study.”
“Yeah, but-!”  She took a deep breath.  “Whatever.  Um…  Shall I just start…  running down aisles with my wand, or…?”
He shrugged.  “If that’s what you need.”
“Uhh…”
“So, what do you need for your scanning spell?”
She blinked, and shook herself out.  “Right.  Sorry.  Um…  Scanning spell.  I’ll need…  Um, back of the neck.  Wrist of the wand arm works too, but not as well.”
“And I doubt very many of us have wand arms,” he chuckled.  “Want to start here, or ?”
She shrugged.  “Why not?  How about…”  She cast her eyes around the room.  “What do you say to everyone coming around to meet me?  Those chairs are mighty close together for me to reach everyone very well.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he stated.
There was a sudden shuffling as all the researchers started standing up.
“So, where would you like to sit, or stand, or…?” Kasper asked.
“Oh, and,” the scientist right behind him in the rapidly forming line asked.  “Before we start, would you mind demonstrating the known tribal magics for us?  The ones that you can demonstrate, that is.”
She blinked.  “Ahh…  sure.  Um…”  She looked around.  “Well…  the tribal magics that I can demonstrate…”  She took a deep breath.  “Let’s see.  Etrah magic…  not a chance.  But British Etrah magic is mostly just drawing magic from or channeling it through stone and other earthen materials.  Aethr magic should be okay, since I’m an Aethr…”  She scowled.  “Let’s see.  Equestrian Aethr magic…  I should be able to demonstrate that, but that would only be by walking on the wall.  And I’m not sure that I can do that, no matter how hard I try.  British Aethr magic…”  She paused again.  “...  isn’t much different from British Etrah magic.  Though, I suppose it’s the most versatile of the British tribal magics.”
Hermione stepped over towards the podium at the head of the room, drew her wand, dropped it on it, and took a deep breath.  “The only British Aethr tribal magic we were able to measure was directly connected to the witch or wizard in question’s wand.  I…  haven’t managed wandless British magic yet, so that’s out- but to an Aethr, if their wand is close enough nearby, that doesn’t matter.”  She looked at her wand, resting on the podium, and realized that she was almost automatically stabilizing her magic, even though she shouldn’t need it for this.  She didn’t stop herself.  “Lumos.”  She paused long enough for everyone to see that it had, in fact, lit up.  “Nox.  And we can also summon it from the same distance.”  She held up her hand, and her wand leaped straight into her hand.  “If timed right, that summons ability can render the disarming charm rather useless.”
She took a deep breath.  “Then…  I should be able to demonstrate Equestrian Raeth magic as well, despite not being one.  Which I can only do because I found a way to bully my magic into behaving like it; I normally wouldn’t be able to come anywhere close.”  She dropped her wand back on the pedestal, and took a deep breath, stabilizing her magic in the process.  “Sorry, it’s…  I haven’t tried this since the term ended, in part because I don’t know what the Trace will or won’t pick up.”  Then, she reached out with her magic, and lifted her wand.
As she expected, it was a lot easier to lift than last time.  That much was even apparent- rather than a faint icy blue aura, it was a much stronger, more normal-looking icy blue aura that wrapped around it.  “There,” she muttered.  “Levitation.  Probably the most common way the Equestrian Raeths use their magic.”  She scowled.  “No idea where the color comes from…?”  She trailed off as she reached forward to pluck it out of the air with her hand.
Her hand seemed to be surrounded by that aura as well.  She looked down- and found that her entire form had been surrounded by it.  “What in the world-?” she began- before, with a bright flash of icy blue light, she was gone, leaving her wand to clatter to the floor.





By the time Hermione reappeared in a matching flash of bright blue light, there were several soldiers in the room, decked out in some very high-tech gear.  She stumbled upon reappearance, and caught herself on the podium.  “What-!” she began.  “What happened?  Where am I…?”  She looked around wildly, then deliberately took some deep, calming breaths.  “Okay, okay.  Back here.  I can…  But what was that?”  She put her hand out for her wand, and it zipped instantly up into her hand, from…
She blinked.  “Wait a minute.”  It had come from where one of the researchers had been holding it near the door, a good fifteen feet away.  “That was…  that was further away than that should have worked from.  But then…”  She scowled, put her hands on both ends, closed her eyes, and muttered a few incantations.  There was a few seconds’ pause, then she allowed her spellwork to collapse.  “Huh…  that’s… strange.”
“What is?” Kasper asked, stepping forward to meet her.
“I…” she began, then took a deep breath.  “Since scanning only a dozen people tired me out during the study at the Castle, forcing much more powerful Equestrians to keep feeding me power, I went through a very powerful magical process this last month or so, to increase my reserve depth, among other things.  Then…”  She scowled.  “It’s almost like it’s happened again, but this time instantaneously, and…”  She shuddered.  “In some kind of alternate realm made up of an infinite plane of clouds.”
“What-!?” Kasper asked.  “You- You didn’t fall, did you?”
She shook her head.  “No, I didn’t.  It felt firm under my feet…  and I should be able to walk on clouds anyways, since I’m- magically speaking- part-Equestrian after that process, and Equestrian Aethrs can walk on clouds.”  She took a deep breath, and let it out.  “But it’s not possible for it to happen again- Lyra’s spellwork included a very specific anti-repeat segment.”
“Maybe you’re just good at finding new ways for magic to work?” someone asked, from behind.  Hermione jumped, turned- and stopped herself.  That was Aurora Lewis, the Secretary of Defense, who she’d met just outside.
“I-!” she began, then paused, and tilted her head.  “I…  I mean, maybe,” she muttered.  She stowed her wand, then started counting on her fingers.  “Well, I designed what I’m told is Britain’s first compound spell, used it to detect a magic facet we didn’t even know existed, taught Sweetie Belle to use magic…”
“Sweetie Belle?”
She nodded.  “She was so bad that numerous instructors had tried to teach her before, always to be met with abject failure.  I did it successfully, first try.”  She grinned.  “Then I convinced my Aethr magic to behave like Raeth magic, and…”  She tilted her head.  “And in doing so, violated three separate laws of magic as the Equestrians knew them, in a field completely unknown to British wizards.”  She shrugged.  “So…  Maybe I AM good at discovering magic stuff.  I mean…”  She paused, looking down, as a warm feeling seemed to flow through her body.
…  Her magic aura had wrapped around her form again.
“Oh boy,” she muttered, and took a deep breath, preparing herself for another quick jaunt in some strange world.
“Uhh,” a few researchers muttered.
She felt herself get lifted a little into the air…  and then fall right back down on the floor.
She stumbled a little on the landing, recovered, and looked over herself.  The aura was gone.
“...  Huh.  I wonder what that was…?”  She drew her wand, grasped both ends, and muttered her incantations…  then let them collapse.  “And nothing changed, either.”  She shrugged.  “Whatever- we’ve got a study to do, right?”  She wasn’t about to let strange Equestrian magic get in her way.
> Chapter 41
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The hedge blinked at you…?” Hermione asked.
Harry nodded.  She was visiting for his birthday- and Vernon reportedly hadn’t realized it was his birthday until after he’d scheduled the dinner party with the Masons.  So, as she’d just agreed with Vernon before coming out to meet Harry, they’d be spending the time upstairs.  “It looked…  very strange.”
“I bet,” Hermione chuckled.  “Not very often the hedge has eyes, is it?  Anyways, I talked to Vernon- and we’re going to want to be upstairs for the dinner party.  It’ll be better for everyone if the Masons never realize we exist- let Vernon work his magic on them.”
Harry grinned.  “Yeah, the magic he has that I don’t.”  He chuckled.
Hermione grinned.  “Speaking of which, did you know that muggles have magic too?”
He blinked.  “They do?”
She nodded.  “Yep.  Vernon’s an Etrah.”
He looked at her.  “He let you-?”
She nodded again.  “Yep.”
“They’re almost here,” Petunia called very suddenly, making them both jump.
“Got it,” Hermione called back.  “We’ll be upstairs, then.”
Harry rose from the bench, and shrugged.  “Whelp, best be on our way, then.”  He led the way upstairs.





When they entered, Harry’s room was not empty.  It was certainly a lot emptier than it had been when they’d gotten off the train from Hogwarts; Harry- and Hermione, when she could visit- had spent a lot of time cleaning out and disposing of a lot of the broken trash.  The Dursleys had no anger problems with Hermione, so she was usually the spokesperson for the duo.  Interestingly enough, whenever they visited, Hermione’s parents also demonstrated an inexplicable anger issue towards Harry- so they often avoided being in the same room as him for very long.
But, the room was less empty than they were expecting it to be.
There was a creature on the bed.  It looked…  strange, to Hermione.  It looked confused, staring at her, wearing…  She gasped.  “That’s a house-elf!” she informed Harry quietly.
Harry blinked, then stepped forwards, looking at the elf.  “Who are you?”
The house-elf twitched, and looked at him.  “Dobby, Sir.  Just Dobby.  Dobby the house-elf.”
Hermione put a finger to her chin.  “Where have I heard that name before…?”
Dobby ignored her.
Harry didn’t.  He turned to Dobby.  “So…  why are you here?”
“Ahh…  Dobby wonders where to begin,” Dobby muttered.
“The beginning?” Harry suggested.





“Well, that happened,” Harry muttered, when Dobby finally left.  He’d tried to convince Harry not to go back to Hogwarts, for no better reason than ‘it’s dangerous’... a reason that broke down pretty quickly when Hermione pointed out the kinds of danger he’d already been through, and the amount of power he now had on his side.
When Harry had refused, Dobby had headed for the door after saying something about ‘no choice’- but Hermione had caught him by the wrist.  Dobby had apparently tried to apparate out of Hermione’s unshakable grip- even she was surprised by how strong her grip was- but her magic was apparently strong enough to block it…  which had surprised all three of them, and terrified Dobby.
She’d then explained to Dobby that she and Silversong would gladly drag Harry to Hogwarts if he didn’t go on his own.
And for some reason, Dobby had reacted with nothing short of outright alarm when she mentioned Silversong.  He’d accepted the decision after that, and left.
Hermione nodded.  “Yeah, that happened…”  Then she blinked, and facepalmed.  “...  Oh.”
“What?” Harry asked.
“I just remembered where I heard his name before.”
He tilted his head.  “Where?”
“He’s the Malfoy Family elf.”
“Ohhh,” Harry muttered, nodding slowly.  “That would explain his reaction to Silver’s name, too.”
“Hoo.”
Hermione looked at Hedwig in alarm.  “What-!  How-!”  Then she stopped herself, took a deep breath, and let it out.  “Right.  Papa Tango.  Um, yeah, it should.”
Harry tilted his head.  “What’d she ask?”
“If Dobby would still be intercepting your mail.”  She lifted the bundle of letters she’d taken from Dobby, from where she’d put them on Harry’s small desk.  “He shouldn’t be, but…”  She undid the twine, and tossed the first three letters on the stack to the side.  “Unless you really want to read whatever Ron is trying to tell you, that’s going to be of strictly limited utility.”
Harry let out a snort of laughter.  “Yeah, right.”
“Might not be a bad idea, though,” Hermione mused.  “Who knows what he’s going to let slip.  We just don’t need to reply to him.  Oh, this one’s from Hagrid.”  She sighed.  “At least you don’t seem to have any fanmail, beyond Ron’s.”  Then she paused.  “...  Huh, can’t say I expected that.  This one’s from Ron’s brothers, Fred and George.”
“It is?” Harry asked.
She nodded.  “Yep.”  She glanced at the last two letters- Harry saw Ron’s name on both of them.  “The only one from them, too- must’ve been recent.”
“Let’s give it a read, then, shall we?”
Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.  “Are you…  asking me to read your mail to you?”
Harry blinked.  “Uhh…  I guess?  I mean, why not?”
She smiled.  “Because if any of those hundreds of ‘cute couple’ complimenters find out, they’ll do that annoying ‘dawww’ thing again.  And probably louder, to boot.”
He shrugged.  “Then we don’t have to tell anyone.”  He glanced at the bed.  “Shall we use the bed?”
She grinned.  “You mean to read the letters, right?”
He blinked.  “Uh…  yeah?  What else…?”
She blushed lightly.  “Oh, nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow.  “That wasn’t nothing.”
“And if it was that not-nothing, the answer would’ve been no anyways, because we’re not ready for that.”
He tilted his head.  “What?”
“For a few years yet.”
“I…  don’t get it.”
She looked at him.  “You don’t…?  Don’t you know what boys and girls- especially teenage ones- usually get up to when they’re on a bed together?”
He thought for a couple seconds, but came up empty-handed.  He shrugged.  “No idea.”
“You don’t know,” Hermione muttered, sounding surprised.  She looked at Hedwig.  “I mean, you know what I’m talking about, right?”
“Hoo.”  Harry could swear the owl was blushing too.
“See?  Even Hedwig gets it!”
“What is it?”
She heaved a sigh.  “Alright then, let’s see if I can clue you in.”  She looked around the room.  “Well…  Just yesterday, I realized the Papa Tango also kick-started my puberty.”
“Uh…  what’s that?”
Hermione’s hand went straight to her forehead, and she dropped down flat on the bed.  “He doesn’t know,” she told the ceiling.  “He has no idea.”
“You’re starting to make me feel like I did when Hagrid showed up with my letter last year,” Harry complained.
“Hoo.”
Hermione sat up, and blushed.  “Well…  yes, actually.  But the Equestrian version is a lot gentler than the human version, so I don’t have to worry about it.”
Harry blinked.  “Equestrian version of what?”
Hermione looked at him.  “Um…  How about…  nah.  I’ll tell you in a few years, and let you keep your youthful innocence for now.”
“Hoo.”
She looked at Hedwig.  “Yep!”  Then she tilted her head.  “I wonder if Silver knows…?”
Hedwig let out an unmistakable bark of laughter.  Hermione started giggling.
Harry just stared.
> Chapter 42
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Psst, Ginny!”
Ginny paused on her way past the Twins’ bedroom, and looked at the door, where Fred was gesturing to her.  “Mm?” she muttered.
Fred brandished a sealed letter; her quick eyes spotted the name ‘Potter’ on the outside.  “C’mon,” he hissed.  “You’re going to want to see this.”
She raised an eyebrow, and followed him back into his room.  “Wasn’t Ron…?”  She knew the Plan didn’t involve Fred or George sending Harry any letters- only Ron.  Ron, her least favorite brother, who was supposed to be Harry’s best friend.  She was not looking forward to her own first meeting with Harry the following day; Fred, George, and Ron would be going to get him that night.
George shook his head.  “According to the Plan, yeah, but in reality, he was a little late- so he and Harry are most definitely not friends.”
Ginny winced.  “How’s that going to affect the plan?”
Fred snorted.  “Oh, the Plan is already toast.  Dumbledore still insists on it, though, so we’ve been piecing together what parts of it we can; Harry has been following fairly close to his planned path entirely on his own, so that’s helped.”
“Doesn’t this part of the plan hinge on Ron…?”
George nodded.  “Yep.  Most of the plan does, actually.  Since Ron earned Harry’s animosity, the non-response to his letters is absolutely not suspicious.  We’re actually rather surprised he hasn’t gotten a howler back, with how much he must be bothering Harry.”
“So we sent him a letter last week,” Fred informed her.  “Asked him a few things.”  He tapped the letter in his hands.  “He did reply, soo…”
“We might still go get him tonight,” George stated.  “But we also might not.  Depends on what he wrote.”
“Did you want to read what we sent him first, or…?” Fred offered.
She raised an eyebrow.  “You kept it?”
“We made a copy before we sent it,” George answered.  “We wanted to be ready for something like this.”
She shrugged.  “Sure, I guess.”





Dear Harry,
Firstly, Ron hasn’t been bothering you too much with his letters, has he?
We hope he hasn’t been.  As you know, he’s got a pretty thick skull- and remains determined to just ‘be’ your friend.  Doesn’t exactly help that Dumbledore keeps encouraging him.  At least Mom hasn’t been doing that- as a matter of fact, she’s been mostly just watching on that front.  We think she’s conflicted on the matter, and starting to wonder if Dumbledore really knows what Ron is doing.
So, to explain that.  We didn’t find out what Dumbledore’s plans for the summer were until we got home…  and to our knowledge, they haven’t changed since.
The thing is…  According to the Plan, your mail should be being intercepted.  We don’t know how, or by whom.  Ron should be sending lots of letters- which, as I’m sure you know if you’re reading this, he has been.  He’s not supposed to be getting responses- which he hasn’t.  That’s supposed to be suspicious…
Which it totally is not, because we know he’s not really your best friend.  Anyways, Dumbledore’s plan was very specific that we- Ron and us Twins- set out the night of August 3rd to ‘rescue’ you with Dad’s flying car.  He’s even given us an aerial map of Little Whinging, your house labeled, and a window map to tell which one is your bedroom.  And he told us to expect to have to pull iron bars out of the window before we could get you out.  Are the Dursleys really that bad…?
Just in case they are, we’ll be coming to perform the rescue anyways- with Ginny instead of Ron- on schedule, unless you indicate otherwise before the evening of August 3rd.  Unlike Ron, she’s very smart, and self-driven.  We wouldn’t be surprised if she gets selected as a student instructor- she might even be able to give Hermione a run for her money.  Unfortunately, she grew up in a wizarding family, and so is subject to Wizarding Common Knowledge.  Which Hermione has aptly demonstrated to be false multiple times during the year, and we wouldn’t be surprised if she’s done it again this summer at least once already.
And of course, if we arrive and you’re doing fine, we’ll turn back empty-handed.  No need to force you into anything you don’t want to do; we’re sure Mom can deal with the upset to the Plan, even if she- as the Plan calls for- catches us returning home at the crack of dawn.
Anyways.
If we don’t make the rescue, we’re sure you know what it’s going to look like for you.  No change, really.
If we do, you’d spend the rest of August living at our house.  The Plan calls for you to sleep in Ron’s room, but you probably wouldn’t be happy with that.  Speaking of which, Ron might be a bit thick, but Lyra says it’s learned stupidity- according to her, he’s actually pretty smart ‘under the hood’, he’s just learned not to use his smarts.  That would certainly explain how he can be such a dim-wit, yet still demolish anyone that dares challenge him to a game of chess.  She said something about it taking a few years to ‘teach him to be smart’- we suppose we’ll see how well that works.
In any case, we suppose we will have to wait until you’re in the car before we answer that question, if we do end up performing the rescue- and simply never answer it if we don’t.
If it happens, you’d get to meet the rest of our family.  Well, most of the rest; Bill and Charlie are still in Egypt and Romania, and we expect them to stay there for the rest of the summer at least.  We’re sure you’ve already met us and Ron, and probably at least recognize Percy the Perfect Prefect.  That really only leaves Mom, Dad, and Ginny.
As you may or may not know, Dad works at the Ministry of Magic, in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.  He’s definitely in Dumbledore’s court; we don’t think he’s aware of the Plan, except maybe peripherally.  He doesn’t play really any part in it right now anyways, so we’re not sure if it even matters.
Mom…  Well, she believes in Dumbledore even more than Dad does.  Seems to think he’s infallible.  She’s been following his Plan for as long as we can remember.  She’s been reluctant at times, especially once Dumbledore decided that you should be marrying Ginny after Hogwarts, but we don’t think there’s been even one time when she hasn’t done exactly what Dumbledore asked her to in the end.  We think she doesn’t see any other option to avoid the horror of a second Wizarding War, even though we’ve told her about the Equestrians.  In either case, if you do meet her, she’s very nice, and will no doubt try to pamper you.  We think she’s heard about the conditions at the Dursleys, probably from Dumbledore, and may go a little overboard in trying to reverse it.
Ginny is…  different.  She used to be a pretty normal red-haired girl, following in Ron’s footsteps- including the learned stupidity- then she…  changed, somehow, right about three years ago, when she turned eight.  Ever since, she’s been a very smart, self-driven little read-headed girl, with very little tolerance for stupidity.  She’s about the only one we’ve ever seen that can beat Ron at chess with any kind of regularity- though when she does that, she seems bored, like Ron is as predictable as the color of her red hair.  We’ve taken notes during a couple of their games- and we’re starting to think there might be some truth to that.
Anyways, she’s very sweet, and kind, and red-haired.  And we kinda have to agree with Dumbledore- she’d probably make the perfect wife for you, with only one exception.  It’s not her red hair- no, back at King’s Cross last year, she had an instant crush on some black-haired muggleborn boy that nobody recognized.  Oh, and you seem to have already found someone.  Ever since, we think she’s been debating between complying with Dumbledore’s plan and abandoning it for that boy.  It’s mildly concerning- and with how badly the Plan has been thrown off already, we’re hoping she chooses what’s best for her.  And did we mention she has red hair?
According to the Plan, after our ‘rescue’, you would be sleeping in Ron’s room, and she’s supposed to act overly shy around you- staring dreamily at you, sticking her elbow in the butter dish.  That’s explicit, believe it or not- no idea why.  She’s also supposed to peek at you from behind her bedroom door every time you pass, and close the door whenever you look at her.  Makes no sense if you ask us.
Then he said something about ‘after the altercation in Diagon Alley’ and some Lockhart books.  We understand Mom argued with him over that for a while, but we’re not sure why- she adores Lockhart.  Mom does, that is- we don’t get the idea Ginny appreciates his books very much at all.  If you’re wondering why he came up in Dumbledore’s plan, we’re wondering that too.
So, please let us know.
Fred and George.





“Did…  Did you have to keep telling him how red my hair is?” Ginny asked, her cheeks not quite as red as her hair.  In her opinion, they’d complimented her too much, made her sound better than she was.
“Well, it is pretty red,” George stated matter-of-factly.
“So,” Fred announced, waving the unopened letter from Harry towards the other two.  “Do you want to read Harry’s letter to us, or shall we read it to you?”
Ginny took a deep breath, then held out her hand.  “If you’re offering, I’ll read it to you,” she stated.  This would be the first time she’d ever interacted with Harry Potter, even indirectly- and she was immensely curious what she could learn about him just from how he wrote the letter.  She knew the answer would be significant- she’d seen lots of different letters written by lots of different people, and had noticed the differences.
She wasn’t willing to trust the obviously-mistaken Dumbledore to have it right.  His ‘Plan’ hadn’t accounted for so many factors that had appeared ever since Ron- and, by extension, Harry- first went to Hogwarts, and he hadn’t revised it.
She had to remind herself that Fred and George had not been informed of the marriage contract, only that Dumbledore meant for her to marry Harry.





Dear Fred and George,
Interesting you should mention that.  Ron’s letters haven’t been bothering me…  mainly because I haven’t been receiving them.  As Dumbledore planned, someone was intercepting my mail.  However, since it was a friend’s house elf, that was a fairly easy fix.  And did you know Hermione can block a house elf from teleporting?
Anyways, Ron’s letters were amusing, for the most part.  Every last one started with “I know you’ll never read this, but I need to write it anyways”.  From his letters, it seems he’s aware that my mail was being intercepted, so he’s told us about just about everything he could think of.  Apparently, Ginny’s ability to crush him and only him at chess, without any apparent effort, infuriates him to no end.  He said she’s normally not all that good at it, when playing against other people.  That’s really interesting- and definitely points towards the predictable aspect, doesn’t it?
It also suggests she’s good at spotting patterns and predicting, as well.
And for your information:  No, the Dursleys are not that bad.  As it turns out, I have some kind of…  aura, that only seems to affect muggles, and makes them hate me.  They’ve figured it out, though, and are actively working to counter it.  I’m helping, as much as I can.  Had they not figured it out, I don’t doubt Vernon would’ve installed bars in my window or something by now.  Probably just yesterday, in fact- August 1st, the day after we caught the house elf.
Speaking of which, no, a rescue won’t be necessary.  But we’d welcome a visit sometime- just remember to let us know when, bring a licensed driver, and follow the roads at ground level.  Oh, and don’t use magic while you’re here.
Is it just me, or would that flying car fall under the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?  If so, that’s a nicely ironic job for him to have.  I wonder if Dumbledore planned it?
Let’s face it, he probably did.
And did you have to tell us about Ginny’s red hair quite that many times?  We already know you ALL have red hair!
Her choice of people to have a crush on is…  interesting, to say the least.  I mean to say, completely independent of anything Dumbledore might have wanted, it very well might have been me.  It really depends on where, specifically, it was.
If it was in King’s Cross, before entering Platform Nine and Three Quarters, I was a lonely, black-haired boy in baggy clothes that nobody recognized.  I think it was even your family that I asked for help getting onto the station.
If it was on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, though, that description no longer applies.  Both Hermione and Lyra recognized me there.
If it does happen to be me, though, tell her not to be disheartened- I mean, if the magic has anything to say about it, I’ll be marrying no less than three girls already.  None of which are Ginny…  but all three of them tell me it doesn’t feel complete with just the four of us, so it’s entirely possible she’ll be able to get in on the party too.  And before you roll your eyes, all three of them either (1) Are Equestrian, or (2) have gone through the Papa Tango.  As such, all three of them have Equestrian magic- which includes some kind of ‘family-finding’ magic that blocks them from getting instant crushes that wouldn’t pan out, and gives them instant crushes on their true love.  It’s…  not a perfect description, but it’s close enough.  I haven’t felt it myself, since I lack the Equestrian magic, but they’ve all, ahh, felt it for each other as well; Lyra tells me it’s very, very rare for even a large, polygamous family brought together in that way to not have mutual love in all cases.  Like, once in a thousand years or so, she said.
And that in a magical population several times that of Wizarding Britain.
That said, the Lockhart mention is certainly very strange.  Hermione’s been spending much of the last two weeks in Diagon Alley with Lyra; they’ve scoped out some six or seven potential British student instructors…  But, neither mine nor Hermione’s second-year letters have arrived yet.  We’ve already gotten our books, which does include most of Gilderoy Lockhart’s books, but…
We’ve also heard that Silversong hasn’t gotten her letter yet, either.  Also an easy fix, since the second-year letters are all the same anyways- but it’s already at the end of the shopping season.  Did Dumbledore plan for us all to be a bit late in the shopping season?
Anyways, the main shopping season is over, so Hermione’s come home for the season.  Lyra’s still going to camp the Leaky Cauldron for another week, though, just in case there’s a good candidate amongst the stragglers.  Which, if you haven’t gotten your letters yet either, could include Ginny.
Hope you’re having a good summer,
Harry, and Hermione.





“...  Well?” Fred asked, as Ginny slowly lowered the letter.  She’d started by reading it to them, but had trailed off and started reading it silently within the first couple of paragraphs.
“You’re bright red,” George observed.
“I know!” she barked, making him flinch.  Then she took a deep breath.  “...  Sorry.”  She held the letter out for them to take.  She took another deep breath and, as they started reading it themselves, reading alternate sentences to each other, she spoke up again, in a mutter.  “Is…  Is polygamy even legal?”
“Polyg-?” Fred began, before exchanging a glance with George.  They then put their heads together, and started reading it faster.  They were still alternating sentences to each other, but much faster, and a little bit louder, too.  The parchment was about a foot from their faces.
Ginny stared blankly at the back of the letter while they scanned it.  Harry had already met three other girls.  If she got sucked into a polygamous marriage because of the contract, it’d be a lot harder to get away and follow her heart.
She also wouldn’t be forced to interact with him as much.
But his description of himself at King’s Cross the year before almost perfectly matched her memory of the boy her heart had leaped for.  He’d even asked her family for instructions!
Meaning…  it was entirely possible that Harry was the one her heart had leaped for.
Which could be a good thing, in that she wouldn’t have to go against the contract…
And a bad thing, both in that he might feel obligated to marry her because of the contract, and that if he was going to be in a polygamous marriage, she wouldn’t be able to be with him as much.  She rather doubted her heart would leap for his other wives-to-be, whoever they were, as well.
She hoped he was joking.
Fred and George finally got to the bottom of the letter, and lowered it together.

“...  Oh, uhh,” they began, slowly.  “Um…   Oh.”
> Chapter 43
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny was nervous when Fred and George sent her to Diagon Alley ahead of the rest of her family.  She stepped out of the flu in the Leaky Cauldron- then stepped to the side and looked around.
It was…  oddly unfamiliar, and yet also familiar.  She recognized the building- but it was very, very different without the party it’d had the year prior.
She wasn’t sure she liked the difference.
Very suddenly, a girl with blue and white hair stepped up to greet her.  The girl was about her age, and offering her a hand to shake.  “Well hello there,” she greeted.  “You must be Ginny Weasley?”
“Uh,” she muttered uncertainly.  Who was this girl?  Next to her, the fireplace roared green once again- that would be Fred, who had promised he’d be right behind her.  She racked her memory- and quickly realized she’d seen this girl before.  Only once, and only a glimpse.  She’d been in one of the side booths the year before.
It didn’t give her any more clue as to who the girl was, though.  The hair rather strongly suggested she was an Equestrian- not that that meant much to her.
Then Fred stepped clear of the fireplace.  “Oh, hi Lyra.  This is our sister Ginny.  And Ginny, this is Lyra Heartstrings.”
Ginny blinked, her jaw articulating up and down for a couple seconds, questions chasing each other through her mind like a bunch of seekers that each thought the one in front of them was the snitch.  “Oh.  Um…”  She looked down, fumbling with her fingers, and selected a question.  There was something Harry had mentioned, in his letter, that sounded mighty helpful.  And, she’d known- for the last couple months- who controlled it.  She took a deep breath, blushed like the setting sun, and spoke very rapidly.
“Can I go through the Papa Tango?”
“What?” George, who was stepping out of the fireplace, asked.
Fred didn’t speak at all.
Neither did Lyra.  She was silent for a good four or five seconds.  “...  Well,” she eventually muttered.  “I…  I didn’t expect that, that’s for sure.  Um…”  She paused.  “I mean, I did just finish the latest upgrades last night, making it ready for the next test subject, but…  Er, you do know what it entails, right?”
Her blush intensified, and she shook her head.
“Test subject?” Fred asked.
Lyra nodded.  “Yeah.  It hasn’t been finalized yet, so everyone that goes through it is a test subject, voluntary or not.  No danger or anything- and if I’m right, it’s pretty close to its final form.”  She scowled.  “Hmm…  How about this, Ginny:  I’ll stop by your house once I’m done here, and drag Hermione- the most recent person to go through it- with me.  We can discuss the details then, including what to expect- and we will even still have time to get you through it in time for the school year, if you so decide.  That work?”
She nodded.  “Yeah,” she muttered, very softly, and took a deep breath.
Lyra looked up at the twins; none of the others would be following for a minute or two.  “Is that going to be okay with…?”
Fred nodded.  “Yeah,” he shrugged.
“Mom loves visitors,” George agreed.
“Do you know where we live?” Fred asked.
Lyra grinned.  “Yep.  We actually chanced across The Burrow during one of our tourist trips a month or so ago.  Soo…  Hogwarts shopping?”
George nodded.  “Yep!  Just got our letters.  A shame we can’t shop with Harry, really.”
Lyra shrugged.  “I guess you can’t have everything, can you?  They shopped about two weeks ago.”  Then she scowled.  “And why would it have taken that long for your letters…?”
Fred shrugged.  “We think it’s The Plan.”
Lyra facepalmed.  “Right.  He hasn’t cancelled or rebuilt that obsolescent monstrosity yet, has he?”
George shook his head.  “Not that we’re aware of.”
Ginny quickly decided that it was rapidly becoming the weirdest day of her life…  so far, including the day the goddess had spoken to her.  That had been a very weird day, but she saw weirder coming.





Morning Sun took a deep breath, looking in the mirror.  She was in the restroom at Flourish and Blotts; she’d asked for the public restroom, and been pointed to it.  Fortunately, it was also a single-occupancy restroom, so nopony- and nobody- would have noticed the peculiarity of what she was doing.
The need to do it had surprised even her; she normally had no use for a restroom, like the rest of her kind.  But…  Well, she was an emotivore.  And while Equestrian emotional energy was generally closely guarded and stored until it withered away, British emotional energy was stored in far smaller quantities in their forms- and broadcast into the environment around them.  As such, thanks to a much higher decay rate in the atmosphere, far less emotional energy was present in Britain, overall- but what there was of it was free for the taking.  British people even produced, by her best guess, something like a hundred times as much, on average, as a comparable Equestrian.
The British world was a veritable treasure trove for an emotivore like her.  However, she found herself absorbing too much- and unfortunately, she couldn’t stop herself from absorbing more.  So, she had to vent it in the only way she knew how:  Converting it into the so-called ‘love jelly’- that wasn’t what it was at all, but love was the strongest emotion available to them, so that’s what it got called- and expelling it from her mouth.
And doing that into a toilet in Equestria would have been an egregious waste.  Unfortunately, the stuff was very easy to recognize- so any Equestrian seeing it at all would instantly know what she was…  and that would be the end of her.
She was fairly sure the British people wouldn’t recognize it, but they would mention it to an Equestrian at some point, so she had to keep it hidden from them too.
She grinned at herself in the mirror.  The mirror didn’t grin back- instead, her reflection did.  She’d disabled that enchantment immediately after closing the door, and would be re-enabling it on her way back out.
It was hard to believe just how she’d gotten here.  She’d spent nearly two years trying to get by in Manehattan, then moved to Ponyville, since she was seen as a weirdo and weirdos were the norm in Ponyville, everypony knew that.
Then, no less than one month after she’d moved, she’d gotten a letter from Hogwarts.
It had confused her.  The owl that delivered the letter had cheerfully explained it for her.
She’d decided she’d like to go, and answered to that effect…  then avoided the massive throngs of ponies going through the magic gateway in the basement of the Crystal Castle.
Finally, early that morning, Lyra Heartstrings had stopped by, asked about her Hogwarts letter, and explained what they were doing to make it possible.
So, she’d gone through the gateway as one of the ‘stragglers’.  She’d told the mare that she didn’t like big crowds, as her reason for not having gone through during the rush.
Once on this side, she- and about two dozen pony stragglers- had been taken to the Leaky Cauldron, from which Bonbon- Lyra’s marefriend- had guided them first to Gringotts Bank, then to Ollivander’s, and helped them through both.  The latter had involved Starlight Glimmer and some creative time travel.
Finally, Bonbon had turned them loose.  Everything else, she said, they could get in whatever order they wanted, and whatever time they wanted, since they didn’t have to deal with large crowds of Equestrians any more.
Flourish and Blotts had then been both on her list and conveniently close, so she’d gone inside to ask for the bathroom.  She had been pretty full before coming here, as Ponyville was a lot more emotivore-friendly than Manehattan, and needed to empty out.
The bookstore had been rather noticeably more crowded than she’d been led to expect, though.
She sighed, nodded at her reflection, and turned to leave.
Then she stopped herself, hand inches from the door, to re-enable the mirror enchantment, before leaving.
She had some shopping to do- and she was curious why the shop was so crowded.  On her way to the restroom, it had seemed like there was someone popular here, so she headed in the direction of the excitement.





Ginny heaved a small sigh as her family came to a stop at the back of the crowd.  Dumbledore’s Plan had been oddly specific about this event, and simultaneously vague at the same time.
Like there was a part he didn’t want them to know about.
She scowled, holding her cauldron- with all her books and other supplies she’d gotten so far in it- in her arms.  It was heavy, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle.  What was going to happen?  She scanned the crowd around them.
Then, she saw her.
There was a girl.  Her yellow and red hair flowed down her back almost exactly like a fire, making it look like her head was on fire as she moved.
And her heart leaped for that girl.
But she couldn’t marry a girl!
The girl jumped and spun, very suddenly, as if she’d yelled.  Her hair flew around, sparkling almost exactly like a bonfire.
The girl looked straight at her, surprise and confusion showing on her face.
She blushed, looked down at her cauldron, and turned back towards the rest of her family.
How had the girl realized she was looking?





Morning Sun stared at the red-headed girl.
She’d been minding her own business, walking past on her way towards the registers with a stack of Lockhart books.  She did find it strange that there were quite so many of them on the book list- and how none of their titles seemed to have anything to do with education, unlike just about everything else on the list.
Then, she’d felt a massive surge of love, pointed directly at her, from that girl.
It startled her, of course.  And surprised her, and confused her.  As near as she could tell, the girl genuinely loved her.
And, judging by her reaction when she looked at her, felt it too.
She hadn’t realized it was even possible for anypony- no, anyone, that was a British girl- to love an emotivore…  Though, when she stopped to think about it, it kinda made sense.  A British girl wouldn’t have the prejudice against her that all of ponykind did.
But how could that happen?
…  At least she knew she had been accepted in this world, as she never truly had been in Equestria.  Meaning, there had to be something she could do for this girl, as a thank-you for letting her feel accepted as she was, if nothing else.  After all, love didn’t care what form somepony- or, in her case, someling- was in, it only cared who they were.
And the direct love-bond she could feel, that had already formed, was a two-way street.  She could absorb love through it…  but she could also release excess emotional energy through it, allowing it to be vented through the girl, with no effect on the girl’s own emotional state.  Meaning, so long as she was somewhere near the girl, she needn’t worry about either starvation…  or overfilling.  It was too bad that bonds like that didn’t work over large distances, even if they were completely unbreakable, no matter the distance, except only by death.  And even then, sometimes.
Unfortunately, as she cast about for some way to properly thank the girl, she came up dry.  She didn’t know enough about her to have even the remotest clue what might-
No, she did.  The girl’s cauldron was full of second-hand books.  Her parents were there with her four older brothers, which Morning recognized by the emotional bonds, nevermind the similar hair.  They all had a certain nervousness about their emotional auras, and the way the mother kept looking nervously at the small pouch she carried in one hand sounded alarm bells.
They were poor.  The Lockhart books were expensive.
She smiled to herself, and headed for the registers.
She knew exactly how to thank the girl.
The shopkeeper was somewhat bored, at the only register, and rang her up quickly.
It was almost two and a half galleons.
As she fished out the three required coins- she only had galleons on her at the time, so she could do it by feel alone without issue- she looked over towards the red-headed girl and her family.  Would they have enough for the rest of the family?
The shopkeeper looked where she was looking- and she could tell, by his emotional spectrum, that he was looking at the same people.  “If you’re looking at the Weasleys, don’t bother.  They don’t take charity.”
She blinked, and looked at him.  “Well this isn’t charity,” she stated.  “It’s a token of gratitude.”
“You know they expect people to give them charity, and so can tend to refuse things that aren’t as well, because they think it’s a charity, right?”





Ginny twitched when she noticed the girl walking up to her, and looked up nervously.  What was she going to say?  How could she introduce herself?
The girl didn’t give her an opportunity to say anything, and instead just placed an armload of Lockhart books into her cauldron, complete with a receipt stuck between two of the books and said two words.
“Thank you.”
And, before she could say anything in response, the girl just walked away, right back into the depths of the store.
She stared, aware but not caring that her face was as hot as a furnace, until the girl disappeared into the throng gathered around the Lockhart section.
She couldn’t even imagine what the girl might have been thanking her for- but apparently, it was something important enough to the girl that she’d spend galleons on a simple thank-you gift.
And yet, the girl was a total stranger.
> Chapter 44
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Molly Weasley was uncertain, as she stepped through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters with her youngest, leaving Ron alone at King’s Cross.  She expected him to hit the barrier, and fly the car to school- such was Dumbledore’s plan.  She and Arthur had debated allowing that to happen, given the difficulties it would give Arthur at work, and finally agreed to allow it to happen.
The tricky part was that Harry wasn’t with Ron, and he was supposed to be.
She glanced down at Ginny, walking quickly next to her.  Ginny was…  anxious, it seemed.  It was certainly an improvement from the summer.
Ever since the family visit to Diagon Alley, Ginny had stayed holed up in her room almost all day every day, crying.  That was also the only time she could ever remember seeing Fred or George come to breakfast alone; it seemed they took turns spending the day with Ginny, trying to comfort her.
When Lyra and Hermione had arrived to see Ginny, Molly had entertained them for the better part of an hour while Fred headed upstairs to get his brother and sister.  The two girls talked extensively with Ginny, before disappearing with her for a couple minutes to, reportedly, ‘do the Papa Tango’.  Why they’d had to go somewhere else to do some kind of dance, she’d had no idea, and hadn’t asked.  Then Lyra had offered to make Ginny a student instructor, done some explaining, and gotten a yes.  And they’d left.
Ginny had been back to crying in her room ever since.
She’d been in contact with Dumbledore on the topic a few times.  Dumbledore was actually debating cancelling Ginny’s part of the plan, and rearranging around it, if she wasn’t able to pull herself together in time for the trip up.
Such a cancellation would involve cancelling the marriage contract, and releasing Ginny to follow her heart without worrying about such a contract, so- including in the letter she’d sent just the night before- she’d been pushing Dumbledore to cancel it, and rework around it.  If it was possible to do that, maintaining the existing plan wasn’t worth the pain it was obviously causing her daughter.
She took a deep breath, and glanced behind her, in time to spot Ron coming successfully through the barrier.
Then the whistle blew, and the same deafening noise that had drowned it out last time did it again this time, though not as much- the whistle was a lot louder this time.  One look up at the train, and…
Well, they had a lot more cars fully decorated and everything as Hogwarts Express cars this time than they did last year.  And, while she still recognized the telltale wrongness in the shape of the locomotives, three of them were painted in Hogwarts Express colors, and looked like they might actually belong there, coupled between the scarlet steam locomotive she was familiar with and the cars.
And all four scarlet locomotives seemed to have blown whistles, even though only the one had smoke coming from it…  or the ‘drive rods’ Arthur had told her about when they’d sent Bill off for his first year so long ago.  The drive rods it needed to actually move.
“Hurry up,” she told her children.  “It’s about to leave!”  She completely ignored Arthur’s fascination with the large device the man standing on the back of the nearest locomotive was showing to the normal driver of the Hogwarts Express.  Apparently, he’d pushed something on it to make all of the locomotives blow their whistles at once.





Ginny was of half a mind to just leave her trunk where it was, in the middle of the walkway at the front of the frontmost car, and go find herself an empty car to hide in.  She repeatedly reminded herself that Dumbledore, and her mother, were relying on her to be strong, but she knew that wouldn’t be enough to keep her going for very long.
It didn’t exactly help that she couldn’t lift her entire trunk.  Hermione- who her heart had leaped for as well- had said she was an ‘almost alarmingly strong specialized Aethr’, but that obviously didn’t translate into physical effort.  She’d gone through Lyra’s Papa Tango…  and nothing had happened.  The three week timer would run out the evening of the next day, but so?
So she dragged her trunk by one end, down the length of the train, looking for an empty compartment she could hole up in.
She was most determinedly not crying, but she knew people would be able to tell she had been crying recently.  She’d seen herself in the mirror, after all.
She made it to the second car without issue, and without empty compartments.  She was almost to the point of not even checking the compartments as she walked past, but she knew she’d never find an empty one if she didn’t check the compartments.
Then, she passed a small gang of upper-year students.  They were already wearing their robes, but she didn’t care enough to tell which house they were in, nor guess at which year, except to recognize that they were definitely much older than she.
Then, her ears picked out a few of the words they were saying.
“Did you see the lines on her face?  It’s almost like someone killed her owl,” one was saying, quietly.  She could at least credit him for trying to be discrete.
“Or like someone stole her spending money,” a second whispered.
A third spoke a little louder, not bothering to keep her from overhearing.  “She must’ve fallen in love with her Lockhart books,” he said.  “Then someone ruined one.”
She determinedly ignored him.  She refused to respond to her rising anger.  That’s what he no doubt wanted.
Then the fourth spoke up, and loudly.  “Nah, she must’ve fallen in love with some rich kid that didn’t love her back.  Right, Weasley?”
She closed her eyes, fighting the tears, and kept going.  He’d struck home with that.  That girl from Flourish and Blotts.  She’d fallen in love…  and all the girl had done, was to spend money on her and disappear, after saying only two words that didn’t make sense.  And in so doing, split her heart across two unknowns…  and making the full satisfaction of the same completely impossible.  She’d checked- polygamy was illegal.
Very suddenly, she ran into someone.  She was about to draw back to move around her- it felt like a girl- but she stopped herself when she felt the girl’s arms wrap around her.
Then she heard it.  That same, smooth, beautiful voice she’d only heard two words from.  Only, this time, it was marred by evident fury.
“Get.  Out.  Of.  My.  Sight.”
She knew instantly who she’d run into- and her heart leaped in response.  She dropped her trunk painfully on the back of her own foot, but she didn’t care as she wrapped her arms around the girl in turn…  and tried to comfort herself with her presence.
…  Strange.  She actually felt those boys’ fear as they fled back into their compartment.
And then, the girl spoke again, this time with concern.  “C’mon,” she said.  “Just one more car.”  She started guiding her down the passage.
As they walked, Ginny not really caring where they were going, she glanced behind them.
Her trunk was floating dutifully behind her, in a reddish-gold magic aura- but those boys were nowhere to be seen.
As they rounded the corner, she thought she saw white and light blue hair in the corner of her eye.





Morning Sun didn’t know the name of the girl she’d just rescued from those Slytherins, but she also didn’t care at the moment.
She’d arrived early, then deliberately picked a compartment at the front of the train to wait for her- for the girl she’d crossed paths with in Flourish and Blotts.  She’d had time to analyze and understand her feelings, and found that she loved the girl in turn.  Which wasn’t surprising, given that it was the herding magic and even her kind had that.  Unfortunately, though, her own love didn’t produce emotional energy.
Not that she cared, in the end; the girl produced enough of that energy to feed an entire hive all on her own.
Then, she’d finally detected the girl’s emotional signature.
The only word she could think of to describe the girl’s emotional state was…  heartbroken.
So, she came running.
And just in time.  Those Slytherins had been insulting her, hurting her even more.  Their fear had climbed on its own a little more than she’d expected when she ordered them to leave- but still not enough.
So she’d taken advantage of her unique ability as an emotovore.  She converted some of the love energy coming from the girl into fear energy, which she then poured straight into those boys.  By doing that, pouring specific emotional energies into another being, she could manipulate their emotional state.  It was utterly useless against other emotovores, as they wouldn’t be affected by it, and it was a losing proposition in terms of energy; they wouldn’t produce nearly as much as she’d burned before the induced emotion faded away.
But, it did what she needed it to.  Those boys were instantly and absolutely terrified, and fled back into their compartment.  That technique had been known to be used by the elite, back in Equestria, to annul any suspicion against them, and rapidly build trust with their targets.
She held the girl close, as she guided her back to her compartment, the girl’s luggage floating behind her in her magic aura.
As she walked, she noticed a second love bond coming from the girl, but she didn’t recognize the signature it was pointed at.
> Chapter 45
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dumbledore winced.
He, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey were all watching the floating image produced by his scrying spell, watching Hogsmeade Station.  He wasn’t sure why Professor Snape was so interested in watching it with him, but he at least understood the other two.
He was, after all, watching for the youngest Weasley, in an attempt to ascertain her mental state.  To determine if she was still stable enough to play her part in the Plan…  which, the more he thought about it, the more he realized at least part of it needed some reworking anyways.
And he winced…  because he’d spotted the Weasley girl stepping out of the train, practically glued to the side of that Equestrian girl.  He had to admit, she looked a lot better than Molly Weasley’s description of her- but it was clear she was only functioning because she was actively fighting the tears…  and because of that Equestrian girl’s presence.  The girl was obviously comforting her.
Madam Pomfrey let out a sigh.  It wasn’t a happy or relieved sigh, but it wasn’t far from either of the two.  “Well, at least she’s already found a friend,” she stated.  “That’ll make things a lot easier.”
“...  What could have hurt her that bad?” McGonagall asked, sounding part worried, and part angry- a very unusual combination, for her.
“No idea,” Snape declared.  “But let’s hope that’s a Gryffindor Equestrian.”
“Oh, yes, definitely,” Madam Pomfrey agreed vehemently.  “Splitting them up now could deal a fatal blow to Miss Weasley’s psyche.  Hopefully recoverable, if we get Twilight’s people to schedule them together as much as they can, but…”
“In any case,” Dumbledore mumbled.  “I’ll have to cut her out of the Plan.  Which means…”  He turned to start rifling through the ancient pages of his plan.  “Which means…”  He winced again.  There were so many elements he’d written into the Plan almost nine years ago that hinged on Ginerva.
Finally, he sighed, and pushed the entire thing aside.  So much had changed that he’d have to start over…  completely.
Which meant, he needed to come up with something to deal with this year’s problem…  which hinged on Ginerva.  So, he needed to find out if Riddle’s diary had made its way into her possession or not, as a first priority.
Then the warning signal came through the Castle Wards, making him and both Heads of House look up.
“They’re at the lake,” Snape muttered.  “We’d better get moving.”





Ginny was only barely conscious of her surroundings for quite a while.  Once the strange girl had led her into an empty compartment and closed the door, she’d started crying again, all over the girl’s shoulder.
The girl hadn’t cared.  As a matter of fact, Ginny had a vague feeling that’s what the girl wanted her to do.
The girl had held her, rocked her gently, and even sang soft lullabies to her as she cried.  So, at some point, she’d stopped simply crying and started talking.  She was still crying, but it helped.
The girl had listened.  She’d told her about way more than she probably should have, but she didn’t care.  She’d stopped caring almost a month prior.
Then they’d walked somewhere.  She hadn’t paid any attention to where.  They were surrounded by people now, so she’d stopped talking.  She had finished crying as well- something that genuinely surprised her.  She hadn’t expected to finish crying for years, only to suppress it.  And even then.
“So,” the girl finally muttered, sounding slightly uneasy.
She pulled back to look into the girl’s face.  “What’s wrong?”  They were standing in place, so they had their arms wrapped around each other.
The girl smiled.  “Nothing is.  Just…”  She sighed.  “I…”  She frowned, like she was thinking very hard.  “Um…  I’m Morning Sun.  What might…?”  She trailed off, looking curiously at her.
She blinked.  She’d told this girl- Morning Sun- just about everything about herself and her problems, but she’d forgotten to tell her her name?  She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks again, and looked down.  “S-Sorry,” she muttered.
“No, no, it’s not a problem,” Morning cooed, pulling her close again and patting the back of her head with one hand.  “It’s just…  the Sorting Ceremony is up next, and…”
“What-!?” she gasped, pulling back and looking around wildly.  They were in a large, stone room, with a couple wooden doors leading out of it.  They were standing in the midst of a sea of black robes and hats.
She squeaked.  She’d forgotten to change!
Then she looked down.
…  She was also wearing black robes.  And when she reached up to the top of her head, she found a pointed black hat.
“What…?”
“I, ah, helped you change,” Morning muttered very quietly, directly into her ear.  “While you were distracted, on the train.”
She blushed even harder, and hugged Morning once again.  “Th-Thanks,” she stammered.  Then she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.  “G-Ginny.  Ginny Weasley.”
Morning smiled.  “Nice name.  And did you know, polygamy is not only legal but normal in Equestria?”
She pulled back once again, to look into Morning’s eyes.  “What-!?”
At that very moment, a door opened.  “Follow me.”  The voice reminded Ginny immediately of the goddess that had spoken to her years before- though it wasn’t quite the same.





The Sorting Hat was having a good day.  This year, not only did everyone sing along with her song, but she even had instrumental accompaniment.  Then, she’d had wave after wave of cheerful Equestrians to work her way through.
She was just thinking that nothing of all that much note was going to happen this time around when Professor McGonagall called “Sun, Morning”.
She’d noticed the same anti-legilimency spell blanketing all the first-years again this year- and this time, it was already in effect before the first one entered the room.  As a matter of fact, when she looked around the Great Hall, it looked like it blanketed the entire student body, including the upper-year students!
Then Morning Sun stepped free of the throng of waiting students.  She was immediately reminded of Sunset Shimmer the year before- the resemblance was very strong, though not so close that they’d be mistaken for each other too easily.  She was mildly curious how that had happened, since Sunset hadn’t been aware of any siblings.
Then, there was the way Morning Sun moved.  It was distinctly hurried, and she could see the worry on the girl’s face.
Oh, and the way that Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape all stiffened slightly, flickers of worry crossing their faces, when they saw the girl.
Then, she landed on Morning Sun’s head.  She expected to see the girl’s worry at the forefront, but she didn’t.
Gryffindor, please.
She paused, briefly confused.  The girl’s mind, at a mere glance, would’ve been enough to warrant an instant sort into Ravenclaw…  but she was asking for Gryffindor.
“Are you sure?” she asked.  “You’d fit in better in Ravenclaw.”
I’m sure.  Gryffindor, please.  She needs me.
“She-?”  She dug a little bit deeper, realized that the girl wasn’t the Raeth she’d originally taken her for, and discovered who and what she was talking about.  She also saw that the girl was an even better fit for Ravenclaw than she’d first thought.  “Oh.  You will be able to reach her, even from Ravenclaw, you know.”
Gryffindor, please.
“And this is your future you’re…?”
Please?
“Alright then.  GRYFFINDOR!”





“Weasley, Ginerva.”
The Sorting Hat watched calmly as all three Professors- Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape- watched nervously, even concernedly.
Then Ginerva stepped out of the crowd.  As expected of the final Weasley child, the girl had flaming red hair, and wore an expression of nervousness.  But the girl’s very existence was cause to wonder, for the Malfoy line wasn’t the only one to carry a House Curse.
The Weasley Family also carried a House Curse.  This one didn’t attack their hair and make them infertile after the first male heir, like the Malfoy Curse did- no.  All Weasleys were forever doomed to only have male offspring.
Thus, the very fact that Ginerva wasn’t male made her very curious how that had happened.  It had happened long before Lyra’s Papa Tango had made it possible for Draco Malfoy- now Silversong- so outright ignore her House Curse.
Then, she landed on the girl’s head, fully expecting to sort her into the same house as every other Weasley in the last two hundred years or so.  The first thing she saw, however, was the blessing of the Goddess.
The next thing she saw was just how much pain the girl was under.  It stunned her for a couple seconds.
Um, Gryffindor?  Even her thoughts sounded terrified.
She dug deep enough to see her bond to Morning Sun…  and promptly agreed with Morning.  Yes, Ginny did need her.
“Sorry about that,” she began.  “And congratulations on the Goddess’ blessing, I suppose.  And don’t worry, you’re definitely a Gryffindor.  Before I announce it, though, there’s something I need to ask you.”
The relief flowing through the girl was palpable- she knew she wouldn’t be separated from Morning, her new best friend.  What is it?
“Well, I actually control the sleeping arrangements as well, soo…  You’ve got two choices:  I can put you with the other British first years, or I can put you with Morning Sun, in the Equestrian dorms.”
What-?  But I don’t want to bother-!
“Don’t worry about that.  She was planning on offering that to you herself.  And there won’t be anyone else to bother, since the Equestrian dorms are five beds to a room, and Morning was going to have an entire room to herself already.”
Then…  If-  If-
She chuckled.  “Yes, she’ll be happy to have you.  GRYFFINDOR!”
> Chapter 46
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny was in the middle of taking the opportunity Morning was giving her to fully relax when her newfound peace was interrupted once again.  The seats at the long House tables were benches, so she’d sat right next to Morning- and the two had wrapped their near arms around each other.  Neither had released the other since; Morning’s Raeth magic was enough to serve them both when the time came…  then, Morning fed Ginny anyways.  She’d noticed that the girl didn’t seem to be eating much herself- just a couple bites every now and then.  She didn’t know why…  and in the end, she wasn’t sure that she even cared, so long as the girl wasn’t starving herself.
“Uh, Hi,” Lyra said, having sat next to her.  “Ginny.  Morning.”  She took a deep breath, and her tone went from uncertain to concerned in a heartbeat.  “Are you doing alright?”
Ginny looked at her.  “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean…”  Lyra began, once again uncertain.  “You…  You looked mighty upset on the train.  Are you okay, or…?”
She blushed.  “Oh, no, I’m fine,” she declared.
Morning Sun chuckled lightly.  “I’d say the scare is certainly over, but it takes a lot longer than an hour to fully recover from that much sorrow.”  As she spoke, she squoze Ginny softly with the arm still wrapped around her.
Ginny smiled in response, leaning into Morning, and squeezing back.  She knew it wouldn’t last forever- it couldn’t, after all- but at least she knew it’d come back.
Lyra nodded softly.  “I thought that might be the case.  So, um…  the instructor assignments.”
Ginny winced, reminded that she’d have to leave Morning for classes.  She didn’t look forward to it.
Morning stiffened.  “Yes?” she prompted cautiously.
“Well,” Lyra muttered, pausing briefly to scowl at the table.  “I…  As promised, if you want out, you’ve got it.  Both of you.”
Ginny blinked, then turned to look up at Morning.  Did Morning accept it too?
Morning must’ve seen the fear in her eyes, because she dumped the fork on the plate to hug her with both arms.  “I expect we’ll both be cancelling, then,” she stated softly.
Lyra bowed her head.  “About that, actually.  We’ve…  already elected to match your schedules to each other, so you’ll probably be able to trade and never notice the difference.  So, I…  I wanted to offer you a little bit of an, ahh, alteration, to the normal instructor pattern as well.”
Morning tilted her head.  “...  I’m listening.”
“I…  We talked about it, and it was approved- so…  If you want to go in as an instructor team- meaning, same Instructor Course, same class assignment, working with each other to teach the same class- we can do that.  The only required separation would then be a single hour during the Instructor Course, so we can test you individually- but that’s going to be little different from being in just the other room.  Is that something…?”
Morning raised an eyebrow.  “I thought the instructor teams were supposed to be composed of students from different houses?”
Lyra shrugged.  “Normally, yeah, but we’ve got only three Slytherin instructors for your year, and well over two thirds of the remainder are Ravenclaws.  Plus, we’re actually more than a little short on student instructors, so we’re breaking that rule- and we’re also supplementing with a few from our year.  Don’t worry, it’s not an unmanageable deficiency.”
“Well…”  Morning looked down at Ginny.
Ginny looked up at her, and hugged her with both arms as well.  “Why not?” she muttered.
Morning smiled, and looked back up at Lyra.  “Alright, you’ve got a team.  It might take a couple days for her to fully recover, though, so…”
Lyra nodded.  “No problem.  First year Charms and Transfiguration are both late in the week this year anyways.”
Morning raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?”
Lyra nodded.  “Yeah…  Before any of this came to light, we were planning to offer Ginny a Charms position, and you a Transfiguration position.”
She let out a snort of laughter.  Ginny didn’t see what was so funny.
Lyra grinned as well.  “So anyways, seeing as how close of a race it is between those two subjects for either of you, I guess I’m offering both.”
Ginny looked into Morning’s eyes for a second, then back at Lyra.  “Whichever one makes things easier for you.”
“Uhh,” Lyra muttered.  “They both do.”
“...  Oh.  Um…”  She looked at Morning again.  “Transfiguration should be fine.  Right?”
Morning nodded, and there was amusement in her voice as she answered.  “Yep.”
“Alright then,” Lyra nodded.  “Um…  I’ll catch up to you later, in the Common Room, with the details…  and for your final decision.”
Ginny looked at Morning.  “Was that not final enough…?”
Morning shrugged, lifting the fork once again.  “It’s a year-long commitment, with basically no way out, so they like to verify…  several times.  Potatoes?”





“Hey Ginny.”
Ginny looked up; she recognized the voice.  It was Hermione…  whose hair was even redder than hers, if she ignored the icy blue fringes.  “Hi,” she greeted.
Then Morning flinched.  She might not have noticed it, had she not been sitting right up against her, in the same chair.  They were in the common room, some ten minutes after dinner; neither she nor Morning had been tired enough to go up to bed right away.  Lyra had appeared a minute or two after they arrived, and they’d agreed to be instructors.
She looked at Morning.  “Something wrong?”
“No, it’s just…”  Morning muttered.  “Back when I first met you, in Flourish and Blotts.”
Ginny winced as the memory brought with it an echo of the pain from the month prior.  Interestingly enough, she felt Morning wince in time with her.
“Back then…  Before I met you, I was convinced no one would ever love me, and that I would never fit in.  Then, I met you, and…”  She took a deep breath, and looked at Hermione.  “They’re calling it ‘family magic’ on this side, right?”
Hermione shrugged.  “It’s gone by a few different names, but yeah.”
“What’s it called on the other side?”
“...  I’m afraid its proper name is actually an Equestrian National Secret, so I can’t tell you out here.  But anyways, that’s the magic that helps us find our, ah, soulmates, I suppose.  When I ran into you, I felt it for the first time in my life, and…”  She sighed.  “For the first time in my life, I felt like the world had accepted me, like I had a place in it.  That’s…  why I gave you those books.  Then I went home, and spent a few days sorting out my feelings, and understanding what the, er, family magic was telling me.  That’s why I was waiting for you on the Hogwarts Express.”  She took a deep breath.  “And now…”
“Felt it again?” Hermione smiled.
“...  Yeah.”
Hermione nodded.  “I thought you might.  I mean, I felt it, soo…”
Morning grinned.  “I bet you didn’t feel it quite as strongly as I did.”
She raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?”
She shrugged.  “I’m pretty sensitive to that kind of thing.”
Hermione nodded slowly.  “Ahh…  Okay.  Anyways.  Um…”
“Come to think of it, Ginny,” Morning muttered.  “Back in Flourish and Blotts, you acted like you felt that h-family magic as well…  even though you’re all British, and shouldn’t have it.  I wonder…?”
“Oh.”  Ginny blushed.  “Actually…  I went through the Papa Tango, soo…”
Morning nodded.  “Ahh, that explains it.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
“...  But I hadn’t gone through it yet,” Ginny muttered.  “I…  When I was eight, I…  a goddess blessed me, and…”
“And gave you something at least comparable,” Hermione muttered.  “Right?”
She tilted her head.  “...  Yeah.  She also gave me perfect recall.”
Hermione nodded.  “Wow.”
Morning tilted her head.  “It’s not as good as it sounds,” she stated.  “I have some perfect recall myself- like, I can choose what to remember perfectly for the rest of my life.  But even with that choice, it’s both a blessing and a curse.”
“Oh?”
“Imagine being unable to forget about that one mistake you made almost five years ago, but wanted to remember at the time, so you could learn from it?”
“Well-!”
“Or,” Morning smiled, tapping Ginny’s shoulder.  “Imagine being unable to forget about that time ten years ago when you first met the love of your life, but didn’t realize who he was and so treated him like dirt?”  She flinched in time with Hermione.  “Er, sorry, I didn’t realize…”
“Uh, that never happened?” Ginny muttered.
“It was a hypothetical example,” Morning answered.
“I’m never going to forget that,” Hermione muttered, blushing.  Then she glanced up.  “Er, and not because of perfect recall, but because…”  She took a deep breath.  “I…  I went to the same muggle school as Harry did.  Yes, the Famous Harry Potter.  And I treated him like a freak, because that was the ‘proper’ thing to do- even though I was just as much of a freak, if not more of one.  I mean, I could even control my accidental magic, to a degree!”  She shuddered.  “Then…  Then I got my Hogwarts books, realized who he was, and…”  She trailed off, blushing scarlet.  “I will never forget that day.”
Ginny grinned.  “You look good in Gryffindor colors,” she offered.
“Huh?  I-  uh-!”  Hermione blinked, blushed even darker, and laughed.
“So, uh,” Morning stated, as if changing the subject on purpose.  “I have a question.”
Both Ginny and Hermione looked at her.
“I, ahh, happen to notice that your thaumic signature is way stronger than anyone else’s,” Morning told Hermione.  “I’m kinda curious why that might be?”

Hermione shrugged.  “It’s a known side effect of the Papa Tango.  We have no idea why it happens, it just does.  And I don’t think Lyra’s all that worried about it either, so that’s one side effect that’s probably going to stick around.”  She grinned.  “Which means, Ginny, that when yours finishes tomorrow, you will probably also be stupidly powerful.”  Then she scowled.  “...  Though, your hair hasn’t changed.  That’s…  We’ll have to ask Lyra about that.”
> Chapter 47
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time it was time for her to head for bed, Ginny was feeling content for the first time in at least a month.  Whatever happened, she had at least one friend that wouldn’t let her go- and, since she had gone through the Papa Tango, she could just go to Equestria to get married and come back.  She wasn’t sure what the Ministry would think of something like that, but she could cross that hurdle when she reached it- and it wasn’t like they could stop her.
Though, as Hermione had pointed out, she hadn’t noticed any of the symptoms of the Papa Tango that she’d been told about, including the transformation ones.  It was making her wonder if she’d really gone through it.  Had it failed?  Would Lyra be able to try it again?
She did notice, once she and Morning reached the top of the stairs, that Morning looked at the first-year British dorm for a second, before guiding her through the Equestrian door.  Which, for some reason, felt right.  Then, as Morning guided her further in, she felt the route as well- and knew, even before she saw them, which doors Morning was navigating to.  Perhaps it was the magic of Hogwarts?
She paused when she felt the path deviate- and Morning paused as well.  “Something wrong?” she asked.
Ginny looked up, in the direction she was feeling…  at a bed, with a trunk sitting at the foot of it.
Morning looked at it too, then blinked.  “...  Oh.  That’s your trunk, isn’t it?”
She nodded silently.
Morning chuckled.  “So I guess you’ve already accepted the offer I was going to make, to come sleep with me.”
She let out a giggle.  “Yeah, I guess I have.”  She didn’t release her side-on hug.
Morning smiled.  “Then you’re probably going to want to get your night clothes on,” she supplied.  “Those robes won’t be too comfortable for sleeping.”
“...  Right,” she muttered, and released the hug to step over to her trunk.  She glanced up at Morning, who followed close- and had already changed into her nightgown?  She ignored it, and opened the latches on her trunk, knowing exactly where-
She stopped, and compared the contents of her trunk with what she’d packed.  It was a perfect match.
She reached in, and counted the robes.  One, two, three.
Then she looked down at the robes she was wearing, and back up at Morning.  “How?” she asked.
“Magic,” Morning answered simply.  “Not unlike Transfiguration.  It’s set to wear off in a couple hours.”  She took a deep breath.  “Shall I cancel it early?”
Ginny shrugged.  “Might as well.”
“Alright then, here goes.”  Morning touched her robes lightly- and she felt the magic fall off of them, leaving them to snap back to being her ‘muggle clothes’.
She let out a squeak of protest as she adjusted the jeans, before going about getting changed.  Unfortunately, the only ‘muggle clothing’ her mother had been able to find for her with a low enough price tag didn’t fit very well.  The shirt was a little baggy…  but she was pretty sure the “skinny jeans” were a size too small, so they pinched in just the wrong spot if she wasn’t careful.
“So,” she muttered, as she slipped her nightgown on, and looked up at Morning again.  “How did you do that transfiguration thing on the train without me noticing?”
Morning winced.  “You were…  distracted.”
She winced as well, closed her trunk, and stood up to meet Morning again.  “Then…  how did you change into your nightgown so quickly?”  She rather suspected she already knew the answer.
Morning smiled.  “The same.”
“So…  how’re you so good at transfiguration already?  Is there a secret to it?”
Morning definitely winced, and Ginny noticed the vulnerable expression that crossed her face before she was able to hide it.  “Ahh,” Morning muttered.
So Ginny grabbed Morning by the shoulders, sat her down on her bed, then sat sideways in her lap, before wrapping an arm around Morning’s back.  “I’m listening,” she stated.
Morning, who had been evidently startled by her sudden motion, smiled.  “Of course you are.”  She wrapped her arm around Ginny in turn, and hugged her.  “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
She blushed.  “Not when I’ve been crying.”
Morning rolled her eyes.  “I’m…  actually not talking about that, though you have that kind of beauty as well.”  She took a deep breath.  “I…  I can tell you about…  well, me, I guess…  but you’ll have to promise not to tell anyone- even Famous Harry Potter, or that girl that came to talk to us in the common room.”
“Hermione?” Ginny asked.  “Why?”
Morning winced.  “Well…  yet, at least.  It’s because…  If…  If ever any of the other Equestrians find out…  what I am, they’ll kill me.”
Ginny hugged her.  “I won’t let them.”
She chuckled.  “Might be a challenge.  Some of them are trained for that kind of thing.”  Then she leaned over, taking Ginny with her, and rolled over as well, so they ended up laying side by side on Ginny’s bed, facing each other.  “You…  You’ve gone through that Papa Tango spellwork, so…”  She took a deep breath.  “Has anyone explained to you what most of the Equestrians really are?”
She blinked.  “I…  You mean they’re not human or something?”
Morning laughed.  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
She scowled.  “Oh, I bet I would.”
“Yeah, you probably would, wouldn’t you?”
She grinned lightly.
Morning shrugged.  “Anyways.  I…  I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell you, or to let someone else do it…  but if you’ve gone through the Papa Tango, the secret’s already yours as well- and let’s face it, this is the Equestrian dormitories.  Knowing them, nopony will be able to keep their mouth shut in here.”
“...  Pony?”
“Yeah.  Not all of them, of course- but most of them.  There’s also some dragons, kirin, hippogriffs, yaks, griffins…”  She trailed off.  “And me.”
“And you,” Ginny repeated.
“Y-Yeah.  I’m…  As I said, if they knew, they’d kill me.  That’s…  That’s because, while I might look like a pony, I’m not one.  I am…  I am what you would call a changeling.”
“Okay.  And…  why are they so…?”
“They…  The ponies hunt changelings, because Equestria is a pretty utopian nation…  and a few years ago, a changeling invasion force attacked and nearly took the pony capital.”  She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.  “I…  was on that invasion force.  Every changeling was.”
“So…  how did you get here…?”
Morning didn’t answer.  Instead, she was briefly- and very suddenly- enveloped in green flame.  Ginny let out a small shriek of surprise.
When the flame disappeared, Morning’s fiery hair was gone.  So was the soft skin of her face.
Her hair was replaced by a hard black carapace- and her face was replaced with dozens of pieces of the same, interlocking and overlapping as she moved.
Ginny could feel that the carapace wasn’t just on her head- it covered the rest of her body too.
She hugged Morning close.  “I don’t care what you look like,” she stated.  “You’re still Morning Sun to me.”
Morning smiled, hugging her back, gently.  “I…  I actually am not Morning.  Morning is somepony that I…  well, made up.  A persona, so I could hide in pony society.  My real name- my changeling name- is Nymph.”  Her voice was different, but she didn’t feel any different to Ginny’s heart.
“So,” she began.  “You’re an animagus.”
Morning chuckled- and startled Ginny again with her green fire.
Moments later, Ginny found herself staring into her own face.
“No.  I’m a shapeshifter.  I…  I can become anything I want to.  Anyone I want to.”  She even spoke with Ginny’s own voice.
Ginny hugged her close again.  “And I don’t care who or what you are, I still love you.”
“I know,” Morning nodded.
“No you don’t.”
She just laughed.





Dumbledore did his utmost to look completely unbothered as his visitors filed in.  They had, alongside the request to use the Great Hall for scheduling purposes again this year, requested a private meeting with him.
He quietly matched them to memorized student records as they entered- all, he noticed, with scowls on their faces, some better disguised than others.
First in line was Princess Twilight Sparkle.  This was the girl that seemed to be incapable of walking past the library without going inside.  He had been alarmed when he’d been told it was really no surprise that she was acing every class- and that every paper she submitted, no matter the class, was at least twenty feet long, with her tiny handwriting.  He’d heard that a couple of her student instructors were giving her a perfect score, then reading it- and that one had even used Twilight’s twenty-kilogram essay as a reference for her next class!
Next was Princess Celestia herself, the true ruler of their entire nation.  She was in the form of an eleven-year-old, and would be attending Hogwarts as a first-year this year- but, just like his instructors did, he now understood that to be a gimmick of their portal.  He did have to wonder how she would continue ruling Equestria from Hogwarts.  Besides, he felt intimidated by her presence, no matter how cute she was.  She walked in with a certain practiced grace that spoke of long experience with a governing body.
Third was Princess Luna, Celestia’s younger sister and the commander in chief of Equestria’s armed forces.  She obviously deferred to her sister, but her scowl was also perhaps the most pronounced- and, unlike all the others, she wore one singular piece of armor:  A jeweled breastplate, mostly hidden by her Hogwarts robes.  She was also the only one to have brought a sword.
Fourth was Princess Cadence.  She was also a new student- and, he heard, a mother as well, despite her apparent youth.  He had to admit, he was curious what would happen should she end up as a student in a class her daughter was teaching; her daughter was starting Hogwarts this year as well.
Fifth was Prince Shining Armor, the husband of Princess Cadence.  He was also a first-year- and Dumbledore didn’t know much else about him, except that he was the only boy entering his office.  All the others were girls- and he didn’t look uncomfortable about it as all.  As a matter of fact, his expression reminded Dumbledore quite strongly of a disappointed Auror.
Sixth came Princess Flurry Heart, the daughter of Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor.  She was one of the hundred and fifty or so new Equestrian students that were legitimately eleven years old.
The seventh person, Bonbon, was the first one to have not been a member of royalty, but she might as well have been one as well.  He hadn’t even heard the girl’s name more than once or twice the entire prior year…  until he got back to the Castle after the fiasco with the Sequence that was supposed to be hiding the Stone, and she’d mentioned in passing that she’d removed it to Celestia’s Vault in Equestria less than two hours after she’d been sorted.
Then came Lyra Heartstrings, the constantly cheerful girl that had been all over the place throughout the first year, though she now had an uncharacteristic scowl on her face.  As a matter of fact, she was looking at him like he was a naughty toddler she was about to send to time-out.  It was…  disconcerting, Dumbledore decided.
Ninth came Moondancer, who looked like she wanted to breathe fire as her eyes locked onto the stack of parchment sitting on the side of his desk; he’d forgotten to remove his old Plan from it.  As he recalled, she was similar to Princess Twilight, though at least a little more sedate- her essays often weren’t quite twenty feet long.
Tenth was Sunset Shimmer, who was fiddling with a small ball of fire in her hands- and looked like she wanted to throw it at someone, but was restraining herself.
Eleventh came Starlight Glimmer, who had a perplexing expression on her face.  Dumbledore got the impression she was looking at something he couldn’t see- and, as he understood, she was the one that had made it possible for so many things to happen.  Without her, the Equestrians would never have gotten all their wands from Ollivander’s in time without overloading the man, the sorting would have taken much longer than ten minutes, and the entire Student Instructor plan would be completely unworkable, among other things.
Finally, the twelfth and final Equestrian to enter his office was another first-year, this one by the name of Tempest Shadow.  She wore a poker face, but held her head proudly in the air.  Out of all of them, she felt the most…  dangerous.
He spent a few seconds looking up and down the long row, and silently calming his nerves.  Whatever they were here for, it was obviously something important.
“Alright,” he began, and took a deep breath, working to conceal his nervousness.  It was quite unlike him to be quite so nervous.  “You asked to see me?”
“Yes, we did,” Lyra spoke.  “We heard, from a reliable source, that you had a plan…  that indicated that there would be iron bars in Harry Potter’s bedroom window a month ago?”
“Ahh,” he muttered, his eyes flicking to the old Plan, sitting on the corner of his desk.  “I…  did, until recently.  Might I ask… why?”
Princess Celestia spoke, and Dumbledore instantly knew that he had been right to be intimidated by her.  “Why did this plan indicate such?”  Her…  disappointment, he thought it was, tugged at his heartstrings just right.  He couldn’t withhold anything from her- not and live with himself later.  Even though he’d never met her before.  Perhaps it was how her disappointment contrasted with the restrained anger that all eleven of the others responded with?
“It was a factor I could not control,” he answered immediately.  “There were…  many of those in the Plan.  I controlled what I could, to minimize the harm…”  He sighed.  “The way I saw it, the installation of those bars- which apparently never happened- would’ve marked the point that the Weasley Twins could justify rescuing him from the Dursleys.  I…  couldn’t think of any way to justify the rescue at an earlier date, nor to justify a rescue by anyone else.”  He took a deep breath.  “I…  I have recently become certain that…  That the Plan is no longer…  applicable.”  He gestured the stack of pages.  “I…  I was going to discard it tonight, and build a fresh one.”
“What was this Plan for?” Shining Armor asked authoritatively.  He even sounded like an auror!
“To ensure the defeat of Voldemort,” he stated instantly.

Princess Luna smiled, though it was more of a predatory smile.  “Perhaps we should work together to make the new Plan?”
> Chapter 48
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning, Ginny woke up to find herself tangled in the bedsheets with her doppelganger.  It took her drowsy mind a few seconds to figure out what was going on- then she spent a couple minutes examining Morning’s face- and, by extension, her own face.  She looked so…  peaceful, with that gentle smile on her face, that it was a shame to wake her up.
Unfortunately, though, Ginny could just see a clock on the wall from her position- and they were already starting to run late.  She sighed, then freed the arm that wasn’t trapped under Morning to gently shake the girl’s shoulder.  “Hey, Morning,” she muttered.
Morning didn’t stir, and instead shook her hand off and curled into her chest.
Ginny chuckled softly.  “Oh, I wish we had more time too,” she muttered, and started drawing her finger around in Morning’s hair, on the top of her head.
She didn’t know when Morning was awake because Morning looked at her, because she didn’t.  Instead, after stirring for a few seconds, Morning let out a sigh…  and raised an arm to start drawing on Ginny’s head as well.
Ginny smiled again, and hugged Morning close.  “I wish we had more time too,” she muttered into Morning’s hair.  “But we’re already a bit late.”
Morning finally looked up at her.  “Mm?”  She sounded exactly like Ginny herself- but Ginny expected that, since she’d never un-transformed the night before.  Morning stared at her for a couple of seconds, before looking over towards the clock, and staring at it for a few seconds more.  “Eh.”  Then she curled right back up into Ginny’s chest.
Ginny hugged her.  “That means we should be getting up.”
“Eh.”
It was clear to Ginny that Morning wasn’t fully awake, so she contemplated her options.  On a thought, she glanced upwards, and judged how far she was from the edge of the bed.
It was just about right…  so she gently adjusted her left leg into a better position for what she was about to do, hugged Morning tightly, and rolled.  She stopped when she was lying on her other side- and let go at the same time, lying on the very edge of the bed, and facing off.
Morning had fallen perhaps three inches before she let out a shriek of surprise and her arms snapped out, allowing her to turn her fall into a strange kind of cartwheel, which brought her to her feet just short of the next bed in the row, breathing hard.
Ginny propped her head up on an elbow.  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted.
Morning took two more deep breaths, then let out a huff and gave her a deadpan look.  “You know you didn’t have to do that,” she stated.
Ginny shrugged.  “But where’s the fun in that?”
Morning blinked, then started laughing- and after a couple seconds, Ginny joined her.
Finally, Ginny rolled herself out of bed, one leg first so she could rise fluidly to her feet, and took Morning’s hand.  “C’mon, let’s get started with our day.”  Morning hadn’t seemed to notice she was still Ginny’s doppelganger, and she had some ideas.  She tugged on Morning’s hand.  “Why don’t we start with a shower?”  She’d spotted the dormitory bathroom before she’d stood.
Morning chuckled.  “Yeah, why not.”  She glanced towards the bathrooms.  “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shower on this side of the Gate.”
She giggled, dragging Morning over to the door.  “Look and learn, how about?”
When she opened the door, and dragged Morning in, she made sure to position herself so that Morning never looked directly into the mirror, even by accident.
As it turned out, Morning was unfamiliar with showers in general, not just human showers.  It seemed she was used to bathing in rivers- or simply never bathing.  As a result, Ginny ended up educating Morning on some of the more mundane things like how to use soap, how to properly take care of her hair, and so on.
And much to Ginny’s delight, it wasn’t until they had finished their showers, and were toweling off their hair, that Morning seemed to realize that her hair wasn’t the fiery red and yellow she’d entered the Castle with.  “What…?”  Morning paused, staring at her own hair.
Ginny giggled.
Morning looked up at her, tilted her head, then stepped past her to look in the mirror.  “What-!?”
Ginny burst out laughing.
Morning stared for a second- and, in a blink of green fire, was her fiery-haired self once again.  Then she looked at Ginny, and smiled, then started chuckling as well.
It took Ginny a few seconds to stop laughing, before she stepped closer, and ran a hand through Morning’s hair.
It was completely dry, and had even resumed its unruly hairstyle from the day before.
“No fair,” she complained lightly.
“What…?”  Morning asked curiously, running a hand through her own hair…  then she paused.  “Huh.”  A flash of green fire turned her hair red again, as she became Ginny’s doppelganger once again- but her hair didn’t become wet again, it stayed nice and dry.
“Cheater,” Ginny accused.
Morning tilted her head, restoring herself with a third flash of green fire.  “Actually…  We might be able to do something about that.  How about we try…”  She shrugged.  “How about we try channeling your magic, through me, into yourself?”
Ginny raised an eyebrow.  “How would that help?”
Morning smiled, and took Ginny’s shoulders in her hands.  “Concentrate on your hair,” she muttered.  “But concentrate on it being a little different than it is now.”  She closed her eyes.
Ginny closed her eyes, and concentrated.  Her still-damp hair was cold against her back- but she imagined it looking like Morning’s, falling in a neatly messy array of red and gold, as if it were a bonfire.  She concentrated on that- and thought of Morning’s green fire.
The moment she imagined that green fire turning her hair into a duplicate of Morning’s, a brief wash of warmth started at her scalp and traveled down her back, where it disappeared…  and her hair was no longer hanging down her back like a damp towel.  She opened her eyes.
Morning let out a breath, and opened her eyes.  “Okay, that-!”  She blinked, then chuckled.  “You know, if we don’t want ponies to think you are a changeling, we might have to change it again.”  She took a deep breath.  “That said, any changes we do this way will wear off in about a day.  That’s about how long it’ll take for your own self-transformation magic- something most ponies don’t have- to reassert itself, and push you back to your natural form.”
She looked in the mirror, and shrugged; her hair looked exactly like Morning’s, but she was otherwise no different…  No, she was also dry.  She shrugged.  “Eh, there are potions and spells for this kind of thing,” she stated.  “And there are witches and wizards that can make small changes like this at will, anyways.  They’re called ‘metamorphmagi’.”
Morning blinked.  “You’re…  not one, are you?”
She shrugged.  “No, I’m not a metamorphmagus.  But they don’t need to know that, do they?”
Morning chuckled.  “I suppose they don’t.  I probably don’t want to make myself out to be one, though- I bet that’s one of the British facets that Equestrians simply don’t have.”





Ginny’s good mood remained fully unabated when she and Morning raced each other back to the Great Hall for lunch that day.  She’d found out, on their way down to breakfast, that Morning had no idea which way to go to reach the Great Hall- but she’d known exactly where to go.  At breakfast, they’d arrived late, but they’d done so to find out that, since they didn’t teach any classes that day or the next, they actually had the entire first day off.
It had taken until halfway through breakfast before Ginny realized just how unusual her morning had been, even for herself.  Had she been told, even just the night before, that she would’ve enjoyed teaching Morning how to scrub herself in the shower, she would’ve been convinced that whoever was telling her that- even if it had been herself- needed to be admitted to St. Mungo’s.  But, it’d happened.
Finally, she paused just inside the Great Hall.  She’d won the race.
It took Morning just a couple seconds to catch up, before Ginny picked a spot on the massive Gryffindor table and led Morning to it.  There were lots of empty seats; they were slightly early to lunch.
“So,” she began, as she sat Morning down first, then hopped onto the bench next to her, looked at the table, and picked the nearest plate that looked appetizing to offer Morning.  “Um, eggs, I think?”  Why did she have to pick the one thing she didn’t know the name of?
Morning took one look at it and smiled.  “I believe that would be called ‘deviled eggs’,” Morning informed her, before plucking one off the platter to offer her.  “Want to try it?”
Ginny giggled, and promptly bit off half.
Then, while Morning ate the other half, she served a dozen or so more onto their plate- just like with breakfast, Morning wasn’t all that hungry, so they shared a plate- and she started searching the table for the next item to serve.
She was interrupted from her contemplation, however, when Morning twitched involuntarily.  She looked up at Morning.  “What?”
“Well,” Morning began, before looking somewhere behind her.
She looked.  “What?” she repeated.
Then, she very suddenly knew what, as her heart leaped, yet again, as she made eye contact with that silver-haired girl that was trotting towards them.  She grinned, and waved.  It looked like the girl was a second-year- but, with the twin royal blue stripes splitting her gleaming silver hair evenly into thirds, she had to be an Equestrian.  Thus, according to Equestrian law, which Morning had explained before they left the common room the night before, there was absolutely nothing wrong.  Morning had told her it wasn’t uncommon for families- technically herds, that was the Equestrian term- of four or even five mares to form before they found their stallion.  And of course, even if she included Hermione, this silver-haired girl would only make four.
The silver-haired girl smiled and trotted up next to her.  “Good afternoon to you too,” she greeted.  “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Do I mind?” Ginny asked, in mock offense.  “Whyever would I do that?”
The girl chuckled, and took the seat next to her.  “Gee, I have no idea,” she chuckled.
Ginny giggled, and hugged her sideways.  “Honestly?”
The girl smiled, and hugged her back.  “Yeah, why not?”  Then she looked up at Morning, and held out the hand she’d wrapped around Ginny.  “And you too, no Sister left behind.”
Morning blinked.  “Sister-?”
She raised an eyebrow.  “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too?”
“Uh- No, I do, don’t get me wrong.”
“And you’re an Equestrian?”
“Uh, Yes.”
“Then you know what I mean.”
Morning blinked.  “...I guess I do.”  She leaned in, and joined in the group hug.
Ginny looked at the silver-haired girl, even as she wrapped her unoccupied arm around Morning as well.  “Sister?” she asked.
The silver-haired girl smiled, and whispered softly in her ear.  “Sister wives.”  Then she offered them her free hand, and spoke normally once again.  “Anyways, my name’s Silversong, how about you?”
Ginny blinked, and blushed.  “Oh.  Um…  Ginny.  Ginny Weasley.”  She smiled innocently at Silversong, and squoze gently with her hug.
Morning chuckled.  “Morning Sun.”  She inverted her free hand to shake Silver’s.  “And it’s nice to meet you.”  She took a deep breath.  “You seem…  mighty accepting of the whole Sister thing, for a local.”
Silver blinked.  “What-?  How did you know?”
Morning flinched.  “Sorry, I’m just, ah, very sensitive, to…”  She took a deep breath.  “Stuff.”
Ginny tilted her head.  “Can you tell us later?” she asked softly.  “Maybe tonight?”
Morning nodded.
Silver nodded in turn.  “Alright, I can work with that.”  She looked at the table- and, in about three seconds of royal blue aura, assembled herself a plate of food, complete with garnish.
Ginny stared.
“You’re pretty good at that,” Morning commented.
Silver shrugged.  “Eh, it’s nothing worth recognizing, though.  I mean,” she looked at Ginny and Morning, “it is my Talent.”
Morning tilted her head.  “Is that what we’re calling it on this side?”
Silver blinked up at her.  “You don’t know?”
“I wasn’t paying much attention during the…  presentation before we went to Diagon Alley,” she shrugged.  “So I know we’re not calling it-” she glanced down the length of the table, and looked back at Silver- “by its proper name, but I don’t know what we are calling it.”
Silver rolled her eyes.  “So, assuming we’re talking about the same thing, yes, we’re calling it the Unique Talent on this side.  I suppose we can verify tonight, up in the dormitories?”
Morning shrugged.  “Yeah, probably.”
Then someone touched Ginny’s shoulder.  As strange as it was, it didn’t feel strange, so she just looked.
She recognized him instantly.  It was the boy from the station so long ago- and from that angle, she could also see his lightning scar.
“Hi,” she stated.
He smiled back at her.  “Hey Ginny,” he began.  “I see you’ve already met Silversong, but I don’t believe I know your other friend?”
She blushed only slightly at how quickly he’d recognized her…  and then, she looked at Silver.  “What?”  Silver had turned to give Harry a strange look.
Morning smiled up at him.  “I’m Morning Sun.  How about you?”





Dumbledore looked up to scan the Great Hall after he served himself lunch.  The new Plan was coming along well- and, thanks to the amount of raw power available to oppose Voldemort, it wasn’t nearly so sensitive to things going wrong, so he didn’t have to manipulate nearly so many.  As a matter of fact, he- and the Equestrians- had been able to classify most of the student body- British and Equestrian alike- as “bystanders”, and so completely exclude them from the Plan.
Unfortunately, there had been one person he hadn’t been able to remove:  Harry Potter.  The Equestrians had, reluctantly, agreed- but this time, he could actually tell the boy about the part he played, since he no longer needed to martyr himself!  As a matter of fact, the main reason he still needed to be part of the Plan at all was that Voldemort would be targeting him!
…  The discovery that Harry was almost alarmingly good with his defensive spells was a relief.  Whenever Voldemort attacked, the longer he could stay alive, the more time the various powerhouses had to reach him and do their thing.
He hoped that Voldemort would still make the crucial mistake he’d been manipulating him into making before, of using Harry’s blood to resurrect himself; even without the rest of the plan, that would still render Harry immortal until after Voldemort’s own death- until after the Light had won.  He’d mentioned it to the Equestrians- and working that back into the Plan, since that mistake would basically guarantee at least an eventual success of the Plan, was scheduled for the afternoon meeting.
Much of the morning had been spent figuring who had to be part of the new Plan and how to deal with the parts of the old one that had already been set in motion; much of the night, before breakfast, had been deciding the general direction for the new Plan to follow.
Fortunately for youngest Weasley, he had scanned the castle during breakfast, and had not found Tom’s signature.  As such, the diary must not have made its way into her hands, and the coming year should be fairly peaceful.  Or, at least as peaceful as a castle stuffed full of Equestrians could be.  So of course, one of the things he’d done just before coming down for lunch was to cancel her marriage contract, free her to follow her heart.
Then, he looked up, instantly recognized the Equestrian she’d gotten off the train with, blinked, and stared.
For one, Ginny’s hair had changed.  He wasn’t sure how, but it wasn’t all that important.  There were plenty of spells to do that- and plenty of skilled Equestrians to cast them, he was sure.
For two, Ginny looked almost blissfully happy, sandwiched between Morning Sun and Hermione Granger on one side, and Silversong and Harry Potter on the other side, all seated so close together they might as well have been attached at the hips- like that one very interesting incident in Gryffindor Tower last year.
And of course, they were all smiling, hugging, sharing…  they looked like a single family.
He shook himself, and sighed.  He’d have to spend some of his free time these next few nights looking up the various laws and precedents, to see about how to make a polygamous marriage possible for her if she wanted it- or, if not, how to make it possible to legally marry her under Equestrian law, while standing on British soil.  It was the least he could do, with how much pain his original Plan had caused the girl.  It wouldn’t be hard for him to ram something through to get the entire International Confederation of Wizards to recognize contracts- including marriages- from Equestrian law; a vast majority of the Mugwumps would simply rubber stamp a law or treaty to that end, and the remainder didn’t really matter.
Unfortunately, he was fairly sure that neither Ginny nor Potter could cross the Gate without giving up their lives, and when marrying, even wizards don’t get to pick and choose whose law they marry under.  Nor Hermione, now that he was thinking about polygamy- she looked to be part of the party as well.  Though, she might be able to, with the Papa Tango he’d heard about…  and with her strange propensity for breaking the laws of magic.  Perhaps the next time she broke the laws of magic, it would render national borders, or even laws, moot?
While he turned back to his potatoes, he idly wondered exactly what it would take to make it possible for both Weasley and Potter to cross the Gate safely.
> Chapter 49
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s it saying?” Morning Sun asked.
She, Hermione, and Silversong were following Harry up the passage from Nearly Headless Nick’s death-day party at a dead run.  Ginny hadn’t come, being uninterested in a death day party, and had promised to save them seats in the Great Hall, after a quick diary entry.  Then, Harry had suddenly gone off after a voice neither of the others could hear.
Harry didn’t answer, and charged up into the entrance hall, then on up the stairs.  Morning paused briefly, looking at the Great Hall for a second, but turned away quickly, looking a little worried.  Silver briefly debated asking about it, but decided against it.





Silversong was the first to see it; both Hermione and Morning were looking at Harry, waiting for him to tell them what he’d heard, beyond the brief cries he’d already given them during the dash.
She raised one hand to point.  “Over there,” she muttered.
Someone had daubed something red on the wall, between two windows, about a foot high.  It looked like it might be words, but she couldn’t tell for sure.  She was sure, though, that it was glinting in the flickering torchlight, and it looked like there was something greyish stuck to the wall underneath it.
“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the Heir beware,” Morning read from afar, even though Silver- who had the best angle- wasn’t sure if it was even words to begin with.  “And I don’t think I’ve seen that cat hanging underneath before, but she feels familiar.”
Hermione put a hand to her chest.
Silver walked slowly closer, looking carefully.  “That…”
Morning caught her unexpectedly by an arm.  “Looks like wet paint,” she stated.  “And watch out for the puddle.”  She pointed at the floor.
Sliver glanced down, and nodded; she hadn’t realized the water was there.  Then, Lyra trotted past, splashing right through the water like she didn’t care about it, and stopped in front of the words.
Silver looked both ways down the passage, but didn’t see anywhere that Lyra could have come from.
“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the Heir beware,” Lyra read to herself.  “Chamber of Secrets, Chamber of Secrets, where have I heard of that before?”
Hermione tilted her head.  “I…  I think it was in Hogwarts:  A History?”
Lyra shook her head.  “No, not that, this was-!”  She froze for a second, and took a breath.  “Right.  Well, the good news is that she’s not dead.”
“I could’ve told you that,” Morning muttered.
Lyra nodded.  “Probably because dead cats don’t have emotions, right?”
“Ahh…”
Silver looked at Morning.  She, like the rest of their herd, rather suspected that Lyra knew Morning was a Changeling.  She’d been making small comments about the unique abilities that Morning had because she was a changeling for the last month or so- but always in private, almost like she was trying to keep it from someone else.
She shrugged.  “Well, dead cats also don’t have auras, and hers is stable.”  Then she took a deep breath, turned down the passage away from them, and yelled.  “DUMBLEDORE!”
“That was loud,” Harry muttered.
“How’d you yell that loud?” Silver asked.
“Amplification spell.”  She pointed at the words.  “The old Plan had something about this in it, but Dumbledore assured us over a month ago that he’d verified it wouldn’t happen, and we wouldn’t have to worry about it.  He must have missed something, and needs to know immediately.”
“The old Plan?” Harry asked.
She nodded.  “He was in the process of throwing it out when we arrived at Hogwarts this year, then we helped him formulate a new one that actually accounts for the differences.  And this time, we were able to exclude almost everyone from it- and the only reason you’re on the new plan, Harry, is because you’re the one Voldemort will be targeting.  There wasn’t supposed to be anything happening this year, though- beyond Lockhart, but he’s supposed to be harmless.”
Silver’s eyebrows rose.  Harry, the only one of the herd to have had classes directly with the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, had a very, very negative opinion of the man, who had apparently endangered his very first class by unleashing a bunch of cornish pixies on them with practically no warning.
“Harmless, yeah,” Harry muttered doubtfully.
Lyra grinned.  “I did say ‘supposed to be’.”
Hermione only nodded.
Filch was the first staff member to show up, though.  “What’s going on?” he demanded.  Then he froze.  “My Cat!  What has-!”  He rounded on Harry, for some reason.  “What have you done to Mrs. Norris?”
“It wasn’t him,” Lyra stated flatly.
He ignored her.  “You’ve killed her!  I’ll kill you, you-!”
“It wasn’t him,” Lyra repeated.  “And she’s not dead.”
Filch ignored her- but Dumbledore arrived right at that moment, with Snape and Lockhart right behind him.  “Argus,” he began.
Filch stopped accusing right away, looking almost pleadingly up at Dumbledore.
Lyra stepped back from the words, and pointed wordlessly.
Dumbledore stepped closer, and looked at it.  “...  Huh.  I must have been wrong.”  He looked at Lyra.  “Tonight, then?”
Lyra nodded.  “We’ll be there.”
Dumbledore stepped closer, and unhooked Mrs. Norris’ tail from the torch bracket.
“My office is nearest,” Lockhart suggested.  “Just upstairs.”
“Thank you, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore said, and started walking.  Both teachers and Filch all followed right behind him.  Next went Lyra, then Harry, Silver, and Morning.
Hermione almost followed, but paused suddenly.  “I’ll meet you at his office,” she muttered.  “I need to use the bathroom.”  Then she headed in the other direction.
Silver had to wonder if she was avoiding Lockhart’s office or something- the nearest available bathroom wasn’t in the opposite direction.
It wasn’t a very long walk.  Hardly a couple minutes had passed before they were filing into Lockhart’s office.
Silver had a mere moment to notice the various Lockharts in his pictures- they practically wallpapered the room- dashing out of view, their hair in rollers, before her attention was drawn to Lyra.  Lyra had paused at the door to let them pass- and then blocked Morning from entering.
She looked back at Lyra, and opened her mouth to speak- but Lyra put a finger very briefly to her lips.
She waited about a second, before Lyra spoke, quietly.  “Morning, I need you to meet Hermione on the main staircase.  She’s on her way to the Hospital Wing with an unconscious Ginny.”
Morning blinked.  “Got it.”  She dashed away.
“You needed her to…?” Silver asked quietly.
Lyra briefly touched her lips with a finger again.
“...  Okay.”  She turned to watch what was going on in the office.
Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the desk and began to examine her, Filch watching anxiously.  Lockhart started pacing back and forth behind Dumbledore, spouting off information about some curse that he thought had killed her, and how he could have saved her if he had been present.
Silver noticed when Twilight, Bonbon, and Moondancer all entered the room, about thirty seconds later.
Finally, while Lockhart was reciting a list of murders he’d prevented- he was certainly not helping the situation- Dumbledore spoke.  “She’s not dead,” he announced.
Lockhart stopped talking at once.
“Not dead?” Filch asked.  “Then why is she all…?”
“She has been petrified,” Dumbledore informed him.
“Petrified, huh?” Twilight asked, putting a finger to her chin.  “Interesting word to use.  Looks to me like she was being killed slowly, but her magic was able to protect her by putting her into stasis- and in so doing, effectively rendered her immortal for the duration.”
Moondancer nodded.  “Yeah, that’s what I’m seeing too.  But seeing as we’ve never explored the term ‘petrify’ in this world’s wizarding literature…”
“True,” Twilight nodded.  “We could well be talking about the same thing.”  She looked up at Dumbledore.  “I have to admit, I’m curious how you would go about treating her?”
Dumbledore smiled softly.  “All she needs is some mandrake restorative draft, and she’ll be back to normal in no time.”
“Oh, I could whip up a mandrake restorative draft in my sleep,” Lockhart intoned.  “Must have done it a hundred times by now.”
“Excuse me,” Snape interrupted.  “I believe I am the potions master at this school.”
“Wow.  I’m going to ask if I can get a sample of that draft for magical examination, then- we usually treat it by letting them heal themselves, and a potion would make it a lot faster.”
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.  “How long would that take?”
She shrugged.  “About a thousand years.”
“A thousand years!?!” Filch exclaimed.
“Down to, oh, how long, with that draft?”
“About a minute,” Snape answered.
Dumbledore nodded.  “It’s going to be a few months, though, before we have any mandrakes available.  To our luck, Professor Sprout managed to procure some this year- I understand they should be ready in the spring.”
“Alright then,” Bonbon muttered.  “I suppose the only questions left would be who, and how.”
Filch pointed at Harry.  “Ask him!  He did it!”
Bonbon looked at Harry, then at Lyra, who was shaking her head.
“He read my-!” Filch continued.  “He knows I’m a- that I’m a- a squib!”
Silver blinked.  That would tend to explain a lot.
Lyra blinked, looked at Filch, Harry, Filch again, and finally at Twilight.  “What’s a squib?”
Twilight shrugged.  “I was about to ask you that.”  She looked at Moondancer.
Moondancer shook her head.  “Don’t think I’ve ever read or heard that word before.”
Silver spoke.  “Simply put…  Simply put, a squib is a muggle born from wizards.  It’s…  It’s more complicated than that, but…”
Lyra tilted her head.  “Wait.  So, when Neville was telling us at breakfast early last year that his family wasn’t sure if he’d be magical enough to come…”
Silver nodded.  “They were worried he might be a squib, but he’s not.  Squibs have magical awareness, but are unable to use magic themselves.”
“Huh,” Lyra muttered.  “Well, once I get the Papa Tango finished- I’m currently trying to figure out why it didn’t seem to work on Ginny- I’m planning on making something to allow muggles to be made into wizards.  I’ll have to see if I can’t make it compatible with squibs too, won’t I?”
“Or, you know,” Twilight muttered, “Law Breaker.”
Lyra blinked.  “True.”
The room was silent for several seconds.
“He did it!” Filch barked into the silence, pointing at Harry.
Dumbledore sighed.  “Argus…  No second-year could have done this.  And I know who did do it- it was the same person that did it fifty years ago.  The only question is, how.”
“And that’s a very good question,” Moondancer scowled.
> Chapter 50
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile…





“Thank you, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore stated, and turned up the passage.  Hermione immediately recognized it as the fastest way to Lockhart’s office- and she started to follow, behind everyone else, before she got a message through the magic-based Agency comms network.  It was a direct message, from Candy Stripes- so, Lyra.  She’d used a similar message to inform Lyra of the words on the wall earlier- though unlike Lyra, she hadn’t used a direct message; she’d messaged the general help channel, which would have included Lyra.  And on which Lyra had responded, even before she performed her masked teleport.
“Check the bathroom,” Lyra said.  “Ginny’s in there, and I don’t think she’s okay.  Keep me posted.”
“Understood,” she answered- and quickly assembled an excuse to break off from the procession.
“I’ll meet you at his office,” she informed Harry, Silver, and Morning.  “I need to use the bathroom.”  Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and headed off in the opposite direction.
She walked in that direction for only as long as it took for Morning- the last in the line going upstairs- to round the corner, before she turned and jogged right back, to the bathroom door right across the hall from the words and torch bracket.  She ignored the large ‘Out Of Order’ sign; it was Myrtle’s bathroom, so it was always out of order.  She did have to wonder why the water was pooling quite so much- wasn’t there a floor drain in here?
And there, right in the middle of the room, was Ginny, lying face-down on the floor and not moving at all.
“Ginny?” she asked, bending down to lift Ginny out of the puddle.
Ginny’s skin was cold.
She checked for a pulse.
There was none.
“Ginny,” she barked, laying her back down, on her back.  “You wake up this instant!”  She started pumping on Ginny’s chest with her hands, trying to get her heart running again.  She used a quick spell to drive fresh oxygen into Ginny’s lungs- and extract the blood and water that had gotten in.  Ginny’s nose was broken.
There was no response.  “I think she’s dead,” she told Lyra.
There was a brief moment of silence, and she felt the strange tingle of Lyra’s magic in the air; she must have been scanning from afar.  “Almost,” Lyra answered.  “Jump-start her thaumic core.”
She took a deep breath, rose up in the air, closed her eyes, and drove her hands down towards Ginny, thrusting her magic out of herself and into her herdmate.





Even through her tears, Myrtle Warren heard Hermione’s cries and wondered who was visiting her so shortly after Peeves had chased her away from Nicholas’ death-day party, so she floated through the door of her bathroom stall.
She was right on time to spot Hermione thrusting her hands out towards Ginny, who lay limply on the floor in front of her.
A solid beam of white energy shot from Hermione’s palms, straight down into Ginny’s form.
Moments later, that white energy started arcing around Ginny, swirling around her, as she was lifted, slightly, into the air.  It kept building, even as the color returned to Ginny’s skin.
Myrtle watched, mouth agape, as the power built so far that it started arcing to other objects in the room.
Then, it arced all the way to her.  Once, twice.  She felt a bit funny after the first one, and the second made her dizzy.  Then the third was much larger than the others- and she let out a cry of surprise before she fell over backwards.  Moments before she passed out, she felt herself land on her back in the puddle- and it felt wet, something she hadn’t felt for fifty years.





Hermione cut off her magic when she heard the scream, and opened her eyes.
…  Ginny was still unconscious, but the color had returned to her face.  She checked for a pulse- and found that not only did Ginny have one, she was also breathing.
Then she looked up and down the rows, looking for the source of the scream.
There was…  a girl, who didn’t look familiar, lying on the damp floor, face up.  She blinked, and looked down at Ginny.  “Seems to have done it, but she’s still unconscious,” she told Lyra.  “Headed for the Hospital Wing with her- and another girl, unfamiliar, that seems to have passed out in here.”
“Understood,” Lyra answered.
Then, she reached down to pick Ginny up…  and stopped.
Her hands were glowing, surrounded by her own magic aura, again.
She closed her fist.  “Not now,” she snarled, concentrating on making herself stop glowing.
To her surprise, it worked.  Her aura disappeared from around herself.
She took a deep breath, then picked Ginny up in her arms, then that strange girl with her magic, and left the bathroom, heading straight for the Hospital Wing.
She was just about reaching the main staircase that would take her to the floor the Hospital Wing was on when Lyra contacted her again.  “Where are you at?”
“Third floor, reaching the main staircase,” she answered promptly.
“Morning Sun will meet you on the way,” Lyra informed her.  “I don’t want her too close to the others just yet.”
Hermione agreed silently.  As the rest of her herd suspected, she knew that Lyra knew Morning was a changeling.  She also knew something her herd had no idea about, though:  That Lyra had observed Morning for a month, and had come to trust her- at least in part because even a changeling couldn’t falsify love bonds…  so, she was helping shield Morning from detection.
Less than a minute later, right about the time she reached the floor with the Hospital Wing, Morning charged up the stairs behind her.  She looked.  “Morning,” she greeted.
Morning wordlessly caught the strange girl out of the air, allowing Hermione to drop her levitation spell, and the two of them bolted down the passage for the Hospital Wing.
When the two arrived, Hermione was first- and she flung the door open with her magic.  “Madam Pomfrey!”
Madam Pomfrey, who looked to have been resupplying various small cabinets around the room- the hospital wing was empty- and heard them running up, bustled over, leaving her stack of towels on an empty bed.  “What happened?”
“Found her face-down in a puddle in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Hermione answered.  “I managed to get her breathing again.”  She took a breath.  “And restore her pulse.”
Then Morning entered behind her, and Madam Pomfrey’s eyebrows shot upwards.
Hermione glanced at the strange girl in Morning’s arms.  “She…  I didn’t see what happened, but I think she passed out while I wasn’t looking or something- wasn’t there when I entered.  Same puddle, but face up.”
Madam Pomfrey nodded.  “Alright, thank you.  Right over here, please.”  She indicated two beds.
Hermione placed Ginny on one, while Morning put the strange girl on the other, before walking around to sit next to Hermione at Ginny’s side.
Madam Pomfrey’s wand popped out of her wrist, and she pointed it at Ginny’s face to do a quick spell to mend her nose.
“Where’d your wand just come from?” Hermione asked.
Madam Pomfrey smiled.  “Little storage compartment, courtesy of Silversong, right after her Papa Tango.  Mighty convenient, I might add.”
“...  Oh.”
“Anyways, Ginnerva here is on the path to recovery- another…  Oh, hour or so, and she’ll finish incorporating your magic donation, restabilize herself…  and wake up.”
Hermione nodded, and let out a sigh of relief.  “Okay, thank you.”
“And by the way, you’re glowing.”
She looked down at her hands.  Her aura was back.
She rolled her eyes.  “Whatever.  Let it.”
There was a bright flash of icy blue light.





Hermione wobbled slightly, but managed to catch herself, when she reappeared in her seat.  “Woah…  So that happened,” she muttered, and looked at her hands again.  She didn’t feel any different.
“I believe congratulations are in order,” Morning muttered.
Hermione blinked.  “Nah, that was nothing.”  She waved it off.
Morning raised an eyebrow.  “...  Alright.”  She looked up at where Madam Pomfrey was looking over the other girl.  “She’s been looking her over, so you didn’t miss anything.”
Then Madam Pomfrey looked up.  “You did a good job on her too, Miss Granger,” she smiled, pointing her wand down at the girl once again.  “Rennervate.”
The girl’s eyes opened, and she took a sudden breath, staring at the ceiling.
Madam Pomfrey leaned into her field of view.  “Good evening, Miss Warren,” she greeted.  “How are you feeling?”
“I…”  The girl muttered, raising one hand to look at it as if she’d never had hands before.  “I’m feeling…”  She let out a sigh of relief, and dropped her arm back down on the blankets.  “Alive.”
“Well, there’s no doubt about that,” Madam Pomfrey answered.  “Anything more specific?  Good, bad, okay, or the like?”
Myrtle smiled back up at her.  “I don’t know.  It’s…  It’s been a long time.”
Madam Pomfrey nodded.  “Fifty years will do that to you, yes.”
“Fifty?” Hermione blinked.
Morning smiled.  “That’s Myrtle,” she answered.
Hermione tilted her head.  “Okay?”
“Like, Myrtle, the ghost Myrtle.”
“What-?”
“Yep!  You resurrected her!”
“I What-!?!”
Morning only grinned, while Myrtle and Madam Pomfrey watched.
“I-  I-” Hermione stuttered.  “I didn’t…  I didn’t even realize she was there.”
Morning let out a snort of laughter.  “So, you didn’t just resurrect Myrtle, you resurrected her accidentally.”  She looked up at Madam Pomfrey.  “That’s quite the feat, isn’t it?”
Myrtle just smiled.  “Thanks.”





Dumbledore was just moving to pick Mrs. Norris up again, this time to carry her to the Hospital Wing for Madam Pomfrey to watch over, when an owl swooped in the magically opened window to land on the desk and offer him a note.  When he took the note, it returned from whence it came- and the window promptly closed itself.
“You have a self-opening window?” Twilight asked Lockhart.
He shrugged.  “Kinda need it, with the amount of fanmail I get.  It’s either that, or make ‘em wait in the rain.”
“Neat.  I should probably look into a suitable self-opening charm for my library doors back home- then po-er, people would quit leaving them open.”
Dumbledore let out a whistle, reading the note.  “Miss Sparkle,” he began.  “How common are resurrections in your world?”
Twilight blinked.  “There’s been a few attempted, but the only one that ‘succeeded’ didn’t really succeed- the subject didn’t have a soul, so it lasted for about three days before it died again.”
He scowled slightly.  “I take it you don’t have ghosts?”
She shook her head.  “Not usually.  There have been a few, but they always need destroying, so nobody has ever tried resurrecting any.  Did something happen?”
He nodded.  “Miss Granger.”
She rolled her eyes.  “She’s resurrected a ghost, hasn’t she?”  She looked at Lyra.  “What’s your guess, Myrtle?”
Lyra nodded gravely.
Twilight rolled her eyes.  “And is it a real one?”
She nodded.  “Looked like it from afar.”
“Where is she now?”
“In the Hospital Wing,” Dumbledore answered.  “Why don’t we go meet her?”  He picked Mrs. Norris up, and started around Professor Lockhart’s desk, towards the exit.
Harry looked at Silver.  “Hermione’s in the Hospital Wing?”
Silver nodded.  “Ginny was unconscious.”
Harry blinked.  “How-?”
She shook her head.
“...  Alright.”
Lyra looked at Twilight.  “Tell us all about it?”
Twilight nodded, and turned to follow Dumbledore, Harry, Silver, McGonagall, and Snape out of the office.  Filch also headed out, but turned the other way.
> Chapter 51
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny’s head hurt.  Her chest hurt.  Her shoulders hurt.  Her- her entire body hurt.
Then, there was a noise.  It sounded…  a bit like a voice.  No, it was a voice.  It was…  It was a girl.  And…  And it was the sweetest, most innocent little voice she had ever heard.
Finally, she heard the words.
“Ginny?  Ginnerva?  Are you okay?  Um…  That is your name, right?”
She made a valiant effort to respond.  “Mwha?”
“Um, are you okay?”
She opened her eyes, and shook the pain out of her eyes.  For some reason, she couldn’t-
She very suddenly knew why she was unable to reach her own eyes to rub the blurriness out of them.  At the same time, everything snapped to perfect clarity.
She was in that strange, white space, where the goddess had spoken to her once before.  Inside her mind, the goddess had told her.
There was something black here, too.  It was huge, arching over her, holding all four of her limbs tightly, stretched out as far as they would go- like it was trying to rip her apart.  One last arm of the black thing was hanging right in front of her, forming a huge spike, pointed straight at her chest.
She stared at it.
“Ginny?  Um, Ginnerva?  Or…  Or do I have your name wrong?”
She looked.
There was another girl.  Also pure white, just like she was, but free- and, actually, climbing on the black stuff to reach her.  Behind the girl, she could see that the black stuff was reaching in through a blackened tear in the air.
“What…  happened…?” she asked, eyes wide, but too stunned to say anything.
“I don’t know,” the girl answered.  She was the source of the sweet voice.  “I…  I woke up, embedded in this black stuff, a long time ago- but I couldn’t move, and…  And I can’t remember anything before that.  I…”  She took a deep breath.  “I couldn’t sense, but I…  I seem to have access to your memories.  I think.  Then, just now, a bunch of white lightning came along and pulled me out.”  She shuddered- and nearly lost her grip on the black stuff.  “When…  When it did that, you…  You looked like…”  She could see the tears.
“It’s okay,” Ginny muttered.
“No, it’s not okay,” the girl answered immediately.  She pointed at the spike.  “That thing was in you.  The lightning forced it out- and you looked a bit like string cheese.  And kinda…  transparent, too.  Then it…  put you back together.  Made you…  Solid.”  She reached one hand over to touch her very lightly.
Ginny looked down…  and saw that her previously spotless white mind-body was now riddled with crisscrossing scars.  White scars, but scars nonetheless.
She looked up, trying not to give in to her terror.  “Who…  Who are you?”
“I have no idea!  You’re Ginny, right?”
“I…  Yeah.  So…”
The girl started tugging on the black stuff, but it didn’t budge.  “Ugh…  What even is this stuff?”
“So…  What can I call you?” Ginny asked, determinedly not thinking about the spike just waiting to impale her again.
The girl looked at her.  “I don’t know.  What do you want to call me?”





When Ginny awakened into the real world, outside of her mind, it wasn’t sudden, but it also wasn’t slow.  She’d spent a little while in her mind-realm, struggling to free herself, through which Ariel had tugged almost continuously on the black stuff, trying to free her.  Neither of them had gotten anywhere.
On the other hand, she’d been able to calm herself down, slightly- enough to realize that her heart had leaped for that girl in her mind as well.
She wasn’t sure how that was going to work.
But they’d eventually settled on a name to call her.  It wasn’t great, but it was something, for until she remembered her real name.
She opened her eyes, slowly.  She was lying on her back, in…  She had to pause.  The ceiling wasn’t familiar.
“That’s the Hospital Wing,” Ariel piped up suddenly.  “I recognize it.  No idea how, but I do.”
“Hospital wing?” she answered silently.  “Someone must have gotten worried when I fell asleep or something while writing a journal entry.”  She paused.  “And…  you can see out…?”
“Yeah.  It would seem that, while you’re…  um, awake, on the outside, I can see through your senses.  I don’t think I can actually go out there, and be my own person, but…”
Right at that moment, she felt a hand take hers, and squeezed gently.  She knew that hand- it was Hermione.
She looked.  “What happened?” she muttered.
“I was going to ask you that,” Hermione informed her.  Morning Sun was sitting next to her.
She sighed.  “I don’t know.  One minute, I was writing in my diary, and the next…”  She glanced up at the headboard; Ariel was right, it was the Hospital Wing.  “The next, I’m here.”
Madam Pomfrey cut in suddenly from her other side.  “Alright, you two are free to go,” she said.
Hermione looked up.  “Two?”
Ginny looked; as much as the bed opposite hers was occupied, it was by an amused-looking girl that was just sitting on it, legs hanging off, like she’d already been released.  Besides, Madam Pomfrey was looking directly at her.
“Is it just me, or is she referring to me?” Ariel asked.
“Good question,” Ginny answered her.
“Yes, two,” Madam Pomfrey smiled, before looking at Ginny.  “Unless your daughter is feeling unwell?”
“Wait, she has a daughter?” Silver asked.
“My…  daughter.” Ginny said slowly.
“Yes.  You can probably talk to her in your head, yes?”
“What?” Morning asked, mildly alarmed.  Madam Pomfrey ignored her.
“Uh…  Are you talking about Ariel?”
“Ariwho?” Hermione asked.
“You’ve already named her?” Madam Pomfrey asked, eyebrows raised.
She nodded meekly.  Ariel, she could tell, was just staring, too stunned to speak.
“Good for you.  Unless she’s feeling unwell, you’re good to go.”
“Wait,” Ginny muttered, sitting up.  “You said…  You said she’s my daughter.  How?  I- My cycle hasn’t even started yet!”
“Well actually it has, as of about an hour ago.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Madam Pomfrey smiled.  “To answer your question.  Some time ago, how long I’m not certain, some foreign soul fragment invaded your mind.  It was just a fragment, mind- effectively, just an anchor for the rest of the soul.  No clues left for who it was, though- those were all erased when you went through the Papa Tango, which affected it instead of you.  The fragment was reformed into a more complete Equestrian fragment- it then had all the facilities of a full, unbroken soul- even a mind of its own…  but still lacked the wellspring, memories, or anything else to think about, so will have laid dormant.
“Meanwhile, when it first invaded your mind, it was part of something called a horcrux…  which means there’s still a not insignificant part of dark magic spellwork that came in with it.  That spellwork has been draining your lifeforce- and, combined with the drain of maintaining a dormant soul fragment that didn’t have any of its own, you started running out very, very quickly.  You even got a few grey hairs, too.  Anyways, you ran out of lifeforce, and passed out from it.  The Killing Curse works by draining its target of lifeforce, after all.
“Enter Miss Granger here.  She found you drowning in a puddle on the bathroom floor- probably that horcrux spellwork, seizing control of your body and thrusting you into unconsciousness.  It actually didn’t matter that you were drowning, because you were already out of lifeforce, so her non-magical attempts to get you back were fruitless.”  She shrugged.  “But we both know her magical resources are without limit.”
Hermione blushed, and put her face in her hands.  “They are not without limit,” she stated.
Madam Pomfrey chuckled.  “They were not, at least.  We’ll get to that in a minute.”  She smiled, and looked back at Ginny.  “She gave you some fresh lifeforce, alongside so much magical energy that the core of your soul actually duplicated itself- and the new core merged with the soul fragment from the horcrux to turn it into a fully-fledged soul.”  She shrugged.  “Well, I say duplicated, but the two cores are entangled- for either one to die, the other must die as well.  As such, for as long as either Ariel or yourself are alive and in the flesh, neither one of you can truly die.  Though, you can still run out of lifeforce, drain each other, and die that way.”
Ginny looked at Hermione, and back at Madam Pomfrey.  “But…  If Hermione gave me lifeforce…  what about hers?”
She shrugged.  “When I last saw her, she had enough to last her about two thousand years.  When she walked in today, even though she’d given you, Ariel, and Myrtle over here each enough to last five thousand years, she still had enough for those two thousand years.  Now, though?”  She smiled up at Hermione.  “Literally no limit.  You’re actively producing more than you use- effectively, you’re immortal.  Even the Killing Curse won’t work on you, though a sword probably still would.”
“Uh, what?” Hermione asked.
“How does that make her magical resources unlimited, though?” Morning asked.
“Easy:  In every being I’ve seen except for yourself but including Ariel, lifeforce is converted at a constant rate into magical energy, among other energies required to sustain their being.  And besides, if Miss Granger created lifeforce, she created magic in the process- and anything that can use magic to create magic has infinite magic.”
“Did you say five thousand years?” the girl on the other bed, Myrtle, asked.  Ginny blinked- now that she thought about it, she looked very much like the ghost in that third-floor bathroom.
Madam Pomfrey looked over at her.  “Yes.  Provided nothing happens, you’ll live for about five thousand years.”
“What do you mean, except for Morning?” Ginny asked.
“Mm?  Oh, her kind are the scavengers of the lifeforce cycle.”
“Scavengers?” Morning blinked.  “I- I thought we were parasites.”
“Parasites?” Hermione asked, alarmed.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head.  “Maybe if you consumed actual lifeforce, but you don’t.  Instead, you absorb some of the energy by-products from that lifeforce conversion that other entities don’t use, and re-convert them into a different set of energy products that you can use.  You probably look like parasites in Equestria because Equestrians tend to hold that energy inside their forms, rather than releasing it to the environment- but British entities just expel the waste products you live on, without storing it at all.”  She shrugged.  “It’s a miracle that your kind evolved in Equestria instead of on Earth, really.”
“...  Oh,” Morning muttered.  “So…  what would we contribute to the ecosystem if we’re…  Wait, I think I know that one.  It’d also explain why we evolved there instead of…”  She took a deep breath.  “Because Equestria is home to literally hundreds of sentient species, which all look very different from each other- and developed their own languages.  That’s…”  She took a deep breath.  “We thought we were a byproduct of chaos magic turned loose, but we might well have been spawned by Harmony instead.  We…  They call us changelings because we can shapeshift, fit in literally anywhere.
“Which…  which would give us a unique ability to fit in with all the varied races, and help bring them together in peaceful conversation…  in harmony.  Which is what every creature in Equestria strives for.”
“You say there are so many sentient species,” Madam Pomfrey began, “But we only see humans attending hogwarts.”
Morning nodded.  “I…  I don’t know if I’m supposed to be telling you this, since it’s still an Equestrian National Secret, but…”  She took a deep breath.  “So, don’t tell anyone?”  She looked from Madam Pomfrey, to Myrtle.
Both of them nodded.
“Okay.  Um, the secret is that humans don’t exist in Equestria.  They’ve got a transfiguration spell of some sort on the gateway that pushes us into ‘local’ forms.”  She sighed.  “Of course, I can violate that easily, but…”  She shrugged.
“The Papa Tangoes can too,” Hermione piped up.  “Our Animagus magic lets us.”
> Chapter 52
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dumbledore let out a sigh as he walked up to the classroom that the Equestrians had turned into their base of operations.  Assigned Personnel Only, the sign said.  Only, he knew it was basically just a symbol, even if the wording was a bit strange.  The door wouldn’t open for anyone that wasn’t allowed.
He raised his hand, knocked three times, and entered.
As expected, the strange thaumic machine at the back of the room was oscillating.  He couldn’t remember what they had called it, right off- but it wasn’t important.
The moment he closed the door, the machine glowed briefly brighter- and then faded into nonexistence, to be replaced by a large wooden box that had been decorated with paint-by-number-quality unicorn drawings.  At the same time, the twenty anchored desks in the room vanished, to be replaced by a large conference table, at which there were many people already seated.
Princess Celestia looked up at him.  “Professor Dumbledore,” she greeted.  “I’m glad you could join us.”
Dumbledore bowed his head respectfully, as he moved forward, to his assigned seat.  “Thank you,” he returned, and scanned the gathered students visually.  Just like Princess Celestia, he was merely a member in this room, not a leader- and just like in the Wizengamot, or the International Confederation of Wizards, a quick visual search would often reveal who had information or ideas and who didn’t yet know what was going on.
As usual, there were none of the latter category in here- but he did notice one girl that he hadn’t expected, and his eyes locked onto her questioningly for a second.
Bonbon, seated next to the girl, smiled and spoke.  “Yes, she’s joined up, as Law Breaker.”
“Ahh,” he muttered, finishing his glance around.
Bonbon waited for him to finish before she continued.  “That said, Law Breaker is fairly new to our science division, and so won’t normally be present for tactical meetings.  She’s here today because while you took Mrs. Norris upstairs for examination, she remained behind to examine the scene- and found additional casualties.”
Dumbledore blinked.  “...  Miss Weasley and Myrtle?”
“Just Ginny,” Bonbon smiled.  “Myrtle was resurrected as an accidental side effect of her effort to save Ginny.”  She looked at Hermione Granger.
“Ginny was face-down on the bathroom floor,” Hermione spoke.  “Madam Pomfrey said a ‘horcrux’ had invaded her soul, been messed with by the Papa Tango, and drained her to the part where she had dropped dead.  I apparently arrived just in time to prevent that.  She also suggested Ginny could have been in the bathroom because the horcrux seized control of her body.”
Dumbledore heaved a sigh.  “It’s exactly like the old plan,” he muttered.  “I do not know what form that horcrux takes- I knew only that it was going to make its way into Ginny’s hands in some manner, and start controlling her to open the Chamber of Secrets.”
“You knew about it?” Bonbon asked.
He nodded.  “I knew it existed, and would make its way into her possession.  However, I do not know what it is- and since my scan last month failed to detect it, I expect that searching her possessions would also fail to detect it.”  He took a deep breath.  “It will likely only be able to take control of her while she is handling it, whatever it is.”
“Whose horcrux is it?” one of the other Agents asked.
“Voldemort,” he answered promptly.  He hadn’t been told much about them, but he had been told that they were the true masters that Twilight had turned to for the student instructor program, among other things.  By his understanding, they were the unsung heroes of Equestria- not too much unlike the Order of the Phoenix in Britain.
“And we have no idea what it is?”
Dumbledore shook his head.  “When I informed you it wouldn’t happen last month, that was after a school-wide scan failed to find any trace of it.  I have rechecked several times since- including before I came tonight- and still found no trace.”
“Though you said Madam Pomfrey said the Horcrux was messed with by my Papa Tango, right?”  It was Lyra, looking at Hermione.
Hermione nodded.
“So it’s possible,” Lyra went on, “that the Horcrux’ signature was modified- possibly well beyond recognition.  And considering where the Papa Tango was concentrated, it’s also possible it was irrevocably fused with Ginny herself in at least one way.”  She looked up at Dumbledore.  “Were those scans looking for a particular signature, Horcrux patterns…?”
Dumbledore shook his head.  “Horcruxes are undetectable to our magic, except by the presence of the soul fragment,” he informed her.  “If used carelessly, such a spell will detect people and other creatures as well, forcing them to be properly filtered out.”  He took a deep breath.  “If the Horcrux was transferred to her…  it may be entirely undetectable.  And the only way to destroy a Horcrux…”
He caught Hermione’s raised eyebrow.
“Ahem.  The only known way to destroy a Horcrux is to cause irreparable damage to its vessel.  For a living vessel, this would mean…  death.”
“Hmm,” Lyra muttered.  “A Horcrux is a soul fragment bound to an object by a mass of dark magic, right?”
He nodded.
“Then it shouldn’t have fully transferred to her.  If it had linked itself to her strong enough to mess up my Papa Tango- which would tend to explain why she didn’t seem to experience it- the soul fragment, and the soul fragment alone, would have been pulled out, upgraded with Equestrian matrices, and fused with Ginny.”  She looked at Hermione.  “Then you dumped so much power Ginny’s magical core duplicated itself, patching that soul fragment up into a full soul of its own…  but still tethered to Ginny.  And because it was Ginny’s core that duplicated itself into it, then tethered permanently to her, such that neither can die while the other survives.
“On the other hand, that dark magic spellwork would not have been drawn in- and would only be loosely tethered to her, and still based on that Horcrux object.  Which probably still has a mind of its own, but that mind is now just an echo, a memory, instead of an actual soul fragment…  enabling it to do some truly terrible things, since echoes don’t have consciences.”
“So Ginny is not the Horcrux, and we don’t need to kill anyone, then?” Hermione asked, looking distinctly worried.
Lyra nodded.  “Correct.”
“It sounds to me like our best line of defense is going to be Ginny herself,” Starlight Glimmer spoke.  “It…  could take a long time to do it that way, though, since she’s unlikely to remember what she was doing before she was…  possessed.”
“She has perfect recall,” Hermione announced.
“Convenient,” Shining Armor mused, rubbing his chin.  “After a few more attacks, she should be able to notice a pattern, and tell us what the Horcrux is.  Until that happens, our best chance of keeping any attacks from turning fatal would probably be a counteroffensive- to destroy the monster in the Chamber of Secrets…  or the Chamber itself.”  He looked at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore shook his head sadly.  “Many a Headmaster has searched Hogwarts for the Chamber of Secrets, including myself,” he informed them.  “We were unable to find any evidence of its existence, let alone location.  Especially when it was opened fifty years ago.”
“It was opened before?” Bonbon asked.
He nodded.  “There were a series of attacks…  which ended with the death of Myrtle Warren.”
Hermione and Lyra looked at each other.
“Considering she stuck around as a ghost and has now been resurrected,” Bonbon mused, “she might remember what it looked like- and, possibly, a clue for its location.”
Dumbledore bowed his head gravely.  He knew that this entire group, to a person, would lay down their lives to keep the students of Hogwarts safe.
“The thing I worry about with Myrtle,” Lyra mused, “is that she’s probably on a revivification rush.”
Bonbon scowled.  “Meaning, she could fall back to her normal sorrow at any moment?”
Lyra nodded.  “That’s what I expect- probably sometime tonight, possibly tomorrow, the wonder and novelty of being revived will wear off.”





Morning Sun could sense Myrtle’s fading cheer, and the deep-seated sorrow and worry underneath it.  Thus, even when Harry and Hermione left the Hospital Wing, she stayed behind- told even Ginny that she would catch up.
Ginny had long since recovered from her sorrow, and had cheerfully accepted her words and left the room.
“So, you’re…  Morning Sun?” Myrtle asked, still unsure of what to do.  Professor McGonagall was checking on her sorting status; after so long, they weren’t sure if she was still a Ravenclaw or not.
“Yes, that’s me,” Morning answered her.  “Are you doing okay?”
“Am I…  doing okay?” she repeated, nonplussed.
Morning nodded.  “You…  weren’t exactly happy as a ghost, and…”  She sighed, then looked at Myrtle in a silent question.
Myrtle blinked at her.  “...  Oh.  Um…”  She took a deep breath.  “My…  My life, before, was nothing but misery- people laughed at me for my glasses, and…”  She pushed her oversized glasses up the bridge of her nose again.  “Then when I…  died, everyone hated me, then made fun of me, and…”  She sighed.  “I…  I don’t see how I can avoid that now.”
Morning smiled gently.  “I can help,” she informed her.
Myrtle looked up.  “How?”
“The same way I’ve helped Ginny change her hairstyle so many times,” she answered shortly.  “Here, take my hands- then concentrate on a wave of green fire…  oh, fixing your eyes.”
“Fixing my…?  Okay.”  Myrtle was full of disbelief, but she accepted Morning’s hands, and closed her eyes.  “So…”
Morning could sense when it was successful.  She could feel, as she had with Ginny so many times, the foreign power flowing through her facilities, temporarily granting Myrtle her free shapeshifting capability.
The bright flash of green fire also wasn’t exactly subtle.
Myrtle twitched, but otherwise didn’t move.  The fire had also taken care of her skin blemishes, and done a few other tweaks to her body.  She was still recognizable as Myrtle- but she was, very suddenly, a pretty girl.
Morning released Myrtle’s hands, drawing hers back.  “Nice,” she informed her.
Myrtle, disappointed, opened her eyes.  “But that…”  She trailed off, then pushed her glasses up her nose.  Then she took them off, and started rubbing them on her robes- halfway through which she froze…  and, very slowly, looked up.  “...  I can see.”
Morning smiled.  “Who said the past had to be repeated, anyways?”
> Chapter 53
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Open.”
The sink sank down and out of sight, revealing a massive pipe behind it.  The carving had been discovered on the tap after Bonbon and Lyra had interviewed Myrtle halfway across the castle, only thirty minutes before.
Harry- who had been reluctant to step into this girl’s bathroom- peered into it.  “...  Wow.”
“Needing a Parselmouth would certainly explain why nobody found it before,” Hermione, standing next to him, muttered.  For reasons she rather suspected, it had taken all of three minutes to get Harry- and only Harry, annoyingly enough- cleared to learn about the Agency and her part in it.  Three minutes after she had mentioned that time the previous year when, during a casual conversation in the Gryffindor common room, Harry had mentioned talking to a snake in the zoo before he went to Hogwarts.
Lyra and Bonbon both bent down in front of the pipe to look down it.
“Climbable,” Bonbon announced.  “Covered in slime, though, no trace of sewage.  Slime appears to be biological in nature.”
“Pipe curves several times before passing through a ward barrier I’m having difficulty penetrating," Lyra noted.  "Curves are closely spaced, but erratic, even after descending below the lowest dungeon level.  No linkage to the sewage system, offshoot pipes appear to be a separate system with numerous additional ward barriers throughout.  Slime spotted in only some of them.”
“Could we be dealing with a Hive?” Bonbon asked.
Lyra shook her head.  “This is definitely not ‘Ling slime.  Looks like it came from some local biology…  One creature in particular, no other specimens involved.”
“That’s a lot of slime,” Twilight scowled, crouching behind Lyra to peek into the pipe as well, “for only one creature.”
Moondancer, crouching behind Bonbon, also scowled.  “We still don’t know what the monster is, though, or otherwise what to expect when we descend.”
Silence held for two seconds.
Bonbon held out a hand.  “Rope,” she ordered.
Heavy Load, an Equestrian boy that had been standing patiently behind them all, stepped forward to offer Bonbon a coil of rope that was larger than she was.
It didn’t bother Bonbon any.  She didn’t even overbalance, despite still being bent over to see down the pipe, when she took it, untied the end, and flung it out towards Harry.  “Spike,” she ordered.
Spike, who had been teased as being Twilight’s shadow, didn’t react.
Instead, it was Hard Stroke, a burly-looking Equestrian girl, that responded.  She stabbed the footlong spike in one of her hands through the tip of the rope and into the tile, then hefted the massive sledgehammer in her other hand to drive the spike deep into the tile with a deafening bang.  Finally, she turned the hammer over, fit the other side of the head over the end of the spike, and used the hammer as a massive lever to twist it ninety degrees.  “Locked,” she announced, before proceeding to sit on the hammer, still engaged with the spike.
“Descending,” Bonbon announced, and stepped into the pipe, walking slowly down it while she used the rope to keep herself up.  Lyra, Moondancer, and a team of other Equestrians- including both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna- immediately followed.
Finally, Hermione was the last with Equestrian hair.  She took the rope in her hands, and stepped into the entrance to the pipe.  “Harry?” she asked, looking back.
Harry nodded, and stepped forward, taking the rope to follow her down.  Behind him, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape all followed.  Lockhart had been busy replying to his fanmail, and so wasn’t coming.





It seemed to take absolutely forever to reach the bottom.  It didn’t exactly help that Bonbon stopped several times along the way.
Finally, though, the pipe let out into a dimly lit stone passageway.  By the time Harry, Hermione, and the teachers emerged, the entryway had already been well lit by numerous magical lanterns bobbing up by the ceiling, no doubt cast by the Equestrians.
Bonbon waited until everyone was out of the pipe- she still had most of her coil of rope left- before she looked at Lyra, and spoke.
“Slime patterns on the corners suggested a serpent of some kind,” she stated.  “Using the corners to push itself up the pipe and, at times, into the smaller pipes.”
Lyra nodded.  “Identification still negative.”  She looked down the passage.  “Passage seems to terminate in a decorated wall imbued with barrier wards.”
They set off down the passage.
The professors exchanged silent looks, then followed.  Dumbledore had explained to them what was going on- though, as Hermione had been sure to warn Harry, he was not aware of what the Agency really was, instead believing it to be a loose organization formed of a conglomeration of various experts.
It wasn’t long before they drew to a halt again.  They stood, quietly, at the back for only a few seconds, before Bonbon’s yell came down from the front.
“Parseltongue!”
Harry obediently moved forwards, various Equestrians stepping aside to let him pass.





Finally, Harry led the party back up the pipe, climbing up the rope.  He wordlessly stood to the side, in front of the stall Myrtle had haunted for so long, to watch the professors and Equestrians, including Hermione, emerge from the pipe, one by one.  Finally, Bonbon brought up the end of the line, coiling the rope back up as she went.  She stopped, one foot still in the pipe, to scan the crowd before she stepped clear of it and allowed the pipe to seal itself once again.
Once the pipe was sealed, the spike was twisted back and wrenched back out of the floor- leaving the floor completely undamaged- then everyone trickled out of the bathroom, one by one, and went on their merry way once again.  They hadn’t found anything except a large, carved stone chamber with a statue of Salazar against one wall.
Finally, Harry and Hermione were the only two left.
“Well,” Harry muttered.  “That was…  um…”
“Educational, I think,” Hermione said, the look of concentration she’d sported since long before they headed up still unbroken.  “And I think I need to go to the library.  I’m missing something.”
“...  Alright,” Harry answered.  “In the meantime, I suppose I should leave the girl’s bathroom and…  I don’t know.  Grade some homework?”
Hermione looked at him.  “And practice flattening your magic, remember.”  Then she blinked.  “Oh, and if you hear that voice in the walls again?  See if you can respond to it.  Order it to stop, go back to rest.”  She shrugged.  “Who knows, you might be able to prevent an attack.”
“Good idea.”
> Chapter Closed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry dodged the bludger for the umpteenth time.  For some reason, even the Weasley twins couldn’t seem to stop it.  If only he had brought his wand- he knew exactly the spell he could use to trap it in a six foot spherical shield, floating in midair, for hours.  But alas, he’d left it in his regular robes, down in the changing room.  He couldn’t even pull an Etrah magic trick on it- not only was he more than fifty feet in the air, but it was wrapped in the fabric of his robes and stored in a metal locker.
Then, he realized, he had just done something he hadn’t thought was possible.
He had made his broom back up in midair, to dodge the bludger.
He rotated in place to face the bludger, stared it down.  He had an idea.
Fred came charging in from the left.
The bludger dodged him, and shot straight for Harry’s nose.
Harry, meanwhile, dodged mostly backwards and a little upwards, and leaned to his left.
Then, he caught the bludger under his right arm, held it tight against his body.  He also held tight to his broom- and, while he could feel the ball struggling to escape him, he knew it was going to throw off his accuracy in a charge, meaning he would have to ditch it in order to have any hope of catching the Snitch.





It didn’t take long for the Slytherin seeker- Harry didn’t know the third-year’s name, but he did know the boy looked like a bodybuilder- to take notice, and start jeering at Harry for his erratic motions.
He looked, then drew to a halt.
Right there, over the Slytherin seeker’s ear, was the Snitch.
He made a snap decision.  Like what seemed to be all British slytherins, the boy wasn’t all that bright.
“What, would you like this bludger?” he called back.  Then he dove, shooting straight at him.  The bludger, of course, was messing with his aim.
The boy’s eyes widened in fear, then he turned and fled to the side.
As soon as the way was clear, Harry thrust the bludger behind him as hard as he could- and then, because its last push on him left the Snitch too far to his left, he took his left hand off his broom too and made a wild grab for the snitch, even as his right fielded his broom handle.
He made it.  He felt his fingers close around the tiny golden ball, and managed to regain full control of his broom a second later.  He made a sharp right turn, feet from the ground, to avoid the bludger he could hear behind him, whilst also glancing back-
Wham.
The other bludger slammed into him from the side, and he felt his elbow shatter before it plowed into his side.
He tumbled right off of his broom- but fortunately, that close to the ground, he didn’t have far to fall…  and neither did his broom.  He tumbled to a halt on the grass, and stared up into the sky for a second, wondering if the rogue bludger would attack him while he was on the ground.
It didn’t seem to be willing to do so; he spotted both bludgers shooting up into the air.
He listened to the commentary.
“Gryffindor seeker crashed into the ground after a bludger strike,” Lee Jordan was saying.  “Right after a spectacular dive.  Hope he’s okay.  Slytherin chaser Adrian Pucy still in possession, approaching the goal posts.  Pucy shoots- Wood dives- Nice save, by the Gryffindor keeper!  Gryffindor chaser Angelina Johnson now in poss-  Wait, what’s that in Gryffindor seeker Harry Potter’s hand?”
Harry had stuck his Snitch-containing hand victoriously straight up in the air, from where he was still laying on the ground.
There was a second of silence, and then-
“It’s the Snitch!  Gryffindor Wins, one ninety to forty!  He must’ve caught it before he crashed!”





It took almost thirty seconds after the win was announced before anyone else appeared over Harry, who had elected not to move.  He knew his elbow was broken, and wasn’t sure if he would be able to tolerate the pain from jostling it further.  It had, after all, taken him a few seconds to recover from his landing enough to raise his fist in the air.
Unfortunately, it was Lockhart.
“Oh, not you,” Harry groaned.
“Doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Lockhart proclaimed.  “Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll fix you right up.”
“Um, he should go to the Hospital Wing,” Ron Weasley’s voice pitched in, from the side.
Harry raised his eyebrow- it seemed a bit fast for Lyra’s ‘smartness lessons’, as she dubbed them whenever Ron was out of earshot, to have truly taken hold.
Then, Lockhart started brandishing his wand.
Harry closed his eyes tight, ‘flattened’ his magic as best as he could, and hoped, even prayed, that his concentration on forming a reflective shield between himself and Lockhart would be successful.
Then, there was a bang.  Harry opened his eyes in time to see Lockhart fall out of sight.  His elbow still felt broken.  He glanced at it, then looked up again.  “What happened?” he asked.
“Ow!- What- Oh.  Ahh…  That…  happens, sometimes,” Lockhart’s voice floated over.
Silversong trotted up and crouched down next to Harry.  “His spell backfired,” she answered, looking at Lockhart.  “I think he’s managed to vanish the bones out of his own arm.”  She looked down at Harry.  “And when he did that, the air between you and him seemed to be shimmering.  Did you do that…?”
He blinked.  “So it worked?  I blocked him?”
Silver let out a snort of laughter.  “Nice job, Harry.  You must’ve bounced it right back at him.”  She shuddered.  “Probably a good thing.  I’ve seen that spell- not familiar enough to try it, sorry- and it should have had no effect on his undamaged skeleton.”
Harry sighed.  “Alright then.  Madam Pomfrey?  I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay awake through walking.”
Very suddenly, Madam Pomfrey leaned into his field of view from the other side.  “Good thing you don’t need to, isn’t it, dear?”  She raised her wand, used the same spell Lockhart had tried, and straightened up.  “There.  How’s it feel?”
Harry sat up, and tested his right elbow.  “Good, thank you,” he answered.
Madam Pomfrey then turned, to where Lockhart was also sitting on the grass, frantically feeling about his right arm…  which looked more like a giant, inflated rubber glove than an arm.  “But you, dear,” she told him reproachfully.  “Broken bones I can mend in an instant, but regrowing them?”  She shook her head.  “You’re going to have to come with me to the Hospital Wing for the night.”
“But-!  But-!” Lockhart stuttered.
“Unless you would prefer St. Mungo’s,” Madam Pomfrey intoned amusedly.
> Chapter's End
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione Greeter smashed desperately at her dimensional jump handset’s control panel as the two of them flashed down the room.  Hermione Gate had happened to have wings- huge wings, which she was using as she carried Greeter almost effortlessly.
Unfortunately, though, her handset was malfunctioning, and so had dumped them into this situation.  Hermione Gate was bleeding, and Greeter had lost an arm- and now they were fleeing an even more deadly foe.  And they would die, unless she could get the module to get them out.
It…  worked, she supposed.  She felt the familiar jerk of the dimensional bubble it used to hop them between worlds, except that the bubble was far from stable, and practically ricocheted between worlds before it finally found one to merge into.
Wham.
She knew they had arrived mostly because of the pain.  The velocity compensator was shot, so they arrived with the exact same velocity as they had departed with.  She hadn’t expected that to be a problem, since Gate had a demonstrated ability to turn on a dime, almost quite literally.
But they had run into something.  She bounced and crashed against the ground before finally running into something solid that arrested her tumble as they slid to a halt.  She heard Gate’s blood-curdling shriek of pain as well, and hoped she hadn’t been hurt too badly.
There was a sudden rumble of thunder, and the ground shook.
She scrambled quickly to her feet, looking around- and had to pause.
There were two of Hermione Gate.  Or, at least, one of her, and another Hermione that looked just like her.  One was on the ground, shrieking in agony with one wing chopped off about halfway down the first bone.
And…  She looked towards the thunder.
They were right back where they had just been fleeing from.
The monster turned towards them, away from the wall they’d just barely avoided slamming into moments before, and roared in fury.
It only took her one glance at the Hermione on the ground- that must be Gate, the other either didn’t have wings or hadn’t unfolded them- to know that they were done for.
The other Hermione didn’t seem to think so, though.  She put one hand forward, and an icy blue dome of energy shimmered into existence around them.
The same icy blue as the levitation effect Gate had used a couple times, though a very different effect.
The strange monster’s unstoppable claw flashed down-
Boom.
The noise from the impact was incredible, and echoed all around, but the barrier stood.  The new Hermione grunted and fell to one knee, though.  As the monster lifted its masive claw for another blow, she turned to look at the other two.  “You!” she barked, pointing at Gate.  “Help me out!  I can’t hold it off alone!”  She then pointed at Greeter.  “And you!  Get that thing working and get us out of here!”
Gate gritted her teeth against the pain- at least the nanotechnology they’d gotten her mere hours before her handset malfunctioned had already sealed off her wound, just like Greeter’s had for her arm- and looked up at the newcomer.  “I can’t,” she told her.  “I can’t cast-!”
“Then give me your power!”  It wasn’t a request, nor a demand, but an order.
“What-!  But-!”
The claw smashed down on the barrier again, and while it still stood, cracks appeared- briefly- around the impact.
Gate let out a gasp of horror, swirled her hands in the air, and thrust them towards the newcomer.  A beam of pure white energy connected the two- then the monster’s other claw glanced off of the barrier with a bunch of noise but no sign of damage or strain.
Greeter struggled with her handset.  She’d have to short the fuse together again- which would not be safe, but she’d already used up her spares to get it as functional as it was.  She fumbled with the circuits, using what was left of her toolkit after much of it had gone with her left arm earlier.  The circuits were damaged, but if she twisted that, broke that, and shorted that, then-
She watched in horror as the dimensional control ring burned white and shattered, then the plastic around the power cell melted into a puddle of acids, which spilled over the circuits and started burning them to cinders as well.
They were marooned.
That control ring was easily the hardest part to manufacture, and impressively expensive.  Not to mention, they shattered just like that- an unstoppable chain reaction that took mere microseconds to start- without an active power source.  Unfortunately, that meant that while they were already impractical to carry around, it was virtually impossible to install a spare in the field, even if you did manage to carry one.  It was much, much easier to simply carry a second handset, but Greeter’s spare of those had been left on the Gryffindor table in Gate’s Hogwarts.
“We’re done for,” she moaned.  “Irrepairable.”
Very suddenly, her handset- and she herself, and Gate- were all surrounded in a massive shroud of the same, icy blue energy- and, with a sharp pop, they were very suddenly nearly three miles to the side.
All three of them.  The newcomer had come with, and lowered her shield.  “Irrepairable?” she asked, then she saw it.  “Ah.”  Her wand flew out of her pocket, and she pointed it at the device.  “Repairo.”
There was a bright blash of white light, and the handset looked completely undamaged once again- the case even sealed shut again!  The lights on the face blinked as it ran a self-test, then reported ready for jump.
“What…  How…?” Greeter asked.  “It’s too complex for that spell to manage!  Even the engineers can’t-!”
The newcomer shook her head.  “The rules are different when your unique talent is to break the rules.”  She sighed.  “First, get us out of here.  Second, tell me who you are.”
“Right,” Greeter mumbled, scrambling to her feet and lifting the repaired device in her one good hand, glancing towards the charging monster as she did so.  It would take a couple minutes yet to reach them.  “We’ll need physical contact.”  As she spoke, she punched in the coordinates to the Hermione’s Inc Hospital, then she held it out for the others to touch her arm.
Gate, tears streaming down her contorted face, struggled to her feet and rested her hand on Greeter’s wrist.  The newcomer, looking curious, cupped Greeter’s hand with her own.
Then, Greeter pushed the button.
This time, it worked exactly as designed, and deposited them into the hospital lobby.
There was a shriek of alarm and a few nurse-Hermiones ran forward.
The newcomer looked unsettled by the number of Hermiones around her.
“Sorry,” Greeter grumbled to her, as the nurses started pulling them towards the wardrooms.  It would take them only two hours, or so, to regenerate her arm- and only three for Gate’s wing.  “This’ll take a few hours…  You can wait here or come with us, if you want.”
The newcomer looked at her.  “I’d rather not get lost,” she stated.
Greeter shrugged, a limited effect with only one arm.  “Your hair isn’t exactly hard to spot amidst a sea of brown.”  She glanced sideways.  “And neither is Hermione Gate’s.”
“Hermione…  gate?” she asked.
Greeter was now completely certain this Hermione had never even heard of Hermione’s Inc.  She only had to hope that wherever she had come from had already run out of destiny energy.  And that her handset remembered where she’d come from- but chances were, it had not.  And without the coordinates, there was no way to find where any given person came from, only to tell whether they were in their home universe or not.  “...  Yeah.  Multidimensional Hermiones…  I’ll explain later?”
The newcomer scowled, but accepted it, before looking for and selecting a bench by the wall to sit in, arms folded and looking grumpy.





Hermione watched nervously as she waited for the two that had…  run into her?  What even had they done?
In any case, when she’d found herself so suddenly tumbling in that strange environment, her Agency training had gone to work.  She’d flipped herself upright and slid to a halt on her feet, already examining her surroundings.  She’d scanned her two companions’ tribes- the one that looked almost exactly like her, down to the wings, was even more like her than she looked- she was an Alicorn as well.
The other, who looked like an older version of her past self…  didn’t seem to have a tribe, but the device in her hand was emitting small power surges that seemed to be interacting with the worldwall- presumably, that was how she’d gotten there.  And judging by their tumbles, how they had gotten there as well.
So she had responded to the obvious threat- the monster bearing down on them.  When it turned out her power alone wasn’t enough to stop it cold, she had started issuing orders- and her clone performed a bit of a clumsy power transfer, but it worked.
Then she’d heard her brown-haired clone’s desperation- and teleported them away so she could divert her attention from defense.  She saw the damage…  and used the only repair spell she knew.
She hadn’t understood the device at all, nor the blinking lights- but her brown-haired clone had, and had told her she’d just done the impossible.
It wasn’t her first time.
So she’d feigned knowledge, and used what she knew about her Talent to explain why (or at least, what she hoped was why) it had worked for her when it never had for anyone else.
Then that device had gotten them here…  where there were even more clones of herself, mostly with brown hair, but there were some spashes of color every once in a while.  Hers seemed to be unique, except for the one she’d come with- with the damaged wing…  who the girl with the device had called ‘Hermione Gate’, then explained it as ‘multidimensional Hermionies’...
She understood that, though as she looked around the Hospital lobby, she couldn’t imagine why this many of the same person would want to come together- especially to staff a hospital!  Add that they’re all named the same…
She shuddered.  They almost certainly had some kind of naming system in place to tell them apart- like how that one had been Hermione Gate.  Though, with that thought, the various alternate dimensions couldn’t all be the same, could they?  As she looked, she spotted what looked like all kinds of personalities scattered about the lobby, engaged in all kinds of activities.  Not to mention the varied hairstyles- hers wasn’t the only one that stood out.  As a matter of fact, hers was one of the tamer stand-outs; one on the other side of the room had a head of fire instead of hair, but interestingly enough, her fire-hair wasn’t hurting her or spreading onto her clothes or the wooden bench.  Then there was the girl next to her- still recognizable as another Hermione, but her skin was all scaly, her eyes slitted…  and smoke curled from her nostrils every few seconds.
She did her best not to stare around, only wait patiently for Hermione Gate and the one with the device.
Eventually, someone sat down next to her, letting out a massive sigh.  She looked just like most of the Hermiones present- except that her hair was expertly styled, her clothes looked expensive, and her demeanor looked very much like Silver’s.
“Good morning,” she greeted.  Then she glanced up.  “Or…  whatever time it is here.”
The girl glanced at her, and smiled.  “First time at the Hermy-o-Nanny?”
She blinked.  “Uh…  I’m going to have to say yes.”
She shrugged.  “No biggie.  The Hermy-o-Nanny is a Void facility- there really is no morning, evening, or whatever else.  And we technically don’t have a fixed time, either.  Makes timestamping a pain, I can tell you.”
She let out a snort.  “I bet it would.”  She looked out across the crowd.  “Though with this much wisdom, you’d think they’d be smart enough to use a clock.”
“Well they did,” the girl grumbled.  “For a time.  Then the Clockless Association came down on their heads, and they didn’t have the firepower to fight them off, so they had to go without.  What’s your moniker, by the way?”
She shrugged.  “I don’t know that I have one, unless Hermione Granger counts.”  She glanced back.  “How about you?”
The girl drew herself up, grinning like a lunatic.  “Why, I’m Queen Hermione Granger the First,” she introduced, one hand on her chest.  Then she broke out into a fit of giggles, and leaned in to hug her.  “In my world, at least.  I’m Queen Granger here- not that I like it- and the founder of Hermione's, Inc.”  She paused briefly.  “I take it you’re new?”
She nodded.  “Someone crashed into me, and ended up snagging me along,” she informed her.  “I rather expect it was an equipment malfunction.  The thing was broken, after all.”  She paused.  “This is going to sound weird, but what are you the Queen of?”
“Earth,” she answered simply.  “It’s definitely not our prime path- and judging by your hair, you haven’t gone down our prime path either.  But I managed to unite all nations of the Earth, wizarding and nonwizarding alike, into just one nation under the personal rule of the Great and Benevolent Queen Hermione Granger the First…   in just four years after I started at Hogwarts, so when Voldemort appeared in my fifth year, he didn’t last very long.  It actually got as far as nuclear weapons, I understand.”
She tilted her head.  “I wonder what Dumbledore thought?”
“Dumbledore?  Oh.  In my world, Headmaster Argus Filch was as blind as he was stupid, but not caretaker Albus Dumbledore- he was actually the main reason I was able to achieve quite so much in so short a time.  He’s my right-hand man, despite being at least five times my age, and even pointed us to Voldemort’s horcruxes!”  She giggled at Hermione’s expression.  “I understand that our prime path has Dumbledore as the headmaster and Filch as the caretaker.”