If Wishes were Ponies . . . .

by tkepner

First published 11th of April, 2018

Harry Potter, after a beating by Dudley and friends — with the help of a real gang member — wishes he had somewhere safe to go, and starts crawling home. He ends up in Equestria. The CMC find him. A year later, an owl brings his Hogwarts’ letter!

Harry Potter, after a beating by Dudley and friends wishes he had somewhere safe to go, and starts crawling home. He ends up in Equestria. The young Cutie Mark Crusaders find him. A year later, a Hogwarts owl unleashes the CMC, Harry, and Equestria upon wizarding Britain! And adorable cute magic-wielding ponies upon the rest of the world.

Copyedited by gerandakis. Excellent cover art by Mix-up.
Made Featured Stories starting Ch. 18, Jun 25, 2018!
Made Front Page Popular Stories – Jun 11 (15), July 10-13, 16-17, 19-21, 23 (24-29), Aug 1-2 (32-33), 9-10, 13-14, 22-23, 24-25 (35-38, 41-42), Sept. 14 (49), Oct. 5 (57), 2018!

Inspired by Dogger807’s hilarious story, “Magic School Days,” here on FiMfiction. While there is humour (and tree-sap) in this story, that is not its only focus.

Wow, Sir Chaos Omega made a TV-Tropes page for the story! Thanks!

Published on the FiMfiction website with the kind forbearance of the copyright owners of My Little Pony (Hasbro) and the Harry Potter series (Scholastic Press).

The timeline for “My Little Pony” is messed up. That is, if you look closely, the order of the shows as aired is out of order of their logical sequence. Evidence: in Swarm of the Century (#10) we see the dresses that Rarity makes in Suited for Success (#14) — so unless Rarity time-travelled, #14 should take place before #10! Also, in The Ticket Master (#3), the other five seem to know Twilight and Spike quite well, yet in Boast Busters (#6) they don’t seem to know Twilight at all.

With careful attention to details such as those, you can put the three years of episodes prior to Princess Twilight Sparkle (#65, Season Four) into a two-year stretch of time. If you work hard enough, you can even squeeze them down to one five-season stretch of Summer to Summer.

I used the two-year seven-part timeline mapped out by deviantart’s tobyandmavisforever (do a Google search for “tobyandmavisforever mlp timeline” as the fastest way to find them). Thus, Harry arrives in Equestria shortly after the Crystal Empire two-part episode, and Twilight and Spike have been in Ponyville just under a year even though the Crystal Empire episodes start the third year of My Little Pony.

1 — The Great Escape, Pt. 1

Author's Notes:

I have been told the first two chapters are a bit over-the-top on how Harry was/is treated by the Dursleys, and isn't supported by canon as presented in the Harry Potter books. While this story deviates from canon portrayal of the Dursleys, I believe it was necessary in order to provide the impetus for Harry to end up where he does. The abuse is mostly described after-the-fact, and is implied rather than shown. But some people still take offense. Please be warned.

For those unfamiliar with metric/Imperial, here is a quick cheat: a meter is 3-inches longer than a yard, so when you see one, just use the one you are familiar with. For short distances, it won't make a difference (we are not doing rocket science here). A foot is 1/3 of a yard, so about 1/3 of a meter (30.48cm, actually). Six inches is 15cm. A mile is 1.6 km, so 1 km is about 2/3's of a mile.

And if you notice a mistake, please tell me. It is never too late to fix a mistake.

Dudley landed one last kick on Harry’s chest. “There,” he said with deep satisfaction, “Next time you’ll think twice before snitching to the clerk I snuck that lady’s fiver from her purse, won’t you?”

Harry gritted his teeth and tried to breathe as little as possible. Everything hurt just soo much.

A voice he didn’t recognize said, “Is that the best you can do? What a bunch of tossers.”

“Oi!” Dudley said. “He deserved it, ratting me out to that clerk. I think we did pretty good!”

“Yeah,” came the agreement from his two best pals.

The man, it had to be a man, his voice was too low to be a boy, said, “That’s not how ya give a beating! Look at you. You’re all breathing hard! You wasted too much time and energy in this.”

Of course he wasn’t doing anything to help Harry. The first time an adult sees Dudley’s gang in action and he wants to help them! Harry hated his life.

“Wot? You know a better way?” Dudley said cautiously, not quite trusting that this stranger who had caught them red-handed wasn’t going to start yelling for the bobbies.

“Sure do,” the stranger replied cockily. A pause, then “Wanna know?”

After a brief moment in which Harry could envision the three boys looking at each other came the answer, “Yeah.”

“Okay, you two pick him up.”

Harry felt Piers and Malcolm lift him to his feet, not that he could stand very well.

“Keep a good grip boys, don’t drop him. You.”

“Me?” came Dudley’s voice.

“Yeah. Make a fist, and hit him right here.”

Harry felt a finger poke him just below his ribs.

“Not hard, just a good solid hit.”

Harry tried to brace himself, but it was no use. The blow, when it came, took all of his air out of his lungs. He would have fallen if not for the two holding him. He tried to gasp, his mouth wide open, but couldn’t get any air. It felt like he was drowning and unable to breathe.

Dudley gave a sick sounding laugh, “Lookit his face! He looks like he’s a fish with his eyes popped out and his mouth opening and closing!”

“That’s the solar plexus. Hit someone there and they lose all their air. They can’t breathe. They’re completely at your mercy. Ya see, the lungs drop down below the ribs and hitting that spot forces them closed, pushing out ALL their air. And because the insides of the lungs are wet and sticky, they stay stuck together, it takes a long time, several minutes, before they come apart properly and he can breathe normally.”

“Now, knee him right there, as hard as you can.”

Pain exploded from his groin. He couldn’t even yell in pain, all that came out was a squeak.

“Did you hear that?” Dudley said excitedly. “He squeaked just like a mouse does when I stomp on it!”

“Yeah,” came the man’s voice. “The advantage of hitting him the solar plexus first is that he can’t call for help.” They all laughed. “Now the next target is right here.”

Harry felt a touch on his side towards the back.

“That’s the kidneys zone, one on each side. It’s kinda hard to hit ’cause you gotta angle up a bit as they’re somewhat protected by the ribs. Now, for most people it’s merely painful as hell to get hit there. But this guy, he’s already softened up. A solid hit there and he’ll piss his trousers for ya”

“Really?” came Dudley’s disbelieving voice, followed an instant later by a wave of pain from his side. His trousers suddenly felt warm and wet.

“Cor! That’s cool!”

“Okay, now you try it.”

“Me?” Polkiss said.

Harry felt them shuffle around as Dudley replaced Polkiss in holding him up. He passed out before Polkiss could get to hitting his kidneys.

He came to lying on the ground, face in the dirt. “. . . so if you’re interested I’ll be here next week and we can talk some more about me gang and you joining.” The man laughed, “Maybe even get in a little practice if yer cousin here shows up. Welp, that’s enough for today. Don’t wale on the kidneys or bollocks too much or you’ll put him hospital for weeks. Ya rupture a kidney and the constables take a right serious look for ya. And the bollocks? Well, too much on them and he’ll never have to worry about kids!”

Dudley laughed, “My folks would appreciate that!” He felt a foot kick him on the inside of his thigh, fortunately missing the target Dudley wanted.

Harry could hear some grumbling from the others, but the two holding him let him drop to the ground.

“And now what?” asked the man. “You just leave him here? Aren’t you worried he’ll tell someone you beat him up?”

Dudley laughed. “Naw. I’ll just tell my folks that he had a falling out with his gang and they beat him up. He knows better than to say different. My folks never believe anything he says.” He laughed again. “If’n Harry said the sky was blue my folks would call him a liar and lock ’im in his cupboard!

The man laughed as well. Then he said, “Well, tell you what, I’ll drag him a bit farther into the trees here so someone in the park don’t accidentally see him and call the constables.”

Harry heard the others walking away, discussing how much fun it had been to beat up Harry and who they were going to harass next. When their voices had disappeared he felt the man grab his arm and drag him some distance. The man mumbled to himself, “What a lark. Here I am visitin’ me cousin and I find those chumps. They’ll make good fall guys come the right time.”

Harry’s trousers, overly large castoffs from Dudley, were slowly sliding down his legs. He was finally getting his breath back and beginning to try to struggle a bit when the man dragging him stopped and punched him in the solar plexus again.

He went out like a light. When he awoke, it was late in the afternoon, and starting to get dark. He hurt everywhere, especially his groin and backside. The man must have kicked him several times just for fun.

He looked around blearily. There, beside his head, were his broken glasses. At least the tape had held. The man must have brought them along, figuring that someone finding just the glasses might report it to the constables.

Getting to his feet was a major accomplishment and took much longer than it should. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it had to be close to the Little Whinging Playground and Park. He couldn’t stay here, though. He pulled his trousers back up and pulled the belt as tight as he could.

At the very least he had to make it to the Durleys’. Even if they hated him, if he was hurt bad enough they would take him to the hospital. At least this time he wouldn’t have to lie too much, he could truthfully say a gang had beaten him up instead of saying he had tripped going down the stairs. He just wouldn’t say which gang.

Besides, he couldn’t stay out here all night, even if he might prefer it. His . . . relatives . . . got upset if he stayed out too late. It reflected badly on them if anyone saw him out late alone. And that man might come back.

One side of the sky was lighter than the other, so he headed towards the sun, figuring that must be west and the park was on the east side of the Durlseys’ house.

A few times he considered just collapsing where he was and waiting to die. Then, at least, he would be with his parents. They may have been drunkards, but he was sure they loved him.

He wasn’t making fast progress as he staggered from tree to tree while trying to keep to the same direction. Fallen tree limbs and trunks that blocked his path made that difficult. He stopped frequently as pain wracked his body. He fell repeatedly, and each time it was harder to get up.

He just wished there was somewhere else besides the Dursleys’ he could go. Miss Figg, his sometimes babysitter was right out. She’d just take him straight to the Dursleys. He wanted somewhere where he didn’t sleep in a cupboard under the stairs, somewhere where he wasn’t punished for things he didn’t understand or for getting a better grade than his lazy cousin. Somewhere where he was safe — or at least as safe as everyone else. Somewhere where he could belong. Somewhere where he was considered normal.

He lurched from the current tree supporting him towards the next but somehow missed it. That was particularly painful for some reason, and he rolled across the forest floor. He could no longer stand upright and had to push forward on his hands and knees. Funny that, he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. Actually, it felt more like he was crawling on only his middle fingers.

Vaguely, he knew something was wrong. He should have crossed a street by now. Even if he had gone in the wrong direction, he still should have stumbled onto a street or path of some kind. But the light was getting brighter ahead. Eventually he found himself on the edge of a field. He must have gone the wrong direction and had stumbled into one of the farms in the area. And hadn’t it been dark a few minutes ago? Or had the forest fooled him into thinking it was later than it really was?

He collapsed as he reached the edge of the forest. Standing again was right out. In fact, he couldn’t even push himself up enough to crawl on his hands and knees. He started dragging himself forward, pushing, kicking, with his legs. If he got into the field, out from under the trees, maybe someone would see him — the grass didn’t seem to be all that high, he could almost see over it.

He didn’t notice the new scratches and cuts he accumulated doing this. Their additional pain was lost in the blaze of everything else complaining about his treatment.

Finally, he stopped and just lay there in the grass with the sun on his back.

He could go no farther. His legs stretched out behind him and his arms in front.

Oddly, he couldn’t feel his hands or feet anymore. Wasn’t that a symptom of blood loss? Losing feeling in your extremities? Huh, maybe he was dying. Small loss. He wondered if his mother looked like his aunt. He hoped not. Well, he would find out soon enough. At least he would be back with his mother and father. No more Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, or Cousin Dudley to torture him.

He expected to fall asleep, but now that he wasn’t trying to move the pain wouldn’t let him. Rolling onto his side helped only fractionally. Breathing in short gasps helped keep his chest pains down. But everything below his chest was just solid pain. Breathe in, breathe out, not too fast, not too slow. That was all he could think. Nothing else mattered. Breathe in, breathe out, not too fast, not too slow.

It smelled like spring — moist soil and crushed grass. It reminded him of working on Aunt Petunia’s agapanthi, roses, and pansies in front of the house and in the back garden. A good, earthy smell. Funny the things you thought about when you were dying.

Sometime later, whether minutes or hours he couldn’t tell, he heard voices. From the pitch he thought they sounded like girls.

“I think it was over here.”

“Naw, it was farther this way.”

“I think it was closer to the trees.”

“How ’bout we form a line starting over thar. Scootaloo, ya'll get over by the trees, but not too close. Sweetie Belle, get over thar on the other side of meh. We’ll walk along the edge of the forest, that way we’ll spot whatever it is easiest.”

“Yay! Cutie Mark Crusaders Search and Rescue!” One of them cheered loudly.

It was quiet for a moment, then, “Look, over there!”

The voices were much closer now. He could hear soft footsteps on the grassy ground.

“I see it!”

“Celestia!” Cried one of them, “It’s a filly!”

Harry tried to move his head, but it was just too much effort.

The voices were right on top of him. “Oh, Celestia,” one of them half-whispered, “She looks terribly beat up.”

A third voice said quietly, “Is she dead?”

Harry struggled to move his head.

“Her ear moved!” The first voice said excitedly.

“She’s alive!” Said the third voice at the same time. “You can see the grass by her muzzle movin’!”

“Look at the blood on her pants, she’s hurt bad! We need to get her to the hospital, fast!” said the second voice. “I’ll go get my sister!”

“Wait Apple Bloom! I got an idea!”

“Well, hurry up Scootaloo, what is it?”

They were so excited they were talking over each other.

“I can go faster than your sister can carry her. I’ll get my scooter and cart and we can carry her there that way.”

“Well, what are yeh waitin’ fer? Get a move on!” Apple Bloom ordered.

Harry heard the sounds of two people running away. Breathe in, breathe out, not too fast, not too slow.

“What should we do?” asked the second voice timorously.

“Use your healing spells?”

“I’m not sure they’ll help. I mean they’re fine for small cuts and such, but for these . . . ,” said the other voice. “I’m not good yet.”

“Anythin’ is better than nothin’, AJ always says,” came the quick reply. “Start with those cuts on her face.”

Spells? Harry thought. Was he dreaming?

A warmness seemed to wrap around his head and a bit of the pain in his face went away. He hadn’t even realized his face hurt that bad until the pain lessened.

“Do ya think it helped?”

“Well, it didn’t hurt.”

“What are those strange clothes she’s wearing? They look more like rags!”

“Less fashion talk and more healin’.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Try each leg separately,” Apple Bloom suggested.

He could hear something coming towards them, a clanking, rattling series of sounds accompanied by a flapping, almost buzzing sound. What a strange noise for a motor to make.

“What took ya so long, Scootaloo?”

“Hey, I ran as fast as I could!”

“Park it here beside her. I think we can get her into it if we work at it.”

He could hear them walking around him. It sounded like six people, but he only heard three talking.

“Sweetie Belle, do ya think ya can lift her?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Uh-uh. As small as she is she’s still too big for me.”

“Uh, how about you lift her head and Scoots and I’ll lift the rest of her?”

“Maybe,” was the uncertain reply.

“Scootaloo, grab her belt. I’ll grab her blouse. Sweetie Belle, try to keep her head up.”

“Eww. Her pants smell like pee.”

Apple Bloom said, “Scootaloo, there ain’t exactly any toilets out here, and she isn’t in any condition to use one anyway. If’n it bothers you that much, I’ll do it.”

Harry felt something grab the back of his collar and lift at the same time something warm wrapped around his head. As Scootaloo lifted him by his belt he could hear a constant mumbled, “Eww, eww, eww.” He couldn’t really hear anything more as waves of pain wracked his body. Breathe in, breathe out, not too fast, not too slow.

It felt like forever, a forever of constant pain, until the three girls finished manhandling him into some type of wagon. They folded his arms and legs to get him to fit lying down on his side. Which was weird, he would have thought they would have placed him on his back. He had tried to open his eyes, but all he could see was the side of the cart. He gave up on that rather quickly, it hurt too much.

“Hey, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said after they placed him in the wagon. “Maybe you should tell your sister what we found. We got ta go right by the house, so why don’t you see if you can find her and we’ll meet you there?”

“Right!” came the quick answer, followed by the distinct sounds of a horse running off.

“Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo continued, “try to keep her head from bouncing around.”

“Okay.”

The next few minutes brought more pain for Harry. And a bit puzzling. He couldn’t figure out what was moving this wagon. That flapping-almost-buzzing sound wasn’t anything like any motor he had even heard before. He didn’t think about that too much as the cart bouncing as Scootaloo dragged it across the field introduced a few new bruises and tortured him with the bruises he already had. All he could do was concentrate on breathing.

Fortunately, Sweetie Belle did manage to keep his head from beating the wagon’s floor like it was a drum and his head the drumstick. Although, he wasn’t sure how she managed to do it as he didn’t feel anyone’s hands or a blanket cushioning him. He did hear the hoof beats of a horse beside him though. For some reason he smelled apples.

Apple Bloom had found her sister, apparently, for when they stopped some time later he heard a woman’s voice say, “Celestia! Ya'll’re right, she is a real mess!”

“Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, yeh take her on to the hospital. Apple Bloom is going to show me and Big Mac where ya found her. She might have had someone with her who didn’t make it out of the forest. Now git!”

Almost immediately he heard three horses taking off back the way they had come, followed a moment later by that weird flapping noise and the wagon starting to move.

“You keep her head safe, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo called from in front of him.

“Uh huh.”

The ride, while still painful, was much smoother now, and faster from the sounds of it. Apparently they were on some kind of a road now.

When Scootaloo started yelling “Gangway! Emergency! Coming through!” at the top of her lungs he realized they must have reached the town. There was a sudden decrease in speed and Sweetie Belle yelled, “I’ll get the doors!” He heard the sound of hoof beats on a wooden ramp and the rolling sounds of wheels on wood. He figured the hospital was at hand.

The authoritative voice of a woman loudly protested, “Hey, you can’t ride that thing in here!”

“Emergency!” yelled Scootaloo, “Hurt filly! Real bad!”

More hoof beats, then, “My word! Bring her over here!” A moment later he heard, “Doctor Well Heart to reception, STAT! Doctor Well Heart to reception, STAT!”

Oh yeah, Harry knew he was in a hospital now. But why were there horses here, he wondered. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the wooden side of the wagon he was in and the ceiling over his head. And it hurt to keep his eyes open, so he just closed them again and concentrated on breathing — in and out, not too deep, not too little.

“What happened?” the reception nurse asked. “You can let her down now, honey,” she said to Sweetie Belle.

Before the other girl could answer Harry heard a horse clip-clop into the room and over beside him.

“Me and my friends, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, were working on our cutie marks — you know, crusading? — when we saw something over by the edge of the Everfree Forest and we thought it was a hurt animal, maybe a deer, so we ran over to see what it was and found her and at first we thought she was dead because of the blood and all the cuts and stuff but then we saw her ear move and saw her breathing so we got my scooter and wagon and brought her here as fast as we could and is she going to die?” Scootaloo managed to say all in one breath.

“I tried casting the healing spell I know, but it’s for small cuts and then I kept her head from bouncing in the cart as we raced over here,” Sweetie Belle added. Then said quietly, “I feel dizzy.” There was the thump of someone sitting heavily on the floor.

The Doctor, meanwhile had been, gently lifting and examining Harry’s head, arms, and legs. Funny that, he could feel his arms and legs moving, but he couldn’t feel anyone’s hands doing the lifting. Maybe he was closer to dead than he thought. He couldn’t find the energy to get worked up over that. He smiled, thinking maybe soon he would see his parents.

“Where’s Apple Bloom?” asked the nurse.

“She took Applejack, and Big Mac to where we found the filly. Applejack said there might have been someone with her,” Scootaloo explained.

“Right,” said the Doctor after a moment, “we need to get her into the examining room there. I’ll lift her.”

Harry expected to feel someone pick him up but instead he just drifted up into the air as a warm blanket of air seemed to move under him. He opened his eyes again, but everything was a blur, although he did see several horses standing around. He wondered where the doctors and nurses were. He closed his eyes again. They hurt and the movements around him were unsettling.

“Nurse, sound the alarm bell. First send the code for the Guard to go to Sweet Apple Acres by Applejack’s old tree-house. Second, send the code for all hooves on deck in-case there are more casualties. If not, it’ll be a good drill.”

“Yes, Doctor,” came the rapid response of a different woman and the clip-clop-clip of hoof beats fading away. Why were they riding horses in a Hospital?

“Here, honey, drink this water. You’re not hurt are you?” said the original nurse

“I’m just tired, I think,” Sweetie Belle said. “I kept her head from bouncing around in the cart while we ran here.”

“That’s quite a distance to run while keeping up a levitation spell, honey, you did very well. Just rest here a bit, okay?”

“Uh huh,” came the tired response.

Any further conversation cut off as the Doctor carried him into another room. He heard a curtain slide as the Doctor gently laid him down.

“First, we need to take off these clothes,” the Doctor said quietly. Harry felt air swirl around first his right arm and then the other as his shirt was cut apart. Moments later, his trousers followed. No loss as far as he was concerned. They were rags anyway, but Aunt Petunia would throw a wobbly anyway over him ruining another set of Dudley’s cast-offs.

Harry could hear the sound of a large bell ringing in a pattern of clangs and quiet. The codes the doctor had ordered, Harry guessed.

“Why is she bleeding there?” came Scootaloo’s voice.

From the slight scrabbling of hooves Harry got the impression Scootaloo startled the Doctor’s horse. “Ah, well, first, you are not supposed to be in here.”

“Ah, come on, I brought her all the way here, can’t I watch?”

“No, I’m sorry, but out you go.” From the clipping, clopping, and sliding sounds Harry got the impression that the Doctor was rather forcefully pushing the girl out of the room. “And, by the way, he’s a colt.”

“What!?” came the startled reply.

After that it was quiet except for the Doctor’s mumbling and the scratching of a pen on paper as he made notes. Oddly enough, as the Doctor moved around Harry, the pains and aches were slowly decreasing. They didn’t go away completely, but he was definitely feeling better. Huh, he’d never had that happen before. Usually it took a couple of hours for that to happen. And he thought he’d been hurt too bad this time. A vague sense of disappointment settled over him. He wasn’t going to see his parents after all.

The quiet didn’t last long as soon there was a flood of hooves entering the hospital in response to the warning bell.

“Ah, Doctor Heart, is this the new patient?”

“Hi, Doctor Horse, he is at that. Quite a mess, really. Two black eyes — multiple orbital fractures — split lip, numerous contusions and lacerations all over, especially the forelegs and chest. He clearly dragged himself in the dirt for quite some distance — need to make sure those are cleaned before we heal them. Some kidney damage, two broken ribs, the rest all have cracks of various sizes, swollen testicles from blunt force impact, and . . . ,” he sighed deeply, “. . . this.” There was a pause, then he added, “Not to mention chronic malnutrition and starvation. Based on his size, his weight is low by a quarter, and his height has been similarly affected, I would guess. No telling how old he is though and what he really should be in weight and height.”

“Found near the Everfree?”

“Yep.”

“That’s a letter to Canterlot and an investigation.”

“Yep.”

They both sighed.

“Keep meticulous records.”

“Oh, yeah, I plan on it.”

“Guards?”

“Haven’t heard back yet.”

“Have you put him to sleep yet?”

“That’s next. He’s almost out already. Wanted to check for head trauma first. That’s about the only thing he doesn’t have. Might as well do it now.”

Harry didn’t hear anything else as he abruptly blacked out.

2 — The Great Escape, Pt 2.

The next thing Harry, knew he was waking up in the softest bed he had ever felt. It felt more like a cloud than a bed, actually. Was he dead and this was heaven? It had to be — he wasn’t in severe pain like he should be after the beating Dudley and his gang had delivered. He did have a few aches and pains, but nothing like he would have expected from his cousin and gang. Well, it couldn’t be Heaven then, as he couldn’t believe that Heaven would allow pain to disgrace the experience. And that meant he wasn’t going to see his parents. He still was stuck in this miserable life.

He sighed.

But for the moment, he just wallowed in the feeling of not waking up in a cramped cupboard on a rickety and uncomfortable camp bed in horrible pain.

There seemed to be a light in his face, so he decided to roll over.

That was a bit of a challenge, as he discovered. He ended up thoroughly tangled in the sheets, but at least he was facing away from the bright light. He sighed contentedly and tried to go back to sleep. He’d never had that chance with the Dursleys. His Aunt always woke him at dawn to fix breakfast during the week and expected him to wake himself on the weekends — she didn’t trust him with an alarm clock, she had said, and didn’t want to waste the money for something she knew he would break. And promising he would take good care of it earned him a hard cuff upside the head and no dinner.

If breakfast wasn’t waiting when Uncle came downstairs on the weekends there was hell to pay, and Harry was always given the bill. His recovering from a bad beating was no excuse to slack-off, in their opinion. He had learned to always wake just before he needed to. And, today, he didn’t need to.

Princess Celestia stepped elegantly from her chariot, leaving her mid-morning raspberry snack-bowl behind. She was a pure-white pony who towered over all her subjects, easily three times an average pony’s height, with over ten times the mass. The six Pegasi Guardponies were doing their best to stifle their heaving sides in a vain effort to show their ruler that they were unaffected by the flying sprint they had made from Canterlot to Ponyville pulling the Princess’s coach.

She offered a soft, “Thank you,” and nodded as she gracefully stepped past them, tactfully ignoring the sweat dripping off their sides. She could have made the trip faster herself, but it always depressed her little ponies so much when she showed she didn’t need their assistance.

Another dozen were spread around her, keeping the civilians at a respectful distance, not that there were any in the area. It was, after all, a normal day in Ponyville and the hospital didn’t attract crowds except in dire emergencies. And the news of her planned arrival hadn’t been made public.

On the other hoof, every window on this side of the building had one or two ponies observing. For the residents, it was always an honour for her to show up in Ponyville. There were many towns larger than Ponyville which had never had a visit from their Princess. But Princess Celestia had visited Ponyville several times in the last year, and the little ponies were proud of one of their rulers’ attention to their little dale.

“Captain Armor, what more do you have for me?” she said to the white-coated unicorn stallion waiting outside the hospital, her soft voice making him shiver slightly.

“The unicorn colt was found at the edge of the Everfree forest yesterday in the late afternoon by three fillies. They were in their treehouse after school, in Sweet Apple Acres, section Sierra forty-two, when the Pegasus filly noticed what looked like an injured deer near the forest at the edge of the orchard. Applejack, the mare in charge of the farm, was able to show us where they found him. She had already explored a short way into the forest, following the trail the colt had left as he dragged himself to the farm. Four guards were able to backtrack his trail for almost half a mile into the forest before they lost it. When I arrived this morning I sent a decade with an experienced woodspony, but they were unable to track the trail any farther. The rain late last night possibly obliterated some of the signs of his trail. No trace of any other ponies were discovered, nor was there any evidence of whatever injured the colt.” The two of them walked to the hospital doors.

“The unicorn colt was being held unconscious by the doctors until your arrival, to keep things simple and to allow him sufficient time to recover. They cancelled the spell when your chariot was spotted and he should be waking soon.

“He is severely malnourished due to chronic starvation and somepony has savagely beaten him, leaving him with damaged kidneys and a crushed testicle — his injuries were not inflicted by an animal as there are no bite marks nor any claw marks. He was near the point of death when he was brought in.

“The fillies no doubt saved his life. If they hadn’t noticed him he probably wouldn’t have survived the night, especially that close to the Everfree.

“His recovery has been unusually rapid, however. Most of his minor injuries are already healed, His kidneys and testicle will be by the end of the day.”

The Princess stopped at the doors and looked down at him. “His kidneys would normally take at least a week, and the other should be permanent without extensive and powerful healing magic,” she said in mild surprise.

“Yes, the doctors say it is absolutely certain that he is using his own magic to aid in his recovery, something which has never been seen before in a unicorn pony so young nor anypony when they were unconscious. If this is common for him it might explain how he has survived his many past injuries.”

She nodded in understanding, and said, “Past injuries. One of the reasons I am here.”

The Captain of her guard opened the doors for her as she entered the building.

The Ponyville Hospital had not been designed with Alicorn Princesses in mind, so she had to duck her head and crouch slightly to go through the doors. Once inside she had to keep her head level with her withers as they were only a hoof-length or so from the ceilings inside. She expected that should she ever visit this hospital again she would find all the doors rebuilt to accommodate her easily. A larger town would build a new, higher-ceilinged hospital to avoid the embarrassment of forcing their beloved ruler almost to crawl on her knees in order to enter!

Doctor Well Heart was waiting for her just inside, bowing deeply with the rest of the reception area staff, as she approached. He and the others looked chagrined at seeing her undignified entry to their hospital.

She rolled her eyes. “Rise, my little ponies.” Naturally, whenever she entered a room, everypony bowed. Some even prostrated themselves on the floor. It was so tiresome. And it wasted so much time. After a thousand years she knew the futility of trying to convince her subjects that such acts were unnecessary in all except the most formal of occasions.

Nervously, the Doctor said, “The patient is this way, Your Highness.”

Considering how tall she was, that wasn’t an honorary title.

He started down the corridor ahead of her. “As I mentioned in my report,” he swallowed, “the colt has many scars under his fur and most of his major bones — skull, scapula, femur, pelvis — it would be simpler to list the exceptions — have been broken at least once. He shows signs of chronic starvation and poor bone development. Body–fat ratio is almost zero.” He sighed. “All told, I think his condition is not something new and is something he has lived with for a long time. He appears to be only four, but could be as old as five, six, or seven.” He shook his head sadly, “It’s just criminal what the ponies responsible have done to him.

“Anyway, we’ve been using a feeding tube so he is properly hydrated now. He should have gained a bit of weight from the feedings, but the extra calories are disappearing as fast as we can get them into him. We think his phenomenal recovery rate is linked to that. In any case, at least he hasn’t lost any additional weight.”

He stopped beside a closed door with two guards, one either side of it. They moved out of her way, the second one grabbing the door handle in his magic and opening the door. She again had to crouch down to enter the room.

It was a standard single-bed hospital room. She stared at the pitifully small figure huddled on the bed, a neatly arranged blanket covering most of his body but leaving his head and withers exposed. His cheeks were sunken, his bones vividly outlined, and his coat dull, clearly showing the signs that he hadn’t eaten well for some time.

Harry woke again as he heard a door open and the clanking of people entering — why were they wearing metal shoes? Two sets were evidently bigger than the others as their steps were deeper in sound from the larger shoes and heavier weight. And touched floor at much longer time intervals — obviously taller with a longer stride and not simply extraordinarily fat like his Uncle.

Harry was not a fool. That had been beaten out of him years ago. He kept his eyes closed and his face relaxed as if he were deeply asleep. It was important to get as much information as possible before the others (at home it was the Dursleys) discovered he was listening — or in this case, discover that he was awake. Knowing what was going on and what to expect before anyone noticed him had saved him from many a beating from the Dursleys.

“And this is the poor colt?”

“Yes, my Princess.”

“Oh, dear. I was hoping that your reports exaggerated a bit.”

“Unfortunately, no, my Princess. Much as I might so wish it,” came Doctor Well Heart’s response. “If anything, the reports fail to disclose the seriousness of the issues.”

“He looks as if he has never had a decent meal,” Harry heard her say as her deep voice came up to the side of his bed. “He’s almost all just skin and bones.” He heard her step closer.

Her voice came out softly as she said, “Open your eyes, little one. I know you’re awake.”

Damn.

He opened his eyes and had to blink several times to understand what he was seeing. Directly in front of him were two fur-coated knees. Fur-coated? Were they leggings of some kind? How weird.

Beyond them he could see an open door flanked by two small horses wearing golden armour with matching golden helmets. And the helmets had plumes atop them like the ancient Roman soldiers used to have. Where were the men who rode them? And why were horses in the hospital?

He turned his head and looked up. And up. This was not someone wearing fur-coated leggings. This was a giant non-human monster of some kind. On the monster’s . . . chest? . . . was a gold band of some kind with a purple, diamond-shaped gem on it. Above that were shoulders so tall that they almost brushed the ceiling. She was easily four-times as tall as he was, making her at least fifteen feet tall — that meant this room had ridiculously high ceilings.

And it still wasn’t high enough for her. Her neck was far longer than a human’s and her face — her eyes were huge, each as big as both his hands together, with ears like a dog or cat on top and a long nose that was more of a muzzle, again like a cat. She was far too tall to stand upright and so she bent her neck low to keep from bumping her head into the ceiling, with her enormous mouth mere centimetres above his ear.

Her head was huge, he thought, as big as his entire body. Her maw was gigantic, more than big enough to snap off his head in a single bite and swallow it. But what grabbed his attention was the giant spike of a horn, with an indecently sharp point, coming out of her head and now hovering over him.

She could easily spit him like a pig on it and dine on his dangling arms and legs like some kind of unspeakable, mobile feast.

Absolutely, definitely, not human. Not even close to human.

She opened her monstrous maw for the first nibble.

Harry did what he thought any nine-almost-ten-year-old would do in such a situation.

He screamed in mortal terror and flung himself off the bed away from her. The window was too far for him to attempt a jump from the bed, and once he was off the bed he was too close to the window to build up enough speed to make it completely through and jump high enough to reach it. That meant he would miss the window and hit the wall anyway.

He used his legs against the bed’s frame as he launched himself at desperate speed towards the outside wall. He wasn’t sure if he could, but he was definitely intending on going straight through it. He just hoped it wasn’t a brick wall. And that he was on the ground floor. If not, well he would worry about that later.

It didn’t work. He slammed into the wall with a loud crunching noise that made every pony in the room wince. He rebounded from that wall, staggering. He next flung himself with reckless abandon at the wall that stood across from the foot of his bed. He twisted his body so that his other shoulder took point. He hit with maximum concentration of force. He almost made it through that wall. There were the sounds of the wallboard shattering and its supports breaking. That noise covered the sound of any injuries he might have suffered. Through the new cracks in the wall he could see the startled expressions of the inhabitants of the other room — all horses.

He would need to back up all the way to the bed for another charge to break through the wall. He doubted the monster would allow time for that. He couldn’t escape this way.

With a tenacity and determination gifted to Harry by many years of Dudley’s “Harry Hunting,” Harry looked towards the door as he fell back to the floor. The monster was only now starting to turn towards him and giving him a small opportunity at scooting between her legs and into the corridor. Unfortunately, even as he gathered his feet underneath himself for a third frantic charge to freedom, one of the horses by the door was already moving to block his escape route. He might have been able to dodge through the monster’s legs, but the much smaller horse could easily block and catch him.

He was trapped, just as Dudley and his gang had trapped him once before at school. This time there were not any convenient roofs nearby for a wind magically to carry him up. He didn’t try to stand up. He closed his eyes and dearly wished with all his might that he was back at the edge of that forest.

With a distinct POP, Harry disappeared from the hospital room.

Harry fell to the ground. He stared around himself at the grass, then craned his neck up to see where he was. Trees were not far away in both directions. On one side was the dark forest he had dragged himself through, on the other were clearly orchard trees. Miracle of miracles, he was right back where he had been when the girls had first found him!

He needed to get away from here for they surely would search this place again to find him. He braced his arms preparing to push himself to his feet. That was when he noticed that his arms were covered in red fur and instead of hands he had hooves. With a lump in his throat that felt like his heart, he looked at his legs to see the same thing. Still not breathing from the shock, he turned his head sharply and looked down at his side. He saw a field of red fur with gold-coloured splashes and a horse’s tail that was a solid black.

Horrified, he screamed again. He struggled to his feet, or hooves in this case, only to collapse back on the ground screaming at the unexpected pain as his broken shoulders, cracked ribs, and over-strained muscles failed to support his weight. What had happened to him? Had he died and then been reincarnated as a horse? Was he in Hell? How would he put on his trousers without hands?

He looked around wildly and saw nothing but the grassy field and the apple orchard in the distance. He dropped his head back down to the ground and just panted, hyperventilating, panic-stricken and too stunned to do more — both from his extreme exertions, magical shock, discovering his form, and the pain from his newest injuries. He passed out.

For a moment there was bemused silence in the hospital room. The Princess looked at the shallow colt-shaped depression in the plaster on the wooden outside wall and then the colt-shaped almost-hole in the other wall. She sighed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a reaction like that to my presence.” She turned her head to look at the flabbergasted doctor. Dejectedly, she said, “Do you think it was something I said?” Sighing, she awkwardly started backing out of the room.

He turned his head and looked up. And up. This was not someone wearing fur-coated leggings. This was a giant non-human monster of some kind. On the monster’s . . . chest? . . . was a gold band of some kind with a purple, diamond-shaped gem on it. Above that were shoulders so tall that they almost brushed the ceiling. She was easily four-times as tall as he was, making her at least fifteen feet tall — that meant this room had ridiculously high ceilings. And it still wasn’t high enough for her. She was far too tall to stand upright and so she bent her neck low to keep from bumping her head into the ceiling, with her enormous mouth mere centimetres away from his ear.

Her head was huge, he thought, as big as his entire body. Her maw was gigantic, more than big enough to snap off his head in a single bite and swallow it. But what grabbed his attention was the giant spike of a horn, with an indecently sharp point, coming out of her head and now hovering over him.

She could easily spit him like a pig on it and dine on his dangling arms and legs like some kind of unspeakable mobile feast.

She opened her monstrous maw for the first nibble, her teeth gleaming an unholy bright white, with faint traces of red lining them at the gums — blood from her previous victims, no doubt.

Harry did what he thought any normal nine-almost-ten-year-old would do in such a situation.

He screamed in mortal terror and flung himself off the bed away from her. He used his legs against the bed’s frame as he launched himself at desperate speed towards the outside wall. He wasn’t sure if he could, but he was definitely intending on going straight through it. He just hoped it wasn’t a brick wall.

The window was too far for him to attempt a jump from the bed, and once he was off the bed he was too close to the window to build up enough speed and jump high enough to reach it. That meant he would miss the window and hit the wall anyway. He hoped he was on the ground floor. If not, well he would worry about that later.

He slammed into the wall with a loud crunching noise that made every pony in the room winch. They then stared in disbelief out the window at the rapidly disappearing colt. His legs were churning so fast they were circular blurs.

One of the guards softly said, amazed and impressed, “I’ve never seen anypony run so far so fast . . . and on twolegs! I can barely balance on my rear legs and take three steps without falling . . . but look at him go!”

Pinkie Pie poked her head out from under the bed, looked at the perfect profile outline of a colt in the wall, spiky mane and tail, and all, and disapprovingly said, “Hey, cartoonish behaviour is my shtick!”

For a moment there was bemused silence in the hospital room. Then the Princess sighed, “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a reaction like that to my presence.” She turned her head to look at the flabbergasted doctor. Dejectedly, she said, “Do you think it was something I said?” She looked back out the window to where the colt had vanished around a curve and frowned, thinking a moment. “Maybe he doesn’t like raspberries.” she murmured. Sighing, she awkwardly started backing out of the room.

3 — Lost in Space

“Scootaloo, get down!”

“Why?”

He was lying on his back with his head turned to the right, Harry realized.

“You’ll get us in trouble!”

“Neigh. No one’ll care. See, the guard over there hasn’t even blinked.”

The voices were familiar, as was the name.

“Doctor Heart certainly will! Now, get down.”

“No.”

Oh. He slowly remembered, these were the voices of the ones that had found him and taken him to the hospital. Considering he wasn’t feeling hard ground, or even grass, underneath him, he was probably back in the hospital. In the background he faintly could hear sawing and hammering. He wondered what they were building.

“I’ll make you!”

“Just try!”

There was the sound of hooves on a wooden floor, a moment of silence, and then the bed shook slightly as if someone had jumped on it.

Harry’s head felt fuzzy, almost like he had a cold. And there was an unusual pressure on his forehead. He assumed it was a bandage.

Hooves! That’s right! They were horses! He was a horse! For a moment he almost succumbed to panic and started breathing heavily. He realized immediately the danger in doing that. Any sudden moves or changes in what he was already doing would alert everyone that he was awake. Especially if they had any kind of electrical monitors on him. Fortunately, the squabbling girls masked any noise he made.

Scootaloo said, “Hey! Quit shoving, Apple Bloom!”

“Then get down,” came the growled response.

Harry knew he had to remain calm, he had to delay them realizing he was awake while he tried to understand what was happening. He had years of experience doing that with Dursleys, listening around a corner to see what kind of mood his Aunt and Uncle were in before they saw him. It had saved him many a beating to know he should make himself scarce for the day or evening, or at least as unobtrusive as possible.

There was some grunting sounds, then Scootaloo saying, “Woah!”

“Hey, le’ go!” said Apple Bloom, followed by a thud.

“Ow,” Apple Bloom moaned softly.

“Ha! Serves you right for pushing me off,” Scootaloo said.

“Geroff me, you blockhead!” was the angry reply.

Who was he kidding? Harry thought. He hadn’t a clue as to what was going on! The only thing he knew for sure was that the three voices he had heard, these three girls, had been trying to help him. And his reaction the other day was silly. Why would someone bring him to a hospital just to let a monster eat him? And who called a monster Princess?

There came a heartfelt sigh from his left, startling him. “And there they go, again.”

It was the third girl of the triad.

“Ow,” “Hey!” “Le’ go!” and the sounds of the other two scuffling came to him.

“Oh, you’re awake!” said the one behind him. He heard the clip-clop of her hooves as she went down the length of the bed, across the bottom, and then back up to face his head. Darn it! He hadn’t managed to fool her. How had she known?

He remained absolutely still, an easy task after years of training from the Dursleys.

“You can’t fool me,” she said. “I know you’re awake, I can see your ear swivelling around listening to those two idiots brawling again.”

His ears. Now that she mentioned it he could feel his left ear twitch every once in a while. Right. He was a horse, now, wasn’t he? His ears weren’t stuck to the sides of his head, they could move. He would have to learn to control them. He would worry about how he ended up here later, for now he needed to survive. The same for why he was a horse. At least they didn’t think he was a monster!

“And . . . now it’s lying down, so admit it, you’re awake!”

He sighed softly and opened his eyes to a small slit to look at her. She had a white coat with a two-tone purple mane. Unusually, though, her eyes were huge, taking up most of her face! She also had a small horn with a spiral cut in it sticking out of her forehead. Did that make her a unicorn?

She pumped one hoof into the air, exclaiming softly, “YES, I knew it!” in response to his tacit admission. Behind her he could see a soldier horse standing beside the door and pretending to be a statue like the Queen’s Guards at Buckingham Palace always did. He also had a horn, but much bigger as fit his larger size. His eyes were a bit smaller in proportion to his head, but still were at least as big as a large apple!

Oddly, the door he was standing beside was different from Harry’s other room. The wall that one would normally expect to see above a door was gone, with new unpainted moulding now framing it up to the ceiling. The door itself looked like someone had glued an extra piece onto it to make it fit the newly enlarged doorway. The monster . . . Princess . . . wouldn’t have to crawl through the door the next time she came to see him. If he was still here.

The girl horse stared at him intently, “What’s your name? Mine’s Sweetie Belle.”

After a moment considering the benefits of playing mute — there really didn’t appear to be any — he said “Harry Potter.”

“Hahry Potter,” she repeated slowly, sounding out his name. “You’re looking much better than yesterday.” She said critically, turning her head a bit sideways. “That’s the second time you almost died. You had us really worried.”

Suddenly there were two more horses propping themselves up against the bed by their forelegs. “Ooooh, he’s awake!” said the orange one with a very ruffled purple mane.

“I’m fine,” Harry said reflexively, despite the evidence to the contrary.

After a moment’s study, a yellow one with a red mane and red bow — the bow now askew and her mane as ruffled as the other girl’s — said, “Yer pretty tough, ya know. Ah’ve never heard of a pony making a dent in the walls like ya did.”

“His name’s Hahry Potter,” Sweetie Belle informed the others.

Then came a barrage of questions: “What happened to ya in the Everfree?” “Who beat you up?” “Did you fight a manticore?” “Why’d you run away?” “Was anyone with ya in the forest?” Did you fight a timber wolf?” “Whar do ya live” “Who taught you to teleport?” “Do ya have yer Cutie Mark yet?” “Was it a chimera you fought?” “What’s your cutie mark?” “What grade are you in?” “How’d you get into the forest?” “Can you teach me to teleport?”

The other two stopped and looked at Sweetie Belle.

“Really?” said Apple Bloom.

Sweetie shrugged her shoulders.

They all looked back at Harry.

“Um,” He said. “I, uh, I was alone in the forest. And, um, I was trying to get home.”

After an uncomfortable pause, he added, “What’s teleport?”

“Horseapples!” muttered Sweetie Belle under her breath.

The girls didn’t notice but Harry did as the soldier standing beside the door behind them opened it a crack and said something to someone outside, then quietly closed the door and pretended to be a statue again.

“Do you have a cutie mark? Doctor Well Heart and Nurse Redheart wouldn’t tell us. They just looked at each other funny and said we’d find out later.”

Harry looked at the three horses and frowned.

“What’s a cutie mark?”

They were aghast at his ignorance. And quickly told him that a Cutie Mark on your butt told everyone what your talent was. The thing that you would be best and happiest at doing.

Really? What was his talent, then? Cooking, cleaning, and gardening? It was what he was good at — but he hated doing it.

Harry had to wonder if he had died in the forest or if he was in a coma at a hospital.

However, he had heard that you can’t dream pain and he had certainly felt the pain when he had reappeared in the forest escaping that monster/princess.

He tried to move his arm and discovered it wouldn’t. He turned his head and looked, afraid he would see straps or chains restraining him, holding him down, and stopping him from escaping again. What he did see was a cast reaching from his shoulder half-way to his elbow, with his arm . . . leg . . . held suspended by a set of bars, ropes, and weights over the bed. His other arm was similarly constrained.

Seeing where he was looking, Scootaloo said, “Oh, yeah, your withers are broken on both sides. You hit those walls pretty hard.” She looked impressed. “The doctor said you’ll be wearing them casts for a week or so as the bones heal.” The other two nodded in agreement. Scootaloo frowned and mumbled, “Ain’t never heard of bones healing that fast, though.”

He thought he might as well be chained to the bed, he certainly wasn’t going anywhere like this.

Harry stared at them. Even his limited knowledge of hospitals, mainly from listening in his cupboard while the Dursleys watched Casualty on Saturday evenings, told him that they don’t usually let three unrelated, as in non-family, girls . . . fillies . . . into a patient’s room. Especially not if there’s a constable guarding the door! Finally he said, “Why? Why are you here?” He glanced at the constable worriedly.

“Oh, the Princess said that if’n we were here when ya woke up maybe ya wouldn’t panic and try to run through a wall again, seeing as how we’re the ones that found ya to begin with. And that since we’re only a bit older than you, ya won’t think we’re out to hurt ya,” Apple Bloom explained.

Clearly, neither they nor the Princess had ever had a run-in with Dudley, his gang, or other bastards of that ilk. He envied them that naivety.

Apple Bloom added darkly, “Although ma sister did say something about us causing co-lateral damage.”

He shrunk in on himself slightly at remembering the rest of the events from yesterday. Maybe that was what the hammering was about, they were fixing the damage he did. His uncle would be most displeased about the bill for that!

“Yeah,” added Apple Bloom, “The Princess was real worried about ya.”

Hesitantly, he asked, “She’s not gonna eat me is she?”

The girls looked shocked at the thought. The soldier by the door broke his impassive expression enough to give Harry a look of sheer disbelief.

“What in Equestria gave you that idea?” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “She’s a pony, we don’t eat meat!”

Biggest damn pony he had ever seen! And horses did too eat meat! He’d seen a magazine article about how the Tibetans fed their horses blood-soaked hay to get them protein during the long winters, that Alexander the Great’s horse, Bucephalus, was a notorious man-eater, and many other terrifying examples.

“Except maybe fish every once in a while,” added Scootaloo. “Pegasi need to ’cause of all their flying.”

Ha! He knew it!

Scootaloo hopped up onto the bed. He stared at her small wings that buzzed like a large hummingbird to help her. Was she a Pegasus? First unicorns, and now a Pegasus? What was next? A hippocampus? A centaur? How about a dragon or two?

The girls stared at him as he returned the favour.

Before they could say anything else there was a knock on the door. The soldier faced the door and lowered his head slightly to point his horn at whomever-it-was that was coming in as the door slowly opened. It was the doctor that Harry had seen before. The soldier stepped back, but still kept a close eye on the new horse . . . pony.

He smiled broadly at Harry, “Ah, good afternoon! How are you feeling today? I’m Doctor Well Heart. I saw you when you first came in, although I doubt you remember me.”

“I’m fine.”

Scootaloo quickly jumped down as the other two fillies dropped their hooves to the floor and shuffled out of his way.

Like the soldier, he had a horn. Harry was amazed to see a slight glow surround it as the blanket covering him was pulled down to his hips, but not so far as to be immodest. The stethoscope around the doctor’s neck floated up to his ears and the other end glided into position against Harry’s chest. At the same time a clipboard floated up beside the doctor’s head where he could easily see it as he worked. For the next several minutes the doctor moved the stethoscope around Harry with the occasional comments of “take a deep breath” and “breathe normally.”

Harry felt more than a bit self-conscious at realizing he wasn’t wearing any clothes as the little fillies watched, but then he realized neither were they wearing any clothes — they all had fur, including himself. In any case, he saw that while his fore-shoulders had casts covering them down to his elbows, everything else below that seemed to be perfectly fine. He spent the time studying his new form. His coat was red and gold — which was more predominant was hard to tell. His hair . . . his mane . . . was a solid black. He remembered his tail was also black, but as the blanket currently covered it he couldn’t tell for sure if that memory was correct.

The girls had moved to the other side of the bed and were whispering to each other.

Finally, the doctor stepped back. “Well, everything seems to be healing up nicely. In fact you’re doing much better than I expected, your cuts have all healed up with almost no scarring. The casts will need to remain for two weeks, maybe less, if things progress the way they have for the last two days. Your weight is distressingly low, so we’re going to be working on that!”

The doctor sighed.

“Now then, for the other stuff.” He gave Harry a sympathetic look. “First, what’s your name? I can’t just call you ‘the colt in Room Eighteen!’” He gave a nervous laugh.

“Harry Potter.”

The doctor made a note on his clipboard. “Excellent! And how old are you?”

“Nine. I’ll be ten in two months.”

The doctor, and the girls, stared at Harry. He was far older than they had suspected. In fact, he was older than any of the fillies by a year at least despite being so small.

“Now then, Hahry Potter,” the doctor paused uncertainly, “do you know where your parents are?”

“They’re dead. Died when I was only a year old.”

Apple Bloom suddenly looked sad and propped herself against the bed again while putting her right hoof against his side as if she were trying to console him. The other two simply sat at either side of Apple Bloom and leaned against her.

The doctor nodded slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said although he didn’t look sorry in the slightest. In fact he almost looked relieved. “And who has been taking care of you?”

“I wouldn’t say they’re taking care of me, but I live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin,” Harry said in a flat tone that said ‘don’t ask more.’ The doctor winced at his tone. The fillies looked curious.

“Can you tell me their names?”

Reluctantly, Harry said, “Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley.”

“Petunia and . . . Ver-none . . . are your aunt and uncle?” the doctor said hesitantly, unused to the foreign sounding name.

Harry nodded.

The doctor frowned darkly and made another note.

“Do you know where they are?”

“Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, although Uncle Vernon is probably at work at Grunnings Drills in London right now.”

Every pony stared at him. “What?” managed the doctor after writing that all down as best he could.

Harry frowned and said, again, slower, “Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.” The doctor made some adjustments to his notes.

At their continued blank looks, he added, “You know, in England.” Their expressions remained the same, so he added, a bit sarcastically, “Right beside the continent Europe and above Africa? In the Atlantic Ocean? The Eastern Hemisphere? Earth?” Incredibly, none of those answers seemed to ring any bells of recognition. Harry rolled his eyes.

Doctor Well Heart looked at his clipboard for a moment, made a few more notes, and then shook his head slightly.

“And that’s where you live as well?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, unhappily. “In the cupboard under the stairs.” He felt his eyes widen. He hadn't meant to say that. If he had had his hands free he would have clapped them over his mouth.

Doctor Well Heart’s eye’s narrowed as he slowly repeated, “In the cupboard under the stairs,” while writing that information down. He paused, staring at what he had just written. He took a deep breath and said, “Well, do you know how you ended up in the Everfree Forest?”

Harry was getting cold chills now — and not because he wasn’t under the blanket anymore — and started shivering. “I was in the woods beside the Little Whinging Playpark. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was, but it was late afternoon and I knew I needed to get back to the house or Uncle Vernon would be mad. They really don’t like it when I’m out after dark. They say it makes them look bad to the neighbours.

“Anyway, I started walking towards the west because the park is a few minutes to the east of where my relatives live. I walked for a long time, and fell down a few times, but then I walked into a field and fell down again. I was way too tired to get up. Then girls found me. You know the rest.”

“And how did you get your injuries?”

Harry looked away. He didn’t want to say anymore, but he knew they wouldn’t stop asking questions. Not that it really mattered. Every time he had told an adult about his relatives, they always asked questions, got angry, and then the next day forgot all about him.

“I fell off the playpark climbing bars,” he said.

Harry had read once that the definition of insanity was doing the exact same thing over and over again and yet being surprised that the results were always exactly the same each time.

He was not insane. This time would be the same as the rest, he knew.

The doctor gave him a disbelieving look. “Climbing bars?” he said incredulously.

“Several times,” Harry added reluctantly.

The doctor added an arched an eyebrow to his expression.

Harry just looked at him. And then he realized that the doctor’s expression wasn’t because he didn’t believe Harry fell off the climbing bars, it was because horses wouldn’t have climbing bars at their playparks. If it weren’t for the casts, Harry would have face-palmed himself.

But then again, these weren’t people, were they? They were horses . . . ponies. Maybe this time it would be different. He sighed heavily.

“My cousin and his gang were playing Harry Hunting and this time they caught me,” Harry mumbled quietly. Unfortunately, the room was so quiet that all could hear him clearly.

The doctor stared at him, both eyebrows raised in shock. “You mean to tell me that your cousin did all that to you?”

Harry looked away nervously. “Him and his friends.”

“And they’ve done this before?” he asked darkly.

Harry looked away, but when he looked back the Doctor was just staring at him.

Harry sighed and said in a low voice, “Yes, but only when they could trap me or I wasn’t quick enough in running away. I should have been faster. It’s my fault they trapped me.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes as he stared at Harry. After a minute of silence, the doctor shook his head again. “Well, that’s all for now.” He looked at his clipboard again. “Okay, I’ll have the nurse bring you something to eat. I want you to eat as much as possible. You need to gain a lot of weight before you’re at where you should be.” He turned to the three fillies. “Fillies, I want you to make sure he eats. I know you just got out of school and want a snack, so there’ll be a little extra for you three as well. Don’t filch any off his plate, okay?”

They nodded earnestly.

He pulled the blanket back up to Harry’s shoulders with that weird glow around his horn. With a last look at Harry, and a shake of his head, the doctor turned and left the room, closing the door carefully behind himself.

Harry could hear some yelling outside in the corridor, but not the words. It sounded like the doctor was very mad at someone. Harry thought it wasn’t him the doctor was mad at — he had seemed quite pleasant when talking with Harry — but you never can tell with adults. Harry shrank as far down into the blanket as his casts would let him get, just in case.

4 — Patients Are Not Playparks

The three fillies stared at Harry with wide eyes. They had never heard of anypony whose relatives treated her so bad. Scootaloo’s parents, while not the most engaged of parents, still managed to give her her own bedroom in her aunts’ home, made sure she had the things she needed for school, and that she ate properly. What do you say to somepony when you discover they’ve been heavily abused?

Harry just stared at the ceiling. He would see if anything different came of this new situation. He didn’t have much hope for that. Now that they knew more about him, that he was a freak, he knew the three fillies would soon abandon him as all the other kids his age had done. They, or at least their parents, wouldn’t want them to associate with someone like himself. After all, only freaks required beatings to make them normal.

His bones didn’t ache nearly as much as they should. He wondered how long he had been asleep. Normally, the day after Uncle Vernon or Dudley broke one of his bones, it hurt like the dickens, and every move was agony. The second day was a vast improvement, but still any movement brought a bit of pain. By the end of five days things were back to normal.

On the other hand — or was it hoof, now? — he had never had a cast before to hold his broken bones together. That had to make a difference.

In the meantime, he started to itch. Not all over, of course, just in those places where it would be impossible to scratch due to his restraints. And now that he had started to think about it, there were several places that just itched terribly!

Scootaloo jumped up onto the bed and began examining the various ropes and pulleys dangling over his bed. She pushed on one rope. Harry’s right arm shifted up, twisting his cast slightly.

There was a minor twinge of pain, making Harry blink in surprise. Based on that it had to be the third day, meaning he had been asleep for nearly two days. That was bad. He needed to eat. If he went too long without eating it became very difficult for him to stay awake and move around.

“Scootaloo! Don’t do that!” Apple Bloom ordered.

“Aww. I’m just trying to figure out how these things work.” She moved her hoof off that rope to another.

Harry’s right arm settled back, but now his left shoulder lifted. That didn’t hurt, but it gave him an idea on how to deal with the itch right there beside the cast. The girls hadn’t run off in disgust yet, but after telling their parents about him he was sure they wouldn’t return. He should probably take advantage of their presence while they were here.

“Um,” Harry said, trying to wriggle his shoulder against the bed, “Could one of you scratch my shoulder, here?” He tried to point with his nose. Sweetie Belle moved around the bed and propped herself up against it, extending a hoof to his neck, “Here?”

“No, more to the back, right at the edge of the cast.”

She moved her hoof towards his back.

“Just a bit farther. . . .”

“Can’t,” she said, “you’re not high enough.”

“Scootaloo,” he said, “Lift me a bit higher.”

Eventually, through trial and error, Harry was twisted mostly to his right and Sweetie Belle managed to find the spot.

“Oh, yes, that’s it,” the colt crooned. After a moment, he added, “That’s enough, now right between my shoulder blades about ten centimetres down, do you think you can reach it?”

After a explaining he meant a hoof-length or two, it took a coordinated effort by all three fillies to get him almost sitting up. The three fillies pushed or pulled various ropes to accomplish that feat. It hurt a little bit, but no more than a mild toothache. The kind where you can’t seem to leave the little bugger alone, you just have to keep poking at it to see if it still hurts. And it feels so good when you stop. But getting that itch scratched was more than worth it.

Just as he was about to tell Sweetie Belle that she had taken care of that itchy spot perfectly his room’s door opened. He glanced over at it as a new doctor walked in. She, he assumed it was a she from the length of her hair, was a unicorn and had a dark brown coat with a yellow mane and tail. Her higher voice confirmed his guess.

“What are you doing?” she cried out as soon as she realized what she was seeing, taking a half-step backwards.

Already precariously balanced and startled by the sudden yell, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle slipped and fell into the ropes. Apple Bloom simply fell off the bed with a thud and an “Ow!” Harry, on the other hand, was yanked up into a standing position — that is, standing like a biped and not a quadruped — then dropped and flung onto his face as first Sweetie Belle and then Scootaloo managed to extricate themselves from the ropes by following Apple Bloom’s example and falling off the bed.

“AHHHH!” cried Harry at the sudden and unexpected change of position. “OWW!” all four foals said from their new positions a moment later.

With his face buried in the bed, Harry reflected that maybe asking the fillies for help in scratching his itches by playing with the ropes wasn’t that great of an idea. At least now the pain from his casts did a marvellous job of masking the itches. And pain he could handle. But still, probably worth it.

The nurse, when she arrived in answer to the yelling, was not pleased. Harry knew she was a nurse because she wore a nurse’s hat with a red cross on it and was all white. And she had a name tag that said, quite clearly, “Nurse Redheart.” She had neither wings nor a horn.

She soon had Harry on his back, his arms suspended properly over the bed, and his pain rapidly fading back to normal levels. The three fillies were each sitting in a separate corner of the room, with their noses firmly placed at the intersection of the walls in each respective corner. Their ears were all swivelled towards Harry so they could hear what was going on when they couldn’t see.

Nurse Redheart finally left with much grumbling about meddling fillies. Just before she closed the door, she said, “One little peep out of any of you,” and she stared at each filly in turn, even though they couldn’t see it, “and out the door you go! And I don’t care if the Princess wants you here!”

After a moment’s silence, the new pony, who had observed everything from a position beside the Guardpony and staying well out of the way of the irate nurse, stepped closer. She said, “Good afternoon, Hahry Potter. I am Doctor Deep Healer.” She, too, had a clipboard floating alongside her head. “I’m a unicorn specialist.” She sat beside his bed. “Now, I’ve been told that you managed to teleport. Is that correct?”

Harry blinked at her, then said, “I guess, if you say so, ma’am. I don’t know what teleporting is.”

She gave him a long look, then explained, “Teleporting is disappearing from one place and reappearing at another, which can be some distance from the original place. Most adult unicorns never manage that skill as it takes a great deal of concentration and power. And even then they can only manage a ten or twenty thousand celestials, fifty thousand at most, without a lot of practice. For someone as young as you to successfully do it for the distance you covered, almost three thousand celestials, is unheard of.” She gave a brief smile. “That’s why I was called in. To determine the extent of your magic abilities.”

“There’s no such thing as magic,” was Harry’s reflexive response, as his Uncle had beat into him.

The doctor leaned back and blinked in surprise. The three fillies exchanged surprised looks from their respective corners. “’Course there is!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “Yeah,” added Apple Bloom, “we all have magic! Scoots to fly, and me to the earth!”

As soon as Harry had said that, though, his eyes turned to the clipboard and feathery pen floating beside the doctor’s head. His Uncle and Aunt had always insisted there was no such thing as magic, even going so far as to turn off the telly anytime there was a show that had magic in it or just mentioned the word. And Harry could still hear his Uncle’s voice as he declaimed, “All magicians are frauds who fool people with smoke and mirrors.”

Now, watching that clipboard hang in the air as if it were resting on a table, he had to wonder. Where were the smoke and mirrors? And then there was his sudden change in form from human to pony. If that wasn’t magical, what was?

On the other hand, he had read magazine articles in the library that explained how scientists were trying to determine if things such as telepathy and other so-called “mind arts” existed. The evidence was contradictory and almost never could be done a second time by someone else in a scientifically controlled experiment. But that it happened in the first place meant things were not as black and white as some people believed.

And then there was the famous quote from the science-fiction author Arthur C. Clarke, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Perhaps that was what magic was, a highly advanced technology that the ignorant lumped together under the misleading label of “magic.”

“At least that’s what my uncle and aunt always said,” he added softly.

The doctor was obviously rethinking her approach as she pursed her lips and hummed.

“Has it ever happened that when you wanted something really badly, like candy or a cookie, it just seemed to fly to your hooves?”

He slowly shook his head. His Uncle and Aunt would have severely punished him if they had ever seen something like that happen. Just thinking about it made some of his scars twinge, and those were from things his relatives had accused him of without anything indicating he was responsible! If they had actually seen him doing something so freakish . . . . Well, he shuddered to think what his Uncle would have done to him.

He thought about some of the odd things that had happened in his life that had gotten him punished. “My teacher once had his hair turn blue. And another time I was running from my cousin and I suddenly was on top of the school. I thought a wind had blown me up there.”

She frowned. “So, you’ve teleported twice now.” She lapsed into thought, worrying her lower lip. Finally she said, “I’m going to cast a small spell to see if I can determine your magical potential, okay?”

He nodded.

Her horn started to glow a soft pink. Her eyes lost focus, as if she were looking at something closer to her than his head. She took a quick breath and a step back, as if startled, then frowned again.

“I need to do a stronger spell. You might feel a little warm.”

The glow on her horn intensified and, indeed, he felt a warm heat suffuse his body. It was sort of relaxing, actually.

The doctor squinted, then sighed. She shook her head. “I’ll need to consult with some of my associates in Canterlot before I can say more. In the meantime, please take it easy and relax and recover from your injuries.” She smiled at him and stood. “Your meal should be here in a moment.”

True to her word, no sooner had she walked out the door then Nurse Redheart brought in a push cart with a bowl and three plates on it.

“Hello, again, Hahry Potter,” she said in a kindly voice. She gave a stern look at the three fillies each of whom quickly returned to examining their respective corner intently.

He nodded in acknowledgment, offering an accompanying meek, “Hello, ma’am.”

“Okay you three troublemakers, these plates for you three. You can stay as long as you behave,” she said. Shamefacedly, the three fillies turned around, “Yes, Nurse Redheart,” they said.

“It was an accident,” said Scootaloo.

“We were just trying to help Hahry scratch his itches,” said Sweetie Belle apologetically.

“Ah’m sorry,” said Apple Bloom sorrowfully.

After staring at the three sternly, the nurse’s expression slowly changed to a smile and she pointed with her nose at three plates to one side of the cart. They appeared to be salads of some sort.

One at a time a soft pale-green glow surrounded each plate and brought them over to the girls. Harry noticed the same pale-green glow around Sweetie Belle’s horn. The little filly had her face scrunched up in concentration and her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth.

Scootaloo somehow grabbed her plate between her hooves as it hovered in front of her and started munching away at the greens piled on the plate. Apple Bloom soon followed her example. And then Sweetie Belle served herself. There were no utensils, they just stuffed their muzzles into the greens and started eating.

Meanwhile, the nurse was positioning herself beside Harry. She smiled at him. “We’re going to start you with vegetable soup.” Then she took a spoon with a long handle on it in her mouth and scooped up some soup from the bowl on the cart. She swung it over to him and waited a moment. It was clear that because he couldn’t feed himself, she was going to do it for him. Sighing, he opened his mouth and let her do her job.

It was a light vegetable soup that was more broth that substance, but it was just what he needed. And it was surprisingly flavourful. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever having a soup with as many flavours as this one seemed to have. He was surprised at how quickly things went as he finished off the bowl in what felt like record time. He would have licked the bowl if she had held it up for him. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, “that was very good.”

“Good,” she said. “That should have filled you up nicely!”

He looked at the empty bowl, then back at her. Somewhat hesitantly, and in a small voice, he said, “Could I have a little more?”

She stared at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nodded hesitantly. He was a bit surprised she hadn’t yelled at him for criticizing how much she had fed him by daring to ask for more.

She frowned, then said, “Well, we’ll wait half an hour and if you’re still hungry, I’ll bring you a bit more.”

He nodded. That was how she planned to handle it. Keep him happy by promising more knowing she wouldn’t be back. She probably thought he would only realize she wasn’t going to be bringing him more when bedtime arrived. Well, at least they had actually given him one decent meal.

Sweetie Belle already had put the fillies’ plates back on the cart, so soon it was just him, the three girls, and the guard.

With a full stomach, and his bad days before, Harry realized he was still quite tired. However, there were a few questions he had. Harry looked at Sweetie Belle. “How did you do that? Make the plates float, I mean.”

“What?” She frowned. “Well, I just . . . .” And that turned into an odd discussion which boiled down to, “I don’t know, I just do it!” About the only useful information he got was when she said, “. . . I tell the magic what I want to do and then push it out from my horn.”

Ah. That was disappointing. He didn’t have a horn. He also didn’t have wings — he certainly would have noticed them when the doctor was doing his examination!

That was when Sweetie Belle said, “But you won’t be able to do anything anyway . . .”

Harry rolled his eyes. He wanted to say something sarcastic about Captain Obvious, but held back. Sarcasm frequently led to beatings. Or tattling to teachers, which led to problems of a different kind. Those problems usually entailed a beating at the Dursleys for being a rude “freak.”

“. . . because the doctors put a ring on your horn to prevent you from using your magic.”

He stared at her incredulously. “Horn?” he said disbelievingly. “I have a horn?”

The fillies exchanged puzzled looks. How could a unicorn not know they had a horn?

“Well, yeah!” said Scootaloo, pointing at his forehead.

Harry turned his eyes up and could just barely see a short piece of spiral cut bone that moved left and right as he moved his head. If he could have moved his arms he would have reached up and felt for it.

“I have a horn?” he said softly. Did that mean he could do magic, too? But, wait, Sweetie Belle said something about a ring. He looked back at her and said, “A ring?”

She looked down at the floor and traced a circle with a front hoof. “Yeah, a magic suppressing ring. It prevents you from using your horn to cast magic. They were afraid you might teleport away again and hurt yourself because you’re so weak.”

He glared at her.

She took a step back, “Hey, it’s not my fault!”

He looked up at the ceiling and huffed. They were right. If he could teleport, he probably would try to escape again.

He just stared at the ceiling for several minutes thinking about how he was now a unicorn and could apparently cast magic. He smiled to himself. Boy, he thought, wait until I get to the Dursleys. They will be soo sorry they weren’t nice to me! He would have rubbed his hands together if his arms weren’t in casts. He began to daydream about what he was going to do to them.

The three fillies quickly got bored after realizing he was lost in thought and fell to arguing about what they needed to do next to on their current Cutie Mark Crusade.

Nurse Redheart returning to the room startled them all. “It’s about time for you three to be headed home,” she said, looking at the fillies. “We’ll see you tomorrow after school.” She turned to Harry. “Are you still hungry for a bit more? It’s been about an hour since you ate.”

Harry was startled that she actually remembered to ask that question. Did she truly plan to bring him more? Before he could reply, though, his stomach growled. Sheepishly, he just nodded.

The girls and nurse stared at him, astonished. He had eaten a full meal and his stomach was already empty? What kind of appetite did this colt have? Or did he have four hollow legs?

With a shake of their heads, the three fillies began to file out of the room. “Bye!” “See ya tomorrow!” “Don’t run through any walls!” They called out as they left. “Scootaloo!” scolded Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo just shrugged and waved goodbye to Harry.

Harry blinked at them for moment — he couldn’t exactly wave, now could he? — said, “bye,” and then stuck his tongue out at Scootaloo, who just laughed.

After polishing off a second bowl of soup, Harry thanked Nurse Redheart again and stared at the ceiling, again, contemplating what had happened the last few days, of which he was conscious only for a few hours.

How he had gotten to this strange world he hadn’t the slightest idea. Why he was a pony, he likewise had no idea. That the ponies who populated this world treated him better than the people back in Little Whinging was a fact.

Well, he assumed that ponies populated this world. Perhaps there were other intelligent animals, who knew for sure? Anyway, he was getting far better treatment here than he had ever gotten in Little Whinging, so he wasn’t about to start complaining about little things like becoming a pony or magic being real. And, it seemed, that the ponies were convinced he, himself, could do magic!

In fact, thinking about what Doctor Deep Healer had said, she seemed convinced he had used magic back in Little Whinging! But how could he have done magic when apparently you needed a unicorn horn to do it?

But Uncle Vernon had always said magic was fake. Here, clearly, it wasn’t fake. And there, well, apparently, it wasn’t a big wind that blew him up to the school’s roof. He had “teleported” when trying to escape Dudley at school. And if he had teleported, which is called magic here, then magic was real there, too.

He remembered Aunt Petunia, tired of seeing him come back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken the kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar” he was so proud of.

And he had hated it. He knew the kids at school would laugh and make no end of fun at him. He would, again, be utterly humiliated. But the next morning, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off! Magic was the only reasonable explanation, now that he thought about it.

And then Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into Dudley’s old revolting brown sweater with orange puff balls. The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Again, the only reasonable explanation was magic!

And he couldn’t forget how he never got sick, although Dudley seemed to catch every bug that came by. While that might just be luck, everyone he knew in Primary school came down sick at least once a year, so probably not luck.

And then there were the beatings. Bruises disappeared in a few hours. Cuts healed overnight. It had always puzzled him that whenever he saw someone with a broken arm or leg that they had to wear a cast for weeks. He knew his so-called uncle had broken bones with some of his beatings, but Harry always recovered enough to be back at his chores in a couple of days. Days, not weeks.

Was . . . was . . . that what they meant when they said they would beat the freakishness out of him? Magic was what made him a freak? Magic that he had that they did not? They were punishing him because he could do things they could not?

And that meant that all those things they blamed on him might truly have been his fault! If they had explained things, maybe he could have controlled it and prevented so much of it from happening!

He could do magic and they could not, so he was a FREAK. He had a talent that they did not and therefore he was a FREAK! All these years, all that pain, both emotional and physical, was because they were afraid and jealous of him!

He laid there, too stunned to know how to react. He wanted to scream, yell, throw things, kick the wall, and throw a tantrum that would put one of Dudley’s to shame. But he couldn’t move, the ropes and weights prevented him from doing anything physical. And if he screamed and kicked his legs in the air — and oh, how he wanted to scream and kick — that would only bring the nurses and then the doctors running. Not to mention startling the guard at the door. And they would want to know what was wrong and he would end up embarrassed and frustrated. And punished for disturbing everyone.

He closed his eyes and ruthlessly pushed down his primal reactions. The only outward signs of his inner turmoil was the way his breath hissed in and out through his gritted teeth.

It took a long time before he began to calm down. And that was only because he distracted himself with planning the retribution he would rain down upon the Dursleys and the other bullies in Little Whinging. Perhaps even burning the school down.

He finally faded off to sleep debating the order of his victims in exacting his revenge.

5 — Dazed and Confused

Harry’s rumbling stomach woke him the next morning at the break of dawn, the normal time he woke so he could prepare breakfast for the thrice-damned Dursleys.

Here in the hospital, though, it was the staff who prepared breakfast. And at this early hour he could expect to wait for some time before anyone . . . anypony . . . brought him his breakfast. He stared at the guard by his room’s door and wondered if it really was the same guard from yesterday. Had they made the guy stand there all day and all night? That didn’t seem right. They must have changed guards at some point and he slept through it. Considering how noisy ponies were normally, and adding in their armour, it was surprising he hadn’t woken in the night when the new guard arrived.

He put it out of his mind. He had more important things to consider — with the Dursleys and revenge topping the list. For a few moments he dwelt upon what he wanted to do to them. Visiting upon his uncle every single broken bone he had received from the overweight whale, naturally, ranked first.

But before he could do that, he had to learn magic. Just knowing it existed wasn’t enough, he had to learn how to use it.

First, what did he know about it?

It happened when he really, really, really wanted something to happen. Escaping Dudley when he was trapped, wanting to escape the humiliation of being almost bald after his aunt’s haircut, and not wanting to wear an absolutely ugly sweater for the same reason. And then here, he had teleported when he desperately wanted to escape. So, it was emotion driven.

The ponies said he could only do magic with his horn. He looked up cross-eyed at the tip that he could barely see. Sweetie Belle had said that she “pushed” her magic out through her horn. Unfortunately, according to her, he had a magic suppressing ring on his horn, so that should mean he couldn’t do any magic. Was that why his head felt stuffy? It was hard to tell, really, he was used to the feeling now.

But he hadn’t had a horn back home and he had done magic there, so maybe that really wasn’t true. Or rather, maybe he was restricted to magic that affected only himself . . . . like making his hair grow. But, covered with fur as he was, did he really want to make his hair longer? And how would he tell anyway? It had taken all night back at the Dursley’s, so it would probably take hours before he noticed anything.

He needed to start with something simple. The lady doctor yesterday had said something about “seeing” his magic. Maybe he should try that first? But how?

He stared at his hooves suspended over his head. Unlike horses and ponies he had seen pictures of in his old world, they were the same colour as his fur — one a yellow-gold colour and the other red. He squinted his eyes, staring at the red hoof and tried to “see” the magic in it. He tried making his eyes slightly out of focus. Then he looked over at the wall and tried using his peripheral vision to see his hoof. That was harder as he kept accidentally directly looking at his hoof. Or the wall.

All he got for his trouble was a headache.

He closed his eyes, and just thought. What was magic? An invisible fluid? An invisible gas? No, those could be sealed out of a room making places where magic didn’t work. It had to be something undetectable by any means, but was everywhere. And in amounts that made it easy to move and do things with the stuff that everyone could see.

Then he had a brainstorm.

Once, while he was locked in his cupboard, Dudley had wandered away from the telly after his program was over. The next program had been a science program about astronomy and the commentator had mentioned stuff called Dark Energy and Dark Matter. According to the program, normal matter and energy is only about five percent of the total mass of matter and energy in the universe, the rest is invisible and can only be detected by its gravitational effect on normal matter — on a galactic scale. Its effects were undetectable on the planetary scale, not to mention the even smaller human scale, despite it out-massing normal matter and energy by over twenty times in the exact same space.

Was that what magic was? Dark Energy and Dark Matter were something that ponies — and apparently certain people — could somehow control with their minds?

The doctor had said she wanted to see how much magic he had. That meant that ponies, and people, it seemed, could somehow collect Dark Energy in their bodies. If that was true, then he should be able to see it in himself. The doctor had used a spell to make the magic visible to her. He didn’t know any spells to do that, so he had to use his mind to “see” it.

He closed his eyes. If his horn conducted magic, then if he looked at it he should be able to “see” the magic with his mind. After what felt like an hour of trying his only result was that his eye muscles hurt from looking up cross-eyed at the tip of his horn that he could see.

He had read magazines in the town library — the librarians kept Dudley out — about mysticism and this thing they called “the third eye.” Supposedly, this “third eye” could see things that normally were invisible, like chakras and energy points. Were they actually referring to seeing this Dark Energy in their bodies? The books had said that meditation was the way to “wake up” your third eye.

The hardest part of meditation, Harry discovered, was keeping his mind clear. That is, trying to think about nothing was hard. Just when he thought he had done it he found himself thinking about something his relatives had said, the situation he was in, the Princess, and just about any other random thing that suddenly popped up. Or, worse, he was suddenly aware of that itch at the centre of his shoulder blades that just wouldn’t go away! Each time he realized he was thinking, he consciously stopped doing that and tried to think of nothing.

He was thinking so hard on not thinking that he jumped and screamed, “AHHHH!” when a voice beside him suddenly said, “Time to wake up for breakfast, dear.”

Taking deep breaths, he stared at the startled nurse, a female with a blue coat and green mane and tail, who had stumbled back and was staring at him in alarm. Like Nurse Redheart, she had neither wings nor a horn.

He said unsteadily, “Geeze, give a guy a little warning! You almost gave me a heart attack there!” He took a few more breaths, then apologetically said, “Sorry about that, but you startled me.”

The nurse nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, but I thought you heard me come in with the meal cart.” She smiled uncertainly. “I’m Nurse Tenderheart.”

“Hello,” he said, “I’m Harry Potter. It’s nice to meet you. Did you say breakfast?”

Abruptly all business, the nurse pushed the cart closer to his bed. “This morning it’s oatmeal with diced apples and maple sugar.” Surprisingly, instead of using a long-handled spoon held in her mouth, she used a spoon with a handle designed to fit a hoof. She held onto the side of the bed with her other hoof and fetlock to keep her balance.

It was simple, but good, Harry decided. “Thank you very much,” he said, “That was very good.” But like last night, he was still hungry when he finished. And like last night, he cautiously said, “I’m still hungry, can I have more?” And immediately regretted it. Nothing good could come of asking for more. That lesson he had learned well at the Dursleys’. Last night had been a fluke, he had surprised them. Today everything would go back to normal.

She looked at him, surprised that he had not only finished the bowl, but wanted more. “I’m sorry,” she said, “But there were no leftovers this morning.”

He blinked in surprise. No screaming or yelling about how ungrateful he was to ask for more and not appreciate what they had worked so hard to give him. Still, he reflected, he had eaten better in the last two meals than he usually got from the Dursleys in a weekend of six meals. And it wasn’t scraps, either.

It was only as she was preparing to leave that he noticed a certain pressure in his bladder. And what happened next, when he mentioned that, was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to Harry. He decided that the less said about what the nurse did to help him, the happier he would be. And, surprisingly, the guard even seemed to cast a sympathetic eye in his direction when she left.

Continuing what he had started earlier, Harry relaxed and again closed his eyes as he tried to think about nothing and instead ended up thinking about the nature of nothing and how the little red lines on the inside of his eyelids looked like trees, branching rivers and streams, or odd characters from the cartoons on the telly.

He had barely started when he heard the sound of several ponies in the hall talking. Curious, he opened his eyes just as the door opened and Doctor Well Heart stepped in.

“Good morning, Harry, I trust you are feeling better?” he said walking up to the bed.

He left the door open behind him, Harry noticed. “I’m fine, sir,” Harry said. “Still a bit hungry, though.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows at that. “Really now? And the nurse brought you a full breakfast?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry guiltily looked over to the wall opposite his bed. He shouldn’t have said that to the doctor. This is where he would get yelled at for asking for more than his share. And for not showing proper gratitude for what he had received. As he had thought earlier, last night had been a fluke and now his brash demand for more would end in punishment. “It was very good, though,” he said, vainly hoping that might head off the worst of his punishment for being ungrateful.

The stallion gave Harry a smile. “Well, we’ll see if we can bring you a snack in a couple of hours to tide you over until lunch.”

Startled at the generous offer, Harry looked at the doctor wide-eyed. “Thank you sir,” he said with heartfelt gratitude. No yelling at his ingratitude in asking for more? An unheard of situation in his experience. Would the nurse really bring more, as she had last night?

The doctor floated over his stethoscope, and a clipboard, saying, “Let’s take a quick look shall we?” The exam was fairly quick, ending with the doctor declaring, “You are doing much better than I expected. You might be able to get the casts off in a few days instead of a week!”

He put away his stethoscope and clipboard and became very solemn. “The other reason I am here is to tell you that Princess Celestia would like to speak with you. She’s not angry with you or upset with you, she merely wants to talk with you.”

Harry looked at the doctor, suddenly afraid. He blinked rapidly as he tried to think why a princess, the ruler of a country, would want to talk with him, a kid lost in a strange land. He wished that ring wasn’t on his horn. He wanted the option to teleport away.

“It’s alright, Harry, she just wants to understand what happened to you. Okay?”

He nodded fearfully.

“Okay.” Doctor Well Heart turned and left the room. Once he was in the hall, he turned to the right and dipped his head. “Your Highness, he’s ready to see you.”

Harry gulped as he heard a kindly and polite, “Thank you,” and then the huge pony — no, she had to be a horse considering she was so much bigger than the others — daintily walked into his room. The new doorway meant she didn’t have to half-crawl to fit through it.

Harry gulped again as he watched her. She was as big as he remembered. Now that he wasn’t terrified out of his mind and trying to escape what he thought was certain death, he could see she was beautiful.

Her white coat seemed to shine, almost glow, even though the room was well-lit. Her mane was a rainbow of yellows and reds given form and life, with dazzling stars embedded in it. It drifted around her head like a large cloud changing shapes on an unfelt breeze. It was easily long enough to reach the floor below her head — with a lot left over. It moved almost as if it were alive.

Then he noticed her tail. It was as long as her body. It, too, floated and drifted above the floor behind her. Just as with her mane, with its length it should have pooled around her hooves instead of drifting gracefully behind her in an invisible breeze.

And there was the smell of a warm summer day around her.

All this combined into making an imposing and beautiful figure that was enormously intimidating at the same time. Fortunately, she exuded an aura of calm imbued with an attitude friendliness that slowed his frantically beating heart and helped calm him, although he still shivered a bit.

As soon as she was in the room she laid her barrel down on the floor with her feet gathered beneath her. She still towered over him, but was at a comfortable distance. Or at least comfortable for him. The advantage for her was that she didn’t have to duck her head to avoid the ceiling when she held her head up as was normal for a pony. The door behind her closed in a soft white glow.

He noted her horn was the purest white he had ever seen, and that she had wings, something he hadn’t noticed the previous day. Was she a unicorn and pegasus hybrid? A unipeg? A pegacorn? A Cornus?

“Good morning to you, Hahry Potter,” she said. Her voice, while deeper than those of the smaller ponies, was still definitely feminine in nature.

Harry barely managed to squeak out a “Hello” in reply.

“Have they been treating you well here?”

He nodded, afraid to try to say anything.

“I heard that you are still hungry.”

He shivered, but slowly nodded again.

She smiled and turned her head to the guard. “Please get me a tea and something appropriate for a hungry colt to eat and drink.”

The guard bowed and left the room.

She turned back to Harry.

“Now then, my little colt, could you tell me about yourself?”

Harry was staring at closed door, surprised that she had ordered more food for him. Slowly he returned his gaze to her and then quickly looked back down at the blanket covering him.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Perhaps it would help to start with your name and where you were born?”

Hadn’t the other ponies already told her? He swallowed nervously, then said, “My name is Harry James Potter. I was born on July 31st, 1980, in the early morning in Godric's Hollow, in the West Country.”

She tilted her head slightly, clearly not understanding.

“Erm,” he continued, “That's in England?”

Still no sign of recognition, so he went on. “My father was a Potter and my mother was an Evans. They both died on Halloween night, 1981. My aunt says they were drunken wastrels who died in a car accident.” He turned his eyes towards his right forehead. “That scar I got in the accident.” He paused. “I don’t believe that’s how they died. I remember a man laughing and then a flash of green light lighting up a room.” He stared at the blanket.

“What were your parent’s names, dear?” Princess Celestia asked softly.

Harry couldn’t shrug his shoulders, so he looked out the window. “I don’t know,” he said softly, “Aunt Petunia refuses to talk about them, and Uncle Vernon . . . .” Harry shuddered.

He looked back at the huge white horse just in time to see her tightened lips and slight narrowing of her eyes return to a relaxed and kindly sympathetic look. She had not liked what he had said. He quickly looked down at his blanket and shivered. Restrained by his casts as he was, he couldn’t flee as he had tried before.

“Go on,” she softly coaxed him.

Before he could say more, the door opened and the guard returned, followed by a nurse pushing a cart with a tea set on it, a glass of orange juice, and a plate with pancakes! Beside the pancakes was a small jar of something blue. As she wheeled the car to the bedside, he caught a whiff of blueberries.

As the Princess poured herself a cup of tea, using her magic to lift the teapot, she said to the nurse, “You may leave,” interrupting the nurse as she picked up the knife to section the pancakes. The Nurse bowed and quickly left.

Harry watched, entranced, as the Princess used her magic to wield the knife as she cut up the pancakes. “Do you like blueberry syrup on your pancakes?”

Harry stared at the pancakes. He’d never had pancakes before, Dudley had always made sure to polish them off to prevent Harry from getting any. The blueberries he knew from late-night snacking and raiding the blueberry jam jar for a sandwich. “Yes, please,” he said, swallowing the drool that had so quickly pooled in his mouth at the sight of his “snack.”

For the next few minutes nothing was said as the Princess of Equestria used her magic to feed him while he blissed on the delicious tastes that filled his mouth. Blueberries at the Dursleys’ had never tasted this good. He sighed, his eyes closed, as the last bit of pancake melted in his mouth. Too bad there wasn’t more, he could have demolished another stack of those wondrous fluffy pancakes.

He opened his eyes to see her eyes sparkling and a soft chuckle on her lips. “I do so love watching someone enjoy their food.”

He looked down, embarrassed. “The food here tastes just so much better than I’ve ever had before,” he half mumbled as an explanation. And his stomach had never felt so full in his life.

She took a sip of her tea. “Now, then, you were telling me your relatives never talked about your parents?”

Harry’s good humour disappeared and he scowled.

“My Aunt told me that after Halloween, on November second, when she went to get the milk and newspaper at the door, there I was in a basket with a letter saying her sister was dead and that I was their responsibility.”

Caught up in his story he almost missed the princess narrowing her eyes in displeasure. Scowling, Harry continued, “I never understood that. If the constables had found me, then one of them would have brought me over. And the constables never send a letter to tell a relative that a close relative is dead, they always go in person — I’ve seen that on the telly about Scotland Yard. And the same for the Social Services people. Who leaves a baby in a basket on a doorstep? That sounds more like something in a fairy-tale, right? Or a badly written fantasy novel.”

He looked up at the Princess and shivered. Horses and ponies here had huge eyes that were remarkably expressive. And right now he could see the glimmer of rage in hers. He shrank back into his bed and really wished he could hide under the bed, having learned he couldn’t make it through the walls.

She blinked a few times and the calming aura that had momentarily disappeared returned.

“And you’ve been living there ever since? At number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England?” She managed to say it without stumbling over the unfamiliar names.

He nodded.

Her expression went blank for several moments. Clearly she was thinking about what he had told her.

“They must have been very poor, and taking care of you must have been difficult for them.”

He looked up, frowning. “Oh, no, they weren’t poor. Uncle Vernon works at Grunnings Drills and is a sales manager. He gets a new car every year and they go on vacations a lot. And they live in a ‘normal’ neighbourhood with ‘normal’ neighbours, as they like to say.” He looked out the window. “No freaks like me,” he said almost too softly for her to hear.

“I see,” she said slowly, nodding. “Then why are you so skinny?”

“Oh, well, um,” Harry stumbled as he tried to think of an excuse, but then he stopped. He realized something important. This wasn’t a nosey teacher, school nurse, or doctor who would later ignore him. This was a Princess asking the questions. Someone very important. Someone who could help him.

If, that is, she wanted to. She might just do like all the other adults in his life and listen to his stories, promise that things would change, and then do absolutely nothing.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. He would try once more. Maybe, just maybe, something good would happen this time instead of a beating. Plus, what did he have to lose? If nothing happened then he was no worse off than before.

He looked back at his blanket and swallowed. “My relatives hate me,” he said quietly as he shivered. “My bedroom is the cupboard under the stairs while my cousin gets two bedrooms for his stuff. My cot barely fits, and I barely fit on the cot. The only space I have for stuff is under my cot. All my clothes are worn-out cast-offs from my whale of a cousin.

“The only food I get are the leftovers, if there are any. What makes it worse is that I usually fix breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When I tried to fix more so I could eat properly, I got punished for wasting food.”

He smirked at her, “However, I’ve learned to pick the lock on my cupboard door, and I can usually get late-night snacks while they’re sleeping.” He sighed and shivered again, “But I can’t take too much or they’ll notice. And Dudley sometimes says I ate his snacks just so I get punished. I don’t think he even notices if it’s true or not.”

She nodded, not smiling, just acknowledging that she heard him, and encouraging him to continue.

Once he started he couldn’t stop. He told her about the beatings he got when they blamed him for “freaky” things that he now suspected might have been magic. How he didn’t know either his name — he thought it was Freak — or his birthday until he started school. How Dudley “discouraged” other kids from befriending him and how the game of Harry Hunting got started. How he had never had a birthday party, while having to fix the food for his cousin’s parties. How the Dursley vacations never included him, leaving him with a babysitter while they visited the beach. Only allowed out of his cupboard to clean the house, work in the garden, or go to school — and rarely allowed to go to the local park, such as the day he ended up in Equestria. Not to mention his punishments for daring to get better grades in school than his cousin — he had to be cheating or using his freaky powers!

And that the only friends he really had were the spiders in his closet. They never grumbled about everything he did. They never demanded he do things for them. They quietly listened to his complaints, and even played games with him sometimes.

Then he explained about this latest episode of Harry Hunting and how he had arrived where the three girl ponies had found him.

Finally, he looked up. “And that’s pretty much it,” he finished.

Author's Notes:

I would like to say a heartfelt thank-you to everyone who has taken the time and effort to comment and/or click on the Thumbs-Up in the Likes bar. Knowing people are reading the story and feel motivated enough to comment is helping to drive the story. And if you don't like it, how about telling me what it is you don't like?

And if anyone notices a grammatical or spelling mistake, please tell me. It's never too late to fix a mistake.

6 — The Mysterious Enigma

Princess Celestia nodded slowly, giving a soft, “Thank you for telling me.” Harry noticed the fur around her eyes seemed wet. He wondered why. “If we find these Dursleys, I promise you that they will be punished,” she said solemnly. She lifted a hoof and gently placed against the side of his chest. “No pony deserves the way you were treated. You are a fine colt and I’m sure that you will be an excellent stallion when you grow up.”

Harry stared at her. Ignoring the confusing terms of pony, stallion, and colt, which he thought were the pony equivalents for person, man, and boy, no adult had ever said anything like that to him. He was unsure of what to think. Was this a trick?

They sat quietly for a time. He was worn out, and she seemed to thinking.

“On a slightly different subject, Hahry Potter . . . .”

“H. A. R. R. Y,” he interrupted, “not H. A. H. R. Y. Call me Harry.” She now knew more about him than anyone else, having her call him Harry Potter every time just felt wrong. Plus, she was royalty, it just seemed wrong for her to be so formal to someone of his inconsequential status.

She smiled, “Very well. Harry. What did you look like before arriving here?” She cleared her throat. “You’ve mentioned both hands and feet but not hooves, wings, or horns, so I take it you were not a pony in Little Whinging?”

Harry didn’t know what to say, at first. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I walked upright on two legs and instead of front legs,” he glanced at his cast laden legs, “I had arms with five-finger hands. I didn’t have fur to keep me warm or to protect me from too much sun, nobody does, so we always wore clothes, especially in bad weather. Plus, people get really upset if you don’t wear clothes because then everyone can see your privates. There are strict laws against that sort of thing. The only times you are naked is when taking a bath.”

“Oh!” she said. She studied him for a moment. “So, seeing everypony without clothes, including yourself, is a bit distressing for you? Even though nothing . . . private . . . can be seen?”

He nodded, embarrassed, with his face flushing red.

She smiled reassuringly. “Things are very different here, so don’t worry about it. Sometimes ponies wear clothes, sometimes not. And our fur does an excellent job of keeping us warm when it’s cold. Just pretend our fur is clothing and I’m sure you will adjust in time.”

She took a moment to think. “Tell me about your world. I believe you mentioned something about a telly? And a Scot-land Yard?”

He thought a bit, “Well, the telly is a box that lets you watch shows, plays . . . .”

Over the next hour or so he told her about radios, cars, planes, even computers. And how just about anything important that happened anywhere in the world would be instant news everywhere.

Finally, she looked over at the door and said, “It’s nearly time for lunch and I have other business to attend to in Ponyville.” She gracefully got to her feet. “When you have recovered, I would appreciate it if you could accompany a select group of ponies and my guard to the Everfree Forest to see if you can help them track your trail. It is obvious that there is, or was, a portal between your world and ours. We need to make sure we guard it to assist any others who might stumble through it. We should also see if we can use the portal to go to your world. Your stories of what your people have accomplished there piqued my interest.” She shook her head ruefully, “Instant world communications! And you’ve even travelled to your world’s moon! Luna will be fascinated.

“I will also be asking my faithful student to come speak with you about your magic and magic in general. If you are interested, she could teach you about magic in our world.”

He nodded.

She smiled at him as she opened the door and left, closing the door behind her.

He just laid in bed and thought about the revenge he wanted on the Dursleys.

Lunch was oatmeal with diced apple chunks and cinnamon. And this time it was in a bowl almost twice as big as the previous one. Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be better now.

After that filling lunch, he once again tried his hand at meditation and clearing his mind. He didn’t make much progress because only a short time after lunch he had a new visitor.

This time it was a purple unicorn pony with a purple mane split by a pinkish stripe, and her face sported a wide smile. Her eyes were also purple. With her, astonishingly, and riding on her back, was a purple reptile, with a green headcrest, that looked to be a little smaller than Harry.

“Hi!” she said excitedly. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, and this is my number one assistant, Spike,” She said proudly. She twisted her head slightly towards the lizard who was in the process of hopping down. “He’s a dragon,” she added.

“Princess Celestia has asked me to come see you because of your unusual magic corona.” Her smile grew wider. “I’m an expert in magic and if anypony can figure you out, it’s me!” She stopped and studied him for a moment. “Oh, this is just so exciting!” she exclaimed, doing a quick running-in-place dance. “Doctor Deep Healer said she couldn’t get any kind of significant readings as your whole body seemed to glow with magic. No pony has ever had that!” Her gaze seemed to lose focus as she continued, “Who knows what this will teach us about magic! Not to mention the tests I can run to see if this is an isolated case or if any pony can do it with the right training.” She stared off out the window. “And she said you don’t believe in magic. That you can’t even do a basic levitation spell that most unicorn foals manage by their first birthday! And yet you managed to teleport from here to the Everfree!” She was lifting and dropping her hooves in slow-motion now. She actually shivered as she said, “I can’t wait to see what I learn!”

Harry was getting rather creeped out by this new pony.

The little lizard, standing by the guard and out of trampling-dance range, sighed. “Twi!” he said loudly, “You’re scaring him!”

“No I’m not!” She said reflexively, as she glared at her assistant. Then she looked over at Harry and took in how he was shrinking back under his blanket and staring at her with wide eyes.

“Oh. Maybe I am.” She looked away guiltily, then looked back and cleared her throat. She took a breath and stilled herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that this is so exciting!” She shivered again.

“Twi,” said the Spike warningly.

She caught herself and looked down guiltily. “Right,” she said, giving herself a shake.

This time she smiled at him. “Well, before I can get to the magic I need to understand how you got to Ponyville. I mean, nopony in Ponyville knows of a village that is only a few hours walk from away. And none of the history or geography books in the library mention any town in the Everfree, just the ruins of Two Sisters’ Castle. And the Pegasi would have reported seeing a village as they flew high over the forest to gather clouds. So that’s quite a mystery!

“Princess Celestia did mention a portal might be involved,” she shivered in delight again, “So that’s another new magic to study!”

“Well, first, I think, I’d like you to tell me how you ended up on Sweet Apple Acres — that’s where Apple Bloom and her friends found you, you know. And if you could give me as much detail as you could, I would appreciate it. Maybe something you will remember will help explain what happened.”

For the second time that day Harry told the story of how he had left the playground and wandered through the forest to the Sweet Apple Acres. Twi, as the Spike had called her, interrupted frequently with questions. The tale took twice as long as it had with the Princess.

The purple unicorn became very angry at his explanations of why he was staggering and what Harry Hunting was. He noticed a violet glow coming from her eyes.

“Those insufferable horrors! How could anypony treat a foal like that! If I ever get my hooves on them . . . ,” she growled.

It felt unreal to have someone actually getting angry on his behalf instead of angry at him. Especially this odd, quirky pony.

“Twi!” interrupted the dragon.

She blinked and the glow disappeared.

“Sorry,” she said contritely. “I didn’t mean to get carried away.” She smiled at him. “So, back to your story . . . .”

“All right,” Twilight Sparkle said when he had concluded his story. “I’ll take a look at Sweet Apple Acres later today.” She stopped trotting in place and stared at him.

“Now we can take a look at your magic,” she smiled broadly. “First, a slightly more complicated scan than Doctor Deep Healer used.” She frowned cutely and a violet glow appeared around her horn. After a brief moment he saw a similar glow slowly appear all over his body.

He felt nothing, at first. Then a very faint warmth. Almost immediately both disappeared.

She was staring at him with her eyes wide and a smile that seemed bigger than should be possible.

“Just as Doctor Deep Healer said, there is an envelope of magic surrounding you! Oh, this is so exciting!” She again started trotting rapidly in place. The guard at the door turned slightly to move a bit farther away and give her more room.

Still trotting, she said, “Let me try this.”

Her horn glowed again, only this time he felt a slight warmth on his hooves, the ones over his head. He looked up to see the violet glow slowly slide down from his hooves to the casts. When it was about even with his elbows, he felt something warm on his forehead, yet not really on his forehead. Looking up he realized that the glow was working its way down his horn.

She frowned as it reached his forehead, her trotting petering out to standing still, but didn’t say anything and didn’t stop her magic. Eventually, the purple glow reached his bottom hooves, finished with them, and disappeared.

For several minutes she simply stood there staring in his direction but obviously completely lost in thought.

“Spike, take this down.”

Harry glanced at the little dragon. The beast was sitting comfortably, on the edge of Harry’s bed, and had ink feather and paper ready. “Ready,” he said eagerly.

“Subject has a magic field superimposed on his body, extending barely beyond his surface skin, but it does not originate within him — nor does he power it. The field appears benign, stable, and does not react to magical stimuli. The field is, for the most part, inactive. No known spell can create such a field. No spell remnants are in the field, so tracing it that way is not possible. The field appears very old, possibly as old as the subject.

“Subject is unaware of the field.

“However, there is one point where the field shows enhanced thickness and does not reach the subject’s skin surface.”

She paused and looked carefully at Harry’s scar.

“There is a scar on the right side of his forehead, midway between his horn and his eyes, which looks like a stylized lightning bolt. The magic field appears to be isolating that scar from the rest of his body.

Her horn lit up again and this time a beam of purple shot from it to his forehead. A sharp pain stabbed into his head from the scar. He gasped and reflexively tried to slap his hand on the scar. The casts prevented the movement but he lurched on the bed in reaction. His scar had never hurt like that before. It had ached when accidently hit, but nothing like this!

“Oh! I’msorry,” Twilight immediately said, her horn immediately stopping its glow. His reaction had clearly surprised her.

He gave her a wounded look. She looked away and a faint flush tinged her cheeks. She was embarrassed, Harry realized. It really had been an accident.

“That . . . shouldn’t have happened.” She spoke to her assistant, “The scar on the subject’s forehead appears to have a magical component. A cursory scan resulted in pain for the subject. The magic in the scar appears to be completely unrelated to the subject and the field encasing him.” She paused. “Which doesn’t explain why it caused him pain.”

She looked back at him sadly. “Okay, I need to use another spell. I’m sorry, but this one will hurt. Please bear with me.”

Her horn glowed again, this time a darker shade of pink, almost red. And she was right. It hurt. Specifically, his scar began to hurt. First a dull ache that rapidly grew to stabbing pains that quickly blended into a solid wall. It felt as if his forehead was on fire — he had burned his hand once, it felt like that only much, much worse. He gritted his teeth and tried to withhold the pain-scream, but found himself whimpering.

The pain suddenly fell. It went from a wall that drove all thought from his mind to a mere dull ache in a second. It made him gasp in relief, it was so sudden. Then he felt a drip of sweat slowly make its way down his forehead. He heard Spike gasp, “You’re bleeding!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, that shouldn’t have happened!” Twilight Sparkle said, clearly upset at causing him not only pain but to have opened a wound! “Here, let me cast a healing spell,” she offered. Her horn glowed again. He didn’t see anything happen, but he whimpered as he felt a new burst of intense pain.

“That’s . . . that’s not possible,” he heard her say in disbelief. “Note this down, Spike,” she said urgently, “every detail! I used a standard level-one healing spell. Subject reacted with severe physical pain. Pain appeared to cease the instant the spell was cancelled. The spell appears to have failed to work.”

She turned to the guard, “Get a nurse, immediately!”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, yanking the door open and relaying her order to the guard outside.

Moments later, Nurse Redheart had cleaned the blood from his forehead, applied a healing salve, and was dressing the wound with a bandage. She was also frequently glaring at Princess Celestia’s faithful student.

Twilight, on the other hand was bouncing between excitement and dismay with whiplash inducing speed as she dictated farther observations to her assistant.

As she turned from Harry, the Nurse said, severely, “I dislike visitors causing harm to my patients. Please restrain yourself or I’ll have you removed!”

Harry blinked at that. She would actually order Princess Celestia’s student, sent here by the ruler herself, out of the hospital for hurting him?

From the purple unicorn’s reaction, Harry saw that not only would she issue such an order, but that the student in question would obey!

Twilight could only mumble, “Sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise,” as she stared at the floor like a guilty child caught stealing from the cookie jar.

After the nurse left, Twilight looked back at Harry. She took a breath. “I am so sorry for hurting you, I never thought for a moment that that would happen. Healing spells of that level do not harm ponies.” She stopped.

Huh, he thought, an adult who was actually apologizing for hurting him. That was a first. He nodded his head. “It’s alright, you didn’t know that would happen.” He tilted his head slightly, “What did happen?” Hopefully, she wouldn’t get mad at him questioning her.

Her eyes seemed to gleam with excitement. “The first targeted spell was to try to find out what was in your scar, or the tissue around it, to cause that magic field around you to behave the way it does, that is, going around your scar. It shouldn’t have caused you any pain whatsoever. And yet it did.” She shifted from hoof to hoof. “I’ll have to research if there are any other instances where that spell has generated that reaction.”

She seemed thrilled at the prospect.

“There is some type of magic in your scar, was what that spell told me. As soon as you reacted I stopped, so I didn’t get any farther information.”

She sighed sorrowfully, “The second spell was a bit more specific. It should have told me what kind of magic is in the scar. It usually is harmless, but in some instances has been known to cause pain, but only with specific types of magic. That it hurt you enough to bleed was amazing!” She was again trotting in place.

“The scar on your forehead appears to be the remnants of a spell gone wrong and is leaching some of your magic away from you.” She paused to think for a minute. “Perhaps that is why you have shown so few instances of magical levitation that should be a daily occurrence in a unicorn such as yourself. Not that you don’t have enough magic, but that the spell remnant is interfering with your abilities. I’ll have to do more research on spells that interfere with a unicorn’s natural magic.” She looked giddy at the prospect.

“And for the healing spell actually to hurt the subject instead of healing — that is unheard of! It’s as if the magic in the scar is somehow resisting the healing spell. Although why a spell remnant would react at all to healing magic is a quandary — it should only react to a spell that removes the remnant! And healing magics do not remove spell remnants.”

She was now cantering in place, staring at the floor, talking more to herself than Harry. “So many questions,” she half-whispered, “so much research! I’ll have to get the subject into my laboratory for a complete scan. But first I’ll have to upgrade the equipment — this is Pinkie Pie all over again!” She sounded giddy with excitement.

“Twilight!” interjected the dragon.

She jumped, startled out of her introspections. She looked around the room wildly before settling back on the colt.

“I’ll get right on this,” she told him earnestly, grinning widely.

He was not reassured that that was a good thing for him.

She smiled at his tentative nod. Almost at the same time his stomach rumbled loudly. She gave him a startled look. “Didn’t you get lunch?”

He nodded guiltily, ‘Yes, ma’am. It was very good, too.”

She looked surprised at that, as did Spike.

“Somepony who thinks hospital food tastes good?” Spike said. “I didn’t think that was possible. You must have had terrible food before now!”

She frowned at Spike, “Spike!”

“In any case,” she said, “it clearly was not enough. I’ll have them send you a snack!”

Even as he stared at her, astounded she would say such a thing, she turned, opened the door, and headed out of the room. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called out to him, her assistant bobbing behind her in her magic like a balloon tethered to a child’s hand. The dragon ruefully waved goodbye as the door closed behind them.

Harry shook his head. That was one strange pony, he decided.

Magic in his scar. He pondered that for a moment. Maybe he should be trying to see that? Well, first he needed to learn to meditate without falling asleep! After a few minutes looking around the room, at the guard, and out the window, the small colt sighed and tried to relax. Meditation that afternoon was his plan.

But Nurse Redheart coming into the room a few minutes later, pushing a cart with another bowl of oatmeal, astonished him. The purple unicorn had actually ordered more food for him! He postponed his plans. And postponed them again when certain “necessities” required the Nurse’s further attentions.

The arrival of three fillies a few minutes after the nurse left with the empty bowl put paid to that particular planned course of action for the afternoon.

They spent most of the time telling him about their school and their opinions of the other students. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon (Really? Those were their names?) sounded like bullies like Dudley, except they didn’t descend into violence and stuck with verbal abuse instead. And the fillies told him a rather random and fractured version of Equestria’s history. Coherency was not one of the fillies’ attributes, but they were earnest.

Dinner was another large bowl of oatmeal, which he devoured as if starving.

Then he spent the rest of the evening trying to meditate, and fell asleep instead. There was just something about having a full stomach and no pains that made that result almost unavoidable.

7 — She’s Only Interested in My Body

The next morning was a repeat of the previous morning — waking up early and realizing it would be hours before breakfast arrived. And then he realized he had fallen asleep instead of meditating the previous night. After a sigh of resignation, he started again. He was going to learn magic! No matter how boring parts of it might be.

About the fifth time a memory of the Dursleys intruded into his attempt at clearing his mind, he decided to visualize pushing that memory into a box to get it out of the way. If it was in a box, he wouldn’t think about it!

After repeating that dozens of times he heard the door open. Opening his eyes, he saw Nurse Redheart come in with his breakfast. Only after she left and he restarted his meditations did he realize that the memories he had put away really were not coming back. He visualized opening the box and his mind was flooded with all the things he had been trying not to think about.

He wondered if that’s what he needed to do, put all his memories in boxes.

The most persistent memories were the ones with the Dursleys, so he started shoving those into a new box as fast as he could remember them. After a dozen, he had to retrace his steps and break the box into four, one for each Dursley and Aunt Marjorie. School memories started to pop up, but they usually involved Dudley doing his best to isolate Harry. Those became a fifth box. His fears and memories about where he currently was he tentatively placed in a sixth box. The three girls — no they were fillies — went into another box. Theories and concerns about magic became yet another box.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed as he did this until he heard the door open again. This time it was the nurse with his lunch! He had been at this for over four hours. At the same time he felt calmer than he had ever felt before. And his mind felt clearer as well.

Well, if nothing else at least he didn’t have to worry about those unpleasant memories cropping up randomly anymore.

After lunch Doctor Well Heart stopped by and checked his arms . . . forelegs. He seemed quite impressed. After he left, Harry once again lost himself in his memories and organizing them.

This time it was the loud clatter of multiple hooves sliding to halt outside his door that attracted his attention. That and a loud voice bellowing, “NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!” followed by an equally loud, and higher pitched, voice saying “WE WEREN’T RUNNING, WE WERE HURRYING!” A different voice followed, yelling, “QUIET! THIS IS A HOSPITAL NOT A HOOFBALL FIELD!”

His door slowly opened and, as he had expected, the three fillies walked in.

“Wow,” said Scootaloo, shaking her head, “What a bunch of grouches!”

“Well, they are right, you know,” Sweetie Belle said, “you shouldn’t run in the hospital unless it’s an emergency. And somepony might be trying to sleep.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes as she said, “Hiya, Harry, how are ya feelin’ today?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “How was school?”

“Boring.” “Okay.” “Diamond Tiara is an idiot.”

They stared at each other for a minute. Scootaloo started fidgeting.

Harry said, “You know, you don’t have to come see me every day after school if you don’t want to.”

“Well,” said Scootaloo, “it is kinda boring when you can’t really do anything except lie there.” She got a calculating look in her eyes. “Although it was fun pulling on those ropes of yours,” she said, eyeing the ropes now and clearly getting ready to jump up on the bed.

“Oh!” said Apple Bloom, “I almost forgot . . . .”

The other two looked at her and echoed her with an “Oh!” and “Oh, yeah!”

“Cheerilee, our teacher, is coming by this afternoon. That’s why we were in a rush to get here, to let ya know she was coming,” Apple Bloom concluded. Scootaloo jumped up on the bed.

“Uh huh!” affirmed Sweetie Belle. “She said she has to evaluate your education so she’ll know what you need to learn.”

Scootaloo walked up to one of the ropes and studied it, the pulley it ran through, and where the ropes were tied to his casts.

“We told her you knew lots of maths and nothin’ about Equestria or the Princesses, but she said she had to check herself,” Apple Bloom finished.

That started Harry thinking about what was going to happen to him after he got out of the hospital. Clearly, the adults figured he would be going to school, which distracted him for a moment as he wondered what kind of school it was. But then he wondered where he was going to stay? Would they put him in an orphanage?

He put those thoughts away. There was nothing he could do about his situation except go with whatever happened.

Changing the subject, he said, “What do you three do when you’re not hanging around the hospital getting yelled at?”

After a series of guilty looks, and Scootaloo had been reminded what had happened the last time they had played with his ropes, they started describing their numerous adventures in seeking cutie marks. They described their attempts at creature catching, chicken herding, chicken rescuing, carpentry, and zip-lining. The last two ended up with them covered in tree sap and pine needles, a frequent occurrence Harry would later discover. They were just starting a description of them trying duck-pin bowling when their teacher arrived.

By this time all three were sitting on his bed.

Like the nurses, Cheerilee was neither a pegasus nor a unicorn. She had a purple coat with a pink and lavender mane. After a quick introduction she settled into quizzing him on what he knew. The Cutie Mark Crusaders, as the three fillies had named themselves, left not long afterwards, not that Harry could blame them. He would have left, too, if he could move!

In all truth, he had to admit it wasn’t that bad. The math was simple flash cards of increasing difficulty. The language lessons were similar; the spelling of many common words, reading sentences and finding the nouns, verbs, adjectives, and so forth. Naturally, he couldn’t write anything, which surprised her somewhat as she expected him to use his mouth to move the quill — magic was out as he still wore that ring on his horn. For Geography, history, and government he knew nothing, again surprising her.

Apparently no one had told her he wasn’t native to this world. He decided that if the Princess had wanted that information widely known, she would have made sure everyone besides the doctor, nurse, her faithful student, and herself knew the truth. So, he said nothing about that and simply said he had never been taught those things.

Although he did learn that there were three types of ponies, Earth, Pegasus, and Unicorn. The Princess, he found, was a special case. She was an Alicorn, of which there were only three known, Celestia, Luna, and Mi Amore Cadenza. He also learned that there were, indeed, many other mythological races in this new world, including, but not limited to, Griffons, Dragons, Trolls, Centaurs, Cockatrices, Hydras, Manticores, Minotaurs, and Phoenixes. And that there were several “normal” animals that could talk, such as Buffaloes and Cows. He didn’t think he could ever look at a hamburger again if he knew he could have talked to the cow it came from. He shuddered at the thought.

She was a nice mare, Harry decided, having given him proper names for ponies in general, and she concluded her testing well before dinner. However, just as she was leaving, Doctor Well Heart returned, bringing the purple unicorn mare, Twilight Sparkle, with him.

“Harry, your body’s healing powers are amazing. If they continue as they have, then I see no reason not to remove your casts and release you tomorrow afternoon.”

Harry perked up at that welcome news, but just as quickly frowned as he wondered where he would go.

The Doctor smiled at him. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said warmly. He turned to Twilight and nodded.

“Um,” she said haltingly, “If you have no objections, Princess Celestia suggested that you could stay with me. It would make it easier for me to teach you about Equestria and magic.”

Harry stared at her. He really didn’t have a choice, now did he? The Princess could simply say, “You’re living there,” and that would be that. No one would dare contradict her. And he definitely wasn’t in a position to defy authority.

On the other hand, so what? It wasn’t like he had ever really had the ability to make his own choices anyway, otherwise he never would have stayed with the Dursleys. At least this time the adults were pretending to give him the options.

He looked up at her, “And you could question ‘Subject’ about my world without any inconvenience.”

She blushed, he was amazed to see. How did she do that through fur?

“Well, yes, that, too.” She rushed on, “But that’s not the primary reason, honest! I want to make you as comfortable as possible here.” She gave him a pleading look.

She seemed honest, he thought. And if he said “no” where would he end up?

“Okay,” he said, “If you don’t mind.”

She pranced in place for a moment, looking very pleased. “Excellent! Spike and I will prepare a nice spot for you to sleep.” She gave him a broad smile. “Doctor Well Heart says everything should be finished by three tomorrow, so I’ll see you then!” She turned and rushed out of the room.

Harry gave the Doctor a puzzled look.

The pony shook his head. “And they say I don’t have good pony skills!” He grinned at Harry. “She’s a good pony, I’m sure you’ll have a great time living at the library.”

“Library?”

“Oh, yes, you don’t know about that do you?”

Harry looked at him blankly.

“Her home is Ponyville’s Golden Oak Library, and she’s the librarian.”

That was awesome on many levels, Harry realized. As long as he could read books he would be happy even if locked into a cupboard. And if he wasn’t locked in a cupboard, then so much the better. Living with her couldn’t be worse than the Dursleys.

He realized he was actually looking forward to moving in with her, now. But what was the Princess’s personal and faithful student doing running a library? Something was up with that. He would expect the personal student of the ruler to be groomed for a much more prestigious position. And yet, here she was, a lowly librarian.

His business concluded, the Doctor left. Harry returned to his meditations. He felt he was actually starting to make progress — he could actually keep his mind blank for seconds at a time!

The next day was a productive one for Harry. By the time the doctor came by and removed the colt’s casts Harry finally had managed to meditate for several minutes and caught the barest glimmer of a glow when he had tried to “look” at his horn with his eyes closed. Of course, that could also have been his imagination, “seeing” a glow that was really the sunlight coming in his window and making a pattern on the inside of his eyelids. Only time would tell.

And in the meantime, he had organized his memories to an amazing degree and found that his memories of school were much sharper than they had ever been. He could almost see the print in the books he had read in class, and hear the teachers’ words as they spoke. He still had a long way to go, but the more he did the faster he became at doing it! And the clearer all the memories became.

The down side of that was that he had far more unhappy and depressing memories than good ones. With their attendant emotions of humiliation and pain.

“And there you go, Harry,” Doctor Well Heart said as the last section of cast came off his left arm-leg. Harry just laid there for a moment lifting and lowering his new legs, watching closely as he tried to figure out how they worked. When he bent what he thought was his wrist, it was a lot farther up the leg than he had expected, at a place he had first thought was his elbow. He closed his eyes and bent his wrist, then opened them to see he had been correct, it was what he thought was his elbow doing the bending.

And when he moved his elbow, a joint almost at his chest moved. And above that was his shoulder. The space between them couldn’t have been more than the width of his tiny hoof — much shorter than he was used to seeing between his shoulder and elbow.

He worked his way back down to the hoof trying to bend things. When he got below his wrist, if he closed his eyes it felt like he was bending his middle finger. Thinking of that area as a finger, he tried to “hook” his legs together and feel how hard they pulled against each other. It was kind of odd, but he could see how he could grasp things that way. But still, he had at least three more joints between his shoulder and his hoof.

The doctor watched, apparently fascinated in his explorations. The stallion raised his eyebrows as Harry used his arm-legs to push himself into a sitting position.

It was very awkward for Harry and he had the urge to lean forward onto his front hooves the way dogs and cats sometimes sat with their tails curled around their paws. Unsure of what to expect, Harry carefully lowered his rear legs towards the floor and slid off the bed. Again, it was awkward, but by turning to his side he was able to lean against the bed while standing up. Cautiously, he balanced on his legs and took a tentative step beside the bed.

Both doctor and nurse were watching him intently, and wide-eyed, the doctor even taking notes on his clipboard. The nurse was both amazed and confused at what he was doing.

Too focused on learning to walk with his new body, Harry paid them no attention. Attempting to stand and walk without toes to flex and provide balance was a trial. He swayed and staggered a few times just trying to stand still, but his hooves seemed to grip the floor quite well he was surprise to notice — almost like they had suction cups on them instead of simply a hard hoof-fingernail. He found himself using his leg muscles and shifting his hips to keep from falling. It must be somewhat like walking with very low stilts strapped to his legs, he decided. He made sure to stay close to the bed so he could grab it whenever he started to lose his balance.

Still, after a few minutes struggling he was starting to get the hang of it. He looked up and grinned at the two adults and immediately realized he had made a mistake. Even though he was a young colt, standing on his legs like this made him as tall as the stallion and taller than the mare in the room. Ponies don’t walk on their rear legs.

“Uh, oops,” he said hesitantly, “Sorry,” he continued as he deliberately allowed himself to fall forward and catch himself with his hands-hooves. He shook his head. He was going to have to get used to calling things by their names here. Fore-legs and fore-hooves. He paused and considered things. Were those puns?

“No, no problem at all,” said the doctor, “That was quite interesting. You were walking almost like a Minotaur, and quite well indeed. Most ponies have difficulty just standing still that way, much less actually walking. Do you do that a lot?”

Harry hesitated. Well, everyone, pony, here knew he came from somewhere else, but he wasn’t sure if the Princess or Twilight had told anyone else he wasn’t naturally a pony. “Um, yeah.” He decided to leave it at that.

Doctor Well Heart made a notation on his clipboard. “Well, Twilight should be here any minute now.”

As if she had been waiting for her cue, Twilight trotted through the doorway behind the doctor. “Hi, Harry, she said cheerfully. Oddly, Harry noticed she had dark bags under her eyes as if she hadn’t had enough sleep, and her assistant Spike was nowhere in sight. “I hope you’re ready to go.” She gave him a big smile.

He immediately mistrusted it. No one smiled like that at him, not even the doctors or nurses. “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly, looking down and avoiding meeting her eyes and possibly provoking her. After all, while the doctors and nurses were supposed to be nice as a part of their job, she, as the “faithful student” of the ruler of this land, was under no such requirements.

“Great! Well, come along, there is so much we have to do today in getting you settled in.”

She wheeled around and left the room.

Harry turned from beside the bed and started to follow her, only to end up in a face-plant on the floor. “Oof. Ow.” Trying to walk on your middle fingers and toes was a great deal more difficult than he had anticipated. It wasn’t like crawling on your hands and knees.

As he had discovered earlier, his elbows and knees were about mid-arm and mid-thigh, his wrists and ankles were where he would expect his elbows and knees to be. All those extra joints below them made it difficult to figure when he should move each one. Get one out of order — and his face met the floor.

Trying to “crawl” failed spectacularly when you didn’t use those “extra” joints — the hooves met the floor at weird angles and either bent wrong, and painfully, or simply skidded away. It might not be so bad on dirt where his hooves could get better traction, but on the wooden floors of this hospital it was far worse than trying to walk on an ice-covered path.

“Oh,” cried the nurse, quickly coming forward and trying to help him stand, again.

How she managed to help him back up without hands to grab him was a bit mystifying, but she did it. The doctor merely observed. Useless git.

Slowly, one leg at a time, he took a step, lifting each leg a bit higher than he really needed. He didn’t move the other three until the moving one was down and stable. He imagined he looked a bit like a cat he had once seen that someone had put little cloth boots over its paws. Taking high single steps instead of moving smoothly and elegantly across the floor. And looking completely ridiculous.

But at least he wasn’t falling down. With the nurses help he made it into the hall. Twilight was nowhere in sight, clearly not realizing that he hadn’t followed right at her heels. He sighed and sat a moment. “Thank you,” he said softly to the nurse.

She smiled down at him. “No problem, dearie,” she said, “I’m here to help you.” She patiently waited at his side.

He took a deep breath and, placing a hoof against the wall to steady himself, slowly rose to his hooves. His rear hooves, that is. It was actually easier to balance on the two rear hooves than all four because he only had to concentrate on two instead of splitting his attention to four. Walking upright would be quicker and have less face-meeting-floor time.

And while he had to worry about balance, that was a lesser evil. If he lost his balance on two legs he simply let himself fall to all fours. But if he started to fall from all fours, then he didn’t stop until his face met the floor.

With the nurse pacing him, and him occasionally placing a hoof against her back for balance, he made it to the reception area of the hospital rather quickly. Much faster, he thought, than trying to do it on all fours. The doctor, he noticed, trailed along behind him. He was, no doubt, taking notes and remaining useless.

The reception area was almost deserted with only the receptionist to watch as he made his way across the room to the front doors. Just as he came close to the doors, though, he saw a frantic purple pony running up the outside ramp. Fortunately, she looked through the glass before barging inside. Eyes wide in surprise, she slowed and opened the door, staring at him and the nurse.

He gave her a hesitant smile and hoped she wasn’t too upset he hadn’t been immediately behind her. If he wasn’t exactly where Aunt Petunia expected him to be when they were walking . . . well, the less said about that the better. As when he was with his Aunt, with the nurse beside him as a witness, the purple unicorn would remain cordial — although how she would react once they were behind closed doors he wasn’t as optimistic about.

“You’re walking on two legs,” she said wonderingly. “Why are you walking on two legs?”

He gulped. He hadn’t thought that she would mind him doing that, that she might be embarrassed by him doing that. He quickly dropped back onto all four hooves. And promptly face-planted as he tried to approach Twilight.

Before the nurse could move a purple glow appeared around him and lifted him into the air just high enough for him to regain his hooves. “Oh, yes,” she said, “I see. You aren’t used to walking the way we do.” She frowned a bit.

As did the Doctor on hearing what she said.

He closed his eyes briefly. She wasn’t happy. With magic, she could do things that Uncle Vernon had never thought to do. He felt his breathing become faster and a shallower. Maybe living with her would be a big mistake.

“How about this,” she suggested. “I’ll put my field under you and when you start to fall, I’ll catch you. That way you can practice walking without getting hurt?” She smiled happily, hopping back and forth between her front hooves.

She wanted him to walk like a normal pony, walking upright was forbidden. He nodded quickly.

“Goodbye,” he softly said to the nurse, “Thank you for your help.”

“Goodbye,” she replied with a smile.

Harry knew she watched them as they slowly left the hospital behind.

It was very strange to feel that light touch of Twilight’s magic field. At first, it was a nearly constant struggle to stay upright and he spent more time held up by her magic than walking on his hooves. And in the beginning she walked at a slow enough pace that he could easily keep up, but then she started talking.

“I’ve told my friends about you,” she said enthusiastically. “They can hardly wait to meet you.” When they reached the foot of the ramp, she turned left, sped up a fraction, and dragged him along behind her. “They’ve all gathered at the library to wait for us.”

He had no time to look around at the nearby buildings or Ponyville’s inhabitants, as he spent most of his energy, and eyes, on watching his hooves and trying not to slip up.

“Oh, this is just so exciting,” she said, speeding up again. His hooves barely had time to touch the ground before she moved him forward.

One of Dudley’s friends had had a small blow-up pool in their front yard one summer. Harry had watched from where he was weeding ’Tunia’s flowers as the kid’s dog had jumped into the pool. Dudley’s gang had all laughed hysterically when one of them held the small dog over the water and the dog had started to paddle his feet as if he were swimming in the water instead of suspended over it.

Harry felt something like that dog right now. He was moving his arms and legs as if he were walking, but the unicorn wasn’t letting him put any weight on his legs. He felt really stupid at the whole situation. And yet at the same time he found her magic absolutely amazing as it seemed to wrap entirely around his body like a blanket.

“Even your three filly friends are there! I’ve managed to get Pinkie Pie to tone things down to a small welcome party, but she’s insisting that later she’ll have a bigger party to introduce you to everypony. So today’s just a ‘welcome to your new home’ party. I hope you don’t mind.”

She sped up again. He gave up trying to walk and just curled his legs slightly above the ground. She was ignoring him completely as she talked, carrying him in her magic as if he were a package.

He didn’t even try to fake the appearance of walking, instead he stared at the odd buildings they passed and listened to her non-stop descriptions of her friends and how they met. She kept referring to these things called elements, how they reflected the personalities of her friends, and how proud she was of them.

One building looked like a carnival carousel and was owned by her friend Rarity, whom he would meet at the library. She was very generous, it seemed. Another was like a giant ginger-bread house with candies stuck all over it; her friend Pinkie Pie worked there as a baker, she was always arranging parties and making ponies laugh. “And she makes the best muffins and sweets you could ever want,” Twilight had explained.

Even the “normal” houses were odd, with roofs that looked like old-fashioned thatch, and walls that swept up in curves from the ground instead of straight verticals. There were bridges between some of the building that connected them on the first floors. Several looked like circus tents made out of wood with slanted walls and roofs that twisted and curved and tilted like a jesters cap, complete with round balls or other decorations at the top.

These ponies clearly had never heard of the concept of a zoning board. And yet, somehow, nothing clashed. Everything seemed to fit together in a cohesive whole that just seemed . . . right.

By the time they reached her home, the library, she was cantering along at a good rate of speed. She was moving far faster than he could hope to move on his own at the moment.

The library left him breathless with wonder. It was a giant tree with windows and balconies, and there were at least four floors inside. And from the greenery present, it was clear the tree was alive. How had they done that?

She flung the door open and trotted inside. Once they were inside she released him and he scrambled to stay on his feet at the unexpected drop. Fortunately, he managed to avoid face-planting again. She hadn’t even noticed she had been carrying him instead of merely supporting him as he walked. Or else she had thought that carrying him was less embarrassing for her than having all the ponies watch as he stumbled and almost face-planted behind her.

“We’re here!” she cried out cheerily as the door closed behind them.

The only resemblance the inside of the tree bore to a library was that there were hundreds of books on shelves that seemed to be a part of the tree. The only table was in the middle of the room, and it was currently buried under platters of what looked like cupcakes and muffins. The room extended upwards for two floors, easily. He could see several lofts over the ground-floor bookshelves with more books and the windows he had seen from outside. A banner hung across the opposite wall that said, “Welcome to Ponyville Harry Potter.” Crowded near the table were a bunch of ponies, and three fillies he easily recognized. A blue pony with a rainbow mane floated near one of the upstairs alcoves, slowly flapping its wings in an impossible feat that defied all laws of physics that he had read. He stared briefly.

Before he could take in more, there was a pink mass in front of him and someone yelling, “HI! I’M PINKIE PIE.” She thrust her leg out for a hoof-shake, “YOU MUST BE HARRY POTTER! I’m so . . . ,” the rest of what she was saying trailed off into silence.

Harry, having an adult suddenly in his face, shouting, and throwing out their hand in what he could only assume was a punch, reacted as experience had taught him. He dropped to the floor in a tight foetal curl. He tucked his arms tight to his sides to cover his ribs and stomach. He covered his face with his hands, now hooves, for protection as he screamed, “I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! I PROMISE I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN!” He waited, panting in panic, for the kick that inevitably came next.

8 — Library of Terror

There was only silence. He peeked out from behind a hoof to see the pink thing was a pony with the most upset, horrified look he had ever seen, her mane hanging limp around her face. Twilight, the purple one, looked absolutely furious.

Oh, God! He had embarrassed her in front of her closest friends. He whimpered, and with a few frantic kicks at the floor managed to hurl himself under a couch he hadn’t even realized he had seen. There was more silence.

He listened closely, shivering uncontrollably. His life most likely depended on knowing what was about to happen next. He should have known better than to expect things here to be different. At the Dursleys he knew the rules, here he didn’t. He had no right to expect the rules to be different.

“PINKIE,” hissed Twilight in a partial whisper. “I told you to be gentle and not to scare him!”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo quietly said, “He’s already tried to run through two walls the last time someone scared him. And that was Princess Celestia just being polite!”

“What was THAT about!” demanded an unknown pony at the same time.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” said another as she realized exactly what his reaction must mean.

There were hoof steps coming towards the couch, so Harry wriggled a bit farther back from the couch front. A moment later, a yellow pony laid down in front of him, and then lowered her head to look under the couch. She had a light pink mane. “It’s alright, Harry Potter” she said softly. “No one is going to hurt you, I promise.” She had gentle air about her, and she seemed nice.

There was something soothing about her mere presence that slowed Harry’s racing heart and eased his panicked breathing. He could hear some hurried whispering going on above and behind the yellow pony.

She smiled at him ruefully. “Pinkie is overwhelming when you first meet her. I know, because when I first met her I didn’t come out of my house for a week. I don’t think she could hurt anypony, not even by accident. She just wants to be friends with everyone and loves to give parties for any reason you can imagine! And many you can’t!” Her voice was calm and soothing.

She paused, then said, “Come on out, I promise you’ll be safe.” She continued coaxing in that vein for several minutes as Harry considered what to do next. The longer the yellow pony remained in front of him, the calmer he became, and he started to think again.

He couldn’t leave, he had nowhere to go, and knew nothing about this bizarre world he now found himself in. The Princess had ordered Twilight to take care of him, so she wouldn’t just let him escape, anyway. If he tried to run away, she would find him again, using her incredible magic, no doubt. Or just cast that scanning magic spell and follow the screams to where he was hiding.

Purple hooves walked over to the couch. He started shivering again. Twilight suddenly laid down beside her friend and looked under the couch at him. “I’m not mad at you, Harry,” she said softly. “I’m angry at your relatives for treating you so bad. I’ve never seen anypony react like you did just now, for any reason.” She sighed. “I’m really sorry you were startled like that by Pinkie. She really means no harm . . . she’s just . . . awfully enthusiastic about meeting new ponies and throwing them parties. She just wants to be friends with everypony, and to make everypony happy.”

Slowly, the two coaxed him into crawling out from under the couch. Only after he put his front hooves on the couch seat and pushed himself up to his hooves did he realize that he had once again automatically reverted to standing on two legs. He looked at the ponies with more than a bit of fear. He had forgotten that Twilight didn’t want him walking on two legs.

The three fillies were staring at him with awe, the adults were simply surprised. Twilight was looking at him with a calculating look that was directed more at his legs.

The yellow pony wrapped one of her wings around his hips in a move that felt oddly comforting to him.

“Oh! Oh!” cried the pink pony, making Harry flinch. “I can do that!” Her long straight hair puffed up slightly. She promptly jumped up onto her rear legs and sauntered over to Harry as if she had grown up doing that. Just as he now towered over the fillies, she towered over her friends, and him. Much more calmly, smiling widely, she said, “Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie.” She slowly extended her right foreleg down to him. “I’m so sorry I startled you,” she said in a sincere apologetic tone, her expression changing to very sad.

Hesitantly, he reached up and wrapped his “finger” around her hoof. It felt really weird to be doing a handshake with what amounted to his middle finger. But a full human handshake would have had him reaching halfway up her leg — all the way to the bend that on a human would be the wrist, but on a pony he would call an elbow — while her actual elbow seemed to be somewhere near her chest! On the other hand, or hoof, if he turned his hoof around and lifted it sharply, he was giving someone the middle finger — he could feel that his other two fingers were somehow pressed against the knuckle joint of his middle finger. Heh, he could give every pony he met the middle finger and they would never suspect it! That brought a brief smile to his face.

Encouraged, Pinkie suddenly was offering him a cupcake in her other hoof. He stared at it in confusion. How was she holding it with only the concave base of her hoof? Tentatively he tried to take it in his hoof, wrapping his finger around it. It was very awkward, but he managed.

He looked up at her and then over at Twilight, wondering if he could eat it. The purple unicorn nodded her head reassuringly. The yellow Pegasus nudged him, nodding as well.

He took a small nibble. It had to be the best, sweetest, cupcake he had ever had. It was also the first cupcake he had ever had — Dudley had made sure of that. He couldn’t help it as he looked over to the centre table to see if there were more of those wonderful things, and hoped he might be allowed to eat one more.

“Uh,” said one of the fillies, Apple Bloom, he thought, “You’re not supposed to eat the paper cup, too.”

He looked at his empty hoof, then over at her. “Oh?” he said, “You’re not?” He shrugged. “Tasted good, though.”

Pinkie’s eyes got big, or at least bigger than they were. “Make the paper cups food, too?” She started to hyperventilate. Harry wanted to take a step back, but his legs were already pressed against the couch behind him.

“Brilliant!” she yelled, jumping into the air and hovering there for a second. She ran out of the tree house so fast she left a pink outline drifting in front of Harry for a moment and a streak of pink out the door. The door opened and closed so fast it was like a flashbulb going off as they briefly saw the bright sunshine outside.

He blinked and looked at the other ponies. Twilight was face-hoofing while both the blue pony and the one standing beside Apple Bloom were just shaking their heads. The white one beside Sweetie Belle was rolling her eyes. The yellow one was standing beside him, still with her wing wrapped reassuringly around his hips so that he knew she was there and supported him. It helped keep him calm. He dropped back down to four hooves before Twilight got any madder at him for being on two. She shifted her wing to drape across his back and rear legs, and hugged him slightly.

“Well, anyway,” Twilight finally said, “These are my friends. This is Rarity,” she pointed to the white pony with a deep blue, almost purple, mane and tail, “she owns and runs the Carousel Boutique, as I told you. And that’s her sister, Sweetie Belle, beside her, whom you already know.”

“Hello, my dear,” the unicorn pony said with a cultured voice and delicate nod of her head.

Harry managed a meek, “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” back to her. He was not good at meeting adults. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had made sure any adults he met were well aware of his “reputation.” At all such meeting he was usually met with suspicious hostility. Anything short of meek was considered rebellious and disrespectful. If not by the other adults, then by his Aunt and Uncle.

“This is Applejack,” Twilight continued pointing to an orange pony with a yellow mane and tail and wearing a Stetson hat that was standing beside Apple Bloom. Like Apple Bloom she had neither wings nor horn. “It was her orchard, Sweet Apple Acres, where you were found by Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo. Apple Bloom is her sister.”

“Howdy,” that pony said, with the distinct American Western accent just like her sister Apple Bloom, but thicker.Harry wondered how that had happened — why would these ponies have southwestern yankee accents?

He nodded back to her and managed another meek, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“And I’m Rainbow Dash, fastest Pegasus in Equestria!” the blue flying pony said excitedly, zooming closer. She quickly pulled back when she saw Harry flinch, crouch at the sudden movement, and edge back under the yellow pegasus’ wing. Rainbow Dash had a multi-coloured mane and tail, and buzzed around the library like a huge hummingbird. Her wings, however, beat far slower than even a normal bird would need to do to stay aloft. Harry could only stare in amazement.

Harry managed to squeak out, “Hello, ma’am,” blinking rapidly at the strange antics of the flying pony.

“The pony beside you is Fluttershy.”

Harry took another look at the yellow pony. She had a pink mane and tail. He smiled bashfully at her, and whispered, “Thank you.”

“And you’ve already met Pinkie Pie.” Twilight gave him a guilty look, “Sorry about her scaring you. She can be quite . . . enthusiastic at times and doesn’t realize how pushy she can be, sometimes.”

Harry simply nodded. It was best not to speak around adults unless they said something to him that he was supposed to respond to verbally. Nodding or shaking his head was always wiser.

Fluttershy led the tetchy colt to the food laden table and offered him another cupcake. The trip was not without pain, though, as his inexperience at walking on all fours dropped him on his face twice. He was sure he could have made the distance just fine on two legs, but he was afraid Twilight would get upset at him for his “freakish” ways. Fluttershy remained beside him, her wing across his back, nice and reassuring.

“Hey, Twilight,” he heard Rainbow Dash ask, “When did you get that couch? I don’t remember seeing it there yesterday.” Everyone turned and looked. To Harry’s amazed recognition, the couch looked like a twin of the one in the Dursley sitting room, but much bigger. It towered over him, his head barely reaching the seating cushions. Looking at it, he had to wonder, how had he managed to fit underneath it in the first place? The sofa bed certainly didn’t have a lot of room underneath the cushions!

He sighed. Magic. Naturally.

He was mystified as everyone else about the couch’s presence, as well as where it could have come from. After all, he had a magic-killing ring on his horn, so he couldn’t have done anything, right? He took the cupcake offered by Fluttershy and stuffed it into his mouth.

It was odd, it was actually harder to stand on three legs while using the fourth to hold the cupcake than it was to just stand on two legs. He really wanted to stand up, but dared not anger Twilight.

He quickly discovered that Scootaloo was Rainbow Dash’s fangirl. After egging Dash on to tell Harry about her exploits, she listened avidly as the blue Pegasus bragged incessantly about her prowess as a flyer. Rainbow Dash, it seemed, was quite the braggart and awfully full of herself. She seemed to enjoy being the centre of attention. The others listened and rolled their eyes, occasionally, but never said that what she said wasn’t true. Based on how the other ponies nodded and seemed to back up her claims, she must have had the ability to live up to her bragging. An unusual combination to Harry’s way of thinking. Most braggarts he had met actually had very little to brag about, making mountains out of bumps.

More than once, though, Harry was puzzled to hear references to something called the Element of Loyalty. How loyalty fit a braggart left him shaking his head.

He spent the next few minutes stuffing himself with cupcakes and muffins supplied by the yellow Pegasus. He only took what was offered and made no move to appropriate any on his own — doing that would lead to certain punishment. The Apple juice she gave him was sweeter than any he had ever had, and he quickly polished off the first glassful.

He watched as the others, even the adults, ate even more of the sugar-loaded foodstuffs than he did while he listened to Rainbow Dash pontificate on her greatness. He wondered if the ponies didn’t have to worry about diabetes with all the sugar they were downing.

Eventually, Twilight came over to them and asked if he’d like a brief tour of the library. He did, but worried if he would anger her with his clumsiness. He shuffled awkwardly on his hooves, not sure of how to answer without getting in trouble.

Fortunately, Fluttershy once more came to his rescue and guided him along the tour, her wing draped over his back. She let him lean against her to provide a stabilizing influence.

Almost directly opposite the front door and entryway was a winding staircase going up to one of the alcoves, “That’s where my bedroom is,” Twilight said. “It’s also where Spike has his basket.”

At the mention of the dragon’s name, Harry looked around and saw Spike standing beside the white unicorn, Rarity, looking up at her. From the look on his face, Harry suspected he was infatuated with the much older pony. He was also, to Harry’s amazement, apparently eating a jewel!

He looked back at the staircase, this time with a critical eye. Harry leaned sideways and examined the side of the staircase. The wall underneath the stairs seemed to be solid wood, as in the stairs were carved directly into the tree. There were no signs of a door, just more book-loaded shelves.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Where’s the cupboard door?” At the pony’s puzzled look, Harry pointed to the side of the stairs.

“Cupboard?” Twilight asked, puzzled.

Harry swallowed, “Uh, yes. You know. The cupboard where you’ll lock me in at night? You know, for sleeping?” Assuming she wasn’t just going to tell him to sleep on the floor. Or was he assuming too much? Did she have a shed out back she expected him to sleep in? Like the Dursleys sometimes did when they were especially angry with him or going somewhere for the weekend and didn’t want to bother Mrs. Figg?

She stared at him, appalled. “Sleep in a cupboard?” Her voice rose, incredulous at the idea.

His mouth was suddenly dry as he shrank back under Fluttershy’s wing and leaned against her. “Uh, yeah. That’s where I slept at the Dursleys,” he said in a very low voice. Ah, he thought and gave a slow nod, realizing that he was supposed to sleep outside.

Surprisingly, Fluttershy hugged him tightly against her side with her wing, and whispered, “Oh, you poor thing,” and turned her head to nuzzle his neck in a way that was oddly soothing.

“There isn’t a cupboard under these stairs in this library,” Twilight Sparkle said coldly. “And even if there was, you wouldn’t be sleeping there. Your bed is right beside mine, up there.” She pointed a hoof.

He sat down and stared up at her, and then up at the side of the alcove above. “I’m sleeping in the same bedroom as you?” he asked incredulously. “In a real bed? Like a normal . . . .” He stopped dead.

Her face rapidly went through several expressions but ended up smiling. “Yes, you have a real bed right beside mine,” she said emphatically.

All he could say was “Wow” in a very quiet voice. He had never slept in a room with someone else before. Not even at Mrs. Figg’s.

Fluttershy was hugging him tightly, now. He had never been hugged like this before, that he could remember. Certainly neither his Aunt nor his Uncle had ever hugged him. It felt awkward and almost uncomfortable, but at the same time it felt very nice. He didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing and let her do what she wanted. He had to wonder why she was doing it though.

While he was still thinking that through, Twilight Sparkle pointed to the door to the left of them. “That leads to the basement underneath us, which is my laboratory.” She gave him a severe look, “Don’t go down there without me, there are some very dangerous things down there, especially for a small colt like you. So, no exploring the basement! Got it?”

He nodded quickly, although he saw the three fillies exchanging looks. Scootaloo, especially, seemed interested in what was behind the door, and started slinking towards it.

The kitchen came next, as did the downstairs toilet and sink in a room tucked beside it. “There’s another toilet upstairs with a full bath and shower,” the purple unicorn said.

“Excuse me,” Fluttershy said very quietly as she took a step into the toilet room and closed the door.

Harry immediately sat down. He wasn’t about to fall on his face again, tonight, not if he could help it. He would wait right where he was for her to come out.

Scootaloo was the first to notice. She was in the middle of inhaling another muffin at the centre table when she stopped and stared at him. First her eyes opened wide, then they narrowed. She almost said something, but then she didn’t.

Alarmed, Harry looked around before realizing her eyes were riveted to his hip. She trotted over, staring.

He glanced down at his hip. He had already seen what she had just noticed. Right where all the other ponies had those strange tattoos, cutie marks, he thought they called them, he had a long scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Back at the hospital he had taken the time to carefully examine Nurse Redheart’s “cutie mark,” as she had called it. She had been quite proud of it, truth be told.

It wasn’t a simple tattoo where coloured ink was used to stain the skin permanently, that wouldn’t work with ponies where fur would simply cover up the artwork. Instead, the ponies’ actual fur was different colours. How they did that he wasn’t sure, but he was positive that the answer was magic.

However, in his case it wasn’t a tattoo that made his fur a different colour there, there was instead an actual scar carving its way through the fur, leaving a rift in the fur in the shape of a lightning bolt. If it weren’t for the torn skin revealed one might think that someone had merely cut the fur there close to the skin to make that lightning shape.

“What a shame,” the nurse had said, “When you get your cutie mark it will be defaced by that awful scar. Who would do such a thing to a foal?”

Knowing nothing about cutie marks nor what they meant in this pony society, he hadn’t really understood what she meant. To him, it was just a scar, like the one on his forehead.

“Oh. My. Sweet. Celestia!” Scootaloo said, “That’s not a cutie mark!”

The other fillies quickly crowded over and studied it intently. The adults drifted over to look as well.

“Does it hurt?” asked Apple Bloom, gently touching the scar.

Harry shrugged. “No,” he said softly.

Sweetie Belle looked a bit sick. She glanced at her own flank, then said in a half-whisper to her friends, “I think there are worse things than having a Blank Flank.” She moved around to his other side and gasped. “There’s one on this side, too!” The others pushed around Harry and stared.

Sweetie Belle leaned against him, nuzzling his neck. Apple Bloom moved to his other side and did the same. Scootaloo moved in front of him and leaned sideways across his front. She rubbed the back of her neck against his chin.

Harry found that to be as confusing as comforting. Not that he was upset about the scar or anything, but having the three fillies just leaning against him somehow made him feel better. But why were they doing that? Were they doing it for him? Or for themselves?

Fluttershy came out of the toilet-room and smiled to see the three fillies grouped around him, comforting him. Until, that is, Rainbow Dash told her about his scars. Then she briefly sported a horrified look before transitioning to one of pity. She once more wrapped her wing around him and cuddled him close. He wasn’t sure why.

That was pretty much the official end of the “party.”

Applejack was first to abandon them. “Come along, Apple Bloom, it’s getting tyme fer evening chores and then dinner. Ya know Granny will pitch a fit if we ain't thar.”

Harry had to wonder just how much of a dinner they would eat after spending the afternoon stuffing their faces with sweets. On the other hand, Apple Jack hadn’t seemed the least bit worried about Apple Bloom ruining her appetite by gorging on sweets before dinner time.

Back in Little Whinging he had heard kids complaining about their parents denying them sweets when dinner time was close. Never having had that problem, himself, he had found himself envious of having someone care if he ruined his appetite. With the Dursleys, he was lucky that they remembered to let him eat dinner at all.

“I have to check tomorrow’s cloud schedule,” Rainbow Dash said. She flew up to one of the alcoves that had an open balcony and left.

“I’m so sorry, but my animal friends are expecting me home to fix their dinners,” Fluttershy said looking at Harry sadly.

Rarity was next, and said apologetically, “I have an important order to finish for tomorrow. And Sweetie Belle,” she gave her sister a glare to get her to move from Harry’s side, “has homework she needs to finish.”

Reluctantly, Scootaloo said, “Auntie Loft’ll be upset if I miss dinner again,” and after one last nuzzle against Harry’s neck headed out the door as well.

The library felt oddly empty after they all left.

9 — School Dazed

Dinner was a salad that Spike previously had prepared and placed in their refrigerator — basically a big wooden box with a magic spell on it to keep everything in it cold.

Twilight floated three big bowls onto the kitchen table and sat down. Spike hopped up onto a special chair that put him at the right height to eat. That left several other chairs grouped around the table. Apparently Twilight frequently had guests over to eat. Harry managed to climb up onto the chair where his salad had been placed. He had to prop his fore-hooves on the table.

And yes, he was right, Spike did eat jewels.

“But isn’t that expensive? Where I come from jewels are not cheap,” Harry said, staring.

“Nah,” said Spike, “You can find them all over the place out here. The expensive ones are the ones that can be enchanted.”

Harry shook his head wonderingly. “Where I come from jewels of any kind are valuable and expensive. And enchanting is what they look like, not something you do to them.” He was amazed at the thought that what he considered valuable was as common as dirt.

He looked around his bowl for any silverware. He was about to ask where the forks were when he noticed that Twilight had levitated the salad into her muzzle and started chowing down. He frowned as he watched her, then decided to give it a try himself.

After several moments of nothing happening, Twilight noticed his difficulty and sighed. He felt a warmth around his . . . forehead . . . and a moment later he saw a large ring float over to Twilight. “I don’t think you need this anymore, do you?”

Harry had forgotten about that thing after wearing it for so long. It was as if a fog had lifted from his thoughts. They were clearer now. He shook his head, and again turned to stare at his salad.

“Spike, would you get Harry a knife and fork?”

“He’s a unicorn!”

“He also has never used his magic before.”

Sighing, the dragon-child grumpily got down from his chair and retrieved the utensils from a drawer.

“Hmm,” Twilight said quietly, “This is odd. This suppression ring is cracked.” She held it up rotating in front of her eyes. “It must have been defective.” She gave him a contemplative look. “I wonder when that happened.” A smile quirked her lips. “I guess we’re lucky you didn’t teleport away earlier, right?” She placed the broken ring on the table.

Harry just stared back at her.

Spike hopped back up onto his chair, sliding a knife and fork over to him.

Using what he used to call his index finger, Harry managed to pick up the fork.

At first he was taken aback when he saw the dandelions in his bowl, but then, he reflected, that as an herbivore such things were normal. To his surprise, it actually tasted good. All too soon he found himself licking the bowl clean — which Twilight never said a word about — and that was in spite of stuffing himself earlier with muffins and cupcakes!

The rest of the evening they spent with her teaching him how to levitate things. By the time he started yawning, and protesting he wasn’t the least bit sleepy, he had managed to lift a bottle cork.

He marvelled that his bed really was right beside Twilight’s.

He had never felt anything so soft before in his life, and he fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

Going down stairs as a quadruped was not a pleasant experience, Harry decided. The moment his butt was higher than his head, his brain insisted he was about to take a header down the stairs and to immediately stand and go down the stairs standing upright, like a proper monkey. So, he did. And it worked just fine. He wobbled a bit, and there wasn’t a railing to hold onto, but he made it.

Unfortunately, the next time he went down the stairs, Twilight was watching and he tried to do it as a pony would. And ended up tumbling the entire way down. It wasn’t too awful, that is he didn’t have a concussion nor a broken arm like the time Dudley had pushed him, but it was still disagreeable. It would take a lot of practice before he would ever feel comfortable doing that. He decided to learn how to teleport as soon as possible — if he could do it by accident, then he could bloody well do it on purpose! That way he could skip the stairs.

Harry stopped the moment he saw the school house. It was as unlike the primary school in Little Whinging as he could imagine. It was a wooden building, red, with fancy decorations of lines and diamonds painted on the walls. Giant hearts had been carved into the walls and then windows placed in them such that the tops of the windows almost covered the hearts, leaving the hearts’ tops and sides in view. The windows were tall and thin, easily double the height of the hearts, with a set of three visible on the side he could see. The roof was steep, with a bell tower capped by a heart-and-arrow shaped weathervane, and the roof’s edges were decorated with more hearts and curled lines. There was even a porch with its own tiny roof decorated exactly the same as the main roof. A flagpole was beside the building, featuring a galloping pony at the top and a red flag that ended with two points.

It was, without a doubt, the most girly building he could imagine.

And it terrified him.

In Little Whinging he had been excited to go to kindergarten, at first. A chance to get out of the Dudley house and actually meet other kids! Kids that weren’t Dudley’s friends, kids that Dudley hadn’t bullied into avoiding him. Kids whose parents didn’t think he was a miniature hoodlum.

That hadn’t lasted the day. Dudley had either chased off anyone interested in being a friend or alerted the other bullies about a new victim. He was right back where he had been at the house, only with more bullies. And, rather quickly, the other kids had discovered he was the perfect mug. They could do almost anything they wanted and as long as the teacher didn’t actually see them do it, they could blame Harry without worrying about getting into trouble themselves. Even the nice kids took advantage of the get-out-of-jail-free card that blaming Harry gave them.

Harry had discovered later that his uncle had sent a letter, via Dudley, to the teachers explaining that Harry was “untrustworthy.” That he was a liar and a thief. That if anything went wrong, it was most likely Harry at fault. And, for some reason, the teachers had taken what his uncle had said as gospel truth.

Since then, every advance in grade had been with the same kids as the previous year. The kids who had been interested in being a friend had turned on him. He became the outsider — no one liked him, everyone was mean to him. Sure there might be one or two new kids from families that had just moved to Little Whinging, but for the most part it was always the same group of bullies — almost everyone else in the class. And the new kids, perhaps being afraid of being treated the same as he was, went along with the group. Soon, they, too, blamed him for things they had done because they knew they could get away with it. Or they were mean to him because they needed someone lower in social rank than they were to vent their frustrations on.

Was this going to be the same? Was he again going to be blamed for anything and everything that went wrong? Was he going to be alone in a group?

“Are you alright, Harry?” She had noticed him shivering and the panicky look in his eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll make lots of new friends. You already have three in Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom,” Twilight said warmly.

Harry wasn’t convinced. After the previous night’s total freak-out he wasn’t so sure they would want to have anything to do with him. That’s what would have happened in Little Whinging. Whoever had seen his melt-down would eagerly tell their friends while laughing, and then the entire class would spend days making fun of him. And ostracising him. In addition to their normal “blame Harry” incidents.

He took a shaky step forward and they slowly advanced to the school, with Harry dreading every step. Twilight kept encouraging and nudging him, but he didn’t hear a word of it over the pounding of his own heart and fears. He wasn’t like the rest. He was a person masquerading as a pony. Once again, he was the freak, the weird one in the bunch, the one who was different. They just didn’t know it yet. But when they did . . . .

This time everything was backwards. The unicorns could do magic, the pegasi could fly, and the rest could make plants grow. All he could do was teleport when he was terrified out of his mind. He was a one trick fake pony.

Cheerilee met them at the door. “Oh, good! You’re right on time. Class will start in about half an hour and I want to go over a few things with you, Harry Potter.” She looked over to Twilight. “You can stay, if you want.”

Twilight looked at the way Harry was shivering, “Yes, I think I will, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Come on inside.”

Inside, Harry could see that the school was divided into two classrooms, one on each side, with a small anteroom for cloaks and boots.

“This room,” she pointed to the left, “is for the older students, like you Harry Potter.” She gave him a quick smile. “The other is for younger students and my assistant, Miss Hackney, teaches them.”

Harry nodded jerkily.

“What I’d like to do is for you to be up here by my desk when the school bell rings, then after everypony is seated, I’ll introduce you. I’ll tell them you just got out of the hospital yesterday and you might still be a little unsettled. Alright?”

Harry nodded in tandem with Twilight.

“Your desk will be this one here,” she said, walking into the classroom and placing her hoof on the back of a chair at the rear of the classroom. There were twelve desks, three across by four deep. His desk would be in the last row and in the middle. Each desk had a small stool to sit on.

Harry nodded.

“Now, then,” she continued, walking to the front of the classroom, “You’re more than a little behind the other students regarding Equestria’s history, so you’ll need to study hard to catch up.” She looked back at him. “I’m sure your little friends will be happy to help you. And if they can’t, Twilight can!” Twilight chuckled along with Cheerilee. “Your reading is slightly above your age level, Harry Potter, so that will help. Unfortunately, you can’t write with either your unicorn magic or mouth writing, so I’ll have to give you remedial lessons after school until you’re reasonably proficient.” She looked at Twilight. “It’ll be about an hour at first, then drop to half-an-hour for a while. Whatever help you can give him at the Library will speed that up.”

She stopped and stared at Twilight. “He’s a colt. He doesn’t have your single-mindedness. He needs time to play with his friends. No more than an hour a night! Okay?”

Twilight blinked, then nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“Your math skills are quite good, Harry Potter. You’re ready for secondary arithmetic already, a year ahead of your age group, which I’m told is almost ten.” She looked back at Twilight, “You might see if he has any interest in pursuing that, it would help with his spell casting, as you know.” She turned back to Harry, “I might ask you to help out some of the other students, if you think you wouldn’t mind?”

Harry stared at her, momentarily stunned out of his nervousness. Him? Help others? He nodded several times, “Er, yes, if you think I can help,” he said shyly.

“Excellent,” she said, very pleased. “Well, why don’t you put your school things in your desk while we’re waiting?”

A few minutes later he was back beside her desk. Waiting for the school bell. Listening to the growing crowd of ponies outside calling and yelling to each other. He noticed a couple of ponies poking their noses into the room and rapidly retreating on seeing him. He kept shivering. He tried to control it by locking his knees, but that didn’t help. He couldn’t stop taking small gasps of air, and then nervously swallowing, as he stood there, waiting and trying not to run out of the room in a panic.

Finally, the minute hand of clock at the back of the room reached eleven. Cheerilee grabbed the rope in the room’s middle corner with her mouth and yanked down. The bell above the school began to ring.

Immediately he heard the stomping of hooves on the porch and running into the anteroom, then several ponies boisterously burst into the classroom, hurrying towards their desks. The first three through the door stopped only steps into the room, causing a bottleneck as the ones behind them, not expecting the leaders to stop, crashed into them and knocked them all to the floor.

Harry blinked at the pile of ponies at the classroom door. If he hadn’t been so anxious, he would have laughed at the jumble. It took several minutes to sort out as the ponies outside tried to push their way in so they wouldn’t be counted late and kept knocking down the ponies in front as they tried to stand back up. Cheerilee just stood and shook her head ruefully. Twilight hid her grin behind her hoof.

Finally, every pony was seated and staring at Harry. Except for the Cutie Mark Crusaders, of course, they were waving hello. They were in a group at the back, with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom sitting in front of Sweetie Belle. His desk was behind Scootaloo and beside Sweetie Belle. He smiled wanly at them, still taking small panicky gulps of air. His stomach hurt, too.

“Good morning, everypony!”

“Good morning, Miss Cheerilee,” responded the class.

She smiled broadly. “Today, we have a new student, Mister Harry Potter!” She waved a hoof towards him. “He’s only recently arrived in Equestria, so he’s going to need a bit of help in catching up with us in some subjects, such as Equestrian history, geography, the Princesses, and the nobles. Plus, he only got out of the hospital yesterday, so he is still a bit unsteady on his hooves. He’s recovering from breaking his shoulders, so please, no rough-housing until he’s completely recovered.” She stared at a couple of the colts.

“Now, then Harry Potter, would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself?”

Harry startled and stared at her, wide-eyed. She hadn’t told him she would do that! He looked out into the classroom and saw everypony looking at him expectantly. He opened his mouth, and at first nothing came out. But then, something did . . . .

All that air he had gulped came back up.

In other words, he belched.

Not a simple small burp, like from an upset stomach or a soda. No, this was different.

It was clear. It was loud. It was long.

And he couldn’t stop it.

Harry had heard telly shows where fog horns blew in the background.

This was deeper. This was louder. This was longer.

He could feel the floor vibrating under his hooves. Or was it that he was vibrating against the floor?

He imagined he could hear the windows shaking in their frames.

He sat back and clamped both fore-hooves over his mouth the moment it stopped. He stared at Miss Cheerilee, horrified. She’d throw him out for sure!

She was staring back at him in astonishment, as was Twilight.

The class stared at him in amazement. Most of the girls’ shocked expressions slowly moved to frowns of disapproval, although more than a couple of the colts grinned widely in delight. One loudly said, “Wicked!” and started to laugh. “That was awesome!” said another, laughing as well. Soon, the entire class was laughing.

Harry just stared at Cheerilee. It was only when the edges of her mouth twitched up and she said, “Well, that’s a memorable introduction!” that he started to relax. “Well,” she continued after a pause, “You might as well take your seat, Harry Potter.”

“Harry,” he mumbled, “Just call me Harry.” His face was hot with embarrassment, but at least his stomach didn’t hurt, anymore.

She nodded, “Okay . . .Harry.” And smiled.

All three of his filly friends gave him hoof bumps as he sat, and broad grins. Scootaloo murmured, “Wicked introduction!” to him

Morning recess was a mob around Harry as they all tried to question him. He tried to be as honest as possible without revealing he had come through a portal. He didn’t want them to think he was any more abnormal than he already appeared.

Twilight waved goodbye as she headed off to do whatever it was she did.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, Diamond Tiara brought everything to a halt. “That’s not a Cutie Mark! That’s a scar! What happened to you?” She pointed at his flank as she, and everyone else, stared at Harry’s butt, aghast.

Harry shrugged as he shuffled, embarrassed at the attention to his naked butt. “I don’t know, that’s always been there.” He tried to tuck his tail close.

She looked around at everypony and asked, “Does that mean you can’t get a Cutie Mark?” She shrank back, as if afraid she might catch a disease.

Harry shrugged again. “Twilight said I should get a Cutie Mark when the time comes. And that it might even erase the scar when it does. Or not.” He didn’t care one way or another. He didn’t understand what the fuss was about, he just wished they’d stop staring at his butt.

The end of recess brought an end to that line of questioning.

Lunchtime was fun. It was the first time he had ever had someone to play with on the swings and slides. And watching the pegasi fly around playing tag was enlightening. You had to watch in all directions!

As she had said, Cheerilee spent an hour with him after school teaching him how to hold a pencil in his mouth and write. The straight strokes weren’t straight, and circles were impossible. But even he could see an improvement when they stopped.

Twilight walked him back to the library while grilling him on his day.

However, before he started on more practice, either with his mouth writing or his magic, she wanted to do an experiment.

“I’ve spent all day devising these experiments, so we’ll know where to concentrate our efforts!”

“Umm, Twilight?” Harry asked nervously, “I normally don't question the scientific method, but are you really sure this is going to work?” (*)

“First off, the scientific method is a body of techniques for investigating the phenomena of our world. What we are doing is simply one step in that process,” she replied airily while making sure the straps on Harry’s colander helmet were secure. Wires came out of it to the boxy desk his forelegs were propped against, and thence to some equipment at the side of the room. “Secondly, I know this will work. The Whooves-Gait test is the most accurate and well-known magical analytic test in existence.”

Harry gave Twilight a worried look.

“Now, because I’m doing a test on your magic you’re going to feel a slight tingle just under your fur.” Twilight put a pair of welder’s goggles over her eyes and then gloves, — no, gloves were for hands, those must be socks on her front hooves. They looked to be made of rubber. Those were for protection from the electricity, he supposed. He only now noticed that she had thigh-high work boots on her rear legs and was wearing a rather thick lab coat. “This tingling is normal, but please say something if you feel a burning sensation, all right?” she said soothingly

“What’s with the goggles and that outfit?” he asked worriedly.

“Safety first!” she said kindly as she pulled down a large electrical lever. Harry was not reassured. He winced as the lever clicked home.

The test was . . . well, it was strange. Harry squirmed a bit and tried to keep from laughing, but it wasn't easy. It felt as if someone had taken a feather and was using it to tickle every square centimetre of him. Thankfully, it only lasted for ten seconds before Twilight switched the machine off and moved eagerly to the printout that was now spewing from an opening on the side of the machine.

He was very relieved to discover that his scar had barely hurt at all, just a mild warm feeling on his forehead.

“Well,” Twilight said after perusing the printout. “You seem to have a normal affinity for magic. The magic surrounding you — a shield, for want of a better word — isn’t hostile and seems quite passive. However, the spell fragment in your forehead is hostile and the shield is only active at that location — the two seem to be in equilibrium with one another. The shield is powered by itself, apparently, which should be impossible. I suspect my test isn’t sensitive enough, which would mean that the ambient magic in the world is supporting the shield. And being ambient magic it shouldn’t be powerful enough to do that.”

She looked up at Harry. “You said you’ve always had that scar, so that must mean that there is magic in your world, or both the spell fragment in your scar and the shield would have fallen apart long ago.”

She danced a little quick-step, spinning in place, grinning broadly with her eyes wide and gleaming. “Oh, this is soo exciting! A self-sustaining shield without runes!” She looked over at her equipment. “I’ll get started on modifying this for tomorrow!” She sighed happily. “You, on the other hoof, should start practising your mouth-writing!”

Harry sighed and headed upstairs.

Borrowed from Irrespective’s story “No Nose Knows,” fimfiction. With a few . . . alterations. (Included here just so I could do the omake below. And it’s an omake because Harry’s reaction is totally out of character for him at this time.)

“Umm, Twilight?” Harry asked nervously, “I normally don't question the scientific method, but are you really sure this is going to work?”

“First off, the scientific method is a body of techniques for investigating the phenomena of our world. What we are doing is simply one step in that process,” she replied airily while making sure the straps on Harry’s colander-turned-into-a-helmet were secure. “Secondly, I know this will work. The Whooves-Gait test is the most accurate and well-known magical analytic test in existence.”

Harry looked at the straps securing his fore-legs to the equipment he was leaning against. He gave Twilight an apprehensive look as she tugged on the rear-leg straps to make sure they, too, were secure. He was well and truly bound in place.

“Now, since I’m doing a test on your magic you’re going to feel a slight tingle just under your fur.” Twilight, giggled oddly while putting a pair of welder’s goggles over her eyes and then black gloves — no, gloves were for hands, those must be socks on her front hooves. They were thickly quilted rubber, he thought. He only now noticed that she had thigh-high work boots on her rear legs — shiny black boots that looked sturdy enough to wade through lava.

She levitated a bulky white lab coat over her torso, he had heard from telly shows that coats like that were usually lead-lined, from the quilted stitching that criss-crossed it. “This tingling is normal and nothing to worry about,” she continued. “But please say something if you hear screaming that isn’t you, you start seeing dead ponies, or you feel as if your horn is being ripped out of your skull, all right?” she concluded sweetly and much too cheerfully.

He was becoming seriously alarmed and would have left, if he could, especially after that last statement. “What’s with the goggles and that outfit? And is all this,” he nodded and tugged at the straps as he asked nervously, “really necessary?” He gulped. He was even more immobile than he had been in the casts at the hospital.

“Safety first!” she shouted as she grabbed a large electrical lever and laughed maniacally. “Prepare to do SCIENCE!” she yelled enthusiastically as she yanked the lever down.

Harry was not reassured.

Harry wondered why she didn’t use her magic to pull the lever.

Harry winced as the lever clicked home.

There was a moment’s thoughtful silence. Then he screamed. Twilight reflexively slammed the lever to the opposite position. “Harry!” she yelled, panic-stricken.

He slumped back into the chair.

His head lolled to the side, eyes almost closed.

“I’msorryI’msorry!” she shouted as she darted over to him. “Whereareyouhurt?” She began frantically casting diagnostic spells.

He cracked an eyelid wider open and looked at her, grinning widely. “Gotcha!” he whispered. Then he started to laugh.

Twilight stared at him uncomprehendingly. Slowly, she sat back onto the floor.

“You should have seen your face!” he said, between bouts of laughter. “You should see your face, now!” he amended, laughing even harder as he tried to point a strap-restrained hoof at her.

Later, as he hung magically stuck by his hooves to the basement ceiling, he shouted, “I regret nothing, nothing, I say.” He chortled. “Oh, god, her expression! Purr-riceless!”

Up above, he heard the library door open and hoof-steps enter, and then stop. After a moment, he heard Applejack say, “Twilight? Why is yer basement giggling?”

10 — The Ponyville Lake Siege

Later that evening, he startled Twilight when she saw him writing with his fetlock grasping the quill

“Well, I already know how to write, and my tongue and lips were getting tired, so I decided to try to write with my hoof,” he explained. He pointed with his other hoof, “This is like the tip of my finger.” He pointed at his fetlock joint, “and this is my knuckle.” He indicated the big bone that was next, “This is my palm. And this is my wrist.” He pointed much farther up his foreleg.

He grinned at her and held up his fetlock-held quill. “This is like holding a pen in the palm of my hand instead of with my fingers.” He frowned. “I don’t have nearly as much control as I used to. I have to move my whole arm to write, but it’s so much easier than that mouth-writing,” he concluded.

“Really?” She came over and inspected how he was holding his quill. Books started to fly over and a moment later they were both looking at a drawing of a pony’s foreleg and comparing it to a drawing of a dragons “hand.”

“You’re right!” she said excitedly. “You’ll have to show this to Cheerilee, this might be a new and better way to write!”

He stared at his hoof. “It would be even easier if I had something I could fit onto my hoof to hold the pen. Then I’d only have to move my hoof instead of my leg. It’d make it much easier and faster!”

A spoon came flying out of the kitchen. A minute later, with the help of a couple of sticking and bending spells, Harry was writing much better than he had been, and almost as well as he used to in Little Whinging Primary.

Harry grinned happily. No more staying after school learning to write all over again.

Unfortunately, Harry discovered on the next day, Miss Cheerilee disagreed. While she allowed him to write how he wanted, she insisted he learn how to mouth-write, just in case he ever hurt his right foreleg. This afternoon lesson would be the last one, but she did tell him she planned to test him periodically. And have Twilight work with him in the evenings.

To Harry’s surprise, after finishing practice mouth-writing that afternoon, the three fillies were waiting for him.

“We thought you might like to join us in crusading today,” said Sweetie Belle.

“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom, “We’re almost finished with our siege engine!”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Mass Destruction Engineers! YAY!” shouted Scootaloo.

Harry stared at the three ponies. “Ookkkaaaay,” he said slowly. Were they pretending they were ancient warriors or something?

“Come on,” Scootaloo said, turning and heading for a scooter with a small wagon behind it. The other two quickly hurried after her and hopped into the wagon. Harry followed a bit slower, taking steps carefully.

So, this was the contraption that they had used to convey him to the hospital. The scooter was surprisingly familiar, just not as tall and much longer than the ones he was familiar with — not unreasonable considering the fillies were longer than they were tall and needed the extra foot-space.

One leg at a time, he climbed into the wagon, which was barely large enough for the three of them. The other two didn’t seem to mind the close quarters at all, so Harry tried to ignore his uncomfortableness at being in close contact with others. And wearing no clothes.

Scootaloo gave a solid push with her right-rear leg and started flapping her wings at an incredible rate. That, Harry realized, was the odd buzzing sound he had heard that first day. And it was a very easy method for moving the scooter. Much better than periodically pushing with one foot. And allowed faster speeds, as he discovered to his dismay.

“We’re goin’ ta my place,” Apple Bloom explained as they hurtled through the town at an insane speed for such a small vehicle.“That’s whar we’re building the tree-book-shed.” Harry gripped the sides of the wagon tightly as they bounced up, down, left and right, and sometimes on two wheels even though they were going straight. He briefly considered grabbing the wagon-side with his mouth for additional safety, but was afraid he might lose a few teeth on the bigger bumps. The ride became progressively worse as they left the road and started across the orchard in Sweet Apple Acres.

A few terror-filled minutes later they coasted to a stop beside something Harry had only seen in books. A trebuchet on wheels — a stone-powered catapult with a sling.

It had a horizontal rectangular frame, with one set of three poles on each side forming the vertical supports — which had to be twelve feet high, at the shortest. They held up the throwing arm, which towered over them by another twelve feet. Attached to the bottom of the arm, barely above the bed of the trebuchet, was a large empty bucket. A rope hung from the top of the arm. Midway down the rope was what looked like a heavy-weave section of cloth. The end of the rope dangled into a trough, centred between the supports, which ran the length of the rectangular base. Carved into the side was “Made by Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom — Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

Harry slowly walked around the device, staring in disbelief. He turned to the fillies who were at the edge of the path separating the property from the forest. They were filling Scootaloo’s wagon with rocks as fast as they could find them.

“Where did you get this?!”

Scootaloo looked up and said, “Come on, help us fill the bucket.”

Harry walked over to them and half-heartedly picked up a fist-sized rock in his fetlock and dropped it in the wagon. “Where did you get that?” he repeated.

“We built it!” Apple Bloom said proudly after dropping another rock in the wagon.

“And let me tell you the arithmetic on how big to make it was a killer!” added Sweetie Belle, adding another rock.

Harry just stared at them, speechless. Finally, he said, disbelievingly, “You built it?”

“Yep.” came the chorus, accompanied by the thuds of three more rocks dropping into the wagon. “Took us almost a whole week after school,” explained Sweetie Belle as she levitated another rock into the wagon.

It took them the rest of the afternoon to load the trebuchet’s bucket using the ladder and their saddlebags. By the end, Harry was levitating rocks the size of his hoof into the wagon. And he was almost exhausted.

Then they pulled the throwing rope down until the top of the throwing arm was at bed and the bucket was lifted high. A short rope loop tethered the arm to the trebuchet’s bed. The end of the throwing rope had a small loop, which they placed over a pin sticking out of the throwing arm.

Now that it was closer he could see there were two ropes, one tied to each end of the sack. They pulled the sack down the length of the trebuchet’s trough until the ropes was stretched out almost completely to the opposite end from the pinned throwing arm. It took all four of them to roll a small boulder onto the sack. They pulled the sack edges out around it to form a cloth cup. Just like the cup of a slingshot, Harry realized.

Finally, Scootaloo ran up to the lynch-pin holding down the throwing arm. “Okay, fillies! Ready?” She grabbed it in her teeth. Harry tackled her before she could pull it.

“NO! NO! NO!” he shouted. “NOT SAFE!” In a calmer voice, he said, “Let’s tie a rope to the pin and pull it out when we’re at a safe distance, so if something goes wrong nobody gets hurt! Okay?”

Grumbling about unnecessary delays, Apple Bloom ran back to their clubhouse and returned with a coiled rope. Far more than they needed, but that was alright.

A few minutes later, the four of them stood thirty feet away. Harry felt they were still far too close but he couldn’t convince the girls to go any farther away. Scootaloo again said, “Ready? Here goes!” She grabbed the rope in her mouth and backed up quickly. The rope went taut and then slack as the pin popped out.

It looked like it was moving slow at first as the arm started to swing upright, but the sling moved quickly down the trough in the middle of the bed and then lifted the boulder into the air. They watched the boulder shoot out over the orchard.

“IT WORKS!” shouted Scootaloo.

“WAHOO!” shouted Apple Bloom.

“YES!” shouted Sweetie Bell, pumping her right foreleg.

“Oh my god,” said Harry, “It worked. And it didn’t kill us.”

The three fillies ignored him in favour of immediately turning to look at their flanks. “Ah, horsefeathers,” said Scootaloo at not seeing a cutie mark.

A moment later, they heard a crash. The fillies ran as fast as they could while Harry hurried as fast as he dared. The boulder had gone almost two hundred feet before hitting a tree — and snapping it in half while knocking it over.

“Uh, oops?” said Scootaloo.

“Aw, horsefeathers! AJ’s gonna kill me!”

They started kicking and pushing the boulder back to the siege machine. They had barely moved it fifty feet before they heard the pounding of hoof-beats. “Aw, Celestia, I’m in so much trouble!” mumbled Apple Bloom, shaking her head dejectedly.

Applejack came into view at a full run, with Big Mac right beside her. They slowed on seeing the three fillies and Harry.

Harry sighed. He knew the script for this story. He would end up being blamed and banned from seeing Apple Bloom, which would mean losing the other two as friends as well. Well, it had been fun for the short while it lasted. On the other hand, or hoof, they had saved his life. And the few times he had admitted to doing something wrong back in Little Whinging his punishments had not been as severe — at least at school.

Applejack and Big Mac came to a halt and alternated looking at the four, the boulder, and the splintered broken tree. “What in tarnation happened here?” Applejack stared at Apple Bloom accusingly. She already suspected the CMC were responsible for this mayhem, the only question was how.

“Well . . . ,” started Apple Bloom.

“Um . . . ,” started Sweetie Belle.

Scootaloo tried to look innocent, as if she had no idea what Applejack was talking about.

“It’s my fault,” Harry said.

Five heads swivelled to look at him, with expressions of varying degrees of incredulity.

“When the girls showed me the trebuchet they built, I couldn’t wait to see it work,” he continued.

Applejack looked at Big Mac and mouthed the word trebuchet?

“It looked just so cool! So we loaded the bucket with rocks and then put this boulder in it. I should have said something about which way we were aiming, but I was in too much of a hurry to see it work, so I didn’t say anything.”

Which was a lie. He hadn’t paid any attention at all to which way the silly thing was pointing, he hadn’t even expected it to work!

But if it kept the girls from getting into any trouble, then it was worth it.

Applejack looked at him, then sadly shook her head. “Oh, Harry, ya can’t lie to me. Didn’t Apple Bloom tell you Ah hold the Element of Honesty? I ken smell a lie faster than you can say it.”

Harry let his head hang down. That was right, Apple Bloom had mentioned it. He had just thought it meant she was really bad at telling lies, not that she could detect lies, too.

“Let’s try again. What happened?”

Ten minutes later, the two adult ponies watched with dropped jaws as a repositioned trebuchet launched its boulder two hundred feet down the path between Sweet Apple Acres and the Everfree forest. It smashed into a tree at the edge of the forest, breaking the trunk in half. They had been aiming for the middle of the path

Applejack looked at the siege engine. “Why in tarnation did you all build this?”

“Well,” Apple Bloom explained, “I was doing homework on the Earth Pony tribe two weeks ago and the book mentioned the ancient siege engines the Minotaurs used against them.” She started to get excited, “And I thought, ‘Hey, there’s something we could try, building siege engines. So I went to the library and asked Twilight Sparkle if she had any books on how siege engines were made. She pulled a couple off the shelves and I copied the one plans for the one that looked easiest to build. The arithmetic was difficult, but Sweetie Belle worked it out.”

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle, getting into the story. “The book had these e-qua-sions that all I had to do was put in the weight we wanted to throw and then when I finished the arithmetic it told us how long each piece in the engine had to be to work. I figured about a pony’s weight would be cool.”

Applejack sat down and stared at the trebuchet. Harry figured she would be having words with Twilight about just which books she allowed the fillies to read.

Harry turned and looked, too. It was quite a work of art, actually. And three fillies had built it in a week. That said volumes about their commitment to the project and how hard they had worked. It even had their names carved into its side. Harry was impressed. He couldn’t imagine anyone from his primary school doing anything like this, not even if a whole class worked on it.

Applejack slowly stood, then faced the four of them. “Ah’m impressed,” she said slowly.

The fillies burst into brilliant smiles. Harry frowned. He knew there was a big “But . . . .” about to be said. In cases like this, there always was.

“But,” she continued as the fillies’ ears fell back, “Ya’ll made quite a mess out of one of my trees.” She stared at them threateningly.

They spent the rest of the day, and after school the next day, chopping the ruined apple tree into smaller woodstove-sized pieces. They picked up the cut pieces and hauled them back to the house to cure for next year’s use. Big Mac was their occasional supervisor.

Oddly, they discovered that the centre of the tree was rotted out. Applejack had noticed that for the last two harvests that tree’s apples hadn’t been as good as the other trees. She would have probably had it removed in a few years, anyway. The CMC had just moved up the removal date.

Two weeks later, on Saturday, when the fillies were finally off being grounded, they were once more standing beside their siege engine — at Scootaloo’s insistence.

“You know,” Scootaloo said speculatively, “I bet I could fly farther than that apple tree with this thing . . . .”

Sweetie Belle looked at her. “What?”

Apple Bloom looked at Scootaloo, and then at the trebuchet, and then back at her again. Then the red-maned pony’s eyes went wide open. “Ya aren’t thinkin’ . . . ?”

Harry looked at Scootaloo and put his right foreleg over his eyes. “Yes, Apple Bloom, that is exactly what she’s thinking.” He walked over to Scootaloo. “It’s too dangerous. We have no control over where you would go, and hitting a tree, even by accident could kill you!”

“But that won’t happen! I can fly! I know I can!”

Harry closed his eyes. He had a headache starting.

Then, he had an idea. He smiled.

“Sweetie Belle?”

She looked at him.

“Isn’t there a lake nearby?”

“Yes. Ponyville Lake.” After a thoughtful pause, she smiled, too.

It took them almost two hours to haul the siege engine to the lake. Just following the path didn’t do it as sometimes two trees grew too close together for the trebuchet to fit between them, thus they had to find a way around them. Still, soon enough, they were looking down the small incline to the lake.

Harry studied the lake and then the trebuchet. They were about a hundred feet away and the lake looked easily to be twice the length of a football field across from here. Perfect. No chance of overshooting.

“Let’s move the trebuchet over to the side by that tree. We don’t want to block the path,” he suggested.

Once it was in place, and blocks placed to prevent it from rolling, they pulled the throwing arm down, set the lynch-pin, and then set the looped-end of the throwing rope over the holding peg at the tip of the arm. With four of them at work, it didn’t take long.

While the three fillies started getting Scootaloo ready, Harry ran the rope from the lynch-pin over around a nearby tree trunk and back over to the fillies. This was a dangerous scheme, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk Scootaloo out of it.

And she had saved his life. It was his turn to keep her safe.

“Is your helmet on tight?” asked Sweetie Belle as she used her magic to give the strap a sharp tug.

“Yep.”

“Give me yer saddlebags, ya don’t need them,” said Apple Bloom pulling the release strap with her teeth.

He knelt down and tied the rope loosely around Scootaloo’s leg.

“Are your wings okay? Not tired er anythin’?”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, but stretched her small wings out. “They’re just fine.”

Harry trotted calmly over to the trough and settled himself onto the cloth launching cup. He pulled the cloth cup up over his back and made sure all his hooves were tucked tight against his torso.

“Hey!” called Scootaloo, “What’re you doing, Harry?” She started towards him.

“Just making sure this is safe for you girls,” Harry called back.

Harry saw Scootaloo feel her left-rear leg get pulled as the rope went tight against the tree. Scowling she took another step and yanked her leg forward, thinking Apple Bloom had grabbed her hoof.

The rope went taut. Apple Bloom said, “Hey! What’s with the rope?”

Sweetie Belle said, “Stop, Scootaloo, stop!”

Harry watched as Scootaloo yanked her leg again, turned, and yelled at Apple Bloom, “Let mah leg go!” He heard the “pop” as the lynch-pin came free. The cloth cup was suddenly hard against his back. He slid halfway down the trough, then felt himself lifted into the air. The world shot by faster than any car he had ever ridden in as he was slung around in a half-circle and found himself flying through the air upside down. To the side, then below, and then behind him he heard three shrill voices crying “HARRYYY!”

He tumbled out of control through the air. The sky alternated with ground and then water. It was kinda fun, he thought, until he realized all he could see was the water rushing up at him. Then his plan's flaw in trying the trebuchet first came to mind.

He didn’t know how to swim.

The splashdown knocked the air out of him. He kicked furiously, terrified he was about to drown. His head popped to the surface and he took a deep breath before going under again.

But he had kicked himself to the surface, He started paddling and kicking as hard as he could. And, remarkably, he returned to the surface and stayed there. He was doing a dog . . . pony paddle.

He didn’t have the slightest idea where he was going, but at least he wasn’t drowning. Until, that is, Scootaloo almost ran him over. She was clutching a board in the water barely bigger than she was, and her wings were beating like a hummingbird. “Are you alright?” she cried.

“Ahhhh!” he said, “Don’t kill me!” He paddled frantically, turning to keep her in sight after the board’s wake rolled water over his head.

She didn’t. Instead, she gave him the board to hold while she hooked her legs around his body and used her wings to propel them back to shore.

Now that he knew it wouldn’t kill them, the trebuchet became the ultimate diving board. They each took turns, with Scootaloo going the farthest, of course. Harry kept his hooves on the ground, and would stay there until he felt confident that he could swim across the lake without drowning first.

By then it was midmorning and the other kids seeking a little recreational swimming started to show up. And they wanted to try the pony thrower, as they called it. A line rapidly developed with eager teams of Earth and Unicorn fillies and colts pulling down the firing arm in anticipation of their own experience at flying like a Pegasus.

Contests quickly developed for the most tricks performed before splashdown. And most graceful. And biggest splash.

The loud, and unusually clear, happy screams coming from the vicinity of the Ponyville Lake — now that the screamers were higher than the hill between the town and the lake — quickly drew the attention of the adults. Just what were the fillies and colts up to this time?

“But it’s not made for adults,” Sweetie Belle explained. “I designed the weight for a filly or colt. You won’t make it to the lake.”

“I’ll go first,” said a pegasus stallion. “If I fall short, I can just fly instead.”

He didn’t fall short. He didn’t go as far as the fillies and colts, but he made it past the shallows. Screaming adults brought the rest of the town to the lake.

Unfortunately, the adults “modified” the “pony-pitcher,” as it had now been renamed, so that an adult had to be there to “unlock” the arm for use.

But, then again, that wouldn’t be too difficult a thing to accomplish — based on the adult scream coming from the trebuchet as it swept yet another earth mare off the trough and flung her out across the lake at almost one hundred miles an hour. That was by-far faster than any non-Pegasus had ever moved before — even the fastest of Equestria’s trains didn’t top more than forty-five.

Indeed, the problem might be getting the adults to leave enough time for the fillies and colts to use it!

To prevent the trebuchet from being moved, the CMC, with some help from the other colts and fillies, levelled part of the hill, removed the wheels, and anchored the frame with vertically mounted short posts. The trebuchet was now a permanent fixture for lakeside fun. A fitting end, Harry thought, for something designed to destroy.

Almost every morning was surreal — Harry had never shared a room before. Waking to a room lit by the morning sun was merely unusual — when he stayed with Mrs. Figg she let him sleep in a real bed, which was softer and more comfortable that his cot in the cupboard, but not by much — and she didn’t make him fix her breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

But the rest? Yeah, Surreal. Listening to them lightly snoring — was there a spell that could stop that? Not that it was a real problem, just curiosity — while lying in a bed so soft it might as well have been a cloud. Moving his legs under the covers — no hands or feet anymore, watching the shadows play across the ceiling and walls as he just . . . enjoyed not doing anything and knowing he wasn’t going to be punished for it.

He usually started on his meditations.

Eventually, though, his bladder would inform him that he needed to move.

The bathroom upstairs was spacious, much more so than he had expected. The tub and shower were larger, which they would have to be to fit a mostly horizontal quadruped instead of a vertical biped. The toilet . . . was an experience. And awkward for a biped, which he wasn’t anymore. But he was never in a hurry. At first, he didn’t use the tub/shower because he was afraid he’d make Twilight angry if he woke her and she couldn’t immediately use the facilities herself. Later, he waited as a courtesy to his host.

As quietly as possible, he’d sneak down the stairs — no easy feat when your feet are actually hard bone hooves! No matter how gently he placed his hooves down there was always a little “clunk.” Still he usually managed to make it to the ground floor without waking the others.

He always started the day reading and studying. He tried to find the simplest of the books on a given subject and levitate it down — that is, he used his levitation magic to pull the book far enough forward off the shelf for it to fall. The first time he had done that, it hit him in head. Hooves, he had found, were terrible at catching things. He had sighed. “Note to self,” he had murmured, rubbing his forehead, “don’t stand under objects you are learning to levitate.”

Then he would retire to the reading table and settle in.

Which was where Twilight and Spike would find him when they came down stairs.

After breakfast, and his shower, he would go off to school during the week, and off with the Cutie Mark Crusaders on the weekends. The evenings he spent reading up on the topics he didn’t know that every colt and filly knew — history, literature, geography, and everything about the Princesses and nobles in Canterlot. Which, coming from a human world, he found fascinating instead of the boring tedium that the other colts and fillies complained about.

And being grounded in a library, after yet another Cutie Mark Crusade misadventure, wasn't something he would call punishment.

11 — Meanwhile . . .

Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards), looked up from his desk and smiled slightly. He waved his hand gently. The door to his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry opened just as his Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, reached the landing outside it.

“What can I do for you this wonderful morning, Minerva?” he asked congenially, leaning back in his chair.

“The same thing you do every year at this time, Albus,” she replied in her usual no-nonsense tone. “Tell me how Harry Potter is doing.” She sighed as she sat in the chair opposite his desk. “This is his tenth birthday. Only one more year before he comes to Hogwarts.”

Smiling, the old wizard looked at the bookshelf against the wall of his office and behind his Transfigurations professor. To anyone else, he looked as if he was simply looking up and thinking. Instead he was examining three certain silver devices hidden among the several dozen residing on the bookcase’s top shelf. “Let’s see,” he said thoughtfully. He studied them as if he didn’t check them every day, after waking and before bed.

One looked like a metronome, its black wand moving slightly back and forth instead of standing straight up or pointing to either side. Its triangular backing and round base were both a neutral silver-grey in colour, although the backing had thirteen horizontal black lines that divided it into fourteen equally tall sections.

He closed his eyes momentarily and said, “Harry is doing well, but he is neither happy nor sad.”

“I would expect him to be excited on his birthday,” she said frowning severely.

“Perhaps he is still asleep,” the Headmaster gently countered, his eyes twinkling. “Sleeping-in on such occasions is not unusual.”

“Still, it is rather odd that every time I ask, you give the same response. I find it troubling that Harry never seems to be happy,” she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Dumbledore shrugged delicately. “The burdens of being brought up by your aunt and uncle instead of your mother and father, I expect,” he said.

He looked to his next instrument, a squat round tube lying on its side and sealed at both ends. A long thin smokestack, almost as tall as a textbook and taller than the cylinder was long, stuck up from the nearest end. Eleven black lines divided the cylinder into twelve sections, and all were a dull silver-grey. It was sending up small puffs of white smoke from its chimney. Its square base was a bright silver platform.

Again, he closed his eyes, then said, “He is in good health, and has been for the last year, as usual. No injuries of any kind, not even a minor scrape.”

McGonagall shook her head. “Now that is unusual. His grandmother told me his father never made it through a week without some kind of cut or scrape, even if it was just tripping on the front steps and barking his shin.”

“His mother, on the other hand,” the old wizard said, “rarely had such problems, I recall you telling me.”

Professor McGonagall reluctantly nodded.

The Headmaster looked at the third device on the shelf. A simple vertical wheel spinning and shimmering with all the colours of the rainbow. Its base was oblong. And the support was a half-circle. It was actually a bit hypnotic, and he sometimes found himself watching it when he was stressed.

He smiled. “His mother’s protection on the Dursley home is still as active as ever,” he said happily. “Showing that he is getting the love he needs from his aunt. It certainly isn’t as great as his mother’s. But it is there. Just as it has been for the last nine years. And, no one has attempted to breach the protective charm since I placed it.” He looked back at his Deputy in mild reproof.

She nodded.

“So, Minerva,” he said softly, “Have I managed to lay to rest your concerns for the coming year?”

“I still think you should visit Harry instead of relying solely on monitoring charms. Even the muggle social workers visit their charges on occasion to evaluate what is really happening instead of relying on second-hand information.”

He shrugged, “A visit might inadvertently disclose his location to wizards we would rather not have that knowledge. A skilled practitioner could follow even me without being detected were I to chance it. Which is the reason why I’ve requested you and Hagrid to not visit the child, and all the others to not look for him.

“And can you imagine what the Daily Prophet would print if they knew he was living with muggles? And how to find him? And what the Wizengamot would do in reaction? Or the Death Eaters that managed to escape capture ten years ago?”

She shuddered, “Yes.” She fixed him with a steady gaze. “But monitoring charms can only tell you so much. Visiting Harry, if only for a few minutes, would tell you more.”

Again he shrugged. “My charms are rather thorough. I have complete faith in them in relaying to me all the relevant information I need.”

He smiled at her, “Besides, Mrs. Figg checks up on him regularly.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “A squib who sees the boy once every few months when the Dursleys ask her to watch him is not the same as going into their home and seeing his living conditions, Albus. And if the Dursleys don’t call her, she can tell us nothing. She doesn't even live on the same street, so she can't tell us if she happens to see him outside in the summer. And didn’t you tell me that last year they only called her four times, including just once since January?”

Half-heartedly, the Headmaster nodded. “Yes. And as he gets older I imagine they will rely on her even less. However, if he were to come over to her house and showed signs of being treated badly, she would have told us. And she can’t very well sneak over there and peek in their windows, now can she?”

Reluctantly, she said, “No. Well, I guess this will just have to do, won’t it?” She sighed. “I still think placing him with those muggles was a mistake.”

He sighed, in turn. “We’ve been over this before, Minerva. I had no real choice. Black was in Azkaban, Amelia had lost almost her entire family and was in no shape to take on a toddler. Mary, Emmeline, Hestia, and Dorcas were all single. And Remus’ monthly problem would have made it impossible to keep his location a secret. And the Death Eaters were carefully checking all the Grey and Light families looking for the child in the days after the attack, and before the Longbottoms were targeted. So my choices were either the Dursleys or sending him overseas.” He looked her levelly in the eyes. “I stand by my choice.”

“I know,” she muttered softly. “I just wish it could have been different.”

She stood. “I’ll see you at lunch, then.” She left his office, the door silently closing behind her.

Dumbledore sighed and looked at his fourth monitoring device, a simple vertical stick on a small round disk, with three lights in a small vertical rectangular box on top. A muggle would immediately recognize its traffic-pole shape. As it always was, the red and yellow lights remained unlit while the green one glowed dimly.

He hadn’t told anyone of the existence of the last two of the five devices on the shelf designed to monitor the boy at all times.

While the wizards couldn’t find Harry at home, that didn’t prevent a clever Death Eater from hiring or charming an unknowing muggle into doing their dirty work for them. It might take years for such a strategy to work, but Death Eaters were known to be patient when necessary. Thus, the fourth device monitored his very special muggle-repelling charm on Harry. Any muggle with the intent to kill Harry, remove him from his relatives, or trying to interfere in the family, would be subtly redirected and made to forget what they had intended to do. It reinforced anything his aunt and uncle told others, to help distract attention from Harry. If they told someone to leave the boy alone, that person would do just that.

The old wizard was pleased to see that the all-black device hadn’t the least bit of colour anywhere except the green light. That meant no one had approached the boy or interfered in his relationship with the Dursleys for at least a year. And that had never happened. Like the other devices, it tracked Harry for the last twelve months, or fourteen days for the happiness monitor. He hadn’t bothered to make the devices track things any longer, not seeing the necessity.

Albus next looked at the crystal globe filled entirely with white smoke, last of the five devices monitoring Harry. It was on a simple silver base. He smiled to himself. That had been a stroke of genius, although devilishly hard to cast correctly. It watched Dumbledore’s special version of the fidelius charm that redirected any wizard’s or witch’s attention away from the one who had vanquished Lord Voldemort.

Harry Potter, for the wizards and witches, was forever linked to the missing Dark Lord. They could not think of one without thinking of the other. Hence, any wizard or witch searching for him would be blocked by the charm. Muggles, on the other hand, would only know of Harry Potter, not his wizarding history, and have no such impediment.

And should a wizard see him, well, while they would recognize him, they would never be able to remember where or when it had happened. And if a quick-thinking wizard were to see him and place a tracking or monitoring charm of any kind on the boy, Dumbledore’s special variation of the fidelius would block it from reporting anything useful. The charm would appear to work, but report nothing of consequence. And that would keep the boy safe from all harm.

“Where is our little pumpkin?” asked Petunia, as she walked into the sitting-room, “The roast is almost done!” The aroma of the evening dinner drifted through the house — roast beef with caramelized onions in gravy, roast potatoes with cinnamon butter, carrots and peas, and Yorkshire pudding. A delicious blend of scents that set her husband’s mouth to drooling.

“You know how he likes your dinners. I’m sure the little rascal will be home any moment,” said Vernon jovially as he watched News and Sport on BBC Two.

“I certainly hope so,” she replied, glancing back into the kitchen. “He has been spending a lot more time with his friends lately.”

The obese man glanced up at her, then scowled. “Well, now that that freak is out of our lives, our son has more free time. And he’s out of that boy’s disrupting influence.” He fell silent for a moment.

She sighed, eyeing the cupboard door which they hadn’t opened in days, “He’s only been missing for two weeks. He might show up again.”

“I feel that our luck has finally changed, my love. He’s gone, and gone for good.”

“One can only hope,” she said. She frowned. “I wonder what set him off?”

Her husband grunted. “Who cares? He probably found a mug that he could leech off of. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. If we never see him again, it’ll be too soon!”

Dear Celestia,

It’s probably good that we haven’t found that portal to Harry Potter’s home-world yet. The more I learn about those beasts he calls relatives, the more I find myself wanting to hurt them. I’m trying not to be a bad pony, but the details he’s mentioned (see enclosed notes) make it so difficult sometimes.

The things he’s told me about his home-world, though, are simply astounding. If we do find the portal, or it reopens, the things we could learn will revolutionize magic and science as we know it (see the enclosed notes on the things he’s told me about)!

Harry seems to have made friends with Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo (the Cutie Mark Crusaders, in case you don’t remember). I’ve written to you of their escapades in the past. I’m hoping this both helps him integrate better into our world and to slow them down. He seems to be more cautious than they are, so there’s hope on that subject. (see my enclosed notes on the Trebuchet they built, and its current use at Ponyville Lake). It’s truly amazing how many of their Cutie Mark attempts end up with them covered in tree sap — even those that have nothing to do with the forest or trees.

He’s fitting well into school, Cheerilee tells me. He’s very quiet and polite, and studies hard. I told you about his innovation on using his fetlock to hold a quill, and how we fashioned a quill-holder for his hoof (see enclosed and improved diagram). His letters are already about as good as the average pegasus! Cheerilee has said several earth colts are showing interest in his method of writing. It certainly seems like something we should consider teaching instead of mouth writing – much more convenient and easier to use.

I’ve been running tests on his magic and he appears to have a magic well that is quite wide and deep for a colt his age. He will be quite a power-pony when he gets older. His scar, though, concerns me. It is definitely a fragment of something and not simply a remnant of a spell gone wrong. Its reactions to my diagnostic spells remind me strongly of the fragment of Sombra’s horn we found (see enclosed charts and records).

How he could have acquired it is also troubling. He says he’s had it as long as he can remember, which means that whatever happened to him, it was when he was a tiny foal. Somepony was casting highly dangerous spells either around him or at him, resulting in this scar. How could his parents have allowed this? And if not them, then his relatives! (See enclosed notes on what he can remember about the scar.)

And, most importantly, should we tell him about it (see enclosed notes on the pros and cons of such a decision)?

And then there is that protective magic field surrounding him. The only thing it responds to is that scar. Nothing else I’ve thrown at it gets any sort of reaction — it’s as if the magic field’s only purpose is to keep whatever is in the scar at bay. How the field was established and how it maintains itself leave me frustrated! All my attempts to create a similar field have ended in abysmal failure as they either drain magic from the subject or dissipate after only a few hours. And my field reacts to every spell I cast at it. Whomever created this field was an exceptionally knowledgeable, talented, and powerful magic user (see enclosed notes on the recordings and my tentative conclusions).

This is at odds with his firm statements that magic is unknown in his world. No matter how I look at it, my conclusions are disturbing in their implications (see enclosed notes).

Any suggestions you might have would be greatly appreciated.

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle.

.

P.S. I have run into a small problem with Harry. How do I punish him when he does something wrong? I don’t want to do anything that might remind him of his relatives and cause a panic attack or cause him lose his trust in us, yet the normal punishments, grounding him and making him stay inside, don’t seem to work. That is, when I grounded him after the Trebuchet incident at Sweet Apple Acres — he has to stay inside and can’t go play with his friends — he spent the entire time reading books. He acted like he was being rewarded! He even thanked me!

Princess Celestia handed the letter from her faithful student to her sister, Luna. “Have you been able to learn anything helpful about Harry Potter from his dreams?” she asked.

Luna sighed as she read the letter. “No, Tia. His dreams art extremely chaotic compared to most ponies. If it weren’t for his obvious calm acceptance of the events taking place, We would’st thinketh that he were reliving one of Discord’s more extreme pranks from a millennium ago when that villainous creature ruled Equestria.” She stopped for a moment to think. “His dreams segue from one disquieting fantastical setting to another in chaotic — and what should be traumatizing — manners. At times, sections or entire dreams rapidly repeat over and over with minor variations in details and outcomes that should leave him an emotional wreck in the morning.

“One moment he is a pony, another he is in his bipedal form, and in still another ’tis an odd combination of both. He notices not the changes, and doesn’t seem to care one way or another, accepting all with equal tranquillity.”

She shook her head tiredly. “We can’st not say what is of his world, what is of ours, and what is fantasy. We tried to stop one such misadventure the very first time We entered his dreamscape, to direct it and receive answers. All We accomplished was to reset the dream to a different beginning, and it dragged Us with it willy-nilly. Every time We interfere, the dreams just change their theme and remain thoroughly as chaotic and confusing.”

She sighed and laid her head on the table. “And he dost see'th nothing wrong with what is happening. He participates and reacts, but nothing seems to matter. His moods range from mildly worried to mildly pleased, even when what he dost hath no bearing on what happens.”

She looked over at her sister. “If it 'tweren’t for Twilight’s reports on his interactions with other ponies, We would think him quite insane.”

“Hmm,” Celestia hummed softly.

“Although, We must admit amusement at seeing that thy faithful student dost complaineth that restricting him to the library as punishment dost not work. We don’t think We hath ever heard of such a state of affairs.” She glanced up at her sister with a slight smile.

“Yes,” said the white alicorn, “That is a rather ironic complaint from Twilight.”

“Mayhaps, denying him the books wouldest work?”

Celestia sighed. “That was what I had to do with Twilight.”

They both studied their tea cups for several minutes.

“You should head for bed, Lulu,” Celestia suggested. “You’re about to fall asleep on your hooves. And you’re speaking in the royal ‘We’ again.” She gave her sister a loving look. “There certainly doesn’t appear to be any urgency in this matter, at least not enough to require you to skimp on your slumber.”

“Forsooth, We, I, thinketh thou mayhaps be correct.”

Princess Luna pushed herself to her feet and slowly walked to the door.

“Good morning, Tia.”

“Good morning, Lulu.”

12 — Weapons of Mass Destruction

Harry stared critically at the trebuchet as it launched another pony into the lake, this one doing various flips and spins before diving fore-hooves first into the lake. Her friends at the pony-pitcher cheered, then rapidly pulled the arm back for the next launch.

“How you didn’t get a cutie mark for that I’ll never understand,” he said quietly. A series of disappointed sighs sounded beside him.

“Well,” said Apple Bloom, “It really wasn’t that hard. It’s just a bunch of tree trunks we tied and nailed together. I think the hardest parts were the pegs in the throwing arm.”

They sat watching, waiting their turn. “Maybe we should make another just for the kids,” he said. “They get a bit restless waiting for their turn.” He looked at the fillies.

“A pony-pitcher for goats?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Kids, another word for fillies and colts younger than us.” He sighed. “It wouldn’t be as large and we could place it closer to the lake. That would also get some of the grown-ups off this one as they help their fillies and colts with the new one.”

The fillies thought that over for a moment, then smiled.

“We’ll start Monday, after school,” Sweetie Belle said decisively as they moved forward another few steps in the line.

That Monday evening Harry discovered just how difficult it was to remove tree-sap from one’s fur.

On the other hand . . . hoof . . . it was the first time he had ever had a long hot bath. That the fillies were with him in the tub was embarrassing at first, but their matter-of-fact attitude quickly put him at ease. Then he discovered the dubious joys of waiting for fur to dry in a dusty barn.

He was much more careful on the remaining nights. It didn’t prevent him from getting tree-sap on his coat, but there was much less of it. Although the hot baths with the fillies were a fair recompense, he decided, for getting rid of the sap.

On Friday they pulled the finished filly-flinger, as Scootaloo named it, into position. The previous day, with the enthusiastic help of their school-friends, they had levelled the prospective resting place much closer to the lake. For this one, they had dug four holes for the posts that would hold the smaller siege engine firmly in place.

They removed the wheels — they had reused the other trebuchet’s wheels — and placed the holding posts. They then packed the now-filled post holes with rocks and sand. Judicious stomping by Apple Bloom tamped everything firmly in place. They used a much smaller bucket so the smaller fillies and colts weren’t sent nearly as fast or as far as the bigger one. That, in turn, meant it was easier to prepare each time and the round-trips were shorter, making for more rides for the smaller ponies.

The icing on the cake, as far as the Cutie Mark Crusaders were concerned, was overhearing some grownups deciding to build a bigger pony-pitcher just for them, giving Ponyville three trebuchets as a recreational activity for all ages.

The addition of anchored rafts close, but not too close, to the splashdown areas made it safer. And ponies didn’t have to swim immediately back to shore.

Even the pegasi had gotten into the act, using the trebuchet as a dodge-ball game, where the thrown pegasus tried to aim for the hovering target. Usually, a pegasus could see an approaching opponent miles away, and could hear the air disturbance of their wings at a good distance. It was a great reflex improver to have an opponent suddenly pop up less than two seconds away and headed for you at great speed.

At some point, a unicorn had decided to participate. The unexpected participant shooting spells rapidly at the surprised pegasus playing target added a heretofore unforeseen dimension to aerial combat. The pegasi, fanatical adrenalin junkies that they were, were delighted at the new challenges this provided.

The trebuchets had become quite popular on the hot summer days. Even kids and adults from some of the closer villages were coming over to try them out. And Pegasi from all over were appearing at the lake.

Harry looked down at the four timber-wolves circling their tree and sighed. The three fillies were on branches over his, which kept the wolves’ attention on him.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time . . . .

“Harry,” Apple Bloom had said after school, “Ah wanna introduce you to Zecora!”

Sweetie Belle had interrupted, “AB, you know we’re not supposed to go into the Everfree after school!”

The four of them had been trotting towards the clubhouse.

“Aw, don’t be that way,” she had replied. “We won’t be long, and we’ll stick right to the trail. If we hurry we’ll be back home long before dinner!”

“Zecora?” had asked Harry.

There followed the complete story of how the Zebra had scared all the Ponyville residents, with the Mane Six getting dosed with Poison Joke and turned into their humiliating opposites. Twilight’s horn turned limp and flaccid, making her Twilight Flopple. Rainbow Dash’s wings turned upside down and on her lower sides, she became Rainbow Crash. Applejack shrank down to fit on a pony’s hoof and became Apple Teeny. Rarity’s mane, coat, and tail became frizzled, very long, and mop-like, making her Hairity. Pinkie Pie’s tongue became swollen and covered in blue spots, making her speak unintelligibly, and giving her the name Spitty Pie. And Fluttershy’s voice dropped several octaves and became Flutterguy.

By the time the story was over, the colt and fillies had arrived at the forest’s edge. And, somehow, had all now agreed that visiting Zecora just had to be done. “It’s a short walk,” Apple Bloom had assured him, “Not more than ten minutes. I’ve made the trip many times. She’s been teaching me how to make potions!”

The forest had been as foreboding as always, with that hint of malice and decay in the air that it always held. The trail Apple Bloom had set out on was at least a well-marked path. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all that wide and they had been restricted to single-file in the darkness under the trees.

It had been Harry’s first foray into the forest since his original escape. He had to say the forest was just as intimidating as he had been told. He had been in too much pain to notice when he had first arrived.

Five minutes later, they had heard rustling to their left. “Maybe we should go a bit faster?” Sweetie Belle had suggested nervously. They had sped up from a nervous walk to a trot.

Then they had heard rustling behind them. No one said anything, but they nervously had started to move faster.

Then a timber-wolf had jumped onto the trail in front of them. Apple Bloom had shrieked in surprise. They had spun to race back home, only to see another timber-wolf standing there, growling.

They had taken off into the forest to their right. Moments later, a crash from in front of them had revealed another timber-wolf.

Which was how they had been treed by four timber-wolves.

“Aw, horsefeathers!” said Apple Bloom. She looked around them at the other trees. “Ah can see the edge of the Everfree, right over thar!” She pointed with a hoof and slipped. She grabbed her branch with all four limbs. “Whoa!”

One of the timber-wolves moved from below Harry to stand below Apple Bloom, sappy saliva dripping from its snout.

Harry sighed. Just like being chased by Dudley. Only with magical creatures. With magic. Magic. Magic! He studied the branches around them. Just below him, to his right, was another big branch. He didn’t know any cutting spells, yet — he was still working on levitating things — but maybe Sweetie Belle did from helping her sister. “Hey, Sweetie Belle,” he called up to her and explained what he wanted to try.

It didn’t work, at first. She had to use the spell almost a dozen times while he tried to hold the end of the branch pulled slightly towards himself. Soon enough, though, there was a loud CRACK and the weight of the branch tore it from the tree trunk. Harry’s hold, of course, failed almost immediately. But it held just long enough to swing the branch in his direction as it plummeted down and onto the head of the timber-wolf under his branch. There was a loud SMASH and THUD. The front half of the timber-wolf was crushed under the branch. As he watched, the back half simply fell apart into sticks and leaves.

Apple Bloom leaned up against another branch as the colt and filly went to work on the branch she was standing on. Just as she noticed it starting to sink, she jumped to the new branch, and broke the other free. It squashed the wolf under her quite nicely.

Unfortunately, the other two wolves moved away from their tree and sat nearby. But not too unfortunate, however, as Harry and Sweetie Belle transferred their actions to the tree the two wolves were sitting under. A sturdy branch did the job, smashing one timber-wolf and trapping or crippling the other.

“Um, Harry?” said Apple Bloom. “That first timber-wolf is almost back.”

Harry looked. Terrifyingly, beside the first branch they had sent down, he could see the crude form of a wolf slowly bulking up.

They scrambled down and headed for the Orchard as fast as they could. Just as they reached the edge they could hear the howl of a frustrated wolf echoing out of the forest.

They didn’t stop running until they reached the farm house. They stood there, sides heaving. “Aw, horsefeathers,” said Apple Bloom. The others looked at her curiously. She was rubbing her fore-hoof against her side. She looked back up and said, “Sap.” The other three groaned and started checking themselves out.

Apple Bloom’s sour answer of, “Crusading,” somehow managed to deflect her sister’s question about their afternoon escapade. They didn’t have to explain why they were in the Everfree forest. Apparently, Applejack and Big Mac assumed the White Tail Woods beside the lake was the source of their sappiness.

It was at lunch time the next day that Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon came over again. She had been harassing the Harry and Cutie Mark Crusaders for several weeks now. “Well, blank-flanks, what’re you going to do to get in trouble today?” She ignored Harry, speaking to Scootaloo, the one most likely to lose her temper.

She had learned that trying to torment Harry wasn’t worth the effort. He never responded, he just stared at her. She would have said he wasn’t very smart, but his arithmetic and Ponyish skills made that impossible. That and the fact that the way he just stared at her made her uneasy. And he was so small. She always felt like she was talking to a foal when she talked to him.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, but before she could more than open her mouth, Harry said, “Are you soo insecure in your own self-worth that the only way you can feel good about yourself is to put down others over things they have no control over?”

Tiara, and her friend Silver Spoon, just stared at him. That he talked more like an adult than any of them, despite his resemblance to a much younger foal, was oddly disturbing.

“Sure, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and myself don’t have our Cutie Marks yet, but who cares, really? Look at all the fun things we do trying to find our Marks while you just sit around, bored, doing nothing truly interesting because you already have a Cutie Mark.

“Where’s the excitement in your life? Have you ever tried taffy making, hairdressing, mountain climbing, or underwater exploring? Have you ever put on your own talent show?

“We did. We even built the pony-pitcher and filly-flinger that you’ve had so much fun with these last two weeks. What have you done? As far as I can tell, nothing. Except maybe a few dozen tea-parties with Silver Spoon.

“If being a blank flank, as you so dismissively call us, lets us have so much fun, then I would rather remain a blank flank. And today, we’re going to see how sofas are made. Maybe that’s the talent for one of us. We don’t know, but we’ll have fun trying. What will you do for fun after school? Have yet another tea party?”

Harry stopped and resumed his stare. He had learned long ago that the best defence against bullies was to ignore them, to not react to what they did unless they went to violence. And his steady blank stare always unsettled them. It had even worked on Dudley — sometimes.

The fillies stared at him wide-eyed

“Well, I never!” Tiara said, at a loss for what to say, and just saying what her mother said when she was surprised by another’s response, Harry assumed.

The colt nodded. “And that’s why we have more fun than you do. Because you never.”

“Hmmph!” she hmmphed, turning to walk away.

The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and the end of the confrontation. If it could be called that.

They started towards the door, letting the unhappy Tiara and friend get ahead of them.

“We’re going to make a sofa?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Eh,” said Harry, “Sorry about that.” He shook his head. He would have rubbed his neck if they weren’t walking. “It was the first thing I thought of,” he pointed with his nose at Ponyville. Barely visible in the distance behind where Tiara had been standing during their encounter, they could see the vague outline of the Quills and Sofas shop.

Scootaloo laughed. “Well, why not?” she said happily.

Harry had to admit later, as they walked into Quills and Sofas after school, that he would never have thought the two went together, but seeing all the pillows and cushions proudly displayed with signs that read “Made from the finest down feathers” explained it. After all if you’re collecting feathers for sofa cushions and pillows, it’s not unlikely you would get a few big ones as well. Using the big ones to make quills was simply another way to turn a discard into profit.

“Welcome!” said a voice from the back of the shop accompanied by the clip-clop of someone hurrying in their direction. “Good afternoon! I’m Davenport, the proprietor of this establishment. What can I . . . do . . . for . . . you,” his voice trailed off as he caught sight of them. He did not look happy. His eyes narrowed and he stared at them nervously. “What do you want?”he said flatly, their reputation clearly in mind.

“Hi!” said Scootaloo excitedly, “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!”

“Yes,” said the Earth pony, looking even more nervous and taking a step backwards as if afraid he might catch a disease. Or thought he was inside collateral damage range.

“I see our reputation precedes us,” Harry said dryly. He cleared his throat. “We were wondering if you could show us how sofas and quills are made?”

The pony sighed in resignation.

“Wow!” said Apple Bloom, “This is really springy!” She was using a nearby sofa as a trampoline. Sweetie Belle was looking under the cushions of another one. Scootaloo was . . . somewhere.

Harry placed his hoof over his eyes. “Girls!” he said sharply, “Focus!”

There was a crash from the back room, followed immediately by Scootaloo’s voice, “I’m alright!”

Davenport wheeled and ran into his backroom, Harry and the other two fillies on his heels.

He lifted the errant filly out of the sofa frame that was on the floor and now slightly twisted.

Harry looked around the room. It was much larger than he had expected. There was a tablesaw, jigsaw, and sander — all hoof-powered — against the wall, with various hoof-tools racked on the wall above them. On the opposite wall were racks of cloth and a large sewing table. At the back were several sofas in various stages of completion.

The next half-hour was difficult for the poor shopkeeper as he tried to explain how he created his custom sofas. Apple Bloom got trapped in the pulleys under the tablesaw. Sweetie Belle got tied up in the threads under the hoof-powered sewing machine — she was trying to figure out how the machine did what she and her sister used magic to do. And Scootaloo, somehow, got stuck inside an almost completed sofa.

“Sorry about your sofa, Mr. Davenport,” Scootaloo said as he escorted them to his front door.

“That’s alright,” the pony said with a pained expression, “That sofa needed a new backing, anyway. And it should only take an hour or so to untangle the sewing machine threads.”

“Sorry,” said Sweetie Belle, blushing.”

“And the belts on that saw were getting worn anyway.”

Apple Bloom said nothing, but her bright red face said it all.

Just as the fillies were going out the door, Harry stopped. “Excuse me, Mr. Davenport, but do you make sofa beds, too? I didn’t see any.” Such a thing would be useful at Twilight’s place.

The shopkeeper stared at him. “Sofa . . . beds?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “You know, a sofa that folds out into a bed? They’re great for unexpected guests or small rooms.”

“Folds out?” said the proprietor as he sat on his haunches.

Harry frowned. “Have you ever heard of a futon? That’s the simplest one.”

The stallion shook his head.

Harry stepped outside and started to draw angled lines in the dirt beside the porch. “These wooden pieces are the back of the futon, about a hoof apart. They attach to these horizontal pieces with a rod through their ends as a hinge.” He drew some horizontal lines interspaced with the bottoms of the angled ones. “The frame holds them up.” He sketched a couple of other lines.

“The important part is here at the sides where the hinge meets the frame.” He pointed with a fore-hoof. “It slides back and forth and lets the seat slide forward and the back to slide forward while dropping level.” He stepped over and drew another sketch of a bed where the former sofa arms were now a very short headboard and tailboard at each end of a flat ribbed bed.

“The mattress on it is just a giant cushion that folds and doubles as the seat and back when it’s a sofa.” He grinned up at the pony. “The back moving forward means it can be close to a wall and still fold into a bed without having to move it. No wasted space that way.”

“There’s another kind, usually with a metal frame, that fits inside a normal sofa. It folds into thirds where one third slides up behind the back and the other two thirds fold together and fit under the seat cushions. It usually has a thin mattress that folds away with the bed part. Most people can’t tell it’s a bed until you unfold it!” Harry finished. That was what the Dursleys had in the sitting-room — not that they ever used it.

The fillies were staring at him, as was the shopkeeper.

“That’s brilliant!” the pony whispered. “Show me!” He hustled them back inside, stopping to put a closed sign on the door.

Harry winced as he heard another crash from the storage room. “I’m alright!” came Apple Bloom’s voice. He looked around the workshop and shuddered. Feathers covered the entire floor like a multi-colored field of snow. Muffled sounds from the sewing table, and the two hooves sticking out of opposite corners of a lumpy cushion revealed that Sweetie Belle had managed to sew herself inside it with the sewing machine and was currently trying to escape. And Scootaloo . . . Scootaloo looked to be building a large ballista out of scrap wood, metal braces, and cloth.

The back-room was a shambles, but the shopkeeper didn’t seem to care. He hadn’t even flinched at the latest crash. He stared at the working table-top models of a futon and a sofa bed, gently converting them from couch to bed and back, repeatedly.

“These are brilliant!” he whispered. He looked at Harry. “You have revolutionized the sofa industry, my colt!”

Harry blushed. “But back where I used to live everyone knows about these things, so they aren’t my idea.”

The pony stared at him steadily. “But in all of Equestria, no one else has ever seen or thought of these. I thank you for bringing them to me.” He blinked and looked around his workroom. “Oh, dear,” he said, surprised at what he saw. Sweetie Belle had managed to get her head out of the cushion and was looking around before embarking on getting the rest of the way out.

There was a yelp from Scootaloo as her project tipped over and disintegrated with a bang,and a loud thunk from across the room. The numerous pieces went skittering across the floor. Apple Bloom came out of the storeroom, checking to see what the noise was. A sliding sound and thud of something heavy hitting the floor behind her followed her out. Sweetie Belle looked up at the thin wooden rod, that hadn’t been there a minute ago, now protruding from the wall a few inches over her head.

Harry sighed. “I think we should head home now, girls, it’s almost dinner time.”

Scootaloo tried to look innocent as she nonchalantly stepped away from the remains of her afternoon’s activity. “Um, yeah, I think you’re right, Harry.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Apple Bloom, looking out the new rough-edged window between the work-room and the shop’s front display room. The long shadows visible through the outside windows clearly indicated the lateness of the hour.

“A little help, here?” said Sweetie Belle testily, flopping onto the floor with a thud and an, “Ow!”

Davenport sighed sadly.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, “I should have kept a closer watch on them.” He looked up at the stallion worriedly.

The pony gave him a half-hearted smile as he surveyed the wreckage that remained of his nice and neat workroom. “That’s alright,” he said, his tone faltering. He took a deep breath and looked at his two table-top models. His smile became a bit more genuine, “I think, all-in-all, it’s a more than fair trade.”

“This is a great idea, Harry!” Sweetie Belle said.

“Cutie Mark Crusader Honey Harvesters! YAY!” they all cried out.

It was the day after their foray into sofa-making and not too long after school let out.

They stood beside an old lightning-struck tree across the path from Sweet Apple Acres. One side and the canopy above were covered in the green leaves of a healthy tree while a large section just below the lowest branch was the weathered light-brown of dead wood. Bees flew in and out of a large opening in that section.

“Now, the book I read in the library,” Harry explained, “said we should use a smoky torch to soothe the bees before we try to get any honey combs out.” He held up a wooden stick wrapped in rags. “So we need to wait a few minutes before doing anything. Is everything set?” He looked over to Scootaloo’s scooter and cart. The cart held a small barrel that could hold about ten gallons of liquid. It was an old cider cask that they had borrowed for this. Applejack wouldn’t mind once they brought it back full of honey.

Nodding, he concentrated and soon a small flame appeared on the rags. As soon as it was going, he lifted the torch in his magic and held it in front of the opening. The old oily rags performed as they should and smoke enveloped that section of the tree.

For about one minute . . . then the rags fell off the stick and burnt to ash slightly before or after they hit the ground. This left Harry holding up a stick with a slightly charred tip. The bees did not seem all that soothed, either.

“Well damn,” said Harry, dropping the stick.

They stared at the stick for a moment.

“How about we start a fire here and put green leaves on it to make smoke?” suggested Apple Bloom. “That’s what mah sister does when dealing with a wasps’ nest in the barn.”

Soon they had a respectable little fire going about ten feet from the tree. The leaves, when added, made a nice thick white smoke that the wind blew straight over the hole in the tree. “Yay!” cheered Scootaloo. Then the wind changed direction to the left, making the smoke miss the tree to the right. “Awww,” they all said.

But they added some wood to the left of their fire, added more leaves, and soon the smoke was once more enveloping the bee hive entrance.

Until the wind shifted again.

Soon, they had a smouldering ring of fire around the tree with a plume of smoke that covered the right spot no matter what the wind’s direction.

After ten minutes, they kicked a hole through the ring, downwind of the bee hive entrance, and went closer, bringing the barrel with them. Apple Bloom planted her hooves firmly. Sweetie Belle climbed onto Apple Bloom’s back. Then Scootaloo hopped-flew onto Sweetie Belle’s back. And Harry finally climbed up to the top.

From his new vantage point he could easily see into the hive and used his levitation magic to separate and lift out a honey comb. Sweetie Belle gently swept the comb with her magic, shooing the bees off, and leaving the honey. Harry carefully kept the honey from dripping off as he lowered the comb into the small barrel.

They did this until Sweetie Belle called out, “That’s it! The barrel is full!”

“Aww,” said Harry, “There’s plenty left inside, I can feel it with my magic.”

“Well,” Apple Bloom interjected, “We want to make sure the hive has plenty for the winter.”

Harry, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo jumped down and started to kick dirt over the smouldering ring of fire. After she put a lid on the barrel, Apple Bloom joined them. Harry and Scootaloo went one direction while the other two fillies went the other direction. The unicorns pulled the fire apart while their partners kicked dirt over it to put it out.

It was only when they reached the section closest to the forest that they discovered a flaw in their afternoon’s plan.

“Ooops,” said Harry, staring at the line of fire leading into the forest and rapidly spreading on the dead branches and dry debris liberally littering the forest floor.

“Ah think maybe a dead branch was under that part of arr smoke ring,” said Apple Bloom.

They watched as the fire spread to the base of a fourth tree.

“I once heard a telly show,” Harry said, “that said fires are an important part of keeping a forest healthy. That they burn the debris of broken branches, leaves, and fallen trees and restore nutrients to the soil. That the fire creates more open spaces for new trees by burning up dead or diseased trees. And that there are even some trees whose seeds won’t start growing until after a fire passes through. And that unless there’s a drought, the healthy trees easily survive.” The nearest tree’s leaves suddenly went up in flames, the tree turning into a giant torch, the heat triggering a second tree into becoming fully involved in flames.

The fillies didn’t say anything, mesmerized.

“Ah think Ah need to tell mah sister about this,” said Apple Bloom nervously.

“And maybe the guards?” suggested Sweetie Belle in an equally unsteady voice..

They slowly started backing to the honey barrel, intending to grab it and run.

“Definitely the fire brigade,” said Harry.

Apparently, some of the roots of the bee tree had also been close to the surface at their fire ring. As a result, those now charcoaled roots were no longer doing their job. There was a loud crack and the tree began to tilt, the dead section beginning to split and honey pour out.

“Run!” yelled Harry. Before they could take more than a few steps, though, the dead section of the tree fell to the ground with a huge THUMP. It landed right on their barrel, crushing it and splashing them liberally with a mixture of sap and honey.

The bees were enraged, and headed for the four foals.

Scootaloo hopped on her scooter and started towards the Apple farmhouse, the other three right on her tail. She hadn’t gone five feet before Apple Bloom passed her at a dead run. “I am soo grounded,” they heard her moan as she quickly took the lead.

Harry, behind the others, shouted, “I’ll head for the town hall. Sweetie Belle, head for the Fire Department. Scootaloo, get Twilight!” Apple Bloom was already headed for the farmhouse to warn her family. The other three took off in slightly different directions at a full gallop.

Harry didn’t notice the queen bee clinging to his mane. Nor the swarm that followed him — and only him.

Dear Celestia,

I tried your suggestion of grounding Harry (see updated notes on the Everfree Forest fire and subsequent bee infestation of the Town Hall) by restricting him to the library and letting him read only his textbooks. It didn’t work. He thanked me for the additional time he could practice his magic without being interrupted. (Apparently the Cutie Mark Crusaders were distracting him a bit from his magical studies, in his opinion.)

Any other suggestions?

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle.

Part II – The Prodigal Son Returns — Ch. 13 — The Sap is Running

Author's Notes:

Some information on why ponies are the way they are in this story: An Informed Guide to the Reality of Ponies.

The four of them were lying down, with three made a rough triangle. Apple Bloom had dropped down onto her left side. Harry was nestled between her legs on his left side with his head facing hers and using her barrel as a pillow. Scootaloo, in turn, was lying on her left side with her legs curled up and her head pillowed on Harry facing his head. Apple Bloom was using Scootaloo as a pillow, and, naturally, facing her head. Sweetie Belle, not to be left out, was behind Apple Bloom with her head between Harry’s and Apple Bloom’s.

It was a comfortable position for them, keeping their heads close together for talking while still letting each use another as a pillow. Settling into a square arrangement didn’t work nearly as well. They had discovered this arrangement during an overnight sleepover at the clubhouse the previous summer. With a careful placement of blankets, it was actually quite comfortable. Unfortunately, they didn’t have blankets this morning, either over them or under.

Not that they needed blankets. The grass was soft, if a bit damp. It was a late mid-summer day and already the temperature was climbing into the uncomfortable range. Which was why they were lying down in the shade. The bugs were buzzing over the field and the smell of green grass, apples, and rich fertile soil permeated the air. They had already snuck a few snacks off the flowers dotting the orchard.

They had just finished with their morning exercises — they were in training for the Fall Running of the Leaves to try to get their Cutie Marks in running races. Scootaloo had convinced them to start training now, in the middle of summer, because Rainbow Dash had told her, “Ya gotta train months in advance for something like that if you wanna really win it! Starting out training just a few weeks ahead, like most ponies do, simply isn’t enough time to build the stamina or speed you need.”

Hence, their recent every-other-day training schedule. At the moment, they were rather quiet, except for heavy breathing, as they recovered from their wind sprints around the orchard and regained their energy.

Harry sighed contentedly. He’d been here in this strange land for over a year now. A year, two months, and six days, to be precise, if he were inclined to keep count. And next week would mark his eleventh birthday. He closed his eyes and drowsed. He felt safe. And he was with friends. Friends he couldn’t imagine being without.

He had been a stranger. He had talked weird. He hadn’t known anything that they considered normal. And yet, they had accepted him. And made him their friend, when he hadn’t been sure what that word meant.

They meant everything to him.

Oh, they argued. They fought. They had disagreements and didn’t speak to each other for days at a time. But they always forgave each other. And fought for each other. For the girls, the old slogan “One for all, and all for one!” had been their motto. And it was his, now.

The fillies had even declared him a part of their herd! He still wasn’t sure what that meant except it that they seemed to stay together no matter what happened, and that they stuck up for one another without fail.

He had asked Twilight what it meant to be in a herd and she had blushed and started to stutter before telling him, “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Harry. I’ll explain it all later when you’re older.” He had decided it must not be important and dropped the matter. All he knew is that the girls were very happy when he had agreed.

Apple Bloom felt a faint plip as something tiny hit her head. She looked around but didn’t see anything. A few minutes later there was another little plip near her tail. A second glance revealed nothing. She frowned. “Is anypony else getting dive-bombed by bugs?”

“Hmm?” “What?” and “Bugs?” where the answers she got.

As in any orchard or pasture, there were bugs aplenty flying around — butterflies, grasshoppers, ants bumble bees, lady bugs, and so forth. Usually centred on the flowers and trees. Considering that, her comment was a bit puzzling.

“Well,” she said, “it feels like Ah’m being hit by bugs.”

They all looked around and up. Harry was the first to see the drop falling and hitting Sweetie Belle’s mane. “It’s probably just dew from overnight dripping down,” he suggested. “See,” he said, pointing with his right hoof.

“It’s too late in the morning for that, Harry,” Apple Bloom said. “All the dew has dried up.”

He stared and noticed that the branch the drop came from seemed to be broken. He glanced around at the other branches and quickly noticed that there seemed to be a fair number of broken ones in sight, making the tree appear a bit lopsided. He could see where a large branch had snapped off, its jagged end shining in the light. He looked around at the other trees.

“Hey, Apple Bloom,” he said casually, “doesn’t this tree look like the one that lost that big branch last week in the thunderstorm?”

“What? You mean that biggun’ that we spent most of Saturday morning gathering the downed sticks and branches for the kitchen wood stove?”

“Yeah, remember, there was that one tree with the big branch down that we both had to work at dragging? And that it broke off a bunch of other branches when it fell?”

She looked around and narrowed her eyes in thought. “Yeah, Ah think yer right. This is that tree.”

Harry looked up just in time for drop to hit him right on the nose. He went cross-eyed trying to look at it before rubbing his muzzle with a hoof. It was rather sticky, he discovered. “Uh, oh,” he said quietly. He studied the branches overhead and after several minutes he could see a myriad of broken branches, each of which seemed to have a little gleam at the tip.

“Hey, Apple Bloom? How long does it take a tree to stop sending sap to a broken branch?”

“Ah dunno, a season or two, maybe a year.”

She jolted slightly as drop of sap hit her ear.

Her eyes widened, then shrunk to pin points. “No!” she half-whispered, as she began to realize what he was suggesting. She looked up at the branches overhead and quickly noted just how many broken branches there were, and that each one had a drop of sap about to fall. She looked down at the grass around them and noted how it was a slightly darker colour than the grass on the other side of the tree. “NO!” she said, louder, and started to get to her hooves.

“Hey!” “What’s going on?” came from the other two fillies as they were forced to get up as well. Harry was silent getting up, already suspecting what Apple Bloom had discovered.

“No! No! NO!” Apple Bloom shouted, stomping a hoof as she looked at her left side, now liberally decorated with grass glued in place on her fur by the sap that had been falling and coating the grass ever since last Friday.

“It’s not fair!” she shouted. The other fillies were only just now realizing what had happened as they, too, surveyed their grassy sides. “We weren’t even doing nothing with trees and now we’re covered in tree sap. It’s not fair!” She stomped her hoof in frustration.

“Ah, ponyfeathers!” Scootaloo shouted as she scrambled out from under the apple tree. “I hate tree sap!” The others were right beside her doing their own complaining. They had had far, far too much experience with just how difficult it was to get tree sap out of their fur.

“I got the last traces of sap outta my fur just the day before yesterday!” Sweetie Belle complained.

Harry nodded, they had not had a good ending to their attempt to get a Survivalist Cutie Mark in the Whitetail Woods over by the lake. Sap everywhere! Harry was sure that there was sap still stuck in his right ear. Or was it his left ear? At least it wasn’t under his tail!

And now, here they were, not even on one of their Cutie Mark adventures — they were preparing for a Cutie Mark adventure, true, but nothing to do with trees, yet — and already liberally coated in tree sap. Harry sighed, looking at his left side, now green with grass glued in place by the tree sap he had unknowingly laid down in under the tree. He looked over at where they had been resting and it was clear to see the giant damp spot that was the area the tree sap had soaked since last Friday. And the now relatively grassless blobby area where they had been lying down.

The fillies were in not better condition. It was going to take at least a couple of hours of shampooing to get all the sap out of their fur. Not the most fun way to spend the rest of the morning.

He was about to suggest that they might as well get started when Scootaloo said, “Hey, look at that bird.”

He looked at her and then looked over towards the Everfree forest where she was pointing. She was right, there was a bird flying along the edge of the woods. And it had to be a big bird considering how far they were from the Everfree. No, he decided, it wasn’t really flying along the edge, it was headed for them. He stared for a moment and then started to get tense. That was an awfully big bird. As it got closer he saw that it was very big. It was at least half again as big as Owlowiscious, if not bigger. And he had seen Owlowiscious pick up the Twilight’s assistant dragon, Spike, who was just a bit bigger than he was.

And it was headed for them.

“Uh, girls,” he said nervously, “Why is it heading for us?”

“Maybe it has a nest in this tree?” hazarded a guess from Apple Bloom.

“Perhaps,” said Sweetie Belle staring at the bird as she started walking away from the tree. The other three were getting just as uneasy and they all quickly followed her. Looking to the side as he followed the fillies, Harry noted that the bird was a medium brown with white spots, and white upperparts. “But I didn’t see a nest when we were picking up branches last Saturday,” she finished.

The bird angled towards them. “Ah don’t think she has nest here,” Apple Bloom said unsteadily. They started trotting away. The bird changed its flight again to head towards them. They started running. The bird started flapping its wings and changing its direction to catch them. Harry looked back and saw the bird looking right at him. The bird was definitely interested in them. They’d never be able to outrun the bird and eventually one of them would get hurt. He couldn’t let them get hurt, not after what they had done for him.

He yelled, “AHHHHHH . . . ,” as loud as he could and suddenly cut to his right away from the fillies and galloped for a nearby tree.

The bird sharply changed direction and flew towards him.

Harry began galloping faster, still yelling, “. . . AHHHHHHHHHHHH . . .”

The three fillies slowed down, then stopped and watched. Harry now was running figure-eights around two trees trying to evade the bird.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Wow. For such a little bugger, he’s fast!” Scootaloo said admiringly, “Wonder why he’s always so slow when we’re practicing for the Running of the Leaves?”

“. . . aaaaahhhhhHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhHHHHHH . . .”

“And quick, did ya see that switch-back he jes did?” said Apple Bloom.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“I never knew he could scream that loud,” said Sweetie Belle.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“He sure sounds funny the way his voice gets louder and fainter as he runs around those trees.”

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Powerful lungs he’s got there — has he even taken a breath yet?”

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

Sweetie Belle frowned. “You know, I don’t think he could do a better job of keeping that bird’s attention if he tried, yelling and running like that,” she said thoughtfully.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Do ya think he’s doing it on purpose?”

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Don’t know. And I don’t think that bird’s actually trying to attack him, either. It’s just sorta following him.” They watched as the bird alternately flapped its wings and glided elegantly in Harry’s wake.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“I think that’s an owl,” said Sweetie Belle. “Owls don’t eat things bigger than they are. They won’t even attack unless they’re defending their nest.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Hmm, Ah think yer right Sweetie Belle.”

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

Harry was now running in circles around one tree, trying to keep the tree between him and the owl.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Ya know, it’s kinda hard to tell if the owl’s chasing him or he’s chasing the owl, now.”

“Yep,” agreed Apple Bloom. “Any moment now he’s gonna realize he’s about to catch up to the owl rather than the owl catching up to him.”

The owl heard Harry behind it and did a quick U-turn to fly at the running colt.

“. . . AHHHHHH . . . .” Harry saw the owl headed straight at him, slid to a halt, spun around, and started galloping straight down the orchard, weaving in and around the trees, his voice fading the farther away he went, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” Just as they lost sight of him behind a distant tree there came the faint POP came of his teleporting away. The owl circled the tree for a minute hooting madly in the distance.

“I was wondering when he would remember he could do that,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Ah’ve never heard an owl curse before,” says Apple Bloom, “but Ah swear that thar owl is cussing up a storm right now.”

The hooting began to fade away as the owl headed in the direction of Apple Bloom’s home.

Apple Bloom sighed, “Come on, fillies, we’d better hurry. Who knows what trouble Harry is going to get into if we’re not there.” She then took off running after the owl with the other two rapidly following her lead.

Harry arrived at the Apple farmhouse midway between the house and barn. He immediately started yelling, “AJ, AJ, AJ, AJ, there’s a giant bird after me!” He ran in circles as he couldn’t decide whether to run to the barn or the house first. “AJ, AJ, AJ, AJ, there’s a giant bird after me!”

Applejack came hurrying out of the barn, “What in tarnation are you yammering about?”

“Oh, thank god,” said Harry, charging towards her. “I was worried that you might be off in the orchards somewhere.”

Applejack sighed, “So what’s this about a big bird?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Harry exclaimed, hopping in place. “The girls and I were over in the West Orchard resting,” Harry stood on his back legs and started hopping up and down while he pointed toward where he had just been, “. . . after practicing our wind sprints so we can be ready to get our Cutie Marks in racing at the Running of the Leaves this fall when we discovered the tree we were lying under had dripped sap all over the grass and we were covered in sap and grass . . . .” He pointed at his grassless side, getting a puzzled look from Applejack, “. . . when Scootaloo saw this big bird flying along the path between the orchard and the Everfree, and then it started flying towards us so we started running and the bird started following us so I ran away from the girls towards a tree and the bird followed me and wouldn’t stop so I started running here and then I remembered I could teleport so I teleported here to tell you about the bird!” Harry was starting to turn blue.

Applejack sighed, shaking her head, “Breathe, Harry, breathe!” She put a hoof on his head to stop his hopping.

As he did so, though, he looked off towards the West Orchard where he was pointing and saw the distant bird flying towards them. He took a deep breath. “AHHHHHH, there it is now,” he yelled. He spun on the spot, dropped to all fours, and dashed into the house.

As soon as he was inside he slammed the door shut and latched it. Then he ran into the sitting room. He ran to the couch and pushed it into the short entryway to block the door. That accomplished, he ran into the kitchen. He dodged around a surprised Granny Smith, and made sure the kitchen door was shut. He darted back to the table and, straining, pushed the huge dinner table — it was big enough to seat half a dozen adult ponies, after all — to block that door as well.

He stepped back, panting, and surveyed his work. He saw Applejack walk up onto the back porch. She stick her head into the kitchen through the open window to the right of the kitchen door.

“Harry,” she said, calmly, “What are yeh doing?”

“Making sure that that big bird can’t get to me in the house.”

A large brown bird with white spots flew in the open window on the other side of the kitchen door and landed on the kitchen counter.

Applejack sighed. “That bird?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Granny Smith was looking around confused, “What in tarnation is going on here?”

Harry peeked out from under the seating-cushion he was hiding under — he was nothing if not quick — and up at the bird. The bird was staring right back at him, with the air of someone who is very exasperated. Harry frequently saw that same look on Applejack’s face when she was talking about or to any of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. If the bird could have managed it, it would have been face-palming, Harry somehow knew.

Now that it was closer he could see details he had missed earlier. The face was pale with yellow eyes. It looked like it had short ears, but those were probably just feathers sticking out. He realized it was a giant tufted owl — Cheerilee had had a whole lesson on the owls native to Equestria, but none were this big. “Yep,” he said decisively, “That’s the bird.” He ducked back under the seating cushion. If its eyes could have moved, the owl would have rolled them. Instead, the owl merely huffed and clacked his beak in annoyance.

In the quiet moment that followed Harry could hear the hoofbeats of his three friends dashing into the barnyard and up onto the front porch. Almost instantly there followed three loud thuds as the hurrying fillies tried and failed to open the barricaded front door. Three “Ow’s” came around the side of the house.

Applejack hung her head down, shaking it, and sighed. She pulled her head outside and bellowed, “We’re around here by the kitchen door!” She poked her head back through the window to look at the owl.

Harry could hear the pounding of their hooves as the fillies rushed around the house. There was a thud, and an “Ow,” as the first one to the back door bounced off it as it refused to open. Shortly, his three best friends were propped up on the ledge of the window the bird had used to enter the kitchen.

“There’s Harry,” said Apple Bloom, pointing with a hoof.

“There’s the bird,” said Sweetie Belle, pointing with a hoof.

“Hi, Granny Smith,” said Scootaloo, waving a hoof energetically.

The aged Granny Smith shakily walked over to the bird and examined it. “My, my, this here bird is quite friendly. Ah’d wager he’s no wild owl.” She grinned at him as he stared back at her. “Are you boy?” She tilted her head slightly and looked at the owl’s feet. “And looky here,” she pointed with one hoof, nearly tipping over, “there’s some sort of paper tied to his leg!” The small paper looked somewhat like an envelope. It was held to the owl’s leg by a ribbon tied in a bow.

She moved her hoof closer to that leg. The owl hopped a short distance farther away, hooted sharply, and turned so that the leg with the paper was away from the old mare. The letter was not for her. He glared at the old mare.

“Well!” the old pony said, “There’s no reason to be rude!”

The owl hooted again.

“Well, still, manners!” she replied, scolding the owl.

The owl hooted softly.

“Very well,” she said, “I accept your apology.”

The others stared at the two for a moment.

“It’s not wild?” said Harry.

“He’s someone’s pet?” said Sweetie Belle.

“Yeh kin understand him?” said Apple Bloom.

“That is soo cool, Granny Smith!” Scootaloo said admiringly.

“Thar’s a paper tied to his leg?” said Applejack. She frowned. “Harry, yeh get over here and push this table back where it belongs.”

Harry sighed, and climbed out from underneath his sanctuary cushion. Keeping a wary eye on the owl, he walked over to the table. Pushing it back in place when he wasn’t jazzed up on running away was much more difficult. He also couldn’t get properly behind the table to push. He had to push one of the legs instead.

“Hey!” said Scootaloo, “What’re you doin’?”

“It’ll take Harry forever to move that thar table, Ah’m gonna help him. So help me climb in this here window!” ordered Apple Bloom.

A moment later, Harry heard a thud as she fell into the kitchen. He looked over at the filly on the floor beside him. She let out a heartfelt, “Ow!” Then, “I said help me climb through the window, not throw me through the window like a brick, you brats!” He saw Applejack, meanwhile, face-hoofing. The other two girls were on the porch giggling.

It was a concerted effort but soon the table was back where it belonged and the kitchen door opened. Almost immediately the other two fillies trotted in, followed more sedately by Applejack, still shaking her head at the fillies and colt.

“Sit!” Applejack ordered Harry, pointing at his seating-cushion. She glanced at the other three, “You, too.”

Harry had no sooner sat on the oversized cushion he had been hiding under than the owl flapped its wings a few times and flew from the counter to the table-top. It balanced on one leg while holding the other out to Harry. Harry glared at the owl.

Applejack chuckled, “Ah guess that means that paper is for you. And maybe that was why the owl was chasing yeh!” She shook her head at the silliness of young colts and fillies.

Hesitantly, with many a cautious look at the owl’s sharp beak, Harry reached out with his hooves and pulled one of the loose ends of the bow securing whatever it was to the owl’s leg. The paper dropped to the table-top and immediately started growing larger. They all sat back in surprise to see a large envelope now lying on the table. Harry was even more surprised to see that the envelope had very fancy writing on it, and it had his full name. He had never mentioned to anypony what his middle name was, that he could remember. Written on the envelope was:

.

“Harry James Potter,

Sweet Apple Acres,

The Fifth Bedroom on the Second Floor,

Ponyville, Equestria, Equus.”

14 — A Secret Exposed

Harry stared at the envelope after reading the address on it out loud, “That’s rather specific, isn’t it?” He looked up at Applejack worriedly.

His home was with Twilight, at the castle, unless she was off on a mission somewhere. Last night, though, he had been staying at the Apple homestead with the other Cutie Mark Crusaders. They had wanted to get an early start on their morning training so they would have the rest of the day for other crusading.

“Yes,” she murmured, frowning at the owl, “it is at that.”

“Well,” interrupted Scootaloo, “What are you waitin’ for, open it! It’s not every day you get a letter, you know.” She paused and frowned. “You know, I don’t think any of us have ever gotten a letter before, except you.” She grinned broadly, “So hurry up and open it!”

Harry flipped the envelope over and stared a moment at the wax seal. It had a fancy shield with a lion, snake, a four legged animal, and a bird in a square formation around the letter “H”. Underneath the shield was a little banner that had what he swore was Latin written underneath it. Was this a letter from his old home world? If it was, then this was a rather old-fashioned method of sealing a letter, he knew. He might have thought this was a letter from somewhere in Equestria, but the use of an owl threw doubt on that idea rather quickly. Equestrians used a postmare to deliver their post. Or magic.

He carefully broke the wax and shook out the papers inside, which unfolded themselves to lie flat the moment they hit the table. He stared at them uncomprehendingly for several moments, then started reading them aloud, with some stumbling over unfamiliar words and abbreviations.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The second page read:

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

He carefully laid the two pages side by side and studied them. He ignored the comments from the others around the table.

This letter was from home. Not the Dursleys, they weren’t home, but from somewhere in England. How the heck had that owl managed to find its way here? Did it use his portal? Did it use another portal? Or did the owls have a special way of traveling that allowed this one to find him here in this pony world?

The letter may have been from where he used to live, but it made no sense to him whatsoever. Why in god’s name would first-year students bring brooms to the school? Didn’t the kids think the school would have brooms for cleaning their rooms?

And thinking about what these two pages might mean brought back many feelings he had thought long buried about the Dursleys. He started shivering slightly. Bad memories. They had lied to him ever since he had been foisted off on them — foisted, their word, not his. They had claimed they were his relatives, but they had treated him as a lower form of life. One not deserving of love, respect, or even common decency.

They had said that magic didn’t exist, and yet he now knew that, too, had been a lie. He thought he had put all that behind him. He was invested in staying here, where he had love, respect, friends, and was treated just like everypony else. And, yeah, sure, dangerous things happened here like the Ursa Minor, Discord, Tirek, and a host of others, but they threatened everypony. He was just one of the crowd. He was just like everypony else. He was normal! Well, except for being on the small size.

And now, this letter.

Magic was real back there. So real that they had schools to teach it.

On the other hoof, maybe he was mistaken. Maybe there was a magic school here in Equestria, other than Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, that is. A school that used wands instead of horns. And claimed it was from England. Could there be an Equestrian island named England?

And actually told students to purchase gloves made out of dragon-hide — no pony would ever dream of killing an animal simply for using its skin for clothing! Not to mention those names were nothing any self-respecting pony parent would give a foal! Although, in a weird way, the books’ names did make puns with the authors’ names — it was almost Ponyish in a twisted manner.

So, definitely not Equestrian in origin. He snorted softly to himself. Well, he would have to ask Twilight to be sure. She would know. And she would tell the Princesses that there was a way to go between the two worlds, as the owl proved.

He had thought that was taken care of with a Pinkie Promise between the Cutie Mark Crusaders to reveal nothing about the portal. This sorta made that promise useless.

He sighed, heavily, and thought. I'm gonna have to tell Twilight about this.

“Yer right, Harry. We should definitely talk with Twilight about this.”

He looked up at Applejack. She was nodding her head. Huh. He must have said that last thought out loud.

Granny looked at the owl, “Well, dearie, Ah’m afraid we don’t have a ready reply. Do ya think you can come back tommorra?”

The owl sighed and gave a short hoot.

“If’n yer gonna stay the night, thar’s plenty o’ mice in the barn. Help yourself,” Granny said.

The owl perked up at that.

“Be car’ful o’ the woods, though,” she continued, “thar be some pretty nasty beasts in thar that would consider you quite a tasty snack!”

The owl gave her a close look, then nodded. He hopped once on the table, then launched himself into the air and out the window.

“Come on, come on,” said Scootaloo excitedly, “Let’s go! A school just for magic from your home!” Scootaloo had caught on quickly to what this letter meant, as had the other two.

However, as they stood up the three fillies discovered that their seating-cushions were stuck to their rears by tree sap. “Ah, ponyfeathers!” mumbled Scootaloo, “I forgot about that problem.” Although how she could forget it when her entire side was covered in grass was a mystifying.

“Language!” Applejack said, staring sternly at the offending filly.

“Sorry,” Scootaloo mumbled, blushing at getting caught.

Harry, on the other hoof, seemed to be clear of tree sap. In fact, not even that annoying itch inside his right ear — or was it the left? — that he thought was a remnant of tree sap was gone. Apparently, in his teleporting he had managed to leave the sap and grass behind! Which was strange because in the past he had teleported with his saddlebags without leaving them behind. He knew he could control what he teleported, it wasn’t by default everything on him, but he hadn’t known he had such fine control over what went with him.

There was no way the three fillies were willing to go to see Twilight Sparkle at the castle with sap and grass stuck to them — the scolding they would get if Twilight caught them getting sticky sap and grass in her castle, or, Celestia forbid, on any of her . . . er, Ponyville’s . . . library books would be epic!

So, it was off to the barn and the big tub. For the next hour the four of them worked at shampooing the sap out of the fillies’ fur — Harry had never seen gallon jugs of shampoo until his first experience with tree-sap. He had been even more surprised to learn that Applejack actually bought it in fifty-five-gallon barrels and decanted it into easier-for-the-fillies-to-use gallon jugs.

The fillies gave Harry narrowed-eye looks of disgust at his easy solution to the sap problem. As a result they relegated as much of the scrubbing as possible to him. Jealousy might also have been a part of that, especially on Sweetie Belle’s part — despite Harry’s attempts at instruction, she still hadn’t managed to teleport even one inch. Harry suspected she just hadn’t really had good motivation for her attempts. Apparently, just wanting to teleport wasn’t enough for the first time. You REALLY had to want to teleport!

Finally, just before lunch, they were finished. And after a filling lunch, the five of them set out for Twilight’s castle.

Ignoring the guard, who was well-used to Harry and the antics of the CMC and Mane Six, Harry banged open the castle door, and yelled, “TWILIGHT!” He hoped she was home. It would be just his luck that today she had gone off to Canterlot or someplace else equally inconvenient.

They heard hoofbeats coming down the hall. “Hi, Harry, AJ!” said Twilight as she cantered into view. “And girls! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here today? I’m afraid no new Daring Do books have come in,” she said apologetically to the fillies as she came up to them. “And Spike is upstairs reading his comics.”

After hearing their explanation of the morning’s events, and briefly examining the letters, they headed for the library room. Twilight’s horn glowed lavender as they entered and the books in neat piles around her seat at the big table rapidly shot away and into empty slots all around as two dozen books — Harry counted them later — flew from the shelves and piled themselves beside her.

The fillies and Applejack amused themselves for the next half hour looking over the new books that had arrived at the castle library since the last time they had visited — three days ago. Harry carefully, and enviously, watched Twilight, studying how she used her magic and looking for clues on how to improve his own.

He was getting good at levitation and could hold seven things up at a time, as long as they weren’t too heavy. Or a single item, like his saddlebags or a basket of apples, up to about ten kilos. He had also mastered the fire-starter spell, the cutting spell, and about a dozen other tiny spells, such as the one to turn the page of a book or change the colour of his saddlebags. And Rarity had been teaching him illusions. Those, at least the small ones, he found easy. He now routinely hid his lightning-bolt scared flanks. It cut down on the drama when meeting new ponies.

He would much rather deal with remarks about his “blank flank” than the pity, and sometimes horror, ponies expressed upon seeing the scars and realizing they were not his cutie-mark. As for the scar on his forehead, the black fur directly over it hid it, but also revealed it in a way that most ponies took as an unusual birthmark. Which was fortunate, as any spell trying to hide the black fur failed after only a few minutes. Fur dye also failed. There was just something in the magic in the scar that refused any attempt at covering it up or hiding it. He had finally given up trying. Although, he had noticed recently, after the incident with the magic-stealing Tirek, that the scar there, and the ones on his flanks, were beginning to fade. Of course, that could be just his imagination.

Finally, she slammed the last book closed. “Nope,” she said. “Definitely no such school in Equestria, or the Crystal Empire, the Ponyish speaking countries. Nor is there a school by that name in Zebrica, Neighpon, Chineigh, Indwhinnia, Griffonstone, or the Dragon lands. And none of those book authors are in the last census report, nor in the Canterlot Library Index.”

Harry knew what was coming next. He sighed. There was no way out of it.

“So,” she said, fixing him with a steady stare and slightly manic grin, “Is this from your world?” He could feel her excitement at the possibilities — heck everypony could see the signs — she was almost vibrating at the prospects this letter provided.

Harry shrugged, “Maybe? I know my . . . relatives . . . lied to me constantly about how magic didn’t exist and was fake, yet I can do this.” He levitated one of the sheets of the letter.

She stared at him a bit more, then her eyes narrowed and her expression shifted to one of suspicion. “You seem more surprised by the letter than you are by the existence of a portal to your home world.” Applejack looked up from the book she was perusing at hearing this.

He knew she suspected the truth. He sighed again and looked down at the table-top. He had had plenty of time to think about that on the way over and while waiting for her to finish her research. He could try to say he didn’t know, but while he didn’t know exactly how the owl did it, he did know of a way for sure. Trying to avoid mentioning what he knew would backfire in the long run. Especially with the living lie-detector that was Applejack sitting at the same table.

“There’s a two-way portal in the Everfree forest that leads from here to there,” he said reluctantly, still avoiding looking her in the eyes.

“I KNEW IT!” she shouted excitedly, jumping to her hooves and hopping in place for a moment. “I knew there was a portal in the Everfree!” She suddenly stopped and looked at him. She raised an eyebrow and leaned forward intently, “And you know it’s two-way . . . how?”

By now the others were all back at the table. Applejack was giving him careful study. Even Spike was regarding him suspiciously.

He looked over at the other Cutie Mark Crusaders. After a moment’s silence they all nodded. They would support him in this. He was a part of the herd, after all.

Harry waited until all he could hear were quiet snores from Spike in his basket, Twilight in her bed, and the normal night noises from outside. Then he slipped out of his bed and carefully worked his way downstairs. He even managed to avoid both steps that squeaked. Once on the ground floor he made his way to the front door, eased it open, and made his way outside. He closed the door as quietly as possible and gently walked off the porch.

Sneaking out would have been soo much easier if he didn’t have hooves and the library had carpeting. As it was, unless he was extremely careful his hard hooves on the hard floor tended to make a lot of noise that seemed to echo loudly throughout the building this late at night. What should have taken only a few minutes instead took the better part of half-an-hour.

On the positive side, though, at least Twilight had dismissed the guards that had followed him around the first three weeks after he had moved in. He never would have tried this if they were still here. And he had always been unsure of what the guards were supposed to do, anyway. Protect him from the ponies, or protect the ponies from him?

Once on the dirt outside, he quickly trotted off. He had made this trip in the daylight several times, so doing so at night wasn’t that difficult, especially with Luna’s bright moon shining down on everything. Soon enough, he passed through the wooden archway to Sweet Apple Acres. Minutes later he was nearing the place where Apple Bloom and her friends, now his friends, had found him a month ago. He took a moment to marvel that he actually had friends now, friends who were not afraid to be seen with him. Friends. He rolled the word around in his mouth. It had a nice comforting feel to it.

The guards kept a constant presence at that location, just outside the Everfree Forest. They had built a small barracks there with a roof-mounted observation walkway to increase the area they could see as well as protect them from a blind-side attack at ground level. They didn’t stray into the Everfree itself at night, deeming it needlessly dangerous to do so. Instead, at night, they relied on unicorn magic to watch the trail while during the day there were three patrols — dawn, midday, and dusk — that went as far as they could trace his original trail, looking for any others who might abruptly appear. And keeping any ponies from exploring and disappearing, in turn!

It was early summer, now. That made it easier for Harry to sneak through the grass just out of visual and magical range of the guards as he made his way into the Everfree. The woods looked as dark and gloomy as ever, and even the light of Luna’s moon didn’t make it that much easier for him to see his way. In any case, it didn’t take him long to cut through the forest at an angle and reach the well-worn path that led to his destination. The guards never suspected his presence.

It took another half an hour to move through forest. Even with the brilliant moonlight the forest was dark with menacing shadows hiding holes and protruding debris at every step. Then he was standing beside the tree where the guards had said his trail disappeared.

Just after getting out of the hospital, Twilight had had him retrace his steps through the forest — at least to the best of his remembrance. Around this entire area for about fifty body-lengths she had cast all sorts of spells searching for some signs of his passage, for some sign of a portal. She had ultimately concluded there was no portal, and if there had been one, it must have dissipated after Harry fell through it. Or else it was of such low power that the natural wild magic permeating the area completely masked its presence. In which case they would never find it except by sheer accident —literally stumbling through it.

“And while that’s possible,” she had explained, “it’s extremely unlikely given the power requirements such a portal requires to exist.” She paused, “Unless it’s powered entirely from the other side . . . .” She looked down at Harry, “But you told me that magic is virtually unknown where you come from, so that’s highly unlikely, as well.” She grabbed her lower lip in her teeth thoughtfully. “Except you can do magic and you have a magic field,” she said as she stared at him.

Harry shrunk down a little, as he always did when an adult confronted him.

“And, no, for the last time, you cannot examine the area yourself.” She frowned down at him. “Even with all these guards the Everfree is still too dangerous for a little colt such as yourself.” She gave a quick glance at guards standing around them. “If I can’t find it with my abilities, you most certainly will not be able to do so.”

However, long experience had taught him that adults could not be trusted. They had no qualms about lying to children — for the children’s own good, they always claimed. He had to try himself, just to be sure. It had taken him this long to build up the courage and determination. And to work out a way to do it without getting caught. Everypony would be most upset at him wandering into the Everfree Forest alone at night. But needs must, as he had once read.

He shook his head to stop that memory, turned his back to the tree, and tried to remember what had happened that afternoon in Little Whinging.

He had fallen several times after leaving the playground, he remembered, but had always managed to get back to his feet — his meditations since he had arrived in this strange world had paid big dividends in improving his memory.

All except the last time he fell. He had been staggering from one tree to another, barely managing to stay on his feet and wishing he had somewhere else to go besides the Dursleys. But that last time he had reached out for the next tree and instead of grabbing onto the tree’s trunk, he had fallen to the ground.

Or, more precisely, he reflected as he studied his memory, he had fallen to his hands and knees and then rolled a short ways to his left, somehow missing the tree that had been directly in front him. He should have crashed head-first into the tree’s trunk, at the very least, except he hadn’t.

And that time he just couldn’t get back on his feet, for some reason. Each time he tried to stand up, he overbalanced and landed on his hands and feet. He had thought it was because he was so hurt at the time. And he had been almost unconscious. Between the two the memory was more than a bit foggy and blurry.

But what if that hadn’t been it? What if it had been because he was now a small pony and no longer a two-legged human? That standing on his rear legs as a pony naturally made him overbalance and fall forward? And his concentration so shot that he hadn’t even noticed his new form.

That was the clue. Why hadn’t he caught the tree?

What if the tree itself were the portal? What if Twilight had been right and the portal pulled its power from his world and the inherent magic in the Everfree Forest hid the portal? After all, magic had to exist in his world or he could never have teleported to the roof of the school. Or done any of the other “freaky” things his relatives had accused him of doing that he now knew were manifestations of his magic.

He turned around to face the tree. Trembling, he raised a hoof and leaned it against the tree. Nothing unexpected happened. He stood with one hoof against the tree. He took a breath, stepped closer, and then reared up and placed both hooves against the tree. Still nothing.

He let out a shaky breath. Slowly, he shuffled his way around the tree, keeping his front hooves against it the entire way until he had completely circled the tree. He leaned his head against the tree between his forelegs and took a deep breath.

It didn’t make sense. He knew he should have fetched up against a tree in that last step in his home world, but he hadn’t. He suddenly had a flash of memory of wood on both sides of him, then falling down. He let out the breath. Was he crazy to think the portal that Twilight couldn’t find was this giant tree? That this tree led back to his Earth? To Little Whinging?

At that thought, he suddenly fell forward, wood flashing to his side.

He tumbled to ground and slid a short distance. He rolled over and just laid there on his back for a moment, staring up at a night sky hidden from sight by the tree canopy overhead. What had happened? He rolled over again, and pushed himself to his hands and knees.

His mind went completely blank. Hands and knees.

He looked down at his arms. He could see his arms! In fact, he could feel the cool night breeze blowing across his bare skin, everywhere. Skin. Not fur. He looked up, eyes wide, then looked around. Absolutely, this was the forest in Little Whinging and not the Everfree in Equestria. Even in the little moonlight that managed to make it through the leaves he could see the difference in the trees and forest floor. Not to mention that the moon above wasn’t nearly as bright as Luna’s.

And he could smell the difference. This forest smelled nothing like the slight odour of decay and menace that permeated the Everfree. There wasn’t the ever-present ominous feeling that something was going to jump out at any moment and eat him. And if he listened carefully, which he certainly was at that moment, he could hear the faint sound of car engines and tyres from the motorway running beside Little Whinging. He could even hear the faint sound of a door slamming.

Slowly he looked behind himself. There was a big tree. He turned around, still on his hands and knees. He balanced on his knees, ignoring the pain of small twigs digging into his skin, and placed his hands on the tree’s trunk, He leaned forward. Nothing happened. He stood up and leaned heavily against the tree’s trunk.

He started shaking. Had he made a mistake? Was he now stuck here? He wanted to go back to Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle. He wanted to go back to the Ponyville library where he wasn’t treated as a freak. He suddenly fell forward and again rolled to his left a short distance.

Blinking hard, he unsteadily got to his hooves and looked around. He was back! He almost collapsed in relief. He stood there, shaking, for several minutes before turning around and looking at the tree behind. Did he dare try it again?

It worked exactly the same — he thought about going to Little Whinging and fell through when he tried to lean against the tree. He thought about Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres, and walked back through.

He sat down and didn’t think for a time. How long? He didn’t know. Finally, he stood and slowly started back down the trail. He could go back any time he wanted. But he wouldn’t go back for a while. A long while. He wanted to learn as much as he could about magic here in Equestria. Then he would go back. He would go back and give the Dursleys’ double the pain they gave him. Or maybe triple. It was fun to think about. As he left Sweet Apple Acres behind, he began cantering happily back to the library.

He didn’t get much sleep after he snuck back into his bed. His mind just kept going over and over what he wanted to do to the Dursleys.

But first, he had to learn magic!

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

15 — For Whom the Owl Tolls

Author's Notes:

Bonus chapter for hitting 100 likes, June 10, 2018!
And thank you to all who are reading my story.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Twilight after his explanation, her voice reflecting her wounded feelings that he hadn’t told her the portal still existed and could be used to go back to his world.

Even Spike was giving him a disapproving stare. As was Applejack.

He shrugged, and looked at the fillies. They smiled encouragingly back at him. A year ago he would have been terrified at her discovering his secret. Today, thanks to his filly friends, he was considerably more confident. He still twitched at certain sounds and voice tones, but, overall, he was a different colt than before.

“I was worried you’d send me back. And I’d do anything to avoid going back to the Dursleys. Plus, I wanted to stay here with my friends. So . . . ,” he let his voice trail off.

She sighed deeply, a hurt expression on her face. “Harry, we would never have forced you to go back, you know that.”

He gave her a swift glance and resumed staring at the table-top. “I know that now, but back then I didn’t. I worried every day that you’d toss me out as soon as your experiments were done. That once you wrung ‘Subject’ dry and could learn no more, well . . . I’d be out the door and discarded like an old dishrag.”

She leaned back, her ears lying against her head, appalled, “I would never . . . .”

“As I said,” he interrupted, “I know that now, but I didn’t back then. Back then, all I knew was that adults were not to be trusted. That they’d say one thing one day, then another the next. And beat you for imagined misdeeds. Kids . . . other foals, you’d say . . . were just as bad.” He gave a quick smile to the three fillies. Three fillies who had unreservedly accepted him. Three fillies who had told him he was family to them, a herd with him. Three fillies he couldn’t imagine leaving. “Except you of course,” he softly said to them, happiness shining in his eyes. The three immediately moved around the table and hugged him.

Applejack had been watching and listening quietly. “Apple Bloom,” she said ominously. “Ah see ya aren’t surprised ta hear ’bout this portal. . . .”

Twilight frowned at this observation and turned her attention from Harry to his “herd-mates.”

Apple Bloom gulped and pretended not to hear her sister as she continued to hug her friends, maybe even a bit tighter. The silence was damning in and of itself.

Harry could see Twilight frowning as she thought things over. “AJ,” she finally said, “I think we need Rarity and Lofty or Holiday here when these troublemakers explain themselves.”

“Ah reckin yer right,” the mare half growled as she turned to the door. “Spike? Ya want to get Rarity and Fluttershy while Ah track down Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and one a’ Scootaloo’s aunts?”

“Sure!” said Spike as he ran out the door, followed by Applejack at a slightly more sedate pace.

“While we wait,” Twilight said quietly, “You, Harry, can tell me just how many times you’ve been through the portal and when.”

Harry ran his hoof through his mane, “Heh,” he said uncomfortably looking down. “Maybe a dozen times?”

At Twilights accusatory glare, he explained, “We were careful. Nopony saw us!” That was true, no Guards or any other ponies had seen them. People in the playpark and around Little Whinging, though . . . .

“We?”

Uh, oh. “Heh,” he said embarrassedly running a hoof through his mane. “The fillies wanted to see where I lived. See what people looked like.” He cut his eyes to his friends. They looked as embarrassed as he felt.

“They have carts for carrying ponies that ponies don’t have to pull, and go faster than a pony can run,” Sweetie Belle said, trying to be helpful.

“And trains that can carry hundreds of ponies at a time that fly without pegasi pulling them,” added Scootaloo, “we saw ’em!” Anything to distract the upset purple alicorn from their transgressions.

For a moment it looked like it might work. Harry could see the interest in Twilight’s eyes, the way she started to shiver excitedly at the prospect of learning something new.

“All of you went there? Multiple times? Through the Everfree Forest?” she growled.

Realizing that maybe that wasn’t the best thing to admit, Harry looked back down at the floor and the fillies shuffled uncomfortably at his side, also looking everywhere but at Twilight.

“We were careful,” he said quietly.

“The Everfree,” Twilight restated flatly, glaring at them.

“But you go there all the time!” he weakly defended.

“I’m an adult! And the bearer of the Element of Magic!” she declared, glaring at him. “And you don’t know any offensive or defensive magic!”

“Maybe you should teach me some, then!” Harry shot back. Then leaned back. Ooops. “I should’na said that,” he mumbled to his fillies. As one they nodded.

“You’re too young to do those spells! You don’t have the power!” she shot back.

Harry looked away. “We don’t know that. I’m also too young to teleport!” he said quietly. “And yet I can do that quite well, thank you very much!”

Twilight just glared at him.

They sat in silence. Twilight’s expression varying from glaring at them for sneaking into that deadly forest, for any reason, to delight whenever she thought about finally visiting Harry’s home-world and all the things there were to learn there!

Twilight glared at them until the other mares arrived.

“What have they gotten into this time?” queried Rarity as she came in. Twilight simply shook her head, delaying an answer until everyone was here.

Aunt Holiday, an earth-pony, was shaking her head in resignation as she came in a moment later, behind Applejack. Unfortunately for Scootaloo, Aunt Holiday was not the more laid-back and relaxed Aunt Lofty. Whatever the trouble was, the stern mare was certain that Scootaloo was in the middle of it. Her gaze quickly found her niece and the guilty look she got in return confirmed her suspicions, earning the filly a glare.

Twilight said, “Rarity, you already know most of this, but Holiday, you don’t.” The purple alicorn sighed. “You know Harry isn’t from here,” she said to Scootaloo’s aunt, “Most ponies assume he’s from one of the countries outside Equestria, but he’s from much, much farther away.

“Harry is actually from another world entirely. He came here through a portal, which we thought dissipated after he passed through it. Today, Harry received a message from his home-world, and just now told us that he’s known the portal was still in existence for over a year.”

Holiday switched from glaring at Scootaloo to staring at Harry while frowning suspiciously.

“He had his reasons for not telling us, and while I disagree with those reasons, I understand why he kept silent.”

Aunt Holiday turned her attention back to Twilight looking apprehensive. “And this concerns Scootaloo, how?”

Twilight cleared her throat. “It seems that the fillies here,” she stopped and looked at Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom in turn, “. . . not only knew about the portal, which is in the Everfree Forest,” she growled the last two words, “but have actually gone with him to visit his home-world. Multiple times. And didn’t tell anyone.”

Both new ponies were giving their respective relative filly a harsh glare. Applejack was doing the same with Apple Bloom, although part of that glare was mixed with disappointment.

“We made a Pinkie Promise!” squeaked out Scootaloo.

“So, Harry Potter,” Twilight said ignoring the interruption, “How did the fillies find out about the Portal? Did you tell them?”

“Come on, Harry!” Scootaloo said.

“We’ll get caught,” Harry argued back.

“No, we won’t,” she wheedled. “There’s only two guards posted there at a time, and they only check your trail twice a day now, mornin’ and evenin’.”

“I know,” he said, his right hoof through his mane nervously. “It’s just so dangerous in there according to the guards and Twilight!” He looked away from them. “Besides, I’ve already looked for the portal with Twilight and the guards when I got out of the hospital.”

He didn’t want to admit he had already been back there since then. That would lead to even more questions.

“Ah, gee, Harry, this is our chance to get our Cutie Marks in tracking,” Apple Bloom said.

“Or maybe our Cutie Marks in Guard Scouting!” said Scootaloo.

“And it’ll help you, too,” finished Sweetie Belle.

Harry sighed and stared out the clubhouse window. He had already told them he knew exactly where the trail led, and that it simply stopped dead. But once Scootaloo got an idea in her head it was impossible to dislodge it.

Just look at what had happened when they had tried to be Chicken Rescuers in the Everfree, or ninjas! Not their best days. He wondered if there was just something about ponies without cutie marks that attracted tree sap. Or were the four of them destined to get cutie marks as tree sap collectors? Oh, the irony! At least the Sugar Maple tree sap tasted good. He wouldn’t mind collecting that.

In any case, the three fillies had been pestering him every day for a month, now. And he knew they wouldn’t stop until he caved in to them. Finally, he said, “Okay.” He would show them the place, nothing more. They’d never find the portal, itself, he’d make sure of that.

“Yeah!” yelled the other three.

He sighed, “We’ll have to do it on the weekend when the guards are having lunch.”

“Awwww,” came the disappointed response.

He shook his head, “It’s too late in the day, now, plus the guards get antsy as sundown approaches. They’d spot us for sure.” They nodded in reluctant understanding.

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough for the fillies, and it arrived far too quickly for the colt.

“Okay, you have to do as I say or the guards will catch us,” Harry explained. “They take their lunch at noon, so we need to be in position at a quarter to noon. What we’ll do is go into the edge of the Everfree far enough away that they can’t see us and we can’t see the barracks. Then we can start moving closer to the path until we reach the edge of what they monitor with magic. Once they go to lunch, we’ll cut at an angle into the forest and let the forest hide us as we sneak onto the trail. When we get on it, we’ll be far enough away for them not to see us. Got it?” He stared intently at the three fillies. They nodded eagerly. Harry sighed. The three fillies seemed distinctly lacking in survival instincts.

But this was not news to Harry. Not after the last year with them. How the four of them survived some of their adventures he could only attribute to luck. Certainly not to any caution the trio had displayed. Their sense of self-preservation always seemed to kick in a bit late, if at all.

Anyway, Harry regularly visited the guards to ask if they had seen or found anything new. He wanted to make sure the Portal was still undiscovered and his secret safe.

The guards thought it was sad. They suspected he was worried that whatever had hurt him might come through after him again. So, they went out of their way to reassure him that they were doing a good job of watching the area for suspicious activity. They repeatedly told him he didn’t have to worry, explaining their routines and what they watched for. They noticed he always left happier than when he arrived and congratulated themselves on helping the poor colt cope with his fears.

The foals’ trip through the orchard was steady and quiet. Harry used the same discreet approach he had used to find the portal previously. The girls readily followed his lead.

Faster than he wanted, they arrived at the edge of the forest. Sneaking closer to the barracks and his trail’s entry to the forest was nerve-wracking for all of them. He didn’t want to stray too far into the wilds of the Everfree, preferring to stay as close to the relatively “safe” edge as possible.

A pair of binoculars would have been nice, but Scootaloo’s pegasus vision more than made up for their lack. They were fortunate that the two guards on shift right now were both unicorns. He just had to rely on her to not impatiently rush things and take unnecessary chances.

“Harry,” she whispered, “The guards are headed back downstairs.”

“Great!” he answered just as quietly, “We’ll wait five minutes, then head for the trail.” He gave the fillies a frowning look. “Stay close to me and be quiet!”

The trail, by now, was quite well marked by the many guard ponies who had walked it, which made it ridiculously easy to find. As soon as they reached it, the girls rushed past him. He followed the three excited fillies as they bounded into the darkness under the forest’s canopy.

After a brief ten-minute fast trot they reached the end of the trail, beside a giant of a tree. The area around it was a tangle of roots barely covered by the moss and forest debris. The guard ponies’ regular patrols and checks for changes had packed down the forest floor at this spot. You could easily see the path the Guards walked as they circled a wide area enclosing several trees where they suspected the portal to have been.

Harry carefully walked up to the tree trunk and sat down, his back to the tree. As a human he would have been tempted to lean against the tree, but as a pony he sat leaning slightly forward with his front hooves nestled between his rear legs. He needed only a long furred tail to complete his impersonation of a cat. As it was, he had to remind himself not to sweep his tail back and forth nervously and accidentally fall through to his home world.

He had to smile at their determination, and loyalty, though. This world was so different from where he grew up. The fillies had said, and he had heard the adult mares talking the same way, that stallions were more than a bit reckless and it was the mares’ job to protect them and keep them out of trouble. These three had apparently made him their project, and he couldn’t say he minded one bit. It was nice to know someone . . . somepony . . . actually cared enough to look out for him.

Although, the three fillies weren’t all that much girly. At least, that is, what he thought of as girly. Back home they would have been called tom-boys with all their crazy schemes and predicaments. Was there a word “tom-colt”? Did that make him a “jane-filly” in Equestria with the way he tried to protect them and keep them out of trouble? The stallion-mare relationships were confusing to him.

Despite their mishaps searching for cutie marks, they were always a group. A herd, the fillies called it. And they wouldn’t dream of doing something without him. The first time they had had a sleepover in their clubhouse had been a revelation. For the very first time he could remember, he had not slept alone. And waking in the middle of a pony pile had been the best thing that had ever had happened to him. Well, second best thing. The first was falling into Equestria. Even knowing how the painful first weeks were going to be, he would eagerly have done it all again.

“Here it is,” he said, “This is where we lost the trail.” He looked down. “You can’t see it anymore, but there were scuff marks near this tree indicating I fell down here. Unfortunately, there weren’t any marks anywhere else except for the trail leading to the orchard. Twilight couldn’t find any residual magic that would show where a portal might have existed.”

The three fillies wandered around him, and the tree, and stared at everything else while he talked.

“Twilight searched for any signs of magical leakage. She said a portal should have been like a spring of magic welling up, but all she could detect was the normal background of wild magic here in the Everfree. There wasn’t anything else. The guards searched around for a hole or something that might conceal a portal. The Pegasus guards even flew around checking higher up branches. They poked and prodded just about everything. And found nothing.”

The fillies pushed against the other trees and hoofed the ground. They kicked big rocks that had roots wrapped around them. All to no avail. Eventually, they gave up and gathered around him, staring into the forest. Sweetie Belle sat and leaned against him. Apple Bloom sat on his other side and leaned against him as well. Scootaloo just walked circles around the tree. She stopped in front of him and sat.

She tilted her side to side a bit and asked, “What was your world like?”

He grimaced. He usually avoided talking about his world, except to Twilight — they had spent many hours on the subject. To the fillies, well, he had always given them some vague answer and switched the subject. Today, however, he had the feeling they wouldn’t let him get away with that tactic.

“Well, no magic, as I’ve told you. At least none that I knew of. We used technology for everything. I’ve told you we have trains. Our trains, though don’t use steam like yours, they use electricity and oil. They run much quieter and go much faster for far longer — no stops to refill the water, you see. You know how fast the train that stops here at Ponyville goes? Our trains regularly went twice as fast as that. There were even a few special trains that could go from here to Canterlot in under an hour instead of most of a morning or afternoon. None of those fast trains were where I lived, though.

“And we flew in planes. Planes are like train cars with wings that carry people and cargo everywhere by flying. Imagine a train with one car that could hold two hundred ponies, all at the same time. Now imagine that train with metal wings as wide as the train was long and flying through the air as fast as the fastest that Rainbow Dash could fly — and she can fly from here to Canterlot in fifteen minutes. We had thousands of those in the air all at the same time flying all over the world.

“And ships. We don’t use sailing ships, we use the same engines in ships that our trains do. And the ships are huge, some are as long as Ponyville is wide, and could carry as many as five thousand ponies at once. And cargo ships that are even bigger.”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had moved to beside Scootaloo by this time. They looked at him in amazement. “Ohh, yer pulling our legs,” Apple Bloom said. The other two nodded, agreeing.

“Nope,” Harry said, “Honest truth. I’ve personally seen the planes flying over Little Whinging going to and from London. I saw the ships and trains on the telly.”

“Telly?” asked Sweetie Belle uncertainly.

“Oh, yeah, every house has at least one of those. It’s a box that shows films . . . ,” at their frowns he amended that to, “. . . plays and news from all over the world. England, where I lived, has two stations that send out plays all day and night to the tellies. Dramas, comedies, romances, you name it, they have a play for it. They have whole series of plays, like . . . well, imagine all the Daring Do books as plays, where you get a new play every week.

“And music stations, too, so you can listen to music at any time of the day.”

They were staring at him with wide eyes.

“Now I know you’re pulling our legs!” Scootaloo said.

“I am not!”

“Yes you are!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“NO I’M NOT!”

“YES YOU ARE!”

“AM NOT!”

“ARE TOO!”

They glared at each other and then Scootaloo lunged forward to tackle Harry. Harry toppled over backwards. He saw wood shoot by beside him. And then it was bright out.

Startled by the sudden light, Harry blinked, looking up into the underside of the tree overhead. “Uh oh,” he said. He had been hoping that by sitting right in front of the portal he would prevent them from accidentally discovering it by tripping through it. He was pretty sure that their desire to find the portal to his home-world would trigger it in that case. And, it seemed, Scootaloo had.

The forest here was more open and much brighter than the oppressive Everfree.

“What was that?” Scootaloo said from her position on his chest. She blinked her eyes and started to look around. “Oh, wow!”

He twisted his head to the side and looked towards his feet. Just as he had feared, there was a tree there. Almost immediately two girls tumbled out of the tree on top of Harry and Scootaloo. And then rolled off to either side.

“Where are we,” Scootaloo asked in confusion.

“Oh, wow!” said Apple Bloom blinking and staring around. “Ya’ll just vanished!” She still had her pink bow in her hair, but it looked much smaller now.

“Ptui,” said Sweetie Belle, spitting out the dead leaves and forest debris she had accidentally gotten into her mouth when she fell down face first.

Harry sighed and said, “Welcome to my world.”

He pushed Scootaloo off to one side and slowly stood up, stretching muscles and feeling things shift that he hadn’t felt in months. It was awkward at first, he was out of practice at standing and walking on two legs. He swayed slightly, hands on his hips, looking down at the three girls, who, he now realized were naked. As he was. The nudity taboo he had grown up with kicked into high gear and he immediately turned around and started examining the trees around them.

Scootaloo was too busy looking at her new hands to complain about Apple Bloom landing on her.

“We gotta go back. Now,” Harry said urgently over his shoulder.

“What?” came the abstracted responses from the three girls staring around them in wonder.

“Look, we can’t stay here, we’ve got to go back. It’s dangerous here.”

“But I want to look around!” exclaimed Apple Bloom, doing just that.

“I thought you said your world didn’t have timberwolves, manticores, and all those other dangerous creatures that live in the Everfree!” said Sweetie Belle.

“They don’t, but the people are the ones we have to avoid! We can’t stay here, it’s dangerous. If someone sees us we might never get back to home,” Harry explained quickly.

“But I want to explore!” said Scootaloo.

Harry snorted, “You can’t even stand up, much less walk!”

“What!” said Scootaloo, offended, craning her neck to look up at him.

Harry rolled his eyes, still looking over his shoulder. “Okay, stand up and walk.”

“Ha!” she said, rolling onto her stomach and then getting to her hands and feet. She looked very silly with her butt up in the air. Fortunately, Harry thought, her head was towards him.

“That’s not standing up, this is,” Harry explained, standing with his arms out and turning sideways to her.

Scootaloo tried to imitate him and promptly fell on her butt. She rolled over onto her hands and feet again and tried to stand once more. It wasn’t possible from the position she was in.

Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle had started to look around and quickly homed in on the fact that Harry no longer had fur or a sheath to hide his . . . stuff . . . and was staring curiously, and blushing. Apple Bloom noticed her staring and followed her gaze, getting her own blush in turn. They had all seen stallions, of course, but this was different. Everything was just . . . out there.

Harry could hear the traffic from the nearby subdivision of houses and started to get worried. It was the middle of the day, and summer to boot. There was a good chance some kids might spot them. And a kid running home telling his parents about three girls and a boy in the woods by the park, all stark naked, would get the constables here immediately.

“Oh, god,” he said in a panic. “We’ve got to go back before anyone sees. Come on, hurry!” He pushed Scootaloo around to face the tree. She was still trying to go from standing on her hands and feet to standing on her feet only. Which gave him a view he really hadn’t anticipated. No longer a pony, she had no tail that he could pretend covered things up.

Fillies and mares didn’t seem to care about such things with older fillies and mares frequently flicking their tails aside when flirting with stallions. Stallions were the ones who were secretive. The reverse of what he was used to here.

“What are you doing?” she complained.

“I’ll explain later, we can’t stay here,” he said, his face nearly as red as Sweetie Belle’s and Apple Bloom’s. He put his hand on Scootaloo’s butt and pushed her at the tree, desperately wanting to go back to Equestria.

“AHH—!” she said falling towards the tree. The fact he had his hand on her must have helped, as she disappeared into the tree immediately on reaching it. It would have been more than a little awkward if she had just hit her head on the tree.

His obvious distress motivated the other two girls into following his orders, and grumbling, all three soon were stumbling out of the tree portal into the Everfree forest.

As soon as they were all there he collapsed on the ground. “Oh, thank god!” he said.

The three fillies rounded on him. “What was that all about?” Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom still had red faces, as did Harry.

“Look, I know you don’t understand, but in my world everypony wears clothes almost all the time. The only exceptions are when taking a bath or shower, and then you are alone. There are laws against not wearing clothes in public!

“If somepony saw us,” he continued, “they would call the constables, the guards. The guards would arrest us and take us back to their station. And when we couldn’t tell them where our parents were, they’d send us to foster homes or an orphanage and we’d probably never see each other again.

“If we tried to tell them we were from another world, they’d think we were sick and not thinking right and send us to a hospital, and again we’d probably never see each other.

“In fact, as soon as they saw how hard you found it to walk, they’d just take us to a hospital thinking something was wrong with you and split us up.

“And even if they just put clothes on us and let us go, how would we find that tree again? We have no idea where we were, or how to return. And asking the guards to take us back to where we were found would get us taken back to the hospital again as they tried to find out why we were so obsessed with a tree!”

“So,” said Sweetie Belle, “You’re saying that if we want to explore your world, we need clothes and to learn how to walk on two legs? And some way of marking where we are so we can get back here?”

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “Yeah, I guess so. But we’re not going back.”

All three fillies grinned slyly at him.

“No. Definitely not!” He shook his head emphatically.

“But Harry,” wheedled Scootaloo, “That could be our key to getting a cutie mark as daring explorers, like Daring Do!”

“Or a cutie mark in learning about other cultures!” put in Sweetie Belle.

“Or a cutie mark in adapting your world’s fashions to ours!” said Apple Bloom.

It took another month before he finally caved in. Coming into the clubhouse one fall afternoon to see all three fillies walking confidently on their hind legs while wearing dresses — well, more properly, sacks, that went from their necks almost to the floor — was the final argument. And he lost.

16 — And a Child Shall Lead Them

Author's Notes:

Another First!
Featured on the Popular Stories list yesterday, June 11, 2018. Hurray!

To celebrate, here's another chapter!

Next bonus chapter at 200 likes, and every time it makes the Featured Stories list.

Each of the fillies wilted under the fierce glare of a relative.

Spike had retreated to the hallway. He wanted no part of the drama, but his curiosity wouldn’t allow him to completely leave. Plus, Rarity was here!

“So,” snarled Applejack, “jest how long have y’all been visitin’ this here portal? How many times have ya been to his world?”

Apple Bloom gulped.

“You have been designing dresses and you haven’t shown me your designs?” an upset Rarity growled.

Sweetie Belle hung her head down and avoided her sister’s eyes.

Auntie Holiday simply glared at Scootaloo, who mumbled, “I am soo grounded.”

Twilight sat back. “I’m going to have to tell Princess Celestia about how lax the guards have been,” she said thoughtfully, staring at one of the library bookshelves with her eyes out of focus. “Three fillies and a colt regularly sneaking past them, both night and day!” She shook her head ruefully.

She straightened up, “But first, Harry Potter, you’re going to show me this portal so I can examine it myself!”

Harry shivered. “No,” he said quietly, but firmly.

All the mares turned to him. “No?” echoed Twilight disbelievingly.

Still shivering, he said, “If I show you, you’ll go through it. If you go through it, you’ll go as you are and that means you’ll be naked in my world. If someone sees you — and someone will see you because it’s a public park — you’ll be arrested and taken to the guard station. Once the tree is out of your sight, you’ll never find it again.” He took a shaky breath, “So, no! I won’t be responsible for losing you in my world.”

He shivered so hard he almost fell over. He had never defied Twilight before. Snuck under her rules, pretended to not hear her warnings, but never had he out-right, to-her-face, defied her. At the Dursley’s, that would have rated a severe beating. Here, he knew it didn’t, but the echoes of the paranoia and fear were still there.

“Before I show you the portal, you have to have a dress to wear. You have to know how to walk on your rear legs — remember how hard it was for me the first few days? And you have to agree to do as I say. I know my world. Terrible things can happen very fast, especially if someone is trying to do what they think is the right thing for you. Which for you, would be the absolutely wrong thing.”

He forced himself to look straight into her eyes. “In its own way, my world is as dangerous to you as the Everfree Forest is to a foal. You simply don’t know what’s dangerous and what isn’t, nor where to look for the danger.”

Twilight was staring at him as if she had never seen him before.

“He’s right, Twi,” said Applejack. “He’s telling the truth. He’s really worried for ya.”

The mares stood quietly, thinking, while the fillies stayed grouped around Harry, with Apple Bloom slightly in front of him.

“I can make you a simple dress in a few minutes, if I had a pattern,” said Rarity, looking at Sweetie Belle.

Sweetie Belle gulped and nodded quickly.

“And Apple Bloom and I can show you how to walk,” Scootaloo said eagerly. “It’s really not as hard as Harry makes it sound.”

Twilight blinked slowly, then nodded.

“I’ll . . . I’ll . . . go get the patterns,” Sweetie Belle said hesitantly, “They’re in our clubhouse.” She started to edge away from Harry keeping a wary eye on her sister, who was still giving her a stern glare.

“I’ll do it!” declared Harry quickly, and popped away before anypony could object.

Sweetie Belle sighed, she had been looking forward to escaping her sister’s death-glare.

Apple Bloom sighed, she wished she, too, had a reason to dash out.

Scootaloo just tried to hide behind her friends and look innocent. “I’ll be grounded until I’m older than Granny Smith,” she mumbled, glancing at her Aunt Holiday.

Into the short silence that had descended on the group came another “pop” as Harry reappeared, beside the three fillies.

“Here,” Harry said, removing three dresses from the box balanced on his back and tossing them towards his herd-mates. He dropped the box beside himself on the floor, then removed several large sheets of paper and floated them over to Rarity. “Those are the patterns that Sweetie Belle created. They’re real simple. We didn’t want anything that would stand out and make people remember seeing us.”

He stopped and looked eagerly at the fashionista.

The fillies had slipped into their dresses, each a simple modified plain summer dress in a solid colour, and now were standing up on their rear legs. In length, the dresses fell to the floor, which, when they were in Harry’s world, were half-way between their knees and the ground. These were a decided improvement over the sacks they had first tried to use. Rarity was alternately looking between the fillies and the papers held in her magic, comparing what the fillies wore to Sweetie Belle’s diagrams.

Harry concentrated, and carefully cast an illusion beside Scootaloo of what she looked like on the other side wearing the dress. “See how the lines are different? How the straps hold the dress up? And how much longer her legs are?”

The fillies were shuffling from hoof to hoof, unsure of how their relatives would take their new look. The unusual sight of their filly standing and moving almost naturally on only their rear hooves while wearing the most unusual dresses any of them had ever seen had the mares flummoxed into silence.

Rarity walked over and took a closer look at Sweetie Belle’s dress, then Scootaloo’s and Apple Bloom’s. Then compared them to the illusion Harry had cast.

They had decided on backless dresses to accommodate Scootaloo’s wings on this side. Unfortunately, Scootaloo had what looked like an extremely detailed tattoo of wings on her back when in Harry’s former world.

And to give a child a tattoo was very illegal in Britain and inevitably got Child Services involved. While the kids in the playpark might not care, their parents would surely notice and report Scootaloo to the constables. And the constables would take Scootaloo to their station and try to track down Scootaloo’s parents.

So, to keep anyone from questioning why and how she had gotten something so illegal, Sweetie Belle had sewn a cloth panel across the back between the wide shoulder straps. The bottom of the panel attached to the dress by two buttons. That kept the panel closed so the wind couldn’t blow it up and reveal Scootaloo’s secret, while allowing her wings to manifest in Equestria without causing her discomfort.

Twilight also moved closer and studied how the fillies were standing.

Auntie Holiday and Applejack continued to glare at their respective reckless niece and sister.

Rarity took a step over to Harry and looked into the box. “What about your clothes, Harry? Wait, what’s this?” A magazine floated up. Across the top was “VOGUE” with a headline at the bottom that said “Fast Forward . . . Summer Fashion on the Move, Glamourous Sportswear.” The background was a lake or bay with a city on the opposite shore. The woman on the front was wearing a red thigh-length bare-shoulders dress —a shorter version of what the fillies were wearing except theirs had wider neck openings — with green and blue animal designs.

Her jaw dropped. The cover opened and pages flipped by almost too fast for Harry to follow, but with each page Rarity became more excited. “This . . . this is a gold mine! The fashions . . . they’re nothing I’ve ever seen . . . nothing I’ve even imagined. This will revolutionize the fashion industry!” She turned to Sweetie Belle. “You’ve had this for months and you never told me?”

Her hurt expression made Harry feel terrible.

Sweetie Belle looked about to burst into tears and stared guiltily down at the floor.

“It’s my fault,” Harry confessed. “I made them all Pinkie Promise not to tell anyone,” he gave a half-hearted smile. “I was afraid that Princess Celestia would make me go back if she knew about the portal still being there and working.” He shuddered. “Later, well, I was afraid of how much trouble I would be in for keeping the portal a secret. And how much my world could do to hurt this one, even by accident.” Harry could just imagine what his uncle would do if he saw this idyllic world and the relatively defenceless ponies. He shuddered. “There are some very evil people in my world who wouldn’t hesitate to lie, cheat, and steal once they got here — and they act like perfectly nice people so you never suspect them.”

Twilight walked over to him and nuzzled his neck. “Harry,” she said softly, “We would never send you back to those horrid ponies, I promise.”

“People,” Harry corrected quietly, leaning into her mane.

After a moment, he reluctantly cleared his throat and said, “So, if you want to investigate the portal, Rarity needs to put together something like the girls are wearing for you mares. And while she is doing that, the girls can show you how they learned to walk.”

Twilight immediately turned to her unicorn friend, “Rarity, how fast do you think you can throw something together?”

Rarity was too wrapped up in investigating the magazine page by page to hear her, still flipping pages and occasionally stopping to stare.

“Rarity?”

Still nothing.

“RARITY!”

The white unicorn jumped and looked up at Twilight. “This thing has almost four hundred pages, and it says it’s a monthly publication,” she said dazedly. “That’s more pages than any fashion magazine in Equestria publishes in half a year.” She turned a stunned look to Harry. “What’s the circulation?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know for sure. A million?”

That seemed to snap her out of her daze.

“A million? Nonsense! That would be almost an eighth of the entire population of Equestria! And I can guarantee you that the number of ponies interested in fashion is far fewer than that!”

“Well, uh,” Harry stumbled, “London, the big city near where I used to live has a population of six million, and Britain as a whole is fifty-six million, if I remember correctly.”

“Fifty-six million?” half-whispered Rarity. The other mares, except Twilight, of course, looked just as stunned. He had told her this stuff months ago.

“Yeah, the world population is about five or six billion.”

“Billion?” Rarity said breathlessly.

“Uh, a billion is a thousand millions,” Harry explained.

They stared at him.

“Fillies,” said Applejack quietly, “He’s telling us the truth. He really believes those numbers.”

“I can prove it,” he pulled a thick book out of the box. “This is an almanac, it’s the 1985 version so it’s about five years out of date.”

Twilight snatched the book out of his magic field so fast it looked as if she had teleported it. She started reading, flipping the pages at a steady, and fast, rate.

“Where’d ya get these things, Harry,” Applejack asked.

Harry blushed, “Bin diving.”

At Applejack’s blank look, he added, “I went through the portal late one night and then went through people’s trash bins looking for magazines and stuff. To answer Twilight’s and the fillies’ questions.” He ran a hoof through his mane, “I got lucky and the first night I found those two things, so I took them.”

He shuffled uncomfortably, “I took the almanac because I wanted better answers for Twilight, even if I couldn’t tell her about the book. I just said I remembered more stuff a couple of days after she asked questions about where I came from.”

Applejack walked over the Twilight and waved a hoof between Twilight and the book. Twilight reared back, “GACK!”

Applejack glared at the purple alicorn. “Focus, Twilight! Portal!”

She then walked over to Rarity and did the same, snatching the magazine from her magic with her hooves. “Rarity, how long to make a simple dress!”

Rarity blinked, and returned to the problem at hand. “Not long, I just need to get some material.” She looked over to the colt, “Harry, are these dresses still appropriate for the weather in your home-world?”

“Oh, yes, it’s the high-summer there, quite like it is here now.”

She walked over to the alicorn. “Twilight, dear, stand up,” she gestured with her hoof.

Awkwardly, Twilight reared up. She was about to lose her balance when Harry used his magic to help push her back to her balance. She staggered a few steps, but managed to stay up right. Rarity spent the time comparing her with the fillies and Harry’s illusion. “Thank you, dear,” she said, “Now I know about how much material to use. I’ll be right back.” She trotted quickly to the door, stopping to stare back at Sweetie Belle, “And you have some explaining to do later, young mare!”

Sweetie Belle gulped and suddenly found something on the floor very interesting. Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Harry closed rank to let her know they supported her.

As unhappy as she was, Rarity still managed a quick smile at the sight before she turned and left.

Twilight thumped back to the floor. “Is standing and walking in Harry’s world as difficult as it is here?” she asked the fillies.

“We might as well start calling it Earth,” Harry advised. “Otherwise it sounds like I own the place.”

Twilight and the fillies gave him smiles and nodded. “Earth it is,” said Twilight.

“Actually,” said Scootaloo, back on the original subject, “standing and walking is easier, there.”

Twilight raised her eyebrows.

“Watch this,” she instructed, removing her dress. She sat down and slowly leaned back until she was balanced on her butt and back legs. Then she slowly straightened just the upper parts of her legs, leaving her hocks, fetlocks, and hooves on the floor.

“It’s a little weird feeling at first,” she explained, “But everything from your hocks to your hooves are actually flat on the ground and you use them to help balance. And they’re really short, barely two hooves long instead of almost half your leg sticking out in front of you like now. Try it.”

Twilight followed her directions and was soon “standing” easily, rocking back and forth testing her balance.

“See how easy it is? Awkward, but easy.”

Twilight nodded. The other two mares were now doing the same, experimenting with this new way of standing. Even aunt Holiday was trying it.

“You’re right, it is much easier to stand,” Twilight said, and then tried to take a step. It was a short step, and she almost fell, but pressing with her fetlock kept her upright. After a few more attempts, she said, “It’s interesting, I have to consciously not go up onto my hooves when I take a step.”

“On Harry’s . . . ,” Scootaloo glanced at the colt, “Earth, it’s not a problem at all. If you want to go up on your hooves, what Harry calls our toes, you have to consciously try to do it. But it’s really hard to keep your balance, though.”

Harry thought that watching the mares clump around the room like clowns with really big shoes on their feet was hilarious, but he couldn’t explain to them why it was funny.

While Twilight was practicing, she had Spike send a six-foot missive — she called it short at merely one celestial long — to Princess Celestia summarizing the situation. She included a separate one-foot-long explanation on how the fillies taught her to walk upright. And then ended with a “brief” two-foot-long explanation of her intent to study the Portal and ascertain its stability and usability as a permanent link to Earth, and to expect another message later this evening. She also included duplicates of the almanac, magazine, and Sweetie Belle’s drawings.

Watching as Spike sent the tightly rolled scrolls, the shorter ones inside the longer one, off to the Princess, Harry wondered how Twilight expected her very busy ruler to have the time to read the unexpected message. He knew she would have to hand the almanac over to others to read.

Barely an hour after leaving, Rarity returned with not one, but four dresses.

“Took ya long enough,” Applejack said snarkily.

Rarity sniffed and tossed her head dismissively. “Quality can never be rushed, dear,” she said in a snooty voice, lifting her snout up, and then grinned at the other mare.

Twilight slipped her dress over her head and admired its straight simple lines. It was a deep purple that matched her coat perfectly, with the slightest shimmer of stars in it. And it seemed to fit her well. She looked up questioningly at the white unicorn.

Rarity rolled her eyes, “Dear, you know I have your measurements, all I had to do was stand up a ponykin and select the correct fabric.” She floated one of the other dresses to Applejack. That one was apple green.

Applejack looked at her questioningly.

“Dear, are you really going to let Twilight walk through that portal, alone?”

To Scootaloo’s aunt she said, “I had to guess at your measurements, but I’m usually good at that.”

Five minutes later, an alicorn, three mares, a colt, three fillies, and a young dragon headed out to Sweet Apple Acres. Twilight had the almanac firmly in front of her face rapidly absorbing as much information as she could. The colt and fillies were closely packed, rubbing shoulders and flanks for reassurance. The mares had wanted to leave the fillies behind, but Harry had said, “They have spent hours on Earth, and even talked with some of the other kids. They are far more likely to keep you out of trouble than you, them.” It was a rather persuasive argument. And while the mares were not all that convinced, Harry’s stance of, “If they don’t come along, then I won’t show you how the portal works,” had been the final close of the discussion.

When they arrived at the Guard Post, Twilight greeted Sergeant True Sword, “Harry Potter, here, knows where the portal is. You will accompany us while Corporal Runner goes to the Guard Station and brings reinforcements.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” responded the Sergeant, with a salute, before turning to his Corporal and issuing the order to send every pony who could be spared. The Corporal nodded and stood unmoving.

Harry was wondering why the pony wasn’t moving when he abruptly vanished. Ah, he understood, now. The Corporal was one of the few unicorns who had taken the time to master the teleport spell. Harry had to wonder why they all didn’t learn it.

The small group headed into the Everfree Forest, the Sergeant leading the way and carefully inspecting the path for any dangers ahead or to the sides. Shivering at being in the Everfree forest, Holiday made sure to stay between Applejack and Rarity.

They had barely gone twenty paces when the Corporal ran up to the Sergeant.

“Sir,” he said, gasping a little at his expenditure of magic, “The pegasi are on their way and will be here soon. The others will be here as fast as practical.”

“Excellent, Corporal,” the Sergeant said approvingly, “you watch the left while I take forward and right.”

A salute and, “Yes, Sir,” was his answer.

They had almost reached the portal tree when five pegasi Guards, weaving through the trees, flew up to them.

Once they all arrived at the tree, the Sergeant posted the guards in a ring around the tree and civilians. “Shall I be accompanying you?” he asked Twilight.

“Um, no, unfortunately the portal changes our shapes and you wouldn’t be of assistance due to your unfamiliarity with your new form. Stay here and keep everyone else safe.”

Twilight then turned from the Sergeant and began casting spells at the tree, the other trees around it, on the ground, and even a few that seemed to go up into the air. Her quill shot across a floating scroll almost too fast for the ink to flow. Finally she returned her attention to the tree and walked around it several times studying it from every angle and continuously casting more spells.

Harry shrugged on his shirt and trousers, which were an odd fit in his pony form; he had to leave the buttons undone on the shirt and the trousers draped over his back. He had to hold them in place with his magic. The fillies slipped their dresses on and stood up on their hind legs. Twilight, Applejack, and Rarity followed suit, but with much less grace. They had to hold the dresses’ hems off the ground with their hooves in this new stance.

“And you’re taking the fillies and colt?” the Sergeant asked incredulously, with a raised eyebrow, as Harry and the fillies lined up beside the tree-portal. They clearly intended to go through the portal.

“Well, Sergeant,” Twilight said dryly, “It seems the fillies and colt have been sneaking past your post and traveling to the world on the other side of this portal for over a year now.”

The Sergeant, a grizzled veteran, blinked slowly. “They have, have they?” He turned a glare on the four. He would have a few words with his ponies when today was done. And he knew his superiors would be having words with him over the Post’s security failures.

“And they are the experts in what to expect over there,” she finished.

Harry gave the Sergeant a guilty look and turned back to the tree. Twilight stepped up beside him. He looked up at her. “To make it work, you have to want to go to Little Whinging. Just think, ‘Little Whinging.’ Wait about fifteen seconds for me to make sure there’s no one there to see us come through, okay?”

He looked back at the tree, stood on his back legs, and stepped into it.

17 — Once More Into the Breach

It was late afternoon in Little Whinging, just as it was in Equestria. It was odd how closely things in one paralleled the other, including all those terrible pony-puns on objects or place-names — Encyclopaedia Bitannica instead of Encyclopaedia Britannica or Baltimare instead of Baltimore, for example. There must be some sort of magical leakage between the two worlds.

He took a quick look around and saw no one. He checked a couple of the branches and sticks he had left lying in certain spots to see anyone had even been close to here. Nothing was disturbed, he was happy to see. He pulled his trousers into a more comfortable position, tightened his belt, put on his sandals, and buttoned his shirt.

He had barely finished when Twilight came stumbling through, her saddlebags now on her hips like a pair of fancy bum-bags, which promptly slid to the ground. He caught her arm and quickly braced his side against hers to help her keep her balance. Immediately behind her came Spike, who tripped over her saddlebags. Remarkably enough, he remained a dragon! A well-dressed dragon to be sure — Rarity and Twilight has used their magic to readjust some of his old clothes from when he and Twilight had lived in Canterlot and had to attend formal functions there — but still a dragon! Grumbling, he grabbed the fallen saddlebags so they wouldn’t be in the way of the fillies following him.

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were next, and they caught Applejack and then Holiday as they stumbled through. Then Sweetie Belle appeared and right behind her was Rarity. The fillies slipped on their sandals as their relatives adjusted their clothes.

The four mares and dragon looked around wonderingly at the strangely not-menacing forest. First Twilight, then the other mares noticed that while Scootaloo didn’t have wings, she did have what looked like incredibly detailed wings drawn on her back. She adjusted the cloth panel on the back of her dress and Sweetie Belle buttoned the two buttons to hold it down for her.

The same was true for Twilight. The mares spent a few minutes admiring the details. They could even see the ribbing on the feathers and their colours subtly shifting. Then Sweetie Belle stepped over and buttoned the buttons on the cloth panel for her. Next time, Twilight would do it herself.

The other detail was that all the females had luxurious waist-length hair.

Applejack and Apple Bloom stood out from the others. Applejack because of her very out of place light brown Stetson hat and Apple Bloom because of her pink hair-bow. Both of which were comically small on their human heads.

Harry was rather surprised at how stunningly pretty Twilight looked. He knew from what others had said that as a pony she was considered quite cute and many had said she would be beautiful in a few years. But even he could see she was going to get a lot of attention from the men in his world.

Rarity’s dress-making, although wonderful on such short notice and vague patterns, had made no allowances for the breasts the former mares now possessed. Pony breasts were in a completely different location and barely noticeable unless the pony was nursing. Even seeing the pictures in the magazine hadn’t prepared Rarity for the reality of what that translocation meant. Or that the results would be so markedly different from what they considered normal. Or vary so much between individual mares.

Rarity and Twilight were what he thought would be average while Applejack and Holiday was surprisingly large. All four women were straining the upper stitching on what had been loose clothes — some much more than others. Harry knew the dresses would have to be altered when they returned — Rarity hadn’t brought enough supplies to make changes on the spot. It also reminded Harry to mention that underwear would probably be a good idea. Although explaining the why’s and how’s would be incredibly embarrassing. It made his face hot just to think about it.

“Woah!” said Spike, looking around.

Harry pointed, “The play-park is that way about a hundred steps.” He swung his arm about one hundred twenty degrees to his left, “Little Whinging about a hundred and fifty steps that way, but you have to go around a couple of fallen trees so it’s a bit of a longer walk than that. You can’t see anything from here because we’re in a small depression.”

Harry looked at Spike and shook his head. Did Spike remaining a dragon instead of turning into a human mean there were dragons in his world and he had never known? Did that mean that because the fillies and mares coming through as girls and women that there weren’t pegasi and unicorns in his world? “Spike,” he said, “I’m sorry but you’re really going to have to try to hide. There aren’t dragons here that I know of and anyone seeing you will definitely call the Guard!”

Spike shrugged. He was small, he could do that easily.

They slowly made their way to the park. The fillies concentrated on making sure the mares didn’t fall down — they were getting better with every step, but it was still a learning experience. The uneven surface didn’t help. Nor the adults lack of shoes of any kind.

They stopped at the forest edge to watch some children playing on the slides and swings. There were a couple of housewives on a bench, talking, as their toddlers played in a sandbox not far from the swings.

A car drove down the street that bordered the west side of the park, getting all three mares and Spike to stare at it. “What’s that?” asked Applejack.

“That’s a car, a cart with an engine that makes it move and everyone rides inside the covered compartment. No magic.”

One of Twilight’s saddle-bags that Spike was still carrying opened and a quill and paper floated out. Harry grabbed them. “Don’t, Twilight. People will see and wonder how you did that. Then they would come over and we’d get caught.” He stuffed them back into the bag while Twilight pouted.

Rarity was staring intently at the three houses they could see on the other side of the road. “They’re all the same,” she said disapprovingly, “and so plain!”

“Let’s head back, now,” Harry suggested. “You need more practice walking or you’ll attract unwanted attention.”

On the way back all four mares started complaining about the small sticks and stones poking their feet. They were not used to things hurting their hooves as they walked, except in the rare case of a stick or stone hitting just the right part of the frog in their hooves.

Harry stopped and balanced on one leg while holding the other across his knee and pointing at the sandal he was wearing. “That’s the other reason we need to go back. People wear shoes to protect their feet. If you don’t have shoes, your feet will get cuts that can get infected and send you to hospital if you aren’t careful. Sweetie Belle made these out of some thick scrap cloth you had at the Boutique, Rarity.”

Once they were back in Equestria, Twilight said to the Sergeant, “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to place a watch on this now that we know where the portal is. I’m sure Princess Celestia will have a full garrison posted here by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

By now another five ponies had arrived. The Sergeant quickly assigned four to maintain watch, two on the tree and two on their surroundings so they weren’t ambushed by anything from the Everfree. They would change shifts with the other Guards every four hours until relief from Canterlot arrived.

The four mares discovered that although they didn’t have scratches on their hooves, the skin covering the backs of their pastern and cannon bones were scratched and very sore. It wasn’t a real problem, but their legs ached all the way home.

Twilight buried herself in the Almanac before the tree-portal was out of sight. Rarity, Applejack, and Holiday were quiet, while Holiday glared at Scootaloo who was doing her best to hide behind Harry and her two friends.

Spike, riding on Twilight’s back again, was the only one for conversation with them as he pestered the fillies and Harry with endless questions about what they had seen on their previous trips. The three mares listened closely, and followed the colt and fillies to make sure none of them ran off into the forest chasing something. The mares did not find the details the fillies were sharing amusing in any way, shape, or form.

Applejack dragged Apple Bloom off as they reached the Sweet Apple Acres homestead, while Rarity took Sweetie Belle with her once they reached town. Rarity had a busy evening planned, she told them, as she not only intended an in-depth discussion with Sweetie Belle, but also planned on making sandals for them all based on the outlines they had made of their feet before returning through the portal. The glare she gave the filly while saying this promised the discussion was not going to be pleasant.

Auntie Holiday led Scootaloo off with the promise that she and Auntie Loft were going to having a serious discussion with her after dinner, as well!

All three fillies had looked back at Harry with expressions of dread as their sisters and relative dragged them by the ear towards their homes — with a constant “ow, ow, ow, leggo, ow.” All he could do was give them each a mournful look of encouragement. It didn’t seem to help much.

Harry watched and marvelled as Twilight unerringly walked from the tree-portal into town and to the castle, opened the door, held it for him, and closed it, and then walked into the kitchen and started to fix the three of them a cup of tea, all without once taking her muzzle out of the almanac or making a single misstep. And making notes the entire while. It was quite impressive, actually. He wondered if it was just that her large eyes, in comparison to his as a person and not a pony, gave that much better peripheral vision? Or was she using her magic on an extremely low level that kept her from walking into anything or anypony? He would have to try that later.

While Harry and Twilight sat at the table drinking their tea, Spike decided he needed to fix dinner and bustled around the kitchen with occasional stops to take a sip of his tea (sweetened with sapphire dust instead of sugar).

Only after eating dinner did Twilight put aside her research. “A very interesting book,” she said. “Mostly statistics, but the section on your history was quite illuminating, the sports was not.” She paused and looked at Harry. “Your people are quite violent. According to this,” she tapped the book with a hoof, “Your home country, Great Britain, has had 162 wars in 278 years. It hasn’t had a peace that lasted longer than six years in that entire time. As a whole, it looks like the countries of your home-world have been at non-stop war for the last three thousand years.”

Harry nodded. He knew they fought a lot, but that still was appalling considering that Equestria had been without a war for almost a thousand years — until the last two years, in fact. Although all the Equestrian fighting involved villains and not other countries trying to invade, except Chrysalis and the changlings, of course.

“But the medicine advances they talk about — blood transfusions, in vitreo conception, vaccines, operating on foetuses . . . are mind-boggling. And your technology — you’ve been to the Moon!” She shivered in excitement. “I can hardly wait to see it all for myself!” She was trotting in place, again, and her eyes were glowing slightly at the prospects of the things she could learn.

“Twilight, focus,” Spike said sharply. He pointed a claw across the table, “Harry!” Now that she was out of the current binge-reading there was hope he could get her back on track. “Hogwarts! Remember?”

She gave Spike a blank look, then glanced at Harry. She blinked and Harry could see her mentally shifting from one topic to another. “Oh, yes.” She blushed. “Sorry about that, Harry. It’s just,” she glanced down at the book, “you know, knowledge!”

She shook herself. She pulled a checklist out of her saddlebag. “Alright. Go to Guard Post at the edge of the Everfree? Check. Check in with the Guards? Check. Explain why we’re there? Check. Request more guards? Check. Follow Harry to Portal? Check. Find Portal location? Check. Survey area around portal for dangers? Check. The portal still exists? Check. The portal is still accessible? Check. The portal hasn’t moved? Check. The portal can still be used? Check. . . .”

Harry and Spike sighed. This would take a few minutes for her to catch up.

“. . . Return to Library? Check. Fix tea? Check. Spike fixes dinner? Check. Eat? Check. Start new list for the evening?” A blank scroll floated out of her saddlebag and unrolled beside her. “Check.” She set her list down and sighed, satisfied at completing her list. The quill started scribbling in the new scroll.

“Alright, Harry, we know you can travel safely back and forth. The next question is, do you want to go to this Hogwarts school?” She looked at him intently.

Harry looked up, startled. “Go to the school? Why would I want to go there? I like it better here. Besides, what would it cost? How would I pay for things? Where would I live?”

She nodded, her quill flying across the scroll. “All good questions, I’ll check with Princess Celestia about those things. As for why? Why, to learn about your world’s magic!” Her grin had a slightly manic look to it, wider than normal with her eyes also a bit wider. Her in-place trotting picked up speed. “Just think of all the things you can learn there that we don’t know here! A whole new world of magic! You’ll be able to teach me so much when you come back. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime!” Her grin now stretched almost to her ears.

He stared at her a moment. “Do I have to?” he asked softly.

She stared at him as if he had grown a second head. Spike was staring, too.

“I mean,” he continued just as softly, staring at the table-top, “I’ll be gone for nine months.” He drew a circle on the table-top with a hoof. “I’ll have to leave my . . . friends. I’ll be there and . . . Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom will be here.” He looked up at her. “I don’t want to leave them. They’re special. I’ve never had friends before.”

Twilight leaned back. This was a completely unexpected development. Harry could see that turning down the opportunity to learn new magic — the magic of his home world — left her perplexed. She couldn’t understand it.

She stared at him. He sighed again, looking at the table-top dejectedly. She had told him last fall all about how Princess Celestia had taken her under her wing as her personal student when she was only eight, younger than him, and he would be eleven next week if he had calculated things right.

But Twilight hadn’t left everything behind, her parents had been right there in Canterlot. She had spent many evenings with them after they got off work and she finished her studies. Not to mention the family outings on weekends and holidays. As she had gotten older and the Princess had taken a more active role in her education, she had moved into the castle and visited her parents and brother on weekends, whenever she wanted. And he knew this.

He would be leaving everything behind. He didn’t want to do that. He was loved here, he knew it. He didn’t need to learn magic back there, he was perfectly content with the magic here. And his friends were here, not there.

Besides, she had said she would never force him to go back. Unless that was a lie. He felt the beginnings of panic rear up.

After a few moments, her expression slowly changed from puzzled to contemplation, to understanding. She smiled reassuringly at the colt. “No, Harry,” she softly, her affection clear in her voice, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” She paused, thinking. “Perhaps we can ask the ponies at Hogwarts if your filly friends can go with you. Then you wouldn’t be alone.” She sidled up to him and wrapped a wing around him, cuddling him.

Harry looked up at her hopefully. “Really?” If the girls came with him, well, then, he wouldn’t care where he was. As long as it wasn’t with the Dursleys.

She shrugged, still smiling, “We can only ask. When we send your reply, we can state in it that you will only attend if your friends can, too.”

“But they’re not unicorns, will they be able to do magic?”

Twilight laughed. “Pegasi certainly have magic, how do you think they fly and buck clouds? And earth ponies make things grow! That’s certainly magical. You know that!

“And if the school says no, then you stay here.”

Harry ran a hoof through his mane, thinking. “What will Applejack, Holiday, Lofts, and Rarity say? What if they say no?”

Twilight hummed to herself a moment. “I’m sure that I can convince them to let the fillies go with you.”

Slowly he nodded. Right. When a Princess, one of the rulers of your homeland, asks a favour, few are willing to refuse. “Okay.” Getting the girls to agree would be easy — all he had to say was ‘we might get our cutie marks.’ Plus they would jump at the chance to see his world without having to sneak past their relatives all the time. They were especially interested in seeing those things called films. If they were there officially, they’d have money and could do things like that. He wondered what they would think of a human amusement park.

“Spike,” Twilight said, interrupting him cleaning the dishes, “Would you take down a message for Princess Celestia?”

“Sure thing!” the young drake said hopping down from his stool and waddling over to the table. He pulled a quill and blank scroll from Twilight’s saddlebags.

Dear Princess Celestia,

Harry and the fillies, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle, were kind enough to show me, Applejack, Holiday, Rarity, and the Guards the location of the portal. It was right where we thought it should be! To open the portal you first have to want to go to Little Whinging, and then step through. That’s why we didn’t find it! We were looking for a portal, not a portal-to-Little-Whinging (see enclosed notes and drawings, Appendix A).

It’s a lovely world! The forest around the portal is welcoming and quiet, although the air has a very mild but distinct taste of badly burnt cooking oil. After a few moments, though, I didn’t notice it anymore. Harry says there are no dangerous wild animals anywhere nearby. We took a short walk of about fifty celestials to the park where he said his cousin accosted him last year. Based on preliminary measurements the distance measured as a “mile” in the “almanac” is about a thousand celestials, and a “kilometre” is about 700 celestials (see detailed notes and drawings, Appendix B).

While we were there a car, an enclosed conveyance for carrying ponies, drove by. It had neither ponies pulling nor magic moving it, and made quite a bit of noise! Nothing too objectionable, but we could easily hear it from over several hundred celestials. It was also made entirely of some shiny metal and had glass windows completely encircling it (for sketches and details of the car, see Appendix C).

One important discovery I have made is that their “feet” are extremely sensitive and the smallest pebble or thorn can bring instant pain. Shoes, as Harry has told us before, are a requirement (see enclosed drawing of the sandals Sweetie Belle made for them, Appendix D)!

In the park we saw two adults watching their children play on the swings and in a sandbox. As Harry has said about his people, they were all wearing clothes that completely covered them from neck to knees for the “girls” (fillies) and the “boys” (colts) wore shirts with trousers that were either very short or reached to their feet. They all wore shoes (see enclosed notes and drawings of both the shoes and the play-park equipment, Appendix E).

On the subject of Harry attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he has decided that he will not attend the school by himself. He sees Equestria as his home and has little interest in leaving. In addition, spending nine months away from here, bereft of his friends — when he has never had friends before — is not something he desires to do. However, he has said that if his friends, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle, were allowed to attend then he would be willing to enrol with them.

We intend to ask about that possibility when we send his letter to them.

I can hardly wait to hear what he can tell me about their magic! This is just so exciting! (See Appendix F for miscellaneous drawings and details about the other things we saw while there.)

Your Faithful Student

Twilight Sparkle

After watching Spike incinerate the missive with its accompanying scrolls, Harry sat back and thought about what this really meant. Up to now, he hadn’t had the time to dwell on what it might actually mean to return to Earth — he no longer considered it his home. Home was here, in Equestria, with his filly friends. Learning what magic could do there might be interesting, it might be fun, but he could learn magic here. It was fun here. He would never be as powerful or as good at it as Twilight, but if you had all the spells you needed to do what you wanted, why did you need to know more?

“Twilight?” he said quietly, “would you teach me the Book Manifestation Spell?”

“Hmm?” came the tinny reply. She was already into the almanac.

“The Book Manifestation Spell?” he repeated, louder.

A moment later, she was back. She looked down at him for a moment, frowning. “Why?”

He looked up at the ceiling, choosing his words carefully, “If I’m going to learn Earth’s magic at that school, I won’t have such a good teacher as you doing it, so I’ll need to study harder to learn the stuff.” He dropped his gaze back to her. “At least, based on what I remember of my primary teachers, you’re much better than they were. You care more. You’re more patient.

“Which means it’s easier to learn from you. And you won’t be there to teach me or to answer my questions. So, I need some way to study better, to really understand what the book is trying to tell me. And you’ve told me ‘you’d be amazed what you can pick up when you’re actually in a book.’”

She blushed at his praise. “Well, I’m not sure if you can do it. It is a fairly complicated spell compared to the ones most colts your age can cast.” She stopped and smiled at him, “But your levitation, teleportation, and illusionary spells are coming along nicely. I don’t see why we can’t see if you can master it.”

A book flew off a shelf and landed in front of them, opening to a page near the middle. “Here’s the spell,” she said, pointing with a hoof. “Read it and let me know when you’ve got it.”

18 — Preparations

She had reviewed the Book Manifestation Spell’s structure twice with Harry when Spike suddenly belched out a flame. They were all surprised to see not only a scroll, but a book, land in front of him. “Look, Twilight,” Spike said excitedly, “Princess Celestia has already answered!” He ran over to the two of them with both items.

Dear Twilight, Our Faithful Student,

We are pleased to hear that you have located the portal to Harry Potter’s home world, Earth, and verified that it is stable and two-way. Your announcement has stirred up quite a bit of interest in the Magical and Social Research communities! We doubt any of them will sleep tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or the night after that . . . .

Since Harry Potter’s arrival last year We have been studying and debating the proper course of actions to take in the event of the portal’s eventual discovery. The book and magazine you provided today will be a big help to our researchers, in that regard.

A battalion of Royal Engineers and a company of Royal Guards will arrive in Ponyville tomorrow to establish a fortified perimeter around the portal to protect it from the denizens of the Everfree Forest. They will begin building a permanent port-of-entry for travel to and from this new world. They will also be building similar structures, on a smaller scale, in Harry Potter’s world, at the appropriate time.

Four Guard squads have been dispatched to the portal tree to relieve the Guards posted there and to set up a proper rotation. They should arrive within the hour.

We had not intended to reveal Ourselves this quickly, if ever, to the inhabitants of this new world until after trained scouts had studied it and rendered their opinions. Unfortunately, the letter delivered by owl to Harry Potter — which must be answered in a timely fashion — has forced Our Hooves in this matter.

We would not presume to prevent Harry Potter from getting the education he needs from his people. On the other hoof, neither would We presume to force Harry Potter to return there against his will. Please relay to Harry Potter how important We feel continuing his education in his home world will be, both to him, personally, as a growing colt, and to Equestria as a whole, in learning about the magic in his world.

Should Harry Potter decide to pursue his education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, We wish to assure him that any and all expenses he might incur will be fully covered by Us.

Harry Potter has Our full support, both emotionally and physically, no matter which course he decides to take.

We understand that Harry Potter has expressed reservations about attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by himself and has said that he will only attend if his filly friends are allowed to attend as well. We well understand his reasoning, and, again, support him fully. If any of the fillies wish to attend with him, and the Headmistress at the School allows it, then We will provide them with the same support we do Harry Potter. His and their attendance at this school will help establish Equestria’s presence in this new world, and he and they, and the fillies’ families, will have Our gratitude for assisting us in this endeavour.

Should Harry Potter decide to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with his filly friends, We wish you and your friends to accompany them to ensure their well-being and safety while they are acquiring their school supplies and taking their first steps into this new world (Naturally, you and your friends will be compensated for the time spent away from your and their professions here in Equestria).

If, at any time, you feel the situation is too dangerous for the colt and fillies, or they feel threatened for any reason, you have full authority to cancel the arrangements with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and return them and yourselves to Equestria, posthaste.

We have appointed Our nephew, Prince Blueblood, as Our Ambassador to this new world. Render what aid you can to establish a proper Embassy in this new world, secondary to assisting Harry Potter and his filly friends until he is situated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of course.

Once they have arrived at the school and arrangements made for their housing, you may return to your normal duties here in Equestria, at your leisure. A pony at the embassy will be appointed permanent liaison to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry while Harry Potter and the fillies are in attendance, and arrangements will be made for regular communications between them and their families.

In this endeavour you have Our full confidence and We grant you the authority to act in Our Names without reservation. Your Word is Our Law.

The book accompanying this letter is a proposed outline for establishing peaceful relations with Earth, as well as possible responses should peaceful relations not be possible.

Perhaps Harry Potter will have some ideas on how to take those first steps?

We look forward to your letters telling Us of your adventures and friendships in this new world.

Princess Celestia,

Princess Luna.

Harry stared at Twilight as she stared at the book. He could almost see her eyes glazing over at the prospects of what the book entailed. Spike sighed, anticipating a sleepless night.

Twilight shook her head and looked around the library, thinking. “Spike? Would you go tell Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and Pinkie Pie that I would like them to meet me here with the other mares for breakfast tomorrow so we can plan? Harry, would you relay the same message to Holiday, Lofts, and Scootaloo? I’ll do the same for Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Fluttershy. Tell them this is at the Princesses’ request.” After they nodded their understanding, she teleported away, probably to Fluttershy’s first.

Seconds later, Harry was knocking on the door where Scootaloo lived. Harry could hear a loud voice inside. Lofty opened the door, and the voice became clearer. It was Holiday giving Scootaloo a right proper scolding.

“Harry Potter,” said Lofty, “What brings you here?” The scolding in the background cut off and hoof-steps headed their way.

He scuffed his hoof on the porch, feeling guilty for getting Scootaloo in trouble. He looked up the Scootaloo’s aunt. “Twilight Sparkle would like you, Holiday, and Scootaloo to come over tomorrow for breakfast. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have a project they want you to help her with. It has to do with the portal and Scootaloo going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world on the other side with me.”

Scootaloo had him in a tight hug, “You want me to go with you to learn magic!?”

He shrugged and hugged her back, “Well, yeah, you didn’t think I would leave you, AB, and Sweetie behind, did you? You all have magic of a sort. I’m going to put in my letter that if you all can’t go then I won’t, either. I’d rather be here with you than there without.” She squeezed him even harder.

Her aunts were exchanging looks behind Scootaloo and Harry could see them mouthing “Princesses?” to each other with incredulous expressions. He smirked. Yeah, like they would ever say no to a request from Princess Celestia. And while Twilight was a princess, she didn’t yet have the impact and seriousness that a thousand plus year old ruler did.

Reluctantly, Scootaloo let him go. He noticed her eyes seemed a bit moist, but thought it probably was from the scolding she was getting when he arrived. “Well, anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waved goodbye, and then turned and headed back to the library. He really needed to learn that Book Manifestation spell.

He scrunched up his face. Books. School books. He had saddlebags, but most kids didn’t use rucksacks at school in Little Whinging. The Dursleys had never allowed him one — and Dudley had made sure his castoffs were too torn and damaged for Harry to use.

He didn’t know if the students at Hogwarts carried rucksacks. And carrying books was always difficult — well, only because Dudley kept knocking them away from Harry every chance he could get. If only he could carry his books and school supplies without needing to carry them! Unless he could carry them in his magic . . . his magic was good enough to carry the books, but he wasn’t sure about adding the paper and pens and gloves and the other things mentioned in the letter.

He spent the rest of the evening trying to study the Book Manifestation spell while Twilight repeatedly interrupted him to ask his opinion about the Princesses’ plans for contacting Earth authorities. After his first answer, “Find a really good solicitor,” the rest became, “I don’t know” and “Ask the solicitor.” It did sound like the Princesses had been quite thorough in their plans, with contingences on top of contingencies.

The most optimistic plan had the British Government treating them as honoured guests and setting up exchanges of scientists and magicians to explore each other’s world and societies, and seeking common grounds for trade and the exchange of knowledge. The next most likely was open hostility by the British military and viewing the Equestrians as an invading force intent on conquering them. The worst assumed a world-wide war erupting as the various countries of the world fought Britain and strove to seize the portal. In the last case, assuming that there was no hope of peaceful relations, the Princesses planned to seal the portal from both ends. And there were another dozen variations on each of those outcomes.

There was even a plan to attempt to send the portal into the sun if the portals couldn’t be closed and the humans refused to take no for an answer. Nothing says “we don’t want to deal with your crap” better than moving the portal exit from a somewhat peaceful forest to the twenty-million-degree heart of a star.

The truly worrying thing was the address on Harry’s letter. Did the Earth people now know about Equestria? Plus, the letter gave no indication on where the school was or how to get to it. They would have to ask for that information, which meant another letter would be sent to them, or perhaps a person would actually visit. If they could provide a location, a home, as it were, on the other side, maybe they could keep the secret of Equestria’s portal safe for a little longer?

When Harry and Spike went up to bed, Twilight was still studying the book and making her own branching checklist on what to do and when — it was already taking up the entire kitchen table after only a few minutes. Harry thought it would probably be the size of Ponyville when she finished — and folded into a single book that only showed the relevant branch at any one time.

Harry did manage to get the Book Manifestation spell to work. It only lasted a few seconds, unfortunately. But he was in the book. And once he was in it and started looking around before he was ejected from it, he quickly realized that he did understand the spell better! It was as if the author herself was talking to him, showing him things about the spell that mere words couldn’t convey. The next time would be much easier.

The next morning everyone gathered in the castle’s dining room. The fillies, after scarfing down their breakfast, stood beside Harry. They looked very happy at the prospect of going with him and openly exploring this new-to-them world. And the opportunity to do so without getting into trouble at home made it just so much sweeter.

Princess Twilight was wearing her crown to impress upon everyone the importance of the issue. With numerous interruptions by Spike and Applejack to keep her on track, Twilight brought the other mares up to speed on the current situation.

“So,” Applejack said, “The Princesses want us to go to this, Earth, Harry’s old home, and make sure he and the fillies are safely enrolled in this Hogwarts magic school?”

Twilight nodded, “And help Prince Blueblood set up an embassy.”

“And they really think Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is important enough that Harry and the fillies should go there?” asked Rarity, with a worried glance at her sister.

Twilight nodded, again, “Well, if not for the letter to Harry, even if we had found the portal we wouldn’t have suspected that there were ponies there who could do magic. The only way we have to learn about that magic is for Harry to go to the school.” She glanced at Harry. “And he won’t go without his friends,” she said, looking at him with a soft smile.

The fillies leaned a little harder against Harry.

“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash, dismissively, “I don’t see the problem. It’s a school! It can’t be all that dangerous. They’ll be just as safe there as if they were going to the Ponyville Schoolhouse. Safer, even, because they won’t be anywhere near the Everfree Forest!”

“Not to mention any of the crazy things that have happened in Ponyville the last two years,” mumbled Rarity.

“Or their Cutie Mark Crusades,” finished Applejack.

At that declaration the three fillies tried to look as innocent as possible to their respective relatives while those relatives were giving the stink-eye to the fillies! Spike, even though he wasn’t in their line-of-sight, still took a step to the side behind Twilight to partially hide from the irritated relatives. Unlike the Cutie Mark Crusaders, his sense of self-preservation was working just fine!

“And,” Twilight added soothingly, “If it’s anything like Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, the students are always under close supervision at all times with classes of only a dozen or so at a time and plenty of one-on-one sessions with trained experts. And if there are dangerous activities planned, I’m sure they have extra staff on hoof to protect the students and take special safety precautions.

“And it’s the opportunity of a lifetime! Just think of what they’ll learn about these humans and how to interact with other species.” She sighed and stared off into the distance with a wistful expression, her hooves twitched with the desire to stand and start trotting excitedly. “The World Almanac Harry showed me says the British Library had over ten million books five years ago. It would take one-hundred and fourteen years, one month, twenty-six days, and sixteen hours to read every book if I read ten books an hour!” Her gaze drifted down to look at the others, “and they’re adding tens of thousands more books every year!” She sighed deeply as she again stared blankly at a wall. Harry was certain she was about to start drooling.

It was clear to all that Twilight would have swapped places with Harry in an instant, if she thought she could get away with it.

Applejack and Rarity exchanged worried looks. Dragging Twilight from the Royal Library was hard enough when they visited Canterlot. If they were foolish enough to let her walk into this British Library, they might never get her back to Equestria!

“Twilight!” Spike said sharply.

She startled, then blushed. “Right.” The purple alicorn looked at Rarity, Scootaloo’s aunts, and Applejack. “So, if the school agrees, will you let the fillies go with Harry as Princess Celestia has requested?”

If there ever was a cue for the diabetes-inducing Cuteness of Doom look that the fillies had perfected, Harry thought that was it. The three fillies turned to their respective elders with their moist, wide-eyed faces, trembling lower lips, hopefully canted ears, with one hoof ever-so-slightly-lifted as if about to reach out, begging. Even that cold-hearted monster King Sombra would have caved to their cuteness.

Not that it was really needed, Harry thought, Princess Celestia asking them to do something was a guaranteed yes answer, no matter how much the mares might be reluctant to say so.

First to fall was Rarity, who huffed and sighed, looked over to Twilight, and reluctantly nodded. Then Scootaloo’s aunts gave in, with Lofty nudging Holiday and both giving a nod to Twilight. Applejack held out the longest, but seeing that the others had capitulated, she knew she couldn’t hold her sister back. She sighed, “Okay, Twilight. If the school lets the fillies in then I won’t stand in the way.”

The three fillies abandoned their posts and charged their relatives, giving them fierce hugs and declaring, “Thank you, thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise!” all while hoof-pumping their fore-legs behind their relatives’ backs.

After putting her sister down, Rarity, said, “What next, Twilight?”

Twilight whipped her checklist out of her saddlebags — not that she needed to see it, she had, after all, memorized it as she wrote it — and said, “Let’s see . . . that’s done, that’s done, that’s done . . . ,” She checked off over two dozen items. “Okay, now we need to check-in with the Guard at the portal. They should have the gold and gems we’ll need to exchange for bits on the other side, pounds, they call them.

“The overall plan is to find a lawyer, uh, a solicitor Harry says, who can then help us exchange our gold and gems. With her help we need to buy up as much property around the portal on their side as possible. That will also give us housing and a buffer zone.

“Because we want to keep this as quiet as possible until we are officially established as an embassy and can announce ourselves to the world, we’ll use one of the homes we purchase as our official residence and not mention that we are from another dimension. We’ll pretend we are from somewhere else in their world and only recently moved to Little Whinging — although we’ll have to tell the solicitor the truth. We’ll probably have to bring her through the portal to convince her we’re not crazy.

“Once we have a house, Harry and the fillies will move in and we’ll send the owl with Harry’s answer. While we wait for a reply, Harry can show us what he knows about his world and we can assist Prince Blueblood in establishing an official embassy.

“Any questions?”

“Where is this school?” asked Holiday.

“That’s one of the questions we’ll have to ask in the letter Harry sends, as well as where do we purchase the items mentioned in their letter, how we get to the school, and where we need to live for them to easily go to and from the school.”

“Sounds good,” declared Rainbow Dash, “Let’s get going!” she darted out the balcony window in a rainbow-coloured blur. A moment later, she coasted back in. “Uh, where’re we going first?”

The walk to the Guard Post was uneventful. Twilight told Holiday and Lofty, “If you want, you can visit Earth later, after we’ve secured a hoof-hold. Today, we’ll just be popping in and out as the guards secure the area around the portal. And practice walking in our new forms. Nothing very exciting.”

Scootaloo’s two aunts appeared grateful for a chance to beg off going with them. They were not explorers, after all. And with the guards and the Mane Six along, their charge, Scootaloo, would be quite safe. They separated from the group as they reached the edge of Ponyville. “We’ll see you tonight, right, Scootaloo?” Scootaloo nodded to her aunts and gave them a brief wave.

The plan was that they were exploring only during the days until they had a house on the other side. Then they would move there for a short while before returning after getting their school supplies. Assuming the school agreed to the fillies attending, that is.

The former simple guard post was a beehive of activity. A mass of earth ponies and unicorns were working at improving the trail separating Sweet Apple Acres from the Everfree, turning it into a real paved road such as one would find in Canterlot. Another group on the other side of the post was establishing a runway for the pegasi-drawn chariots bringing building materials and more workers that were still landing wherever they could find room. Two other groups were on opposite sides of Harry’s trail into the Everfree, removing the trees to make an opening at least two hundred celestials wide in its place. A steady stream of ponies were going into the forest while an equally steady stream brought out downed trees and other debris.

Meanwhile dozens of armoured pegasi were flying overhead and armoured unicorns and earth ponies were patrolling the perimeter of the forest.

Even Twilight seemed taken aback at the scale of the activity.

As they approached, a Guard supervising one of the road crews noticed them and came over immediately. “Good morning, Princess Twilight Sparkle, I am Major Smoky,” she said. She eyed the colt, fillies, and mares. “We’ve been expecting you. Right this way, please.”

She turned and led them over to the Guard Post and then inside. “Lieutenant Colonel Shining Charge, Ma’am! Princess Twilight Sparkle and her companions are here.”

A large table dominated the main room. The pegasus Guard standing behind table looked up from the papers piled on it and nodded. “Dismissed,” she said, returning the other’s salute before turning her attention to Twilight. “Have you read the alien contact protocols book, your Highness?” she asked.

“Yes, last night,” Twilight said, “I’ve prepared a checklist . . . ,” which she then spent the next fifteen minutes explaining to the poor Lieutenant Colonel.

“Excellent,” said the Royal Guard, narrowly getting a word in edgewise as the alicorn stopped to take a breath. “We haven’t breeched the portal yet. Word that you’ve already explored a bit yesterday has the scouts waiting for your feedback before proceeding. How serious an issue is it for shoes?”

Startled at the change of subject, Twilight said, “Very serious. Even though we only went a few hundred paces in the forest there, the skin on the back side of our pastern and cannon bones was very scratched up and sore by the time we returned.”

Harry spoke up. “Shoes are a requirement. While not having shoes isn’t a safety issue once you leave the forest, not wearing shoes will get your scouts immediately noticed. There are even some businesses where they will be refused entry if they aren’t wearing shoes.” The Lieutenant Colonel looked at Harry a moment, then nodded.

She looked up at Twilight. “We’ll need you to conduct our scouts across so they can take measurements to make these shoes. We’ve had seamstresses working overnight making clothes using that magazine you provided as a guide.”

Harry wasn’t used to adults actually listening to him, especially an adult he did not know. On the other hand, the ponies were different from people. He decided to try again, “Um, that might actually be a problem.”

The Lieutenant Colonel looked at Harry, “Why?”

“Well,” Harry said hesitantly, “That magazine is a fancy fashion magazine and most of the clothes in it are things regular people wouldn’t wear, only rich people.” He had seen his aunt spend hours wishing she could purchase this or that in it, but they didn’t have the pounds to spare to do it. He paused a second, trying to think of how to put it — the ponies didn’t normally wear clothes. “It’s like, can you imagine taking Canterlot nobles in full Grand Galloping Gala dress and dropping them into a small town and telling them to blend in? How fast would the locals notice them?”

The Lieutenant Colonel leaned back and sat down. “Hmm. Yes, I see your point.” She turned to a Guard pony standing by the door. “Get the scouts here, and the clothes they have for the other side.” She turned back to Harry. “I’ll need you to take a look and tell me how much we have to redo.” He looked up at Twilight. “We’ll only get one chance to do this right. I don’t want to ruin it on something as simple as the wrong tie!”

Harry tuned out the discussion that followed as Twilight informed the Lieutenant Colonel of how she thought the operation should be conducted once they reached the other side. He had heard all this the night before. Instead, he walked to the table and propped himself up against it so he could see if there was anything interesting. Covering most of the table was a map. From the markings, even though they were upside down, he could tell that it was a map of the area around here. As he studied the map the fillies joined him on either side.

He was stunned at the plans. They planned to enclose the portal and the path to it in a huge wall! Inside that wall, the portal and tree were in the middle of a large space with a small drop-off around it masking several small enclosures connected by tunnels. After a moment of staring, he realized that the dotted lines leading from those enclosures to the portal were labelled “fields of fire.” They were planning for the possibility that an attacking force might come through the portal and had prepared a military response for it! Harry wasn’t too sure how effective that would be in the face of Earth’s modern firearms.

On the larger external wall were walkways and fortified towers to keep the Everfree forest denizens at bay. Harry noted they were designed as attack platforms towards the portal, as well, although that aspect was carefully hidden behind walls marked facades.

Partway down the path, and separating the portal from the path to the former Guard Post, was a thick wall dozens of celestials thick. It had a gate at each end of the path through it. Lining both sides of the wall and the gap in-between were offensive military platforms. If someone came through the portal, and somehow subdued the military out there, they would still have to go through the one gate and fight off the new Guards behind their fortified emplacements while trying to make it through the second gate. And the same would be true if someone on this side tried to force their way to the portal.

Any offensive force that tried to attack through the portal would take heavy losses, even with modern equipment, Harry realized. And that wasn’t even taking into account how effective magic was on this side.

Outside those gates, but still between the walls keeping the forest at bay, were several buildings: two military barracks, a “processing” building, an administration building, two apartment buildings, a hotel, and an exercise field. All the building were connected underground, so if one building started to fall into enemy hands, the occupants could be evacuated to another. He noted at least two tunnels that led into the forest outside the walls as last-ditch heavily fortified escape routes.

It was a massive operation, and even with the numbers of workers they had seen so far it would take weeks of hard work to complete.

19 — The Bare Necessities

Author's Notes:

YEAH!
Made it to Featured Stories (Jun. 25, 2018)! Here's a bonus chapter this week!

A,N. — Regarding underwear, what 11-year-old boy would know how to explain a bra to someone who has never seen or needed one? Or why women wear them? (and how many 11-year-old’s have ever even heard of the pencil-test?)

Ponies began filing into the Lieutenant Colonel’s office at the guard-post, interrupting Harry’s study of the plans.

The Lieutenant Colonel explained the issue at hoof. “So, pull out your clothes and we’ll see what Harry Potter has to say about them,” she concluded.

Harry immediately noticed that they were all unicorns. It kind of made sense. Pegasi couldn’t fly without their wings, and earth ponies, while exceptionally strong, would still be at a disadvantage. At least unicorns could still cast magic, even if it was weaker than normal, as Twilight had discovered with the few test spells she had cast yesterday.

Two of the ten ponies had business suits that were acceptable. Unfortunately, the scouts who had them were mares and the suits were not appropriate for them. They swapped with two of the stallions. Three of the clothing sets would be good for fancy dress dinner parties in Cambridge, but completely out of place in Little Whinging. Two were evening suits and, again, unsuitable for everyday wear in Little Whinging. One set was beachwear. The final dress was perfect for a casual upper-middle class woman — what Petunia would have considered appropriate for normal house-wife wear in public.

Fortunately, Rarity had brought along the issue of Vogue and Harry was able to quickly point out several acceptable combinations for casual or business casual in Little Whinging and most of London. Or at least, what he thought would be appropriate based on what he had overheard and seen his aunt gossiping about.

With Twilight’s help Rarity retrieved several bolts of cloth and her sewing supplies and they set off to the portal with several additional seamstresses. Any alterations would be made on the other side where she could actually see both the clothes, the pony-person they were to fit, and what she needed to tell the other seamstresses to do to accomplish that.

The area around the portal was even busier, if that was possible, than the path to it and at the Guard Post. There was already a large clearing around the portal tree and unicorns and earth ponies were removing tree stumps while the armoured and working pegasi flew cover overhead and trimmed branches from trees still standing. The beginnings of a wooden platform around the base of the tree was in place, protecting the roots while ensuring that rainwater reached the tree and kept it alive. Obviously, the pony forest experts were unsure of how the tree affected the portal, so they were not going to take any risks to its health.

Soldiers of all three tribes patrolled the perimeter.

Rarity, at first, spent her time on the preparation platform on Equestria’s side of the portal, fashioning sandals for the mares and altering their clothes. This last was especially important for the mares. The concept of breasts being up front and so . . . prominent . . . caught the mares by surprise. Rarity was thrilled at the prospect of fashioning clothes that took advantage of a feature normally completely ignored in pony society.

Harry was rather surprised at how . . . big . . . the variation was in that respect for the mares. Pinkie Pie was remarkably normal while Fluttershy, like Applejack, was surprisingly large. Rainbow Dash was the smallest of the group in that respect, but was by no means what people would call flat.

For the stallions, Rarity made sandals but put covers over them to make them look like shoes. As long as you didn’t actually look at them, they passed inspection. And, compared to the mares, their clothes were simple; a few alterations to make them fit better, remove some of the fancier details, and the four stallions were good to go.

This required a lot of back and forth traffic through the portal, though, because they were unsure if casting magic on the Earth side would attract attention. Fortunately, magic cast on the Equestrian side carried through to the Earth side.

One thing that Harry had forgotten to mention to the adults was that human hair colours were very bland by comparison — and Twilight hadn’t known any better. Fortunately, for the unicorn scouts this was not a problem as they used a simple colour change spell to make their hair either brown or black. Twilight took care of Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy. Rainbow Dash refused. Harry interrupted before the argument could get too loud, “Excuse, me? But there are some people who dye their hair various colours. While Rainbow Dash’s is unusual, it isn’t impossible. People will just think she’s rebelling against her parents or something. One person with a weird hair colour is not that unusual, but a whole group will attract a lot of attention.”

For some reason, Pinkie Pie’s spell failed after only a few minutes. They just had to hope it wouldn’t make them that much more noticeable.

Twilight did have a different question for Harry, “Where did those glasses come from?”

“Oh, I’ve always worn glasses. I can only clearly see things when they’re close.”

“But you can see just fine in Equestria!”

“Actually, I can see better in Equestria than I can here with glasses.”

Applejack bumped the alicorn before the new project could completely capture her attention, “Twilight, focus!”

“Oh!” Twilight blushed. “Of course.” She looked at Harry, “But we should have your eyes checked here when we have a chance, to make sure the prescription is accurate. We wouldn’t want to send you to Hogwarts with the wrong glasses. Not to mention getting those broken frames fixed.”

Harry and the fillies spent the rest of the day in the playpark showing the Mane Six and the scouts how to walk and maintain their balance. The scouts, it seemed, had been practicing walking on their hind legs for a year, now, and quickly adapted to their new forms. They found the playpark’s swings, slides, and climbing bars especially interesting and useful in practicing with their new hands and learning to keep their balance. Fortunately, no one noticed that none of the women or girls had ever heard of underwear, except in the vaguest of terms from Harry.

Harry was impressed with how quickly they were all adapting, much faster than the fillies had. Even the Mane Six seemed to cope well. Running without tripping over nothing might be a problem for them for a while, but he didn’t expect them to try to outrun any monsters or villains in this world any time soon. It would take a few more days of practice before they were comfortable with their new forms, but they were not so awkward as to draw undue attention.

The parents and children who saw them thought it was wonderful how those well-dressed parents still took the time to play with their children, pretending to clumsiness to let the kids win at the games they played walking and running around the park. A few parents even came over to compliment them on this, which the respective scouts graciously, but confusedly, accepted. Naturally, they did not correct the perceptions of those parents.

The scouts did mention to those parents that they were new to the area and looking to purchase homes. They asked if the parents knew of any that might be for sale, or whose owners were considering selling, as well as the location of any stores or other businesses that the parents could recommend.

Harry and the fillies were quite exhausted by the time sundown approached and they headed back through the portal. Half the scouts, in teams of two, started exploring Little Whinging and wandering up and down the streets to familiarize themselves with the location. The other half returned to the portal and set up a small perimeter around it to watch for predators or any curious humans who might stumble across them.

Harry was amazed the next morning at seeing how much the soldiers had done. Apparently, the construction crews had worked through the night. Most of the trees at the edge of the road were gone and the foundations for the two Everfree Forest walls were well in progress. A crew was installing a tall wooden picket fence between the now-cleared frontage of the Everfree Forest and the paved road they were walking on. The former Guard building now had a sign adorning it, “Portal Check-in,” and a gate beside it and across the path leading to the portal. Harry could see the construction crews laying the foundation for a much larger building to sit astride the path and over the gate.

The Guard at the gate ushered them inside where Lieutenant Colonel Shining Charge once again greeted them. “Good morning, Ladies. I trust you had a good night,” she said, looking as if she certainly had done so. Harry suspected she hadn’t slept at all considering all the work she was supervising. “Prince Blueblood should be here soon with the funds the Princesses have provided for you. My understanding is that you shall be attempting to retain the services of a lawyer to assist us in acquiring the land around the portal?”

“Yes,” said Twilight, “That’s right.”

Harry noticed that behind the Lieutenant Colonel and tacked to the wall was the map from yesterday. It now had various lines in different colours drawn on it. The colours probably indicated the current state of progress on those sections.

A Guard came trotting in. “Sir,” he said, saluting, “Prince Blueblood’s chariot has been sighted and he should be here in a moment.” The Lieutenant Colonel returned the salute and the Guard trotted back out.

Harry discovered a new map as he propped himself against the table. It was of Little Whinging, or at least the streets nearest the portal. The unicorn scouts must have drawn it. He quickly located Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent on either side of Privet Drive. His eyes were drawn to Number Four. The Dursleys were probably still there.

“Is that it?” asked Apple Bloom, looking between him and where he was staring.

“Huh?” he said, looking over at her. Scootaloo was beside her and Sweetie Belle was on his other side.

“Your relatives. The ones you never talk about. Is that where they live?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re shivering.”

He hadn’t noticed, but he was. Red-faced in embarrassment at that, he looked back at the map. “Yes,” he whispered. “That one. Number Four.” He waved his hoof vaguely at the map.

The three fillies carefully examined the map, then looked at each other and nodded.

He sighed. “Look, girls, don’t go there. Don’t do anything. They don’t deserve your attention. The worst thing you can do to them is ignore them, so, just, ignore them.” He looked at the small outline of a building with a number four on it. “Yeah. Ignore them.”

His desire for revenge was still there, but if he never saw them again, it would be too soon. And if he did see them? Well, he had learned quite few magical tricks in Equestria. Some, he knew, Twilight would disapprove of him knowing, much less using.

She kept saying he was a good colt. He wasn’t so sure.

The former narrow path leading from the guard-post to the portal was now a level graded track of packed sand easily wide enough for the ten ponies to walk side-by-side down it. There were clear signs that the raw dirt bordering it on both sides was seeded with grass — small green shoots poked up already, earth-pony magic at work “quickening” plant growth.

Construction crews at several places along the path were installing paving stones on the packed sand. The path would be paved by evening, based on the speed at which they were working. Other crews were working on the walls, grounds, and remaining trees. He could also see the bunkers and trenches they were digging for concealed attack positions bordering the path.

Harry could tell that by the time they were finished the entire area between the walls would look like a carefully groomed park, without a sign that anypony on the path would be under constant surveillance. Its history as a part of the dangerous wild Everfree Forest would be just that, history. Instead, it would have a completely different danger — but only to foes of Equestria.

A series of stakes driven into the ground across the path delineated the foundations for the walls separating the immediate portal area from the rest of the construction. There was a second checkpoint there. Harry could see that the ground around the portal had been contoured so that the tree was centred in a wide raised area at least two hundred paces, about thirty celestials, in diameter. Grass already poked up on it.

A four-pony wide wooden deck with a waist-high railing spiralled once around the portal. Anypony approaching the portal had to walk completely around the tree, making their presence obvious to the Guards watching it. Similarly, anyone leaving would be clearly visible to all the Guards. Or would immediately attract their attention by repeatedly leaping or flying over the railing. Moreover, the wood decking would make sneaking impossible for earth-ponies and most unicorns by amplifying the noise of their hoof-steps. Flying pegasi would give themselves away with their wing noise.

The trees in the area around the portal had been considerably thinned to improve the Guards’ lines of sight. Enough remained to project the ambience of a park instead of a killing field — the Guard’s bunkers would be unnoticeable as slight ripples and rock outcroppings. At regular intervals, except where interrupted by still-standing trees, were very high poles as tall as the trees themselves. Harry wondered what they were for.

Construction ponies were still working on the unfinished spiralling deck leading to the portal.

To one side of the tree at the top of the spiral was a wooden preparation platform that gave the group room to stop and loosely drape their dresses and other clothes about themselves. Then, one at a time, the guards stepped through, followed by the Mane Six, Harry, and finally the fillies.

The other side of the portal was a surprise. Harry stumbled slightly at the sudden change in his balance, and grabbed the handrail that was right there. He kept walking, running his hand along the rail more for reassurance than actual support, as he looked around. He was in a large tent. On this side, too, a wooden deck to protect the tree’s roots had been built. In front of him were the mares, now women, arranging their clothes to a better fit, some in highly inappropriate manners considering the stallions, men, standing around them adjusting their clothes for a better fit.

Some of the women were removing everything and starting over, not just adjusting the belts and shoulder straps. All of the guards were removing the straps from the large soft-cases they had worn as saddlebags in Equestria’s side of the portal. They would now carry them by hand. By design, they looked like standard briefcases but with softer corners.

Originally, the Mane Six had wanted to bring their formal saddlebags. Harry had been able to convince them that most adults in England did not wear rucksacks, and instead they carried briefcases. Harry knew there would be more than a little grumbling over having to use their hands for such a mundane chore. Especially with Applejack carrying the two briefcases that held the gold and gems. Those things were heavy! Not that Applejack seemed to notice.

Harry moved off the short path and pulled his trousers up to fit properly, tucking his shirttail into place. He’d carried his mostly empty rucksack in his mouth. He spit out the strap and slung it over his shoulder. He watched the fillies come through the portal. They were quite used to walking erect now and the transition only caused them a short stumble, just as it had Harry, and none of them fell. They had little to change with their sundresses except to shake their shoulders and make sure to place the straps in positions that were more comfortable.

Prince Blueblood, surprising Harry, seemed to be coping well. Based on what little he had overheard, Blueblood was a bit of a blighter — rude, insufferable, insulting, and obnoxious were only some of the things Harry had overheard the mares call him over the last year. The unicorn had a bored and exasperated expression as Rarity fussed over him — as if she were at fault that the clothes didn’t perfectly fit after coming through the portal.

Because he was to be the Ambassador, he had the fanciest of the clothes — a full suit made of the finest cloth available in Equestria. The mares’ dresses were almost as formal. Their guards were neatly dressed, but more casual.

The problem came when he tried to walk. It wasn’t that he had any great difficulty; it was just that he walked as if something was wrong with his legs — stiff and slightly uncoordinated, just like the scouts and the Mane Six had started out yesterday. It detracted from the dignified image they wanted him to project. Unfortunately, they didn’t have seven or eight hours to run him through the drills the scouts and mares had used to acclimate themselves to their new mode of walking.

Harry thought a moment. “Twilight?” he said. “I think Prince Blueblood needs a cane. It’ll help him walk and look more dignified.”

“A cane?”

“Yeah. A piece of wood that reaches just above his waist. There’s a knob or handle on top that he holds and he uses it to keep his balance and to lean on if he needs the support.”

At Twilight’s request, a scout brought in a branch. With a little trial and error, and several trips through the portal to use her magic, Twilight changed it to end up with a smooth, polished piece of wood with an angled handle at the top. The tip had a small piece of rubber to provide traction on slick surfaces. Blueblood had insisted she decorate the handle with an image of Celestia on one side and Luna on the other.

Prince Blueblood quickly adapted to the cane. “Why this wasn’t arranged before-hoof, I don’t know,” he glared at Twilight as if it were her fault. When she looked down flushing slightly, he surreptitiously winked at Harry and nodded.

Outside the tent was another shock. While all the trees around the portal remained, a certain amount of trimming had taken place, as well as the ground contoured. It all looked natural, thanks to the skills of the earth-ponies, but was radically changed from what Harry and the fillies had come to know. The Guards had carefully trimmed the surrounding trees to allow more light to reach the ground. The additional light explained the presence of the soft carpet of grass that had replaced the forest debris normally scattered around the portal tree.

Staring around carefully as he waited for everypony else to get ready, he spotted what could only be a defensive position a few yards away. Two trees were close together and a large tree had apparently “fallen” so that it formed a barrier at an angle through the trees at about waist high. It ran over fifty feet behind the tent. Below the trunk was a mound of dirt filling the gap between it and the forest floor.

It was only when a Guard moved that Harry realized he was leaning against the trunk. When Harry looked away and then back, he found it quite difficult to find the Guard again, even though he knew where he was. He thought chameleon-magic must be in use. As he carefully looked around, he could see that “fallen” trees and fortuitous placements of large mounds blocked off access to the other side of the tree-portal. The only access to the portal was from the tent-side, and that was restricted to one direction.

A scout led the group to the nearby roadway separating Little Whinging from the playpark and woods. Considering most parents and children would be at the playpark and not watching the road, people were less likely to notice the group of Equestrians exiting the woods there.

Their trip to Little Whinging’s city centre was unremarkable. While they were more formally dressed than the residents were, the mid-morning meant most people were at work or off running errands. And because most unicorns, like earth-ponies, walked virtually everywhere they went, their walk was brisk and easy. The walk also allowed Prince Blueblood to adjust a bit to his cane.

They did have to drag Twilight away from her analysis of the tarmac that was a modern road instead of the cobblestones used in Equestria. Harry finally stopped the flood of questions on where the material came from, how it was treated, how they managed to make it so smooth, and so forth, by saying, “Twilight! There are entire books on the subject!” The rest of the walk was quiet except for occasional exclamations at the cars and lorries they saw, which all the Equestrians watched carefully whenever one went by. Harry was sure their intent study of each made the drivers a bit uncomfortable.

City centre was a bit of a lark, consisting of a single street of a dozen or so businesses, much like Ponyville. There was a Waitrose supermarket and some smaller shops, several restaurants, banks, charity shops, a post office, a number of estate agents, solicitors, betting shops, an insurance broker, and two public houses. The architecture was completely different from what the Equestrians were used to, not to mention the constant flow of lorries and cars. The zebra crossing was another innovation to them — the traffic in Canterlot and the other cities wasn’t zooming along at high-speed as the cars and lorries seemed to be doing — that is, the normal limited in-town cruising speeds for cars and lorries was the equivalent of a full-fledged run by most ponies.

It took a concerted effort by Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity to keep both Twilight and Pinkie Pie out of the various shops they passed. Blueblood rolled his eyes, but kept quiet. He was above that sort of behaviour. His job was to be aristocratic. He could do that much more easily than Twilight, who acted more like the over-enthusiastic bookworm than the near-goddess alicorn that she was.

The first solicitor they found specialized in personal injuries and accidents, so they quickly left. The second specialized in employment law and wills. The third they found by accident. Harry happened to glance up a side street as they walked along High Street looking for the next solicitor’s sign. The sign he saw read “Conveyancing Services, Yueshi & Fuxiao, Solicitors.” Which sounded like exactly what they wanted.

20 — Pocket Money

Solicitor Lin Yueshi, Esquire, looked at the odd group in his office. His gaze lingered on Pinkie Pie’s very pink hair and Rainbow Dash’s spread of colours. Their clothes appeared to make them upper-middle class. Applejack’s undersized Stetson hat seemed to throw him off a bit. He barely noticed Apple Bloom’s pink bow.

“So,” he said softly, “You wish me to procure on your behalf as many properties as possible, centred on the playpark at the end of Magnolia Road?” He cut his eyes to the open briefcases on his desk, one with gold ingots and the other with gems. “After converting these items to pounds because you have no bank accounts or other funds available?”

Twilight nodded happily, “Precisely!”

He stared at them a moment longer, then tilted his head from side to side, peering at their clothes and out the two windows in his corner office. “Alright,” he finally said, “Where’s the camera?”

The Equestrians exchanged puzzled glances — except Pinkie Pie. She suddenly held up a camera. “Right here,” she said, as a brilliant purple flash filled the room.

“Gah! Pinkie!” Twilight said severely, amid the grumbling of the others. Prince Blueblood gave her an intense disapproving glare.

Pinkie ignored them, of course, and handed the solicitor the photograph ejected from her camera.

Harry put his hand over his eyes. The camera, while normal for Equestria, looked like something out of a 1930’s film. By Earth standards, it was an antique. Except it delivered instant pictures.

Blinking at the spots that now edged his vision, just as they did for the Equestrians, the solicitor said, “I mean the telly, for the prank show you’re filming.” He glanced at the picture in his hand and dropped it on the desktop. He gestured at the briefcases, “There’s no way anyone would walk around with a briefcase of gold. It’s far too heavy for a man, much less a woman, to casually carry. The top layer is probably lead with gold paint and everything below it is plastic. And those gems are probably all glass.” He looked intently at Twilight. “No one in their right mind walks around with several million pounds in gems without a massive security detail.”

Prince Blueblood stiffened, as he looked down his nose at the solicitor. “I assure you that both the gold and the gems are genuine! Both came directly from the Castle Vaults.” His refined and cultured accent marked him as definitely an aristocrat. He leaned over and slammed the briefcases’ lids closed. “Take us to a jeweller! That will prove it!” He glanced at Twilight who was nodding in agreement.

Lin studied him carefully for a moment. The man, introduced simply as Blue Blood, had been looking down his nose at Lin during the entire meeting, saying nothing, but his bearing was very much that of an aristocrat. And Harry knew that while it was traditional in British and Chinese families for the men to be in charge, it was clear that Twilight was calling the shots in spite of her obvious youth. The fact that Blueblood had glanced at her after his announcement and checked for her approval proved it, if anyone was watching. Which the solicitor was.

“Alright, let’s do that.” He reached over, closed the lid, and secured it with the odd buckle it used. He grabbed the handle of the briefcase with the gold ingots. Harry could see that the solicitor thought Twilight was bluffing. The man stared, stunned, when he could barely get the briefcase to stand on end.

Applejack tsked, and took the briefcase from him, lifting it with only a minor strain. Then she closed the other briefcase and picked it up. Pinkie was in a corner of the office doing arm-bends with a barbell with weights that had the numbers “40” stamped on them. Seeing that Lin was staring at her, she dropped them to the floor with a resounding — wham! — that indicated the numbers were not fake.

He gave the other Equestrians an outraged look, then turned back to Pinkie Pie. His lips were tight and Harry could see he was about to tear into Pinkie for damaging his office floor. What he saw, though, was nothing except Pinkie Pie smiling innocently at him — no barbells, no damaged floor. He stared, frowning for a moment at where the barbell had hit the floor. With a puzzled look he stepped around his desk and led them into the reception room. “Judy, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

The jeweller picked up the phone and dialled. “Good morning, Charles, what’s the current rate for gold? And the discount? Thanks. I’ll explain later.” He hung up the phone and looked up at his friend.

The Equestrians stared. The thought that information was so easily acquired through such a small device was overwhelming. It was one thing to hear about such a device, and another to see it in action. In addition, he had said he was calling an associate in London, a distance that they knew was over a day’s round-trip away for non-pegasi in Equestria. And even the fastest Pegasus — excluding Rainbow Dash, of course — would take at least an hour, if not two, to make that same round-trip. The convenience of such quick communications, as well as the business and military aspects of it in getting things done, was not lost on any of them.

“I’m not an assayer, Lin, but these,” the jeweller waved his hand at the dozen ingots on his counter and the briefcase beside them, “appear to be twenty-four carat gold. The current rate, with discount, is two hundred pounds a troy ounce. These ingots are one and a eighth ounces, an unusual size, so that makes them . . .” he turned to a calculator and punched the buttons, “two hundred twenty-five pounds each. And there are one thousand and sixty-six, bringing the total to two hundred forty thousand, seven hundred and fifty pounds.” He sighed and took off his glasses. He pulled out a cloth from behind the counter and started cleaning the lenses.

“I can’t buy them all, I simply don’t have the funding, but I’ll take ten of these for two thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds. The rest you’ll have to take to The Gold Bullion Company.” By including the discount rate, he protected himself in case the ingots were not as pure as he thought. Not to mention that he avoided any transportation costs that normally applied.

He looked over at the other briefcase. “These gems are of unusually high quality. And I estimate that you have over 20 million pounds worth in the briefcase, assuming they are all of the same quality as the ones I examined.”

He separated twenty diamonds from the handful of gems he had examined. “I can give you twenty thousand pounds for these. The rest you’ll have to take to G. F. Williams unless you want to tote them around and sell them individually.”

Twilight looked at Applejack. Applejack shrugged. She turned back to the stunned-looking solicitor. “That sounds reasonable to me,” she said. “We do need some immediate spending money, so what would be the best way to do this?”

Lin blinked slowly, thinking. “I think that we need two checks, James. One for the gems and one for the ingots.” He turned back to Twilight. “We’ll cash the smaller check and open an account with the other.”

Back in his office, Lin handed Twilight forty-three fifty-Pound notes. Before she could take the bundle, though, Pinkie popped up beside them and grabbed it. Smiling broadly she tucked it into her hair. Twilight rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything. The solicitor, on the other hand, stared at Pinkie, trying to figure out how she had done that.

“I will set up your business account with the other check later this morning. And this afternoon I’ll see about selling the gems and gold,” the solicitor said, still staring at Pinkie who was now wandering around the office and peering behind the pictures on the wall. “With luck, I’ll have that all finished by supper and can start on acquiring the properties you desire.”

“Good,” said Twilight. “We need a place to live immediately, so I thought we could offer the three houses closest to the playpark double their value if we can move in immediately. The owners must move out immediately, taking their personal possessions, of course, but leaving the furniture. They have to move out by Sunday evening. We’ll pay all expenses, of course, until they find a new home.”

Lin stared at her. “I’m not sure we can process the sale that fast. And I’m not sure we’ll find any takers, either. Not on such short notice.”

She shrugged, “Then offer triple to the first one to agree. You can go to quadruple if you feel it’s necessary. We need a house to occupy on Monday! Getting the paperwork isn’t nearly as important a rush, as long as we are physically in the house on Monday.”

“Alright,” he said. “If I can get the gems processed fast enough, I’ll offer the owners the extra amount in cash.”

“Excellent!” Twilight wriggled happily in place. “Now for the next part.” She nodded at the aristocrat beside her. “Prince Blueblood is the ambassador for our home country, Equestria, to the United Kingdom. We need you to tell us how we can establish diplomatic relations.” She smiled broadly.

He stared at her dumfounded. “Prince? Ambassador?” He turned his stare to the Blueblood. He sat down in his chair behind his desk and just stared blankly at the wall behind them.

After a moment’s silence, “Uh, Twilight? I think ya broke him,” said Applejack

Pinkie giggled and the fillies and Harry exchanged amused looks. Pinkie held up a paper bag and twisted closed the opening. Then she blew into the bag and made it bulge. She held it in one hand while getting ready to pop the bag with her other hand.

The solicitor shook his head and called out the open office door. “Judy? Come here a moment.”

Pinkie gave him a disappointed look and dropped the paper bag.

“Yes, sir?” came the quick answer as the brunette stepped into the office.

He pointed at the ingot-laden briefcase beside Applejack. “Take that briefcase to The Gold Bullion Company in London. Do not let it out of your sight. It has one thousand and fifty-six twenty-four-carat gold ingots. Do not leave without a check or verified deposit. The current rate with discount is two hundred pounds per troy ounce. The ingots are one and one-eighth ounces each. You can expect approximately two hundred thirty-seven thousand, six hundred pounds. If it is less than that by two thousand or more, call me. Have them wire transfer it to this account, if possible.” He quickly copied the information from the bank form and gave it to her.

“And call Midland Security, have them send an armoured lorry for you as soon as possible, with two extra guards as an escort. Offer a bonus if they get here before ten.”

He turned back to Twilight. “In the interests of speed, I’ll transfer the funds for the gems to our corporate account, here, instead of your new account, as Judy will with the ingots. Later, I’ll transfer the remaining gem money over. That way we don’t have to worry about someone at the bank slowing things down because of such rapid activity in a new account.”

She and Blueblood nodded their agreement.

Eyes wide, the secretary just nodded as she took the paper. She walked over to Applejack, reached for the briefcase, and then failed to lift it even an inch. It did wobble slightly as she leaned back down against it in reaction to its failure to move.

“Have the guards move it for you, Judy.”

Numbly, she said, “Yes, sir,” staring in surprise at the immovable object.

Applejack chuckled. “Here, let meh move it to by the door.” With only a little strain, she picked up the briefcase and set it in the reception area by the door, and out of their immediate way.

The secretary stared, amazed. “Got a bit of muscle to her, doesn’t she?” Judy said in a low voice.

Harry laughed, “You should see her hauling a wagon-load of apples by herself! Makes it look like she’s pulling a kid’s wagon.”

The solicitor and the secretary turned and stared at Harry in bewildered disbelief. Why would a woman be pulling a wagon by herself?

“That’s my sister!” said Apple Bloom proudly as she picked up the briefcase of gems with both hands, struggling, and moved it opposite to the ingots.

Lin stared at the girl. He knew how heavy that case was. He’d tried to move it on James’ counter and it had barely budged. Harry knew it had to weigh at least as much as the little filly did, which, if he hadn’t known her earth-pony strength, would have stunned him, too.

The secretary stepped back to her desk and started dialling the security company. When she was done with that call, she would call the bullion company and warn them she was on her way with a significant amount of gold to exchange.

The solicitor shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. He spoke slowly, “First, I will have to conduct a bit of research into that field. Even with my associate, Mr. Zhao Fuxiao, doing the conveyances, it will take several days. And I have current clients that I cannot put off.”

Twilight exchanged looks with Blueblood. He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged. She turned back to Lin. “The property is of higher priority right now, so that will have to do.”

He paused, then said, “I’ll also need to see your bona fides. I’ve never heard of this country of yours . . . Equestria? And I wonder why you can’t do money transfers from your banks to ours instead of dealing with gold and gems. Not that it really matters if you prefer to do business this way instead.”

“That’s a bit of a story. I think we’ll need to show you before you’ll believe us. It’s not far, I assure you.”

“Alright,” Lin said, standing up, “Give me a moment to retrieve my car and I’ll follow yours.”

Twilight looked at him, puzzled. “We don’t have a car. We walked.”

The solicitor stared at her. “If James hadn’t assured me the ingots and gems were real, I’d think you were trying to prank me.”

Prince Blueblood spoke up. “I believe we should first get our financial arrangements in order,” he said fussily. “Once those are settled, and the initial houses purchased, we can turn our attention to establishing an embassy. Today, Mr. Yueshi can get the gems appraised and sold. Tomorrow, he can come to the playpark at the end of Magnolia Road and we can establish our bona fides, as he put it.”

“Excellent suggestion, Blueblood! Is that acceptable, Mr. Yueshi?” asked Twilight.

He nodded.

Harry suspected that with the amount of pounds the Equestrians were handing around the solicitor, he could easily put up with their eccentricities. And even if they were pranking him, the four gold ingots they had given him would more than pay for his time today and tomorrow.

“Judy,” he said, “Call Midland back and tell them to send two armoured lorries, I need to make a trip to G. F. Williams in London with this other briefcase.”

The Equestrians spent the rest of the morning exploring Little Whinging’s businesses — including an 11:20 AM viewing of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves in the Little Whinging Cinemas. Thelma and Louise followed it at 2:05 PM.

Cultural differences aside, to say they were stunned at the experience was an understatement. They had missed lunch, but had gorged themselves on popcorn, candy, and sodas, instead.

Dinner was back in Equestria at Apple Bloom’s home.

“Hey, Sweetie Belle?” Harry said after they had helped clear the table and do the dishes, “Do you know that gem finding spell your sister uses?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe we could dig up a few gems before it gets dark? You heard how much the jeweller said the briefcase was worth. I thought that maybe we could dig up a dozen or so and trade them in for spending money of our own. We’d probably only get a hundred bits or so each to last all year at the school, but it’d be our bits to spend on what we want!”

“Oooo! That’s a great idea! Ice cream whenever we want. Yes!” Scootaloo pumped her foreleg in anticipation.

It wasn’t that simple, unfortunately. Wielding a shovel with your mouth was hard! And while Harry could levitate a shovel, slamming it into the ground was another story entirely. Even using his magic just to hold the shovel steady was a trial — he’d bashed himself in the face more than once when the shovel wobbled as he jumped his fore-hooves on the shovel’s spade.

Two hours of spell casting and digging later, they had fifteen small gems barely as big as the ones the Equestrians had given the solicitor to sell.

“Well, this is disappointing,” said Apple Bloom. “Jest a bunch of small gems.”

“Eh.” Said Scootaloo. “If they’re as nice as the others from the Royal Vault, we’ll still get a couple of hundred or so bits for all of them!”

“I’d take even fifty bits,” Harry said. “It’s better than nothing!” He had never had any money he could call his own.

Sweetie Belle sighed, “Guess we should head on home, then, it’s getting dark.” She started walking back towards Sweet Apple Acres. Just as they reached the edge of the field they had been scanning, Harry said, “Hey, just for luck, how about one more time?” The unicorn filly sighed, but closed her eyes and built the spell in her mind before releasing it and looking around for any tail-tell glows. To her amazement, she saw a very bright spot just barely into the treeline beside her. “Hey, look!” called Apple Bloom, pointing at another spot behind Sweetie Belle that was just as bright.

Based on how bright they were, the four ponies figured they had found two huge groups of gems! A few minutes of digging later, they had two large rocks sitting in front of them. “Those don’t look like gems to me,” Scootaloo said, discouraged.

Sweetie Belle snorted. “Give ‘em a good stomp, Apple Bloom!"

Shrugging, Apple Bloom reared up and slammed her hooves on the larger of the two. There was a loud CRACK, and the stone fractured. A second slam of her hoof, and it shattered to reveal four purple gems, each as large as one of their hooves!

Sweetie Belle laughed. “Rarity is always telling me about finding bunches of gems inside hollow rocks. Sometimes it’s lots of little gems, which she prefers, sometimes it isn’t.”

A repeat performance on the smaller rock yielded three large red gems. That gave them a total of seven large red/purple gems and fifteen small gems.The seven big ones were almost as big as their hooves.

With the seven big ones in hoof, they were happy with their haul. Harry was especially happy about not having to ask Twilight for spending bits.

After a bath in the big tub in the barn — and miracle of miracles, no tree sap was involved — they were ready for a sleepover in Apple Bloom’s room.

As planned, Lin showed up at eight in the morning at the park. Harry and the fillies were playing on the climbing bars where it seemed the fillies were deliberately trying to put Harry in the position of looking up their dresses. The fact that they hadn’t underwear to wear, yet, made the situation all that more embarrassing for him.

As ponies, fillies and mares didn’t seem to care about keeping their privates covered at all times with their tails — it was the colts and stallions who got all flustered and upset should their sheaths fail to hide their privates adequately. Some mares, and some fillies, tried to get those failures to take place as often as possible, enjoying both the stallion’s discomfort and the thrill at seeing what normally was carefully hidden. And laughing at the stallions’ failure to control themselves.

In Equestria, Harry had gotten used to seeing things like that and usually ignored it as much as his filly friends did. If he accidentally saw the fillies’ privates, so what? Just so long as he kept himself under control and in-sheath, things were fine. And the fillies were his friends, so they didn’t play such mean games.

It was different, for some reason, now that they were girls. He found himself blushing and looking away. Which they found funny. And led them to create more of those situations. In some ways, it would have been better if they had not been wearing clothes at all!

Anyway, he noticed Twilight walking over to meet the solicitor, followed by two transformed guards and Applejack. Rarity had stayed back in Equestria making notes on the fashions she had seen the day before. Dash was “. . . stretching my wings,” as she put it — she had really hated not flying yesterday. Pinkie was baking and Fluttershy was, well, being Fluttershy — hiding with her animal friends.

“Hey, fillies, he’s here,” Harry said.

They dropped back to the ground and the herd started walking over to intercept the adults. They were, after all, the most expert at using the portal. And Harry, being a person from Earth, would have the best chance of keeping the man calm when he first saw Equestria.

“I sold the gems to G. F. Williams, provisionally, for thirty million pounds, the exact amount will depend upon the results of the gems’ actual valuations. Considering it was Friday afternoon, they expected to complete the valuations by Tuesday. They did ask me where these gems originated. I told them that my client had acquired them over many years and was now liquidating their holdings. They did advance me a bank check for one million pounds, which I added to your business account at Barclay’s. I kept out five hundred thousand for conveyances this weekend.

“And I secured your first property at Eleven Magnolia Road yesterday evening . . . .”

21 — An Unexpected Visitor

The woman who opened the door was the stereotypical English old lady: a tall, thin woman of between sixty-five and seventy years of age. She had white snowy hair, pale blue eyes, and a pinkish wrinkled face with a welcoming smile.

“Good evening,” the man at the door said, “I am Lin Yueshi, Esquire, a conveyance solicitor. Are you, per chance, Miss Marple?” He smiled as he held out his card.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Why, yes, I am.” She took the card and glanced at it briefly.

“Excellent! I have a client interested in purchasing this property. Might we discuss this?”

She looked him up and down, then glanced at his car parked at the street-side. “I am sorry, but I’m not interested in selling at this point in time.” She started to close her door.

“Excuse me, but there is one more thing,” he said, quietly, “my client is willing to pay you a premium of forty-three thousand pounds.”

She stopped and stared at him. “I am really not interested at the moment.”

“Cash. Immediately.”

She studied him a bit longer, then slowly opened her door wider.

“Thank you for your time,” he said stepping inside.

She backed up. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“Please make yourself at home,” she said warmly, waving her arm at the sitting-room.

“Thank you,” he said, again, as she bustled off into the kitchen. Sitting, he noticed the pair of knitting needles in placed on the end table with the basket of yarn skeins beside it. A partially completed . . . something . . . was at the end of the needles.

A few minutes later, Miss Marple returned with a tray and tea setting. Once they were settled, the solicitor started. “My client wishes a home beside the playpark,” he nodded his head in that direction, “and wishes to close the sale as quickly as possible. For that reason, I can offer you a premium of forty-three thousand pounds on top of the market price for a house in this neighbourhood — which should be about forty-three thousand pounds — or this house’s assessed value plus ten percent, whichever is higher. The premium will be paid upon signing of the sales contract.” He held out two stapled contracts.

She took them and gave each a quick read.

“The premium is offered on a separate contract to prevent the artificial inflation of housing prices in the neighbourhood,” he explained.

She sat down her tea on the end table, leaned back, and took a breath. “I will need to discuss this with my nephew, Raymond,” she said.

“And a solicitor,” he added, “I would suggest.”

She nodded. “It will probably take me a few days to decide.”

He smiled, “There is one more thing. If you sign the contract tonight, I can increase the premium to eighty-six thousand.”

She stared at him.

He shrugged, “My client wishes to expedite the sale as much as possible.” He paused, then added, “Why don’t you ring up your nephew and lawyer and have them come over? Any consultation fees they might charge as consultants will be added to the sale price.”

“My nephew lives too far to come tonight.” She said, standing up and going over to the phone stand by the stairs.

“If the lawyer can come over, we can consult your nephew by phone, then,” he suggested.

Half an hour later, the solicitor, Henry James, the Third, put down the contracts. “It looks fairly straight forward to me, Miss Marple.” He smiled at the spinster. “And I’ve known Mr. Yueshi for several years, so this is on the up-and-up.”

The grey-haired lady nodded and went back to the phone to consult her nephew.

“Are we agreed, then?” said Henry, a few minutes later, looking at both Miss Marple and Lin. “Market value plus ten percent or forty-three thousand pounds, whichever is greater, and a premium of eighty-six thousand?”

At Miss Marple’s nod, Lin said, “There is one more thing. If you can move out before Sunday evening, taking your personal possessions and leaving non-heirloom furniture, I can increase the premium to one hundred thirty thousand pounds. My client will, of course, provide, at their expense, movers and storage for the things you cannot take with you immediately.”

Another half hour of discussions went by with no conclusions, until Lin said, “There is one more thing. My client will provide twenty thousand pounds for temporary housing until you are situated in your new home. All in cash.”

The other solicitor leaned back and said, “How and when do you intend to deliver the cash?” He arched an eyebrow in query.

“Excuse me,” said Lin, “I’ll be right back.” Two minutes later, he laid a second briefcase on the coffee table. He opened it, removed thirty bundles of fifty-pound notes, and put them in his briefcase. “One hundred fifty thousand in fifty-pound notes. Or, if you prefer,” he said, “I can give you a combination of pounds and check. With Mr. James assistance, I could even establish a trust fund to reduce your tax burden.”

They signed the contracts five minutes later.

“One more thing,” Lin said, handing the other solicitor two final forms. “These are non-disclosure agreements for both of you that you will not discuss anything we have talked about for a period of one year.” He smiled at the still-surprised woman. “You may tell your neighbours that you have been thinking of taking an extended six-month vacation, and your nephew suggested some friends to house-sit for you while you were gone. That explains your storing of personal effects. You could even take a six-month world cruise on the Queen Elizabeth II with the stipend and still have funds for temporary housing when you returned and began your search for a new domicile. You can say your rush is because you were on standby for a room on the QE II and only received confirmation today.”

He smiled. “According to my sources, they have several cabins available at the moment. My client can provide the funds to fly you to the QE II’s next port of call if you would like?”

“. . . and today she will spend packing with the help of movers I have contracted. For an extra eight thousand pounds, she was more than willing to vacate today instead of tomorrow. I anticipate the house to be ready for you to move into tomorrow morning, afternoon at the latest.

“I expect the paper work will be completed and filed by Friday, next.

“I’ve retained the services of two interns to assist me in this. Today they will start canvassing the rest of the nearby houses. They are telling everyone they approach that part of the conveyance is a contract of non-disclosure both during and after the sale, for a period of one year. The penalty is the return of the fifty-percent premium and the six-month living stipend we are offering. That will help restrain gossip from inflating property values while we are working.”

“I believe we will be able to purchase most of the houses in the area you requested by the end of the week. The biggest single expenditure will be for the farm that surrounds the playpark, which I hope to close this afternoon.”

Twilight was grinning broadly. “Oh, thank you so much Mr. Yueshi! That’s wonderful news!”

His explanation had taken most of their walk to the portal. He stopped on seeing the tent. A guard stepped from behind a tree. “Princess Twilight Sparkle,” he said, saluting. “Everything is ready.”

Twilight sighed. “You don’t need to salute, I’ve told everyone that before.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

She rolled her eyes. The solicitor, meanwhile, was staring at the other three people he could see, all women, who were similarly saluting. Because he knew where to look, Harry could see two other guards who were almost invisible against the tree barricades on either side of the tent. They were keeping their eyes on the surroundings.

The solicitor turned to Twilight, frowning. First, Prince Blue Blood and now Princess Twilight Sparkle?

He cleared his throat. “Princess?”

Twilight blushed. She looked down at the ground for a moment, embarrassed, before looking up again. “As I told you yesterday, Mr. Yueshi, we aren’t from here. I mean that literally. We are from another world. I am one of four pony princesses in that world. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are co-rulers of Equestria. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza is the ruler of the Crystal Empire.” She looked down at the ground, embarrassed, “I only recently became a princess, just two months ago.” She sighed.

Mr. Yueshi was frowning as he listened. Harry was positive he didn’t believe her.

“Harry Potter,” she nodded at him and the fillies, “Discovered the portal between our worlds when he accidentally fell through it. It took us over a year to find it again. And then it was by another accident. Harry, however,” she glared at him, frowning, “knew exactly where it was and used it many times.”

The solicitor looked at Harry and the fillies, “I think I would have heard about a strange child being found in the forest,” he said dubiously.

Twilight smiled, “Oh, no, Mr. Yueshi, you have it backwards. Harry fell from this world into ours.”

He stared. “Now, I know that’s not right. A child disappearing from Little Whinging would have made the front page of the newspapers. Not to mention constables would have been all over the town. I couldn’t have missed that!” He stared at them disapprovingly.

Harry sighed. “No, you wouldn’t have known at all. My aunt and uncle, the Dursleys, would never have reported me missing. Someone might have found me and returned me to them,” he said bitterly. “It was their fondest hope that someday I would simply disappear. That they could pretend that I had never been there and that they never knew me. They even told me that if a stranger offered me candy and wanted me to accompany him, I should gratefully accept.”

Twilight stepped close and put her arm around Harry, followed by the fillies hugging him.

“Mr. Dursley? He has a son named Dudley, as I recall, not Harry Potter.”

“Yes, he’s tried very hard to keep my existence a secret. They frequently pretended I didn’t live with them. If you were to send the constables to Four Privet Drive and look in the cupboard under the stairs, I imagine you’ll learn all you need to know. Or you could just ask Dudley about Harry Hunting.” Harry started to scowl. “And how much fun it was,” he snarled, turning and looking away.

The solicitor had an unreadable expression, Harry saw from the corners of his eyes.

“That was something else we wanted you to look into, Mr. Yueshi,” Twilight interrupted. “About getting guardianship away from the Dursleys and to somepony more suitable.” She shook her head sadly. The solicitor noticed how the three girls all crowded close to Harry with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom each holdong one of his hands in theirs while Sweetie Belle gently rubbed his back.

“But that’s for the future. First, we need to get an embassy established, and for us to do that, we need to prove to you we aren’t pulling a prank. So,” Twilight made a gesture at the tent, “if you’ll follow me?” She started towards the tent. Lin looked at four youngsters for a moment before following Twilight.

“Now,” she said, as one of the Guards, a woman, held open the tent flap, “Harry and the fillies have made this trip many times, that’s why I have them here with us. They are the experts,” she concluded with a narrow-eyed glare at them.

The fillies grinned happily at the praise. Harry wasn’t nearly as pleased, knowing sarcasm when he heard it, and still scowling over his relatives.

She stepped inside and moved to the left to allow the solicitor to come in. It was a large tent and could easily hold several dozen or more people at once. What was astonishing to the solicitor, Harry could see from the way he stared, was that the tent had several trees growing right through its canvas roof — without any signs of flaps or other opening to explain how it had been accomplished.

The tent was empty except for two men standing on either side of the tree at the end of the tent. There was a wooden ramp with a railing starting about six feet from the tree and leading to it.

Harry followed behind the man and moved to step up beside him, as he had rehearsed. The fillies followed. He cleared his throat, facing the man. “It’s completely safe,” he said. “When you step into it there’s a flash of light and you see wood on either side of you, then you’re out of the portal. You’ll stumble at bit — it’s disorientating the first time, much less so later.

“The Guards built a platform and ramp on the other side.” He looked at the solicitor intently. “The other side looks like a park with wooden trails right now — it’s still under construction. It used to be a right thick forest.” He took a deep breath. “The biggest difference you’ll notice is that the colours are all brighter there, more . . . vibrant. Almost cartoonish, in fact. And the sounds are . . . more distinct. And the air. The air is much . . . cleaner. It’s easy to get distracted.

“So, watch your step. The changes might even make you stumble and fall. Don’t worry about falling, there’s special ponies, people, who will catch you. That’s their job right now, helping you adjust as you come through the portal.”

Harry quickly started towards the tree, the fillies staying to the side and watching. He turned around and walked backwards. “Just walk normally. There’s a little sign on the tree.” He jerked his fist over his shoulder his thumb pointing at the tree. “It says ‘Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres.’ That’s where we’re going, the name of the place, that is.” He stopped when he was almost at the tree. He waved the solicitor, now at the foot of the ramp, closer. “Just follow me, it’s perfectly safe, I promise.” He turned and stepped through the portal.

Harry clomped down on all fours and kicked his human sandals to one side. He rapidly ran forward a few steps, to get out of the way. “He’s coming through now,” he called out to the two unicorns standing on the ramp on either side of the portal.

They had debated telling him about turning into a pony, but thought that he might have balked at coming through the portal. This way was more abrupt, but they hoped that knowing that Harry had turned back into a human on the other side would keep him calm. If not, they could simply step back through with Twilight levitating him.

Harry stared, stunned, at what came through the portal. It was the solicitor, Lin Yueshi, Esquire, without a doubt. The shock was . . . he was still a human!

The man towered over them all. The head of the tallest of the unicorn Guards barely reached his waist. The colt’s head barely reached half-way up his thighs, his withers just below the man’s knees. Harry had never considered the height difference, not really. Practising walking on two legs with the fillies hadn’t prepared him for actually seeing a human looming over him.

Lin stared about himself, eyes wide in his own shock. Yes, after seeing Harry disappear into what looked like a solid tree, he had expected to see what Harry had described. What he hadn’t expected was to see a score of miniature technicolour horses arranged around an elevated wooden deck and boardwalk. Not to mention that several of them were flying! And when he looked farther away, he could see dozens more, perhaps even hundreds, of the ponies working on a massive wall, manoeuvring and lifting blocks of stone the size of his office with little trouble.

Harry managed to choke out, “You need to move, Mr. Yueshi, so Twilight and the others can come through.” In a much louder voice he said, “This is Mr. Yueshi, the solicitor that Twilight has hired to help us on the other side.” The Guards moved back as the man took a few hesitant steps forward. Lin had no trouble singling Harry out, he was the only horse wearing the clothes Harry had been wearing on the other side. That the colt was almost lost in them wasn’t much of an impediment to that recognition. And he recognized the voice.

“See? It’s just like I said, isn’t it?” Harry continued. Now that he had started, it seemed harder to stop. “The colours are all brighter, aren’t they? Almost like what you see in cartoons on the telly!” He jumped up onto his hind legs, making him almost as tall as he had been on the other side of the portal. He started walking backwards. “There don’t seem to be as many fine details, though, right?” Harry was rambling and he knew it, but until Twilight or another adult took over, he didn’t want the solicitor frightened by what he saw. “And the air smells so much better doesn’t it?” He had made about three steps before he tangled his legs in his trousers and fell. Fortunately, one of the unicorn Guards saw and caught Harry in his magic.

Watching a glow surround the colt and stop him in the midst of a fall brought Lin to a complete halt.

Not worried about falling, and now held up in the air by a magic, Harry said, “Oh, heh, we didn’t think you would believe us if we told we could do magic.” He rubbed his mane with one hoof. Then kicked his hind legs a few times and managed to get the trousers to fall to the ground. “Well, at least the unicorns can — those are the ponies with the horns. The ones that fly are pegasi.”

Lin nodded slowly.

Behind the solicitor, Harry heard Twilight gasp after she came through the portal. “Oh. My. Celestia! You’re still a person! Harry turned into a pony, but you didn’t! Now why is that? Let me see . . .” A soft purple glow encased the solicitor for a moment, and then vanished as Twilight gasped. “You have no magic!” Lin turned sideways to look at Twilight.

The ponies around them all started and stared at the human. The Guards knew better than to say anything, they just watched carefully.

There were more gasps from behind Yueshi as the others came through the portal.

The unicorn who had caught Harry had lowered him to the wooden boardwalk by then. The colt took a quick look to the left and right. There were a dozen Guards on either side a short distance from the boardwalk, but these Guards had fancier gold armour that was so polished they practically shone. That gave Harry pause. These weren’t just Royal Guards, these were Royal Royal Guards. A horrible suspicion flitted into his mind.

Slowly, he turned his head to look behind himself. Yep. There she was. Seated calmly at a large table to one side of the wooden boardwalk, the railing removed to allow ponies to approach it easily.

Without a thought, he crouched low behind the solicitor’s legs.

Twilight had felt his rapid teleport. She looked down from her study of Lin Yueshi’s non-presence in the magic around them. She frowned at Harry.

She had told him many times that he had remarkably sensitive self-preservation instincts, much more so than any pony she had ever met. Which made it all the more confusing when he seemed to ignore them completely and go off to do something that boarded on suicidal with the other Cutie Mark Crusaders. She sighed and looked around to see what had set off the tetchy colt this time.

“Princess Celestia!” she cried out in surprise. She teleported over to her beloved teacher. “You didn’t tell me you would be here! When did you arrive? If I had known you were here I would have made sure we got here as soon as possible.” She gasped loudly, crouching backwards slightly. “I’ve kept you waiting! Oh, I’m sorry! I’m such a terrible student!” Twilight was well on her way to a full-blown panic, already strands of hair had started to appear poking out of her mane at odd angles.

“Calm yourself, Twilight!” Celestia said kindly, her voice like a melody. “I’ve been enjoying a few minutes of quiet contemplation without any nobles, courtiers, or bureaucrats pestering me. It is rare that I get time to commune with the world outside Canterlot like this. I thank you for the opportunity.” She inclined her head gracefully.

Twilight took a step back, “Thank me?” she said, bewildered. She glanced around the large, restful-looking, park-like clearing with scattered trees. “Oh. I see,” she hesitantly added after a moment, not seeing at all what her mentor meant.

Meanwhile, Lin had noticed both Harry’s movement and Twilight’s reaction. And the magnificent white horse seated (!) at a nearby table, sipping tea from a floating cup. “She’s beautiful,” he murmured.

“That’s Princes Celestia,” Harry said quietly. “She’s the co-ruler of Equestria.”

“I see. And why are you hiding behind me?” he said as he glanced down. The three fillies had walked up and gathered around the two. Their expressions were ones of awe as they stared at their ruler.

“Because she scares the piss out of me,” Harry said bluntly. “She’s a Goddess, with a capital ‘G.’ She’s over two thousand years old and she raises and lowers the sun every day. She once banished her sister to the moon for a thousand years. Literally. No exaggeration.” He crouched lower.

“And you think I can protect you?” Incredulity tinged the solicitor’s tone.

“Nope, but you’re bigger than me. And out of sight, out of mind. If she’s busy looking at you, she’s not looking at me! And she wants to meet you.”

Lin glanced at the fillies. “And your friends?”

“They’re ponies,” Harry said dismissively. “She wouldn’t dream of hurting one of her ponies. I’m not. I’m a pretend pony. I’m a person who masquerades as a pony.”

Applejack sighed behind him, exasperated. “Harry, you know she likes you. She thinks of you as one of her little ponies, just like us. And you know she wouldn’t hurt you.”

Harry glanced up at Applejack. “Not on purpose she wouldn’t.” He shivered. “But if she had to choose between you or me, I think we all know who would lose.”

Applejack sighed. She looked up at the solicitor. “Please excuse Harry. He has a problem with authority figures. His . . . experiences . . . with adults on the other side have left a deep impression. The more influential someone is, the less he trusts them to do the right thing by him.” She sighed again. “And his first meeting with Princess Celestia was rather traumatic, through no ponies fault.”

“And painful,” added Harry.

“That was yer own fault, Harry. Honestly, trying to run through a wall?”

“Two walls,” put in Scootaloo. “Almost made it, too!” she said admiringly.

“She scared me!” Harry said defensively. “Still does.” He shivered and looked back at the Royal.

“Mr. Lin Yueshi, Esquire,” they heard Princess Celestia say, her voice clear across the distance, but she wasn’t speaking much louder than she had been to Twilight. “Would you care to join us for a cup of tea?”

“Address her as Your Highness or Princess Celestia,” Harry said urgently. “Only speak when she expects an answer. Do not interrupt. Pretend you’re having tea with the Queen and there’s a trigger-happy soldier with an M16 pointed at your head standing beside her,” Harry said rapidly as he quickly scooted backwards. He did not say “Good luck” or “It’s been nice knowing you,” although he was thinking it really loudly.

“I-think-I’ll-tell-everypony-on-the-other-side-that-things-are-fine-here-and-that-Princess-Celestia-is-holding-court-Bye.” he said, hurriedly as he backed through the portal. Applejack sighed and just looked at the fillies. They shrugged. Sweetie Belle gathered Harry’s discarded shoes and trousers. “Come on, fillies, let’s see what trouble Harry’s into now.”

Scootaloo giggled and said, “Besides being naked in front of all those mares turned human.”

Sweetie Belle snickered.

Apple Bloom snorted. “He’s probably already at that playpark hiding under a bush.”

“And he’s always telling us not to go through the portal naked!” added Scootaloo as she shook her head.

They disappeared through the portal.

22 — Surprise, Surprise!

Author's Notes:

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It was almost midmorning, less than an hour since Harry fled Equestria. Harry and his three girlfriends sat on the pavement on the forest side of the street and watched the movers at Eleven Magnolia Road work. It was rather boring, truth be told, because the movers spent most of their time helping the little old lady pack inside the house. As a result, the four spent their time staring at an empty garden with a lorry parked in the garage drive. And watched the occasional car drive by.

“Phew,” said Apple Bloom, “Those things really stink when you’re up close to them.” She waved a hand in front of her face and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “But they sure beat walking long distances.”

Then he saw someone he had hoped to avoid. “Aw shite,” he said under his breath. The fillies looked where he was looking. Coming down the street towards them were his cousin and his friends. Dudley had a big leer on his face and his friends were chuckling at something he had said.

“Well, well, well,” he said as he came closer, “What do we have here?” He frowned as Harry stood up, the girls doing the same a moment later.

“I thought you’d died when you disappeared so sudden like.”

“Any report of my death was an exaggeration,” Harry said dryly.

After a moment to mull that over, Dudley continued, “Mum and dad will be so disappointed. I don’t think they’ll let you inside.”

Harry shrugged. “Not gonna ask, anyway.”

“So, why ya here?” A sick smile briefly appeared. “Wanna try another round of Harry Hunting?”
Harry stared back at him, wondering if removing the bully’s ears would make him any uglier. He’d gotten quite good with his cutting spell. Lots of practice with timber-wolves tended to increase both one’s accuracy and stamina in casting.

Something in his expression unsettled Dudley. “So, who’re the birds?” He nodded his head at the three fillies.

“Friends of mine.”

“You got friends?” He frowned, then smiled. “Figures a poofter like you would only have girl friends.” His two mates leered at the girls.

Harry shrugged again. It was at times like this that he was acutely aware that he was shorter than anyone else his age. That here on Earth, in fact, all three girls were almost a head taller than he was. He rolled his neck.

The fillies watched and listened in great puzzlement. That this was the infamous Dudley Dursley was not in doubt. He was a bully, just like Diamond Tiara, except he seemed, somehow, more of a predator. And after the last year with Harry, the Cutie Mark Crusaders knew how to deal with predators. Scootaloo dropped behind them and looked around for signs of others. Sweetie Belle rolled her neck and shoulders and faced the bigger bully with Harry. Apple Bloom took a slightly wider stance, twisted her feet side-to-side, flexed her fingers, and narrowed her eyes at the two others with Dudley.

What would have happened next, Harry wasn’t sure, but he was prepared.

“Is there a problem here?” A woman in business attire had appeared beside them. Harry recognized her as one of the Royal Scouts.

Dudley smiled awkwardly, “Oh, no problem, ma’am. Just saying hello.”

Only Harry and the fillies noticed the slight glow coming from just into the hairline above the Scout’s forehead.

The other two boys straightened and smiled as well.

None of the boys fooled the hard-eyed woman staring at them.

And they knew it. Dudley was the first to break. “Well, I guess we’ll be going.” He turned and walked back up the street. “See ya later, ya dumb berk,” he called over his shoulder.

The transformed Guard watched until the trio was out of sight. “Are you all alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the four chorused.

“Perhaps you should return to our camp.”

“Awww,” was the disappointed reply from them all. Watching what little activity there was on a Saturday morning in Little Whinging was vastly more entertaining than sitting in a Guard camp watching the trees grow.

But they dutifully followed her back anyway.

They arrived at the camp just as the solicitor came out of the portal tent. He looked more than a little stunned at all he had seen. He looked at Harry, and said, barely loud enough for them to hear, “She made the sun move in a figure eight.” He looked off into the distance. “Then her sister just . . . appeared. She pulled the moon up and they orbited each other. Then they chased each other. The two Princesses seemed to quite enjoy themselves.”

Harry nodded glumly. “Yep. Told ya she moves the Sun. And her sister moves the Moon at night.”

Mr. Yueshi just looked at him, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

Twilight came up to them, still fiddling with the straps on her dress, her purse floating beside her.

He tilted his head slightly. “And magic is real.” He took a deep breath. “As I said, I’ll get right on the embassy paperwork, and making sure I get as much of the surrounding land as I can for you, Princess,” he said to her as he politely nodded his head.

Twilight sighed. “Just call me Twilight, please.”

“Of course,” he murmured. “By your leave, Princess,” he nodded again, and slowly walked away towards the playpark, his forehead creased in thought.

Twilight sighed and looked over to one of the Guards, who swiftly nodded, and started to follow the man.

Now that he was fully briefed, they didn’t want anything to happen to him. In his current dazed condition, he might walk in front of one of those car things, without noticing, and get hurt.

Harry and the fillies spent the rest of their day back in Equestria. But only after Harry verified that Princess Celestia had returned to Canterlot.

Sunday morning started off with a guard bringing a message from their solicitor stating the house at Eleven Magnolia Road was now vacant and they could move into it. Which they did, after breakfast at Apple Bloom’s home.

“Looks pretty normal to me,” said Apple Bloom, turning in place as she examined the couch, chairs, and end tables in the sitting-room. “Except, what’s that thing?” She pointed to a wood-grained box, its entire front a very dark grey glass panel that had left her guessing at what it could possibly be.

She looked over at Harry.

Harry was still standing in the entryway staring at a small door only slightly taller than himself, underneath the stairs leading up to the first floor. He was shivering. Scootaloo was halfway up those stairs and Sweetie Belle was already in the kitchen.

Apple Bloom walked over to him and bumped him with her shoulder.

He startled, and looked at her, his eyes wide. It took a moment for him to focus on her. “Um,” he said, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She pointed at the box again. “What’s that?”

He looked at where she pointed and nodded. “Oh. Um. That’s the telly.” He walked over to it. “It shows those plays I told you about. Here,” he said bending over and turning it on. It was already set to BBC One.

A colourful screen appeared with a woman wearing a costume covered in dots. Harry stared at it a moment, then said, “Ah! This is Playdays. It’s a preschool show for little kids, foals just learning about numbers, the alphabet, stuff like that.” He looked at Apple Bloom who was watching the show intently. “Her name is Dot,” he added, “from the dots on her clothes.”

The sound of the telly quickly caught the attention of the others and soon the entire group, adults and fillies, were in the sitting-room, oh-ing and ah-ing over the strange device.

The rest of the day they spent shopping — while the furniture remained in the house, the kitchen was bare of what Harry considered sensible food for the Equestrians. Not to mention that they needed to get other incidentals such as soap, shampoo, towels, and more clothes. And, of course, a VCR with at least twenty films to more properly demonstrate the telly’s capabilities. Harry would finally get to see the films he had always heard about from Dudley’s bragging — Star Wars, The Princess Bride, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Star Trek, Batman, and a bunch of others.

Waitrose provided a good deal of their needs, making it convenient. The mares appreciated the large section at the front of vegetables, fruits, and cheeses. They almost lost Pinkie to the bakery section, but Applejack managed to convince her that the management wouldn’t like non-employees taking over their bakery. The canned-goods section amazed them, and he noticed Twilight taking notes. Not that they were canned, but the sheer quantity and variety.

“Is that what I think it is?” Applejack stated flatly, staring through the glass counter in front of the butcher shop section. Harry tried to shepherd the others past it and back into the canned items isle, but it wasn’t working. Twilight, surprisingly, said softly, “AJ, I told you that humans were omnivores, that they eat meat. And that the humans are the only sapients.”

Applejack grumbled, but allowed Twilight to herd her away. Rarity simply walked past with her eyes closed, shuddering. Fluttershy, to Harry’s surprise, studied the selections displayed closely. When he walked over to her he could hear her muttering. “Oh, Mr. Bear would like some of that,” “This would last Mr. and Mrs. Ferret for a long time,” and “That’s an interesting way to package it.”

Maybe not so surprising considering how many of her animal friends were meat-eaters. And here she didn’t have to worry about one of her friends dining on another.

Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo, on the other hand, were almost drooling over the seafood selections.

And, Harry realized, Pinkie Pie was once more trying to sneak into the bakery section.

Still, they managed to get all their grocery and incidental shopping completed by lunchtime.

Which was when the mares and fillies discovered that daisy sandwiches do not taste nearly as good to humans as ponies.

“Blech,” said Rainbow Dash, making a face of disgust, “this barely has any taste at all!”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, putting her sandwich down.

Harry shrugged at every pony’s agreement. “Humans eat meat, that’s what our taste buds are designed for. We just don’t find plants as tasty. Fruits, yeah, that’s all that sugar. But regular plants? Not so much. We eat them for the roughage and some minerals.”

The others considered his words, then nodded in understanding.

“But, meat?” complained Rarity.

Harry shrugged again. “According to what I was taught in primary, humans need to eat meat to stay healthy. There are ways to be strictly vegetarian, but it’s really difficult to get all the vitamins and minerals you need without adding meat and protein.” He paused and frowned, “Especially if you are really active.” He looked over at Dash and Scootaloo. “Maybe that’s why pegasi like to eat fish every now and then.”

Rainbow and the filly looked at each other and shrugged as Fluttershy nodded.

Rarity and Pinkie Pie each shuddered while Twilight just sighed. The apple pies that AJ pulled out of her soft briefcase were a big hit, although, once again, every pony was surprised at how bland they were compared to what they were used to tasting.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching the three Star Wars films, to much acclaim by all the viewers. In the evening they watched Raiders of the Lost Ark.

The Equestrians wanted to live in Equestria and use the portal as needed, but Twilight was unsure if the magic used on Earth to address Harry’s letters would reveal their secret. She felt it would be safer if he remained in residence on the Earth-side of the portal along with the fillies. That meant the younger ones had to be chaperoned.

The mares decided that Twilight and Rarity, being alicorn and unicorn, respectively, would stay at the house while the others would use the portal. Rarity insisted that Twilight take the biggest bedroom while she took the second. The fillies would share the third, and Harry would get the smallest bedroom.

This was, of course, temporary, until three mores houses became available. Then each of the families would have a separate home. The guards and other Embassy personnel would take the additional houses in the neighbourhood until a proper Embassy could be built.

They decided to wait until the next day to send back Harry’s letter.

“Where is our little dumpling?” asked Petunia, as she walked into the sitting-room Sunday evening, “The ham is almost done!” The aroma of the evening dinner roast permeated the little house, fighting with the baked potatoes and beans in a delicious battle that had her husband’s mouth drooling.

“The little scamp will be home any moment, I’m sure,” said Vernon jovially as he watched News and Sport on BBC Two.

The knocking at the door was unexpected.

“I’ll get it,” sighed the thin woman, “I’m closer anyway.”

“Tell ’em we’re not buying what they’re selling,” admonished her overweight husband.

“Hello? Oh?” she said as she opened the door and saw three constables standing there, their car at the street curb. Little Whinging Police proudly proclaimed the lettering on its side.

“Good evening, ma’am. I am Detective Inspector Appleby and this is Sergeant Williams. We’re from the Little Whinging Police Department,” said the closest officer to the door. The man to his left and slightly behind him nodded his head. “Is this the Dursley residence?”

Recovering herself, Petunia said, “Oh, yes. Yes it is.”

“Excellent!” said the officer at the expected answer. “Are you Petunia Dursley?”

Curious, she answered, “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Is your husband, Mr. Vernon Dursley, home?”

She frowned slightly. “Yes, he is.”

“Who is it, pumpkin?” called Vernon from the sitting-room, annoyed she had not yet driven off the salesman he knew must be bothering them.

“It’s the constables, dear.” She answered. Then she gasped. “Is it Dudley? Has he been in an accident?”

“No. Ma'am. May we come in?”

“Constables? At this time of day? On the weekend?” The sounds of someone large struggling to his feet reached them.

Petunia stepped back, worriedly opening the door wider, “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the Inspector said as they three moved into the house.

She led them into the sitting-room, where her husband was standing.

“What is this about?” Vernon asked firmly.

“I’m Detective Inspector Appleby, this is Sergeant Williams, and this is PC Barbara Havers.” He paused and looked at the two in front of him. “What can you tell me about your nephew Harry Potter?”

The Dursley’s gasped. Vernon took a short step back and Petunia put her right hand on her chest. Vernon’s face started to turn red. “We haven’t seen that freak for over a year,” he said disparagingly.

The sergeant was taking notes. The PC looked around the room and noticed that all the pictures in view featured either a very fat boy or the Dursleys with the same fat child. There were no signs that there might be a fourth member of the family.

“Not since we sent him off to St. Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys,” he continued. “He was just too much of a handful for us.”

“Funny that,” said the Detective Inspector. “We contacted St. Brutus’s after a few of your neighbours mentioned them, and they’ve never heard of Harry Potter. Nor do they have any records of anyone by the name of Dursley communicating with them.”
“Oh,” said Vernon, taken aback. He had never prepared for anyone actually checking his story. “Well, they must have misfiled the records!” he blustered.

“Detective Inspector? I think you should see this.” The PC was standing by the open under-stairs cupboard door.

“Hey now!” the overweight man said, “What are you doing?”

The DI ignored the man and took a look inside. The childish drawing on the wall inside, which said Harry’s Room, drew his attention. It was partially hidden behind a coat. He studied the stained and worn cot jammed inside the cupboard under the hanging coats. He straightened. “Better call a forensic team,” he said to the Sergeant. “No one has seen the child for over a year now.”

The evening had taken a sudden turn for the worst for the Dursleys. Dudley, when he came home, didn’t help matters. Even the smartest eleven-year-old is no match for carefully worded questions from an adult. And Dudley wasn’t the sharpest knife in the utensil drawer, not by a long shot.

The scandal of seeing the Dursley’s led away in handcuffs by the constables while Dudley went — screaming — with a team from Child Services drew everyone’s attention. The gossips devoted themselves to telling everyone they just knew something had been wrong with the Durselys. Some even claimed that this past year they had suspected foul play regarding that poor Harry Potter boy. And all conveniently forgot the years they had spent vilifying the child as a layabout thieving little hoodlum. It also drew their interest away from the rumours that someone was going through the neighbourhood asking if people were willing to sell their homes. And closing the deals with remarkable efficiency.

“AHH!” Harry yelled on opening his bedroom door Monday morning to find both Twilight and Rarity in the hall. Twilight was about to knock on his door, and Rarity was knocking on the girl’s door. The real surprise was that both were completely nude.

Harry slapped his hand over his eyes and stumbled back into his room.

“What’s wrong Harry?” Twilight asked as he tripped and fell back onto his sofa bed. Rarity and the others quickly appeared, wondering what had happened. The fillies, like the two adults, were nude.

“You’re all naked!” he exclaimed, still keeping his hand over his eyes.

He knew Twilight was looking apologetic, Rarity was looking puzzled, and the fillies were probably rolling their eyes. But he refused to lower his hand.

“You shouldn’t do that, especially where I can see you! If I had ever seen Aunt Petunia naked she would have beaten me until I couldn’t stand, and then had Uncle Vernon do the same when he got home! And we can get into trouble if you do that! Get dressed before you leave your bedroom! Go on, do it!”

With much grumbling the females all vacated his room. After a minute, he peeked carefully before heading down to the kitchen and starting coffee for the mares while putting fruit juices out for the girls.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said as she entered the kitchen, the others doing the same as they came in.

“It’s alright,” Harry said. “We’re going to have to go clothes shopping for you all, getting you more dresses, as well as sleepwear.”

Rarity looked up, surprised, “You even wear clothes to bed?”

“Yes. And there are even robes to wear to and from baths. Like at Ponyville Day Spa, only in your home.”

Monday was Harry Potter’s very first lesson in why men, and boys, hate shopping for clothes with women and girls. Although he did almost nothing, by the time they returned to the house he was exhausted.

That evening, after dinner, they brought the Hogwarts owl back from Sweet Apple Acres and then gave him Harry’s response, which stated, succinctly, that he wouldn’t attend the school unless his three friends did, too.

Then they watched the two Back to the Future films.

Tuesday for Professor McGonagall started the way it usually did at this time of the year — a stack of letters arriving in her office just before the acceptance deadline. This year, however, she had waited on tenterhooks, metaphorically speaking, of course, for that one letter. The letter that heralded the return of the one who had saved Wizarding Britain from an oppressive dictatorship. The letter that heralded the return of the son of her favourite student. The letter from Harry Potter.

She did not squee like a little girl when the flick of her wand yanked a letter from the middle of the pile the house-elves had left on her desk.

Which is what she told the Headmaster later when, at breakfast with the other professors, he insinuated that she had. “Nonsense.” She said, “As you can see yourself, I only now discovered his letter this moment while perusing the morning post!” She had made a point of opening the letters at breakfast for the last few weeks. She had, of course, pretended not to know the boy’s letter was in the pile she carried in with her from her office. She fooled no one except Hagrid, Dumbledore was amused to note. Not with the big grin she had tried to hide while walking into the hall.

Opening and reading it, to the eager anticipation of her associates, she frowned, then reread it. “Oh, dear,” she said quietly, handing the letter to the Headmaster.

The old wizard read the letter frowning. He turned it over to see the return address. His frown deepened. Then he reread the letter.
“Is something wrong, Headmaster?” asked Professor Flitwick.

Professor Snape, the Potions professor, snorted, and said disparagingly, “The spoiled brat is probably making unconscionable demands. Typical.”

The Headmaster ignored them. “Are you familiar with these children?” He handed the letter back to his deputy Headmistress. She studied the letter. “Scoot Aloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom.” Her mouth tightened and she studied the letter intently. She shook her head slightly. “I’ve never seen names like these.” She glanced back up at the Headmaster. “Even for muggles, these are most unusual.”

The frowning potions professor gave an almost imperceptible nod of agreement.

“Could they be in the Acceptance Book?” asked Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Perhaps. The letters are magically addressed and given to the owls by the house-elves.” She pushed her chair back and started for the side door to the hall. “I’ll check the book.”

An hour later she entered the Headmaster’s office.

“Well, my dear,” said the old wizard, “What have you discovered?”

She seated herself on the chair in front of his desk and she shook her head, “They are listed,” she stated. “But when I asked if Slinky or any of the other owl house-elves remembered owling them their letters, he said, yes, popped away, and came back a moment later with these.” She held up three sealed letters. She looked Dumbledore in the eyes, “He said they had just appeared in the owl-post slots for sending this morning.”

“Wonderful! That satisfies Harry’s request that they be allowed to attend, then.” He nodded happily. “But why so late, I wonder?”

She frowned. “And they have the same address as Mr. Potter’s letter.” She placed them on his desk.

“Do they now?” he said, intrigued and picking them up to examine.

“Apparently they live together.”

“Most unusual,” muttered the old wizard, glancing at his monitoring trinkets. None of them showed anything amiss. “Perhaps he was staying over the weekend when his letter went out?”

She sighed. “I’ll visit them tonight with the normal Muggle-born Introduction booklet.” She looked up at the Headmaster. “At least we know he is alive and well. And has good friends.” The headmaster looked more disturbed than pleased, to her surprise, and his gaze was directed thoughtfully over her head.

A grey cat with black stripes, and black squares around its eyes tied together over her nose with a single black stripe — somewhat reminiscent of spectacles — sat on the front window ledge at number Twelve Magnolia Road and stared at number Eleven Magnolia Road across the street. The family there seemed to interest the cat as it closely observed everything the four children and six adults did. Which, oddly, seemed to be having a film marathon. She would have liked to be closer, but the lack of any convenient trees meant she would have had to be on their window sill, and she would have been noticed long before now.

The cat had arrived shortly after five o’clock, just before the normal rush of cars heralding the return of the breadwinners to their homes. For some reason, there appeared to be fewer of them than normal for such a residential neighbourhood, especially at this end of the street. In fact, the very house which the cat was using as a post was vacant, and recently so, from the scents that the cat detected. And the houses at number Ten and Thirteen had a mover’s lorry parked in their garage drives.

Finally, at seven o’clock, when it became apparent that no automobile was going to be arriving at number Eleven, the cat jumped down and ran to the side of house at number Twelve where the early evening shadows were deepest. Moments later, a woman walked out and headed across the street, the setting sun casting her long shadow down the street.

She didn’t notice the woman watching her from several houses down at the opposite end of the street.

23 — Pub Crawling

The ten of them were so engrossed with the film, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, that they almost didn’t hear the knock at the door. The adults exchanged glances. Unless there was something wrong, the guards had been ordered to not approach the house until Twilight gave the okay. Could there be a problem?

“I'll get it,” said Twilight, heading for the door. The woman she saw at the door took her by surprise. A tall, severe-looking bespectacled woman with dark hair tied up in a bun was standing at the door. Twilight knew she couldn’t be one of the neighbours. All the closest ones had already sold their houses and were making moving arrangements with her solicitor. They were too busy moving out to be bothered with introducing themselves to the Equestrians. And it would be rather pointless because they were just going to move away, anyway.

The stranger smiled. “Hello, I’m Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. I have acceptance letters for a Miss Scoot Aloo, a Miss Sweetie Belle, and a Miss Apple Bloom. Are they here?”

Twilight smiled and stepped back as she studied the woman carefully, “Yes they are. Come in. We’d expected another letter in response to Harry’s reply, but someone from the school actually coming is a nice surprise.”

The Deputy Headmistress stared at her a moment, considering what she had said. She nodded her thanks as she walked in, carefully looking around at the small house.

Twilight led her into the sitting-room. Harry quickly shut off the film on the telly as he, the fillies, and Spike stood up from where they were sitting on the floor. Quite by accident, Spike was mostly hidden behind Harry and the fillies.

“Everyone,” Twilight said, “this is Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.” A chorus of murmured, “Hellos,” greeted the witch.

Twilight turned to face her. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, this is Blueblood, . . . ,” she said and then proceeded to introduce the herd. She ended with Harry and the fillies. Each girl said “hello” and waved as her name was mentioned, helping the professor identify them. The vibrant hair colours they all sported took her by surprise.

Minerva smiled slightly at seeing Harry. She recognized him immediately. “And Mr. Potter is here, as well. Excellent.”

Still smiling, she said warmly, “You look like your father, but you have your mother’s eyes.” She turned to the three girls and studied them. They looked like typical pre-teen girls, meeting her gaze with happy smiles. Their eye colours, though, were a bit unusual — green, red, and purple. Most wizards and witches had either brown or blue eyes.

“And this,” Twilight continued, “Is my number one assistant, Spike!”

Spike stepped out from behind the three fillies and waved, adding his “Hello.”

Surprised, McGonagall took a step back and rapidly drew her wand. She hadn’t noticed the green dragon partially hidden behind the girls, thinking the green colour was some kind of stuffed toy covered with sequins. “A dragon!” she said. She didn’t point her wand at the dragon-child as none of the other’s seemed worried at its presence, but she kept it ready.

“Well,” Spike said, putting his hands on his hips, “Of course I’m a dragon. Haven’t you ever seen a dragon before?” He puffed up his chest proudly.

A normal witch would have blatantly stared, mouth dropped open in shock, but Minerva was made of sterner stuff. She taught at a school where children went from preteens through puberty to adults. It took quite a lot to break her composure. However, he still flummoxed her a bit. “Not one that talks,” she said slowly. “All the ones I’ve heard about are vicious, unreasoning, deadly creatures.”

The Equestrians all raised their eyebrows at that revelation. Maybe that was why Spike hadn’t turned into a human when he came through. There were dragons here, just not very intelligent.

“Well,” said Twilight, “I’ve raised Spike from an egg and I’ll have you know that Spike is neither unreasoning nor vicious. He can be quite insightful at times. And he has excellent flame control.” She gazed at him proudly.

Spike preened under the praise.

“Ah. Yes. I see,” the professor said still studying the little dragon. She was familiar with most of the dragon breeds in the world, and Spike’s form and attitude was unlike all of them. She carefully put her wand back in its pocket.

“I don’t suppose you know that it is illegal to hatch and raise a dragon without a Ministry license?”

“Is that so?” said Twilight. She shrugged. “No one ever told us, and no one not in this room knows about Spike being at this house.” She smiled at the professor. “I suppose we’ll have to see about getting that license, then.”

McGonagall just stared for a moment. Then she shook her head and returned to her regular business.

“Let’s see,” she said, “This is for you, and you, and you,” punctuating each by handing a sealed letter to the girl whose name was one the front. She turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, I know you requested in your letter that we allow your friends to join you. Only children with sufficient magic are allowed to attend Hogwarts. Fortunately, your friends appear to qualify, although I don’t know why they didn’t get their letters when you received yours.” The girls hurriedly opened their letters and hopped happily in place, showing each other and Harry their letters.

McGonagall turned to the adults. “Now, then. I’m sure you have many questions, the first of which is usually ‘Is this a joke?’ I assure it most certainly is not. Magic is real.” She paused to look at Spike uncertainly, her normal spiel clearly not being of much use.

They all simply nodded. Not surprising, really, considering they were apparently raising a pet dragon.

“Yes, we know,” said Twilight, staring interestedly at the wand.

The Equestrians had debated this point several times before deciding to be up front about it. While they had decided they wouldn’t mention the portal or Equestria, trying to pretend they didn’t know magic would backfire when Harry and the fillies inevitably displayed their knowledge and abilities. Of course, they hadn’t expected an actual visitor, so the visitor meeting Spike would have ruined any other plans, anyway.

Rarity smiled and lifted her mug of tea in her magic to take a sip. Harry and Sweetie Belle also smiled and lifted their fizzy drink bottles from on the floor to their hands. Prince Blueblood, not to be outdone, magically poured additional tea from the pot on the table into his cup before lifting it for a sip.

It was a bit more strenuous here than at home, and required far more concentration. Twilight had theorized that magic wasn’t nearly as prevalent here as the reason for that difficulty.

“Oh,” the older witch said, “I see. And wandlessly, too.” She blinked a few times, thinking. “That makes things simpler. Have you had any contact with the wizarding community? Do you know about Hogwarts already?”

To that, Twilight said, “No, we haven’t. We know nothing about either subject.”

For the next hour, with many interruptions by Twilight, the professor told the Equestrians about the wizarding community and how they kept themselves separate from the non-magical humans, although she called the non-magicals, muggles. Twilight’s quill flying across paper as she took copious notes kept drawing the older witch’s gaze as the quill and paper floated beside the young woman. Not even the Headmaster had ever shown off such fine delicate unconscious wandless control. And she hadn’t seen either the quill or stack of paper appear, either. They were just there.

She also gave them the sales-pitch about Hogwarts, a boarding school, being the best magical school in Great Britain. She demonstrated some simple spells with her wand, as well as transforming herself into her cat animagus and back. That drew intense interest from all of them and she spent a short time explaining it.

When she said that her wand was made from fir with a dragon heartstring core, she didn’t miss the appalled looks they gave her in response. Spike gasped out loud and stared at her, frightened and hiding behind Twilight. “The dragon who supplied my heartstring died of natural causes,” she said to Spike, reassuringly. Still, everyone, including Harry, was clearly upset by that revelation.

Then she explained the money system used by the wizards, adding, “You can exchange pounds for galleons at Gringotts, the Goblin bank.”

Twilight frowned and asked, “Will they accept gems or gold instead?”

The professor stared at them a moment, thinking. “Yes, if you have some jewellery you’d rather exchange, they will take those instead.”

Harry could tell she was curious why they didn't want to exchange pounds for the wizarding currency.

Relieved, Twilight nodded and said, “Oh, good.”

“Now,” McGonagall continued, “I’m taking another muggle-born student to Diagon Alley tomorrow. If you’ll meet me at The Leaky Cauldron in London tomorrow at eight, you can come with. Otherwise we’ll have to make an appointment for later this week.”

The disguised alicorn quickly agreed, “Oh, yes, we can easily do that. Where is this Leaky Cauldron?”

“The address is in the Muggle-born Introduction booklet,” she pointed at the small brochure she had left them.

It took her another hour to finally escape Twilight’s copious questions. As she reached the door, however, she stopped and asked, “Oh, by the way, will Mr. Potter be returning to the Dursleys tonight?” She didn’t miss the way Twilight stiffened at that question.

“The Dursleys,” Twilight said slowly. “Do not get along well with their nephew, so we decided he could stay with us when he wanted. Fortunately, he was with us when your first owl arrived. The Dursleys truly detest magic and get quite upset if you even mention it. They deny it exists. I can’t imagine how they would have reacted to that letter.” She shuddered. “Oh, and the Dursleys do not know that we can do magic.”

She looked back at the witch. “Right now, they are staying in Woking. Some type of legal issue that requires they stay there until school starts, I think.” Pinkie Pie snickered while Rarity and Rainbow Dash exchanged smirks. "They're staying at . . . well . . . I heard someone refer to it as one of the Queen's Resorts. It's apparently one of many."

Professor McGonagall nodded. “Well, then, until tomorrow,” she said as she left the house.

She had her head down, thinking, as she walked down the street looking for a convenient shadow to disapparate from. She didn’t notice the woman watching from the shadows of the darkened house across the street.

Apple Bloom turned to her sister. “Um, AJ? Can I have a hair for my wand?” She scuffed her foot on the rug. “I don’t want to take a chance on getting’ a wand with a core from a stranger. Or,” she shuddered, “a dragon.” She looked guiltily at Spike.

Sweetie Belle turned to her sister with a similar plea.

At Scootaloo’s desperate look, Rainbow Dash just grinned. “Sure, squirt,” she said pulling out one of her long hairs. The one she pulled came without a struggle, as if released by her desire to give it to Scootaloo.

Rarity and Applejack quickly followed suit.

Harry turned to Twilight with a hopeful look, and she quickly handed him one of her hairs. Four sheets of paper from the stack Twilight had been using flew up, folding themselves into envelopes as they floated to a stop in front of Harry and the fillies. “To keep them clean for the wand-maker,” she explained.

The adults adjourned to the kitchen to discuss their next steps while Spike, Harry, and the fillies returned to their film.

Later that night, Spike made a quick trip to the portal and sent a copy of Twilight’s notes and her report of their meeting with the Deputy Headmistress to the Princesses.

Harry’s morning started like the previous two, cajoling and whining at the fillies to wear clothes. As they came down the stairs at six o’clock, they saw Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy coming in the front door. The fillies and Harry were surprised to see Twilight and Spike coming in with the other mares. Harry wondered when she had gotten up and why she had gone to the portal.

In the dining room, Pinkie Pie unloaded her soft briefcase, placing an impressive pile of the baked goods on the breakfast table. Meanwhile, Applejack unloaded her briefcase with a huge pile of pancakes Granny Smith had prepared.

“Here you go, Harry,” Twilight said, handing him a piece of wood about twice the size of his thumb in diameter and reaching from his fingertips almost to his elbow. “It’s from the Library Tree. I thought you maybe could use it for your wand. And the Princesses sent you some hairs, as well. Maybe the wand-maker can put them all together?”

Harry’s eyes sparkled as he gently took the branch. “Brilliant, Twilight!” He hugged her.

Applejack handed a similar piece of wood to Apple Bloom. “It’s from Ol’ Granddad,” she explained. Apple Bloom almost burst into tears at that. Old Granddad was the first apple-tree planted at Sweet Apple Acres over three hundred years ago, before Ponyville was founded, by her great-great-great-grandfather.

Rainbow Dash turned to Scootaloo and held out a primary feather, “Here. This might work better for you than a hair. After all, I am the fastest Pegasus in Equestria, not,” she cut her eyes towards Rarity, “the most vain.”

“Taking pride in one’s appearance is not vanity,” Rarity said haughtily as she glared at Dash.

“You keep telling yourself that, Rare,” Dash replied, and laughed as Rarity’s glare intensified.

Scootaloo reverently took the feather and rushed to her rucksack to store it in the envelope from last night. The others followed suit.

Breakfast was quick and soon they were waiting for the limousine promised by their solicitor. Harry had heard Twilight call him last night and explain where they needed to go. He had told her he would arrange for a limousine to pick them up and take them to the address they needed. When they needed to return, all they had to do was call the service and tell them where they were.

As for the call itself, well, Harry had shown her how to use the telephone system and the solicitor had told her what the number was at Mrs. Marple’s house when they moved in on Sunday. It was now posted above the phone. Their solicitor had told they would keep that number until the Embassy was set up.

The limousine was huge, a long low-slung vehicle with more than enough seating for the ten of them. Harry had never seen such a vehicle before. Fruit drinks were stored in a small refrigerator behind the driver’s seat. For the ponies used to chariots, carriages, and railcars, it was quite an experience and Harry had a difficult time holding his laughter back at their amazed reactions.

The drive itself was just as riveting. They couldn’t believe the high-speed traffic, to the Equestrians that is, on the M3-M25-M4. Fifty miles per hour with three and four lanes of traffic, with London growing large in the distance was an incredible experience for them. Only pegasi in Equestria moved that fast. And yet, here, it was considered ordinary for everyone. And so many at the same time!

The driver stopped in front of a bookstore at Forty-two Charing Cross Road to let them all out. Twilight was the first out of the car and nearly bolted for the bookstore before they could grab her. It took both Applejack and Rarity repeating, “Focus, Twilight, focus!” to drag her away. All the while she longingly gazed at the books on display in the store’s windows. Books no pony had ever read. Books she could tell were not in the Little Whinging bookstore.

Harry spotted The Leaky Cauldron as he waited for the drama to end and everypony else to exit the car. It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If he hadn’t been looking for it, Harry wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it, either. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other. It was as if they couldn’t see The Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and* the Equestrians could see it.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby, he thought as they entered. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking something from tiny glasses. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut.* The low buzz of chatter slowed when they walked in and the customers inside looked them over.

Professor McGonagall was standing by the bar at one side of the pub, in the back. With her were two adults and girl, looking quite out of place in their modern clothes. Twilight led the group towards her.

The bartender looked up and said, “These the rest of your group, Professor?” Before she could reply, though, the bartender said “Good Lord.” He peered at Harry, “is this — can this be — ?” The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter . . . what an honour.”

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.*

Compared to the laid-back attitude of the ponies in Equestria, this was quite overwhelming to Harry. The crowd, only a dozen or two people, quickly edged the fillies and other Equestrians away from Harry.

Professor McGonagall, her muggle guests, and the Equestrians all stared, completely flummoxed at the way the witches and wizards were reacting to Harry’s mere presence.

The room was brought to a stunned silence as a tremendous BOOM shook the pub.

Harry looked over at the source of the noise and saw Pinkie Pie, with an ear-to-ear grin, hoisting her party cannon on her shoulder. Streamers hung from every spot where a streamer could hang and glitter softly wafted from the ceiling. A huge banner stretched over the bar, reading “WELCOME BACK, HARRY POTTER!” A huge cake adorned one table, the glitter somehow avoiding it. A poster was on the wall, labelled Pin the tail on the Pony! A ribbon sliced to resemble a pony tail hung beside it.

While the wizards and witches were gawking at the transformed pub, Harry’s three friends took advantage of the distraction and quickly formed a triangle around him.

Pinkie yelled, “PARTY TIME!” and started handing out slices of cake to the nearest wizards and witches. Harry over-heard her say, “Hello evil Wizard who will soon have two faces, have some cake.” He couldn’t see whom she was speaking to, although he did hear the man choke in surprise.

Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack were quick to take advantage of the situation and also surrounded Harry, cutting him and their sisters off from the wizards and witches.

“Where did she get that cannon? How’d she make that banner!” one of the muggles said. “Where did the cake come from? Where did she put that cannon?” said the other. Their daughter, at least Harry assumed the girl was their daughter, crowed happily, “Magic is going to be so much fun!” and bounced gleefully in place, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

Pinkie handed her a slice of the cake. “I know, isn’t this just wonderful? All these new friends to make!” she said, just as gleefully, as she bounded off to deliver another slice of cake.

McGonagall looked at Twilight with eyebrows raised in surprise. Twilight was face-palming. “Don’t try to understand Pinkie,” she said. “The one time I tried I almost had a nervous breakdown.” She sighed. “She breaks the laws of magic and physics all the time.” McGonagall looked at the hyper-active Pinkie Pie and then back at Twilight, her expression easily conveying the message, you are kidding, aren’t you?

Tom, the bartender, watched as Pinkie Pie walked out of the Pub’s kitchen with three large trays, one in each hand and one on her head, each loaded with muffins and cupcakes. He looked over at the giant punchbowl at the end of his bar and sighed. It hadn’t been there when these witches had come in.

He looked at the happy, smiling wizards and witches in the room. He saw that there were more than just a few minutes ago. He smiled. Whatever was happening was good for business. If not today, then tomorrow. He started lining up mugs of punch on the bar, and stronger drinks behind them. That banner would draw all sorts of customers to his pub throughout the day.

The Equestrians carefully herded Harry over to McGonagall. They formed a wall behind him and the fillies and cut off the curious Wizards and witches, whom Pinkie was doing her best to distract.

The professor cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about that,” she said to Harry. “Some wizards just have no sense of decorum.” She glared at the wizards and witches in the pub behind Harry. She turned to the muggles beside her. “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Granger and their daughter, Hermione Granger.” She turned back to the Equestrians and proceeded to introduce them to the Grangers. There was a lot of handshaking as they exchanged greetings. She didn’t remark on the fillies all having black hair today.

After that was completed, she said, “Harry, as you can see, is something of a celebrity in our world.” She again cast a dark glare into the pub, which was remarkably crowded, now. It seemed word of Harry’s “party” was spreading rapidly.

Harry shivered. He had to fight against the urge to hex the crowd of them for touching him like that. He was Harry Potter! How dare they!

“Come,” she said, and led them out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

The Equestrians looked around and were not impressed. Neither, from their expressions, Harry could tell, were the Grangers.

“It’s to throw off suspicion from the muggles,” the witch explained. “And you’ll need to remember this,” the professor said to her younger charges, “Three bricks up and two across from the left.” She tapped the indicated brick with her wand.

The brick she had touched quivered, as if made of gelatine, and suddenly twisted sideways leaving a small hole. The bricks around it began twisting and turning and the hole grew wider and wider until if formed a large archway. One large enough even for their group to easily pass through it onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

“Welcome,” said Professor McGonagall, “to Diagon Alley.”

After they all had stepped through, Harry relaxed as looked back over his shoulder and saw the archway’s bricks twist and turn back into solid wall. He had recovered his equilibrium, now that they were not in that cursed common pub. And the magic! Watching it course through the bricks as they reversed was fascinating

Potage’s Cauldron Shop was the shop right beside the Archway. A stack of cauldrons was piled outside it. Above them was a sign that said, Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible*.

“We’ll come back for one of those, later,” McGonagall said as she guided them down the alley.

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

24 — One Speed Only

The string slowly made their way down the Alley, following in Professor McGonagall’s wake. The mares were no less amazed at what they saw than the fillies and colt. The shopfronts were all slightly odd looking, their proportions off just a little from what they expected — the straight sections were ever so slightly crooked and the curved sections seemed to stick out farther than they should. “Ah wonder if Discord visited this place?” Applejack said. “Everything has that ‘not quite normal’ feel to it.”

“Yes, dear,” said Rarity, “It does at that.”

“But not nearly as in-your-face as Discord seems to like,” added Dash.

“Hmm, yes,” Twilight said thoughtfully.

Pinkie, on the other hand was darting back and forth across the Alley. Nothing seemed to escape her attention as she popped up behind barrels and disappeared behind crates. Disappearing on one side of the street and reappearing on the other without apparently crossing the space between. Professor McGonagall occasionally would glance at Twilight, who would just shrug.

After their experience in The Leaky Cauldron, the fillies made sure to surround Harry at all times. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were at his sides, each holding one of his hands, and Scootaloo trailed behind.

Rainbow Dash’s and Pinkie Pie’s strange hair colouring garnered them much attention, especially Dash’s rainbow tresses. The comments Harry could overhear seemed split between delighted surprise at the colours and disgust at such brazen attempts at garnering attention, with many disparaging remarks about muggles.

Harry could see the mares twitching their heads slightly as they heard comments that the speakers clearly didn't expect them to hear. Being Equestrian did give one better hearing, it seemed.

The casual displays of magic were not unusual to the ponies turned human, unlike the Grangers, but the items they saw for sale in the shops certainly were. There were cauldrons, telescopes and strange silver instruments, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes (both of which appalled the ponies), tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of paper, potion bottles, globes of the moon, and lots of other items. Unlike Ponyville and Canterlot, though, both of which were quite expansive, the street and buildings were crowded close, with merchandise stacked outside the shops and reducing walking room even farther.

The commotion of the young boys at the broom shop left them puzzled. What could possibly be exciting about brooms?

They almost lost Twilight when they reached a bookstore by the name of Flourish and Blotts, but quick action by Applejack kept her with them, grabbing her arm and saying “Twilight, you can examine the bookstore later, if not today then another day. First we have to get to the bank.”

“But, books!” Twilight complained as she reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged away, staring longingly at the shop as they left it behind.

Harry noticed that the Granger girl likewise had to be redirected by her parents, although with far less pouting. He saw the girl and Twilight exchange a dismayed look, then both sighed dramatically at the unfairness of life. A human version of Twilight? He chuckled at the thought, then blanched as he considered just what that meant. He edged slightly farther away from her. She was too busy gawking at their surroundings to notice.

The big alabaster building with its odd lines drew their attention the moment they saw it. Applejack muttered, “Discord,” and shook her head. The strange creatures, Goblins, Professor McGonagall called them, standing at the doors caught their interest, as did the warning carved into the marble over their heads. Again, Applejack had to restrain Twilight. “They don’t look that friendly, dear, but I’m sure there are books about them in the bookstore,” she said consolingly as she once again dragged the pouting pony-turned-human away from the objects of her interest.

Professor McGonagall, noticing the Equestrians’ interest in both the carving above the doors and the Goblins to either side, said, “Gringotts is probably the safest place anywhere in England for whatever you hold valuable. The only place safer than Gringotts is, naturally, Hogwarts.” She gave a quick glance to the adults. “There’s no safer place than Hogwarts for your children.” The Equestrian all nodded. That was what they would expect of a school that taught magic. The Grangers, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as confident.

The expansive, luxurious marble interior was astonishing in comparison to the drab colours and shabby appearances in the rest of the Alley. The lobby wasn’t too crowded this early in the morning, but there were a fair number of wizards at the tellers’ windows, including one giant of wizard who was almost twice as tall and three times as wide as a normal man. Harry wondered what he was up to, as he kept taking furtive nervous glances around the lobby.

Harry looked back at the doors. Yes, he decided, the inside was bigger than the outside. He wondered if such a spell could be applied to smaller things, such as bags. He could imagine Applejack spelling her wagon to carry many times its normal load to save trips — if she could pull it, that is. On the other hand, Big Mac had no difficulty moving their cart as it was. Even if they only increased its capacity by half, it would still be a massive timesaver for them.

Harry had never seen such an impressive building. He noticed, though, that the mares did not seem impressed at all with the building. Not surprising, consider how often they visited Canterlot. The mares found the Goblins hurrying around much more intriguing. Fluttershy, however, seemed to be cowering behind Dash. The many swords and knives the Goblins wore apparently intimidated her.

Harry was relieved to see several Goblins working at assessing or counting jewels. Maybe the few they had dug up might give them a bit of spending money of their own. Buying ice cream or other treats when they wanted instead of having to beg their relatives for a few bits would be soo nice. With any luck what they had dug up yesterday would last them the year.

The professor led them to an unoccupied teller’s window, the same one the really big wizard had just left, heading off to the rear of the bank and following a Goblin.

The Goblin at the window wasn’t idle, but writing in something. “Yes,” he growled as she stopped in front of him. His countertop was well above Harry’s and the fillies’ line of sight. Even standing back from the teller’s window still only let them see the Goblin’s face.

“Mr. Granger, here,” she indicated the man, “would like to exchange pounds for galleons.” She turned to the muggles and said, “We’ll meet you at the front doors when everyone else is finished.” She then led the others to a new window, where she received the same surly greeting.

“These witches would like to exchange gold and jewels for galleons.” She indicated the mares. The Goblin gave them a long searching look, lingering on their hair colours, especially Rainbow Dash’s.

“And here is Mr. Potter’s key to his vault,” she continued. The Goblin took the key. He examined it closely, and even went so far as to lick it.

“I will conduct Mr. Potter down to his vault so that he may withdraw sufficient funds for the coming school year,” she explained to the group.

Twilight and the other mares exchanged uncertain looks, as did the three fillies. They clearly had reservations about letting Harry away from their sight. Finally, Rainbow Dash said, “I’ll go with him, too.” A relieved looking Twilight nodded her head thankfully.

Meanwhile, Harry could see the fillies wanted to go with him. But if they did that then they wouldn’t get their gems traded for whatever bits they could get. “I’ll be fine,” he said to them in an undertone, slipping off his rucksack. “You take care of the gems.” He pulled the bag of gems from his rucksack and handed them to Sweetie Belle. He shrugged his rucksack back in place.

“Griphook!” called out the teller.

A Goblin came hurrying up.

“They require access to this vault,” the teller said, tossing the key to the new Goblin.

Griphook snatched the key out of the air and hurried towards the back of the bank. Professor McGonagall followed quickly. With a startled look at each other, Harry and Dash rushed after them. These Goblins did not wait on ceremony, apparently. After walking down a hallway that became a tunnel, they arrived at a triangular cart and three-rail track. The cart had a seat in the front for the Goblin to steer and a larger seat in the back that could fit three.

Harry took the middle seat after Professor McGongall got in, and then Dash followed him. With a lurch, the cart started moving slowly, but rapidly increased speed. Then the cart plunged down a slope. Harry had heard about roller coasters from Dudley, and this one fit his description perfectly.

“YAAAHOOO!” yelled Dash as they shot down the twisting and turning track. Harry soon echoed her enthusiasm. At one point Harry thought he caught a glimpse of a dragon. When they finally rolled to a stopped in front of a large metal door Rainbow Dash and Harry were both laughing and grinning like maniacs. The professor was much more staid, but she still sported a bit of a smile.

“THAT WAS AWESOME!” yelled Dash, thrusting her hands into the air. She suddenly turned to Goblin, “Does it go faster?” she demanded staring at him intently. Her windblown hair gave her the appearance of a mad woman.

Taken aback at her reaction, he grumbled, “One speed only.” He turned away from her, walked to the vault door, and used Harry’s key to open it.

Scowling, Dash shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. Amazingly, her technicolour hair straightened and fell into long waves that once again reached her waist. It didn’t look as carefully brushed and combed as Rarity’s or the other mares’ hair, but it would pass as acceptable. Harry was used to such things from the ponies, so he said nothing. The professor stared, then shook her head.

To say Harry and Dash were surprised at the contents of Harry’s vault would be an understatement. Harry reflected that he and fillies hadn't really needed to go gem hunting, after all. And that it was a good thing his Uncle had never known about this vault.

Harry took off his rucksack. Rarity had made a few alterations to his pony saddlebags by adding a few extra straps and buckles that reshaped the bag to accommodate his human form. When he returned to Equestria all he had to do was rearrange the straps and he had his saddlebags back. He quickly started scooping handfuls of the gold coins into the rucksack, ignoring the others.

Dash had already lost interest and was looking up and down the tracks outside the vault for something interesting.

“Mr. Potter,” the professor called from the entrance. “Do be cautious, those galleons have to last you through all seven years at Hogwarts, and perhaps a year or so afterwards until you are gainfully employed. Don’t take too much.”

Harry stopped, frowned, and then sighed. He dumped the galleons onto the floor. He stood quietly for a moment, thinking. He could move the coins with levitation, he knew, but trying to heft that many was beyond his current abilities. However . . . he smiled. He stared intently at the massive pile of coins. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster, the coins slid, one by one, to the back of the vault and started forming eight piles. At first Harry moved the coins all the way, but he quickly realized that all he had to do was give each coin a hard push and it would fly the rest of the way. The coins became a blur as they shot from the big stack. After a moment he changed his aim and they started to fly up to hit the back wall and drop back onto their respective piles.

He heard a gong sound in the distance.

Harry was sweating by the time he finished, but there were eight piles of gold coins. He looked back at his professor, proud of his achievement. He couldn’t heft many things at one, but he had stamina! She was clearly surprised at his magical skill. He smirked to himself as he walked to the closest golden pile and started scooping coins into the bag. The pile was almost gone by the time he filled the small backpack — and he could barely lift it. He estimated he had between two hundred and three hundred coins. That should be more than enough, given the average wizard only earned about a hundred galleons a year, according to the Professor.

“How much is in here?” he asked as he turned to the Goblin. Surprisingly, there were now two Goblins standing at the door, hands on their knives. One watched Rainbow Dash outside the vault while the other intently watched the two of them inside.

The Goblin didn’t answer except to scowl as he pointed up with one long finger.

Above the door on the inside was written, “3,000G.”

Harry did the math quickly. Three thousand divided by eight gave him three hundred and seventy-five, divided by twelve was thirty one galleons, which was six thousand two hundred pounds! He couldn’t imagine spending over ten pounds a month, never mind six thousand two hundred, while living at a remote boarding school where all living expenses were covered!

Stupid adults. He rolled his eyes, don’t take too much today, indeed! Seems like only the ponies were smart. Naive, but smart.

Staggering slightly under the weight, he headed for the cart.

The Goblin closed the door behind him, hurried around them to hop into the cart, and then glowered at the slower moving humans. That Dash was already in her seat somewhat spoiled the effect he wanted. The other stood outside their closed vault and watched.

“Let me fix that for you, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said. She looked at the Goblin. “Do I have permission to cast a featherweight spell on Mr. Potter’s backpack?”

At his nod, she touched her wand to his backpack and mumbled something Harry missed. Instantly, it felt as if his backpack had become empty. He took it off and looked inside. Sure enough, it was packed with gold coins.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said relieved that he wouldn’t be lugging that weight all day in the Alley. He also made a mental note to learn that particular spell. Before putting the backpack back on, though, he took out three galleons.

The professor was waiting for him before getting in herself. “Hurry up, Harry,” called Dash, rocking back and forth in the cart and obviously hoping the return trip would be as much fun as the trip down. Grinning as he got in, he held up the three coins. He dropped one into the Goblin’s hand and said, “All three are yours, if the trip back is faster.”

The Goblin grinned evilly as he said, “One speed only.” Professor McGonagall started to look worried. Dash, on the other hand, was ginning widely.

As they slid to stop, Harry, laughing excitedly, handed the Goblin his reward. The Goblin said in a low voice that only Harry could hear, “For certain definitions of one, indeed, the carts have only one speed!”

Harry and Dash were still chuckling as they entered the bank’s main lobby. They looked around and headed for the front doors to meet up with the Grangers and the rest of the string. Neither noticed the almost empty lobby and the tense atmosphere around them, nor the increased number of Goblin soldiers with their hands on their knives and swords while nervous wizards and witches hurried to complete their business. Wizards and witches entering the bank took one look, and turned around to leave.

Harry saw Professor McGonagall looking around and nervously fingering her wand in its holster and wondered why.

Still smiling from the wonderful rollercoaster ride, Harry remembered to ask an important question. “Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, but could I have my vault key, please?”

The professor shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but until you reach your majority, seventeen in the magical world, your key will remain in the hands of your guardian.”

Harry laughed ruefully, “If my Uncle gets hold of that key, the vault will be empty before lunch.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Potter,” said the witch, “I’m referring to your magical guardian, not your muggle guardians.”

Harry frowned. “As far as I know,” he said, “I don’t have a magical guardian.” He looked up at her.

“Ah, well,” she said, “In your case, your magical guardian is Albus Dumbledore. He was appointed by the ministry back when your parents died. He’s responsible for you and your actions while you are in the magical world.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Could I switch to Twilight as my magical guardian?”

“No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Potter,” she said, shaking her head. “While she is a witch, she isn’t part of the British Wizarding community and as such has no legal standing.”

Harry nodded again. Clearly, he needed to get a wizarding solicitor to find out what his options were in this magical world.

Rainbow crossed her arms and started pacing back and forth. “What’s the hold up with the others? I thought everypony else was still in the lobby here.” She rolled her shoulders, “Celestia, I wish I could fly here!” She turned to the Grangers. “Excuse me, do you know where the others went? Was there a problem?”

“Well, I saw them headed for the back of the bank following a Goblin, but I don’t know why,” Mr. Granger said. He nodded to his wife, “We were discussing the charges on changing pounds into galleons, and whether or not having an account here would help.” He frowned. “They don’t have any interest-bearing accounts, and the vaults all have monthly fees.”

Hermione piped up, “I think it was something the girls brought up. It looked like they were finished when Sweetie Belle, I think, handed a bag to the Goblin. He took a look then called over another Goblin.”

Harry said, “Oh. That must have to do with the gems we dug up on Friday.” Dash nodded in understanding but the other adults all looked puzzled.

“But,” Harry asked, “why were our gems different from the ones that Prince Blueblood said Princess Celestia and Princess Luna gave us?” He looked over at the Grangers. “Applejack did give both briefcases to the teller, didn’t she?”

Hermione nodded. The boy noticed Mr. Granger in the background, with raised eyebrows, mouthing ‘Princesses’ to his wife. Oops.

He considered what he knew. The difference must be in the sizes. He knew that the ponies all favoured small gems that could easily be sewn into clothes and added to armour — Rarity’s favourites were barely bigger than grains of rice, although she did have a couple of necklaces and gowns made with bigger gems.

And he remembered how huge the gems had looked in Equestria and how much smaller they appeared here. In fact, now that he thought about it, based on how small his rucksack was and how big his saddlebags were, the size difference was almost double, even if the weight was the same.

What was throwing him off, he realized, was that ponies were quadrupeds while the humans were bipeds. For the same weight, quadrupeds appear much smaller, just as a two-hundred pound dog appears smaller than a two-hundred pound human simply because the animal is not bipedal. Perspective changes everything. A standard rucksack would drag on the ground if tied to a pony’s barrel.

The gems they had collected were all considered too large and gaudy for most ponies — only good for Spike to eat — but maybe the Goblins liked the big gaudy gems?

The fillies watched as Applejack hefted the briefcase with the gold onto the teller’s countertop, followed immediately by the other briefcase with its gems.

The Goblin opened the first and took out a gold ingot. He placed it carefully on the scale beside him and placed various weights on it until it balanced, then removed the rest of the ingots, stacking and counting them quickly. When he finished he gave Applejack a speculative look. He was impressed. She had placed a briefcase weighing seventy-five pounds on his counter as if it were no more than a ten-pound weight. “One thousand, one hundred-fifty galleons,” he stated firmly.

Twilight looked surprised, “But there are twelve hundred ingots,” she said.

He shrugged, “Cost of converting muggle gold ingots into galleons.”

Applejack nudged her and nodded.

Reluctantly, Twilight said, “Alright.”

He folded his hands together and leaned forward, looking her intently in the eyes. “Do you wish to open a vault? For a slight monthly fee we offer a wallet that lets you directly access your galleons without having to carry around the heavy coinage or worrying about having sufficient funds while you are shopping. Or being robbed for carrying so much gold at once.”

After considering her options, Twilight nodded.

The Goblin again reached below his counter and pulled up a dragon-hide wallet. All five mares stepped back, noses wrinkling up at the offensive leathery smell. He looked at them curiously. Twilight took a breath and stepped closer. “Is that wallet the only option? Do you have anything that is not . . . someone’s flesh?”

He studied her carefully, noting the looks of revulsion on the other witches faces. “For a small fee we can enchant a wallet made of Acromantula silk,” he sneered.

Relieved, Twilight said, “Yes, please.”

The Goblin pulled out a paper, wrote something on it, folded it in half, wrote some more, and then dropped the paper into a slot in the counter. He quickly refilled the briefcase and, with difficulty, moved it behind his window. He turned back to Twilight and held up a golden key.

“This is the key to your vault, do not lose it. Anyone who has this key has access to your vault.” He placed a knife on the counter top. “Put a drop of your blood on that key.”

Hesitantly, Twilight took the knife. Grimacing, she made a small cut on a finger, then smeared the blood that welled up onto the key. As she handed the knife back to the Goblin, she noticed the cut had already completely healed. Impressed, she asked, “How does that work?” holding up her cut-free finger.

The Goblin ignored her as he put away the knife and then opened the other briefcase. He studied the gems for a moment. He put on a pair of eyeglasses, removed one gem, and examined it closely. “Are these all about this size?” Sneering seemed the normal facial expression for this Goblin. He dug a hand into the briefcase and let some the gems cascade back inside.

Rarity said, “That size is the easiest for us to work with.”

The Goblin grunted. “We will have to assess these and owl you our offer.”

Twilight nodded agreeably.

“Your address?”

“Number Eleven Magnolia Road, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

“A muggle neighbourhood?” he said, the level of sneering increasing markedly.

“Yes.”

“There is a slight charge for delivery to muggle neighbourhoods.”

Twilight frowned, but nodded, nonetheless.

“Wait over there,” the Goblin waved his hand dismissively in the air, “your wallet will be brought out to you.”

The mares turned to leave when Sweetie Belle spoke up, “Excuse me, sir?”

Scowling at the interruption, the Goblin leaned forward to look over the edge of his counter. He said nothing, just stared at the girl, her two friends pressed up beside her.

She held up a small bag and, voice shaking, said, “We’d like to sell these to you.”

The Goblin rolled his eyes, but reached down and rudely snatched the bag from her hand. He sat back and opened the bag, taking a swift look inside. It was clear to the mares that he was ready to dismiss her out-of-hoof, and Rarity stepped closer, getting ready to say a few words in reprimand to his uncouth behaviour regarding a filly. She could handle the ill-mannered Goblin’s attitude towards her, but to treat fillies that way was another story.

Instead, he stared into the bag and then slowly set it down. Carefully, he reached inside and took out a perfectly square red gem with bevelled edges that was double the size of his thumb. He inspected the stone closely with his eyeglasses. He carefully set the stone back into the bag.

“Stoneface,” he called. While he waited for the other Goblin to arrive, he wrote a quick message on paper and dropped it into the same slot as the previous paper. Then he folded his hands and leaned forward again, and simply looked with a blank expression at the three girls as Stoneface arrived.

“Take these customers to Master Facet.” He handed the bag of gems to the Goblin. He pulled out whatever he had had before and went back to work.

“Umm,” Twilight said uncertainly, “Our wallet?”

Without looking up and in a bored tone, but no longer sneering, the teller said, “It will find you.”

Stoneface had already started for the back of the bank and the group had to hurry to catch up.

Author's Notes:

The official exchange rate in 1991 for Gold bullion was approximately £200 per one troy ounce not £5, which is what J.K. Rowling used as an exchange rate for galleons. Which makes one knut about £0.40, not almost one cent, which is what she wanted to make her math simpler — one galleon is 493 knuts (17 sickles at 29 knuts per) and as close as you can come to five pounds in pennies. That is, one knut is about one penny, at her conversion rate.

25 — The Bank Job

Author's Notes:

300 LIKES! YEAH!
Here's a chapter to celebrate!
Now for 400 . . .

After taking several staircases down, Stoneface stopped in front of a door and knocked on it. He opened the door, walked in, and dropped the bag of gemstones on the desk inside. He exited the room and walked off. The Equestrians exchanged puzzled glances, then Twilight walked into the office, followed by the rest.

The Goblin at the desk was wearing a suit and eyeglasses that had extra lenses suspended above them. He said not a word as he poured the stones out onto his desk. He flipped one of the lenses down over one eye and started dividing the gems into two groups.

As they entered, they noticed two fierce-looking, armoured Goblins standing on either side of the door inside the office. While polished to a gleam, the armour had clearly seen use. Both held spears and were wearing swords and large knives. They would have fit right in with the Royal Guard.

Fluttershy let out a frightened “Eep, and wedged herself between Applejack and Rarity. Pinkie Pie began to shake and stage whispered, “It’s a doozy!” Twilight and Applejack began looking around carefully. The fillies huddled a bit closer together.

The Goblin closely studied the seven gems he had separated from the rest. Finally, he looked up. “Gringotts offers you ten for these seven and ten for the rest.”

“Is that all?” Sweetie Belle said, the other girls echoed her disappointment.

“Maybe one of the regular banks will give us more?” suggested Scootaloo, remembering what the solicitor had said about the other gems, as they looked at each other.

“You misunderstand,” the Goblin said, “That is ten for each of these seven, and ten for the rest.”

Applejack frowned at the Goblin.

The girls looked at each other; that sounded much better — eighty galleons for the four of them to share wasn’t bad at all. They were about to accept when Applejack interrupted.

“Yeh aren’t being honest with us,” Applejack stated flatly.

“Applejack?” Twilight said uncertainly.

Pinkie giggled and pulled out a bag of popcorn and started munching. “And here it comes,” she murmured.

“Ah kin feel it, he ain’t being honest ner fair with us. Them stones are worth far more then what he’s offering. And his original offer was for twenty fer ’em all, not ten each fer the big ones.”

The Goblin stared at her. “Are you calling me a liar?” he said standing up behind his desk.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Ah kin feel it, yer not telling us the truth. Them stones are worth far more’n yer offerin’.”

The Goblin yanked his knife from his belt and leapt onto his desk, yelling “I shall kill you for that insult!” He clearly hoped he could intimidate these witches and make an even bigger profit — the young were new witches and their relatives were magicless wastes of space.

Applejack took a step forward and hunched down, dropping her purse.

“Applejack!” Twilight yelled.

The Goblin grinned viciously at the apparent success of his tactic, the female bowing to his superiority. He jumped off his desk at Applejack. “Cower, you useless muggle!” the Goblin roared.

This was not the first time the mares had been attacked without provocation, and they reacted instantly.

Twilight spun to face the guard closest to her. She crouched slightly as her purse hovered at her side.

His spear fell to the floor as the Goblin pulled his sword with one hand and a knife with the other. They were too close for a spear to be anything but a hindrance.

Rarity, also crouched and faced the other guard, who had mirrored his partner.

A soft glow suffused a spot just above the foreheads of the two mares, one violet and the other blue.

Neither of the guards noticed. They were expecting to see wands, or perhaps knives. They were dismissive of the unarmed defenceless females.

Fluttershy dove for the three girls. She wrapped them in her arms as she carried them to the floor and against the front of the Goblin’s desk.

Applejack dropped her hands to the rock floor.

The Goblin landed in front of her.

She spun around.

He laughed at the female huddled with her back to him.

Applejack threw her weight forward onto her arms.

The Goblin held his knife to slash at the foolish female.

She pulled her knees up to her stomach.

He stepped forward.

She launched her feet backwards in a classic buck. It landed solidly on the Goblins chest, shattering his ribs with a loud crack and launching him over his desk and into the wall behind it.

There was sickening crunch as he hit the wall. He slid to the floor, unconscious, leaving a thin bloody trail on the wall.

The two guards stood, unmoving. The unarmed muggle had easily defeated Master Facet when he should just as easily have defeated her. None of the other females had moved to act aggressively, with the pink-haired one still eating that strange food from her bag. Killing defenceless, females brought no honour. It was better to wait for a superior.

Outside the room they could hear a loud gong reverberating through the building.

Applejack regained her feet and purse, and slowly walked around the desk to look at the Goblin. Gagging slightly, she said, “Twilight? Ah think this here goblin needs a healin’ spell or two. He’s looking mighty poor.”

Twilight looked over at Pinkie Pie, “Pinkie? Do you think you could keep an eye on this guard for me?”

“Okie dokie lokie!” she said, skipping over to stand in front of the guard. She opened one eye until it comically took up most of her face while narrowing the other down to a pin-prick. She stared at the startled Goblin intently. “Want a muffin?” she said, holding one out to him. The bag of popcorn was not in sight. The Goblin eyed the muffin as if he thought it might explode on him.

A wise Goblin, Twilight thought as she joined Applejack.

She looked at the slumped Goblin and winced. She started by casting a healing spell on the Goblin’s head. He would have a severe headache when he woke up, if not a mild concussion.

“These Goblins aren’t as tough as Ah expected. That shouldn’t have done more’n dazed him a bit,” Applejack said, shaking her head.

The guards glanced up at her declaration.

“Heck, even Apple Bloom would have shrugged that off.”

The listening guards stiffened slightly on hearing this.

The little girl peeking around the edge of the desk at the fallen Goblin, nodded her head.

The door to the office flew open and half-a-dozen guards flooded into the room. Seeing that there was no fighting, they moved to perimeter of the room, awaiting further instructions and leaving the females unmolested.

“Oooh!” cried Pinkie, “More Goblins to the party! Is Jareth coming, too?” She darted around, moving across the room to random Goblins. In short order each of the Goblin guards had his sword in one hand and a muffin in the other. None of them were exactly sure how their knives ended up back in their sheaths at their belts.

Moments later, another Goblin came in. This one was obviously a superior and was dressed in a suit. The muffins were quickly hidden behind backs. “Who dares draw a wand in Gringotts!” he yelled, angrily. “Who dares attack a Goblin!”

“You’re not Jareth,” Pinkie said, disappointed.

No one said anything for a moment, but the Goblin immediately noticed the two females behind his employee’s desk. “What are you doing!” he roared, stalking around the desk.

Twilight looked up from where she leaned over the wounded Goblin, “Saving his life,” she said drily.

The goblin stared at her a moment. He saw the soft violet glow in the hair above her forehead with its matching counterpart surrounding the bleeding Goblin on the floor. He turned and pointed at the door guard that had faced off against Twilight, “Report!”

Before the guard had finished speaking, the suited Goblin was inspecting the gems on the desk. They ranged in size from a small tooth to seven that were twice the size of his thumb.

Applejack kept an eye on the Goblin-in-charge while Twilight finished casting her spells on the injured Goblin. Finally, Twilight stood. “That’s all I can do. He’ll live, but he needs to see a professional healer.”

The Goblin turned to her. “Use of a wand inside Gringotts without permission is punishable by death.”

Applejack laughed. “Good thing she don’t have a wand then, ain’t it?”

The Goblin faced Applejack. “You used magic against a Goblin in Gringotts.”

She laughed again. “Eynope. Ah bucked him for attacking me.”

“And I suppose you don’t have a wand either,” he said, scowling.

“Eynope.”

“Impossible.” He pointed at the blood smeared on the wall. “No simple kick could do that.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Are you calling your own guard a liar?”

The guards in the room all stiffened.

The Goblin scowled harder. “He was watching his opponent, not you.”

“So, yer calling me a liar?” She stood straight, her muscles tensing. She was scowling, now.

He studied her stance and demeanour carefully. She wasn’t an ordinary muggle female. Her stance was that of a warrior blooded in combat. She wasn’t bluffing. “Prove you can kick that hard.”

“Right,” she said. She looked around the room, then at the desk. “If’n Ah kick this desk into the wall, would that do?”

He looked at the desk, then at the muggle female in front of him. The desk was solid oak and easily out-weighed the fragile human at least twice, if not three, times. She would have a tough time even moving the desk. He smiled toothily. “Yes.”

Fluttershy shuddered at the display of sharp predator teeth.

Applejack smiled back at him, “Ah’m not responsible for the damage done to the desk or wall.”

He nodded, saying, “Yes.” The only damage would be to her feet. He picked up the bag from the desk and scooped the gems into it. He didn’t want any of them to be jostled and land on the floor for him to have to pick up. Because, of course, anything that falls off a desk immediately rolls underneath the desk. And requires getting down on hands and knees and crawling partway under the desk to retrieve it. Not very dignified, and it wasted time.

Applejack walked to the side of the desk. Pinkie was again eating popcorn out of a large bowl cradled in her arm and had managed to get one of the guards to sample a handful. He seemed to like it, as he was grabbing a second handful. Fluttershy and the girls moved over beside Rarity.

Applejack looked at the desk, took a couple of steps back, and crouched down. She looked over at the Goblin in the suit, nodded once, and then spun to put her back to the desk. She put her hands on the rock floor, leaned forward onto her arms, and then launched herself into a full buck, landing her feet on the edge of the desktop — hitting the side would have merely caved it in.

The desk took off like a shot and slammed into the wall with a loud WHAM! Cracks spider-webbed out from the impact on the wall. The desktop itself broke into four pieces on the grain of the wood and separated from the now warped and broken desk.

The earth-pony in human form stood up, dusting her hands off. “Believe meh now?”

The Goblin stared at the destroyed desk and severely damaged wall. He had felt magic surge into the room, but he couldn’t sense how it had been used. And without a wand or casting a spell, it was nothing that defied any treaty or law of the Goblin Nation. Sourly, he nodded.

He turned to Twilight, “Gringotts offers you twenty for each of the seven gems Master Facet singled out and ten for the remainder.”

Twilight just looked at him, then said, “Don’t talk to me, those gems belong to the fillies.” She pointed at the three girls.

The Goblin looked surprised and turned to the girls.

Sweetie Belle looked back at him, took a shaky breath, and said, “Make it thirty for those seven, thirty for the remainder, and it’s a deal.”

The Goblin sneered, “Do you think me a fool? I haven’t examined them properly, they could be flawed. Twenty-five for the seven and Twenty-five for the remainder.”

“Your Master Gemmologist looked at them quite closely and was quite pleased. Do you not trust one of your own that has the experience of a Master? Twenty-seven for the seven and the same for the remainder.”

They settled on twenty-seven for each of the seven gems and twenty for the remainder after she finally threatened to take the gems to a muggle jeweller. Just from what their solicitor had told them, they should be able to get that much from a normal jeweller.

As she half-whispered to the others before finally agreeing, “Hey, that’s over fifty-two and a quarter each, not bad for an afternoon’s work!”

She saw the smile the Goblin had as he dropped the bag of gems in his pocket. She should have started at forty instead of thirty, she realized! But then again, she knew banks had to turn a profit. And haggling was haggling. Both parties had to feel they got a bad deal or a good deal. And she was happy with what they had made.

“Okay,” she said, “Can we get four bags with the galleons evenly divided in them?”

The Goblin turned back to Sweetie Belle. He actually looked surprised. “You want to take the galleons with you?”

“Sure, why not?”

“That’s a lot of galleons.”

She shrugged, not seeing the problem.

He blinked a few times, seeing that she was serious.

“It would be better to put them into a vault and use wallets to remove the galleons when you need them.”

Sweetie Belle frowned, but then Apple Bloom said in a low voice, “That’s a lot of gold coins, Sweetie.”

Startled, Sweetie looked back at Apple Bloom. “An entire bag of bits is heavy!” Apple Bloom explained. She knew, from all the times she had helped out at her sister’s stand in Ponyville’s Marketplace that a lot of bits weighed a lot!

Sweetie Belle turned back to the Goblin. “Alright. Setup one vault and give us four wallets made of akro . . . aacrom . . . .” She stopped and looked over at her sister.

“Acromantula silk,” Rarity provided.

“That,” Sweetie Belle said, nodding.

The Goblin nodded, He pulled an unbroken inkwell and paper from the desk, and started writing things down. After a moment he dropped the finished message into a drawer in the desk he had to force open. Apparently, even though it was wrecked, the spells on the desk still worked.

“One vault?” whispered Scootaloo.

“Yep, it’ll be cheaper, I think, and if we need more money we can always go dig up some more gems next week,” Sweetie whispered back.

“How’ll we know we’re running out of galleons in the vault?” Apple Bloom innocently asked the Goblin. He turned from the desk and stared at her.

“You are now the tenth largest depositor in Gringotts with two hundred nine thousand galleons. I can’t imagine what you would buy that would come close to depleting your vault. However, should your balance fall below one hundred galleons the inside of the wallet will turn green. At fifty galleons it will turn orange. At ten galleons it will turn black. At zero it won’t open.”

All the mares and fillies, except Twilight, stared at the Goblin with their jaws dropped. If they had been in Equestria, their jaws would have been on the ground.

Twilight stared at everyone’s reactions. The values mentioned seemed high to her, but then again she never had to deal with money. Anything she wanted she just told the merchant to bill to the palace, as Princess Celestia had told her to do. She had a bowl in her room that magically refilled when she took out bits for incidental spending — like at Sugar Cube Corner, or the Secondhoof Bookstore when she was looking for rare books she didn’t already have, or for Harry to get a treat, for example. She shrugged. Money wasn’t that important, anyway. Books, on the other hand . . . .

“Two hundred and nine thousand?” squeaked Scootaloo.

“When he said twenty-seven, he meant twenty-seven thousand, not just twenty-seven galleons,” half whispered Sweetie Belle, stunned at the discovery.

The Goblin heard her and stared back, clearly aghast as he realized that the young witch had haggled like a pro and hadn’t even known the value of what she was selling. He closed his eyes, then shot them open. Sweetie Belle wondered what he was thinking.

The Goblin stared at them a moment longer, then took out the bag and removed the very large bevelled purple stone. He held it up between his thumb and pointer finger and cleared his throat. “If you find any more of these gems, Gringotts would be most interested in acquiring them. The larger, the better. They are called painite.”

“Why would we do that?” Apple Bloom said. “We have plenty of bits . . . galleons in the vault, we really don’t need any more.”

The Goblin frowned, then said, “If you were to bring us more, we would forgive certain fees in addition to paying you top galleon for the gems. We would even . . . open up certain ventures for your investment.”

Rarity walked over and took a closer look at the gem he was holding up. “Oh, yes,” she said brightly, “The Royal Guards at home enchant these gems to make their armour more effective. They prefer the smaller ones, though, they are easier to inset into the armour and easier to charge for the average uni . . . uh, wizard. The magic to charge them is proportional to their volume, you know.” She looked at it pensively. “I usually ignore them when I find them as my customers don’t like the way those gems interfere with their spell-casting if there are any sewn into their clothes.”

The Goblin wearing the suit kept his expression somewhat under control, but he still looked startled. Clearly, he realized that none of the mares in the room were simple muggles, or even average witches. The other Goblins looked shocked at such casual use of an extremely rare gem. And what that mention meant for the actual rarity of the item.

The Goblin nodded politely, then said, “Those two,” he pointed at the two guards who had originally been in the office, “will conduct you to the lobby. Your wallets should be ready by the time you get there. If you desire to sell Gringotts any more gems, ask for Knifethrower. I will deal fairly with you.”

Applejack gave him a hard look, then slowly nodded.

He opened a drawer and removed a key and knife. He handed both to Apple Bloom as the closest filly. While she was busy, the Goblin pulled out another paper wrote on it and dropped it in the outbound slot.

After the fillies all bled over the key to their vault and gave their names, Knifethrower declared their business concluded.

It was a quiet group that exited the office. The fillies were mulling over their new-found wealth and the mares were wondering why the fillies’ gems rated such special treatment. The gems Twilight had given their teller in the lobby had been so casually handled by comparison.

“There they are,” Dash exclaimed pointing. Harry had to admit he relaxed a bit at seeing his friends and the adults coming out of a door at the back of the bank. The two guards escorting them were a surprise. Pinkie munching on popcorn and sharing it with one of the guards was a bit unexpected, but, hey, Pinkie. After her performance at The Leaky Cauldron he should be relieved she wasn’t leading a parade!

Before they were halfway to the rest of the group, several Goblins came hurrying out of another door at the back of the bank. Two of them were carrying wallets, one had a staff almost as tall as he was, with a large lens at his eyelevel, and the last simply followed the others.

The Goblins with the wallets caught up to the group at the front doors to the bank. One Goblin walked up to Twilight and silently held out a wallet. “Thank you,” she said taking it.

The other Goblin walked up to the three fillies, bowed, and held out four wallets. “Oh,” said Sweetie Belle, “These are so soft!” as she took one, followed quickly by the other two. “Oh, you’re right,” said Apple Bloom. “Here,” said Scootaloo, handing one to Harry. “We opened a vault with our gems. We don’t have to worry about bits while we’re here,” she said with a smirk, “the Goblins gave us two hundred and nine thousand galleons for them.” The eyes of the remaining adults, and Hermione, went wide as their jaws dropped open.

Scootaloo snickered, “And they wanted to know if we could get more!” Surprised at the amount, Harry still rolled his eyes at her comment. “How many buckets of gems should we give them?” he asked sarcastically. She laughed. “I think they’d fall over in a faint like Fluttershy if we brought in a bucket!” She got a mischievous look in her eyes, “Still, that would be funny, wouldn’t it?” Harry grinned back at her.

The two Goblins standing beside them exchanged glances.

The other two Goblins had stopped some distance away and the one with the staff gasped loudly as he looked through the lens atop it. Harry looked over at him as the Goblin had his companion look through it as well. He, too, gasped.

The Goblin in front of Twilight said, “To seal the wallet to yourself,” he glanced at the other mares, “and anyone else you wish to grant access to it, put a drop of blood inside. Then only you or any others who are sealed to the wallet may remove funds.”

The other Goblin was giving the same instructions to the fillies. He held out his hand with a small silver knife on it. Sighing, the three fillies each took the knife and blooded their wallets before handing the knife to Harry, who followed their example. He had bled often enough at the hands of Dudley that sticking himself with a knife was nothing.

The Grangers watched avidly.

When Harry looked over again to the other two Goblins, they were already walking away to the back of the bank, whispering to each other. The Goblin not carrying the staff was waving his arms around wildly. Harry saw that Professor McGonagall, frowning in concentration, was also watching those two Goblins.

Seeing that their duties were completed, the two Goblins in front of them gave short bows to Twilight and the fillies, then left. Harry noticed that Professor McGonagall seemed surprised at the Goblins’ actions.

Twilight dropped her wallet into her purse, after baptising it with her and her friends’ blood.

26 — The Shop Around the Corner

As they left the bank, it was Scootaloo and Apple Bloom at his sides, each holding one of his hands, while Sweetie Belle trailed behind.

Their next stop was the bookstore, to the delight of both Hermione and Twilight. Dash chose to stay outside and watch the people in the alley. And wish she could fly while in this world.

Professor McGonagall warned, “We are on a schedule, so we can’t spend more than half an hour in the bookstore!”

Twilight walked in first, squee’d, and disappeared into the racks of bookshelves before either Rarity or Applejack could grab her. They both sighed and set off to find the book-hound. Pinkie Pie said, “Party books!” and disappeared almost as fast as Twilight had. Fluttershy wandered off as well with a loud, for her, “I wonder what books they have on the animals here?”

Hermione longed to follow Twilight, Harry could see, but her parents guided her to the register. The rest of the herd followed her.

“Here for your Hogwarts’ books?” asked the witch behind the counter. At Hermione’s and the other girls’ eager nods, he said, “The books are sorted into the different years over there,” she pointed to seven large boxes, numbered one to seven, on the opposite side of the store. Each was piled high with bags. “Each bag has all the books you’ll need for the coming year. Just go to the box with your year on it, pull out a bag, and Bob’s your uncle!”

Scootaloo gasped. “I get an uncle named Bob with my books?” she said excitedly, eyes wide in delight.

The witch behind the counter gave her a puzzled look. “You’re not from England, are you? That’s just an expression meaning you’re done.”

“Oh.” Scootaloo said in a disappointed tone. Harry put his arm over her shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, “We’re your herd.” She smiled up at him gratefully. “Want to look around and see what kind of books they have?”

Hermione had already disappeared after Twilight, her mother admonishing, “Only three books, Hermione!” A faint, “Yes, mum,” came from the bookshelves.

Several minutes later, Harry saw Rarity, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie drag Twilight, her arms full of books, out from the back of the store, sputtering, “But I barely started that aisle! And the upstairs!” She gazed longingly at the staircase she could see ahead.

Pinkie giggled, “Silly, why don’t you just grab a catalogue from the front counter like this one?” She waved a thick magazine in front of Twilight. Twilight’s eyes locked onto the catalogue and she started following it like a cat tracking a laser dot. Rarity and Applejack shook their heads and followed behind her to make sure she didn’t suddenly make a break for the first-floor staircase. Pinkie continued, “Then you can order one of everything and have it delivered!” Twilight moaned and started to drool.

Harry shook his head. Knowing people as well as he did, Harry had grabbed Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More). Then came Animagus: Harnessing Your Inner Animal because he was curious if his Equestrian form really was his animagus. Finally, almost as soon as he noticed it, he grabbed Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimensy. That last one scared him a bit — it was possible for wizards to read his mind? The spells might be a bit beyond him at the moment, but it was better to be prepared than caught lacking. Dudley had taught him that lesson.

Sweetie Belle had Hogwarts: A History, Modern Magical History; One Minute Feasts - It’s Magic! and Enchantment in Baking. Harry rolled his eyes at those last two. With her record for starting fires in the kitchen he shuddered to think what she could achieve with Earth’s magic added — and hands. Apple Bloom had found A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions, Good Gardens Guide 1990, and Shrubs & Trees for the Garden. Scootaloo had picked up The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle; Voyages with Vampires; and Wanderings with Werewolves, as well as several books that all started Harry Potter and . . . .

Scootaloo stopped in front of Harry. “Hey, Harry, did you see these books?”

Harry stared at the books, then grabbed the top one off the stack she was carrying, Harry Potter and the Pirates of Connacht. He quickly skimmed the first few pages. “What a load of tripe!” he said in disgust. “This thing claims to be the true story of one of my adventures as a child! It’s . . . it’s . . . garbage!” How dare they! How dare these . . . lowly wizards . . . tell lies about his life! He felt as if he knew just the awful, painful, delightful curses he wanted to hit them with . . . except . . . he didn’t know any spells like that. He shook his head uncertainly. He was a good colt!

He stalked to the front of the store to find Twilight with her stack of books at the register, the clerk ringing them up. “Twilight,” he said, furious.

Twilight jumped at his tone and looked at him worriedly.

He held up the book. “This is a bunch of lies about me!”

She gasped and grabbed the book from him. She started reading, quickly flicking the pages. She looked at him, no less upset than he was. She glanced around for Professor McGonagall. The Professor was at the front of the store talking with the Grangers while they waited on their daughter to return with her selections.

They both stalked over to the professor. “Professor McGonagall,” Twilight said tightly, “What are the libel laws like in this world?”

“Whatever do you mean?” asked the professor.

Twilight showed her the book.

“Ah, well, I’m not a solicitor, but the libel laws state clearly that you cannot print lies about anyone. And to use another person’s reputation to sell a product without their permission is also illegal, I believe.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “Fine! Where can I find a solicitor?”

The professor glanced out the front window of the store. “Well, the Goblins might be able to suggest someone for you. Other than that, I don’t know of any lawyers, personally, who deal with issues like this.”

Twilight turned to the boy. “Harry, I’m going to have a discussion with the Goblins. I’ll catch up with you later.”

She turned and headed for the door. “Twilight,” he said chasing after her.

“What!”

“Pay for the book!”

She stopped and blushed. “Right.” She headed back to the register and handed the wallet to Rarity. “Take care of things for me. I have an errand to run.” She showed the book in her hand to the clerk, who nodded. Twilight spun on her heel and headed out for Gringotts.

Harry looked up, “Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“Why are there books about me? Why did all those people in the pub come at me? Why am I a celebrity?”

She studied him carefully. The fillies were at his side, listening just as attentively. She sighed. “I suppose those dreadful relatives of yours told you nothing of this world?”

He frowned heavily. How did she know about the Dursleys? And how they had treated him? He shook his head, distrust flooding his mind. This would require a bit more thought, later.

She tsked. “Ten years ago a powerful and terrible Wizard was trying to take over the Wizarding World. He was so powerful, only the Headmaster could stand up to him in a duel. This vile wizard believed that only those of ‘pure’ blood should be allowed in our society. That the muggle-borns should be excluded, killed, even. He regarded the muggles as little better than animals — to be avoided where possible, and exterminated where not.

“He and his followers killed scores of people. Almost anyone who disagreed with him died. Whether they were pure-blood, half-blood, or muggle-born mattered not to him. Only the very brave defied him. Sometimes even the rumour that you were against him would draw his ire. Entire families were wiped out. Everyone was terrified of him. And nearly every family that did survive lost someone to his Death Eaters. Those were terrible times, indeed.

“The Ministry was about to collapse and the rebellion succeed, when he decided to attack your parents.” She shook her head sadly. “Fine people they were, your parents. I had them both in my classes. They were both in Gryffindor House, my House, and even made Head Prefects their seventh year, you know.”

She paused. “I don’t know why, but He Who Must Not Be Named . . . ,”

Harry could hear the capital letters as she said that. Rarity and Applejack were listening in, as were the Grangers.

“. . . decided to target them specifically, although they did defy him, fighting his followers, and even him, personally, several times. Perhaps Headmaster Dumbledore knows more. In any case, on Halloween night, 1981, he attacked your home. Your parents, I’m sorry to say, died fighting him off. Then he tried to kill you. He used the most evil curse known, the Avada Kedavra — it kills instantly when it hits you. Even if it just touches your hair, you die.” She looked out the storefront window, then back at Harry. “That’s one of the three curses that is an automatic life sentence in Azkaban, the wizarding prison, if you use it.

“It failed. You lived. And he was destroyed.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Almost everyone thinks he died, that you somehow killed him. Headmaster Dumbledore disagrees. He says the dark wizard was reduced to a spirit and is still alive, in a sense.” She looked at Harry intently. “With his ‘death,’ the revolt fell apart. His followers immediately fell to fighting among themselves, and the Ministry was able to recover and arrest them.

“Everyone was ecstatic that the Wizard had been destroyed, and they decided you were their saviour. After all, he had died attacking you, and all that happened to you was that scar on your forehead.” She glanced at it. “Dumbledore sent someone to your home to rescue you, then hid you away where no one in the wizarding world could find you. And, thus, you disappeared from our world.

“Rumours went wild about where you were and what you were doing. And how you had destroyed the dark wizard. In the absence of information, they made up their own stories.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hence the scene in The Leaky Cauldron. And those books. To put it simply, they feel you are a hero for saving them from that dark wizard.”

Harry looked down at the floor in deep thought. He knew the Dursleys had always lied about how his parents had died. A car crash didn’t explain his occasional dream about a green light and an explosion. He needed far more information.

In a soft, kindly voice, she added, “I suggest you get the book, The Last Dark Lord. It has the most complete account of that time period, and has a chapter on your parents.”

Sweetie murmured, “I’ll get it,” and left for the bookshelves.

It took another fifteen minutes to get them all rung out at the register. Time that allowed Harry to think about what the professor had told him, and calm down from his fury about the lies in those books. He hadn’t been that furious at anypony, ever, that he could remember. And here he had done it, twice, today. He shook his head ruefully. He had better control of his temper than that. He would make sure to meditate every night before bed for the next week or so.

It was just that . . . something about the way these wizards acted just . . . set him off. Maybe it was the feeling that they somehow thought they were superior to him. As if. He snorted and grabbed hold of Scootaloo’s hand. He would think about what he had just been told, later. After he had read that book. Twilight had taught him always to get the facts before making a decision. Which was ironic, considering how often she flustered herself with a problem before doing her research.

Rarity stared with dismay at the numerous bags and piles of extra books.

The Witch behind the register said, “Oh, are you muggles? I can shrink everything for you if you want, then when you get home just tap them with one of the children’s new wands and they’ll pop right back to normal.”

“Oh, then you can put everything in my rucksack,” volunteered Sweetie.

He watched carefully as witch performed the spell with her wand. He was absolutely, definitely, going to learn that spell! His studies with Twilight were beginning to pay off as he could almost see the way the spell was put together. He would have to try it once they returned to the house.

Sweetie smirked at him, “Oh, so you’re finally going to let me carry your books to school, are you?” She fluttered her eyes as she tilted her head. He rolled his eyes as the other two fillies laughed.

The fillies had been pestering him almost every day in Ponyville to carry his books for him during the school year. It seemed to be a pony tradition for fillies to carry the school books of colt friends. And, as the only colt member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, they felt they should do that. His response every time had been, “I can bloody well carry my own books!” — even if his saddlebags were overly large for his frame and almost dragged on the ground. He wasn’t sure why he was so insistent, just that picking one of the three would probably annoy the other two and start another round of incessant squabbling.

Minutes later they were out the door and headed for their next destination, a place called Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in a pale purple set of robes.

She smiled at Professor McGonagall. “Another group?” she said warmly.

“Yes,” said the older Witch, “Five this time.”

“Oh, my. That’ll take a few minutes. I have another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

Hermione handed her rucksack to her parents.

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Hermione on a stool next to him, while Harry and the other girls filed in behind and watched. She slipped a long robe over the girl’s head, and began to pin it to the right length.

Rarity and the others wandered around the shop looking at the various fabrics and items on display.

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Oh, yes,” said Hermione enthusiastically.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”*

Harry couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Great. The first wizarding kid they meet is a prat and a bully. Typical.

“Do you have a broom?”

“Oh, no,” said Hermione. “Why? Is it important?”

He sniffed, then said suspiciously, “Are you a muggle-born?”

“Er, yes?”

He sighed, as if deeply offended. “That explains it,” he said derisively.

“What?” Hermione said, perplexed.

He sniffed again, making a face as if smelling something bad, and looked up and away from her, ignoring her question.

Frowning at the obvious snub, Hermione stood in silence until the witch working on his robe said to the boy, “That’s you done, my dear.”

Sneering at the witch, he hopped down from the footstool. “Took long enough,” he said disparagingly. “Well,” he said, looking at Hermione and the others with a dismissive glance. “I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose. At least you won’t be in Slytherin,” he said with a sneer.

Scootaloo handed her rucksack to Harry and took the boy’s place. She managed to keep a straight face until the bell at the front of the store tinkled to indicate he had left. “Wow,” she said, “What. A. Jerk.” The others all tittered while Harry shook his head.

However, before the seamstress could get started, Rarity came over. “That won’t be necessary, my dear,” she said to the witch. “Just provide me with one each of a colt and filly’s robe.” The witch looked at her blankly as Madam Malkin looked up sharply.

“I meant, boy’s and girl’s,” Rarity explained. “I’m a professional fashion designer and seamstress. All I need is a template.”

Madam Malkin was getting a bit red in the face, Harry saw. She was not happy at being upstaged in her own shop.

Oblivious to the witch’s reaction, Rarity held out a sash she had taken from a display. “What material is this? It’s absolutely marvellous! Do you have a bolt or two of it?”

The seamstress blinked, taken off guard by the question. “It’s acromantula silk. It’s very expensive, though. I think I might have an unused bolt.” She looked at the door to her stockroom.

“Does it take dye colours well?”

Madam Malkin nodded.

“Wonderful!” said a delighted Rarity. “I’ll take all you have!” She paused a moment in thought.

“And can you get me more bolts? Princess Luna would look absolutely stunning in a midnight-blue dress made from this! And I could make a matching dress in Princess Celestia’s day colours!” She stopped and smirked, “And Princess Twilight will have to beat off the stallions with a stick!” she snickered as the fillies exchanged excited looks. “Oh, this is so exhilarating! This flows so well!” She dragged the material across her arm and shivered. “I can make it look like an extension of their manes! This will cement my position as the premiere fashion designer in . . . ,” she caught herself, “. . . at home!” She spun in place. “I can hardly wait for the next Grand Galloping Gala at the Palace!”

She stopped in mid-spin and fixed the shopkeeper with a stare. “How long is a bolt?” She didn’t notice the Grangers and Professor McGonagal staring at her as they listened.

The witch replied, “Forty yards.”

Rarity frowned, “How long is a yard?”

The witch held her hands apart.

Rarity nodded, frowning, as she calculated. She looked back at the seamstress. “How soon can you get me ten bolts, with a reasonable retail mark-up, of course.”

Madam Malkin stared back at her. “That’s four hundred galleons a bolt!” she said after a moment. “And you want ten?” This strange woman was offering her twenty year’s wages in one sale! “A week, I think?”

It was Rarity’s turn to frown. She turned to Sweetie Belle. “Dear, do you think you could loan me the funds for this until I can get more bits transferred over?”

Sweetie Belle shrugged. “Sure. How much do you need?”

Rarity turned to the seamstress, “Would two thousand up front be acceptable? And I’ll take the one bolt you have on hand?”

The witch nodded numbly. Her sales-witch stood nearby and stared, eyes wide at the sums being tossed around.

Sweetie Belle pulled her wallet out, started to open it, and then stopped uncertainly. “Uh, how do we do this? Two thousand coins is an awful lot. Do I just pour them out onto the floor?”

Madam Malkin blinked a couple of times, then said, “Oh. You’ve never used one of Gringotts’ wallets before?” If she was surprised that the older witch was asking the younger one for such a substantial loan, she hid it well.

The girl nodded, “That’s right.”

Madam Malkin smiled. “It’s really easy for something like this. Just open the wallet and say into it, ‘Transfer two thousand galleons to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions shop account as down-payment on four thousand four hundred galleons for eleven bolts of acromantula silk, I will be taking one bolt with me when I leave. Transaction complete.’ You want to make sure to add any information that might be important in such transaction, such as if it is a down-payment and if you are taking anything with you. That way, when you review your accounts later there will be that additional information to remind you of precisely what you were doing in that transaction.”

The shopkeeper said it a second time, slower, with Sweetie Belle carefully repeating it into the wallet. A moment later, there was a loud DING from the register at the front of the shop. Madam Malkin hurried over to it and then returned, smiling broadly. “Perfect!” she said. “Now let me get that bolt for you.” She headed into her stockroom and returned a moment later with the four-foot-long bolt of cloth.

“Here you go . . . Miss?”

“Rarity. And this is my sister Sweetie Belle. That’s Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger,” she said as she pointed at each.

Both the shopkeeper and the sales-clerk stared at Harry for a moment. Madam Malkin shook her head briefly, and said “And here’s a receipt for you listing the purchase. I’ll owl you when the other ten bolts get here. What’s the address?” She noted it down, frowning. “A muggle address, so I’ll make sure the owl goes at night. Okay?”

Rarity gave her sister a hug after putting the shrunken bolt in Sweetie Belle’s rucksack, as well as the two sample sets of robes — gratis for making such a large purchase. “Thank you, dear.” Sweetie Belle hugged her back with a soft, “Anytime, sis.”

The fashion-designer turned to the other mares, “And don’t any of you tell Twilight, either! I want to surprise her with this.” The agreement came with many eye-rolls and a bit of grandstanding by Dash that, “Of course, I won’t tell Twilight.”

The Grangers silently listened, eyes wide at the revelation that the nice young woman they had met and were shopping with was a princess! Professor McGonagall hid it better, but she, too, had noticed Rarity’s slip. Harry sighed. That secret hadn’t lasted long. The ponies hadn’t even been with the wizards and witches here a full day!

Just as they were leaving the shop, Twilight caught up with them. She did not look happy.

“Woah thar, Twilight,” Applejack said on seeing her friend, “Is every thin’ alright?

Twilight took a deep breath and looked over at the colt. “The Goblins have told me that there is basically nothing we can do about those books, Harry.”

Harry stared at her, stunned. “Nothing?” he repeated breathlessly.

“It seems,” she growled, “that your magical guardian, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, has given them permission to produce those books.” A small smile graced her lips, “However, the Goblins suggested a strategy. Starting tomorrow, and every day for a week, we will be running a full-page ad in the four largest circulation newspapers in Wizarding Britain declaring the books to be complete and total fabrications, published without your personal knowledge or permission. That the only thing factual about them is your name. And that you have received not a single solitary bit from their publication. Not to mention that they’re making profit off the fact that you were orphaned that terrible night ten years ago and had to grow up never knowing your parents.”

It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. Hopefully, that would kill the market for those books. He doubted it, though. However, if he ever had the chance he was going to let that Albus bloke know his displeasure! He frowned, wondering if this Albus was related to Headmaster Dumbledore. His frown deepened. It was highly unlikely that there were two Albus Dumbledore’s in the wizarding world. Just hearing that name spoken made him . . . angry for some reason.

Harry shook his head to get the bad thoughts out. “Thank you for trying,” he said.

Twilight smiled, “Anytime, Harry, anytime. I just wish I could do more.”

The girls had rotated positions again, with Apple Bloom acting as rear guard.

Their next stop was a shop named simply, Ollivanders. Below it was: Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c.

Author's Notes:

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

A.N. In 1991 the average non-menial worker in Great Britain earned about £20,000 a year. The official exchange rate in 1991 for Gold bullion was approximately £200 per one troy ounce, which is what a galleon seems to be. Thus, the average yearly wizard’s salary was 100 galleons. (If the wizards earned significantly more than that, the wizards would move to the muggle-side simply for the luxuries they could afford while still working in the wizard world — even the discount charges from the Goblins would still make it cheaper to live as a muggle while working as a wizard. That is, if you could work at your present job and live in a location where you could rent a house with all the luxuries you wanted instead of a single-room efficiency apartment near where you worked, for the same cost, where would you live?)

Which means that buying a wand at five galleons (the canon price) was more than two weeks salary! It’s clear to see why the Weasleys are so poor. With four children in school, soon to be five, the supplies would eat up most of Arthur’s salary! (If you haven’t heard, J.K. Rowling has declared that attendance at Hogwarts is free – no tuition or boarding costs.)

The most expensive cloth in the world is from Vucana sheep at ~$2,000-$3,000 a yard.

And if you notice any formating errors, please tell me. For some reason, starting last week, copying the chapters from MS Word turns everything into one paragraph. Tedious and annoying to fix.

27 — It’s Bigger on the Inside

Ollivanders was a rather small shop, but somehow, as they all filed in, it seemed to accommodate them without overcrowding. A bell tinkled somewhere in the back of the shop. All of them except Professor McGonagall stared around at the thousands of small narrow boxes stacked right to the ceiling and that crowded the shelves behind the counter. It was preternaturally quiet and Harry could hear himself breathing. Magic seemed to fill the small shop thick enough to almost taste.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Startling them all, an old man was abruptly standing behind the counter. His wide, pale, watery eyes shone like silvery moons through the gloom of the shop.

He looked at Harry, but only in passing as he studied each of the Equestrians in turn. His gaze lingered on Twilight. Twilight’s hair seemed to have gained volume and for a moment Harry thought he saw it waving gently, as if in a breeze. But when he blinked and looked again, it wasn’t moving.

Then the old wand-maker spotted Professor McGonagall. “Minerva! Minerva McGonagall! Third time this year, isn’t it? No difficulties with your wand, I trust?”

She gave him a small smile, “Hello as well, Mr. Ollivander. And yes it’s still serving me well. I have five for you today.” She nudged Harry forward.

“Ah yes,” said the old man, turning his gaze on the young boy. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”*

Mr. Ollivander stepped around the counter. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

“Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”*

Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

“And that’s where . . . .”

Mr. Ollivander reached toward the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. Harry stepped back. The old man stopped, his finger pointing.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . .”*

He shook his head sadly.

“Well, Mr. Potter, which is your wand arm?”

Harry frowned, he had to stop and think. After all, he had spent the last year in Equestria on all fours and being left or right handed had been a non-issue because he had used his magic for almost everything that would have involved hands. Finally, he said, “I’m right-handed.”

He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons.”* The mares again shuddered. The Grangers and Professor McGonagall were frowning slightly at the mares’ reactions, clearly wondering why.

“No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.*

“Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander,” Harry said, pulling off his rucksack and setting it on the counter. “I was wondering if you could make me a wand using these.” He pulled a small square of paper from the rucksack and carefully unfolded it. Curled inside were three hairs, each longer than his arm. One of was a deep midnight blue that bordered on black, with occasional bright sparks that randomly drifted into view and then disappeared. The second was a brilliant rainbow of yellows that seemed to glow and pulse with the light of the sun. The third one was a light purple that seemed to shimmer without moving. He then pulled out a long piece of wood, an eighteen-inch long by one-inch diameter piece of a tree branch, which barely fit in the rucksack with all the coins, and placed it beside the paper.

Ollivander was in front of him almost immediately. He stared at the three hairs and the wood.

Harry pulled the ends of the midnight blue and yellow hairs off the paper. “These are from two alicorns, sisters.” He pointed at the third. “That one is also from an alicorn, recently ascended, and unrelated to the other two.” After a brief paused, he added, “An alicorn is a winged unicorn.”

“Yes,” said the old wand-maker quietly.

Harry pointed at the wooden piece on the counter. “And this is from a living tree that housed a library.” Twilight smirked beside Harry. He heard Hermione, behind them, gasp. He twisted and looked back at her, “Twilight and I used to live there.”

There was a second gasp, and a weak, envious, “You lived in a library?”

The wand-maker didn’t appear to be breathing as he stared at the hairs and wood. Carefully, he pushed the purple hair to one side. “This would be incompatible with the other two,” he whispered. Likewise he pushed away the small branch from the remains of the Golden Oaks Library. “No, no,” he said softly, “Only cocobolo wood will do for these two.” He looked up sharply at Harry. “They were freely given?”

Harry nodded, “I didn’t even ask for them, they just sent them to me.”

“Powerful, very powerful,” muttered the old man looking at the hairs. “It will take seven days,” he said looking back up at Harry.

Harry nodded.

“What would you like done with the excess? A wand will only use a third of these lengths.”

Harry shrugged. “You can keep it. I’m sure they don’t want them back.”

The wand-maker slowly nodded, then gently took the two alicorn hairs and set them on a wooden tray he produced from under the counter.

Mr. Ollivander turned to Sweetie Belle, but before he could ask which was her wand arm, she laid a hair on the counter. “This is from a unicorn. I would like to use it.” Rarity was grinning happily. “And it was freely given.” She grinned up at her sister.

Ollivander spent a long time staring at the hair, Sweetie Belle, and Rarity before he nodded respectfully to the mare. “Yes, I can see that it will suit you perfectly,” he said to Sweetie Belle. He carefully wrapped it back up in its paper envelope and placed it on another wooden tray.

Apple Bloom placed one of her sister’s hairs on the counter, with a piece of wood. “This is fresh from the first apple tree planted on our farm by my great-great-great-grandfather. And the hair is from an earth-pony. Both freely given.”

The wand-maker stared at Applejack, who wasn’t bothering to hide her proud smile. He nodded, again respectfully, to the mare. “Yes, a perfect match,” he said to the filly.

Scootaloo was next, placing a bright blue feather and matching hair, both of which seemed to simmer with a rainbow of colours. She said, happily, “A feather and hair from the fastest Pegasus in . . . ,”

Apple Bloom kicked her in the ankle.

“OW! . . . in the world,” she finished awkwardly, glaring at Bloom as she rubbed her ankle.

The old man stared at Rainbow Dash, taking in her outrageous hair style and the way she was bouncing up and down on her toes, grinning like a fool. He slowly nodded.

“We will just need to find the appropriate piece of wood for your wand,” he said to the filly.

He looked over at Pinkie Pie, who was noshing on a muffin she hadn’t had in hand when they walked in. Eyes twinkling, she held out her other hand and offered him a cupcake. Slowly, not taking his eyes off of hers, he reached out and took the pastry. “Thank you,” he whispered.

The Grangers and Professor McGonagall were watching this closely, especially the professor. Harry shook his head slightly at her expression. Hadn’t she seen someone bring in their own magical cores for a wand before?

Hermione stared at the wand boxes behind the counter, and at the four trays and their contents, with a wistful expression. Harry thought she was disappointed at not being able to have a special wand. He remembered how her devotion to books reminded him of Twilight.

He nudged Twilight and handed her the hair and library tree wood and nodded at Hermione. Twilight shrugged, but smiled. She had no use for one of her hairs, and the wood was simply one of the pieces left over from her beloved library. If the young human girl could make use of it in a wand, then Harry couldn’t see why she wouldn’t let the girl do so. It would be her library tree living on, used by someone who loved books as much as she did. Perhaps it would give Hermione as much happiness as the library had given Twilight..

“Hermione,” she said quietly, “here.” She held out both the hair and the wood. “I’d like you to have these, if you want them.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Did that wood really come from a tree with a library in it?” she asked breathlessly as she took the two proffered items.

Twilight nodded. “Yes, it’s over three hundred years old.”

Mr. Granger spoke up, “The tree or the library?”

Twilight smiled again, a bit sadly, “Why, both!”

Hermione turned to her parents, “Can I?”

They shrugged. “Sure,” her father said, “If no one has an objection.”

Ollivander looked at Twilight, “Are you freely giving these gifts to this young witch with your blessings?”

“Of course,” the disguised alicorn said, smiling a bit sadly.

The wand-maker turned to the girl and studied her carefully. He said, “You are receiving a triple-blessed wand, take care of it and it will take care of you.”

She looked back at him, nodding slowly, and frowning at his choice of words.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Ollivander said to the adults, “Come with me,” he said, and indicated Harry, Sweetie, and Scoots as he gathered and stacked the trays, and led them into the back room of the shop.

As they entered the small workshop, he said, “I want each of you to walk along the wall there,” he pointed to one wall of the shop which had dozens of boxes, “and hold your wand arm out over the boxes as you walk by them. There is no hurry. When you feel a pull, note which box it is and keep walking. If you don’t feel any other pulls, go back to the box and bring me the piece of wood that calls out to you the most. If you feel another pull elsewhere, pick the one with the strongest pull.”

As the three slowly walked along the wall, Twilight, who had followed them back, said, “Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander? Could you make me a wand?”

He stared at her, startled. “You want me to make you a wand?”

She smiled nervously, “Yeah, I’d like to experiment with using a wand.”

“Using one of your hairs, of course,” he stated.

“Well, unless there’s a reason I shouldn’t?”

He waved her over to the boxes of wood.

Soon there were four pieces of wood on his worktable.

He took a long look at the first piece. “Ah, Mr. Potter, I knew it would be cocobolo wood for you; sun and moon, capable of handling much power, and very resilient!”

He turned to the next piece of raw wood. “Dogwood for you, Miss Belle; swishy, with an affinity for loyalty and protection.” He nodded his head approvingly. Sweetie Belle blushed under the praise.

“Miss Scootaloo, you have Monterillo; a rare, pliable wood and perfect for those with strength, courage, and determination.” Scootaloo grinned happily.

“And Miss Sparkle, Gaboon Ebony, a truly diverse swishy wood that works well with earth, fire, wind and water — an excellent selection for all magics.” He stared at Twilight for a long moment as Twilight hopped from foot to foot in delight. Harry knew that if she were still a pony she would be doing one of her famous running-in-place dances.

She reached up to her hair, plucked one, and held it out to the wand-maker.

As he took the almost three-foot long hair from her hand it changed from solid black to a purple shimmer as the spell changing her hair colour faded out. He blinked, and then set it reverently beside the piece of wood she had chosen.

“I will start on these this afternoon,” he said softly.

He led them back to the front.

“You may pay me when you pick up your wands. They will be ready in seven days, but not before lunchtime. The cost will be three galleons each, with a one galleon deposit. The extra length of the hairs offsets some of the cost.”

As they were preparing to leave, Mr. Ollivander bowed low to the Equestrian adults and said, “Thank you, for the honour you give me in choosing my humble shop and allowing me to serve you.”

Rarity smiled him, “Thank you for your kind words and excellent service. We will recommend your shop to everypony we know.” She blinked, then said, “I mean everyone we know.”

They began to file outside.

“I need a few words with Mr. Ollivander. School business, you know. I’ll meet you at Truckle’s Trunks, it’s just down the Alley. See it?” Professor McGonagall pointed at the small shop on the other side of the street from them only a short distance away.

Harry and the fillies stopped and watched as Pinkie was about to leave the shop. She paused, then stepped back to the old wand-maker. Harry watched as Pinkie held out her hand, a long pink hair dangling and tightly coiled in a spiral, like a spring. He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “You’ll need this for a wand, you’ll know to whom it belongs.”

Ollivander reached toward it with his thumb and forefinger, but she moved her hand and draped it over his wrist instead. The hair fell and then seemed to wrap around his wrist like a bracelet. She giggled, grabbed Scootaloo’s arm, and pulled the herd-mates out of the shop, hurrying to catch up with the others.

No sooner did the door close than the professor turned to the old wizard.

“What in Merlin’s name was all that about?” she demanded.

“In the almost two thousand and four hundred years that Ollivanders has been making wands,” Ollivander explained tersely, his eyes still looking at his new bracelet, “no god, goddess, or avatar of the same has ever passed through our doors, yet today two goddesses and four avatars walked into my shop. I have no knowledge of anyone ever having an avatar or goddess give them a hair or feather for a wand. Yet today I saw hairs from the Goddesses of the Sun and Moon freely given to Harry Potter for the core of his wand.” He stared at her unblinking. “In addition, the avatars of Air, Earth, and the Muses gave their relatives a feather and hairs, respectively, to use in their wands. A fledgling goddess of Magic gave a hair, and wood from her very home, to a muggle-born.” He continued to stare at Professor McGonagall as her mouth went dry at the implications of what he had just told her. “Plus, the Goddess of Magic wants me to make her a wand!”

He turned from the shocked witch and looked at the cupcake sitting in the middle of his counter, and held up his wrist with its new bracelet. “And the Goddess of Joy has given me two gifts.” He looked back up at her. “Leave. I have much to think about. And do.”

The shop’s magic fairly pushed her to the door. No sooner had she stepped outside than she heard the door close and lock behind her. The curtains on his windows silently slammed shut, and the OPEN sign now read CLOSED.

She had to tell Albus, immediately! She looked around quickly, then quickly cast a silencing spell around herself. Not a moment later a silvery cat was crouched in front of the witch as she bent down to speak to it.

As the cat bounded out of sight, the professor briefly pressed her hand to her forehead. She could feel the onset of a headache. She sighed and dismissed the silencing spell. She looked up the street and started off towards the groups’ next stop.

Truckle’s Trunks, like everything else in the Alley, looked like a small dingy shabby shop from the outside, yet the inside was bigger and brighter than one could expect. There were stacks of trunks everywhere. One wall had a stack from floor to ceiling of what appeared to be the same style trunk: black with wooden rails around the edges at the ends and two around the middle. There was one open on the floor and it looked to be about three by two by one foot in size with a handle at each end. It had a small sign that simply read, “Hogwarts.”

There were other smaller stacks of three or four on the opposite wall with another stack in the middle of the room. What differentiated those trunks, though, were the signs. “Closet,” “Single with Closet,” “Two Rooms,” and “Deluxe Apartment,” were the ones he could immediately pick out before the shop-clerk arrived in answer to the door’s bell.

“Good morning,” he happily proclaimed. “I’m Mister Truckle, the proprietor of this fine establishment.” He grinned happily at seeing so many customers at once.

Twilight spoke up first. “Hi! I’m Twilight Sparkle . . . ,” and she proceeded to introduce everyone. “Professor McGonagall will be joining us in a moment, she said this was the next stop for the day.”

“Excellent!” the shopkeeper said, “How many of you need a Hogwarts’ trunk? Five?” he said, looking at the children as he walked over to the wall with all the trunks.

Twilight nodded. “Yes.”

He pulled out his wand and started to levitate the trunks down.

“Excuse me,” interrupted Rarity, “Could you tell me more about these?” She waved at the other trunk stacks.

Professor McGonagall walked in then, and nodded in greeting to the others.

He finished pulling down the five trunks and walked over to her. “These trunks,” he explained, “all have extensive undetectable expansion charms cast on them. They are for the more seasoned traveller who expects to be places where appropriate accommodations might not be available, or they need more room for their things than would normally fit in a standard trunk.” He smiled at her. “There are even a few full apartments,” he pointed at the stack with the sign that said Deluxe Apartments, “for the intrepid traveller who strays far from the normal paths but wants comfortable accommodations regardless of their surroundings. A literal home-away-from-home.”

Rarity cast a glance at the other mares. “We could have used one of those a couple of times in the last two years, right ladies?” She walked over to the Deluxe Apartment stack with Mr. Truckle following eagerly behind her.

“These all have a sitting-room, bedroom, closet, full bathroom with shower and tub, and kitchen with all the modern Wizarding appliances.” He slipped into sales mode. “I can adjust the room sizes to your needs. The room colours can be altered as you please. Every trunk has impervious charms on it, as well as full security charms. Only people you authorize can enter it, and you can’t be locked inside. Runes provide for air, water, and the disposal of wastes.

“They come with feather-weight charms for easy carrying, as well as shrinking charms for even easier transport.” He looked at Rarity expectantly. “And all at reasonable rates.”

Sweetie Belle looked up at her sister. “You always say to go with quality and get the best, as scrimping now will simply cost you more, later.” She stopped a beat as her sister nodded. “We should each get one as well. They’ll be real convenient back home.” Sweetie looked over at the shopkeeper. “We’ll need extra-large bathtubs, though.” She made a face. “I have no doubt we’ll run into problems cleaning off sap if we don’t.” The other fillies and Harry nodded agreement while the Grangers, the professor, and the shopkeeper looked puzzled.

Sensing an opportunity, and after an odd look at Sweetie Belle, the wizard said to Rarity, “If you intend to buy several, I can install a private Floo-network that would allow you to travel between the trunks as long as there isn’t an anti-Floo spell imposed between them. That way, no matter how far apart you are, you can always meet up with each other at your convenience.”

Rarity looked at Twilight with wide eyes. “You could put one of these at the your parent's house, keep the other in your castle, and be able to see your parents or Princess Celestia whenever you want! No more long train trips.”

“Or visit the Royal Library,” Twilight breathed out. She started hopping in place again.

Applejack laughed, “Or your brother in the Crystal Empire!”

They all turned wide-eyed expressions on Applejack. “Or your cousins in Appleoosa,” replied Rarity.

“So,” Rarity said slowly, “Twilight needs three, Applejack needs two, Fluttershy needs one, I need one, Pinkie Pie needs one . . . ,”

“Three,” called Pinkie, poking her head out of one of the Hogwarts trunks still stacked against the wall, “I want one for Maude and one for my family on our rock farm.”

“Pinkie needs three, and Rainbow Dash needs one, and Princesses needs two — it would be terribly gauche to give one to Princess Celestia and not to Princess Luna as well. And Harry and the fillies need four total.”

Rainbow Dash said, “Why would I need one, I’m the fastest —”

Without looking and keeping her smile, Twilight kicked Dash in the ankle, making Dash yelp.

Rarity spoke up, “Dash, there might be times you want to visit one of us without spending hours racing across the country.”

Rainbow Dash, bent down and rubbed her sore ankle, scowling. She said, “Well, still, it’s gonna be expensive and . . . .”

“Aren’t you forgetting,” interrupted Twilight, “that the Princesses are paying for this?”

“Ah,” said Dash, looking chagrined, “yes.”

“I’m sorry,” interrupted the shopkeeper, “But any trunks purchased for Hogwarts’ students are not allowed to have functioning Floo connections and must include the Hogwarts Lockout.”

They all looked at him, the questions evident in their expressions.

“The Floo restriction is a security issue for Hogwarts, you see,” he said with a nervous look and smile at Professor McGonagall, “and the Hogwarts’ Lockout means only one student at a time can be in the trunk.”

“Why only one student,” asked Sweetie Belle, “What if we want to study together? Or take a bath?” she spared a glance at the professor who was keeping a carefully nondescript expression. “I’m positive that we’ll end up in sap sometime in the next seven years and trying to get it off by yourself is well-neigh impossible.” The Equestrians and Harry all nodded, while the others, again, looked puzzled.

“Oh, well,” Truckle said, looking uncomfortable. “It’s to prevent students from doing things they shouldn’t.”

Again he was on the receiving end of puzzled expressions. Harry thought the professor was trying not to smile at Truckle’s difficulties.

“You know,” he tried again, “for the older students? So they don’t get together for inappropriate activities?”

Mr Granger raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be getting an inkling of what the wizard was trying to impart.

Another round of blank expressions led the shopkeeper to continue, “Um, snogging? Sucking face? Tonsil tennis?” he suggested weakly.

The Grangers understood the snogging reference, with the parents nodding and Hermione saying, “Ewww,” and making a face of disgust.

The Equestrians were still puzzled.

Finally, in a half whisper and a nervous glance at the younger customers, he leaned closer to the adults and half-whispered, “Sex.”

The mares all looked at each other and said, “Ooohh!” Then they looked over at the fillies and Harry with curious expressions.

The fillies looked at each other, then at Harry with calculating expressions. Harry meanwhile, said, “Oookaayy,” with a wondering and puzzled expression.

Public courting between mares and stallions was common in Equestria — with a ratio of three mares to every stallion it was usually the mares chasing the stallions. And being very forward about it. Unlike Earth, the stallions were the shy and retiring ones in relationships, waiting for the mares to make the first moves and run the relationships. And seeing two, three, or even four mares courting a stallion wasn’t unusual. Nothing inappropriate — or at least what ponies considered inappropriate — ever happened in public, of course. But Harry knew of several fillies and colts exploring whether they had found their special somepony yet. He considered himself fortunate that the fillies were keeping themselves to the “trying to carry his books” stage.

Not that he disliked any of them, he liked them a lot, as a matter of fact. He just knew he wasn’t ready for anything more than that. And waking in a pony pile during sleepovers at the clubhouse was something he enjoyed doing — it was comforting to not be isolated and alone all night. Getting his own room in the castle had been a mixed blessing. His own room, but alone all night without the reassuring presence of either Spike or Twilight.

Having to choose one of the three would be impossible. And he was terrified that if he chose one, then the other two would hate him. It was better not to think on it at all.

For some reason, Twilight and the other mares were snickering.

Author's Notes:

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

This chapter will engender much debate, I don't doubt. So, for your consideration:
A. Alicorns are apparently immortal.
B. Celestia and Luna can control the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars in their universe.
C. Twilight is apparently the alicorn in control of magic.
D. Pinkie Pie, while not an alicorn, can do things that none of the alicorns can do, or even understand (breaking the Fourth Wall and causality).

By most definitions used by humans, and with the conditions set in A–D above, those ponies mentioned in A–D would be considered gods.

And, finally, just because someone states something is true (in the story) does not necessarily make it so. Ponies, wizards, witches, and people can be mistaken about what they perceive the truth to be.

28 — Clowning Around

Author's Notes:

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Rarity looked back at Truckle, the shopkeeper. “Thank you for that information.” She looked at the others and said, “We’ll take seventeen of the deluxe trunks with extra-large baths, and five of the Hogwarts’ trunks for our students, if you please.”

Truckle choked a second, coughed, and then said, “Seventeen of the Deluxe trunks and five of the standard Hogwarts’ trunks, did I hear that right?”

She nodded, adding, “I assume there is a bulk discount rate?”

He stared at her calm expression, then cleared his throat. “Would you like to tour a sample deluxe trunk so you can tell me the room sizes you want?” He waved his wand and a quill and book floated over from the counter. A second wave and a trunk behind the counter lifted up and floated over to him. “Just step inside and the elevator will take you straight down,” he continued, opening the trunk and doing just that.

They peered over the edge into the trunk and could see him at least twelve feet below them.

He stepped off the marked rectangle on the floor below, and abruptly the bottom of the trunk was back in place. They exchanged looks and then Twilight stepped over the edge into the trunk. Watching as she was lowered into the trunk was a bit strange.

It took a few minutes for them all to make the trip. Pinkie Pie made faces at them, and pretended to be drowning.

The elevator was tucked into a corner and had a waist-high wall that swung open when they reached the floor. The wizard was already talking to the Equestrians, as the students arrived, about the sitting-room dimensions, which was currently twenty-by-twenty feet.

“As you can see,” the sales-wizard said walking to a door on the wall across the sitting-room, to their left. “This is the door to the bedroom,” he said, leading them inside. “It’s twenty-by-twenty feet.” He pointed to a door on their right in the far corner. “That’s the closet, currently it is eight-by-eight feet.” He pointed to a second door on the same wall but closer to them. “That leads to the bathroom.”

The bathroom was twelve-by-twelve foot space, with a wall mirror above two sinks by the door on the right-side wall. The toilet had its own small six-by-six room at the far end of the room and by the sinks. The tub and shower were in opposite corners of the wall in common with the closet.

“This second door, here,” he pointed to the door between the toilet room and the sinks, “leads to the kitchen.” Which was another room that was twenty-by-twenty feet.

Harry got the impression that the undetectable expansion charm was a flat forty-by-forty feet that the shopkeeper simply sub-divided as needed with walls. Professor McGonagall was looking around intently, studying what she could detect of the spells being used. Was this the first time she had been in one of the Deluxe Apartment trunks?

With some discussion, and the fillies’ quiet insistence that the tub be big enough for them all when they got home, the bathroom and bedroom closet were the only rooms with any changes. The closet was reduced to a depth of six feet and expanded to eight feet wide. Mr. Truckle substituted what he called a ten-person hot tub option — eight-by-nine feet in size and forty-inches deep — for the regular tub and put it in the far right-hand corner. The toilet room and shower, side-by-side and both eight feet deep by seven feet wide, now occupied the formerly empty space behind the closet. Which left the two sinks on the wall shared with the kitchen, and open shelves opposite them on the closet wall for towels and bathroom sundries. The door to the kitchen separated the sinks from the hot tub. In total, the bathroom now occupied the entirety of its twenty-by-twenty-foot space, except for the closet.

Once they were all back in the shop, the wizard told them, “It’ll take me a couple of hours to process all the trunks, especially the three triple-sized trunks. The total will be,” he referred to his receipt book, “two thousand, eight hundred galleons, twelve sickles, and twenty knuts with the bulk discount rate.”

Harry frowned as he calculated. Based on what Professor McGonagall had told them yesterday, the average wizard earned about one hundred galleons a year. That meant each deluxe trunk was well over two year’s salary. Harry would bet the wizard had never sold that many apartment trunks, ever.

Twilight nodded, frowning, as she pulled out her wallet. “I hope the Goblins give us a good price on our gems.”

Rainbow Dash smirked and said, “I’m sure the fillies would be happy to give you a loan.”

“Maybe you should go with Rare and pick up a few of those big gems,” Sweetie Belle said. “The Goblins seemed to like the magic ones better.”

Twilight hummed lightly, obviously considering that plan while giving Rainbow Dash a dirty look.

Immediately after the register dinged to indicate acceptance of the payment, Mr. Granger stepped up. “We’ll take one of the standard Hogwarts trunks.”

“Oh, no, dear,” Rarity said, touching him on the arm. “That’s why we bought five standard trunks. The fifth one is for Hermione.”

“Oh, we couldn’t let you do that,” said Mrs. Granger. “You barely know us. It wouldn’t be right. The gift of the wand materials was too much as it is.”

“Nonsense,” Rarity said, waving her hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t think of not giving you a trunk when we’re buying in bulk. With the discount, the student trunks are free at that price.”

Mr. Granger looked about ready to object again when Rainbow Dash said, “You’re gonna lose that argument. It’s just the way she is. She won’t be happy until you say, ‘yes.’” Harry and the fillies were all nodding in agreement. “And, as she said, with the discount, the student trunks are basically free,” finished Dash. “So, if she’s giving you something that she got for free, how can that be expensive?”

Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged looks, then Mr. Granger turned to Rarity, “Thank you for your generosity. If there’s anything we can do for you, just ask.”

Rarity just smiled.

The wizard said, “Now, then, it will take me a few hours to prepare that many trunks, so if you could come back after three, everything should be ready.”

The professor watched Rarity intently as they left the store for their next stop, Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Fluttershy was mobbed the moment she walked in the door behind Rainbow Dash. The owls were polite, but it was just like her home in Equestria, the birds just had to come over and say hello. Two managed to stand on her head, with one more on each shoulder. When she lifted her arm to shoo away the creatures, three more landed on it. Dash, Rarity, Twilight, Applejack, and the Grangers were just as quickly used as stands so the birds could be close to the new friend. The one that tried to land on Pinkie’s head almost disappeared into her hair before it could take off again. The remainder were quick to notice and refrained from repeating the first one’s mistake.

Instead they used the girls and Harry as portable stands.

“Here, now! Stop that!” said a Wizard behind the shop counter, waving his hands as he marched out onto the sales-floor. “Back to your perches! You know you aren’t supposed to pester customers!”

Fluttershy was smiling broadly, “Oh, it’s alright,” she said, looking at the inquisitive birds. “They’re just saying hello.” She stroked one’s head with a finger, “Aren’t you, beautiful?” She stroked the sides of the ones resting on her arm. “But, as the pony . . . man said, back to your perches!” She lifted her arm slightly. With a soft, disappointed hoot they took off.

She quickly went to the others adorning her friends, offering a quick stroke of their feathers before urging them to leave.

“I’m soo sorry,” said the man, “I’m Eeylops, the owner, and I’ve never seen my owls do anything like this before!” He glared at the owls still decorating his new customers.

Professor McGonagall was careful to note everything that happened.

“Don’t worry about it,” Twilight said dismissively. “Things like that happen all the time to Fluttershy.”

Abruptly aware of the man’s attention, Fluttershy ducked behind Dash even as she continued to pet and shoo the owls back to their perches.

Turning his attention back to Twilight, he said, “All my owls are post trained and spelled. They’ll never get lost and can find anyone not behind an owl-ward. They’re fast and convenient, house-trained, and always come when called. Plus, they know to wait for dark before delivering to muggle neighbourhoods so they don’t attract attention.

“And as most of my customers say, ‘They’re dead useful, they are!’”

Harry and the fillies nodded. They remembered Professor McGonagall taking about the owls. “Most wizards and witches use owls for communication,” she had explained the night she had first met them at Magnolia Road. “They’re fast and reliable. And with shrinking charms they can carry quite large items. All are intelligent enough to understand if you live in a Muggle area, and, as a result, will only pickup or deliver mail when they won’t be easily observed, typically just before sunrise or after sunset under the cover of darkness. The muggles would think it quite strange if you had owls showing up at home at all hours of the day, after all.”

“I have the finest owl feed and treats on the market and offer a wide range of perches, as you can see.” The shopkeeper waved his arm across the shop, where hundreds of perches were on display or in boxes. The displays all had one or two owls on them.

“If you have any questions,” he concluded, “please feel free to ask. Either I or my assistants will be happy to help you.”

Pinkie was already at the back of the shop and appeared to be sharing slices of apples with the owls. The shopkeeper gave her a puzzled look.

“I have a question, sir,” Harry said. “Why don’t you just spell the owls to look like pigeons or swallows to non-magicals? Wouldn’t that solve the problem of them being seen as unusual during the day? And allow for more efficient delivery of mail?”

The man stared at him for several moments, blinking. “Spell the owls to look like swallows?” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He frowned and put his hand on his chin. “No, a spell would wear off after a time.” His eyes opened a bit wider. “But if I used ambient-powered runes on a metal leg band . . . .” He shook his head and looked back at Harry. “Why that’s a wonderful idea, my lad! I think I’ll look into it!” He turned and hurried off to his counter, mumbling, “Now, who do I know who’s good at rune work . . . and cheap.”

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t understand how such a simple idea had eluded wizards for so long. Didn’t they have any common sense? And they thought they were superior to him.

Harry didn’t have to look very far for an owl. Instead, he was captivated by the beautiful white owl that had taken residence on his shoulder as soon as he looked at it. “Hello, girl,” he said, only to receive a sharp nip on his ear and disgusted “hoot!”

“Ow!” He rubbed his ear giving the owl a cautious look. “So you’re a boy?”

The owl said, “Hoot!” followed by a satisfied look.

“And you want to be my owl?”

“Hoot!”

Harry had to smile. For the first time, ever, someone wanted to be his friend without ever having met him, or even heard of him, before now. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” he said, rubbing his finger down the bird’s soft breast feathers.

The owl rubbed his head against Harry’s.

Apple Bloom said, “Well, it looks like you’ve picked out an owl.” She looked at the other three girls. “I think it’s our turn now.” They all nodded and split up.

Scootaloo returned with an owl that looked like it had horns, but Harry knew from Miss Cheerilee’s lessons that it was a Great Horned Owl. It had a dark grey and dark brown colouring with areas of white scattered all over.

Sweetie Belle had an owl that was brown with white spots and black eyes, and its hoots were melancholy short things that sounded almost like a laugh, as if it came from a dog. “It’s a Laughing Owl, according to the tag on its perch,” she said.

Apple Bloom’s owl was an overall ochre-reddish colour, with fine dark spots growing larger towards the tail and on the wings. Its face disc was white, with a brownish tinge between the lower edge of the eyes and the base of the light grey bill, with the whole surrounded by brown. “Accordin’ to mah owl’s perch, he’s a Madagascar Red Owl. Right, Maddy?” The owl responded with a short hissing noise that seemed to be approving.

Before they left the shop’s counter, however, Harry motioned the girls together with their owls. He held his arm out, with his as-yet unnamed owl on it and said, “Okay, you guys can find your way to Sweet Apple Acres, right?” He looked at each of the other owls. They each nodded, with his Snowy White giving him a look of “Well, of course I can, you fool.”

He turned to the clerk. “Could you shrink each of our owl’s things and show us how to attach them properly, and we’ll let them meet us at Apple Bloom’s home.”

“Nothing easier,” said the clerk. “Beats carrying all that stuff through the Alley!”

A short lesson later and the owls were winging their way out of the shop.

As soon as they were out of sight, Harry said, “Maybe we should have given them our other packages as well. . . .” The fillies all shook their heads. “Neigh,” said Sweetie Belle, “We need a wand to undo the shrink charms and nopony at Sweet Apple Acres has one.”

“Ah. You’re right.”

Professor McGonagall addressed them all as they exited the shop, “Our next stop is the Apothecary for potion supplies. It’s down this way.” She pointed and started off in that direction.

As they were passing a shop, Twilight stopped and grabbed Harry by the arm. “One moment, Professor McGonagall!” The witch stopped, as did everyone else. “Harry needs new glasses and here’s an optometrist.” She pointed at a small sign above a door sandwiched between two shops. “We’ll meet at the Apothecary.” She turned and handed her wallet to Applejack. “AJ, will you take care of this?” The transformed pony took the wallet, “Shore thang,” she replied.

Twilight guided Harry to the door and up the carpeted stairs. There was no door at the top, the stairs emptied into a reception room with two walls filled with eyeglass frames. There were two doors in the third wall, one open and revealing a simple room with a chair and desk. The other was likely a restroom.

By the windows that looked out onto the Alley was a desk. A wizard, his feet on the desk and a magazine in his hands sat in a padded reclining chair behind the desk. A notepad and quill rested on the desktop. He must have been concentrating as he only noticed them as they stepped into his office. He sat up, hurriedly shoving the magazine — its cover featured a scantily clad witch, Harry saw — into a desk drawer, and then stood. “Good morning! How can I help you this morning?”

He was of average height, with black hair and brown eyes. He wore a smock over his robes, which were regular business robes. They exchanged introductions.

Twilight smiled at him. “Harry, here,” she put her hand on his shoulder, “needs new glasses. His are very old and broken, as you can see.

The wizard focused on Harry. “Ah, Yes. Well come into the exam room.” He pointed at the open door.

As Harry walked in, the wizard said, “Just sit in the chair. May I see your glasses?”

Harry handed them over.

“Humph. Yes. Definitely need replacing.” He handed them back. “Now, please sit in the chair and look at that chart on the wall. . . .”

The next few minutes passed quickly as the wizard cast a spell, read the results, made some notes on a paper, and started handing Harry a series of eyeglasses and asking questions. Finally, he said, “That’s it then. Let’s go back to the office.”

“As I’m sure you know, Miss Sparkle, Harry here is very near-sighted with some astigmatism. It appears to have been exacerbated by a blow to his head several years back. I’m surprised the healers at St Mungo’s Hospital missed that. They should have cleared this right up.” He eyed Twilight uncertainly. “You did take him there, didn’t you? The blow would have knocked him out completely.”

Twilight smiled sadly. “He wasn’t in my care at the time, or I certainly would have had him properly cared for.”

He nodded, relieved. “He still might have had a touch of near-sightedness, but nothing as severe as it is.” He turned to Harry.

“Now, then, Harry, take a look at these frames and pick whichever one you want to wear.” He pointed to the two walls. “This wall has frames that the witches seem to like.” He indicated the nearer wall

Harry took his time and after a few minutes, and a couple of trips to the mirror, he settled on a black full-frame round pair.

“An excellent choice, Harry.” The wizard took the frames and fitted them on Harry’s face. He pulled out his wand and touched the frames. Harry could feel them change. “There now, they fit perfectly. Now, all my frames come with Forever Prescription, a rune charm that will make the prescription match your eyes no matter how much they change as you grow up. What other charms would you like added?”

Harry exchanged glances with Twilight. “Uh, well, what’s available?”

“Oh, well, for example, if you’re into Quidditch, there’s an impervious runes charm to protect your eyeglasses from breakage. And one to keep your glasses dry, clear, and warm no matter the weather. There’s another to let you see in the dark. And a matching one that makes them darken in bright sunlight so you’ll never need sunglasses.

“One rune charm that almost all wizards and witches choose is a comfort charm so that they are comfortable no matter what position you are in, even asleep. And there are many others that wizards find useful.” He smiled at them.

Harry looked back at Twilight as she looked at him. They both shrugged.

“Everything, I guess,” Harry said.

“Everything?” said the optometrist, clearly taken aback. “That’s quite expensive, almost two hundred galleons. Are you sure?” He looked questioningly at Twilight.

“Sure, why not?” she said.

The wizard pursed his lips. “It’ll take me a while to put the runes on the frames, you won’t be able to take them with you right now,” he said slowly.

They both nodded. “That’s okay,” Twilight said, “He’s lived with these glasses for years, a few more days won’t hurt.”

He sat down behind his desk, pulled out his notes, and started making additions. He opened a drawer, took out a small pamphlet and a receipt book, and started making entries in the receipt book while referring to the pamphlet. After a few minutes he looked up. “All twenty rune charms brings the total to one hundred and ninety-six galleons, ten sickles and five knuts.” He sighed. “I can have these owled to your home tomorrow.” He handed Harry the pamphlet he had been copying from. “Here’s the complete list of what the runes do.”

Twilight looked at Harry, “Use your wallet, I’ll pay you back when we get home.” Harry stuffed the pamphlet in his rucksack. Two minutes later, they were downstairs and hurrying to catch up with their friends.

Through the crowded street as they approached Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, they saw Professor McGonagall bending over a large silver bird. The crowd obscured her for a moment, then she was standing upright and there were no signs of a bird of any kind. Harry hadn’t seen a bird flying off. He wondered if he had imagined seeing the bird.

“Hi,” called the three girls as they came out the door. “Thought ya were gettin’ new glasses?” Apple Bloom said.

Harry grinned, “They’ll be ready tomorrow, the doctor said he’d owl them to me.” And he excitedly explained how his new eyeglasses would be unbreakable, always comfortable, never fall off and lots of other things, too. They didn’t understand his enthusiasm, but that was okay. If it made Harry happy, then they were happy for him.

“Rarity insisted we get the deluxe potions kits and crystal vials,” said Sweetie Belle. “That way we won’t have to buy better equipment later because the standard stuff wears out or breaks.” Harry nodded. He had expected that after the trunk shop.

The cauldron shop was a quick visit and they left with the pewter cauldron required by the letters — except Rarity insisted they get the extra-heavy-duty version. She reasoned that the regular ones were designed to barely meet the minimum requirements and thus would need replacing at some point in their education.

The telescope shop left Harry puzzled. While the telescopes here were beautifully-worked pieces of art, he knew that the muggles had ones that were far better than the ones on display here.

“Twilight?” he said, staring at a brass telescope that must have weighed twenty pounds and was longer than he was tall.

“Yes?”

“I think we should wait on getting telescopes. I think we can find a better ones in London.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Well, I remember that Dudley used to have a telescope, not a long one that you looked through one end and out the other like these, but what was called a reflecting telescope. It was half the length but double the width of these things.” He gestured at the rack of telescopes. “It had double or triple the resolution of these, and a motor that kept it on target.

“And that was over two years ago.”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, that might be better.” Then she nodded again, firmly. “Yes, let’s do that. We can always come back here if we can’t find what we want.”

With that decision, the group left the store with only Hermione getting a telescope, somewhat bewildering Professor McGonagall. Once outside, the professor said, “Well, that seems to be everything. And considering the time, why don’t we adjourn to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch?”

As they filed into the pub from the Alley, Professor McGonagall said, “It’s fortunate that we finished before the lunchtime crowd arrived. I’ll see where Tom wants us.” She headed over to the barkeep as the rest of the group bunched up in the dining room, waiting. Moments later, Tom came out from behind the bar and led them over to large table.

“Not quite big enough, eh?” he said looking at their group and the table. He pulled out his wand and concentrated, pointing it at the table. He wiggled the wand and said something, and the table grew longer until it was more than big enough to seat them all. Then he tapped his wand on one of the chairs and made several duplicates, enough to fit the newly-enlarged table.

“There now,” he said wiping his forehead with one hand as he put away his wand. “That should last about an hour or two for yeh.”

“Nicely done!” Professor McGonagall said approvingly. “You’ve improved quite a bit since I first started coming here!”

Tom blushed. “I’ve had quite a bit o’ practice on those two,” he mumbled bashfully.

The Equestrians were, frankly, staring at the man, or at least at his bald head. They had never before seen anyone who was bald. Well, they had seen him earlier that morning, but it had been more than a little chaotic so they hadn’t had the time to really look at him.

Pinkie Pie especially seemed captivated. She hopped over to him. “It’s so shiny!” she said. “Were you born this way or did it all fall out later? Do you wish you had hair? Would you like hair? I wonder what I would look like bald? I don’t think I would like to be bald, I’d have to keep my party cannon in my tail. Is . . . .” Whatever else she might have said was lost, fortunately, as Twilight slapped her hand over Pinkie’s mouth.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said to the bartender, “Sometimes she doesn’t know when to stop. She has no control over her mouth. Please forgive her.”

Having hands now, Pinkie reached up and pulled down Twilight’s hand with one. “Ooops. Sorry,” she said to Tom. “Here,” she said, plopping a bright orange wig down on his head. “No, that’s not right!” She shoved a round red ball over his nose. “Better, but not quite.” She held up a giant round pad as big as her head out and hit the poor wizard upside the head with it. A puff of white surrounded him for a moment, then disappeared leaving him a white face with exaggerated black eyebrows and red mouth.

“Perfect,” she declared, stepping back. Twilight and the rest of the Equestrians watched with expressions ranging from horror (Twilight) to amusement (Rainbow Dash) to puzzled (practically everypony else in the pub).

There was a stunned silence for a moment, then the rest of the pub burst out laughing.

“Great new look, there, Tom!”

“That’s hilarious!”

“Love your hair!”

“Pinkie!” Twilight said severely, “Enough of that.”

“Have a cupcake, too,” Pinkie concluded shoving one into his hand.

29 — The Naked Lunch

Twilight rolled her eyes at Pinkie's antics and turned her around to face the table. She then pushed her down into a chair, and sat beside her. Harry sat beside Twilight, hoping to head off any misunderstanding for the vegetarian Equestrians. He couldn’t even imagine how they would react to juicy luncheon steak, or even a simple bangers and mash. One visit to a meat counter, and experimenting with bacon at breakfast, wasn’t preparation enough.

After everyone had seated themselves, Harry noticed there were two unoccupied seats. Had the barkeep miscounted them?

Tom was staring, stunned, at the pink-haired woman. He remembered the incredible chaos that this one person had inflicted upon his staid pub just this morning, and now the entire pub was in an uproar again. A happy uproar — he could see one wizard laughing so hard he had tears going down his face and he would swear that one witch was about wet her pants she was laughing so hard — but nothing like his normal, quiet pub. A pub that hadn’t had this many customers in many a year. He turned and went back to the bar. He stopped dead on seeing his reflection in the bar’s mirror. He looked at the reflection of the rest of his pub and the laughing. He shrugged and went behind the bar. He said something to the witch standing in the door to the kitchen, who was trying to stifle her own giggles.

She hurried over to them as the Equestrians settled in around the table. Professor McGonagall was staring at Pinkie Pie, who was grinning back at her, very pleased with herself.

“Would you like a cupcake?” she said holding one out to the professor. The witch slowly shook her head, “No, thanks, I don’t want to spoil my appetite.”

“Okey doki loki!” Pinkie said, downing the entire cupcake in one impossibly big bite. “Beff iea arri err ha’ . . . .” she said.

“Pinkie! How many times do I have to tell you no talking while chewing!” Twilight said sharply.

Pinkie looked chagrined, but made a show of swallowing. “I said,” she giggled, “best idea Harry ever had, making the cupcake cups edible!”

The rest rolled their eyes.

“What’ll you have?” the serving witch asked.

Harry, hoping to head off a disaster, loudly said, “What meatless salads do you have?” The Equestrians looked at him, puzzled — weren’t all salads meatless by definition? Then they looked slightly nauseated at the thought that somepony would put meat from an animal in a lovely salad. They gave an uncertain look around the pub.

“We have an English Garden salad: Onions, cucumber, goat cheese, tomatoes, potatoes, and red beans, with a mayonnaise, mustard and honey dressing. Then we have a Ploughman’s salad: Cubed ciabatta bread, cherry tomatoes, gem lettuces, sliced red onions, cored and sliced apple, six pickled onions, and grated Cheddar with an olive oil, cider vinegar, and brown sugar dressing. And we have a pea and bean salad. Peas, corn, green beans, pimentos, celery, bell pepper and onion with a marinated sugar, black pepper, salt, oil, and vinegar dressing.”

“Oh,” said Applejack, “I’ll have the Ploughman’s!”

“Me, too,” said Apple Bloom.

The other’s quickly made their selections.

Professor McGonagall watched and noted that none of the Equestrians seemed interested in the rest of the pub’s menu.

Harry gave a sidelong glance at Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash. “Dash, Scoots? I’d suggest the fish and chips.” They shrugged. Harry looked up at the witch taking their orders. “Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo, and I will have the fish and chips, please.” He pointed out the other two to the waitress.

McGonagall said, “Oh, if you don’t mind, I’ll change my salad to a fish and chips.”

“And to drink?” queried the server.

“Do ya’ll got Apple Cider?” asked Applejack

“Yes, we do.

Twilight looked around at the others who nodded. “We’ll all have that,” she said.

“Even the children?”

Twilight cocked her head sideways. “Is there a reason why they shouldn’t?”

“Well, it is alcohol.”

Twilight looked at the others. They all shrugged.

“Um, Twilight?” Harry said. She looked at him. “I think we should have apple juice instead.”

“Okay, if you think so.” Twilight nodded to the witch, who noted it down and headed back to the kitchen.

Twilight looked at Harry, “Why is Apple Cider a problem?”

Harry thought a moment and glanced at the Professor listening intently. He leaned close and whispered, “Well, you know how too much salt is bad for ponies back home?”

Twilight nodded.

“For people, alcohol is like salt is to ponies. And salt to people is nothing except it makes things taste better. So, the apple cider here is like the ‘special stock’ apple-salt cider Applejack has hidden away.”

Her eyes went wide at that.

Twilight frowned deeply, clearly thinking about the differences in metabolism it would take to make alcohol affect humans the way salt affected ponies. Harry knew she would probably be lost in thought until their lunch arrived. Maybe it had something to do with the way magic flowed through the mana-pathways in their bodies.

Abruptly, there was a flare of green light from the big fireplace at the other end of the room. To the Equestrians’ amazement, a wizard stepped out of the flames. He was tall, thin, and very old, with a silvery beard that reached all the way to his waist. He wore long robes and a purple cloak that swept the ground.

He started for the bar as he looked casually around the room. He saw their table and smiled. He reached up and touched his glasses, then winced and blinked rapidly. He adjusted his glasses and, still smiling, changed direction to head their way. As he got closer, Harry could see he had bright light-blue eyes sparkling behind half-moon spectacles. His nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. Why he hadn't fixed it properly was beyond Harry. He had an extraordinarily long beard that reached to his waist. A braided string was halfway down it, making it look like a front-facing pony-tail. Harry thought it looked silly. Pony-tails, like Applejack favoured, belonged in the back, not the front.

“Professor McGonagall,” he called, “What a pleasure to see you. I thought you might still be showing the new students around.”

“Good morning, Headmaster,” she replied, standing to greet him, “we just finished. Their wand selection took much less time than I thought it would.” She smiled uncertainly, glancing at the herd. “They were quite . . . efficient.” She cleared her throat. “This is the Headmaster at Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore.”

Harry stared at the wizard intently. This was the man responsible for those disgraceful books. Harry didn’t like any adults, except ponies, and this one now had two strikes against him. Just looking at him made Harry angry. He glanced at Applejack. She was frowning slightly at the old wizard. Good, Harry thought. It’s not just me. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.

“Are these new students?” the old wizard asked looking at Harry and the girls.

“Yes, they are, Albus.” She pointed at Harry, “This is Mr. Harry Potter.” She moved on to the girls, pointing at each in turn around the table. “Miss Scoot Aloo, Miss Sweetie Belle, Miss Apple Bloom, and Miss Hermione Granger.” Each nodded and said a soft, “Hello.”

The wizard nodded to each, murmuring their names in turn. Harry noticed that in his case the old wizard had looked at his forehead, at his faded scar, instead of actually at him. Something about the way he studied it made Harry uneasy. As if he expected it to be or mean more than simple scar.

Then she moved on to the relatives. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Mr. Granger stood and reached across the table to shake the wizard’s hand while Mrs. Granger nodded. “And this is Miss Twilight Sparkle, Miss Pinkie Pie, Miss Rarity — who is Miss Belle’s sister, right?” She waited for Rarity to nod. “Miss Fluttershy . . . ,” who peered at the Headmaster through her fringe and scooted closer to Rainbow Dash, “Miss Apple Jack, who is Miss Bloom’s sister.” Applejack smiled proudly at her sister. “And Miss Rainbow Dash.”

Dumbledore greeted them, his gaze lingering on both Twilight and Pinkie Pie.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your journey through Diagon Alley,” he said sincerely, glancing around the table and finally focusing on the children. “I imagine you five are quite thrilled at getting your wands.” They nodded enthusiastically.

“What wand did you get, Harry?” He looked at the boy, his gaze again stopping on the partially hidden scar.

“Oh, I don’t have it yet. Mr. Ollivander is putting it together for me. For all of us, actually.”

“Really?” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “That is most unusual. Normally he has a wand right in his shop that is a perfect match. Did he not have the right cores or wood for your wands?”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t it at all. The Princesses . . . I mean Celestia and Luna gave me their . . . the hairs from alicorns that they thought I could use in my wand. Scootaloo had a feather from a Pegasus, Sweetie had a unicorn hair, and Bloom had a piece of wood from the apple tree her great-great-great-grandfather planted hundreds of years ago and a hair from an earth-pony. And Twilight gave Hermione a hair from another alicorn and a piece of wood from her library tree. Mr. Ollivander said they were great fits!” Harry almost missed the way Dumbledore’s eyebrow twitched slightly at hearing the words earth-pony and alicorns.

“Did he, now,” the wizard said in a kindly tone, contemplating what Harry had said and leaning back in his chair to think.

The fireplace flared green again and this time two people came out, a wizard and a witch, one after the other. They brushed themselves off and went towards the exit to the Alley. It was the start of a stream of wizards and witches coming through the fireplace at short, regular intervals. Many of them were escorting children either the same age as himself and the girls, or older.

Some headed for open tables in the pub, or joined friends, to have lunch before heading into the Alley, Harry presumed. All stopped to take a long look at the big banner over the bar and the strangely made-up barkeep, Tom. There were more than a few smiles and snickers in reaction to the sight. The bartender just smiled and waved at them.

Harry sighed as the others nodded. “But we won’t get them for seven days.”

“Seven days?” That specific length of time was important, if Harry read the old wizard’s expression right.

“Yeah.” The kids all looked a bit down knowing they would have to wait a week.

“Why don’t you join us, Albus?”

Dumbledore looked over at the strange sight that was Tom the bartender. “Yes, I think I shall.” He pulled out his wand and a gentle wave transformed the normal dining chair into a plush dining armchair. He settled into it with some satisfaction.

Their waitress witch showed up at that point with a floating tower of carefully stacked dishes, which she quickly glided into place in front of each of her customers. Harry was so glad he showed the Equestrians how people used knives, forks, and spoons. The alicorn and unicorns had caught on quickly, although he thought that they were cheating by using their magic to manipulate the utensils and simply pretending they were using their hands.

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had always used their wing feathers as fingers, so that wasn’t too much of a transition to using real fingers. Of course, they had it easier because fish and chips were finger foods, and nothing that required utensils. The others were not so fortunate. Harry kept his head down and concentrated on his fish and chips and hoped it wasn’t too much of a spectacle. Scootaloo and Dash watched what he did and followed his lead.

Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, and the Grangers were very puzzled as they watched, surreptitiously, as the Equestrians fumbled their utensils as they tried to eat their lunches. It was as if they had never used them before. Or only rarely.

Fortunately, or at least Harry thought it was fortunate, the fireplace flared green again, a wizard stepped out, looked around, spotted their table, and headed over towards them. This wizard stood out from the rest of the patrons at the pub in that he was tall and thin with bright red hair. He wore glasses and had blue eyes.

Harry realized the new wizard had spotted the Headmaster and was headed for him with a big relaxed smile.

As he drew near, Dumbledore looked over at him and smiled, “Arthur! Come sit with us.” Professor McGonagall looked up, distracted from her surreptitious study of the mysterious foreigners. The other wizard smiled in return and said, “Of course, Headmaster.”

The old wizard turned to the rest of table. “I was originally going to have lunch with Arthur. I hope you don’t mind if he sits with us. He works at the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry smirked as he saw Applejack give the Headmaster a distrustful look.

They all said they didn’t mind and the Headmaster introduced them to Arthur Weasley. After telling Arthur their names, he added, “Arthur has three boys at Hogwarts, with another starting this year. A daughter, Ginny, will be starting next year.”

“The Grangers,” he said, speaking to Arthur, “are escorting their muggle-born daughter through the Alley today.” Mr. Granger having already shaken hands with the newly arrived wizard, nodded, as did Mrs Granger. Hermione watched quietly.

Arthur sat down in the chair the old wizard had just conjured. Harry noticed that the table was now full instead of having any empty places. He wondered about that. How had the bartender known two more wizards would join them? Had it all been arranged beforehand? Being with the Cutie Mark Crusaders had taught him to distrust coincidences — they almost always resulted in the Crusaders being covered in tree-sap. He took an intent look around the pub for hidden trees or buckets of sap.

“The rest of our guests,” the Headmaster continued, “are foreign witches, I believe.” His eyes twinkling, he looked at Harry, “Except for Harry, here, of course.”

Arthur looked at the older wizard, eyebrow raised.

Twilight froze and stared at the old wizard. “Er, what?” she said cautiously.

He smiled gently, “That you can use magic is self-evident.” He nodded at the fork that was hovering over her plate.

She must have let go of the fork at some point without noticing. Not that that mattered, as she expected that Professor McGonagall had informed him of their magical abilities. It was the foreign part that threw her.

Twilight blushed and grabbed the fork. Harry buried his face in his hands. Scootaloo said, “Oops,” and exchanged smirks with the other fillies. Ha! It wasn’t their fault the truth was leaking out.

“You can do magic and if you had been born in England,” the wily old wizard continued, “you would have received a letter from Hogwarts when you were eleven. You didn’t, thus you aren’t from England."

Harry looked between his fingers, frowning. Professor McGonagall had to have told him they knew magic. So why the act? Or was that for anyone who might be listening?

“Am I correct?” He smiled at her, calmly, waiting.

She took a breath and thought a moment. “Princess Celestia is going to be so mad at me,” she murmured just loud enough for Harry to hear. She cleared her throat and said, softly, “Yes, we are new to this country, to this world, even.” She glanced around the pub, which was noisily ignoring them. “Does that change anything?” she asked carefully.

He smiled broadly, “No, of course not. The children have their Hogwarts’ letters, so they are admitted to Hogwarts. That you and your friends are strangers to England, and our world, is of no consequence.” He stroked his beard like an elderly grandfather would. “I am merely curious where you come from.”

“We had hoped we could get the fillies and Harry to Hogwarts without incident and then quietly return home.” She picked at her salad, taking a bite.

“Might I ask where your home is?”

Arthur and Professor McGonagall were listening closely, Harry noticed.

Twilight took a deep breath and looked at each of her friends. Pinkie was busily building a pyramid of muffins. Fluttershy had hidden herself behind Rainbow Dash, somehow, without moving from her chair. Dash had finished her fish and chips and was looking for their witch waitress. Rarity, like Harry, had buried her face in her hands, but was peeking between her fingers. Applejack shrugged at Twilight’s look. Twilight nodded to herself. “We’re from Ponyville.”

Harry's hands over his face masked his surprise at her answer.

That had been a long and involved discussion the previous night, she later told Harry. Princesses Celestia and Luna wanted normal relations with the humans. That is, trade and the exchange of ideas and technology. The wizards, on the other hand, wanted to keep their society a secret from the other humans. This led to a problem, a conflict of interest. The Equestrians didn't understand completely why the wizards and witches wanted to live that way, but they were not about to reveal the wizards and witches just so they could trade with the other humans.

In order to protect the wizard’s secrets, they would have to conceal certain facts.

He nodded agreeably. “Does everyone in . . . Ponyville use magic?” he asked, smiling. He knew they were concealing where they came from. It could only be because the name would draw undue attention. And there were few places with that sort of reputation. And Professor McGonagall's patronus message from Ollivander's reduced the number of possibilities even further.

Based on the Headmaster’s failing to recognize the name, Harry wondered if either Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster had ever seen the address on his Hogwarts’ letter, or were they were addressed and sent by magic? He hoped it was the latter.

Again, she glanced at her friends. She took another bite of her salad as a delaying tactic.

The witch waitress had seen Arthur arrive, and was now standing beside his chair. Dash leaned across the table and said, “I’ll have another of those fish and chips!” Arthur quickly placed his order for the same.

As soon as she left, Twilight answered Dumbledore’s question, “Yes.”

“And what of the muggles?”

Twilight looked at him blankly. “Muggles? Those are people without magic, right?” She glanced at Professor McGonagall. “There aren’t any muggles in Ponyville.”

The two wizards and the witch stared at her in surprise.

She tilted her head. “Or did I misunderstand your question?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. If anything, I probably worded the question incorrectly,” he said deprecatingly. He paused. “It’s just that I am unaware of any country that doesn’t also have muggles living there.”

Twilight smiled. “I think I understand your confusion. Every pony . . . person in our . . . homeland . . . uses magic.”

He frowned slightly. “Does it not happen that sometimes a child is born without that ability? Or so little that they cannot properly use it?”

Twilight leaned back in shock. “A fo . . . a child with little or no magic?” She looked uncertainly at the other mares. “I don’t think that’s possible. Everything in our homeland has magic. I know I would have read of such a thing in the Royal Library when I studied medicinal spells, if it had happened.” She frowned, thinking. “There is an extremely rare medical condition that afflicts some in the unicorn tribe,” she mused quietly, “where the mana pathways are underdeveloped or weak. But with little magic itself?” She hummed a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

The wizards and witch exchanged looks. “Never?” said Dumbledore.

“Well, maybe not never — I suppose it could happen.” She frowned in thought. “Discord might know of such a thing happening when he ruled.” She shuddered. “But that was over fifteen hundred years ago.” She smiled. “So, none since then for sure, and probably for the thousand years before he overthrew the Princesses. Any parent with such a child would have rushed to Princess Celestia immediately. I’ll ask the Princesses and Discord when we go back, just to be sure.”

“Amazing,” Dumbledore said softly. Arthur and the professor exchanged thoughtful looks. Harry saw they had noticed how she had said Discord used to rule long ago and yet was still alive.

The witch returned with the orders for Arthur and Dash, and left.

“Professor McGonagall noticed last night that you were surprised we used wands.”

Twilight shrugged. “Magic is innate. Some are better at it than others. Some have bigger pools than others. But every . . . one has some. All you need is to memorize the spell matrix. Then it’s a simple matter of how much power you can supply. If you have enough, the spell works. If not, it doesn’t.”

That she didn’t add that they would never have thought of wands to facilitate using magic because unicorn horns were natural foci and conductors was a given to Harry. And that pegasi, who worked magic through their wings, and earth-ponies, who worked magic through their hooves, wouldn’t have ever thought of using something else to focus their magic. It just hadn’t occurred to the ponies.

“Is all your magic non-verbal, then?”

“Actually, no,” Twilight said. “We do use singing for some spontaneous Harmony magic, usually triggered by strong emotions or desires. And sometimes we have used ancient runes to control magic.” The alicorn’s speech was reaching that familiar lecture mode the Equestrians knew so well. “In point of fact, Ponhenge has some very interesting runes . . . .” Harry elbowed her. “Ow!” She looked at him angrily.

“Focus, Twilight,” Applejack said dryly, “Focus!”

Twilight blushed and muttered, “Sorry.”

The old wizard looked disappointed.

“Might I ask how you and Harry met?” The old wizard’s eyes twinkled as he waited for an answer.

Twilight looked at Harry. He frowned, but then slowly nodded. She turned back to the Headmaster. “In truth, Harry found us. His . . . relatives . . . are not very nice.”

Applejack snorted. “Ought to throw the lot of them in the dungeons and throw away the key, I say.” Harry noticed that the old wizard saw Rainbow and Rarity nod solemnly. He sighed and hoped the wizards hadn’t noticed that AJ had said dungeons and not jail or prison.

Pinkie Pie had distributed and eaten the muffins in her pyramid and was now passing out muffins to the other customers in the pub, to every non-Equestrian’s amazement. She darted over to Harry and gave him a hug. “He’s my favourite colt! Well, except for Pound Cake, that is.”

Harry threw a hand over his eyes. “Oh, the horrors! Second place, again!” Pinkie giggled in response. Which wasn’t all that difficult an accomplishment, anyway.

The old wizard chuckled at the byplay, but kept his eyes on Twilight.

She glanced worriedly at Harry, then looked back at the Headmaster. “I think the rest is for him to tell. We have helped him as much as we could, and he’s made terrific progress. Suffice to say, when he received his letter we decided to give him the support his relatives had denied.” She glanced at Professor McGonagall. “He decided that he would only go to Hogwarts if his filly friends could go.” She looked back at Dumbledore, “Fortunately, you sent letters to the fillies as well, making that a moot point.”

The Headmaster exchanged looks with the professor. “I am pleased to hear that Harry has decided to join us, with his friends.” He sat a moment, his eyes twinkling madly. He looked over at his wizard friend.

Mr. Weasley spoke up, “Well, because you are new to the wizarding world, perhaps you would be interested in seeing a wizarding home? I would be delighted to show you The Burrow, and introduce you to my wife and children. It would also give the children,” he nodded at Harry and the girls, “a chance to meet up with some of their classmates. It wouldn’t hurt to start Hogwarts knowing some of the things that wizarding children know just because they grew up as wizards and witches.” He paused and looked at the Grangers. “Your daughter won’t be at a disadvantage regarding magic, as most wizarding families don’t let their children practice magic until they get their wands after they get their Hogwarts letter.”

Harry could see the Grangers relax a little bit as a tension they hadn’t acknowledged was relieved. He didn’t miss Sweetie’s smirk as she looked at him. Who needed a wand to practice magic when you had a horn?

Mrs. Granger looked at her husband. “It would be nice to see just what it is like to live in a world of magic.” Mr. Granger nodded. “Yes, what Professor McGonagall showed us on Sunday was interesting, but not very practical.” Hermione was nodding so fast Harry was worried her head would fall off.

“Then,” the Headmaster said, “If we have finished with our repast, perhaps we should adjourn to The Burrow?” Harry noticed that the Headmaster, unlike Mr. Weasley, hadn’t bothered to order or eat anything. So much for a luncheon with a friend!

The others, however, had devoured their lunches with alacrity.

A quick interchange of looks and murmurs, and some finger licking, and they were soon gathered in front of the fireplace as Twilight settled their bill with the bartender. The fireplace was tall enough for someone to stand with only a minor stoop and wide enough for two people to stand beside each other. The fire was quite low, barely any flames showing.

“This is the Floo-network,” Arthur explained. “It connects most wizarding homes and business locations. It’s operated and maintained by the Ministry and is perfectly safe.”

Twilight finished paying the bill and re-joined them. Arthur smiled at her and continued, “You take a generous pinch of Floo-powder from this pot here,” he pointed to a pot in a small alcove in the side of the fireplace brickwork, just below shoulder height for the adults. “You take a deep breath and throw the Floo-powder into the fireplace. Wait for the flames to turn green. When they do, step into the flames and announce where you want to go in a firm, clear voice.” He smiled. “It’s really simple and easy. Don’t let it fluster you.

“The one mistake people make is to throw in the powder, step into the flames, and then take a breath.” He shook his head. “You get a mouthful of ashes and start coughing before you can say the destination. At worst, you cough while speaking and end up going somewhere you didn’t intend.” He looked at them, scanning them all, to make sure they understood. “So, take a breath, throw the powder, wait for the green flames, then say where you want to go as you step in!”

He smiled again. “I’ll go first to show you how it’s done, and to tell my Molly that company is coming.” He turned and took what looked like a good spoonful of powder in his hand. He looked back at them. “We’re going to The Burrow, two words, The Burrow,” he repeated carefully.

He threw the powder into the flames. When they turned green he stepped into them while saying, “The Burrow!” He disappeared.

Author's Notes:

Apple Cider is an alcoholic drink in England and its environs. In America, Apple Cider is non-alcoholic, and alcoholic cider is referred to as Hard Cider. From the show, ponies get drunk on salt, not alcohol.

30 — The Red-headed League

They all looked at each other, waiting to see who would be brave enough to go first. Not surprisingly, it was Dash. She inhaled sharply, took a bit of Floo-powder in her hand and tossed it into the flames. After they turned green, she stepped into them and said, “The Burrow.” Harry thought he saw her start to spin as she vanished.

“I will go last,” announced the Headmaster, “in case someone needs help.”

“And I have paperwork back at Hogwarts, so I’ll take my leave now,” said Professor McGonagall.

After that, one after another, they followed Dash’s lead. Twilight, Applejack, and Rarity insisted that Harry and the fillies go before them. And Apple Bloom and Scootaloo insisted on going before Harry. The Grangers would follow the Equestrians.

What Mr. Weasley had failed to mention was the spinning that took place as Harry flew through the Floo system. He could see various fireplaces flying by with glimpses of sitting rooms, kitchens, dens, and businesses, some with people in them and some without — basically, any room with a fireplace linked to the network, he decided. As each approached, he felt himself spinning to face it as if it might be his destination. Finally, one fireplace seemed to grow larger as he approached, until it, and the sitting room beyond with many standing people, was all he could see.

He shot out of the fireplace as if he had been catapulted — a sensation he remembered quite vividly from the Pony-Pitcher they had built.

“Woah!”

“Ah!”

“Look out!” he heard as he slid to a halt with a solid thud against a couch, knocking it and its occupants over backwards.

Harry blinked and tried to figure out what had happened and why he was upside down. Into the silence, he heard,

“’Cor! I’ve never seen anyone leave the Floo like that!”

“Oh my goodness! Are you all right?”

“Impressive!”

“Now that’s an entrance!”

“Do you . . .”

“. . . think we could learn . . .”

“. . . to do that?”

“Are you alright, Harry?” Apple Bloom said from beside him. She grabbed his arm and lifted him to his feet. Scootaloo took his other arm.

“I’m fine. Just . . . surprised,” he said. Rubbing the back of his head, Harry looked around. Pinkie Pie was holding a sign up that said “7”.

Two tall thin boys with bright red hair who looked exactly alike were holding signs that read “8”. They looked at the signs with puzzled expressions, before setting them down and starting to right the couch and help a younger girl, also with bright red hair, to her feet. They all had infectious grins. There was no doubt these were some of the Weasley children. Over by a door, beyond which he could see a kitchen, was a short, plump, kindly-looking woman with reddish hair. Standing beside her, shaking his head in disbelief, was Mr. Weasley.

In short order, Sweetie Belle, Applejack, and Rarity came stumbling out of the fireplace, barely keeping to their feet, but managing it. Twilight, though, followed Harry’s lead, and shot across the room like a human battering ram, once again knocking over the couch and its occupants. Except Twilight bounced up off the couch and hit the wall behind it, sliding to the floor.

Harry sighed. A quick look at Pinkie Pie revealed her holding up a sign that said “10”. Beside her were the twins and little sister, all also holding signs that said “10”. A smaller red-headed boy held a sign that said “9”. The red-heads all looked puzzled at exactly where the signs had come from and how they had ended up holding them.

A pained “Ow” came from Twilight as she regained her feet, rubbing her head and then her bare right shoulder.

The twins announced, “Blimey that’s even . . .”

“. . . more impressive an entrance . . .”

“. . . than that wizard’s!”

Their mother said, “George, Fred, behave!” “Yes, mum,” was the quick stereo response.

“But . . .”

“. . . still . . . ,” they mumbled, giving each other a sneaky smile.

Headmaster Dumbledore made an elegant entrance as he casually stepped from the fireplace and then flicked his wand to remove the copious amounts of ashes spread across the room. He surveyed the upended couch, Twilight getting to her feet and straightening her dress so it didn’t quite reveal as much as it was, and the signs being held up, with a soft smile and twinkling eyes. “Floo travel can be tricky for some people,” he said. “I trust everyone made it here, though, correct?” Various nods reassured him that they were not missing any members of their group.

Once the sitting-room was set to rights, the introductions began.

“. . . and this is Harry Potter . . . .”

There was an “eep!” from the red-headed girl, who quickly fled the room. Harry saw her peek back inside the sitting-room from the kitchen. That and everyone stared at his forehead. He just stared back at them. First in the pub this morning and now here. What was the fascination with an old scar? It was a nice scar, he thought, a really ace lightning shape. Kids who saw it when he was in primary had always been impressed, until Dudley had spread lies about him doing it to himself just to get attention. And his mane had kept it mostly hidden in Equestria.

It had been much more vivid last year. For some reason, after Tirek’s battle with Twilight in Ponyville, Harry’s scar had started to fade. He missed the old library. It had been cosy.

After the introductions, Mrs. Weasley said, “Well. Would anyone like tea?” The adults all readily agreed. “Wonderful!” she said. She looked at her older boys who were bored and already trying to decide what they wanted to do next. “Boys, why don’t you set up the tables in the garden lawn, the kitchen isn’t large enough for us all. Ron? Ginny? Why don’t you show Harry and his friends the garden and orchard?”

“Orchard?” Applejack and Apple Bloom said almost simultaneously, and looked towards the kitchen where the older boys were already headed.

Almost as soon as they left the house through the kitchen door, Fluttershy spotted a couple of chickens. With a gleeful “Oh!” that was almost loud enough to qualify as a whisper, she immediately bounded over to them.

Twilight took one look behind her at the house and grabbed Mr. Weasley. “Show me the spells you used!” she demanded. Mr. Weasley was only too happy to oblige as they started walking around the house, Twilight peppering him with questions so fast that he barely had time to answer one before she asked another.

Pinkie was the last out of the kitchen and was carrying a cake. She gave the twins a wide smile as she placed the cake on one of the two tables they had just set up.

Harry saw Molly gave Pinkie a puzzled look. She turned to Rarity and said, “Where did she get the cake?” Harry stifled a laugh.

Pinkie, now standing beside them, said, “Oh, I baked it!”

“When?” came the bewildered response.

“Just now.” Pinkie had a dazzling smile in place.

“Where?”

“Why, in your oven, of course, silly-billy!”

“But you couldn’t have, not even with magic could you bake a cake that fast!” Molly declared, hands on her hips.

“Oh, it wasn’t fast at all, about forty minutes. And then I frosted it, which took another five minutes.”

The witch stared at Pinkie, “But you weren’t in the kitchen that long!”

“I work fast,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

“But . . . .”

Rarity tapped the woman lightly on the arm. Molly looked at her, frowning. “Don’t,” said Rarity. “You’ll just get a headache and you still won’t understand.” She gave her a significant look, “It’s just Pinkie being Pinkie,” she said emphatically.

The twins were alternating staring at their mother and at Pinkie. “I don’t think anyone else,” one started.

“. . . has ever flummoxed mum . . .”

“. . . as thoroughly as us.”

Then, to change the subject, Rarity asked, “And the tea?”

The twins looked at each other. “Flying?”

“Quidditch?”

“An excellent suggestion . . .”

“. . . my dear brother.”

“To the broom shed!” They both pointed dramatically at a small shed built into the side of the house.

“Flying?” said Dash excitedly, almost leaping over to join them.

“Oh, yes,” said one.

“We try to get . . .”

“. . . as much flying practice . . .”

“. . . and Quidditch . . .”

“. . . as we can . . .”

“. . . in the summer.”

“Show me!” she said as she eagerly followed them.

Meanwhile, Applejack and Apple Bloom were inspecting the closest apple tree in the orchard. Harry, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and the two youngest red-heads trailed after them, half listening to the entertainment behind them.

Rarity sighed and looked at Mrs. Weasley. “Would you like help with the tea?”

“Oh, no, dear. I’ll have it out here in no time at all,” Molly said, after a bewildered look around at how quickly her guests had all disappeared. Pinkie was currently crawling under the roses looking for who knew what.

The Headmaster just stood by the house, taking in everything that was happening. He paid especially close attention to Pinkie when he believed she wasn’t looking at him.

Applejack studied the tree with a critical eye. “Not in the best of condition, is it, Apple Bloom?”

“Nuh, huh,”

Applejack placed her hands against the tree and looked up into the branches and at the tiny apples growing there. She closed her eyes.

“What’s she doing?” asked Ginny.

“Usin’ her magic to look inside,” came Apple Bloom’s reply.

Applejack kicked off her sandals, and dug her toes into the soil. “That’s better.”

That was when they heard, “waaaAAAAHHHHhooooo!” and Rainbow Dash shot by barely over their heads, riding a broom.

Harry and the fillies exchanged looks. Wizards and Witches could fly? On brooms? Applejack blinked and said to Ginny, “Humph. How about that . . . .” as the four Equestrian foals took off back to the house so fast Ginny later swore she could see red, orange, yellow, and white coloured trails behind them. Ron hurried after them. Hermione wasn’t as interested in flying, but still decided to follow the others. Applejack shrugged and walked over to the next tree. “Let’s see how you’re doing.”

Rarity sighed as she saw Rainbow Dash vanish among the treetops. She took the cup and saucer that the witch had floated over with her wand. Molly was staring off in the direction Dash had disappeared, as well. Rarity added the bit of sugar she liked and took a sip. She smiled appreciatively. “This is excellent tea, Molly Weasley.”

Dumbledore, who had taken a seat across from Rarity, nodded after taking a sip. “Wonderful, as always, Molly.” The Grangers murmured their approval, too.

Brought back to the garden, Molly said, “Thank you. I rather like this blend.”

Rarity looked around the garden area again, noticing the fillies and Harry closely following the instructions that the two tall twins were giving them at the shed’s door. She smiled, knowing that would keep them occupied for the rest of the afternoon.

Rarity turned her gaze back to the wizard and witch at the table with her, smiling. “So, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Professor Minerva McGonagall told us about this statute of secrecy? Why is it needed, precisely?”

The twins, seeing the kids charging towards them had already taken two more brooms from the shed. “Sorry,” one said.

“We only have . . . ,” said the other.

“. . . two extra brooms.”

“They belong to . . .”

“. . . Charlie and Bill.”

“But they won’t mind . . .”

“. . . if we let you . . .”

“. . . borrow them today.” They handed the two brooms to Harry and Apple Bloom, who had managed to arrive first.

Scootaloo mumbled, “Aw, horsefeathers! How come he always loses the unimportant races at home?”

Hermione and Sweetie Belle crowded close to inspect the brooms with the others.

“Now then,” said one of the red-heads as Ron slid to a halt beside the shed and ducked inside. “Straddle the broom . . .”

“. . . like this.” concluded the other as he demonstrated.

“Hold the handle . . .”

“. . . like this . . . ,” they said together as one repositioned Harry’s hands on this broom while the other held his broom up for them to see his grip.

Bloom and Harry quickly adopted the same stance as the twins. “Now, push off . . .”

“. . . gently with your toes . . . .” The twin on the broom demonstrated, “. . . to go up.”

“Lean forward . . .”

“. . . to go forward.”

“Lean backwards . . .”

“. . . to slow down . . .”

“. . . or stop.”

“Push the broom down . . .”

“. . . to go down . . .”

“. . . and pull up . . .”

“. . . to go up.”

“And Bob’s your uncle!” they concluded in chorus.

“You can’t go too high . . .”

“. . . or the muggles might see you.”

“And stay over the orchard . . .”

“. . . but not too close to the edges . . .”

“. . . for the same reason.”

For several minutes the two newbies flew around the house, experimenting. Harry felt as if his face might break in two, it was so much fun and he was grinning so hard. He saw Ron give his broom to Sweetie Belle. Reluctantly, he landed back beside the watching Hermione and Scootaloo, followed by one of the twins. He handed his broom to Scootaloo. “You’re gonna love this Scoots.” Reverently she took it and stood astride it as the twins had shown her. The one who had followed Harry leaned over and nodded approvingly at her grip. “That’s the ticket!” he said. His brother landed a moment later.

Scootaloo hovered for a moment, moved slowly forward and turned around to face them, a giant grin on her face. She looked around, making the broom spin gently, twirling her in a circle. She took a deep breath as she lifted her nose, as if she were smelling the air. She stopped and exhaled, looked over at them and grinned even wider. She rolled her shoulders, yanked the broom almost vertical, and shot into the air straight up, leaving behind a trailing and faint “YAHOOOOOoo.”

Just before they lost sight of her, she arched over backwards and plummeted back down, laughing like a madwoman. She pulled out just feet above them to shoot off into the orchard while rotating around her broom.

After a moment’s stunned silence, the twins said, “That one’s . . .”

“. . . a natural . . .”

“. . . I’d say . . .”

“. . . wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry. “She’s been dying to fly for years.” Apple Bloom landed and held out her broom to Hermione.

“Oh?” said one.

“Do you live . . . ,” said the other.

“. . . among muggles?” finished the first one.

Harry and Apple Bloom glanced at each other. “It’s complicated,” said Harry. “We don’t have flying brooms, and there aren’t any muggles around.” He half-smiled shyly. “In fact, until I got my Hogwarts letter we didn’t even know there were muggles, wizards, or witches.”

The three red-heads stared at them. “No muggles?”

“No wizards?”

“No witches?”

“No magic?”

“What?”

“Oh, we have magic. Everypo . . . everyone has magic. It’s just that we never thought about using wands. Or brooms for flying,” Apple Bloom explained.

The three Weasleys stared at them. “Um, flying carpets . . .”

“. . . perhaps?”

“Flying carpets!?” Apple Bloom and Harry exchanged looks. “That sounds like fun!” said Apple Bloom. She grinned at Harry and said, in a low tone, “Cutie Mark Crusaders Flying Carpet Makers?”

Harry grinned back. “Perhaps another day.”

“But if you don’t have wands,” said Ron, “how do you do magic?”

Harry looked around uncertainly and shuffled his feet nervously. “We just do.”

The twins looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

Harry looked around, and then stepped over to the shed. “Like this.” He stepped back and as he did a hoe, rake, and shovel floated out beside him.

“‘Cor!”

“Blimey!”

“Brill!”

“What else can you do?” Ron eagerly asked.

“Teleport?” Harry looked unsure. “Illusions?”

“What’s telapart?”

Harry frowned. “Teleport.” He closed his eyes, then looked back into the shed. He frowned. “I’m not sure I can do that here, but here goes!”

He concentrated, then staggered as he nearly lost his balance on the shed’s uneven floor. When he stepped out the three red-heads went goggle-eyed.

“You can apparate?” Ron breathed. His brothers appeared equally astounded.

“Not well, yet.” Harry looked around the garden area and sighed. “At home, I can get about four or five. . . miles, tops. Never had to go farther, actually, so maybe I could do more.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know what my limit is.” He looked up as Twilight and Mr. Weasley came around the corner of the house, still discussing how the house used magic. “Twilight can go over several hundred miles. Princess Celestia can go anywhere in the world.”

Ron turned to Apple Bloom. “And you can do all that, too?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “My magic is Earth magic. Anything to do with the Earth, Ah can work with it.”

The boys looked puzzled.

“Like this.” Apple Bloom walked over to a nearby bush that wasn’t doing as well as the ones to its sides.

“That’s dill planted there . . . , ” said one of the twins.

“. . . and that one is always a bit small,” finished the other.

Apple Bloom nodded and dropped to her knees. She put her hands in the dirt to either side of sickly plant. Nothing happened for a moment, then, to the red-heads’ amazement, the plant began to grow. Its stalks grew taller and thicker, and the buds suddenly burst open into brilliant yellow blooms.

She leaned back, then stood. “The soil thar’s a bit sandy, drains the water away too fast. Try a good helpin’ o’ manure before the winter and work it well into the ground. Don’t over water it.”

Harry grinned. “I bet Applejack’ll have a whole list of things you need to do for your orchard. And your crop this year will be fantastic!”

“wheeeeEEeeeeee!” Scootaloo zipped by them.

Sweetie Belle drifted over to them, not nearly as confident in her flying skills, but still sporting a huge grin. Hermione was following her at a much lower altitude and had a hesitant smile.

“And what’s her specialty?” asked one of the twins, watching Scootaloo disappear into the orchard again.

“She’s a pegasus. They handle the weather at home — move the clouds, make it rain, stuff like that.”

“A weather witch!” They exchanged looks.

“That’d be handy . . .”

“. . . at Hogwarts.”

“Just imagine . . .”

“. . . always perfect weather . . .”

“. . . for Quidditch!” The twins grinned widely at each other.

“What about you?” asked Ron, looking at Sweetie Belle.

“She can do magic like me,” Harry said. “She can’t teleport yet, but she’s been doing levitating since she was a fo . . . toddler.”

The Weasleys looked at Sweetie Belle with awe.

For a long moment the elderly wizard looked at her. “You have never heard of the Statute of Secrecy?”

Rarity tilted her head, “No, dear. Everyone has magic. It would be silly to try to keep that a secret.”

“Interesting.” He sighed and took off his glasses. He pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping the lenses. “The International Confederation of Wizards proposed the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1689 and it became established law in 1692 — three hundred years ago.” He put his glasses back on and gave her a long look. “It was thought at the time that wizards and witches in every country in the world had been contacted and were a part of the Confederation.” He smiled ruefully, “Apparently not.” He cleared his throat.

“It was a response to the muggle witch-hunts going on long ago. As the witch-hunts grew ever fiercer, wizarding families began to live double lives, using charms of concealment to protect themselves and their families. Wizarding families were prone to losing younger family members, whose inability to control their own magic attracted Muggle witch-hunters. By the seventeenth century, any witch or wizard who chose to meet with Muggles became suspect of colluding with the muggles. Some even became outcasts in their own communities.”

“Witch hunts?”

“Yes. The muggles accused wizards and witches of treating them as inferiors, of using their magic to sicken livestock, ruin crops, steal, and commit other crimes against them. Basically, anything that went wrong for a muggle was blamed on a witch or a wizard, true or false was of no concern. It didn’t matter how trivial a matter it was; if someone dropped a bucket of water, it was because an evil witch made them do it, not that they were simply clumsy. They also accused witches and wizards of consorting with Satan, the demon of Christianity and opponent of the God they worshipped. Sometimes just the accusation, without proof, could get the priests to destroy a family.”

Rarity nodded several times, thinking. “And were they? Doing those things?”

Mrs. Weasley, Rarity noticed, looked guilty.

“Are they still doing those things?” she added, arching an eyebrow and leaning back in her chair.

“Unfortunately,” the Headmaster said, “there are always those who feel that they are superior to others and act upon those feelings without considering the repercussions of their actions.” He shook his head sadly.

“So, the muggles were justified, in part, in chasing after wizards and witches. And if the only wizards and witches they met did them evil, then it would be easy for them to assume that all witches and wizards were evil, would it not?”

“I suppose that is so,” said the Headmaster sagely.

Molly looked guilty, still, but then she brightened.

“We are trying to put a stop that. My Arthur is the director of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. It’s his job to hunt down items that were enchanted by wizards and witches that have fallen into the hands of muggles.” She frowned, “Although there are a few who do that on purpose. He told me last week that he had found a few vanishing keys.”

“Vanishing keys?”

“Oh, yes. A wizard will duplicate a muggle key and enchant the key to keep getting smaller until it vanishes. It’s very hard, though, to convict anyone because no Muggle will admit their key keeps shrinking — they’ll insist they just keep losing it. And then find it again when they don’t need it.” She shook her head ruefully. “Bless them, they’ll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it’s staring them in the face . . . .”

Rarity turned her attention to the Headmaster again. “You mentioned a god and demon? Can you tell me more?”

Dumbledore adopted a scholarly contemplative expression, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his hands’ fingers together over his stomach. “The major religion in England is Christianity. The believers worship an entity known as God. A key feature of this religion is that it has a demon known as Satan that tries to trick believers into betraying their god. They call this demon Satan, the King of Lies.”

Rarity nodded her understanding. “And where does this God live?”

The wizard, witch, and Grangers, exchanged looks.

“Well, according to the Bible, the book of the Jews and Christians, he lives in Heaven with his son.”

“Jews?”

“Christianity is an offshoot of the Jewish religion. They share the same holy book, with the same God and Satan. One thousand nine hundred and ninety-one years ago, the Christians say that God sent his son into the world to teach a new way for his followers to get into heaven, splitting off from the Jews.”

“Wait,” Rarity sat up straight, frowning. “Why aren’t the Jews Christians if their God told them to obey his son?”

“The Jews don’t believe that Christ is the son of God.”

Rarity sat back and stared at them in disbelief. “And their God hasn’t corrected them? Why does she allow this? That makes no sense! Unless this God enjoys conflict? How distasteful!” She shook her head, making an expression of mild disgust. “Is she a God of Chaos?”

Again the others exchanged puzzled looks.

Mr. Granger sat forward, looking at Rarity. “No one can ask God or Christ directly, they’re in Heaven. We only have what was written down two thousand years ago when Christ was preaching to the Jews.”

“And you can’t make an appointment to go to Heaven and ask?”

They all frowned. After a quick puzzled look at his wife, Mr. Granger continued, “Only after you die do you go to Heaven. And if you’ve failed to follow the teachings of Christ, you may go to Hell instead.”

Rarity was shaking her head. “No, this makes no sense. If you can’t talk to your god directly, how do you know she even exists? Much less that the stories about her are true.”

The Headmaster chuckled softly, “And there you have the crux of the matter between wizards and Christians. A Wizard wants to see evidence that there is a God — if there is, wouldn’t magic reveal him? — and the Christians say you must take it on faith.”

After a moment of watching Rarity still shaking her head in disbelief, he asked, eyes twinkling, “And what of yourself and your friends? What do you believe? Do you have a religion?”

She sighed and took another sip of her tea. “I suppose we don’t really have a religion. Oh,” she waved her hand dismissively, “some pray to Princess Celestia, and more lately, Princess Luna and Princess Cadenza.” She paused. “And, fortunately, Twilight hasn’t had enough attention yet for it to be an issue. But there’s no organized religion, no holy book of what Celestia has said. Unless you count history books. Celestia actually discourages pon . . . people worshiping her. She says it’s annoying and wastes her time. And leads to fights as po . . . people argue about what exactly she meant when she said something she considers trivial. Such as the time she said every . . . one should brush their teeth. There were fights about how toothbrushes should be made to properly show respect for Celestia.” She shook her head.

“And what Princess Luna says about worshipers isn’t language fit for mixed company! You start praying to her and you’ll be getting nightmares every night.”

That got the Grangers and the other two frowning again.

Slowly, considering his words carefully, Dumbledore asked, “Doesn’t Princess Celestia rule your homeland?”

“Oh, yes!” Rarity straightened. “She’s ruled for over two thousand years now, except for that period when Dis . . . the God of Chaos ruled.” She paused and wrinkled her nose. “Confidentially, I don’t like saying his name,” she said, “It might attract his attention.” She gave a delicate shudder, “You do not want him popping up in front of you!” She sighed. “Fluttershy claims he’s reformed, but I don’t know.” She stared at her cup for a moment before taking another sip. “However, no one is positive exactly how long he ruled.” She shook her head. “It was impossible to keep track, but that was at about one and a half thousand years ago.”

Then she said, “Princess Celestia has an open court every weekday in Canterlot. Anyone can petition to be heard. The wait list for non-governmental business is long, though, I’ve heard you have to make an appointment a year in advance, now. But if it’s a real emergency she’ll see you immediately.”

The others thought about that for a moment. “Who is the Queen?” asked Dumbledore.

“Queen?” Rarity tittered behind her hand. “We don’t have a Queen. Or a King. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are co-rulers. You can’t have two Kings or Queens, but you can have as many Princesses as you want.”

“Ah,” said the Headmaster, stroking his beard, “I suppose you can.”

“And we’ve had a thousand years of peace with her as our ruler, so we have no complaints!” She gave them a happy smile. “You know the old curse — well, it’s not really a curse, it’s not a spell of any kind, but still, some call it a curse — ‘May you live in interesting times’? Well the last thousand years have been positively boring!”

Her smile slowly went away. She scowled delicately and murmured, “Though, the last two years have been a bit excitable . . . .”

The wizards looked at her questioningly, clearly wondering what had been happening in the last two years.

31 — Divide and Conquer

Rarity was still shaking her head as she thought about how quiet Ponyville had been prior to Twilight moving there, when Harry and Apple Bloom walked over. They were followed by Sweetie Belle and Hermione on their borrowed brooms. “Rarity!” declared Sweetie Belle. “We need to buy broomsticks today!” The others were nodding emphatically. “We’re going back for the trunks, anyway, so we can pick them up at the same time.”

Rarity stared at her sister, one eyebrow elegantly raised. “Broomsticks? As I recall,” she glanced at Harry, “Your letters said first-years are not allowed to have broomsticks at Hogwarts.” She looked at them sternly and crossed her arms.

Sweetie Belle waved her hand dismissively, “That’s true, but we want them to fly here. The twins told us we could come over anytime to fly here, because we live in a muggle area. But they don’t have enough brooms for all of us at the same time. And it would be quite an imposition to ask that the colts give up their brooms just so we could fly on them.”

At that moment, Scootaloo shot by the table, hanging upside down on the broom, screaming, “wheeeeEEeeeeeee!” Ron and the twins drifted closer and watched from their brooms, mouths agape. “And she’s never been on a broom before?” Ron said incredulously.

“Yeah,” added Harry. “If we don’t get our own brooms, I think we’re gonna need a crowbar to pry Scootaloo off the broom she’s borrowed.”

Sweetie Belle sighed and nodded, “But first we’d have to catch her.”

Harry and the two fillies all sighed as they watched Scootaloo slalom through the orchard. “It would make far more sense to purchase our own.” Sweetie Belle continued, “That way we could all fly our brooms at the same time.” She looked at her sister with wide pleading eyes and a slight tremble to her lower lip. If she could have managed to make her ears tilt forward hopefully, she would have done that too. “We’ll use our own bits, so we won’t be taking it from the bits Princess Celestia set aside for school. Please?” She clasped her hands together in front of her chest. The Weasleys exchanged glances at the phrase “our own bits.” Buying a new broom wasn’t cheap. Were these new witches rich?

Rarity’s stern visage wavered a moment, then broke. She sighed and took a deep breath. “Well, I guess so. If Twilight and Applejack agree.” Harry and Sweetie Belle grinned happily. Dash would be delighted at the prospect of getting a broom. Twilight would be a cinch. And Applejack would cave when she saw the others had already capitulated.

Twilight and Arthur were just passing the broom shed. “That is fascinating,” they heard her say. She looked up and saw them staring at her. She immediately blushed. She had forgotten all about the tea. She hurried over with Arthur, who was also looking abashed at having forgotten why they came outside in the first place. His wife, Molly, glared at him, not forgiving in the slightest at his leaving her with their other guests.

Apple Bloom cupped her hands around her mouth, took a deep breath, and yelled, “SCOOTALOO!” Harry felt the table vibrate. Everyone around the table winced. He looked down to see that Apple Bloom was bare foot.

The twins made a show of rubbing their ears. “Quite a pair . . .”

“. . . of lungs on that girl.”

Ron nodded agreement. Pinkie Pie popped out of a rosebush holding up a sign that read, “7”, then dropped down and disappeared. Harry wondered what she was doing.

“Well, when you’re at one end of the Sweet Apple Acres and your sister is at the other end . . . .” Apple Bloom shrugged apologetically.

She waited a moment, then put her hands up again. Harry and the others quickly covered their ears. Just as she was taking a deep breath, Scootaloo came falling out of the sky, pulling up at the last moment to drift to a stop beside the other filly. “Yeah?”

Apple Bloom leaned close and whispered the plan into her ear.

“No!” Scootaloo said, not quite believing her, but leaning back to look at Apple Bloom with an expression of delight. Somehow, she managed to hold her broom absolutely still despite her movements.

Less than a minute later, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo were giving Twilight the Cuteness of Doom look. It took only seconds for the transformed alicorn to give in to their exhortations. With two down, only Applejack and Rainbow Dash remained. Harry knew they would get to them when they came back to the table for tea — although Rainbow Dash might also need a crowbar to separate her from the broom she was riding.

Shaking his head at the antics of the three girls, Ron said, “Did you know they can do wandless magic, dad? And that they’ve been taught since they were little?” A bit of outrage was evident in that last sentence, at the thought that he had been denied something that others had been given.

That attracted the attention of all the wizarding adults.

“They can, can they?” murmured Dumbledore, looking at the three girls. Harry looked at the ground, frowning. The Headmaster was obviously pretending his Deputy hadn’t informed him of their abilities the night before.

The fillies looked at each other and shrugged. Sweetie Belle stepped closer to the table and frowned. Rarity’s cup and saucer slowly rose into the air, hovered, rock steady, then gently returned.

The wizards watched with raised eyebrows. Molly said, “My goodness, would you look at that! And wandless!”

“Is that unusual?” asked Mr. Granger.

“Oh, yes,” answered Mr. Weasley. “True, some children do accidental magic when they’re excited or emotional, but even for adult wizards very few can do wandless magic on demand.”

The Grangers regarded the blushing Sweetie Belle with new respect.

Rarity gave her a big smile. “Well done, Sweetie,” she said proudly. “Excellent control!” Sweetie Belle’s blush deepened. She looked over to the wizards. “We start teaching our little ones to use their magic as soon as they show interest in it.”

“And Harry can even disapparate!” Ron said jealously.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Teleport.”

“So? Show them!”

Harry sighed, there was a flash of light, and suddenly he was on the other side of the garden as the faint sound of bells tinkling faded. A moment later, another flash, more faint bells, and he was back where he had been.

“Wandless apparition,” murmured the Headmaster, eyes twinkling as he stared at Harry.

Harry shook his head, “No, teleportation, not apar-whatever.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

Twilight looked at the old wizard. “Perhaps you could show us what you mean by apparition?”

The Headmaster nodded sagely, “An excellent suggestion.” He stood and held his wand at his side. Twilight Sparkle watched carefully. He started to turn and with a soft pop he was on the other side of the garden. A second equally soft pop and he was back.

She blinked, frowned, and looked a bit upset. “Would you do that again?” she half demanded as she stared intently at the wizard, and watched his every move. Shrugging, eyes twinkling, the Headmaster disapparated from beside the table and apparated to the other side of the garden, then he returned. Both were accompanied by soft, almost silent, pops.

Twilight leaned back in her chair, eyes wide in shock. “That spell is horrible!” she declared, appalled. “Where are the safeties? There’s almost nothing to protect you from getting hurt! And if you’re moving?” She shuddered. “It would probably kill you!”

The wizards and Molly stared at her. “What?” said Arthur.

Twilight stood. “Didn’t you see? The magic is malformed! And there are no safeties except for an obvious attempt to make it only slightly less lethal!” She turned to the fillies and pointed a finger at them, “I forbid you to use that spell! That abomination is simply too dangerous!” She turned back to the Headmaster. “It lets you teleport even when the destination is blocked! That could be fatal! How can you allow anypony to use it? Why haven’t you fixed it?” She ranted in outrage. “Whoever made that was a rank amateur.” She stopped and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did they even think about it,” she asked rhetorically.

The wizards were quite taken aback at her declarations, giving each other astonished looks. “I assure you, Miss Sparkle,” Dumbledore said, “the apparition spell is quite safe for experienced wizards and witches. Although we do restrict its use to Wizards who are of age only, as the younger ones tend to have problems with it.”

Twilight snorted, “I bet they have problems with it!” She stood, arms crossed, thinking hard. “Harry, would you go to Little Whinging?”

“Sure,” he said a bit uncertainly. “What do you want?”

“Oh, here, take these with you.” She floated the fillies’ rucksacks to him from where they had dumped them by the kitchen door.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll try.” He put his rucksack on, then hefted the others by their straps.

“He’s too young for such a distance, especially with that much extra to carry, even if it is shrunken,” Dumbledore objected, “He’ll splinch himself if he tries that!”

“If Harry can’t manage it, the teleport spell simply won’t work. Unlike your apparition spell which would hurt him,” she said derogatorily.

Harry teleported into the sitting-room at Eleven Magnolia Road.

Spike, sitting on the couch watching the telly, jumped two feet into the air. “Celestia!” He cried. “Give a dragon a little warning, will you?” He stood in front of the couch, one hand on his chest, breathing heavily.

Harry grinned at him. “Sorry, Twi sent me to drop these off.” He headed upstairs and dumped the contents of his rucksack, all galleons, on his bed. He did the same with the fillies’ rucksacks in their room.

He was about to return when he had a thought. Moments later, in the sitting-room again, he said, “Hey Spike, wanna meet some wizards and witches?”

Spike looked at him, puzzled. “I thought Twilight wanted me to stay here because you were going to be out with the non-magicals . . . and because that stupid statue thing says I can’t be seen by them. And, she was worried what the magicals would say because dragons are so fierce here.” He looked a bit proud of being considered dangerous and fierce.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “but now we’re at a witch’s house and everyone there knows about magic. And less than ten magicals.”

Spike grinned, “Sure. It’s boring doing nothing here. And I can nap only so much.”

“Hop in,” Harry said, squatting down beside the couch so Spike could climb into his rucksack. “All set?”

“Woah, this is pretty comfy,” Spike said, standing in the rucksack with one clawed hand on Harry’s right shoulder while he looked over Harry’s left. Harry stood up. “Wow, the view up here is much better, too!”

“Yeah, just don’t set my hair on fire, okay?”

“Hay, it only happened once to Twilight! And that was just bad timing that Princess Celestia sent a message right then.”

“Still . . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” the little dragon said, slightly disgruntled at the accusation. He was quite proud of his flame control.

“Ready?”

“Yep”

And Harry was back in the Weasley garden to the faint sound of tinkling bells.

Twilight smiled happily at him. “See, Headmaster, no problems whatsoever. If he couldn’t make the trip for any reason, the spell would have simply not worked. And it automatically includes whatever the caster wants, as long as the caster has the power to do it.”

The wizards were staring at Harry with wide eyes.

“Is that a dragon?” Ron said loudly, pointing.

“Hiya, mum,” Spike said, waving. “Now this is the way to travel! Nice and comfy, no worries about falling off or having to hold on!” He grinned happily.

“It talks!” the twins said in chorus

“Of course I talk!” Spike said indignantly, “Do you think I’m stupid?”

There was a resounding silence in answer to his question.

“You okay, Harry?” asked Twilight.

“I’m fine,” said Harry, dropping the girls’ rucksacks on the table.

Twilight gave him a glare.

“No, honestly, I’m fine,” Harry protested.

She lowered her head slightly to glare at him under her eyebrows.

Harry sighed. “Okay, I have a slight headache and I feel a little tired, but it has been a busy morning so it doesn’t have to be the teleport!”

Sweetie Belle giggled. “Yes, Harry, we know. You’re always just fine.”

“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom. Also grinning, she looked over at the wizards, “For Harry, ‘I’m fine’ usually translates into ‘I’m not dead yet, thank you for asking.’”

Scootaloo added, “If Harry says ‘I don’t feel good,” you’d better get him to the hospital before it’s too late.” The others stopped laughing and all three nodded seriously.

“But he’s getting better at that, aren’t you, Harry,” Twilight said warningly.

Harry sighed. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Spike jumped down from Harry’s backpack to the table, and looked around.

The wizards, and muggles, stared at him. Mrs. Weasley leaned back a bit from the table.

“What? Haven’t you seen a dragon before?”

“Why yes,” said the Headmaster, “we have, but never have we heard of one so well-spoken as yourself.”

“He’s my son and number one assistant,” Twilight said proudly, “aren’t you Spike?”

Spike blushed under the dual praise.

“I raised him from an egg.” She smiled fondly.

“Yeah,” Spike added, “The day mom hatched me was the day she discovered her cutie mark for magic.” He grinned. “Almost blew up Celestia’s entire school, too!”

“I did not!” Twilight denied, blushing.

Applejack snickered. “I heard they had to rebuild the testing hall, though. Something about needing a whole new roof and replacing all the melted marble columns.”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“You turned your parents into potted plants! Cacti, if I remember correctly!”

“Who told you that?” Twilight demanded, aghast, leaning back in surprise.

“They did, at your coronation party this Spring!”

“It was an accident! I was only eight at the time!” Twilight mumbled, now blushing as red as a beet. “And Princess Celestia turned them back to normal immediately afterwards,” she said, louder.

“Yeah, well Shining Armour told me he’s caught both of them standing in the back-garden in the sun on hot summer days! Just standing there! They say it’s quite peaceful and relaxing. He told me that when he discovered them in the back-garden the third time, your dad asked him spray them with some water because he was feeling a bit thirsty. He’s pretty sure your dad was joking, but sometimes he wonders.”

Twilight covered her face with her hands and groaned.

Applejack and Rarity laughed while the fillies giggled. Spike just grinned and walked across the table to give his mum a hug. “And Princess Celestia made you her personal student, and you got me, so it wasn’t all bad, was it Twi?” Spike said.

The wizards were listening intently, Harry saw, expressions ranging from surprise (most of the adults) to awe (especially the twins) to concentration (Dumbledore).

“What’s so funny? If you don’t mind telling me, that is. It’s okay if you don’t want to . . . .” Fluttershy appeared to have been hiding behind Applejack.

“Oh, Fluttershy, we were just reminiscing about the day Spike was hatched and we all got our cutie marks.”

“And picking on me,” Twilight put in, still hiding behind her hands, her elbows on the table. Spike was leaning against her hugging her head.

“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject as she sat upright, dislodging Spike. “I can’t believe you use that . . . that abomination of a spell!” she said as she scowled. “It looks like something a First Year at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Uni . . . Students would put together. Our teleport spell is an elegant solution of magical engineering!”

“Whatever do you mean?” Arthur Weasley asked.

The Headmaster listened attentively.

Twilight sighed. “Let’s break it down, shall we?

“First, with that . . . apparition,” she shuddered, “you specify your destination. That’s alright. Second, you start to gather your magic. That’s wrong! Third, you do a check on your person. Fourth, you push your magic through your stick.”

“Wand,” corrected Mr. Weasley.

“And that’s all you do!” She shook her head and threw her hands up in the air, exasperated.
“The second step should be setting your safeties! Is the destination blocked? Is there room for you at the destination? Is it safe at the destination? Is the integrity routine engaged? Is the power requirement routine engaged? Is the interference lockout set?

“The third step is pushing your magic into the spell. The fourth step is to release the spell! And nothing happens until all the safeties are satisfied! Then and only then does the spell complete and you teleport.

“I’ll show you!” Using her magic she pulled out her quill, ink, and paper from her purse and started writing and drawing with her magic. The quill fairly flew across the page. She leaned over the paper with her forearms against the table, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The Weasleys stared at her, astounded at the display of fine-control wandless magic. The Headmaster, on the other hand, was watching Twilight intently. Harry and the fillies just rolled their eyes while the other Equestrians watched, amused. The Grangers looked on, puzzled.

Hermione had slowly moved around the table and was now watching over Twilight’s shoulder. Sweetie Belle joined her a moment later.

Twilight finished one paper and started a second. Then pulled out a third sheet and began to copy things over to it from the first two. After a few minutes, Twilight sat up. “There,” she said in satisfaction, “that should do it. This version will work with your wands.”

She turned to the Weasley parents, “Do you have a wand I can borrow for a few minutes?”

“Did she just redesign a spell?” whispered one twin incredulously to the other.

“And only took a few minutes to do it,” said the other. They looked at each other

“That’s supposed to be . . . ,”

“. . . extremely difficult.”

“And dangerous.” They nodded in sync.

“We approve!”

Headmaster Dumbledore studied Twilight carefully.

The two adults looked at each other. “Well, I think we might have a spare in the nightstand?” said Mrs. Weasley uncertainly. Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement.

“Take mine,” said one of the twins stepping forward.

“Wonderful,” said Twilight, taking it from his outstretched hand before his parents could object. She turned to Hermione. “Here, take this.” She held out the wand.

Gingerly, as if afraid she might break it, the girl took the wand in her right hand.

“Now look at this,” Twilight held up the paper she had been drawing on. “See this line of numbers and symbols? Memorize it.”

Hermione stared at the paper, her lips moving slightly as she studied it. Sweetie Belle looked over her shoulder and nodded. She had learned this spell months ago, not that she could get it to work. The only differences were the changes Twilight made to accommodate somepony using a wand instead of their horn. Finally, Hermione closed her eyes a moment, then looked back at the paper. She smiled and said, “Done!”

Twilight said, “Now, look at this diagram. See how the numbers and characters loop around and back to here? And the rest of the numbers and characters loop over here? And that symbol is in this circle where they both end?” For the next few minutes, Sweetie Belle and Harry watched as Twilight gave the girl the short form of the hours-long lecture they had endured when she had explained the spell first to him and then to her last year. While he had teleported before, it was a foal’s teleport and not something you want to use on a regular basis — for the very reasons she had just explained.

By the time the Princess had finished, Hermione had a bare-bones understanding of the symbols on the paper and how they related to each other. Twilight then grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. She leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against the girl’s, and said, “Now run through the equation, fitting it to the diagram layout.”

Harry realized that the place Twilight was pressing against Hermione’s head was where her horn would be if she had one. She had done the same thing to him several times over the year as she taught him spells. She would cross horns with him to watch him build the spell in his horn. Neither moved for several moments.

“Good,” said Twilight, leaning back and nodding her head. She released Hermione’s hand. “Now, see that rosebush over there.” She pointed. Hermione nodded. “Teleport over there by building the spell in your mind.” Hermione looked at her. Twilight nodded again. “Picture the diagram in your mind, run through the equation I showed you, just as you did a moment ago. Then push your magic into the spell, and release the spell.”

Hermione stood there for a moment and looked at the rosebush. Then she turned to Twilight. “Nothing happened,” she said disappointedly.

“You have to want to go there, dear,” said Rarity. “Merely looking at it isn’t enough.”

Mr. Granger snorted. “You want motivation?” He stood up and took something from his wife’s purse. He walked over to the rosebush and held up a book. “Hermione, here’s a new book we picked up at that wizarding bookstore, it’s Famous Witches of the Twentieth Century.” He wriggled it back and forth a couple of times. “We were going to save this for your birthday next month. You can read it tonight only if you teleport over . . .”

Hermione took the book from his hand, bells faintly tinkling in the background.

“. . . here?” he finished, blinking his eyes from the flash of light

She smirked at him, then stuck out her tongue. She opened the book and started to read as she slowly walked back to the table. The wand stuck up from her hand as she held the book. “Thank you, daddy,” she called out distractedly.

“I guess we’ll have to find something else for her birthday,” her mother said dryly as she glared at her husband.

“That’s not fair!” complained Sweetie Belle. “I’ve been working on that spell for months!” She stomped over to the other girl. “May I use the wand?”

Hermione didn’t look up from the book, she just tilted the book so the wand in her hand pointed at the other girl.

Sweetie Belle took the wand and turned around to face the table. She scowled as Harry smirked at her. She took a deep breath, let it out. She frowned, and reappeared beside the table in a flash of light and sound of bells. Her eyes shot wide open. “I did it! I finally did it!” She started hopping in place.

Rarity stood and hugged her, stopping the bouncing, momentarily. “Wonderful, Sweetie Belle, I knew you could do it!”

Sweetie Belle hugged her in return, then smirked at Harry. She and Rarity disappeared in a flash of white. “Oh my Celestia!” they heard from the kitchen. And a moment later the two were again outside by the table. “Now, behave yourself,” Rarity admonished.

Still grinning like a fool, Sweetie Belle, said, “Of course, Rarity.” She gave her sister another happy squeeze. Eyes shining, Sweetie Belle turned and walked, no, bounced over to the twins. She stopped and wavered for a moment. “Woah,” she said quietly, “That was tiring.” She blinked a few times, then held out the wand, and said, “Thank you. I really appreciate you letting me use your wand!”

“See!” exclaimed Twilight, pointing at the two as she stared at the adult wizards. “So easy, I taught a child how to do it safely in only a few minutes. And if you tried to take a passenger with you using that, that, apparation, like she just did, they would probably get sick, or hurt, because your spell is so malformed.” She scowled and mumbled, “How you can’t see that, I don’t know!”

Barely loud enough for Harry to hear, and he was sure they were trying to prevent their parents from hearing, the Weasley twins whispered to Sweetie Belle. “Think you could. . .”

“. . . teach us that spell?”

She grinned at them, “Sure!”

They grinned back at her and began herding her a bit farther away from the table.

“I’ll need a quill and paper,” she said.

“No problem!” said one twin as he pulled a crumpled paper out of a pocket while his brother pulled out a quill and ink bottle.

Dumbledore had probably heard the same conversation Harry had, because he sternly said, “I must remind you, Harry,” as he looked the boy in the eye. “Miss Belle,” he switched to her as she turned to look at him. “Miss Granger,” Hermione turned a page, still reading. “It is against Ministry law for underage children to apparate. And Apparition itself requires a license for adults.” He pointedly did not look at the twins. “So, please, restrain yourselves until you are of age.”

“But it’s not apparating!” objected Twilight.

“I’m sure the Ministry will take your arguments under consideration, but as far as they are concerned, if Mr. Potter or Miss Belle are caught teleporting and they have a wand in their possession, the Ministry will conclude that they must have apparated.”

Twilight frowned, but couldn’t really argue against him. There was no way to prove that Harry or Sweetie Belle hadn’t used their wand to teleport in that situation.

Harry and Sweetie Belle exchanged looks, and tried to hide their smiles. So, if they didn’t have their wands with them, then the Ministry couldn’t say they were apparating, now could they?

“And that brings up another subject,” Dumbledore continued in a more jovial tone, “It strikes me that Harry and his friends might find it beneficial to stay for a time in a magical environment instead of at Little Whinging. Once they get their wands they won’t be able to use them in muggle neighbourhoods, but they could practice here.”

Hermione looked up from her book, crushed that she wouldn’t be able to practice magic at home. And her parents were none too happy to hear of the obvious advantages the wizard-born had.

Mrs. Weasley looked scandalized as she said, “But children are not supposed to use their wands out of Hogwarts!”

The Headmaster looked at her smiling kindly. “Everyone knows that the pureblood families let their children practice magic behind the protective charms surrounding their homes. Some even encourage it,” he said softly. He paused and looked at the Grangers, “It’s only the muggle-born living without those charms that are restricted.”

The twins were both high-fiving each other behind their parents’ backs at the way the Headmaster had neatly maneuvered their mother into allowing them to use their wands whenever they were at home.

“You don’t mind, do you, if the children stay here until the train for Hogwarts leaves?” The old wizard turned to look at the Weasleys.

Molly gave an uncertain look at her husband. He nodded, and looked deliberately at the old wizard. She looked between the two for a moment. She seemed to consider how doing a favour for the Headmaster might help her family. Then she said, “No, of course not, we’d love for them to stay.”

Then she paused a moment, thinking on how the arrangements might work out for the family. She smiled and clasped her hands together happily. “With both Bill and Charlie out of the house, we have plenty of room for the girls. And Harry can share with Ron.” By this time, she was actually excited at the thought of having four girls to keep her daughter company.

Twilight was surprised at the offer, but Rarity spoke first, “Oh, that is exceedingly generous of you to offer! Unfortunately, we have already planned for the . . . girls and Harry to return home with us until school starts.”

32 — Appearances can be Deceiving

Author's Notes:

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Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were staying at Eleven Magnolia Road? And won’t Mr. Potter miss his friends if he’s in Little Whinging and they are in your homeland?” He looked between the fillies and Harry.

Twilight stared at him a moment, then said, “Oh, no, Harry will be returning with us. His . . . relatives,” she made a face as if she had tasted something bitter, “are quite busy at the moment and won’t be returning to Little Whinging for a while. I’m sure they won’t care whether he’s at our place in Little Whinging or not. It’s all the same to them. As long as they don’t have to worry about Harry, they’re perfectly happy.”

The Equestrians’ solicitor had been rather surprised at just how much the Dursleys hadn’t cared where Harry was when he had talked with them at the police holding facility. As Harry had expected, the scumbags had been disappointed when Dudley had told them he was still alive, but delighted when Yueshi had said Harry wished to keep as far from them as they wanted to be from him. That, and relieved that they wouldn’t be charged with murder. Not that they considered that a crime in regards to Harry’s freakish heredity.

Lin had meant to ask about the possibility of making Twilight his legal guardian, but for some reason had forgotten to mention the subject. He was still puzzled about that, but Twilight had suggested that magic might be involved, and that they should wait on that subject. There was no real hurry, after all — he was going to be at a boarding school for the next ten months.

“That is true,” Rarity agreed with Twilight. “But leaving them here, unsupervised, would be asking for trouble.”

That the Headmaster had told her children it was okay to use their wands at home when she had been refusing them for years had certainly put Mrs. Weasley in a bad mood. Hence her frosty reaction of, “Oh, I assure you, I can watch over them quite easily.” Having her parenting skills questioned wasn’t improving her mood in the slightest.

“Oh, I’m sure you have plenty of practice, my dear, what with having so many children,” Rarity said soothingly. “But the Crusaders are more than a handful for anyone.” The other mares nodded. Rarity turned to where she had last seen Sweetie Belle, but the filly and the Weasley twins were nowhere in sight. She frowned and turned to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo instead. “How you thought the four of you could catch a hydra the size of this house,” she waved a hand at the Weasley homestead, “I’ll never figure out!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And then there was the time you set the Everfree Forest on fire. It took three days to put it out.”

They blushed, and Scootaloo said defensively, “It was an accident, we only wanted to get some honey!”

“And the bee swarm that infested the Town Hall the next week.”

“I didn’t know the queen bee followed me when I went to warn the Mayor about the fire!” Harry said apologetically.

“And then you decided to make fireworks because of all the charcoal created by the fire,” Applejack added, “and burned down mah barn! And then you decided that nitro-glycerine might be safer to make — and Twilight told me she is still finding pieces of the west orchard storehouse — and she’s in Ponyville.” Twilight was nodding her head. “Two thousand celestials away!”

“Celestials?” several of the incredulous listening wizards said.

“A thousand Celestials is about one of your miles,” Twilight explained.

Rarity turned back to the wizards. “And that was only one month at the beginning of last summer!”

Harry and girls looked embarrassed. Harry was just happy the mares hadn’t learned about some of their other exploits that summer.

The wizards looked amazed.

Despite the revelations about the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ rather unfortunate ventures, the Headmaster persisted. “Are you sure we can’t change your minds?”

Twilight and Rarity were both shaking their heads ‘no’ when Mr. Weasley spoke up. “Perhaps, Headmaster, you could arrange to put their house on the floo-network. That way they could come over here during the day while still returning home in the evenings?”

“An excellent suggestion, Arthur!” The Headmaster looked very pleased at that thought. “It would give your children,” he said to Twilight and Rarity, “a chance to acclimate to our world during the day while their parents are working, and let them enjoy family time in the evenings at home!”

Noticing Hermione’s dejected expression, Harry said, “Can you do the same for Hermione? It’s not fair, after all, if we get that and she doesn’t.”

Dumbledore studied the girl and her family, eyes twinkling. Then he glanced over to the Equestrians and saw their expressions. Ignoring the children, the adults were all nodding that that would be the fair thing to do.

He smiled and said, “Why, I think I might be able to convince the Minister to grant two exceptions for us.” Hermione squealed and started hopping in place. “I’ll send an owl as soon as I have appointments arranged.”

His eyes twinkled madly as he stood. “Well, I think I need to get on with my day. I have some appointments I cannot put off!”

He turned to Twilight. “Might I see your Teleportation Spell, Miss Sparkle? I think it might be of interest to the Ministry’s Department of Magical Transportation.”

“Certainly!” Twilight responded excitedly, standing as she grabbed her notes and hurried around the table. Mr. Weasley quickly stood beside the Headmaster and listened closely as she began her standard teleport lecture. It was shorter than the one Harry had endured, but was a quite bit longer than what she had told Hermione just a little while ago.

The children spent the rest of day flying. Scootaloo was a natural, of course. Harry was as well, although to a lesser degree — not surprising given the advantages Scootaloo’s pegasus heritage gave to her. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were much more reserved and unsure on the brooms even as they were thrilled at being able to fly like the pegasi. All the adult Equestrians took turns flying, as well.

Hermione kept letting others take her turn until she finally admitted, “I’m afraid of heights,” blushing. But with Ginny and the fillies insisting she agreed to keep practising.

To help reassure her, her mother said, “Honey, let me ride with you. I’m sure that will help.” Her father nodded his assent.

Hermione stared at her parents, then said, “You just want to fly on a broom, don’t you?” From their guilty looks Harry figured her guess was right on the money.

Still, she did seem to be a bit more relaxed with one of her parents riding as a passenger with her.

The twins, with Ron’s exuberant help, told the Equestrians about Quidditch, which boiled down to:

“It’s rather simple game with a ridiculous number of rules.”

“There are seven people on each team.”

“A goal Keeper to protect the three rings,” Ron pointed at the makeshift Quidditch pitch the Weasleys had built.

“Three Chasers who try to throw this ball, the Quaffle, through one of the hoops for ten points.”

“Two Beaters who hit these balls, Bludgers, and try to knock the other team’s players off their brooms while protecting their own teammates.”

“And the Seeker, whose job is to catch the Snitch, which ends the game and gives his team one hundred and fifty points.”

“The Snitch is devilishly difficult to catch. It sometimes hides where it can’t be seen and you have to wait for it to come out.”

“That means both teams’ Chasers try to get a one hundred and fifty point lead over the other team, thus preventing the other team from winning even if they do catch the Snitch!”

The Weasley’s then put on a sample match, after dragging Percy out of his room and arguing whether their sister could fly a broom and play.

Deciding which broom to get was easy — “The Nimbus 2000 is the best broomstick on the market,” said Mr. Kneen, the salesman and proprietor of the Broom Shop. He was a moustached, blonde-haired wizard with blue eyes and wearing matching blue robes. “It’s loaded with the latest in safety features and can out-fly anything on the market today.” He smiled proudly. “I just got them in last week!”

Even though it was late in the afternoon, it was crowded in the shop. Of course, their group did make up most of the customers — all ten of the Equestrians, the three Grangers, and four of the Weasley children with Arthur as escort. Still, there were several other children and adults admiring the various brooms on display. Not to mention those spectators outside drooling over the newest professional-grade broomstick on the market.

Ginny was wandering around the shop with Ron, both obviously dreaming of owning a new broom but seeming to know it was never going to happen. The twins were studying the Nimbus carefully, probably, Harry thought, trying to determine if they could add any of its speciality spells to their brooms at home.

The fillies and Harry were looking around attentively, but keeping close watch on Rarity and Twilight. Dash was excitedly jumping from one display to another, reading with wide eyes the various features each model sported. Fluttershy hid behind Applejack, while Pinkie Pie occasionally peeked at them from behind a display or the back-room of the shop.

Rarity nodded and looked at the fillies and Harry speculatively. She slowly turned in place, briefly looking at the other brooms on display, as well as how the other customers were all casting envious eyes on the Nimbus in the window and the one currently on the counter.

“Each straw in every Nimbus 2000 is individually inspected and spelled to perfection before being bound to the other straws destined for that broom. Each straw is magically balanced against its neighbours to provide the best performance possible,” the shop’s owner continued. “Protection, safety, and comfort runes are carved in the broomstick handle in triple redundancy, so that should one set be damaged or worn down through heavy use, the broomstick will retain all its capabilities without any degradation in performance.”

Rarity looked at Sweetie Belle who was nodding eagerly. “Excellent,” Rarity said, “we’ll take eleven.”

Rainbow Dash, the fillies, and Harry, all high-fived each other. Practically everyone else in the store, including the owner, had their jaws dropped down. Harry snickered. If they had been on Equestria, he knew, their jaws would literally have been on the ground. Here, it wasn’t as dramatic, but it was equally funny.

“E-eleven?” stuttered Mr. Kneen

“Yes. You do have sufficient stock on hand, don’t you?”

That snapped the wizard out of his stunned state. “Oh, yes, I do have those in stock. Let me get them for you. I’ll be right back.” He hurried off into the back of the shop. Pinkie Pie stepped out to hand him the eleven boxes she was somehow managing to carry.

The decision finally made, Twilight immediately moved over to the magazine and book display beside the counter.

“ ’Cor,” said Ron. “Eleven Nimbus 2000s?”

“Stunning . . .”

“. . . absolutely stunning,” said the twins.

“You’re getting one for each of you?” asked Arthur, still taken aback at the thought of anyone buying that many terribly expensive brooms.

“Oh, no,” said Rarity. “One is for Dash and four are for the fillies and Harry. The rest are for your children and Hermione.”

“Oh, no,” objected Mr. Weasley, “We can’t accept that! Those brooms are far too expensive. The Weasleys do not accept charity.” He was shaking his head emphatically no. The Weasley children looked torn between desperately wanting the brooms, and rejecting what they saw as a handout.

“That’s right,” put in Mr. Granger. “You’ve already spent far too much on Hermione when you gave her the wand and that trunk.”

Looking at Grangers — Hermione was still staring wide-eyed at the broom in the window — Rarity said, “Now, you know that’s not true! If Twilight hadn’t given Hermione those wand materials, she would simply have thrown them away,” she mimed tossing something over her shoulder, “when we got back home. Twilight is much happier knowing they are of use to someone, instead. And, as I told you, the five children’s trunks were free after the discount for buying seventeen of the deluxe trunks.”

Mr. Weasley and the twins staggered at the thought of anyone buying seventeen deluxe trunks. Just buying Ron’s student trunk, used, had considerably set back their finances! Just how rich were these foreigners?

“And how can free be considered spending money buying something expensive?” Rarity asked, arching an eyebrow inquiringly. “And as for the broomstick, it wouldn’t be fair for Hermione to play that quidditch game with the others on a clearly inferior broom, now would it?” She smirked, “Besides, I’m sure the bulk discount we’ll get for these broomsticks will easily offset the price for Hermione’s. If it makes you feel better, if the discount doesn’t cover the full cost of her broomstick, then you can pay us back the difference later.”

She turned back to the wizard. “And, as for you, Mr. Weasley,” she said in that frosty dictatorial tone matrons used when reprimanding children, “you clearly do not know the difference between charity and a gift from a friend! Charity is when you receive something you need but lack the wherewithal to acquire on your own. For example, if I were to purchase and give to your daughter the books she needs for attending Hogwarts, and you were unable to afford them yourselves, then that would be a charity.

“These brooms, however, are a gift, from one friend to another. They are a thank you for your selfless offer to let the fillies and Harry impose upon your generosity to use your farm and your hospitality to practice magic and fly on their brooms every day for the next month until school starts! Especially considering that they wouldn’t be able to either of those things in Little Whinging.

“Besides, it wouldn’t be fair for the fillies and Harry to play against your children in quidditch with brooms that clearly outclass the brooms you already have. To do that would engender jealousy, envy, and resentment on your children’s part over their old brooms, and embarrassment, shame, and anxiety on the part of the fillies and Harry for upstaging their new friends. And there is no way we will allow such disharmony to come into play between your family and us.

“Also,” she smiled at the twins, “I overheard the twins saying that they would be happy to take the new brooms to school for the fillies and Harry so that they can fly their new brooms at school all year. How can we not return such generosity?”

She smirked. “On the other hoof, we could say that these are all belated birthday gifts to your children.

“And, finally, these are not my gifts, they are the fillies and Harry’s gifts.”

The Weasleys and Grangers, and most of the rest of the customers in the store who had drifted over to listen, all stared at Rarity as if she were barking mad. Then they looked at the three girls surrounding Harry, all of whom were blushing.

Harry could see that Mr. Kneen had remained back by the back-room door to his shop. There was no way he was going to step into an argument between friends when it could mean losing the largest single sale of broomsticks he probably would ever have. And especially not when it concerned a high-end product like the Nimbus!

“It’s their bits to do with as they desire. They’re the ones who spent their Friday afternoon digging in the dirt,” she shuddered delicately, “to find a few gems to trade to the Goblins for spending bits.”

“And they have enough to afford all those broomsticks?” Mr. Weasley asked incredulously.

“They most certainly do,” Rarity said proudly. “The Goblin, Knifethrower, I think his name was, said they are now Gringotts’ tenth largest depositor!” She glanced at Twilight, a playful smile touching her lips, “Although the Princesses’ briefcase of gems might beat them. We’re still waiting for the Goblins’ assessment.”

Everyone in the shop was staring at the Equestrians.

“And they weren’t nearly as impressed with the gems we gave them,” Twilight grumbled good-naturedly, looking up from adding yet another book to the pile she was carrying.

Mr. Kneen finally started back to his front counter with a dozen small boxes in hand. “I took the liberty of shrinking the packages to make them more convenient for you carry,” he said placing them on his counter.

“Oh, thank you,” said Rarity, “That’s very thoughtful of you. What sort of discount do we get for buying in bulk?”

The wizard blinked, taken aback at the request. He looked at the boxes on his counter and pursed his lips. He was clearly mulling over if he wanted to chance angering this very rich customer.

“Oh, we’ll also need a eleven of those Deluxe Broom Maintenance Kits I see over there,” she said, pointing. “And, Twilight,” she continued, looking at the transformed mare who already had an armful of books, “perhaps we should take one each of those books and magazines. I don’t recall seeing any of those books in the bookstore.”

The owner took a look at the books the other woman was rapidly piling on the counter, glanced at his stock of broom maintenance kits, smiled, and said, “I believe a nine percent discount would be fair, don’t you?” He looked at Rarity brightly.

After paying for everything, Sweetie Belle started loading her rucksack with the shrunken brooms while Twilight started loading the books into her purse as Mr. Kneen shrank them. The magazines were relegated to Scootaloo’s rucksack as they figured the children would want to look through those first.

After that, picking up the finished trunks was easy and took only a few minutes.

Truckle had made four stacks of their trunks. One stack of three dwarfed the others in width and length and were black instead of the neutral brown that the rest were coloured. “These three are the triple-sized trunks you wanted,” he explained. Princesses Celestia and Luna would have no difficulty fitting onto the elevators of those trunks, nor using the interior facilities.

That a blood sample was required for the security system to lock a trunk to a particular person was a surprise. There squares of cloth over the centre plate on the front, Rainbow Dash discovered, were to prevent someone from accidentally giving a blood sample. Just touching the bronze plate was enough to secure the needed sample, as Dash’s surprised and indignant, “It bit me!” demonstrated when she unwisely flicked the cloth aside to see what was hidden there. The others quickly claimed a trunk for their own to forestall errors.

“Now, then,” said Mr. Truckle, “Just press and twist this emblem here,” he pointed to an owl beside the left latch, then pressed it firmly while twisting clockwise, “to shrink the trunk to pocket size.” He bent over and picked it up. “It automatically engages a featherweight charm.” He tossed it up and down in one hand. The emblem now took up the front of the card-deck-sized trunk. “To restore it, do the same thing.” He bent down and placed it on the floor, “But put it down first.” He demonstrated enlarging the trunk. “Otherwise you’ll drop it when its normal weight returns and hurt someone or break something when it falls to floor — nothing inside, just things outside might not like having a trunk dropped on them.” He laughed nervously.

“You can engage the featherweight charm while leaving the trunk at full size by pressing and sliding the owl, like this.” He again demonstrated, and then lifted the trunk with two fingers through the carrying strap.

“There are special security features, and other charms you can use to personalize the trunk to your needs, including its outside colour scheme, and allowing others access. There’s a manual on the kitchen counter.” He smiled happily at them. “The Deluxe trunks are all linked via an internal-only Floo-network. You can hook it up to the Ministry’s Floo-network, but then your network is subject to their inspection and oversight, including shutting it off completely. The manual has more details.” He smiled at them happily. “I included inside each trunk a small quantity of Floo-powder in the carved basin on the right-side of the fireplace to get you started.

“And is there anything else I can help you with?”

They shook their heads and started putting the shrunken trunks into Harry’s rucksack.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Mr. Truckle pulled a box up from behind his counter. “Here are five complimentary book-bags for you. They’re rune-charmed with a featherweight charm, an undetectable expansion charm, and an impervious charm to keep them in pristine condition as long as you use them. You can use a simple colour-changing charm to make them match your House colours.”

He pulled the five out of the box and handed them to Harry. “And there’s a special pocket on the inside of the flap, here,” he pointed to a buttoned opening about the size of his hand. “Where you can store your shrunken trunk while traveling without having to worry about the undetectable expansion charm in the bag interfering with the charms in the trunks — remember, it’s a very bad idea to put something that has a larger undetectable expansion charm in it inside an item with a smaller undetectable expansion charm.” He shook his head. “Very bad,” he emphasized.

That the Weasleys were watching enviously was an understatement. Harry decided that if they were still friends come Christmas, he would purchase books-bags like these for them. In the meantime, he could see Hermione was already calculating how many books she could stuff inside her book-bag.

Back at The Burrow, Harry had an idea. “Hay,” he said to the girls. “Why don’t we leave one of the deluxe trunks here and have Hermione take one to her house. Then we don’t have to wait for the old geezer to set up that floo-network. We can just use the network built into the trunks!”

That met with unanimous approval among the fillies. And took only a few moments for them to set up. They left Scootaloo’s trunk in the Weasley sitting-room because of all the traffic it would see, and Hermione promised she would set up Apple Bloom’s in her room. And this way, when Harry flew out of the floo in the trunks, there wouldn’t be anypony else around to see his humiliation at not mastering that particular method of transport. And they could put cushions out so he didn’t get hurt.

On the other hand, Mrs. Weasley was clearly less than pleased at the broomsticks Rarity had talked Mr. Weasley into accepting. However, she couldn’t refuse what he had already accepted, so she gave them all a thin smile and told them it was fine with her. Her words didn’t quite match her expression, though. Harry was sure there would be words spoken on that issue in the privacy of their bedroom that night.

To say that the Weasley children were thrilled with their new brooms was an understatement. Harry was pretty sure the twins weren’t exaggerating when they told him, the next day, that Ron was sleeping with his broom. He wasn’t so sure that they weren’t doing the same with their brooms, too.

The Equestrians had a late dinner at Magnolia Road, and Twilight told them of her plans to see that the trunks were delivered to her parents and the Princesses the next day. Pinkie Pie and Applejack would be making arrangements to send their relatives their extra trunks. Applejack planned a long letter while Pinkie said, “I’ll just wait until it arrives at home, then pop out and tell them all about it!”

After Twilight and the others left after breakfast the next day, Harry, the fillies, and Rainbow Dash hopped into Harry’s trunk and used its floo access to get to the Weasleys. Hermione had apparently arrived only a few minutes before them and was already telling the Weasley clan, “I read our Magical Theory textbook last night and it is soo interesting!”

She was wearing her wizarding book-bag and Harry was positive it had everything her parents had purchased yesterday in it, except, maybe, the clothes.

There were several new wizards and witches at the Weasley house, as well. The twins, it seemed, had notified their quidditch teammates about their new brooms.

The twins introduced Harry and the four girls to the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team: Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. All of whom were shocked to hear that the Weasleys were now the proud owners Nimbus 2000’s.

Once outside, Hermione made herself at home at the table while the others hauled out their brooms and took to the sky.

And while Scootaloo was reluctant to relinquish her broom, Harry, Hermione, and the other two fillies were happy to let the team practice with their Nimbus 2000 brooms. For Harry and the two fillies, the older brooms the Weasleys had were more than sufficient for them to learn to fly. They would save the high-powered brooms for when they were more comfortable with broom-flying.

Watching Scootaloo fly on her broom reduced the entire team to awe-struck shock, with Oliver doing his best to convince the transformed pegasus to become the team’s Seeker at school. Especially when he discovered she could spot the Snitch faster than anyone he had ever seen — even at the professional matches. Harry figured it must be that her hawk-like pegasus eye-sight carried over to her human form.

Lunch was an informal outside affair with Mrs. Weasley — “Just call me Molly,” she insisted to her guests. It was simple, just cheese and biscuits, Harry was pleased to see. The Equestrians had brought their own jam sandwiches and were more than happy to cut them in half and trade.

“So,” Angelina Johnson said, “Fred tells me that you’re actually from another country.” She looked at the three girls. “Where might that be?”

“We’re from a place called Ponyville,” Harry cut in. “We were very surprised that an owl was able to find me there.”

“Really?” Angelina said, lifting her eyebrows inquiringly.

“Yep,” said Scootaloo.

“And George mentioned something about there not being any muggles there?” Angelina said curiously. “I’m a half-blood, my father is a muggle.”

“Nope. Never even heard the word before we came here,” said Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom nodding her head beside her.

“Soo, that would make you all purebloods, right?” said Angelina.

“I guess,” said Sweetie Belle, shrugging. “Never really thought about it.”

Frowning in thought, Angelina said, “Have there never been any muggles in your homeland?”

Sweetie Belle frowned back, “Not that I know of. At least not since our . . . um . . . homeland was founded two and a half thousand years ago.”

“HMM!” said Apple Bloom with a mouthful of sandwich. She swallowed. “Granny Smith told me the Apples can trace the family all the way back to Paradise Valley, and that’s at least three thousand years ago, maybe four. And both the pegasus and unicorn tribes were there, too.

Scootaloo scowled thoughtfully. “The only one who would know for a fact is Discord.”

All three Equestrians shuddered. “Ain’t asking Discord for nothin’!” declared Apple Bloom. “AJ says puttin’ Discord together with the word truthful is an oxymoron.”

Harry shivered. “I met Discord when Twilight took me to visit Fluttershy and he scares me. He was nice enough, but I just got the feeling he was about to do something and I wasn’t going to like it.” The others nodded, agreeing.

“Discord is just too unpredictable,” said Sweetie Belle. “The less said about him, the better,” she said firmly to the witches and wizards.

From behind the three Equestrians and Harry came a deep voice, “Did I hear someone call my name?”

33 — Sometimes You Get What You Need

Despite what the twins later claimed, Harry was positive he did not scream like a little girl when he heard the God of Chaos speak behind him. His first thought, he was very willing to admit, was to dive under the table. Instead he stood and stepped partially behind Sweetie Belle’s chair. This put him between Sweetie Belle and the odd man standing in the flower garden.

He was tall and thin, but not too thin. Likewise, his lightly-tanned face was taller than it was wide, with slightly-bushy black hair on top of his head shading to brown at the sides to almost white-blonde at the ends. His eyes were heterochromatic — one sky-blue and the other black. His right hand had a yellow cast and his left was brown. The rest of his clothes hid his body, but Harry had no doubt that he had colours of a variety of humans hidden underneath.

His formfitting, waist-length, long-sleeve shirt was a red against black colour. The red was a panel on the front that reached from the armpits mid-way to the waist — the bottom of the red panel was a wide and shallow upside-down off-centre ‘v’ shape instead of being level. Connecting to the red panel were wide red strips that ran down the fronts of the sleeves. Over his heart was small golden oval with a vertical, asymmetrical arrowhead-shape imposed over it. There were four silver dots on the collar on the right side. He wore black pants.

And he was smirking at everyone’s reaction.

He was, without a doubt to all who knew him, Discord. And Harry knew he had to be very extremely cautious about what he said, and did, around the unpredictable God of Chaos. Fluttershy claimed he was truly reformed, but . . . as the saying went, once burnt, twice as shy.

Harry floated his plate over towards the man. “We were just having lunch,” he said as calmly as he could while trying to hide his shaky voice, “would you like a strawberry jam sandwich?”

Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom stared at the unexpected visitor in horror. The others looked on curiously.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Discord replied. He pulled the plate from Harry’s magic and took a big bite of the plate and sandwich.

The witches and wizards stared, eyes wide and jaws dropped open in shock. Everyone could clearly hear the sounds of the strange creature actually eating the ceramic plate. He swallowed.

“Thank you, Harry!” Discord said, “I was feeling a bit peckish.” He dropped the plate, which turned into lazily-flying rainbow-coloured butterflies before it could hit the ground. “I don’t want to eat too much, I am having tea with Fluttershy in an hour. And she makes such lovely biscuits.”

“Oh,” Harry said, trying to keep the conversation going and in neutral territory. “Allow me to introduce our hosts.”

He pointed at the twins, “These two gentlemen are George and Fred Weasley.”

The one he had called George said, “I’m Fred.”

The other said, “I’m George.”

Discord’s eyes twinkled. “Pranksters, I see.” He looked up at the house behind them, and his smile broadened as he took in the oddly shaped and haphazardly put together building. “Oh, yes,” he said, “I’m going to like this place.” His smile creepily stretched from ear to ear, “There’s even a ghoul in the attic.” He turned back to Harry. “I see you’ve returned home.” He looked around. “So much chaos, I don’t even have to do anything.”

Harry nodded slightly, but continued on gamely, “This is Percy, their older brother, Ron, their little brother, and this is their little sister, Ginny.”

Discord murmured, still smiling, “Ah, yes, the seventh child and first female in seven generations. And quite a crush she has on you, Harry.”

Ginny squeaked and her face turned almost as red as her hair. She ducked down below the table.

Harry glanced nervously back at the God of Chaos. “This is Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. They play on the Hogwarts’ Gryffindor Quidditch team along with George and Fred.”

He paused as the man looked over the three briefly. “Oh, my, you are all quite a treat, I must say.”

The three glanced at each other uneasily, unsure of what he was seeing in them.

“And this is Hermione Granger,” Harry said, indicating the girl gaping at Discord.

The kitchen door popped open and Molly bustled out, “Oh, my! Boys, why didn’t you tell me we had company?” She hurried over, looking at the odd man in her back garden. She held her wand discretely at her side.

“And this must be the lady of the house?” Discord said as looked down at Harry.

“Ah, yes,” Harry said, still trying to act like everything was perfectly fine. “This is Mrs. Weasley,” he said as she came to halt on the other side of the table. “Mrs. Weasley, this is Discord.”

Discord tipped his top hat — it hadn’t been there a moment ago — and said, “A pleasure to meet you, Molly.” The hat disappeared again as soon as he put it back on.

Mrs. Weasley stared at the strange man, a slight frown on her face. She bobbed her head uncertainly in response, murmuring, “Hello.”

Harry glanced at the wizards and witches, hoping he could impress upon them just how dangerous Discord was, before explaining to Discord, “We were talking about purebloods and muggles, and that there have never been muggles at home. Apple Bloom mentioned she could trace her family all the way back to Paradise Valley, three or four thousand years ago. Sweetie Belle mentioned that you were probably the only one who knew for sure when the Earth tribe first developed magic.”

Discord preened under the attention. A snap of his fingers and a blackboard appeared beside him while his clothes changed to look like the robes Professor McGonagall had worn on Tuesday. He was also holding a long pointer stick, which he used to smack the board. The board had a chalk outline of some ponies and a few trees in the background.

“Why, yes, that is true, I suppose. After all I was there when the first Apple — he was barely out of foal-hood, you know — planted his first seed and started it growing.” The blackboard displayed an animation of a pony — who looked suspiciously like Big Mac, Harry thought — doing just that. “Of course, they had magic well before then, just that this was the very first time anyone tried to directly use their magic to grow food.” The God of Chaos smiled toothily at Apple Bloom, who looked terrified that Discord was talking to her and intrigued at what he was saying.

“It was such a joy to watch him and his family run around in a panic when the seed turned into a tiny tree a few seconds later.” The blackboard animation continued. “It took him two days before he returned and planted a second seed to see if it would happen a second time — it did.” He laughed heartily.

Discord leaned closer to Apple Bloom who tried to lean away. “I might have helped the trees grow a tiny bit faster,” he stage-whispered to her. Straightening, he continued in a normal voice. “That was about six thousand years ago, give or take a few hundred.” He smiled at Apple Bloom, “And the Apples have been growing apples ever since then. Except for that short period when I changed all the apples into oranges. And that other time when I made them all pears.” He shook his head, grinning. “Ah, good times, good times! Such chaos!” He sighed happily. The blackboard showed ponies panicking and running around an orchard checking each tree and finding only oranges. “Your Ol’ Granddad is a seedling from that first tree, you know,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper to Apple Bloom.

The wizards and witches were watching and listening with amazed expressions. One of the twins blurted out, “Why is that. . .” he pointed at the blackboard,

“. . . showing horses?” finished his brother.

“Ponies, my boys, ponies,” Discord reprimanded.

Harry and the fillies stiffened. Discord was about to reveal their secret.

“Or would you prefer Llamas?” The chalkboard figures abruptly all looked like Peruvian pack animals. He stared at it a moment, then said, “I could always use Woolly Mammoths, I suppose.” The figures changed again. “Or, perhaps, yaks.” And changed once more.

“Nah,” he said dismissively, “Yaks are too prissy, I prefer ponies. They are so much more fun. They panic so easily, and do such amazing things.”

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Weasley said to Discord, “Are you saying that these children are really . . . ponies?” Her expression and body language, hands on hips, clearly indicated her disbelief.

Harry groaned, and desperately said, “Fluttershy!”

Discord’s wide grin dimmed slightly, then returned. He suddenly was dressed as a blue Genie, with a turban and a muscular upper-body that dwindled into a thin stream of smoke coming from a traditional brass oil lamp beneath him. “Your wish is my command,” he intoned in an ominous tone, staring at the older witch. He snapped his fingers, and Apple Bloom disappeared. A second later, a yellow earth-filly with a red mane and tail floated up from behind the table. Her pink bow, formerly merely large, now looked huge. Harry sighed and slumped a little.

“I think she looks quite cute as a pony, don’t you? She has that strong, silent farmer vibe to her, doesn’t she?”

Apple Bloom glared at Discord over her crossed her forelegs. “AJ is gonna be so mad at you.”

“Nah,” he said, “She won’t mind at all, I’m sure.”

A neon sign decorated with flames appeared behind him. It was flashing “Liar! Liar! Pants on Fire!” It even had an arrow pointed at him.

There was a moment of silence, then both Chasers squealed. Alicia was the closest and managed to snatch Apple Bloom out of the air, “She’s adorable!” She spun on her feet as she hugged the startled filly. Apple Bloom almost disappeared between the two girls.

Scootaloo, whom many at home considered wildly reckless, wasn’t completely without survival instincts. She was already halfway across the garden when Discord snapped his fingers a second time and an orange pegasus-filly with a purple mane skidded to a halt in mid-air and floated back to them, dropping onto the table. Pouting angrily, she said, “Rainbow Dash is not gonna like you doing this to me!”

“And Scootaloo just loves flying, so what pony would be better for her than a pegasus?” crowed the unpredictable being.

He turned to her and grinned. “I doubt it,” he said to her. This time no sign appeared. “She will, at worst, be conflicted.” Scootaloo and Harry stared at him, puzzled.

Oliver and the twins watched closely. The three older boys had already had their creatures-class and seen pictures of the Abraxan flying horses. Frowning, one twin said, “Aren’t her wings too small for her size?”

“And they both certainly have unusual colours for horses.” said the other.

Was this strange man trying to trick them? They looked at him sceptically.

“Ponies, my boys, ponies, not horses.” Discord repeated irritably. Harry gave the twins a wide-eyed panicked look and drew his hand across his throat several times. He hoped they’d get the message to not piss-off the Chaos God.

“Hmm. . . ,” Discord said, casting a critical eye, with a magnifying glass, on the filly. They spun around her and then slowly floated back to him. “Perhaps you’re right.” He murmured softly, then grinned madly and snapped his fingers. “There,” he said smugly.

Scootaloo gave a startled squawk that sent the Weasley family’s chickens racing for their coop. She swung her head violently from side to side to stare at her now enlarged wings. Compared to the pegasi in her class back in Ponyville, her wings were easily larger than the biggest of them, she realized. Almost as big as Dash’s. She gasped.

Discord dropped her to the ground. “Well?” he said. “Aren’t you going to show them your pony-wings work?” He waggled his eyebrows.

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then slowly flapped her wings and lifted herself off the ground. Her expression changed from one of surprise to wonder, then to delight, and then to absolute joy. “YES!” she screamed as she took off into the orchard, leaving an orange and purple trail behind her as she barrel-rolled past the trees.

Harry glared hopelessly at Discord. All of the Princesses’ careful planning and subterfuge was for nothing. “You’re not helping us, Discord,” he hissed as the being turned to look for Sweetie Belle.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” said Discord, smiling as he looked at boy, “How many times has Applejack told you that lying is bad?”

Harry opened his mouth to say that this was different, this was a secret they needed to keep for their safety.

Discord continued before Harry could say a word. “And what would Pinkie Pie say about lying to your friends.”

Harry’s mouth snapped shut.

He stared at Harry and raised one eyebrow while smirking. He leaned close and whispered, “Tell the truth. Just tell it in a way that makes them think what you want them to think.”

Harry frowned in thought, then slowly nodded. He looked around. Fortunately, no one else seemed to have heard their conversation.

Ginny, peeking around the corner of the table, quietly mumbled something, barely above a whisper. But Discord seemed to pick out every word she had said, anyway, although no one else heard more than a murmur.

“Why, certainly, my dear,” he said with a smile and a snap of a finger.

In Ginny’s place stood a small filly with a gold splotched dark-green coat and Weasley-red mane and tail. She was so small her back was well below her mother’s knees.

She frowned and shook herself, then slowly looked herself over. A wide smile gradually filled her face. She spread her wings and gave them a tentative flap. Then another.

Discord snapped his fingers and Scootaloo appeared floating beside him, her wings held flat. Momentarily startled at her abrupt dislocation, she jerked her head around trying to figure out where she was. She crossed her forelegs, and, sitting in mid-air, glared at Discord, pouting.

Ignoring her reaction, he pointed at the ponified Ginny. “Perhaps you should show your friend, Ginny, how to use her wings?”

Scootaloo spun in place and stared at the new pegasus. Instead of complaining about her sudden change of location, Scootaloo darted over to Ginny who was still slowly flapping her wings. “What are you waiting for?” she said, “Flap harder and follow me!” Scootaloo started climbing higher.

Hesitantly, Ginny followed her, Scootaloo calling instructions. Soon, both were moving quickly into the orchard.

Just as the two were about to disappear, Mrs. Weasley finally found her voice and yelled, “Ginny, come back here!”

The two hesitated a moment, but then continued.

“GINNY!” Mrs. Weasley bellowed, and started to stalk after them.

“If you hurry,” Discord said slyly, “you can still catch her.” He snapped his fingers, “You’d better fly or she’ll get away,” he goaded. A furious Molly Weasley, now a larger version of her daughter, took off after the errant girls.

Oliver, Ron, and the twins, stared as the irate mother banked into a sharp turn as she dodged an apple tree and disappeared into the orchard, bellowing her daughter’s name. Which, if Harry knew kids, would only stir them to greater efforts in evading said parent for just a little bit longer. It was certainly what pegasi foals did back in Ponyville!

“ ’Cor,” Ron breathed out.

“Blimey. . . ,” said George. Harry knew it was George because a sign hovering over his head said so.

“Look at her go.” said Fred.

The sign vanished just as Fred turned to look at his brother.

“What about Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle?” asked George.

“What would they be?” finished his twin.

“Why, they prefer thinking over brawn, so . . . then it better be . . . ,” Discord snickered and snapped his fingers.

Harry suddenly was his unicorn self.

“Unicorns!”

A muffled, “Horsefeathers!” coming from a nearby bush revealed where Sweetie Belle was hidden.

He grinned broadly as Harry glared at him. Then the chaos god guffawed. “I know,” he said, “let’s see what you all are!” He snapped his fingers yet again.

Oliver turned into a young pegasus stallion. Percy and Ron turned into earth ponies, a young stallion and colt, respectively. The twins became unicorns, young stallions, of course. The two girls currently cuddling Apple Bloom became pegasi mares.

Apple Bloom landed on her hooves with a startled, “WHOA!” while the former witches stared at each other in surprise from their new vantage point closer to the ground. They twitched and stretched their wings and swished tails as they examined each other.

Looking at Oliver, Discord said enticingly, “Imagine playing Quidditch like this!” and lifted an eyebrow.

Oliver gasped, stepped back as his wings shot out, and then he shouted, “YES!”

The girls looked over at him.

The twins looked at each other, then at Discord. “But we can’t ride. . .” Fred said, a sign labelling him hovering over his head.

“. . . a broom like this,” George finished, not looking at his brother, and instead looking cross-eyed at his horn.

“Quite a quandary for a fine pair of unicorns like yourselves,” Discord said. A light bulb lit up over his head.

He suddenly was dressed like a Yankee carnival barker — red-and-white striped jacket, white trousers, and straw hat — and standing on a small stage. Behind him a large curtain hung, decorated with flying pegasi and the headline “Fly Like A Bird!”

“A special limited one-time offer,” he shouted, “Today only! Don’t dawdle, step right up for the experience of a lifetime!” He snapped his fingers and they all turned into pegasi, even Apple Bloom, Harry, and Sweetie Belle.

A second snap of his fingers and the missing three appeared. They settled to the ground as Mrs. Weasley glared at her daughter.

“You are all pegasi until sundown today!” declared the God of Chaos. “Go! Play Quidditch!” And he burst out laughing. Oliver and the rest of the Quidditch team needed no further encouragement and took off towards the Weasley Quidditch field at high speed. Ginny, hearing Quidditch, was hard on the heels of her brothers — this time there would be no arguments about whether she knew how to fly a broom or not! Scootaloo followed closely.

Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Harry were almost as eager. After flying on brooms for hours, the novelty of actually having wings was impossible to ignore. However, Hermione’s hesitation made them pause as well. It took only a few minutes to coax the reluctant girl into the air as she flew under her own power. They knew that a few crashes where she emerged unharmed, except for a bruised ego, and she’d be over her flying fears.

Discord held Mrs. Weasley back. Her face turned red with futile effort as she strained to chase down her disobedient children. She franticly wanted to give them a good talking to.

The God of Chaos crooned softly, “Come, my dear, surely you have had dreams of flying as free as a bird, with nothing beneath your wings but the air.” Molly’s struggles slowed as she listened. “Your flock is safe and having fun. Pegasi are remarkably hardy. They shrug off falls and collisions that would instantly kill a witch or wizard. They ignore such accidents the way you shrug off bumping your hip on a table.” She stopped to look up at the odd wizard. He smiled enticingly. “Have a little fun. You deserve a reward for all your hard work for this family,” he added persuasively. “Take a little time for yourself. Be the little girl you used to be all those years ago, before the war, just for a little while.” He petted her head kindly. “Enjoy yourself for a few hours. When you want to return to normal, just walk into your kitchen and you’ll be back to your,” he stopped and sighed dispiritedly, “boring bipedal self. In the meantime, flap your wings and have a little fun.”

She looked at her wings, as if only now noticing she had them. She flapped them a few times and felt herself lift up into the air.

Discord stepped back and motioned she should follow the sounds of her happy children. He raised his eyebrows and said, “Go on, have fun with your children! Soon, they’ll be gone to school and you won’t have the chance.”

Smiling, she slowly floated up into the air and stared at him. Then she darted off towards the Quidditch field. Her children were startled to hear her laughing as she caught up to them.

Discord watched her go. “Heh,” he said. “That’s a nice bit of chaos in everyone’s plans.” He slipped a monkey-wrench into his pocket. “And no pony can say I hurt a single one of them!” His grin widened. “And they aren't such spoilsports as Picard and Riker.” He paused. “Hmm. Picard and Riker as pegasi . . . that has possibilities!” His smile grew much wider. “And Worf as a cute and adorable Earth Pony. Yes. I like this idea!” He began to laugh.

A loud fire-alarm bell rang out. He looked at the oversized hourglass on his wrist. “Oh, no! I’m late!” He disappeared in a brilliant flash of light.

Mr. Weasley stepped out of the floo at The Burrow. He looked around at the silent and dark room, with a puzzled frown. The Burrow was never silent if any Weasley was home. There were no strange smells wafting down the stairs from the twins’ room. There weren’t the bustling sounds, nor the wonderful smells, of his beloved wife preparing dinner. Even the ghoul in the attic was silent.

He gripped his wand tightly and took a slow step towards the kitchen, head swivelling cautiously. He had never come home after work to find an empty and silent house. Something had to be wrong.

The kitchen, too, was empty. But it looked as if Molly had just finished fixing lunch. He looked out the back door to see the table outside still had the remains of lunch on it — half-eaten sandwiches and glasses of water and milk were scattered across the table.

Forgotten reflexes from ten years ago resurfaced and he slowly eased the back door open. His back pressed against the house, he listened carefully. He could hear voices coming from the field the boys used to play Quidditch.

Moving carefully, he made his way through the orchard to the field. The sounds of laughing and happy yelling slowly becoming clearer and helping him relax. There were no screams of terror or pain. It wasn’t as terrible as his imagination had feared.

He stopped at the edge of the field and just stared. There were a dozen flying horses playing Quidditch. A dozen flying horses that were every colour in the rainbow. Colours he had never seen on any horse, anywhere. Not to mention the combinations between manes and coats.

They were moving so fast he could barely keep his eyes on them as they fought over the quaffle. He was just noticing that most of the flying horses, pegasi, had bright red manes and tails when the tiniest of them yelled, “DAD!” and hovered, waving frantically with one hoof.

He had walked out onto the field without noticing. A large Pegasus with a light red coat and dark red mane and tail flew over to him — well, large in comparison to the others. In comparison to him, its head would have barely reached to his stomach. It hovered in front of him, blushing furiously, “I’m sorry dear, I didn’t notice the time. We were having so much fun!” She rubbed her forelegs together nervously.

“Molly?!” He stared at the creature. He slowly picked out her features. His Molly was a flying horse?

His Molly was a flying horse.

“Come on,” she said, hooking one foreleg around his arm and tugging him, “I’ll explain as we walk back.” She snickered. “Well, you’ll walk, I’ll fly.” She suddenly turned to face other pegasi — the red-maned ones, he realized, must be his children — “Dinner in half an hour!” she bellowed.

“Well,” she said as they started back, he walked and she floated beside him at head-height. “It all started when this very odd wizard appeared in our back garden while the kids were having lunch . . . .”

Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash were not pleased with Harry and the fillies that night as they filled the adults in on what had happened that afternoon. Fortunately for Discord, it seemed that the wizards and witches at the Weasleys’ that afternoon all thought that Discord had been pranking them. Harry’s frantic explanations of the God of Chaos’ prank-loving nature, as well as his examples of the things he had personally seen, corroborated by the fillies, had been sufficient for the day. Their secret of coming from another reality was still safe, for the time being.

And their friends wouldn’t be nearly as surprised at their being ponies when the truth finally did come out.

Which was the only reason that Twilight didn’t immediately storm over to the Weasleys’ home and say, “We told you the Cutie Mark Crusaders were a handful! That you have to keep an eye on them at all times. There’s a reason po . . . people run for cover when those four announce they’re on a project!” And explain, in detail, why attracting the attention of a reality-warping being was a very, very bad idea.

On the other hoof, both Twilight and Applejack were thrilled to hear a bit of ancient history that had heretofore been unknown. “I think I’m going to have a long discussion with Discord at his next tea with Fluttershy,” she stated.

Rainbow Dash had been more interested in hearing about this Quidditich game. She had ignored the flying antics those strange apes, being far more interested in flying her broom the previous day. The fillies and Harry spent the rest of the evening enthusiastically describing how they had played the game.

34 — Unfettered, At Last

It took two days for the Department of Magical Transportation to show up at Magnolia Road. And another three days before they showed up at the Grangers. The kids didn’t care, they were using the floo connections in the trunks. They were able to get in as much flying, and, in Hermione’s case, studying with her new friends, as they desired.

To the disappointment of the Gryffindor Quidditich team and all the Weasleys — even Molly, although she tried to hide it — Discord did not make an appearance after that one day. Harry and the fillies were able to impress upon the others that chanting Discord’s name was not a good idea, as he was as likely to turn them into flying squirrels as into flying ponies.

It was actually easy to get the twins to comply.

“If you could do things he could do, imagine the pranks you would pull on people whenever someone interrupted you while you were sleeping or busy doing something really interesting,” Harry had said.

The twins had exchanged looks, shuddered, and talked everyone else out of saying Discord’s name in the hope of getting him to turn them into flying ponies, again.

However, they did notice that they all had a better, almost instinctive, control of their brooms. And what the weather was about to do. And their eyesight had improved. Oliver said that for the first time ever he could see the snitch when it wasn’t hovering completely still.

Ginny was ecstatic at having the other girls over, a rare event of female company since her best friend’s mother had died earlier that spring and the girl, Luna, didn’t come over anymore. The twins were always too busy with other things to play with their sister — except when they wanted to try a prank, and that had gotten old for her years ago. Now, she avoided them as much as they avoided her. And Ron, well, his idea of a good time was spending hours talking about the Chudley Cannons. But while she liked Quidditch, there were only a certain number of times she could listen to Ron recap the team’s last league championship — 1892 — before fleeing the room, screaming, at the mere mention of it.

When Oliver commented that there was a Quidditch match coming up on the weekend — the Tutshill Tornadoes versus the Wimbounre Wasps, neither of whom were the Chudley Cannons, to Ron’s disappointment — Harry and the girls, and Rainbow Dash, insisted they see the game. It wasn’t a difficult task to convince the others to come along.

The entire string, the six Element bearers, Harry, the fillies, and even Scootaloo’s Aunts, Lofty and Holiday, attended with the Weasleys. The only holdout was Mrs. Weasley, who wasn’t nearly as much a fan as the rest of her family. Even if she had enjoyed her time playing the game as a flying pony.

Rainbow Dash, Lofty, and Scootaloo almost had to be physically restrained from joining the game once they saw how the professionals played. They left the stadium with Rainbow Dash and Lofty planning on setting up a game with Rainbow’s weather team in Equestria. Twilight’s admission that she had several books on the history and rules of the game back at the library had the two adult pegasi racing for the portal home.

On Tuesday morning, at breakfast, Harry noticed that his trunk was in the dining-room. “Ah, yes,” said Twilight, when he asked why, “Mr. Truckle, the proprietor of the trunk store has agreed to come over today to teach me and several others everything he knows about the Undetectable Expansion, and the runes that it uses.” She wriggled happily, “There are just so many applications for it back in Equestria!” She grinned at Harry. “And there’s nothing better than to have an expert who’s been using a spell for years to teach you about it!” Harry and the fillies nodded in understanding.
She glanced up at the wall clock. “He’s going to Floo in at nine and I wanted you to be able to come and go as you please without interrupting us in the sitting-room.”

That made sense. And he could see that sort of thing happening pretty frequently as ponies in Equestria started to hear about the portal and the new magic spells being discovered.

The group came to a stop outside Ollivander’s. Twilight bounced in place — disturbingly like Pinkie Pie sometimes did at home — as she turned to face them. “Ready Harry? Girls? Oh! This is so exciting!” she gushed. Of the adult Equestrians, only Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash had come along to pick up the kids’ wands.

The kids nodded nervously. Impossible as it seemed, Twilight was even more impatient to get a wand than the kids were.

Harry noticed most of the wizards in the alley had stopped to watch Twilight bounce.

She grabbed the door handle and almost teleported inside, the doorbell tinkling musically.

A soft breeze blew through the Alley as the wizards sighed at her disappearance.

It was a Wednesday afternoon outing, seven days after the wand-maker had taken their wand cores. The Grangers and the Weasleys accompanied them as well — the twins had wanted to pick up a few “school” supplies, they claimed, while Molly did some shopping for the house. That, of course, meant both Ron and Ginny were along as well. Ron was clearly envious of those getting new wands and Ginny a bit sad that she wasn’t getting a wand at all.

To their surprise, they had met both Mr. Weasley and the Headmaster after floo-ing into the Leaky Cauldron. Harry considered it highly suspicious that the Headmaster just happened to need to talk with the creepy wand-maker the same day they went to pick up their custom-made wands. And Harry never did hear why Mr. Weasley was there as well, even Mrs. Weasley was surprised to see him. Applejack, Harry was relieved to see from her frown, was just as sceptical.

Mrs. Weasley and the twins went their separate ways at the wand shop, but not without a final warning to the twins to, “. . . behave. Or else.” The look she gave them would have kept Harry on the straight and narrow. From the way they rolled their eyes, he got the impression it was her standard warning for them.

Like their previous visit, the small store easily accommodated them all even though it was definitely too small to do so when looking in from outside. And, again like their previous time, the old wand-maker startled them by abruptly appearing behind the counter. “Good afternoon,” he said a softly. He looked over the group and nodded to Dumbledore, “Headmaster.”

He returned his attention to the rest of the herd, “And right on time,” he said approvingly. He reached below his counter and began laying a row of wand boxes on top. “Six wands for six customers.” Harry thought his smile was more than a little creepy.

The old man turned his attention to Ron and Ginny. “I expected you here a bit earlier, but better late than never,” he said to Ron.

Ron stared back at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“And you, my dear, will have to wait until next year,” he said, addressing Ginny.

Then he turned his attention back to the Equestrians, “But first, let’s see how well your new wands like you.”

He carefully lifted one of the boxes and reverently handed it to Twilight. “Your wand,” he said simply, bowing his head slightly.

Twilight was bouncing in place again and almost snatched the box from the old wizard’s hands. She lifted the top off and stared at the beautifully polished wand inside. There was a glow surrounding it. “Oh!” she said excitedly.

“Yes, a perfect match,” murmured the wand-maker.

As she took the wand in her hand and lifted it, a veritable torrent of sparks flew from the end. The glow spread from the wand to Twilight until both were almost too bright to look at, then dimmed. She didn’t appear to notice, although Harry saw that the Headmaster certainly did, given how hard he was squinting through his glasses at her. No one else seemed to notice. That Harry could so easily he attributed to his new glasses — one of the rune settings was to “see magic.”

She gently swished her wand through the air, showering the room in sparks and leaving a glowing trail behind in the air. She reached across the counter and grabbed the old wand-maker in a hug, “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She released the surprised wizard and held up her wand, beaming at it. “This is going to be so much fun!” She started hopping again. Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley and Mr Granger watched her intently. Mrs. Granger elbowed Mr. Granger in the stomach, scowling at him, and then smirking at his uncomfortable expression at getting caught staring.

Ollivander smiled at her. “I am honoured that you approve,” he said softly, giving her a short bow.

“Now then,” he continued, “this one is yours.” He handed a box to Hermione. Hesitantly, she took the box and opened it. Her mouth formed a silent “oh!” as she beheld the gleaming wand. It wasn’t glowing as Twilight’s had been, but it seemed to leap into her hand as she reached for it. Instantly, sparks flew from the tip.

The wand-maker nodded happily, “Yes, another perfect match.”

The next three boxes went to the fillies, and each wand quivered in its box and blew prolific sparks across the room as soon as it was touched.

Harry’s wand, though, had two alicorn hairs, not just one wand core. When he lifted his wand out of the box, a torrent of both light and dark sparks flew across the shop. And he felt as if currents of both cool and warm water were running up his arm from the wand to his heart and head, making him sway dizzily.

The wand-maker turned to Ron. “Now, which is your wand arm?”

Startled out of enviously watching the others examining their wands, Ron said, “Huh? Wand?” He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. “I got a wand,” he said defensively. “Well, actually, it was Charlie’s wand before he graduated,” he said, his voice dropping off a bit as he finished. He frowned as he looked at the wand. “I think it belonged to one of my Uncles before that,” he finished dejectedly.

“Oh, no,” said Ollivander, “That’s a twelve-inch springy Ash wand with a unicorn tail hair! While close, that’s still not right for you at all. The wand chooses the wizard, after all,” he said reproachfully. “And it is in dreadful condition,” he noted disapprovingly, frowning.

“Well, our budget is a bit tight right now,” Mr. Weasley interrupted, “We’ll have to wait until later to get him a proper wand.”

The wand-maker studied the wizard closely before giving a slow nod. “As soon as practical, then,” he said, frowning.

Meanwhile, Rarity watched thoughtfully, then carded her left-hand fingers through her hair. She looked at her hand and smiled. She pulled a long hair from her left hand with her right and turned to the young wizard.

As Ron sighed and put his wand back in his pocket, she held out her hand to him, the long black hair dangling. “Here, Ronald Weasley,” she said, “See if Mr. Ollivander might be willing to trade you a wand for this.”

Ron looked at her as if she were mad, and hesitantly took the hair. He apparently didn’t notice the black hair rippling and turning a vivid purple. From the way his eyebrows suddenly rose, Harry knew the Headmaster had.

The other Weasleys were just as puzzled, but Harry saw the Headmaster watching the wand-maker intently as the old shopkeeper stood a bit straighter and his eyes seemed a bit brighter. Mr. Weasley, though, frowned as he tried to puzzle out what was actually happening.

“Freely given,” whispered Ollivander as he reverently reached across the counter and held his hand out to Ron. Ron still looked puzzled as he handed the hair to him. A crooked smile appeared on the wizard’s face as he held up the long shimmering purple hair, easily two-and-a-half feet in length. “Yes,” he said, studying the length of hair, “I believe we can call this a more than fair trade.” He inclined his head towards Rarity as she smiled demurely.

She looked at the other hair in her left hand, and then turned to Ginny. “Here, Ginevra Weasley, you may have this one.”

Ginny took it, eyes wide. She looked at her brother and the wand-maker, then pushed up to the counter holding her hand up high. “Me, too!” she said firmly.

He looked down at her. He took the hair and said, “You have full credit for a wand when you are old enough.”

Twilight interrupted. “While there are seasonal variations, the innate ability to use magic does not dramatically change because one day turns into another, no matter how significant that day may be.”

Everyone turned to listen.

“While the usual age for being allowed to use magic is considered eleven, here,” she continued in her lecturing voice, “there are many who are ready before then and many who are not. I think you should consider magical capability and resilience when granting a wand, and not a mostly arbitrary age.” She looked at the wand-maker, one eyebrow arched in challenge.

“That is true,” Ollivander said, nodding again. “However, the Ministry has decreed that no one under the age of eleven may use a wand.”

Twilight shrugged. “Then her parents may keep it for her birthday. And children are allowed to purchase and use wands after receiving their Hogwarts’ letter, as long as they are not seen by non-magicals. Even if their birthday is September First.”

Harry hid a grin. Twilight hadn’t been reading just the Wizarding World spell-books from all the books she had purchased. In fact, he was rather surprised to see her without dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Spike must have been nagging her something fierce. Or she was using an illusion charm, again.

The two stared at each other until the Headmaster interrupted, “I think, in this situation, the Ministry might make an exception. She is, after all, behind protective enchantments at her home.” He paused a moment, then added, “If you think her magic is stable enough for a wand, that is.”

Twilight smirked. “Oh, it is,” she declared quietly.

The wand-maker nodded. “Let me put these away,” he said, lifting the two hairs slightly. Two measuring tapes leapt from behind his counter and started measuring the two Weasley children. He turned and headed for his backroom.

Mr. Weasley stared, surprised, at the interchange. He finally said, “We can’t take those wands! We don’t take charity!”

Rainbow Dash had caught on to what Rarity was doing. “You can’t say it’s charity when all Rarity did was give your children two of her hairs to trade for wands. After all, how much value is there in a discarded hair?”

“But . . . but . . . why would Mr. Ollivander take her hair in exchange for wands?” Mr. Weasley asked, bewildered.

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Maybe he has a fetish for purple hair?”

More than one person choked or coughed at that suggestion. The Headmaster’s eyes’ twinkled madly as he obviously held back a laugh. Rarity merely raised her eyebrows and cast a disapproving eye on Dash.

“In any case,” Rainbow continued, “Giving your children a hair cost Rarity nothing. So how is that charity? If someone rich offered to share her umbrella with you in a rainstorm, would you accuse her of charity and walk away into the rain?”

At a loss as to how to continue to argue against the wands, Mr. Weasley gave up. He was sure, though, that somehow this was charity. He just couldn’t figure out how.

After a tense moment as Ginny and Ron alternately stared at their parent, Rarity, Dash, and the measuring tapes that were now measuring the size of their ears, the old wand-maker came back to the counter with an armload of boxes. “That’s enough,” he said, and the tapes fell to the floor.

It took only three tries before Ron was holding a fourteen-inch Willow wand with a unicorn tail hair as the core, which got him a lingering look from Ollivander.

Then the wizard turned to Ginny. Her second attempt was a thirteen-inch Yew wand with a pegasus feather core that sparked quite nicely as she waved it. “Yes,” he said, nodding, “a perfect match. Just remember, take care of your wand and it will take care of you.”

After settling up their bill, Sweetie Belle said, “Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander? Is there any way to carry a wand without having to carry it in your hand all the time? My dress doesn’t have any pockets.” The other girls all nodded or mumbled agreement.

The wand-maker stared at her with his watery eyes. “Yes, my dear,” he said. “I have wand holsters over here.” He walked to the far end of the counter pulled up a box. He pulled out a series of leather bracelets and laid them across the counter. None were any wider than the four fingers on Harry’s hand. “Just slide your wand into this slot,” he demonstrated with his wand. The wand, easily longer than the distance from his elbow to his fingers, slid into the small bracelet.

“They have comfort and sizing runes so you won’t even notice you’re wearing them, as well as anti-summoning runes to protect it and your wand. To retrieve the wand, simply position your hand to catch your wand and the wand will slip right into your palm.”

While the Equestrians all took a step back, the others all stepped over for a closer look. “Uh, do those come in akran, akromn . . . ,” Sweetie Belle started.

Rarity cleared her throat, “Ac-ro-man-tu-la silk,” she supplied.

“. . . yeah, that.”

Ollivander looked at the holsters and shrugged. “They can be, but it is a galleon more expensive, making them two galleons each. And I’ll have to order them.” He thought for a moment. “What colours would you like?”

That stumped them for a moment. “Can you spell them to be chameleon? That way they will always match their attire,” Rarity said.

“There are runes for that, I believe, that could be sewn into place for a sickle more.”

“Excellent,” Rarity said. “Let’s do that. We’ll need five.”

“We’d like one as well,” said Mr. Granger. Hermione beamed up at her father. Mrs. Granger gave her husband a long look. What they hadn’t spent on a wand they could easily spend on their daughter’s wand holster.

Harry looked over at Ron and Ginny who were examining the holsters wistfully. They knew they weren’t getting one.

He looked up at Rarity and cleared his throat. When she glanced at him, Harry held up two fingers and pointed at the two Weasley children. He mouthed “birthday.” A light smile crossed the Equestrian’s lips and she nodded approvingly. It was, after all, little Ginny’s birthday today. And they could easily justify the one for Ron by claiming it was merely a belated birthday present. Or Christmas present.

“It will take a few days for them to be made,” he said to Rarity, “I’ll owl you when they’re ready.”

“Excellent,” she said, and started pulling galleons out of their wallet. The old wizard gave her a puzzled look as she put down more than just what was required for five wand holsters. She leaned a bit closer over the counter and whispered something. He nodded and took her payment wordlessly.

Back at the Weasley homestead, the children were too excited over finally getting their wands to think about flying. They were eager to try those spells they had heard about over the last few days of listening at lunch as Hermione had talked about what she had read.

The first spell was, naturally, lumos, followed by nox.

Harry rubbed his hand over his ear. “Ron, there’s no need to shout. Volume doesn’t affect the spell, only intent. If you want a bright light, push more magic into your wand.” He looked at the others, “Just whisper the spells from now on. That way we won’t distract each other. Or, better yet, just think them. And waving your wand around madly doesn’t make the spell better.” As a unicorn, he hadn’t had to move his head at all, except to aim certain spells. And he had never had to say the name of the spell.

“But,” Ron asked, “How do I push my magic?”

Harry and Sweetie Belle sighed.

Repeating what Twilight had told him, he said, “You magic is like a big pool of water inside you. The bigger the pool, the more magic you can cast. The deeper the pool, the longer you can keep that spell going. And the more you use your magic, the bigger and deeper the pool becomes.”

Ron looked at him blankly. The others, even Sweetie Belle, were listening.

Harry sighed. “Okay. If you want to see the pool, you have to clear your mind of distractions, which isn’t easy!” He frowned in thought. “That is what I did when I first got to Ponyville and found out about magic.” He cleared his throat. “First, make sure you’re comfortably seated. Then close your eyes and try not to think.”

He sighed again. “And you’ll instantly think of something. What I did was picture a box with a lid that I stuffed that thought into and closed the box.”

He took a deep breath. “However, what I discovered was that you’ll have a lot of those thoughts, so you need to make a lot of boxes, and label them. But each time it will get easier, and it will be longer between those interruptions. Eventually, they’ll stop happening and you’ll be in this big quiet space. After a while, you’ll notice there’s something nearby, a big pool. That’s your magic.”

He paused a moment. “Then imagine a tiny stream coming from that pool to your arm and down to your wand. And that’s it.”

He looked at Ron. “Now, you’ll probably need a box labelled Chudley Cannons, inside a giant box labelled Quidditich!” The others laughed. “And inside that Chudley Cannons box will be a bunch of others about the different players and the team’s statistics.”

He looked at everyone. “It won’t happen fast, it took me several weeks, but boy, was it worth it! And it makes it soo much easier to remember things, too. Especially schoolwork.”

“Several weeks!” Ron looked very dismayed. The others didn’t look that happy at the thought of all that work, either.

Harry sighed and thought a moment. “Okay,” Harry said, “Let’s try this.” He wasn’t confident enough in his own abilities to try what Twilight usually did, but this was worth an attempt. He stepped up beside Ron and grabbed his wand hand in his. “See if you can feel this,” he said as he poured a bit of magic into his hand and pushed it into Ron’s hand and up into his wand. “Lumos,” he whispered, making it glow.

Ron jerked his hand away and the wand’s glow went out. “ ’Cor! That felt weird!”

Harry grabbed his hand again. “Okay, let’s do that again.” A moment later the wand was glowing. “Okay, now you do that.” Harry slowly decreased the magic he was pushing into Ron’s hand. The wand’s glow sputtered a few times, but eventually Harry let go of Ron’s hand and the wand stayed lit.

“Now, then,” Harry said, “While keeping the wand glowing, trace that weird feeling back to your magic pool.”

It was hilarious to watch Ron’s eyes go cross-eyed as he tried to do both at once. Naturally, the moment he took his attention off the wand, it went out. However, he was clearly making progress as his continued efforts showed. Soon, they were all trying to feel their way to their magic pools while Harry supervised. Which meant he got to eat most of Mrs. Weasley’s snack tarts while they were distracted.

As Harry expected, Sweetie Belle was the first to announce her success. “Oh, there it is!” Then, in a slightly disappointed tone, she continued, “Oh, I can’t really see it but I can tell something’s there.”

“Maybe you have to do that meditation stuff to actually see it.”

“Hmm,” she said distractedly, her wand’s glow slowly getting brighter and dimmer.

Once they all had lumos and nox under control, they moved on to colloportus and alohomora, locking and unlocking the back door. That was followed by silencio — which required a rescue from Mrs. Weasley and led them to finite incantatem. And a scolding for playing with magic without anyone older supervising them! Mrs. Weasley dragged Percy from his room and made him watch over them, after that. And Percy made them redo all the spells they had already done, so he could critique them. All of which pretty much took them the rest of the afternoon.

That evening was the first time that the Equestrians returned home as a group. Previously, the adults had been spending their days in Equestria and only returning to Little Whinging for the evenings, primarily just Applejack, Twilight, and Rarity. They were waiting for the go ahead from the solicitor about presenting Blueblood’s bona fides — and studying the materials Yueshi gave them regarding what he thought they needed to know about Britain, its government, and what they might expect from the government, the people, and the rest of the world.

At this point they owned almost all the land within a quarter-mile of the Magnolia Road Playpark, and the Guards had started building a more permanent station around the portal tree. It matched the one in Equestria, although on a much smaller scale. Having to use only pegasi and earth ponies for the building was slowing things down markedly — they didn’t want to chance the unicorns’ magic spells being detected by the wizards. However, being able to cast weight-reduction spells on the materials did compensate somewhat for that.

The previous evenings had been spent watching either the BBC or films, with a little bit of showing off what the boy and fillies had learned in magic that day at the Weasleys.

To keep Scootaloo from becoming too homesick, Twilight had managed to talk her Aunt Lofty into coming through the portal a few times to spend the night. Rarity and Applejack coming to stay over on a regular basis helped the other two girls to stay happy. The adults wanted to get the children used to being away from home before sending them away to Hogwarts.

This evening, though, they would be returning to Equestria.

35 — Assumptions

In Little Whinging there was now a dirt pathway from the street to the portal. Except once you were several steps inside the forest, and hidden behind some strategically planted bushes, it became a raised wooden path with rails on the sides. Just inside the forest, again behind strategically grown bushes, was a guard on each side of the path keeping watch for intruders.

The portal tent had been rearranged. To the left of the portal was a curtained-off dressing area for the girls and women, with a matching arrangement for the boys and men on the right. It was easier to put on and remove human clothing while not a pony. A curtain in front of the portal was switched back and forth to provide the privacy a naked human wanted when passing through it, not that the ponies cared. They were just preparing for future visitors.

Harry went first, as the lone male, while the girls were getting undressed. After him came the adults and then the girls. As a result, he was the first to notice the change.

“Scootaloo,” he said happily when she came through the portal, “your wings!”

Startled, she turned to look and gasped, echoed by the rest. Her small wings were gone. Whatever Discord had done to her wings to make them bigger that day at the Weasleys home hadn’t gone away. Her wings now extended almost past her tail! “Oh. My. Celestia!” she cawed in delight. Seconds later she was soaring around the portal tree.

“Scootaloo,” called loudly Twilight, “you have to land!” She glanced at the guards around the portal who were tracking the filly carefully. Two pegasi with crossbows had already moved to pace her while unicorns on the ground tracked her. Others were just as closely watching the new arrivals, in case the flying filly was a diversion.

“Sorry, she’s just excited,” Twilight apologized.

A moment later, a purple glow surrounded the flying filly and dragged her down. Twilight held Scootaloo steady as she took a long slow walk around her, studying the filly’s new wings. Most pegasi primary wing tips, when the wings were properly folded, barely reached above their pony’s cutie mark. Scootaloo’s reached her tail, and the feathers completely covered where her cutie mark would be.

After casting a couple of spells, Twilight finally rendered her verdict. “The wings are permanent, as far as I can tell.”

Scootaloo would have been hopping in place if she could have moved in the purple alicorn’s hold.

“A bit larger than most pegasi your age, but I imagine you’ll grow into them.” She smirked and muttered, “And the pegasi stallions will love ’em.” She gave the filly a stern look. “No flying until we leave the Portal Exclusion Area.”

Scootaloo had her wings fully extended and was examining them minutely. “Dash is going to be soo surprised when I fly in!” she muttered to herself, clearly not listening to a word Twilight was saying beyond “permanent wings.” It was clear Discord was no longer someone she would fear.

Harry wondered what Discord would do when Scootaloo gave him a hug and profuse thanks the next time she saw him.

The area around the portal had changed considerably, Harry saw. The grounds around the portal tree looked like a long-established park. There were no signs of the military emplacements he knew existed. He couldn’t even spot them and he knew where they were. He expected illusions would have done that, except that a bush or rock surrounded by magic would be a dead giveaway to astute unicorns. They must be using only natural camouflage.

The poles he had wondered about previously were now holding up netting. When he looked for the magic, as Twilight had taught him, he could see that the netting was heavily reinforced. Nothing would be getting in or out via flying. At least, not without expending a great deal of effort and magic. Unless a dragon decided to dive through it. And even then . . . .

The Everfree walls were much bigger now, easily overtopping the trees both inside and outside the compound. The partition wall separating the portal tree from the path to Sweet Apple Acres was only half as high, but was also still under construction.

Scootaloo was so excited to try out her wings that she would have run all the way to the orchard if Twilight had let her. As it was, the little pegasus reminded him of the small dogs he had seen some people walking in Little Whinging, where the dog was straining to run, pulling against its leash and panting with the effort, while the owner was leaning back and holding the leash tightly. Only, in this case, the leash was magic. And the panting was excitement and impatience.

Once they were past the partition wall, he noticed that the secondary buildings on the plans were now under construction, with only one of the soldiers’ barracks nearing completion. The tunnels he had seen marked were completely hidden, with no sign of their presence.

The completed building across the path at the orchard was the “official” entrance to the portal area. They had to go through the tunnel in its middle and sign-out as portal travellers. As soon as they stepped outside, Scootaloo took off in a streak of orange and purple with her, “See-you-tomorrow-bye!” fading out in the distance. From the direction she took, Harry figured it would be an hour or so before she actually went home.

Harry and the other two fillies were looking forward to spending a night in their own beds. Harry wondered if there would be room for him in the castle, considering the large number of books Twilight had been buying over the last week, both normal and magical. He imagined Spike would have insisted on a path through the stacks to the kitchen, bathroom, and upstairs.

He was surprised to see that the castle looked almost exactly the same as it had the last time he was there. Seeing his surprise, Twilight smirked and said, “The library room is more than sufficient. The runes for that undetectable expansion charm are truly fantastic! I can’t believe no pony ever thought of doing that here.”

Headmaster Dumbledore sat back in his office chair, steepled his fingers, and contemplated what he had learned so far about Harry Potter and his mysterious benefactors.

He had recalibrated the monitor on the boy’s happiness. Harry was obviously enjoying himself at the Weasleys’ home, as Arthur had told him from Molly’s observations. And yet the monitor hadn’t moved an iota from its neutral position.

Clearly, he had miscalibrated it all those years ago when Harry had been here being checked out by Madam Pomfrey. The sleeping spell they had casted on him must have interfered with his initial calculations. He had assumed the boy to be in a deep, dreamless sleep. If, instead, the spell had placed the boy in a lighter state, he might have been dreaming of something happy at the time. Which would have made Dumbledore’s baseline scan misread happiness as neutral.

On the other hand, that meant that all those years where he and Minerva had thought the boy to be merely accepting of his lot in life, Harry had really been having fun and enjoying his time with his relatives. He knew Minerva would be overjoyed at that discovery. It would go a long way towards allaying her guilt over leaving baby Harry with “those horrible muggles,” as she often termed them.

He didn’t want to admit that he, too, could rest a bit easier, now.

And while he would have preferred Harry to stay with the Dursleys; that they were on a vacation was something out of his control. In previous years, they had left him with Arabella — which had suited Dumbledore just fine. That this time they had relinquished Harry to these foreigners was unfortunate, but nothing that he could correct at this point. If he tried to remove Harry from them, his own spells might regard his actions as interfering with the Dursleys’ custody of the boy, and react in ways that were unpredictable.

Besides, it was only for a month and then the boy would be safe at Hogwarts. In the meantime, he had managed to secure a place for the boy with the Weasleys during the day. Harry would be safer there during the days if he couldn’t be with the Dursleys at number Four Privet Drive. The extra charms he had placed on the entire homestead would ensure that!

That Harry returned every night to Little Whining, but not to the Dursleys, was a bit aggravating. However, he had managed to place a charm, just this evening, around the house on Magnolia Road to directly warn him should any wizard or witch with harmful intent come within a hundred feet of it. That the foreigners, and the other people living on the street, hadn’t been home had made it that much easier for him to act without fear of being seen. An unusual bit of good luck, he thought.

Yes, Harry was as well-protected as the circumstances today would allow. Better, even, as no one knew where he was or where he had been. No one would suspect the boy of being in a muggle neighbourhood after seeing him in Diagnon Alley with the foreigners. Nor would anyone suspect he was at the Weasley household during the day.

The rumours he had planted regarding the boy’s circumstances had worked splendidly. The foreigners were certainly helping muddy the waters even more. He wouldn’t even need to place additional misdirection charms on the boy. Yes, James and Lily’s boy was as safe as the Headmaster could arrange. And much happier than he had expected, given the stormy relationship Lily had had with her sister. He was pleased to see that Petunia had managed to rise above her petty feelings and provide the proper care a child deserved.

And then there was his magical prowess! Wandless silent spell-casting and apparition, indeed! He had never expected the boy to be that powerful — and with skills that most adults struggled to master. While his mother and father had been slightly above average in power, and their spell-casting skills definitely better than most wizards and witches, what he had seen the boy demonstrate was nothing less than astounding for a child his age. He would grow up to be a powerful wizard indeed. Not as powerful as Dumbledore, but still, a wizard to be reckoned with.

Not to mention that his girl friends nearly matched him!

And then there were adults.

Ollivander had called two of them gods.

Miss Sparkle and Miss Pie had almost blinded him when he had first looked at them through his glasses at the pub! Such power! He had never seen anyone, wizard or witch, that radiated as much magic as those two did. He had had to dim his glasses down to the point where ordinary wizards and witches no longer registered before he could see anything but blinding white in their direction. On that point, alone, many wizards and witches would have been awed. He certainly understood Ollivander’s reaction.

And their control of their magic was just as amazing. Watching as Miss Sparkle had manipulated her quill while making delicate calculations as she modified an apparition spell on the fly had been . . . well . . . spell binding! It was such a casual display of magical expertise and skill that he didn’t think for a moment that she was trying to show off. It was simply the way she did things. And the spell itself was an eye-opener.

Her claim that “even a child could do it” might be hyperbole, despite Miss Granger’s rapid learning of it — the girl was clearly a prodigy, soaking up knowledge like a sponge soaked up water. Teleportation’s complex safety runes countered apparition’s difficult casting requirements. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, as his mother used to say. On the other hand, those wizards and witches that had difficulty with apparating might find this teleportation easier to master. If they had the power.

If the Princess wasn’t some kind of prodigy in her own right, if that talent and skill, never mind the sheer power, were considered normal, or even only slightly above average, then the wizarding world was in for a shock! He would have to keep an extremely close watch on the girls to see if they all showed such promise.

Miss Pie had been the real enigma. He hadn’t seen her cast a single spell, yet she had managed to bake a cake in an impossibly short amount of time without anyone noticing. And he hadn’t seen any tell-tale signs of a time-turner in use.

That even Miss Rarity had said that Miss Pie did things that mystified her had been intriguing. Plus, watching her move around in the garden had been as enlightening as it had been frustrating. She hadn’t apparated, or teleported, even once, yet she had seemed to move from one side of the garden to the other without him seeing her traverse the distance between them.

And neither Miss Sparkle, nor Miss Pie had once picked up a wand to do magic.

Could they be gods? Or were they simply extremely powerful witches? He tended to think it was more of the latter. If they truly were gods, then Merlin save the wizarding world, because no one else could hope to come close.

Or were they Veela? He hadn’t sensed a Veela Aura around them, which wasn’t unexpected for an adult. The girls were too young to manifest, just yet, so they couldn’t be a clue. If the foreigners were Veela, then they were extremely powerful ones, much more powerful than any he had read about or encountered. Unless the rumour that Circe of Homeric legend was the head of the Veela tribe. She might have had the power. But that failed to explain this Discord wizard. And the Veela of today did not divide themselves into Unicorn and Pegasi tribes. So, probably not Veela. He would keep a close eye on the girls to see if a Veela Aura manifested around them in the next few years.

He had watched Miss Jack in the orchard for a brief time. And, again without the help of a wand, she had been doing things to the trees that he had only ever read about a Druid being able to do. Yet she didn’t appear to be of an age to have achieved such mastery as he had witnessed. Were they truly much older than their outward appearances? Their apparent clumsiness when walking and using their hands seemed to support that assumption.

Miss Shy and Miss Dash he hadn’t had much opportunity to study as they hadn’t remained near the garden for very long.

From what he had seen in the wand-maker’s shop, they used illusions to conceal certain facts about themselves. Such as their hair. While Miss Dash and Miss Pie had gone around unabashedly with their brilliant hair colours, the others all had plain black hair. He hadn’t suspected that they were using illusions on their hair until Miss Rarity had handed two of her hairs to the Weasley boy and girl. Seeing the illusion drop had been startling. As had been seeing the old wand-maker’s reaction. Dumbledore had never seen Ollivander awed before.

In the pub, he had dulled down his glasses’ perception to screen out the blinding light from Miss Pie and Miss Sparkle. He hadn’t realized that that had rendered him relatively blind to other magics being in use.

With that discovery, he had carefully moved around until he had been able to examine the other foreigners without being overwhelmed by Miss Sparkle or Miss Pie. The adults all exuded magic that easily outclassed most wizards. The girls and Harry also glowed with magic above that of their peers — although for them it was more diffuse and wild, not yet under their control. Something he would expect of children, but that still promised they would be witches to watch when they were older.

And there hadn’t been a single sign of Dark magic around any of them — not even Harry. Or maybe Dumbledore’s dialled-down magical detection charm on his glasses hadn’t picked up the innate Dark magic in Harry’s scar.

The foreigners’ naivety had been rather endearing, actually. Not that they weren’t smart. The grilling Miss Rarity had given them had been quite thorough. And her responses were as telling, to him.

From their reactions, he thought their magical repertoire was rather limited. But having no conflicts for a thousand years did remove the impetus for inventing new spells, he had to admit. And the lack of muggles actively hunting them because of their magic removed the incentive for deception, misdirection, and, he grudgingly had to admit, the petty prank spells, as well.

He had no doubt that once they assimilated the huge variety of spells the wizards and witches had that these foreigners would be a force to be reckoned with, if push came to shove. Especially if the average one of them was anywhere near as powerful as even the children in this group.

Letting those girls into Hogwarts might not be such a good idea. But if they weren’t there, then neither would be Harry. Of the two, he would take Harry being at Hogwarts, and worry about the repercussions of these foreigners later.

And then there was Harry’s wand!

There was only one wand he knew that possessed as much power — the Elder Wand, made from an Elder tree with a Thestral hair as its core. Watching this . . . dual-alicorn wand . . . react to the boy as he picked it up had been quite informative. And disturbing. The blast of both Light and Dark magic from the wand at Harry’s touch had been unsettling. He would have to keep a close eye on the boy’s development. He shuddered to think of that wand in the hands of someone with Dark leanings. He would need to guide the boy as subtly as possible to the side of Light.

His girl friends and their guardians were unknowns. They seemed to be steeply banked in the Light, but he had no references for their backgrounds and their leanings. The Dark sparks coming from the wand in addition to the Light, though, indicated that maybe these foreigners were not as Light as he might hope, given that the core materials came from two powerful alicorns.

He would have to plant the seeds to get Arthur’s little girl and youngest son close to them, maybe even push a bit. Coming from as Light a family as they did, they might be able to influence the girls away from the Dark.

Could he somehow convince her parents to let her attend Hogwarts this year instead of waiting for next? Her getting her wand early was certainly a fortuitous circumstance, he could say that if Ollivander and this prodigy of magic foreigner, Miss Sparkle, said her magic was ready, then why hold the poor dear back?

And once she was at Hogwarts, her presence in the same dorm-room and classes as the foreign girls would give him a way to monitor and guide them to the Light.

That the girl adored the image of the “Boy Who Lived” was no secret to him. Arthur had more than once shared the girl’s obsession with the Headmaster, sometimes with trepidation, sometimes with pride. It depended on how Molly was reacting at the time. Molly had the idea that her daughter was the perfect future wife for the boy.

Dumbledore shook his head, ruefully. He wasn’t as sure of that potential relationship as the witch was. Sometimes Molly could be quite overbearing. Hence Arthur’s trepidation regarding her plans. He would have to keep a close eye on the situation, lest the girl, Ginny, inadvertently push Harry and the girls away with her attempts to gain Harry as “her” boyfriend.

Which left the whole problem of exactly where these foreigners came from.

And it was the princesses and this Discord in that homeland that he needed to understand the most.

All he knew of the princesses was that they were co-rulers. And that Ollivander considered one of them to be the Goddess of the Sun and the other to be the Goddess of the Moon. If they were that much more powerful than the ones here, he might consider the appellation appropriate – in the ancient Greek and Roman sense, at least.

The timescales Rarity and this Discord had mentioned were worrisome. Both the Princesses and this Discord appeared to be extremely long-lived, if not immortal. And magic forbade immortality without enacting heavy penalties on the wizard or witch attempting it — as Voldemort could attest.

On the other hand, that these princesses were able to get alicorns, winged unicorns of great magic, to willingly give them hairs from their manes implied that the Princesses had to be of the Light, as no unicorn would willingly give of itself to a Dark Wizard or Witch.

However, the ancient Assyrians ascribed winged unicorns and winged bulls as great evils, although they sometimes referred to the winged unicorns as Light and sought their blessings. The Eastern societies had simply lumped both unicorns and winged unicorns into the same category, they could be either Light or Dark.

Of course, having a core from a creature of the Light did not limit a wand to the world of the Light. Voldemort’s wand contained a feather from Fawkes, his Phoenix, an extremely Light creature. That did not prevent the wizard from doing great evil. Therefore, having hairs, feathers, or heartstrings from extremely Dark creatures would not predispose the wand user from being Light.

But it was worrying, nonetheless, that the wand had produced both Light and Dark sparks, showing that it was apparently neutral with respect to the wizard wielding it. He would have to consider carefully the implications of that. And watch Harry closely.

That the foreigners referred to Discord as the God of Chaos was worrisome.

The stories the Weasley children had relayed to their parents from Harry and the girls about the creature’s escapades were frightening in their implications — cotton-candy (which he thought must be candy floss) clouds, raining chocolate milk, and reversing gravity over huge areas, all indicated great, great power. Many of the things that wizard had done in the Weasley garden could be illusions, but the transformations were not. Even if Albus discounted the magnitude of the stories, he still had to contend with the fact that Discord had managed to transform thirteen wizards and witches into brand new forms for almost six hours, without any evidence of strain. And he had set such specific conditions on the spells’ dismissal! Dumbledore had to admit to himself that he couldn’t have managed such precision, nor power it without collapsing in exhaustion afterwards.

Yes, he could transform dozens or even hundreds of things during a duel, but those were transient charms, rarely lasting more than a dozen seconds, very few survived a whole minute. He hadn't needed to put a great deal of power in them to make them last hours.

That Harry and the girls considered Discord to be a prankster and not a monster was of little solace. That Rarity had expressed reservations on his character merely increased the Headmaster’s misgiving. He would have to tread very carefully if he ever met that wizard. And warn the Weasleys as well.

Which left the question of where these foreigners called home. He had a few clues. Ponyville was the home for the foreigners he had met. The Princesses lived somewhere called Canterlot. Another place was called Appleloosa. And still another, the Crystal Empire. All were locations where the witches had relatives, and there had been the mention of a wizard, a brother to Miss Sparkle. And a married couple, her parents. And the distances were large enough that travel via a floo-network was considered a time-saver, instead of relying on their teleportation. That implied that not all of their people could use the teleportation spell, just as many wizards and witches were not proficient with the apparition spell.

So far, they had mentioned both a pegasus and unicorn tribe, specifically, implying that there might be divisions in their population along those lines. Twilight had mentioned a medical condition afflicting only those in the unicorn tribe, so maybe the power-magic users belonged mostly in that tribe, with the others being more limited in their scope — which still looked to be greater than the average wizard! He would have to watch the girls closely in Hogwarts to see if he could discern any differences in their abilities. Maybe he could get Arthur to talk a bit more with his sons about any mentions of other tribes in their homeland?

There also appeared to be creatures there that were not here, such as a hydra. There hadn’t been a hydra seen since the Roman Empire fell. And a large forest, the Everfree, they had called it, which apparently had many dangerous creatures in it, almost like the Forbidden Forest beside Hogwarts, but much larger.

And if he was right in that the witches out-numbered the wizards by a significant margin, then it was entirely possible that wizarding England might see a sudden influx of powerful witches looking for husbands. The pure-bloods might complain at losing status as small Houses suddenly accumulated much wealth, but the gains in magical prowess as the new witches were courted and married into the families would silence the dissenters quickly enough.

That they also had a large and vibrant economy, was self-evident, as the way they were spending galleons was breath-taking. Not to mention that the goblins had revealed that both the adults and the children had on deposit a considerable amount galleons, enough to raise them into the top-ten of depositors at the bank. All that, without straining their economy in the slightest, from what he could gather. And it took a large number of people to drive an economy big enough to supply that many galleons.

If he had to guess, which he had to, he’d say their population was at least as large as England’s, probably much bigger considering the financial resources thrown into supporting just four children in a foreign-to-them land. Opening up trading with them would be a big boost to the wizarding economy, especially if they could leverage their knowledge and products into the new markets before the foreigners could figure it out for themselves.

And that economy, in turn, meant the foreigners’ homeland had to be at least as large as England — without muggles in residence, they could use all the land instead of hiding in out-of-the-way places like the English wizards did. Which led him to inspect his globe of the world. Where could you hide an entire island where no one was likely to trip across it? But it had to be close enough for a child such as Harry to access it.

Perhaps a portkey? But the Ministry had portkey spells in place to prevent criminals and smugglers from either escaping or infiltrating the country. As did most of the wizarding countries.

He stared at his spinning globe.

Maybe he was looking at this from the wrong angle. Maybe he should consider the Potters and their place in the puzzle.

Perhaps Petunia had kept some of Lily’s things?

Everything in 1981 had been in turmoil due to the war. It wouldn’t have been out of character for Lily to plan for a worst-case situation and hide a trunk at her sister’s home. Her use of the ancient magics to protect Harry certainly showed how inventive and prepared she could be. A trunk with certain items in it if the Potters had had to flee a Voldemort Ministry was not out of the question.

And if Harry had been exploring the attic one day and come across the trunk, opened it, and discovered a communications crystal? The ancient Greeks had used such crystals, on occasion. And he knew that Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James had made a set of mirrors based on those crystals. Most wizards and witches had never heard of them. Which begged the question of how the quartet had so easily created a set. Perhaps the Potters had had a similar device squirreled away? One that James could use as a model, even if he didn’t know the location of its intended twin?

That implied that the Potters had known of these foreigners. And trafficked with them occasionally. What if it was a secret that Lily and James discovered only after they had gone through his father’s things while preparing for the worst — but they hadn’t had the time to use it. Or maybe the other end had been neglected, as well, and it was chance that had led Harry to finding the crystal while its opposite was being watched or examined?

And then Twilight and her friends — perhaps one or more of them was related to the Potters? — had checked up on Harry and decided to befriend him? It wasn’t out of the question for a distant relative to want to reconnect to another branch of the family. And then decided to teach him the magic that they knew. Perhaps even want to introduce a few friends’ daughters to him in the hopes of getting him as a husband for one of them?

Then there was the history he had learned of them. The kingdom was two thousand years old, or two thousand five hundred if you included when Discord was in charge. Which placed them at about the ancient Greek times. And they seemed quite acclimated to the culture they found themselves in here in England. Unlike someone from the Orient, for example. And that implied they had had regular contact with this part of the world.

Could they be from the fabled island of Atlantis? That would fit with the evidence he had seen so far, and fit just as well in the history he had been given.

After considering it for a while longer, he decided that, for the moment, he would assume they were from Atlantis. And wait to see what happened next.

Which, considering that the foreigners had only been in the wizarding world for a week, was probably quite a lot.

36 — Déjà vu Crew

Author's Notes:

Passed Magic School Days in up-votes! Here's a chapter to celebrate!
A friendly competition. Now to work on number of viewers!

Harry was about to take the trunk elevator back to the Weasley sitting room when he heard a familiar voice above. It was a Friday, not long after they got their wands, and just after lunch. He had been using the trunk bathroom because the bathroom at the Weasleys’ had been occupied.

“Arthur? Arthur? Are you home?”

It was the Headmaster. He was using the floo to call Mr. Weasley, which surprised Harry. He thought the Headmaster would just come and go whenever he felt like it.

“Headmaster?” he heard Mr. Weasley answer. “Is something wrong?” His voice was coming closer. He must have still been in the kitchen. “I thought we were going to meet at the Ministry. I was just getting ready to go there.”

“No, no, nothing is wrong. May I come through?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

A moment later, he heard the steps as the older wizard walked into the sitting room.

“Ah, much better,” he said. Harry could imagine him wanding away the soot he had picked up.

“Please, make yourself at home, Headmaster. So, sir, what brings you to The Burrow?” There was the sound of couch and chair springs being compressed. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, no thanks.” There was a brief pause, then the Headmaster said, “It occurred to me that people might begin to talk if they noticed us meeting frequently. Perhaps even think we were plotting something nefarious regarding these newcomers.” He sighed. “I do want to keep up with how our visitors are acclimating to our world, but I want to respect their wishes to keep their presence and origins relatively secret.”

Harry felt his eyebrows arch. Oh really, he couldn’t help but think sarcastically.

The Headmaster chuckled. “It will be so much easier once the children are at Hogwarts. And it is a relief that The Daily Prophet hasn’t launched a full-scale publicity campaign around Harry Potter returning to the wizarding world. I believe one of my protective charms I placed on the boy is responsible for that.”

Harry was surprised the wizard was willing to cooperate. In his experience, adult humans did what they wanted, regardless of what they might promise others. He frowned. And what did the Headmaster mean by “protective charms?” Had he done something to Harry when no one was watching him? He would have to tell Twi about this!

“Already, there are rumours of four new students from four powerful rich foreign families attending Hogwarts this year. All in the company of one Harry Potter.” Harry could hear the smile in his voice as he added, “Miss Granger, it seems, has been assumed to be one of them because she has accompanied them everywhere they went in the Alley.” There was a pause. “Their purchases of so many items in large quantities — books, trunks, brooms, acromantula silk, furniture — and all only of the finest quality — has the entire Alley in a tizzy, especially with the mention of foreign Princesses. And the Goblins have been remarkably closed-mouthed about them as well, much more so than normal. Just mentioning their names will get you escorted out of the bank, as I discovered.” There was a moment of silence. Harry imagined that the Headmaster was shaking his head wryly, putting on a good performance for his audience.

“The Goblins will only admit that the ladies have done business in their bank, and opened accounts. Using the terms of the last Goblin Treaty, Dirk Cresswell was able to get them to give him a list of the current top ten depositors. Regretfully, they would not disclose the amounts on deposit. Princess Sparkle and the girls are listed there — separately in two accounts.” He was quiet for a moment. “They are by no means poor.” He chuckled again. “I don’t suppose it’s a surprise that there’s now a rumour that they are from Atlantis — being completely unknown and with that much gold at their disposal.”

“Oh, dear . . . Do you think it’s possible?”

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking, seriously?

The Headmaster sighed. “It is possible, I suppose.”

Harry felt his jaw drop.

“The history that Molly relayed to us of their homeland certainly seems to indicate so — six thousand years, indeed. The most ancient texts we have suggest that Atlantis was the cradle of wizarding civilization centuries before the muggles discovered bronze.” His tone seemed to indicate he might believe it himself. “We know the old Greek and Roman gods, three thousand years ago, were wizards and witches of some power, most would probably rival Merlin. That they seem to have disappeared without a trace a bit over two and a half thousand years ago has puzzled historians for millennia. Perhaps they were outcasts and returned home when the sister Princesses started ruling? They had, after all, no reason to abandon their situation so abruptly. We lack the information to arrive at a definitive answer.”

There was a brief pause.

“I briefly considered if they might be Veela, considering we have only seen one wizard, but they lack the aura one would expect to see. And they haven’t tried to use the aura to influence anyone. And their demeanour is unlike the Veela I have met.

“However, that the ones here today are extraordinarily powerful is without question, as this Discord so ably demonstrated. We must tread carefully. Should you ever meet him, extend him every courtesy and be very careful of what you say. He is extremely powerful, and, from what the children told us, somewhat capricious in his actions.”

There was a moment’s quiet, then he hummed softly to himself, and changed the subject. “I find it interesting that of the ten we have met, nine are witches.” He cleared his throat. “Minerva told me she met a wizard by the name of Blue Blood when she went to deliver the foreign girls’ Hogwarts’ letters,” he added.

“Eleven witches,” interrupted Mr. Weasley, “Remember, I met Miss Aloo’s two aunts, Lofty and Holiday when we went to the Quidditch match. They must be quite old, which is odd considering they look so young,” he said. “They were very unsteady on their feet and the girls had to constantly help them when walking — especially up and down the stadium stairs.”

“Ah. Yes. You did mention going to a Quidditch match last week,” said the older wizard. He paused a moment before continuing. “And Harry seems to have no wizard friends, just those three girls. They seem quite protective of him, from what I’ve heard and seen. And none of them have mentioned wizards in their homeland.”

Speaking slowly, Mr. Weasley said, “Do you think they might be looking to see if any of the English wizards would make suitable husbands?”

“If they are, they will have their pick of candidates. None of the old families would be averse to marrying their sons off to a pureblood with a pedigree going back several thousand years — and all capable of wandless magic, too! In fact, I don’t doubt they will be fighting each other for the privilege.”

Harry heard the Headmaster shift in his chair. “But I do wonder how Harry met them.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Well, the Potters always were a private family.” mused Mr. Weasley, “The muggle-borns they married in the past were always powerful witches and nothing is really known of them prior to their marrying into the Potters. Perhaps they weren’t really muggle-born but were one of these Atlanteans? And the Potters do have a history of ‘losing’ sons in strange circumstances to adventuring. Perhaps they went to Atlantis and those were just cover stories?”

“Possibly. Possibly,” murmured the older wizard. “Yes, that would explain them seeking the boy out. They were quite distressed with his mother’s sister, as a matter of fact, suggesting the husband, wife, and son should be in a dungeon. I know they were exaggerating Harry’s circumstances, though.”

Harry bristled at the dismissal of his . . . torture . . . at the hands of the Dursleys. He did smile at the thought of them residing in one of the Queen’s prisons, though. Just the thought of them stuck in there made him feel better. Too bad he didn’t know enough magic, yet, to pay them a visit. He was sure there had to be a few spells he could cast that would make their stay more . . . memorable.

“But such familiarity implies they have been in England for some time. And that they knew so little of the wizarding world is troubling. Unless they were verifying what they thought they knew by pretending ignorance.” He sighed. “I can understand that strategy. I would probably do the same, in their shoes.”

There was a long silence as Harry fidgeted. He couldn’t get out now without revealing he had been eavesdropping on them. He wished they would hurry up and go. Thinking about the Dursley’s brought up feelings that always disturbed him. Lately, his reactions to those feeling had been a bit more . . . emphatic. In fact, before coming here he hadn’t thought of them in many months.

“What have you told people when they’ve asked about these newcomers?”

“Only that I can confirm that Harry Potter is going to Hogwarts this year, and that we do have several foreign students attending as well.” Dumbledore paused, then continued, “That is another reason to keep our meetings out of the public view. I don’t want your family to come under scrutiny. Molly wouldn’t like the reporters sneaking around your home and making her guests uncomfortable.”

“Oh! Yes. She certainly wouldn’t,” Mr. Weasley said thoughtfully.

“If you do go out with them in public from now on, I suggest you use a weak notice-me-not spell to distract attention. And I have already strengthened your protection charms on the property, as you know.”

“Yes, yes. Excellent. Thank you, again, Headmaster.”

“Now, then,” Dumbledore paused.

Harry could hear the chair springs creak as he shifted in his chair.

“How have the children adapted to their new wands?”

“Like ducks to water,” Mr. Weasley said jovially. “They’ve worked their way most of the way through the First Year spell-book.”

“Impressive,” the Headmaster said.

“It’s astonishing, really,” he continued, “Sweetie and Harry pick things up almost instinctively, from what I’ve been told, then Hermione is almost always next. The rest follow them.

“Percy and the twins take turns teaching them in-between Quidditch games.” He grinned, “Molly tells me that if it weren’t for Hermione insisting, they’d spend all their time playing Quidditch.” He laughed. “That Scoot just can’t get enough of that game.

“Oh! Speaking of flying,” he suddenly sharpened his tone, “You remember I told you about that Discord bloke? And how he made them all pegasi?”

“Hmm, yes,” the Headmaster said thoughtfully. “A very powerful wizard, indeed. Transfiguration on that scale and for that length of time is quite taxing.”

“Well, earlier today, not long after they floo’d in, Miss Aloo changed herself back into a pegasi! And then, Miss Belle and Harry turned themselves into unicorns! Not pegasi, but unicorns!”

“They did!?” came the Headmaster’s surprised response.

“Oh, yes! You have to see them,” Mr. Weasley said, quite excited, “They are the cutest little things you’ve ever seen!”

There came creaking sounds from the couch and chair as the two stood up.

“Unicorns, you say,” the Headmaster said thoughtfully, his voice fading as he followed the Weasley patriarch into the kitchen.

He heard Mrs. Weasley as she said, “Why, hello Headmaster! I didn’t realize you had come through.”

He didn’t wait for the elevator, he teleported into the back-garden, by the broom-shed where the adults wouldn’t see him. He galloped over to back-garden table where Scootaloo was coaching Ginny, arriving only seconds before the adults exited the kitchen door. He didn’t want them to think even for a moment that he had heard them. Twilight would be amazed when he told her what he had heard, he knew. Atlantis! Sheesh.

“Close your eyes, and remember what it felt like to have wings,” Scootaloo half-whispered into the girl’s ear as she hovered beside her. “The pull on your shoulders as the wind rushes through your feathers, your hooves stretched out in front, your tail flying in the breeze as you banked into that turn on the Quidditch field . . . the earthy feel as your hooves hit the ground when you landed and your wings folded up . . . your ears swivelling as your brothers yelled.”

Ginny was nodding her head, a half-smile on her lips.

“Feel that Pegasus magic and pull on it!”

Mrs. Weasley gasped as her daughter suddenly shrank and dropped to all fours. A moment later a filly with a gold splotched dark-green coat and Weasley-red mane and tail floated up beside Scootaloo. “I DID it! I DID it!” she began to sing as she flew circles around the table. “I DID it! I DID it!”

Scootaloo sported a giant, and proud, grin.

The twins were crouched down beside Sweetie Belle, who shook her head. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be pegasi, guys. I seem to remember you had horns before Dis . . .”

“Sweetie!” hissed Apple Bloom, standing by Ron.

“. . . before he turned us all into pegasi,” Sweetie concluded. “You’ll need to use Harry as an example.” She turned to Ron, “And you’re an earth pony, I think.” Ron did not look pleased at that declaration.

“Mum! Dad! LOOK! LOOK! I DID IT!” Ginny shouted excitedly as she flew over to her parents, hovered, then changed back to little girl. And fell, as she was at their head-height when she changed. She barely noticed as she stood and dusted her butt with her hands. “I can change into a Pegasus!” Which she did again, and breathlessly flew back to Scootaloo, who still was grinning just as excitedly. The two flew loops around each other before Scootaloo tapped Ginny with her hoof and hollered, “TAG, YOU’RE IT!” and took off for the orchard. Ron watched enviously as the two pegasi disappeared into the trees.

“Oh, my,” the Headmaster said quietly. “An animagus before she even arrives at Hogwarts! And mere days after getting her wand.” He turned a contemplative eye towards the Weasleys, who were still staring after their little girl.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “you should consider letting her go to Hogwarts this year. I’m sure an accommodation can be made considering her . . . talent.” He looked off into the orchard where the two fillies could be heard shouting at each other. “And she gets along so well with our guests,” he added softly.

The two adult Weasleys turned their astonished attention to him.

Meanwhile, one twin said to the white unicorn standing beside them, “And you . . .”

“. . . can’t help us?” finished the other.

Sweetie Belle smirked at them, “Not unless you can turn into girls.” She trotted over to Hermione.

The twins turned determined expressions on Harry and headed his way.

Harry looked behind himself before realizing that running would just postpone their attention for only a short time. He sighed. He would get back at Sweetie for abandoning him to them.

The twins had spent hours as pegasi and only minutes as unicorns. He couldn’t do as Scoots had done with Ginny because they hadn’t actually used their horns before Discord changed them.

They did, however, have wands with which they were very proficient. He frowned. Did it matter if they held the wands in their hands or not? After all, the only difference between his human and unicorn forms was that in one he had a magic wielding horn on his head and in the other he held a magic wielding wand in his hand.

He was finding it more than a little difficult to concentrate. The twins had picked him up and put him on the table and were staring at him quite intensely. He almost galloped away when one of them started to lift his tail. “HEY!” he shouted, lunging forward.

Unfortunately, the other twin grabbed him in mid-leap.

“Sorry,” said the first twin, clearly not meaning it. They both started petting him. Which felt oddly soothing. And irritated him greatly. He sat down and glared back at them.

“Come on Harry . . .”

“. . . help us out here.”

He sighed again. “This won’t be easy, like with Ginny. Sweetie is right, you’re unicorns, but you weren’t unicorns very long before he changed you to pegasi.”

“Yeah . . . .” they both grinned happily, remembering. Then they frowned and returned to studying his form.

Harry shook his head. He hadn’t believed Ginny would be able to transform herself into a Pegasus, and yet he had seen her do it just now. The two of them, Scootaloo and Ginny, had been trying for hours after Scootaloo had done it this morning, herself.

Harry had suspected that Scoots might be able to do it when she had suggested trying it when they woke up this morning in Little Whinging. After all, wizards and witches could turn into those animagi, so maybe Scoots could change form too, simply because her native form was a pegasus. It made sense, after all. She didn’t have to spend months and months meditating to discover her “inner” animal. Nor spend additional months studying its physical body so she could perform the transformation without forgetting some vital organ, as the book on the subject had warned.

However, Ginny doing so as well was an entirely different situation. Her native form was a human. Discord had been responsible for changing her into a pegasus, not some innate power inside herself. Unless he had substituted the pegasus form for whatever animal she normally would have been able to transform into as an animagus? That sounded like something sneaky he would do. Simply change the form accessed by her innate ability into that of an Equestrian pegasus, borrowing the template from Scootaloo. Much easier, he suspected, than simply forcing them to transform.

If he had done that, then all she needed was to find the trigger, and Bob’s your uncle! And by forcing the transformation that day, Discord had already shown her magic how to trigger the animagus change. All she had needed to do was remember that trigger.

But how could he use that to help the twins and Ron? He would have suggested remembering the feel of their magic through the horn, but they had never done that. All they had were wands. And if he told them to remember being ponies, all they would remember would be the wings and how it felt to fly!

But then, wands were just the wizards’ way of making horns for themselves, weren’t they? But they held it in their hands, not on their heads. He shook his head again. Was he overthinking things, again?

“Give me your wand, George,” he said. It didn’t matter which of them responded, as long as he handed over his wand.

Puzzled, George held it out to Harry. “Here you go, my good pony!”

Harry grabbed it in his magic and used a sticking charm to put it on George’s head right where a horn should be if he had one. He took a breath. “Okay. Now cast a spell.”

‘George’ was looking cross-eyed up at the wand on his forehead. “Uh, periculum.”

A red spark sputtered from his wand.

Harry said, “There! Can you feel you magic going up into your forehead?”

‘George’ shook his head.

“Keep practicing until you can. Then remember what it felt like as a pony, not flying though. When you were just standing with all four hooves on the ground. Use me as a model, if you have to. Once you’ve got that, just pull on the unicorn magic just like Ginny pulled on her pegasus magic.”

The twins stared at him, then Fred held out his wand. “My turn.”

The adults were looking at the twins as if they were barking mad with their wands stuck to their foreheads and squirting red and green sparks into the air. Ron’s guffaws at their expressions as they tried to “feel” their magic didn’t help. A quick stinging hex from one of the twins put a stop to that, however.

Sweetie Belle was face-hoofing.

At least the twins could cast directional spells, albeit weak ones right now.

Apple Bloom dragged Ron over towards the orchard and set about seeing what she could do to help him “get in touch” with his “inner pony.”

Given that Ginny had tried for hours before succeeding, Harry didn’t expect any results from Hermione, Ron, or the twins until much later in the day, if at all. And he was right. By dinner time, when they left, the twins still had their wands stuck to their foreheads and Ron was scowling darkly enough that Harry was surprised he didn’t create a spontaneous thunderstorm in the kitchen. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t a pegasus.

The next morning they found the rest of the Quidditch team waiting for them in the Weasley back-garden. Oliver and the girls were watching Ginny fly around with expressions of envy and awe. Apple Bloom, again, had dragged Ron over to the nearest tree in the orchard and was talking to him. Ron still had a sour expression, though.

Sweetie Belle and Harry suffered through the attentions of the three girls hugging and petting them for several minutes before escaping as Scootaloo distracted the girls by explaining what she had told Ginny. Having the red-head on the spot to tell them exactly what it felt like the first time she transformed would probably be a huge help.

Surprisingly, though, it was Ron who actually made the first transformation of the morning — into an earth pony with an orange coat and Weasley-red mane and tail. Apple Bloom had made him take his shoes off and then stand beside the apple tree with his hands on the trunk and feet in the dirt while she coached him through it. He had surprised his mother by galloping inside and jumping into her arms.

It was late-morning when Alicia finally made the transformation. Spurred by her success, first Oliver, and then Angelina, mastered the transformation. The quidditch players, as well as Ginny and Scootaloo, took off for the family practice field almost immediately afterwards.

Harry tried to help the twins. They had, apparently, slept with their wands stuck to their foreheads. Not that that had helped, Harry was sure. Unfortunately, the twins spent nearly as much time trying to hex each other with their wands on their foreheads as they did trying to transform.

Meanwhile, Apple Bloom was showing Ron proper bucking technique. Of course, to do that she had to quicken a few trees into having an early harvest. “Thay won’t be as tasty as when we let them grow naturally, but Ah think it’s worth it,” she had explained. “But afore you can buck a tree, ya gotta find the tree’s sweet spot,” she said, walking around the first tree and examining it carefully. “Thar,” she said pointing. “Do ya see that spot?”

Ron squinted and shook his head. Apple Bloom made him walk around the tree several times until he finally gave a hesitant nod.

Harry thought Mrs. Weasley’s expression was hilarious when she saw Apple Bloom buck nearly three bushels of apples into three baskets under the tree with nary a single miss. Watching her jaw drop even farther when her son, after several attempts, did the same thing a few minutes later to a different tree had him rolling on the ground, laughing.

Harry and Sweetie Belle gathered the six baskets and brought them back to the table for everyone to sample at lunch, although Ron managed to down quite a few apples when his mother wasn’t looking.

He seemed quite happy with himself. After all, as he said later, flying was nice, and being able to cast spells as a pony might be fun, but his animagus could actually do something useful!

Shortly before lunch, Hermione successfully made the transition into a unicorn with a black coat and bushy-brown mane and flowing brown tail. Then the three unicorns tried to help the twins. Harry expected Hermione’s explaining what it felt like would have them into unicorn form rather quickly. He was wrong.

It was late afternoon when the twins finally mastered the transformation spell. No sooner did one transform, than the other followed so closely it almost looked simultaneous. Watching the two twins, with magenta coats that clashed horribly with the Weasley-red mane and tail, kicking up their heels and racing around the garden while shooting spells at each other was quite entertaining. The twins spent the rest of the afternoon practicing casting spells as unicorns. And using each other as targets.

That took them a little getting used to as they kept trying to move their horns as if they were wands, making both unicorns a bit dizzy after a while. Hermione had already learned that lesson, and tried to warn them. Naturally, they didn’t listen to the bossy unicorn.

37 — The Three Curses

Author's Notes:

The next eight chapters deal with the consequences of a bobby stumbling upon the ponies activities in Little Whinging, and Twilight's attempt to set up an embassy. The British government is not happy.

Some people like this temporary diversion, others do not. If you wish to skip it, jump to Chapter 45 (although you might want to read the first part of Chapter 44).

As a reminder, for those unfamiliar with metric/Imperial, here is a quick cheat: a meter is 3-inches longer than a yard, so when you see one, just use the one you are familiar with. For short distances, it won't make a difference (we are not doing rocket science here). A foot is 1/3 of a yard, so about 1/3 of a meter (30.48cm, actually). Six inches is 15cm. A mile is 1.6 km, so 1 km is about 2/3's of a mile.

They were at number Eleven Magnolia Road having breakfast when, with a pensive expression, Harry suddenly stopped and looked up at the transformed alicorn. “Twilight, I don’t understand.”

She put her fork back down and looked back at him surprised. “Understand what?”

Rarity and the girls looked up, listening.

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “I’ve read in the books about the night my parents died, and it just doesn’t make sense.”

Twilight nodded carefully, the hint of a smile appearing.

“They were supposedly hiding under this fidelius magic that requires a secret keeper. And this Sirius Black bloke was supposed to be that secret keeper. The books claim that he was an ‘inner circle’ member of the Death Eaters, cleverly hiding his true allegiance for all those years. That he was basically an undercover agent, and betrayed my parents to this Voldemort wizard on that Halloween night. And that everyone knew he was the secret keeper.”

She nodded again.

“But the books also say that he and my father thought of each other as brothers. That they made friends when they were eleven and were practically inseparable. They became such good friends that when Sirius had problems with his family, my father’s family had him move in with them. They all but officially adopted him.” Harry looked down for a moment. “My parents even made him my Godfather.” He looked up. “And the books say that he was a fierce fighter against the Death Eaters, capturing many in his duels, and just as fiercely denounced them as blood-thirsty animals. He even fought this Voldemort bloke several times. He appeared to despise the pure-blood fanatics. Many times he was heard saying that he would give his life for my father.

“His dedication and bravery in fighting also are mentioned many times, as is the fact that he didn’t seem to care for riches.” Harry shook his head.

“And the books say that that was all a charade, a pretence by a consummate actor.”

Harry sighed. “So, why would he betray my parents? It makes no sense. He didn’t need money, he had a comfortable inheritance from his uncle. He wasn’t afraid of the Death Eaters or Voldemort, he denounced both at every opportunity. He doesn’t seem to have been interested in power, either. And in the few wizarding pictures I’ve seen, he truly looks and acts as if he considered my father his best friend.” He looked up at Twilight, his eyes shining bright with unshed tears. “So, why would he do something like that?”

She patted her lips with a napkin. “Yes, I noticed that as well,” she said. “You’ll also notice that the books say he was sent to their prison almost immediately after he was captured. And he was laughing about killing your parents — totally at odds with what one might expect an undercover agent to do.” She had a quizzical expression.

“I would expect him instead to accuse this Peter Pettigrew of the crime. To pretend he hadn’t been the Potters’ secret keeper, and accuse Peter of being both the secret keeper and turncoat. That he had killed,” she shuddered slightly, “his former friend in revenge for the Potters. That he was completely innocent in the matter, and Pettigrew’s last words accusing him of the deed had been a desperate, last ditch effort to confound and escape Sirius Black. And that Peter Pettigrew had cast the final spell that had caused the explosion killing the non-magicals just before Sirius Black’s own fatal spell landed.” She shook her head.

“And that would be especially true with him knowing that he would be arrested and thrown into prison if he didn’t provide a competent cover story.”

She looked Harry in the eyes. “I find it interesting that no mention is made of testing his wand to see what spells he had been using, to see if he had caused that horrific explosion. Nor did they consider the possibility that he had been imperioused into doing it. Or that he might have been laughing because Peter Pettigrew hit him with a laughing charm during their duel.” She leaned forward. “It is also interesting that nopony asked him why he had done it.”

She nodded her head at Rarity. “Sounds almost like what happened to Zecora, doesn’t it? Ponies see something that scares them, and they jump to all sorts of conclusions that are wrong.”

Rarity nodded, as did the girls, wide-eyed at conversation.

“On the other hoof, that makes Sirius Black quite the actor, doesn’t it? Completely hiding his faithful allegiance to the evil wizard, starting when he was only eleven years old?” She paused. “I find it difficult to believe that he could fake a friendship such as is recorded with such ease, considering his age. Keeping a horrible secret, yes, that’s possible, but pretending to be something he is not? For over eight years, from before puberty through teenage angst to adult? With such a convincing effort that he fooled his parents into disowning him? Or if they did know, that they would so shabbily treat their own son in such a matter, and not even regret the actions when on their deathbeds? Without any of them even once making a mistake or slipping up?” She stopped, nodded, and said, “I doubt it.

“And even if he converted to the pure-blood philosophy after he left school, there still should have been something to indicate a change, some event that caused him to doubt his previous beliefs. Yet there is nothing to indicate why he would make such a dramatic turn-around in his attitude, to betray someone he had frequently called his brother.”

Harry looked up at her, anguish apparent in his expression. “If he really did do those things he’s accused of, then I want him to stay right where he is. He deserves nothing better.” The boy drew a shuddering breath. “But if he didn’t do them . . . .” He stared at her and whispered, “My Godfather.”

She smiled reassuringly at him. “I will see what we can do to find out what really happened. Starting with getting a witch solicitor. It might take a little time, but I’m sure we’ll be able to get you the answers you want. Maybe we can get Headmaster Dumbledore, in his capacity as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot,” she frowned and shook her head, “to help us in that. At the very least the villain should have a real trial!” She stood and walked around the table, bending down to engulf him in hug. “In the meantime, you have family right here!”

He hugged her back as the girls crowded around and made it a group hug.

Castor Searle looked at the paperwork on his desk and wished he were out on a case. He hated the paperwork that came with this job. On the other hand, he wasn’t jumping out of airplanes in the dead of night to exchange weapon’s fire with unseen opponents while trying to infiltrate enemy positions.

Still — he made an expression of revulsion — paperwork.

“Detective Inspector?”

Castor Searle looked up from his desk. “Ah, P.C. Havers. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you know that child abuse case we have in Little Whinging? Pulled them in about three weeks ago?”

He nodded. He certainly knew of it. It still pissed him off to think people could treat a child like that. On one hand, he was glad he wasn’t involved. Those cases were always depressing. On the other, he wished he could be the one to ensure the parents wouldn’t enjoy their next few years because they would be spending them at one of Her Majesty’s Resorts. Preferably one somewhere very cold, perhaps an island in the North Sea, with inadequate or no heating, bad food, and unpleasant guards who enjoyed making their charges miserable.

Not that any of the Queens properties fit that description. But one could dream, couldn’t they?

“I went around there earlier today, to check on the house? Maybe talk with the neighbours?”

He nodded again. Nothing wrong with checking back on a case. Make sure nobody had tried to vandalize the home of the “suspects.” Maybe even scrounge up a witness missed in the original canvass of the neighbourhood.

“Well, they’re all gone.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“The entire street is gone.”

He raised an eyebrow.

She flushed. “I mean, the houses are all empty except for a couple by the playpark. No cars in the garage drives. No furniture in the houses. And there’s something going on in the forest right there, too. There seems to be an inordinate amount of traffic. Foot traffic, that is. There’s a path into the woods that wasn’t there last month. Odd for an area people are moving away from.”

“And what did P.C. Stanford have to say? Little Whinging is his constabulary.” He paused. “You don’t think someone is trying to interfere with the witnesses, do you?”

“That was my first thought, too.” She sighed. “He says the entire estate seems to be moving out. But all our witnesses have left him with forwarding information, so we can contact them if we need to. They appeared quite happy to be moving, no real regrets at all.” She frowned. “He thinks it’s some big company buying up the land for an industrial site, but I don’t know. Something about it makes me . . . nervous. The few people I did meet there . . . well . . . they’re all foreigners. And they didn’t strike me as the business types. Far from it, in fact. They were all a bit too . . . focused, I guess I’d say.”

He sat still for a moment. In the Sport and Social you listened to those kinds of things. Usually, they meant nothing. But sometimes they did mean something. And when they did, you ignored them at your own peril.

He sighed. When he had been young and foolish, he had wanted adventure. He had wished for excitement.

And he had received his wish in the military, the Special Air Service, the S.A.S., the Sport and Social, as the members called it. For twenty years. He had learned the meaning of the first Chinese Curse of Life, “May your wishes be granted.”

Now, seven years after retirement, he wanted something a bit quieter. Not as strenuous. Or dangerous. And being a Detective Inspector in the Surrey Constabulary fit that nicely. Except for the paperwork. That he could do without.

He had the feeling, though, that once again, someone was going to get the short end of the stick and have a nastily unpleasant time of it. He just hoped it wasn’t going to be him. And yet, somehow, he kind of expected it to be him. Besides, as Tom in his old platoon used to say, “It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you!” and, “There’s no such thing as paranoia, just the cautious and the dead.”

Seeing his blank expression, she hurriedly added, “Yankees, if I had to guess.”

He stared at her a bit longer before pushing back from his desk. “Let’s have a look, then, shall we? I needed to take a breather from this paperwork, anyway.”

Half-an-hour later they were slowly cruising up the main street in Little Whinging. So far, nothing appeared amiss. The traffic might be lighter than normal for a small town, but there could be most anything responsible for that.

Cruising down Privet Drive through Wisteria Estate, though, was surreal. It wasn’t a gated estate, but it did have limited access through three streets, none a through-street. Just a small hundred-acre estate for suburbans who all worked in the London metro area.

It was mid-August, there should be children out and about on such a nice sunny Friday, as it was. Instead, there weren’t any signs of life at all. It was so quiet he could easily hear the traffic from the town centre.

He pulled over midway down Privet Drive and walked up to number Fourteen, P.C. Havers followed in his wake. Standing on the porch, he could see through the front widows that the sitting-room was completely devoid of furniture. He walked over to number Sixteen to see the same emptiness. He crossed the street to numbers Thirteen and Eleven. He looked back at number Four. A bobby had already removed the police crime-scene tape. It appeared as if the owners had just stepped out, the curtains closed. The only house on the street with curtains.

He looked down the street and frowned. The entire area was eerily quiet and empty. He half-expected spooky music to start playing in the background. Music like that in an alien-invasion film, with alien monsters hiding in the back-gardens and on the roofs. Spying on them and waiting for the chance to ambush them.

He couldn’t say why, but he knew he was being watched by unfriendly eyes.

They went back to the car and continued. They stopped in front of number Eleven Magnolia Road. Two streets over and it was one of three houses in the estate with curtains in the windows. The owner of the second house, on Wisteria Walk, had been out, apparently. The row of cats inside on the sitting-room window-sill had watched them carefully as the two officers looked around. He spotted another half-dozen under the bushes.

Perhaps they had been what set off his uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Cats did wander all over neighbourhoods, and he wouldn't see one hiding under a bush a few houses away.

Castor had been rather relieved, truthfully, that she was out. Cat-ladies were always a bit difficult to interview. They paid far more attention to their cats than any questions he asked. And, as far as he knew, she had nothing to do with the investigation into number Four Privet Drive.

Number Eleven, when he arrived at the door, had no cats in evidence. At least, not that he could see through the open curtains in the front window.

He knocked energetically on the door. After a brief wait, he knocked again. This time he heard someone moving about inside. He knocked again. After a moment, the door opened and a deeply-tanned woman appeared. She was of medium build, and tall enough to look him in the eyes. She wasn’t wearing heels. She appeared fit, as if she worked out on a regular basis, and he gauged her age at somewhere in the mid-twenties. Her dress appeared to be specially tailored, hugging her form, yet not being too tight, and was knee-length. From her points, it was obvious she wasn’t wearing underwear. The most striking things about her, though, were her lime-green eyes and bright-blue hair — hair which fell all the way to her waist.

“Hi! What can I do for you?” she said cheerily.

Dragging his attention from her . . . hair, he smiled and said, “Hello. I am Detective Inspector Castor Searle and this is P.C. Havers.” He nodded his head in her direction. “We noticed that this street seems to have a lot of vacant homes. I just wanted to let you know that we will be making regular patrols to discourage any vandalism.”

The house was dead silent behind her. Nothing to indicate anyone else was present. Nor were the radio or telly on. He idly wondered what she had been doing. She didn’t look as if she’d been having a lie-down.

“Oh! That’s good to know. Will the patrols be regular or random? Once a day or more often? Any particular times we should watch for?”

He blinked. That was an odd reaction. “Random, mostly. I expect perhaps once during the day and once in the late evening. Sometimes only once a day. If you happen to notice any people around the vacant houses, please let us know and we’ll send a patrol right around to check on things.”

She nodded. “That’s good to know. Thank you.” She stood smiling at him.

Something about her stance bothered him. Her hand on the door’s edge was for more than simply holding the door open. “You haven’t noticed anything in the last few weeks have you?” he said. “No strangers walking around and peering in houses or doing anything you might regard as suspicious?”

She gave him a cheeky grin, “Only yourself and the young lady.” She nodded to P.C. Havers.

He stared at her a moment before quirking up the corner of his mouth. “Well, yes.” He nodded. “It’s good to see that you are keeping your eyes open. We wouldn’t want any criminals setting up shop in a back-garden here, now would we?”

“I quite understand. We certainly wouldn’t want that.” she said agreeably, and gave him a wide smile. “And I’ll keep a sharp eye out for you. If I see anything you need to be concerned about, I’ll be sure to notify you.”

Something about the way she worded that set him on edge. And how had she known he had been looking in the windows of houses not even on this street? He nodded again and drew a card out of his pocket. “Here’s my office card, just give me a ring if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

She took the card and stared at it for a moment. “I will certainly do that, Detective Inspector Castor Searle.”

There was something unsettling about her.

“Well, thank you very much, Miss . . . ?”

Still smiling, she said, “Emerald Arrow.”

He stared at her, wondering briefly if she was having him on. But she seemed quite serious. “Well,” he said, “That was all I wanted to say. Good afternoon, Miss Arrow.” As he turned, he noticed her giving him a puzzled look. It was quick, just the slight creasing on her forehead, but it was there. What had he said to prompt that reaction? He and Havers headed back to the car.

He heard the door shut behind them. As he got into the car he could see her standing in the middle of the sitting-room, and peering out at them through the windows. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was watching them. She even gave them a friendly smile and a little wave.

Once more sitting in the car, he said, “Definitely an American accent there, but the name is most unusual. She doesn’t have the facial cast to be an American Indian — I wonder if it’s a stage name. The hair colour is a little unusual — unusually long, too. Don’t meet many women willing to put up with the time it takes for hair that long. Seems nice enough.” He looked Havers. “Odd reaction, though. Most people just acknowledge we are watching, they don’t ask us for the schedule.”

She nodded. “I noticed that. And she was watching both of us, not just you because you were the one talking.” She frowned. “In fact, she seemed to be watching me more than you.”

“Yes, I saw that, too. She’s had military training. Situational awareness. Not sure why she watched you instead of me as the higher rank.”

He pursed his lips, thinking. He started the car and drove into the layby in front of the playpark just a few meters down the street.

No kids at all in the park. Highly unusual for a sunny summer Friday. He got out and walked through the wrought-iron gates and over to the swings and slides. They had all been vandalized and needed repainting or repair. However, the damage wasn’t recent — he could tell by the faint signs of rust starting to show on the scratched metal. The grass, on the other hand, had been recently mowed, so the parks and recreation department had been by.

“We’re being watched.”

He looked over at Barbara. She was over by the teeter-totters. She tilted her head over towards a park bench. That was . . . different. There hadn’t been anyone there when they had pulled up. The man sitting on the bench at the opposite end of the park was wearing a casual suit that wouldn’t be out of place in any business in London. Here, in an empty park in an almost deserted neighbourhood? No, that wasn’t right. Where had he come from? He wasn’t from any of the nearby houses, that was for sure. They were all vacant. And a farm surrounded the rest of the playpark.

The man appeared to be just enjoying the sun, with only occasional glances in their direction. Oddly, he seemed more interested in watching Havers than Castor, the officer noticed, as she wandered over to look at the climbing bars.

Searle noted the path by the man’s bench that led from the playpark into the forest. For a moment, he thought he saw someone else farther down that path. He squinted slightly. It was difficult to see much in the comparatively dark forest. There didn’t appear to be anyone in there, though. He pursed his lips, thinking.

They went back to the car and Searle drove to the end of the street, onto another, then turned around and parked where they could see partially into the playpark. The park bench by the path was empty. He knew they were being watched.

He sat there mulling over what he seen. This was not just some big company buying property. A commercial enterprise would have obvious guards walking or driving through to protect their newly acquired property. At the very least they would have posted signs that the area was under regular surveillance to discourage any unsavoury characters from setting up shop or doing mischief.

These people were being secretive. Miss Emerald Arrow was not a simple housewife. They were being watched from cover.

He watched as a woman with bright-red waist-length hair crossed the street from number Eleven Magnolia Road and down the path by the bench into the forest. Her movements were not stealthy in the slightest. In fact, she stumbled on something he couldn’t see and almost fell.

He considered whether to explore the paths, both the one in the park and the one beside number Twenty-eight, the last house before the park on that side of the street. However, if something . . . illicit . . . was in progress, just the two of them stumbling upon it might lead to consequences they would regret. He needed more information before taking that particular course of action.

After another fifteen minutes, he drove down the street past the park. He slowed to take a look at the path that led into the forest across from number Twenty-eight. Again, he thought he saw someone farther inside the forest, but when he took a longer look, nothing was there.

Castor looked around the office of Title Deeds and Records as he walked up to the counter.

“What can I do for you governor?” Harris said.

Castor frowned at the flippant clerk. He handed him his card with Privet Drive, Magnolia Circle, and Wisteria Way written on it. “Could you get me the last month’s conveyances on these streets in the Wisteria Estate?”

“Something wrong?” asked the gossip.

“Nothing at all. A mate is looking for a house out this way. Thought I’d check the prices in Little Whinging. Seems a nice enough place.”

“Might be more difficult than you thought, D.I. Searle. Been a right lot of activity in Little Whinging this last month. Some big corporation is snapping ’em up left and right. Here it is!” He hit a button and a printer began buzzing below the counter. “Call themselves, ‘Royal Equestrian Properties,’ they do.” He stared at his terminal. “They’ve bought over a hundred properties in the last month! Even that farm that wraps the playpark. Odd thing though, they’re paying market values for all of them.” He looked up at Castor. “I’d expect housing prices to spike right quick once word got out about them acquiring, but they’re dead level, they are.”

He raised his eyebrows looking at the screen. “Spent quite a load of quid, they did, anyway! Four or five million if I’m adding this right. Blimey! Almost everything in a half-a-kilometre of the playpark is theirs, now.” He pulled the printed continuous-stationery pages from the printer’s basket and put them up on the counter.

“Ah, well, then,” Castor said wistfully, “I guess Little Whinging is right out. Still, the conveyance prices will be a help for budgeting.” He stepped back from the counter. “Thanks for your help.” He grabbed the pages, absentmindedly folding the edge perforations and tearing off the sprocket-hole strips. He dropped the waste in a bin by the door on his way out.

Castor looked at his watch. His shift had another hour. And the papers he had collected this afternoon were more than a bit unsettling. It was probably nothing, but, still . . . .

He parked the cruiser down the street where he could see the front of number Eleven Magnolia Road while being out of sight of the residents unless they physically stepped outside.

And absolutely nothing happened for over two hours. No cars, no lorries, no people. He might have been in a ghost-town if it weren’t for the sounds from the town centre, not that far away. At seven, four children and two adults came out of the house. Neither of the two adults, he noted, were Emerald Arrow. Both were attractive and had waist-length hair — one’s hair was purple and the other a dark-purple with a pink stripe. He watched them cross the street into the forest.

They hadn’t returned after half-an-hour and it was starting to get dark. What could they be doing? Camping in that part of the forest was illegal. He started the engine and drove down the street. He stopped briefly in front of the house. It was completely dark, no lights on at all. It might as well be as vacant as the other houses on the street.

He pulled forward towards the park and looked at the dirt path.

Emerald Arrow was standing there. The street light there was out, the only one out in the entire development. But she was still clearly visible — it wasn’t completely dark, yet. And there was only darkness behind her, no signs of a campfire or any other illumination. Where had those people gone?

He pulled across the street and rolled down the window.

She smiled at him, stepped up to the car, bent down, and said, ‘One of your random patrols?’

He grinned back at her, trying to put her at ease. He pointedly did not look at what was on display. He hadn’t realized the neck of her dress plunged quite that far, nor that it was so loose, when they had met earlier. “That’s right. Might as well get off to a good start!”

She looked down the street, then back at him and said, “Don’t get much patrolling done if you’re stopped at the end of the street for two and a half hours.”

“Just familiarizing myself with the area,” he explained.

She nodded cordially, and said, “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

He stared at her a moment.

Then she said, “Well, next time you’re in the neighbourhood, say tomorrow at ten, drop in for tea. You might meet someone important.”

“Really?” he said.

She nodded amiably. “Yes. I suggest you be on time.”

He sighed. “I’ll be seeing you, then,” he said.

“Yes,” she said as she straightened, “you will.” She stepped back, still smiling.

He drove back to the station, deep in thought.

Perhaps it was all his imagination. Perhaps it was coincidence. Perhaps it was all above-board and he was reading things into an innocent situation. Perhaps he was the Queen.

38 — Dear God! It’s a Rabbit-hole!

Author's Notes:

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Castor hopped off the double-decker and headed down the street. It was a short walk to the Sport and Social Club building, officially named the Special Air Service Retireds’ Regimental Club. He stepped inside.

“Sergeant Searle, it’s been some time since you visited us last,” said the official doorman.

“Too true, Corporal Johnson, too true. But needs must, you know.” He handed the man his umbrella and light coat. He straightened his tie in the mirror by the closet and brushed down his shirt and waistcoat. “Is the Colonel in?”

“Yes, sir, I believe he’s in the Red smoking room upstairs. Shall I see if he’s engaged?”

“Yes, please.”

Castor walked into the main lounge and looked over the room. Most of the occupants were engrossed in either their newspapers or quiet conversation.

“The Colonel will see you now,” Johnson said behind him.

The ex-Sergeant nodded his head and followed him.

“Ah, Sergeant Searle, what a surprise,” said the silver-haired man holding what was probably a whiskey in his hand, “Haven’t seen you since your last promotion in Surrey.” He was seated in a comfortable armchair, with a bottle and a second glass, already filled, on the table beside him. “What brings you to me today?” He gave Castor a quick up and down look. “And formal, too.”

“Well, sir, I’ve seen something that makes me a tad nervous. It’s probably just my imagination, but . . . .” He shook his head. “Nothing illegal, what I’ve checked is all above board. But it just doesn’t sit right.” He handed the Colonel the printout of property sales in Little Whinging and sat in the chair across from him.

The Colonel put down his glass and gestured to Searle to take the full glass on the table, then sat back and began perusing the papers. Castor took a sip. Yes, it was whiskey. He sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees as he waited for the officer’s reaction. When the Colonel looked up and arched an eyebrow, he explained what he had seen when he visited Wisteria Estate in Little Whinging earlier that day.

“Interesting story,” the Colonel said, topping off Castor’s whiskey glass from the decanter.

“Uh huh.” He took another sip. “Everything seems to be going through this conveyance solicitor, Lin Yueshi. I checked with PC Stanford, he knows the man. Says he’s been straight, as far as he knows. No problems and never been in trouble — not a difficult feat when all you do is handle conveyances, but still . . . .

“And then I have to wonder how they managed to get everyone to sell. I’d expect several to dig in their heels and say no, or hold out for more quid. But the records indicate they all sold for normal market values. Which is not normal. Someone always wants more.”

He frowned at his glass. “On the other hand, this Yueshi was the one who set us on the Dursleys. Said he had a confidential source that something very bad had been going on there for several years.” He looked up at the Colonel. “You might have missed that, it hasn’t hit the papers yet in any detail. Don’t know why.” He shook his head. “An orphan boy living with abusive relatives. Straight out of Dickens. Nobody’s seen the boy in a year. Word is he ran away.” He scowled. “Enough blood stains to make ya wonder if he didn’t.” He shook his head. “They’re currently at Her Majesty’s pleasure, waiting trial.”

He took another sip. “There’s more to this solicitor than anyone knows, I say. P.C. Stanford says he claimed client privilege when he asked for a bit more information about the buyer. Just said they wanted the properties for a big, and legal, project.”

Then he explained what had happened when he had returned to Magnolia Road that evening before coming here.

The Colonel was holding his whiskey glass up before him, rolling it back and forth between his palms, deep in thought.

“Colonel, there’s something really dodgy going on here. She knew I was watching, but the angle I was at would have required her to step outside and look. I would have seen her. And she didn’t. I would have said someone rang her up, but the houses within sight were all vacant. Or are supposed to be. She could have hopped over fences in the back-gardens until she could see me, but then she would have had to know I was there in the first place. If she was in the forest, then why would she just stand in the forest watching me for two hours?”

He sighed. “There are a half-dozen ways she could have known I was there, but none of them are things a civilian should think about or do.

“And just how did she know P.C. Havers and I had stopped to look in the houses on Privet Drive and Wisteria Way?”

He took a deep breath. “Well. I know there’s nothing you can do, it’s just that I thought someone should know, just in case.” He shook his head. “Give me a HALO any day over this crap.”

The colonel grinned at him. “I understand completely. Give me a straight up fight and I’m fine. Creeping around in the dark when you don’t know who or what to trust? Nuh-uh. Don’t like that at-all.” He sighed and became serious. “Look, I’ll contact a few friends and see if I can find anything. Hopefully, it’s all just some industrial manoeuvring and nothing serious.” He finished his whiskey. “Ring up your Chief Inspector and let him know. Take a P.C. with you for backup, and a sergeant, if your Chief will allow it. As you say, it’s probably nothing. Let me know how it turns out.”

Castor hoped he wasn’t about to hit the second Chinese Curse of Life — “May you live in interesting times.”

Harry and the fillies had settled into a simple routine. They spent their nights in Little Whinging and the days at the Weasleys, playing and practicing magic, where, to their great delight, sap was not involved.

The adult Equestrians took turns staying with them in Little Whinging — or Little Whinnying, as Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash liked to call it — almost always with Twilight. Rarity and Applejack took turns. Sometimes one of Scootaloo’s aunts would join them. Twilight and Blueblood spent their days working on the embassy problem, sometimes with the help of one of the others when they weren't working their jobs in Equestria. Or the mares took additional shopping expeditions in both new worlds. Harry didn't have to guess who led the attacks on the bookstores!

Applejack did take Ron into the orchard one day and spent it teaching him about earth-pony magic. Ron didn’t mind the lessons, as he was learning magic that only he, as an earth-pony, could do! And the orchard had never looked better, according to his father.

Their finding and helping to ripen several whortleberry bushes had made Mrs. Weasley very happy. Getting an entire harvest at once instead of across several weeks meant she could make several pies instead of the occasional small tarts she had always had to do before. Not to mention the time saving in trekking back and forth. Ginny was especially pleased, as she and Ron usually had the chore of picking them.

The Weasleys, and the Quidditch team, were curious about ‘Atlantis.’ And the Equestrians were curious about the wizarding world. Questions were asked, and answered. It wasn’t difficult for the Equestrians to not mention the name for their homeland as most everything they talked about was in Ponyville or something they had heard about in Canterlot. Apple Bloom did mention Appleloosa a few times because of her cousins.

Ginny no longer ran from the room when Harry arrived — her pegasus form seemed to have given her new confidence. However, she tended to squeak whenever she came across him unexpectedly. Or he, her.

Two days after Ginny and the quidditch team had learned to switch to their animagus forms, Scootaloo had had a sleep-over with the girls so she could teach them the proper methods to groom and care for their new feathery appendages. Then the four of them had cornered Oliver the next morning and proceeded to embarrass him half to death by showing him, and having him practice on them. The older girls seemed to find it hilarious, to the younger two’s confusion.

It was a necessary skill, after all. And very relaxing when someone else was doing the work. Fingers, Scootaloo discovered, were marvellously efficient at that particular task.

The twins running commentary had been funny, Harry had thought, until Oliver grabbed his wand and chased them away with threats of unrelenting quidditch practices once they got back to school.

Tonight was going to be another sleepover, this time for all of the younger kids — Ron and Harry in one bedroom while the five girls had a different one. Although, if they were going to be using the trunks’ bedrooms because they were bigger than the Weasleys’ bedrooms, was the sleepover at Little Whinging or at the Weasleys?

Miss Arrow opened the door as he walked up to it. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” she said. She made a show of leaning to the side and looking at his car. “P.C. Barbara Havers couldn’t make it, I assume.” The curtains in the windows were drawn, so he couldn’t see into the sitting-room.

He smiled at her wanly, “No, I didn’t want to disturb her day off.” Actually, she was in a van with P.C. Stanford. They were parked near Little Whinging centre and monitoring the radio wire he was wearing.

“That’s too bad,” the woman said. “It might have been better if she were here, too.” She opened the door wide and gestured he should come in. “Come in, some important people are waiting for you.”

With more than a little trepidation, Castor stepped inside. She pointed into the sitting-room as he walked past her. She closed the door, and followed him into the sitting-room. He stopped and looked at the six people gathered in there. One woman was standing by the fireplace, a slightly older man in his late twenties was seated in the armchair beside the fireplace to Castor’s left, three young women were on a couch against the wall on the right, and a gentleman of about the same age as Castor was standing beside the couch. Searle estimated that the young women were all of barely college age.

Miss Arrow stepped in front of him and bowed to the attractive standing woman, who had waist-length dark-purple hair with a pink stripe slightly to the right of the middle. The woman was wearing an expensive and finely tailored dress, in subtle shades of blue, with white stars scattered across the bottom. Like Miss Arrow’s dress, and the dresses worn by the other women, it reached to her knees in length. She looked at Castor inquisitively and seemed a little nervous.

“Your Highnesses, Ladies, allow me to introduce Detective Inspector Castor Searle,” Miss Arrow said in a formal tone.

Castor felt his eyebrows shoot up.

Miss Arrow turned to face him, “Detective Inspector Castor Searle, I would like you to meet Her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she swept her arm to indicate the standing woman.

He nodded at her, “Pleased to meet you, your Highness.” He bowed. He had no idea what these people were playing at, but he could play along until he got the true lay of the land.

“And it is a pleasure to meet you, too, Detective Inspector Castor Searle,” she said, nodding her head back at him. “Please call me Twilight.” She paused a second, then added. “I find the title to be tiresome.”

He nodded again, but before he could say anything, Miss Arrow continued with her introduction. “This is his Highness, Prince Blueblood.”

The man, seated in an old armchair, had long straight golden-blonde hair spilling half-way down his sides. He had a bored expression and a tea cup in his hand. He was wearing a tailored charcoal-grey three-piece suit with a rose-red boutonniere. Castor didn’t recognize the flower, but the way it seemed to slightly shimmer in the light was unusual. He also recognized the aristocratic air the man had. This man was noble-born. Or a very good actor. Time would tell.

“A pleasure to meet you, your Highness,” Castor said.

He got a sniff and a bored, “Of course it is,” in response.

“Lady Rarity,” Miss Arrow said next. She indicated a purple-haired beauty wearing a yellow and pink dress sitting on the couch. Lady Rarity had a rose-coloured light shawl that colour-coordinated perfectly with her dress.

He smiled at her and offered a soft, “A pleasure, I’m sure.” He got a demure smile in return and a “Nice to meet you” response.

“Lady Rainbow Dash,” was the woman beside Lady Rarity, another lovely young woman who had, literally, a rainbow of colours in her hair and wore a dress to match. She had a look in her eye, as if she were about to challenge him to a race — which was a very odd thing for Castor to think. “Hiya,” she said before he could open his mouth. He nodded to her and gave her a “Nice to meet you” response

He noticed the edges of Prince Blood’s mouth turn down in disapproval at the young woman’s casual attitude.

“Lady Applejack,” Miss Arrow continued. This pretty young woman had pale-yellow hair and wore a green dress decorated with apples. And was seated beside the other two women. Incongruously, she was wearing an American-style Western hat. “Howdy pardner,” she said in a thick southwestern American accent, standing and holding out her hand. He shook it, responding with a simple, “Hello, nice to meet you.” She sat back down. He had to wonder about the accent. It was so out of place with the others. And why she was the only one to stand and shake his hand.

“And this is Solicitor Lin Yueshi, Esquire,” she concluded. The man stepped forward and held out his hand. He was probably Chinese, Castor guessed. And not a piker, as his strong grip confirmed. “A pleasure to meet you,” said the man.

“And to meet you,” replied Castor.

The D.I. took a moment to look around the room. It was decidedly out of step with the people in it. It looked more as if an old spinster lived here and not obviously very rich nobles. What was going on here?

Another woman came into the sitting-room from the short hall. She had probably been in the kitchen. She whispered something to Miss Arrow, who made a face of displeasure and turned to Searle. “Excuse me, Detective Inspector Castor Searle, but are you trying to allow others to listen in to our conversation?”

Castor froze in place. They had detected the radio signal? “I’m sorry, what do you mean?”

She nodded at his response, as if she had expected it. “Would you please step outside for a moment and reassure your colleagues that everything is fine? They are getting a bit agitated that your signal cut off the moment you stepped inside.” She gave him a significant look. “We wouldn’t want there to be any incidents, now would we?”

He felt his face heat up as he blushed, he was a soldier and detective, not an undercover agent or spy. He cleared his throat, “Certainly.” He followed her to the door and then stepped outside under her watchful eye.

“P.C. Havers,” he said. “I’m fine. They have some sort of signal-blocking device inside the house, so you’ll just have to be patient.” A police car turned the corner at the far end of the street. He stepped farther out and waved, smiling. The car cruised up and stopped. The officers inside gave him a questioning look. He nodded and gave them the hand signal that he wasn’t in any danger. He used his body to block it from being seen by the woman, who was clearly a bodyguard of some kind. After a long look at him, they nodded and left.

As he stepped past her into the house, Miss Arrow said, “Don’t worry, I would have done the same. Glad to see you’re being professional about things.”

‘Prince’ Blue Blood was giving him the stink-eye when he stepped back into the sitting-room, however. He noticed that Miss Arrow took a position straddling the boundary between the hall and the sitting-room and watching both the front door and him. Much the way a professional body-guard would.

‘Princess’ Twilight Sparkle smiled at him. “Please sit,” she indicated an armchair by the windows and across the room from the fireplace. “I’m happy to see you’re taking this seriously. We’re hoping you’ll be able to help us with a problem.”

“How so?” he said as he sat.

“Well,” she glanced uncertainly at her friends. “As you noticed, the houses on this street are all vacant. So are the ones on the streets around us.” She paused and looked at him.

“Yes, I know.” He knew that pretending he didn’t know more would be a mistake. “A company by the name of ‘Royal Equestrian Properties’ seems to have bought them all. Your company, I would guess.”

She smiled broadly. “Excellent! You’ve done your homework.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “I have to give you a bit of background, and it’s going to be hard to believe. We can prove it all, but that’s for later.”

He nodded.

“We come from a foreign country, and we want to establish an Embassy with your fine country. The problem is, your Foreign Office refuses to believe we are a sovereign nation wanting to establish an embassy.”

The solicitor was nodding.

“They told us to have an Ambassador from a country we have relations with to make an appointment to meet with the proper authorities. Then she can introduce our Ambassador, who in turn, would then tender our Ambassadorial papers.” She shook her head. “We don’t know any Ambassadors to assist us. Hence, we can’t make an appointment, except at the lowest levels, and that appointment would be several months away, if ever.”

She nodded her head. “We could just appear in front of Buckingham Palace, but that would undoubtedly cause a panic. The same is true if we simply went to the newspapers with our request. Except some people would say it was a hoax, and then things would get tiresome. In both cases, I’m afraid we would be swamped here with curiosity seekers. It could quickly get out of hand. And we might end up with a situation neither of us wants.” She looked back at him.

“That’s why we were so pleased to hear that you had noticed the vacant houses and had stopped by. If you were to relay our request up your chain of command, with appropriate proofs, it shouldn’t take too long before the Foreign Office was informed and then we could present our Ambassadorial papers and get the ball rolling!”

To Castor’s surprise, she actually hopped in place. He stared at her, stunned. For all the expensiveness and fine tailoring of her dress, it was apparent she wasn’t wearing any underwear support. He blinked.

“You represent a foreign government that no one has ever heard of?” he asked incredulously. The Foreign Office had a list of every country in the world. If a solicitor showed up asking to make an appointment for his client to present Ambassadorial papers, all they had to do was look at that list, and set an appointment. If the country wasn’t listed, then they would call it a prank and toss the man out the door. If he made enough of a nuisance of himself, they would arrest him.

She stopped bouncing and sighed.

“Yes. And that’s where it gets complicated.” She looked at him, her head tilted slightly. “When I say a foreign country, I mean a foreign country on a different world. Equestria is the largest country on our world, Equus.”

“World?” He was sure his eyebrows couldn’t be any higher. “Then, how did you get here?” he said sceptically. He almost asked if they had a flying saucer in the back garden.

She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the forest across the street. “We discovered a portal between our worlds. It’s rather small, just big enough for someone to walk through. But it’s there. That’s why we’re buying all these properties — so no one accidentally comes across it before we’re ready. And we will have ample room to protect it once word does get out.”

He sat, blinking. This was straight out of a science fiction film — Time Bandits or Evil Dead came to mind — without the bizarre appearances and equally bizarre circumstances. Although there were the striking hair colours. “So, you’re aliens?” Except for their brilliantly-coloured hair, they didn’t look any different from any other person he had ever seen. In fact, they looked a lot more mainstream human than some of the people he had run into during his time in Sport and Social!

The one with rainbow-coloured hair snickered. “Oh, yeah,” she said, “that’s an easy one.”

“Dash!” said the Princess, firmly.

“Awww,” Dash cajoled, “Come on, this is boring! Let’s just show him, already.”

The Princess sighed. The Prince rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like “Uncouth commoners.” He looked even more bored than before, giving the impression he would rather be almost anywhere else. And that he was here only because he had no choice in the matter.

“Right,” the Princess said, more to herself than anyone else. She looked back at Castor. “We really are aliens to this world. There really is a portal between our worlds in the forest over there.” She again pointed in that direction. “And we look nothing like we appear to you.” She smirked. “In fact, I’ve been told that we are quite ‘adorable.’”

The solicitor gave him a half-smile. “They are, indeed, adorable,” he said wryly. “I thought they were a telly show pranking me when we first met last month.” He looked levelly at Castor. “They are telling the truth.”

“Can I now?” asked Dash eagerly, “Can I? It’s the quickest way to convince him short of tossing him through the portal like we did Linny here!”

The Princess sighed. “Okay,” she said resignedly, “Go ahead.”

“YEAH!” shouted the woman on the couch.

He stared in complete disbelief as a small horse appeared on the couch where the woman had been sitting, still wearing her dress. She was blue-furred, with a rainbow-coloured mane and tail. She had no sooner appeared, then she launched herself into the air and hovered, her wings flapping lazily. He could see that slits in the back of her dress allowed her wings to come out without hindrance. He leaned back in shock as she flew around the room, breaking almost every law of physics he was aware of — and probably a few he wasn’t. And she couldn’t have been more than a meter tall, from hooves to the top of her head. He had never heard of horses that small.

“Oh, Celestia, this feels good.” She hovered in front of the Princess. “Sitting there without wings was just killin’ me,” she said, rolling her eyes in exaggeration.

He heard a sigh from the couch, drawing his attention. As soon as he looked, Lady Rarity turned into a small white horse with a poufy purple mane and tail. And a horn on her forehead. She was a bloody unicorn! She jumped down from her place on the couch and posed.

His wife was going to think he had gone off his trolley when he told her of this.

Lady Apple Jack laughed at his expression, and transformed into a small orange horse with a pale-yellow mane. She had neither wings nor a horn, but her hat remained in place. And seemed oddly suiting for her.

The dresses for the . . . ponies, were draped across their bodies. Their previous knee-lengths meant the fronts of the skirts now hung down almost to the floor.

The Princess spoke again, “And there you see three of the seven major pony races in Equestria: Unicorn,” Lady Rarity lifted her head proudly, “Pegasus . . . ,”

“That’s me,” said the flying horse, zipping over to him and then back.

“. . . and Earth.” Lady Apple Jack, her hat still on her head, just sat on the couch, much as a cat or dog sits upright, and grinned at him.

Flummoxed at what he was seeing, he said the only thing he could think of at the moment to the Princess, “Which one are you?”

She sighed. “I was a unicorn, but I recently ascended to the rarest type of pony in our world — there are only four of us — I’m an alicorn.” Almost reluctantly, she changed into a purple horse with both wings and a horn. “That makes me a member of the Royal family.” She was a little bit larger than the other three.

Castor turn his eyes towards ‘Prince’ Blue Blood. The man rolled his eyes. “I am not an entertainer to perform parlour tricks on request,” he said snootily in a refined accent, “Especially not to commoners.” He took a sip of his tea. “I am a unicorn and a member of the Royal Family. And I am Princesses Celestia’s and Luna’s chosen Ambassador to your barbaric world. That is all you need to know.”

“Blueblood!” the Princess said sharply.

The man tsked, rolled his eyes, and looked up at the curtains. His expression settled back into that of someone incredibly bored. The other horses gave the man disapproving looks and grumbled.

The Detective Inspector turned to look at Miss Arrow.

She grinned and said, “I’m on duty.”

The solicitor came over and held out a cup of tea in a saucer with one hand. “I think you might need this.” When Castor looked at him, he smiled and tilted his other hand so that Castor could see the small shot-bottle of whiskey concealed therein before dropping it into his pocket. Searle looked up at the solicitor, who nodded while arching an eyebrow. “I needed a rather stiff drink after first meeting them, too,” he said softly.

Gratefully, Castor took the proffered saucer and took a sip from the cup. He nodded. “Thanks.” Then he drained the cup. The burn as it went down felt wonderfully bracing.

“Think nothing of it.” He could hear the amusement in the Oriental’s voice.

Castor thought about what he now knew. Aliens. Honest-to-god aliens. And another world accessible through a portal. The implications were so far above his paygrade he couldn’t even calculate where to start! His mind was spinning in so many directions that it might as well have been blank.

And they really were the cutest things he had ever seen.

He heard one of the horses — no, she had said ponies, they were ponies — say, “He’s awfully quiet. Do you think we broke him?”

The solicitor cleared his throat. “No, just thinking deeply.”

Castor looked up from his empty tea cup. “Mind if I ring someone up? Invite them over?”

The Princess looked at him and shook her head, “Nope, go right ahead. We cleared the day for this.”

“Thank you,” he said. He stood and walked over to the telephone and started dialling. He kept his back to the ponies and people, and would try to keep his voice low. The telephone was probably bugged, anyway, he reflected.

Aliens had “landed” in England. And their heads barely reached his belly button. He stared at the staircase wall in front of him as the phone on the other end rang. They were going to throw the entire world into turmoil. And ground zero was right here in the nondescript little town of Little Whinging, Surrey, England. And, god help him, he was in the middle of it.

He had well and truly fallen into the rabbit-hole. The only question left was . . . .

39 — How Deep Is It?

“S.A.S. Regimental Club.”

“Hello. Is the Colonel in? This is Sergeant Searle”

“I will see if he is engaged.” Castor waited for a minute or so for the Club’s Corporal to check, and deliver a phone if he was.
There was a loud click as the receiver was lifted. “Colonel Thiessen here.”

“Ah, Colonel? I was hoping you’d be in.”

“Have you concluded your appointment?”

“Actually, I am there right now, sir. Number Eleven Magnolia Road, Little Whinging.”

“Indeed.”

“Uh-huh, it’s much more than what we thought. Could you come out here? It’s rather important.”

“Is it now?” He could hear the doubt and annoyance in the man’s voice.

“Yes, sir. These people are, well, I can say without fear of exaggeration, that this is a matter of national security . . . and the Foreign Office.”

He heard a heavy sigh.

“And before you ask, yes. Yes, I’m sober. Very sober. Much more so than I want to be, if you want to know the truth.

“And what is it that is so important?”

It was his turn to sigh. “If I tried to tell you, you’d think I had been drinking . . . I can assure you that the Prime Minister and the Queen will have to be briefed. And it involves an Ambassador from a foreign country.”

“Is that so?” came the reserved response.

“You can have my pension if you think I’m wrong.”

“If this indeed is a matter of national security . . .”

“It is. Very, very, much so, sir.”

“Then I will need to make a few phone calls and bring some others with me.”

He turned and asked, “Can he bring some people with him?”

The Princess looked at her friends and shrugged. “Sure,” she looked around the room and smiled, “Just remember, we aren’t exactly in a lecture hall here.”

He turned to face the staircase again. “Yes, bring whom you want, but not too many, we are in a small-house sitting-room . . . and bring cameras. Lots of cameras.”

“Cameras. For evidence, I assume? It’ll be about two hours.”

“That’s correct. About two hours? . . . See you then.” He hung up and turned to face them again.

“He has to make a few phone calls, and then he’ll be right over. He’s in London, so it’ll take about two hours for him to get here. Mind if I bring P.C. Havers up to speed?”

“No. No, I don’t mind at all — why don’t you invite her in?” the Princess suggested.
He stepped outside, Miss Arrow just behind him. “Hey, P.C. Havers. I’m just checking in. This is so far out of our jurisdiction, it’s not funny. I used the phone inside to kick it upstairs. Someone will be here in about two hours.”

He turned and went back inside, Miss Arrow again following him. Seeing their questioning looks, he said, “She wouldn’t come in, anyway. Standard Operating Procedure. It might be a trap.”

They all nodded in understanding. “That’s too bad,” said the Princess. She sighed, “But I understand the reasoning. That would be something Chrysalis would do.” She looked up at him. “Set a trap, I mean. Fortunately, we have no interest in setting traps.” The little purple pony began trotting in place. “There is just so much to learn!” She spun in place.

The flying one, Lady Dash, snickered, “Don’t let her in your national Library, we’d never get her out of it!”

The orange one, Lady Jack, he thought, laughed and said, “She’s already figure’d out it would take a hunerd and fourteen years to read all yer books!” She paused, then muttered, “And I wouldn’t put it past her to try.”

The Princess stopped trotting and stomped her hoof. “Girls, that’s over twenty times the number of books in the Royal Canterlot Library! And they publish more books in a week than we do in a year!”

Lady Rarity said, “Twilight, you’ve already shipped home more books than the sociologists can read in a year!”

Lady Dash laughed again, “Yeah, I thought that bookstore manager was gonna pee his pants when you gave him that order for five thousand books. And then paid him in bits in advance.”

“But he was such a gentlestallion, delivering them to us himself when they arrived,” said Lady Rarity approvingly.

Lady Dash snorted, “And got an order for another thousand books for his trouble!”

Castor stared at them. This was terrible. They had been here for weeks and were basically looting the human world’s knowledge. Sure, they were paying for everything, but they now had far more intelligence on the humans than the humans could possibly get in return in years!

He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind my asking, just how advanced are you, compared to us?”

They stopped their arguing over whether or not the Princess was too enthusiastic about books and turned back to him. He noticed that Prince Blood was now watching him instead of staring off into the distance.

The Princess frowned. “Well, in some areas we are clearly far ahead of you — while you know far more about viruses and bacteria and their transmission, we can cure most diseases without difficulty. Cancer, which seems to be a big issue for you, is a simple potion-cure if we can catch it early enough.” She sighed, “Although we do still lose a pony to it every now and then. We can regrow lost limbs, as well. If we can get someone to a healer fast enough, we can almost always save them, no matter what their affliction.” She smiled proudly. “It helps that we’re very durable. From what we’ve seen on your telly, you people are extremely fragile. Crashes that would leave one of us slightly dazed seem to kill you outright.”

She started trotting in place again, “However, your advances in in vitreo fertilization are simply stunning! And operating on foetuses to fix problems before birth? Astounding!”

She sighed and stood still. “On the other hoof, militarily, we are far behind you. Most of our guards train with spears and crossbows.” She smiled. “We do have fireworks, but not rockets, rifles, or cannons. We’ve never needed anything more advanced to deal with our enemies, so we never pushed any farther.” She smirked. “In fact, I know of one recent war that was settled by a pie fight.” She shuddered. “I cannot imagine needing something as terrible as one of your nuclear weapons.”

He stared at her incredulously. “A pie fight?” he repeated weakly. Was she kidding him?

She nodded. “And we do have a railroad system. It’s not as extensive as yours, and we use steam engines. As for flight, well, one-third of our population flies, so it has never really been an issue. I do have a balloon I use sometimes, though. And there are a few blimps in commercial use. Some nobles use them as air-going yachts, too. But we have nothing like your commercial jets.” She hummed for a moment. “We’ve just never seen the need for that much speed, I guess.”

“Jets, phht,” Lady Dash said disparagingly. “I’m the fastest pegasus in Equestria.” She flew up almost into his face. “I can clear a sky of clouds in ten seconds, flat!”

“Clouds,” he repeated, bewildered, “Ten seconds?”

“Oh, yes,” the Princess continued, “We control almost all the weather, with only occasional freak storms coming in from the Everfree Forest or the oceans.” She frowned as she looked over at the curtained windows. “That’s actually one of the hardest things for us to get used to here — the weather here is so random. We would never allow a tornado to do so much damage.” She shuddered. “And I can’t remember the last time I heard of a rainstorm causing a flood. We would disperse such a storm long before it endangered any lives.” She looked over and up at Dash, who was hovering just below the ceiling. “We’ll be doing the Running of the Leaves to usher in Fall in a few weeks.”

Lady Dash zoomed over to hover in front of Lady Jack. “I’m gonna beat you this year, just you wait!”

Apple Jack rolled her eyes. “You’all keep telling yerself that, honey.”

Rainbow Dash just glared at her.

“And then there’s quantum physics,” Twilight said, ignoring the two squabbling ponies. Lady Dash had landed and the two were now pushing back and forth against one another like a couple rugby rivals, as the Prince watched disapprovingly. “It sounds remarkably similar to our theories. The String theory proposed by your scientists is quite interesting and would explain some things that we’ve been puzzling over the last hundred years. I think that if we cooperate we might be able to pull together a complete universal theory of everything that will fit all the observational evidence we have.”

“And we’ve confirmed the multi-world theory, as well as time-travel.” She shuddered. “Time travel is just . . . too . . . paradoxical.”

He knew his mouth was hanging open. Militarily, they were at the bow-and-arrow era, yet their medicine out-stripped the dreams of almost every doctor in the world, and they had an understanding of quantum theory that only the most highly-developed modern countries could afford to research. Plus, they could CONTROL THE BLOODY WEATHER! A bloody deep rabbit-hole, indeed!

“So, back in your home world, you’re mostly herbivories and only pegasi eat meat with any regularity?”

“That’s correct,” said Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Castor had heard of horses eating meat on occasion, but it was still a surprise to hear that these . . . ponies . . . did so, too. So, he supposed, it shouldn’t be all that outrageous to hear that while they were in their human forms, they also ate meat. They might not be completely comfortable, emotionally, doing so, but they did do it. Then again, there had been a few dishes served to him when he was overseas with the Sport and Social that he would rather not think about.

He glanced down at the two pony heads lying on his thighs. He wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened.

The two ponies had been in the midst of their continuing shoving match — to Prince Blood’s obvious disdain and disgust — when they stumbled over to his chair. Reflexively, as with a big dog, he had reached out to push them away. By accident, he had done what he would have done with any friendly large dog, He had started scratching one of them, Dash, he thought, behind the ear, as a distraction.

Her eyes had gone wide and she had immediately leaned into it. He had been surprised that she hadn’t started purring. Lady Jack had watched, puzzled, until Lady Dash had groaned and said, “Oh Celestia! This is fabulous.” And twisted her head so he could scratch the other ear.

A second later, he was using both hands. He had gone down the back of their necks, in their manes, to much moaning and wriggling in place. And startled looks from the Princess and Lady Rarity. When he started scratching at the base of Dash’s wings, he had thought she was going to melt to the floor. Followed, a second later, by her murmured, “Marry me!”

Which had led to his current predicament. Trapped in his chair by two ponies who weighed as much as he did. He would have liked a refill on his tea, but every time he stopped massaging an ear, the owner of said ear would growl. And open one eye to glare at him. Currently, the orange one had him scratching her back just below her shoulder blades.

Meanwhile, he had time to reflect that the ponies didn’t need high-tech weapons to conquer humanity. With those soulful eyes, fluffy coats, and overall adorable appearance, people would walk into their cages without complaint, all the while cooing at how adorable and cute their captors were. Of course, the humans could retaliate by refusing to give tummy rubs and ear scratches unless the ponies capitulated, in turn. It would be a Mexican Standoff — or would that be a stalemate? — situation.

A woman walked up behind Miss Arrow and whispered in her ear. Miss Arrow then went to the Princess said something. Princess Twilight nodded and looked over at the Detective Inspector. “Your friends should be here in a few moments.” She gave him a tight smile. “They seem to have brought reinforcements, who are waiting just outside the neighbourhood.”

He nodded slowly. “I kind of expected that.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I suppose I did too.”

“Excuse me, Ladies, but I’m needed,” he said looking down at his two lap-weights.

“Aww,” Lady Dash said disappointedly, “Do you have to? You can wait a few more minutes . . . .”

Lady Jack just sighed deeply and said, “Come on, Dash, might as well change back to people again.” Suiting actions to words, he had a young woman leaning against his legs. Unfortunately, he now had his hand very inappropriately partway down the back of her dress. He jerked his hand back, and felt his face turn hot as he blushed. She gave him a questioning look, clearly not understanding the impropriety of where he had had his hand.

He hoped no one ever mentioned it to his wife — he doubted she would be as blasé about the incident. She was rather territorial.

Dash sighed in turn and slowly straightened before turning back into a person, as well. “Oh,” she said contentedly, “That was wonderful! Twi, you have to hire one of these guys as official ear-scratcher at the palace!” She sighed again.

“Y’all mean wing scratcher, don’t ya?” snarked her friend.

Castor blinked as he watched Lady Dash turn a bright red.

“Hay,” she said in embarrassment, “it was nothing like that!”

Lady Applejack snickered, “You keep tellin’ yerself that, honey.” In a softer undertone that only the three of them could hear, she added, “I heard you propose, there, sugarcube!”

Dash flushed an even darker shade of red that began to creep down her chest and out from under the short sleeves of her dress.

Castor gave them both a wide-eyed look, then stood. “Well,” he said, then cleared his throat, “I should probably meet them outside. It might be a good move to open the curtains, as well.” He headed for the front door, Miss Arrow behind him.

When he glanced back inside as he stepped outside, he saw a guard taking her previous position. When he looked back at his car at the curb, he saw a man leaning casually against the side of the house across the street, a woman beside the house to the left, and another standing at the path into the forest. It looked like the Equestrians had called in a few reinforcements of their own. Or decided to let him see the ones they had had already in position.

He had to be careful. They were cute and adorable, but clearly the top predators of their world — despite looking and acting like a prey species — and therefore must be dangerous in their own way.

He heard an excited babble of voices from the sitting-room as Miss Arrow closed the front door behind them.

The Landrover that pulled up behind his car fairly screamed that oxy-moron, Military Intelligence, at him. Probably M.I. 5. However, because this involved a possible ambassador, it might be M.I. 6. Maybe both.

The Colonel had some high friends indeed. And they had actually listened, for once!

Four people climbed out of the, one them festooned with cameras. The Colonel had taken his suggestion to heart, Castor was pleased to see. He met them half-way down the garage drive.

“This had better be good,” the Colonel half-growled.

Castor gave him a weak smile. “Good afternoon, Colonel, gentlemen,” he said. “Before we go any farther I must say that my radio link to my associate, P.C. Havers, cut out the moment I stepped inside the door. So, if any of you have transmitters, they will fail.” He gave them a moment to consider that. And the listeners on the other end to finish cursing. “I’ve asked them to keep the curtains open.” They all looked over to the front windows were they saw the five women looking back at them, and waving when they saw the men looking at them. Castor noticed that Miss Arrow, by the front door, had partially turned to look into the forest at the end of the street. Which just so happened to keep an ear in their direction, He half-smiled to himself. She would have to have exceptional hearing to learn anything. He faced the Colonel, again. “And they told me you were almost here when you drove into the estate.”

That made the newcomers exchange looks.

“With reinforcements.”

The looks exchanged were a bit more alarmed.

“Here’s the problem. These people are aliens. As in, not from our world.” He ignored the mild snort of disbelief from one of the two men he had marked as M.I. agents. The other merely rolled his eyes and stared at him.

“We don’t want to cock this up, we’ll only have one chance at it, I’m sure. They can prove it, and did to me.” He looked at the man with the cameras. “Do you have a video camera?”

The man nodded.

“Get it out and get it going.” He looked at the Colonel, who had raised his eyebrows. “Trust me, you’ll want a full record of this.”

He waited for the man to get the camera running. “They want to establish an Embassy with us. That’s why they invited me to meet them. I’ll let them explain the rest.” He turned and led the small group to the house.

Miss Arrow opened the door for them and ushered them inside.

“Your Highnesses, Ladies,” Castor said as soon as they were in the sitting-room. He turned to the Colonel. “May I present Colonel Jayson Thiessen, Retired. Colonel,” He turned back to the Equestrians. “I would like to introduce Her Royal Highness Twilight Sparkle, His Highness Blue Blood, Lady Rarity, Lady Apple Jack, and Lady Rainbow Dash. And this gentleman is their solicitor, Lin Yueshi.”

The Colonel gave him a long look, then turned to the waiting Equestrians and bobbed his head in an abbreviated bow. “Your Highnesses, Ladies, it is a pleasure to meet you. These three gentlemen with me are Lewis Carroll, ‎John Tenniel, and Charles Dodgson.” Each gave a similar bob of their head as they were named, murmuring cordial greetings.

John had his video camera held in one hand, running, and was glancing occasionally at the tiny display turned to one side.

“Your Highness, I think we should first demonstrate that you really are not natives to this world,” Castor suggested to Princess Twilight.

“Oh! Me! Me!” shouted Lady Dash leaping to her feet.

They all noticed Prince Blood rolling his eyes and sighing deeply, Princess Sparkle face-palming, and the others all shaking their heads.

The Princess nodded, “Yes, Dash, go ahead,” she said with an annoyed sigh.

“YES!” shouted Dash jumping up and transforming back into her native form in mid-air. She swung around to face the astonished newcomers. “Bet you didn’t expect that, did ya?”

She laughed. “It’s me — Rainbow Dash! The fastest pegasus in Equestria!” She zipped around the room almost too fast to see, banking around the walls like those motorcycle daredevils who race on horizontal tracks, as Castor had once seen on the news. How she missed clipping one of them with her wings as she did so, he couldn’t figure out. He shook his head. He had seen some people with massive egos, but this pony would give them a real run for their money.

The newcomers couldn’t take their eyes off of her as the Colonel muttered, “They’re flying horses?”

Castor cleared his throat and, speaking softly, said, “Uh, no, sir. Only some of them are flying ponies. The rest are either regular ponies or unicorns.” The Colonel was smart enough to catch his emphasis.

The Colonel gave him a sharp look, as did Carroll and Dodgson. Tenniel was keeping the camera focused on the pegasus. “Unicorns?” Their expressions ranged from a controlled blank to surprise, and even a bit of fear. But they were professionals and kept themselves under control.

“Yes sir, and Princess Sparkle has both a horn and wings. She calls herself an alicorn. She said there are only four of them in her world,” Searle concluded, still in an undertone.

The next half hour was spent with the Princess explaining how they had gotten here, how they had tried to present diplomatic papers, and what they hoped the humans could do for them today. And posing for pictures for Tenniel, both with and without the humans. And both as humans and ponies.

Castor was sure that it wasn’t until the others had actually touched the ponies — Lady Dash had insisted they scratch her ears — that they began to believe it was all real.

The Colonel sat with his elbows on his knees — three “aliens” had brought in additional chairs from the dining room. He was thinking as he watched the four ponies sit and talk the two intelligence agents while Prince Blood watched them disapprovingly and Tenniel filmed them.

“Can you show us this portal?” he finally said.

Princess Sparkle looked over at him. “Why, certainly.” She looked over at Miss Arrow, who stepped back into the hall for a moment. No doubt to pass the word so nobody . . . no pony . . . was caught unawares, Castor figured.

“Come along girls,” she said, transforming back to human. “You, too, Blueblood.”

With the heartfelt sigh of someone from whom much has been demanded and no recognition given for his efforts, the man stood and waited patiently, leaning ever so slightly on his cane. His expression of boredom seemed to be his default expression. He hadn’t smiled or done anything else except frown and roll his eyes the entire time Castor had been watching today.

The Princess stepped past them and out the door held open by Miss Arrow. The other aliens followed her. The humans came last. Tenniel said, “Could you give me a moment to drop off the exposed film cartridges and pick up new?”

“Hurry,” instructed the Colonel.

The man almost ran to the car and popped open the back door to rummage in a bag inside. The Equestians, stopped and watched intently. He looked up at them and asked, “Uh, you don’t mind if someone picks these up and develops the film?” He held up a small bag.

The Princess shook her head.

“Thanks,” he said with a broad smile. He shoved more film cartridges into his pockets, then set the bag on top of the car and closed the door. “They’ll be waiting back at both your offices,” he half-whispered to the two M.I. agents as they caught up with him.

Searle was amazed at how much the path across the street changed in a few short meters. Abruptly there was a wooden deck, barely ankle high above the dirt and with waist-high railings, but looking as if it had been there for years. The deck had the most complete camouflaging coat he had ever seen. Only when you were within couple of feet did you even notice it. If he hadn’t seen the aliens stepping up onto it, he might even have tripped on it. The man and woman standing to either side of the deck as they passed showed him he hadn’t been imaging things yesterday when he thought he had seen someone.

He knew they were close when they entered a depression and the trees spread out a bit as grass carpeted the ground instead of the normal forest debris. He doubted even the most sophisticated examination of a high-altitude picture of the area would reveal anything different from the rest of the forest. Thermal imaging should find the decking, though, as it was certainly a different temperature from the ground. Especially as wood cooled off at a different rate than the forest floor in the night.

The tent, when it came into sight, was large, expedition-sized, and blended in perfectly with the forest. It was easily six by ten meters. He saw that several trees went straight through its roof. He wondered how they had managed to do that without destroying the roof lines. Or having any cuts or zippers through the fabric that he could see.

Standing to either side of the tent’s entrance was another set of guards watching them closely as they approached. Castor took several long looks at the surrounding area. He made sure to point out to the Colonel the, no-doubt, artificially placed blockades that protected the tent from all approaches except this one.

The inside had a wooden deck floor, a continuation and expansion of the decking from outside. The front half was a single open area of about six-by-five meters, with a table to either side. The roof of the tent was translucent, making the inside of the tent extremely well-lit. There were a dozen men and women standing at attention beside the tables, watching them. Oddly, there seemed to be three times as many women as men.

He heard Princess Sparkle sigh. She said, “At ease.” The soldiers relaxed only slightly, keeping their eyes on the humans. There were no weapons of any kind in sight.

Dividing the tent in half was a cloth wall with three canvas door-flaps spaced equidistant across it.

Princess Sparkle turned to them. “This is only temporary until we get the ambassadorial papers, then we’ll start building a more permanent facility.” She pointed at the middle door-flap. “That leads to the portal itself.” She pointed to the right, “That one leads to the male’s changing room.” She pointed to the other. “And that leads to the female changing room.”

She stopped and looked at them. “We are ponies. We don’t normally wear clothes except as decoration. When we go through the portal, it changes us to our normal selves. Which means, if we’re wearing clothes as people and go through it, the clothes would get dirty, mussed, and ripped up on the other side because of our smaller size as we tried to move around in them. Not to mention the trouble to take them off and put them back on without the assistance of hands. And trying to wear the clothes for this side on the other before coming through? We have the same problems. So we come through and then get dressed. Thus, the changing rooms.”

She looked at her friends. “Dash? Would you like to demonstrate?”

The young woman darted into wrong door, causing the Princess to sigh. She went to open the centre flap, but one of the soldiers hurriedly ran over and opened it for her. She rolled her eyes, and waved the men forward.

The hallway was about a meter-and-a-half wide, he saw as they entered it. The Princess followed behind them. The end of the hallway was blocked by the tree, which had a small sign suspended against it and hanging from the hallway walls.

Halfway down the hallway, he could see two more door-flaps, one on either side.

Lady Dash came through the one on the right. She waved at them, then turned and jauntily walked straight into the tree. And disappeared.

40 — The Naked Truth

Castor wasn’t sure which surprised them more, that Lady Dash had apparently walked into a tree and disappeared, that she had been completely nude and didn’t seem to care, or the wonderfully intricate and colourful wings-tattoo she had on her back.

Colonel Thiessen was frowning, thinking. “Can one of us go through? Take a quick look on the other side?” He clearly wanted to eliminate the possibility that it was all some sort of stage-magician’s trick.

Princess Sparkle looked uncertain. “I’m not sure that is wise,” she said slowly. “We’ve only had two people go through the portal, so far. One, Mr. Yueshi, went through without any changes whatsoever. The other was changed to a pony, which he found to be a very traumatic experience.

“He’s fine, though,” she added quickly when she realized what that sounded like. “It was just such a surprise, and he didn’t know how to walk without falling down all the time.” She thought a moment longer, then said, “Would it be alright if Mr. Yueshi took a couple of your cameras through and took pictures for you?” she said, hopefully.

Mr. Carroll stepped forward. “I would be willing to take the risk. I went through military training when I was younger. If it is unpleasant, I’m sure I can handle it. And if it isn’t, well, no harm done, right?”

Castor was impressed that the man’s voice was steady. Stepping onto a different world was . . . daunting.

She pressed her lips together tightly, thinking. She sighed and shook her head.

“Mr. Yueshi?” she called out.

“Yes, Your Highness?” He stepped into the hallway.

She closed her eyes in exasperation, then glared at him. “Would you please accompany Mr. Carroll? Perhaps take along a camera to get some pictures for them?”

“I would be delighted, Your Highness.”

She huffed in annoyance at his continued use of her title as he went over to Mr. Tenniel and they had a quick discussion over which cameras he would take.

While they were busy, Princess Sparkle called out again, “Emerald Arrow? Would you have somepony pop through the portal to warn everypony that Mr. Yueshi and another human are coming through, and that the new human might transform?”

The Princess looked at the humans. “We’re keeping a close watch on the portal and I wouldn’t want any of you to get hurt because somepony was startled.”

One of the men from the tent’s front-room hurried in. As he reached the Princess, she grabbed his arm and whispered something to him. He quickly walked down the hall and through the tree.

“We’re ready, Your Highness.” He had the video camera, running, in his hand, with a new tape in place in case the portal ruined the camera, and a 35mm camera, also with a new roll of film.

“Right,” she said a bit sharply. “Make sure you read the sign on the tree.”

He nodded and tilted his head at Mr. Carroll. They started walking towards the tree.

“Just relax,” Yueshi said to the M.I. agent. “It’s perfectly safe. Pretend you’re stepping through a curtain. As Her Highness said, read the sign. I’ll go first.” He disappeared through the portal without pausing.

The agent hesitated, then squared his shoulders and disappeared as he stepped forward.

It had been at least ten minutes since the two had disappeared through the portal, and they were starting to get worried. Even the Princess seemed a bit concerned at the long delay.

“If something had gone wrong, they would have been back almost immediately,” she had reassured them after the first three minutes. “They’re probably just taking a good look around and taking pictures for you.”

But, now, she turned to her friends outside the hall. “Rarity?” she said, not quite concealing the worry in her voice, “Do you think you could check on things?”

“Certainly, Twi,” the addressed woman said.

Castor heard the door flap on the left side rustle as she went into the changing room. However, before she could come out in the hall, their tardy humans came stumbling back through the portal. Or, rather, Mr. Carroll stumbled back through. Lady Dash was right behind him, his clothes held in her arms. She was laughing hysterically. Mr. Yueshi followed her, shaking his head. Finally, lastly, the other guard came through carrying his clothes. He ducked into the men’s changing room.

Mr. Carroll held to the railing with a solid grip as he stared at them. “I flew,” he said breathlessly. “I became a pony and flew!”

“You shoulda seen him,” crowed Lady Dash. “He crashed every time he got more’n head height off the ground! The littlest foal could fly rings around him.” She returned to laughing, tears coming from her eyes.

Mr. Carroll just stared at them, “I was a pony, and I flew!” He said, incredulously.

Mr. Yueshi, on the other hand, was just shaking his head sadly. He walked over and handed the cameras to Mr. Tenniel. “I shot the entire roll in this camera,” he held out the 35mm. “And kept the video camera running the entire time,” he said dryly. “Hopefully, the portal didn’t ruin the recording or film.”

He looked over at Lady Twilight. “Some people get all the luck,” he said, clearly wishing he could have transformed, as well.

She nodded. “So, Colonel Jayson Thiessen, will that be enough?”

He returned her nod, staring at the M.I. agent who was slowly getting himself back under control and realizing he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Lady Dash, still giggling, shoved the man’s clothes into his arms and said, “Hey, Twi, are we done here? I need to go kick some clouds or Ponyville is going to have some nasty weather tonight.”

“Oh, sure, Dash. See you later.”

The nude woman turned and took a short running leap through the portal.

For Royalty and nobles, these young . . . ponies? . . . were more than a little rough around the edges. The only one that came close to the image of a noble was Prince Blood. Was it the difference between those born into nobility and those who were not? Or was this just something natural for them? The difference between males and females?

The humans followed the Equestrians as they headed back to the house. When they reached the vehicles, the Colonel stopped and said, “I will make sure that your request for an embassy is taken to the highest authorities possible, as quickly as possible. In the meantime, if there is anything I can do to assist you, please contact me.” He held out his business card to the Princess.

“Thank you for your assistance,” she said. “If you have any questions, please give me a call. I believe Detective Inspector Searle has our number here.” She gave Castor a quick smile.

He nodded. “Yes, I remember it.”

The Princess, followed by the rest of her entourage, went inside the house. Miss Arrow stopped on the front porch and watched them.

“All right, gentlemen. I think we should head to Thames House to debrief and inform your superiors of what we’ve discovered. Sergeant Searle, you’ll come with us. Just leave your keys on the driver’s side floor and someone will return it to Guildford for you.

“And let’s see that video from the other side before we go anywhere.”

To say the video was astonishing was an understatement. To see the M.I. agent floundering around in his suddenly wrongly proportioned clothes was both amusing and scary. To see him flap his wings once he was out of the clothes and actually lift off the ground was amazing. Watching Lady Dash flying circles around him while coaxing him to fly was . . . simply indescribable. There could be no doubt that the portal was real, that there really was another world on the other side of that tree.

They had really, truly, been contacted by an alien race from another planet. The implications were as terrifying as they were amazing. Man was not alone in the universe. That would rock every religion on Earth. That they were miniature talking ponies merely added to the surreal atmosphere of the situation.

Mankind was not unique.

The park-like atmosphere around the tree, with its spiralling deck, and the massive stone walls a short distance away were puzzling. It all looked as if it had been there for years, yet the Princess had told Castor that they had only known the portal’s location for a month.

After the tape finished, Mr. Carroll took the wheel and started them back to London. Castor spent most of the drive recounting what he had learned from talking with the Princess. They were not pleased to hear the Equestrians had already taken over six thousand books on culture, science, technology, and history through the portal. Mr. Dodgson, the Security Service agent — M.I.5 — was already making plans to visit the Little Whinging bookstore to see exactly how much human knowledge had been plundered. And where they might expect the Equestrians to have difficulties understanding. And what they knew that the government wished they did not.

“Well, Sergeant Searle,” Colonel Thiessen said, “at the moment, you have the most information on these Equestrians, based on what you’ve said. And this Princess Sparkle seems to like you.”

Castor looked at the Colonel in growing horror.

The Colonel sighed. “I may not be in the chain of command anymore, but it looks like you’re going to be reactivated until this is sorted,” he said sympathetically.

Oh Bloody Hell! Castor had just known he was going to get the short end of the stick! His wife would not be amused that he was once more in the Sport and Social.

Staff Sergeant Castor Searle — at least they had had the decency to increase his rank when they reactivated him — sat at the board-room table and tried not to fidget. Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t be a problem. In the Special Air Service one quickly developed nerves of steel.

However, it was the brass in the room that made him nervous. Not a harrowing mission deep in enemy territory after a ludicrously dangerous High Altitude Low Opening parachute jump. It was the final Chinese Curse of Life — “May people in high places recognize you.” You couldn’t get much higher than the Prime Minister. Well, at least things couldn’t get any worse.

He was at the far end of the table. Beside him, to his left, sat Colonel Jayson Thiessen, Retired — retired for the moment, at least. Heading up the table was the head of the Sport and Special, Director Special Forces Brigadier Jeremy Phipps. Then came Head of Army, Field Marshal Sir John Lyon Chapple; M.I.5 agent, Lewis Carroll; and Director General of M.I.5, Sir Patrick Jeremy Walker. Last, and closest to the empty chair at the end of the table, was the Home Secretary, The Rt. Hon. Kenneth Wilfred Baker, Baron Baker of Dorking — whose Brylcreem slathered hair really did shine in the room’s light, reinforcing the slug-like image chosen for him by that satirical program, Spitting Image.

Across from the Home Secretary was the Foreign Secretary, The Rt. Hon. Douglas Hurd. To his left were the Director General of M.I.6, Sir Colin Hugh Verel McColl, and M.I.6 agents Charles Dodgson and John Tenniel.

The two Secretaries were frowning as they, once more, went through the stack of photographs taken by Tenniel and the hardcopy reports from the debriefing that had taken the rest of Saturday. The Head of Army had his own, much smaller stack of photos, at which he was scowling heavily. He was clearly unhappy that the high-altitude photos taken of Little Whinging, with special attention to the area beside the playpark, showed almost nothing of interest. As Castor had suspected, the ponies’ camouflage was excellent. There was nothing to indicate the presence of either the tent or the walkway. They had even, somehow, managed to seamlessly blend the thermal signatures of everything to match the surrounding forest. Neither ultra-violet nor infra-red had discovered anything unusual. Not even the bodies of the guards they knew were positioned around the area were showing up.

Whatever the ponies were using, he knew the Army scientists would be salivating to get their hands on it.

The door to the room suddenly flew open and the Prime Minister, John Major, walked in.

They all stood.

“All right,” he said, clearly irritated, “What’s the emergency that required getting me out of bed at two in the morning?” He glanced at the thick folder placed on the table as he sat in the chair at the head of the table. There was a television and video tape recorder on a nearby stand, positioned for his easy viewing.

“Prime Minister,” said the Home Secretary without preamble, “Aliens have contacted us and requested permission to establish an Embassy in the town of Little Whinging, Surrey.”

Major stared at him, one eyebrow slowly rising. “Aliens,” he said flatly, staring at Baron Baker. “Aliens . . . as in little green men from Mars with flying saucers?” he said incredulously. “Are you having me on!?” He was on the verge of becoming very angry.

Baker met his gaze unflinchingly. “Some are green, without a doubt. But not little men. And not from Mars. No flying saucers. But, definitely, beyond the shadow of a doubt, not from this planet, nor any other in our solar system.” He nodded at the folder on the table. “They showed our agents, Dodgson, Tenniel, and Carroll, a portal, a gateway, if you choose, to their world.” He indicated the three. “Mr. Carroll actually went through it and their solicitor took the pictures you see of the other side. They claim they discovered the portal by accident.”

Major sighed heavily and looked at the folder on the table. Slowly he reached over and opened it.

The top photo, a magnificent colour A4, was of Princess Twilight Sparkle, Colonel Thiessen, Sergeant Searle, and agents Carroll and Dodgson. The Princess was standing proudly with her head up high, a solemn expression, and wings spread wide in front of the humans. Hovering behind and slightly above them was Rainbow Dash with what Castor called a shit-eating grin on her face. That the Princess’ head was barely waist-high merely added to the surrealism of the image.

“Oh, come on,” the Prime Minister said, rolling his eyes. “Purple and blue flying horses? Are you all daft? This looks like something my daughter Elizabeth would come up with.”

“We have video, as well, Prime Minister, shot by agent Tenniel.”

Major started flicking through the remaining photos. Seeing the before and after photos of the ponies as humans brought another exclamation. “Really?”

He spent some time studying the photos from the other side of the portal, lingering on the ones showing flying ponies and unicorns in the background. And the armour they wore.

Then they started the recorded tape.

After one last look through it, he slammed the folder shut and stared at each of them around the table. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

“How f*cked are we?”

The Home Secretary nodded. “Not bad, at all, actually.” He glanced at the two agents and ex-S.A.S. soldiers. He began ticking things off on his fingers. “The bad news is that they’ve been here for three weeks, since July 25th. They’ve hired an intelligent, competent solicitor. They’ve purchased over six thousand books — they converted substantial amounts of gold and gems for pounds through local dealers and Barclays Bank, handled by the solicitor. With a few exceptions, they’ve purchased all the properties within half-a-kilometre around the portal in Little Whining, again handled by their solicitor. The portal is completely within their control. And, as the photos showed, they can pass as humans whenever they want. Except for their outrageous hair colour.” He sighed. “Which any semi-competent hairdresser could fix. And, finally, we cannot detect their portal or any of the . . . ponies . . . that we know are guarding it with any of our surveillance tools.”
He paused and looked around the room.

“The good news is, the portal appears to only allow one person at a time through it, so no serious invasion force is possible. Their apparent military capability is still bows and arrows — they claim they’ve been at peace for a thousand years. They want to establish friendly relations. They have on deposit at the Barclays Bank a little over one million pounds in gold ingots and another twelve million in gems. That is after their expenditures for the properties, which total around five million pounds according to the conveyance deed reports on file. However, Inland Revenue reports that over eight million pounds actually changed hands.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “They used very clever, and legal, manoeuvring to avoid inflating the property values while still paying above market prices for the properties to induce the homeowners to sell quickly. They scrupulously followed reporting laws and rules. A clever solicitor, indeed.” He paused a second.

“They claim their medicine is far in advance of ours and that they have cures for cancer and can regrow lost limbs — solutions they are willing to share. They similarly claim to have complete weather control. And, we know the general area of the portal to within about a meter.

“And they want to establish an embassy so that we can begin to exchange technology and trade.”

John Major stared at the Home Secretary. “Bows and arrows, regrow lost limbs, and complete control of the weather?” He looked down at the file. “I think I would give up nuclear weapons for those last two items.”

“Of course, Prime Minister, we can’t prove any of those claims, this is all what they have told us. All we can say for sure is that the ponies Agent Carroll saw when he went through the portal were all carrying either spears or crossbows. For all we know, it could be rubbish.”

Major nodded. “On the other hand,” he said. “They could have stayed hidden for who knows how long before someone noticed.” He looked up. “And you say they came to us?”

“Yes, Prime Minister. Apparently, a bobby in Little Whining noticed something off about the sudden increase in vacancies in the neighbourhood and brought it to Detective Inspector Searle.” He indicated Castor. “On Friday afternoon, D.I. Searle dropped by the Wisteria Estate for a look. He noticed one house still seemed to be occupied. He went up and introduced himself, and explained that the police would be regularly patrolling to limit vandalism.

“D.I. Searle returned to the estate later that day and took a drive through. The person he had met that afternoon flagged him down and suggested he come back for tea on Saturday, at ten, to meet someone important.

“He contacted Colonel Thiessen, retired, that night. They initially thought they were dealing with a rogue iron-curtain big-wig fleeing the situation over there and asking for asylum, or some such nonsense.

“When he met the aliens yesterday at ten, they all looked like normal people except for the outrageous hair colours. The purple one in the first photo was introduced as Princess Twilight Sparkle, and then they introduced a Prince Blue Blood, who later claimed to be their Royally appointed Ambassador to England. They explained that their solicitor had already tried to contact the Foreign Office about presenting ambassadorial papers and been rebuffed. They were mulling over whether or not to just appear in front of Buckingham Palace as ponies and ask to speak to the Queen.”

They all shuddered. The media would have gone ballistic! Castor could just see the headlines: Aliens Arrive! Or, Take Me To Your Leader! Or possibly even, PLUSHIE PONIES INVADE!” With the appropriate pictures.

The Foreign Secretary, Hurd, interrupted. “I think we can all see just how much of a circus that would have turned into.”

“However,” Baker continued, “Thank God, Detective Inspector Searle’s appearance at their door suggested a possible alternative, hence the invitation.

“With the ponies ‘unveiling’ themselves and asking D.I. Searle for help, he called the Colonel, who contacted some of his associates still in the government. He brought these two agents, Lewis Carroll and Charles Dodgson,” he pointed them out, “and an agency photographer, John Tenniel to the meeting. They took pictures and saw the evidence themselves. Including taking a look at another world. And that gets us to now.”

Major sat and thought for a moment. He shuffled through the photos one more time.

“What are our options?” He looked at the Home Secretary.

Baker waggled his head side-to-side. “Well, they own the property around the portal through a completely legal company, Royal Equestrian Properties, Limited, set up by their solicitor. So, any actions we might take to negate that would receive stiff resistance in Parliament, especially regarding a group not on any terrorist list, regardless of where they came from. The same goes for simply seizing the land as a matter of National Security.

“We could do it. And make either one stick. I doubt they’d be able to stop us, but I’m not sure that alienating these . . . ,” he paused and sighed, “aliens would be a wise move. Especially when we can’t show any reason why we should be so hostile. And the Opposition in Parliament would have a field day with our ‘unprovoked belligerence towards a potentially very powerful ally.’

“And it would really throw a spanner in the works if we did seize the portal area on the grounds they didn’t come straight to us when they first got here, and then their solicitor was able to show that they had tried to tell us and nobody believed them.” He shook his head. “I don’t see how we could come out of this without looking like flipping idiots if we do anything that might remotely be considered as hostile by the public.”

“And let’s not forget that the other nations in the world might take exception to us seizing the portal for ourselves,” put in the Foreign Secretary dryly. “It might be better to leave it in the hands of these . . . Equestrians? . . . .” He looked at the M.I.6 agent to his left for confirmation, and received a nod in return. “And if people found out that we had chased away aliens who had a cure for cancer and could regrow lost limbs? For no reason except a vague cry of ‘National Security,’ because they scare us? All of us would be sacked in a week.” He paused. “We’d be lucky if they didn’t borrow guillotines from the French.”

“We could object on the grounds that the section containing the portal is farmland in Green Space,” continued Baker, “but that would merely preclude the building of any sort of enclosure around the portal. They would still legally own the land. And forcing that issue would leave the portal where anyone could easily access it.

“Unless we put a military cordon around it, which people would see as us seizing the portal.”

He looked at the Prime Minister. “I think we have to grant them their embassy on that land, and allow them to enclose it in a wall of some kind, at least, just to prevent . . . mischief on the part of some of our citizens.”

“And let us not forget,” said Hurd, “that this sets a precedent on future alien contacts, and how people will expect us to react.” He looked around the table. “Now that we know such things are possible, our scientists are going to go full-bore into making a portal. And if we do, and we go to another world, and they immediately attack us? How hypocritical it would be of us to then complain about it when we did the exact same thing! Not to mention that if we demand full access to the Equestrian portal, then any world we access with a portal of our own will make similar demands of us. And again, how can we refuse, when we did the same bloody thing?”

There was a moment of silence, then Field Marshal Sir John Chapple spoke up. “There’s something else to consider in this. They look like cute, adorable plush toys that would make any little girl squeal with joy. However, it has been my experience that the most brightly coloured animals in the jungle are frequently the most lethal — either venomous, toxic, or just plain deadly. They are herbivories, they are prey animals, they even admit that they are not predators. And that they understand the distinction suggests there are predators in their world. Yet, here they are in neon-bright colours you should be able to see from orbit.

“If their world is anything like ours — and the park in those pictures wouldn’t be out of place in London, which suggest that it is — such brightly-coloured prey should have been wiped out in favour of their dull-coated brethren that blend in with the terrain. That they are, instead, the largest and most powerful country on their world, and none challenge them? Well, that worries me. What do they have, that we know nothing about, that lets them thrive in this manner?

“And we only have their word that they found this portal by accident. Now that they know it exists and where it goes, who is to say that they can’t create a second one somewhere else? If we were in their position and someone seized the other end of our portal, wouldn’t we just set about making another, and make arrangements with someone else more hospitable? And tell the first portal’s owners to go piss up a rope — and then close it?” He shook his head.

Hesitantly, Castor cleared his throat. “Actually,” he said, “This is their third portal. This one, Princess Sparkle said, was found by accident — they don’t know how or when it was created. However they have another that was purposely made about a thousand years ago by someone named Starswirl the Bearded, but it opens for use only once every thirty months, and then only for three days. They don’t use it because there’s a time differential between the worlds. Time in this other world runs slower. That is, for every four years that pass in the pony world, one passes in this other world. Which makes it difficult to use the portal in any practical manner.”

“Starswirl made a second portal which led to a second world. The Princess told me that the ponies had such a bad experience there that it put them off on the portals for almost a thousand years. The ponies literally put them in a dungeon room and locked them away! The discovery of this third portal, found entirely by accident, had them decide to try once more.”

They stared at him incredulously. The information was, no doubt, somewhere in the debriefing papers, but it hadn’t been highlighted as anything of particular importance.

“So, they can make additional portals, should they so desire,” The Field Marshal continued. He looked up at the Prime Minister. “We should give them their embassy and ensure that none of our enemies, or friends, ever manage to convince them to move it. Or for them to open a second Embassy anywhere else. At the same time, we should do everything we can to ensure they don’t take us by surprise. Offer them all the assistance they want just so we can keep a close eye on them.”

There was silence as they considered his points.

The Director General of M.I. 5 said, “And discreetly move military units into position around Little Whinging — in case things go pear-shaped — as well as beefing up police units in Surrey so we’re prepared when the newspapers find out and people start swarming around the area. Blackbushe Airport is less than ten kilometres away, we could put an air unit there without trouble, response time would be about five minutes. There are a few other nearby former RAF bases in civie hands that we could shoe-horn a unit or two into, as well.

“And we’ll start vetting the local’s about a Top Secret facility being built in Little Whinging. Maybe encourage them to look the other way if they notice anything a bit cock-eyed. Or, better yet, give us a ring and make sure we know what’s what. We might see about acquiring a bit of land in the area, ourselves, as well.”

The Director General of M.I. 6 added, “I’ll warn our agents in the field and in the Embassies to be on the watch for any mentions of ‘aliens’ being in England from their contacts. And to deflect any inquiries on the matter. Perhaps play up that the conservatives are worried about immigrants. That sort of thing.”

The discussions continued until well past dawn.

41 — And You Thought it Would Be Easy!

Author's Notes:

Wow! The number of comments has officially passed the number of views!
Yeah! Here's another chapter to celebrate!
(and remember, another extra chapter at the 700 likes mark)

Horrified, Castor stared at the badge on the desk in from of him. He had only thought things couldn’t get worse. There went all hope he had that he could return to his pedestrian job as Detective Inspector at the Surrey Police Department. He looked back up at Sir Patrick Jeremy Walker, Director General of M.I.5, who was leaning back in his chair behind his desk, his hands steepled in front of him.

After Sunday’s meeting had broken up, he had expected that today, Monday, would be spent in his office working on all the files he hadn’t finished Friday. Instead, there had been a message waiting for him to go to the Thames House in London, immediately. He had assumed it was for a further debriefing.

What the Detective Inspector hadn’t expected was for the head of M.I. 5 to say, “Pursuant to your activation in the S.A.S., you have been transferred to Military Intelligence Department Five. Here is your badge.” He had then dropped a leather badge-wallet on his desk, opened, with the appropriate identification card and security clearances listed for Searle.

“You are to report directly to me, or my secretary if I am unavailable. Your assignment is to watch over and safeguard the Equestrians.” He paused. “You are not James Bond. You are not spying on them. You are their Concierge. You are to expedite any requests the Equestrians may have. If they want something done, do it, as long as it does not endanger the United Kingdom or any of our allies. If someone has a problem with the Equestrians, you will handle it for them.

“You are expected to deliver, daily, a written or verbal summary of your activities with the Equestrians, as well as any issues you think we should know about. If they ask you to keep a secret, you may do so unless you feel it conflicts with the security interests of the United Kingdom. You will inform them of any such conflicts, unless you think doing so would put yourself in physical danger.

“Use your discretion!

“We want them to trust us, to want to trade with us. Anything you can do to foster that relationship? Do it — as long as it is legal. If you need to talk with a lawyer to determine that, my secretary can direct you to someone on the department’s legal team.

“I want to be clear on this. Your assignment is to be as helpful as possible to them. You are not, however, empowered to circumvent or break the law. If they have a request that you cannot fulfil, bring it to me. If I can’t do it, I will take it to the Prime Minister.”

He leaned forward to stare at Castor. “This is an extremely important assignment, as I’m sure you know. The Equestrians seem comfortable with you. While others have more training, there’s no guarantee that whomever we send over would be acceptable to them.

“Naturally, you will receive an upgrade in pay.” He sighed. “You can, of course, refuse.”

He sat back and waited.

Castor was stuck. No bloody way could he refuse. He had been re-activated. If he said, “no,” he might find himself sent into training for the next six months in some place he couldn’t pronounce the name of — just to make sure he didn’t talk about what he knew of the aliens.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if this was some terrible imposition. His hours wouldn’t be any more irregular than they were now — police cases rarely worked on a nine-to-five schedule. And the Equestrians were rather nice people, and very adorable and cute ponies. He could think of much worse assignments. Plus, the increase in pay would be nice, too. And seeing a new world might be fun. And, after all, it couldn’t get much worse than it already was, now could it?

He smiled at the Director General and picked the badge-wallet up off the desk. “I would be a fool to say ‘no,’ sir.

“Excellent!” said Walker as he stood up and extended his hand. “Welcome to the Department.” He tapped a button on the intercom on his desk, “James Wootton, my secretary, will show you to your office and help you get settled in. He’ll also set up the paperwork for the Surrey Police to let them know you were ‘poached’ by Scotland Yard, and to give you a week to get your affairs in Surrey in order.” He paused a moment. “Oh, yes, you will officially keep your rank as Detective Inspector.”

“He’ll also brief you on what to say to the Equestrians regarding their request for an Embassy, and supply any necessary materials.”

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, Prince Blueblood, Lady Rarity, Lady Applejack, Lady Rainbow Dash, Lady Fluttershy, Lady Pinkie Pie, Detective Inspector Castor Searle is here,” Miss Arrow said as she conducted him into the sitting-room, with a chorus of “Hellos” and “Hi’s.” The Princess was standing by the fireplace, slightly swaying as she shifted her balance from foot to foot. The others were seated either in an armchair, on the couch, or peeking from behind it in the case of the woman with the bright-pink hair.

It was the day after his “promotion.” And a very taxing day it had been as Wootton had been extremely thorough in bringing Castor up-to-date on the rules and regulations he now had to follow. As well as briefing him on what the department expected from him in the way of reports. Just what he needed, more paperwork.

“Good afternoon, your Highnesses, Ladies,” he said bowing. He nodded to the solicitor standing to one side. “As I mentioned when I called yesterday, I have some good news for you, and a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

They watched him intently.

“First, the Prime Minister, on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, and Defender of the Faith, is more than pleased to grant your request for an Embassy.”

The Princess began hopping up and down excitedly. “Yes! I knew this would work! Yes! Yes!” Lady Pinkie Pie was waving a flag that said “Hurray!” and throwing confetti everywhere. The other ponies seemed similarly pleased. The Prince sighed and rolled his eyes at the other’s antics.

Castor made a mental note to bring over a fashion expert to explain a few facts about undergarments, and why women chose to wear them.

“Because you do not yet have a chancery, a building of your own,” he continued once the others had managed to quiet down the excitable Princess, “the Prime Minister is offering you the use of a three-room office suite in the Foreign & Commonwealth Office on King Charles Street in London, if you wish, until such a time as you complete the construction of one here in Little Whinging on the land you have purchased, or purchase a building elsewhere to suit your needs. Whatever your decision regarding the placement of your Embassy, the land you have purchased here in Little Whinging will be considered Equestrian soil under your diplomatic control.

“The government will supply you with a car and driver to transport you to and from your temporary office at Foreign & Commonwealth Office, should you decide to avail yourself of that offer, at your convenience, as well as any other assistance you might require.”

He nodded towards the window, through which a Landrover limousine could be seen parked in the street, the driver apparently reading a newspaper.

Searle smiled tightly, “Mr. Carroll, he’s the one who went through the portal, has volunteered to be your liaison at the Foreign & Commonwealth Office should you decide to take up that offer.”

“And, if you have no objections, I have been assigned to be your contact should you have any questions or need any services that aren’t related to diplomacy at the embassy.” He paused. “You can consider me your assistant. I can arrange meetings, transportation, tours, entertainment venues, whatever you need help with in our world, I will help you.”

He set his briefcase on the coffee table, opened it, and removed a folder. Miss Arrow pushed one of the armchairs over for him to sit in.

“First, though, the Prime Minister thought that you might want to construct your chancery right here in Little Whinging for easy access to, and to protect, the portal.” He held the thin folder out to the Princess, who eagerly took it and flipped it open. “The first page is a list of architects who are familiar with governmental buildings and have solid reputations, the second page is a list of reputable builders who are similarly familiar with government contracts.” He pulled out a thick book. “We don’t know what you require in your buildings, however we have many building codes regarding safety and health that must be factored into the design and construction of a building. This book,” he set in on the table, “lists all the building codes currently in law.” The princess snatched the book up soo fast he almost thought she had pulled it through the air without touching it. She started flipping the pages.

“We suggest that your architect work with one of those on that list to make sure the finished building meets both our building codes and your requirements.” He closed the briefcase and set it to the side. “I don’t know how you do it where you come from, but the normal procedure here is to consult with an architect on what you want built. He will help you put together a design package encompassing those requirements and suggesting a preliminary design.

“Once that is finalized, he will help you put it out for a competition to other architects to design the actual building, or compound, using the guidelines you provided. They, in turn, will each put together several proposals on what the finished building will look like and exactly what it will incorporate. You pick the one you feel is the best for your needs, and fits your budget.

“Then the winning architect will put together a complete package of drawings on the building or compound, which will then be placed to open bid by the builders. Generally, the builder with the lowest offer wins the bid. Then construction can begin.”

“There is one slight problem,” he said. “The playpark and forest properties are all classified as ‘Green Space.’” He smiled at their questioning looks. “Green Space is property that has been set aside in order to preserve the rural atmosphere of the countryside and prevent over-building.” He smiled wryly. “We’re trying to prevent turning everything around London into one giant city, you see.” He sighed as Mr. Yueshi nodded in agreement. “The Prime Minister suggests that you offer some of the property you’ve purchased in trade to preserve the total acreage allocated to the Green Space. Or purchase extra property for that purpose.” Castor pulled out another folder and handed it to the princess. “This is a list of properties around Surrey where additional Green Spaces would be appreciated, if you can’t acquire any in Little Whinging itself. Naturally, the Prime Minister will do what he can to expedite the arrangements.

“It appears that you have purchased about a hundred and forty acres, which is more than adequate for an Embassy compound. Whichever architect you select will be able to advise on the best manner in which to use the properties you own.”

He sighed. “I’ve been told that such large building projects usually take several years to complete the process, from inception of planning until the building is ready for occupancy.” He smiled. “Depending on how flexible you are in your needs, and how intricate the building is, it could take less time.”

The Equestrians were staring at him as if he were quite mad.

“You do all that?” asked Lady Rarity, somewhat breathlessly.

“Just for a measly two or three floor building?” said Lady Dash.

“Woah,” said Lady Jack.

Prince Blood looked as if he had bitten into something foul.

“They built the Palace in Canterlot in only seventy-six days and five hours! And it’s huge!” said Princess Sparkle.

Pinkie Pie recovered first, “Well, sillies,” she said cheerfully, “They do have to do everything by hoof, don’t they?”

They all got the same look of “Oh!” as if they had realized something important.

Realizing he had an opportunity, Castor asked, “Oh, you have different building techniques?”

The Equestrians exchanged guilty looks. The Princess nodded, “Yes, we do.”

“Well, we do have those pictures of that wall from the other side of the portal . . . how long did that take to build, for example? Or was it already in place when you found the portal?”

“Oh,” Princess Sparkle said, thinking, “No, it was all a dense forest before we found the portal.” She paused and thought a moment. “Well, let’s see. The portal is about half a kilometre inside the Everfree Forest.” She gave him a steady look. “The Everfree is a very dangerous forest with bears, timber-wolves, manticores, and other deadly predators in abundance. So, we had to clear the area and thin out the trees, reroute a stream or two. The walls are about . . . oh, forty of your meters high and four meters thick. They run all the way from the portal to the edge of the forest. Then we built the paths and planted the grass to make it look nice. Plus there are the buildings Mr. Carroll didn’t see, the soldiers’ barracks, a hotel for visitors, and administration buildings.” She nodded to herself. “But the walls themselves, we had them complete in about two weeks.” She smiled at him. “Work went faster once the walls were high enough to deter predators from attacking over them, so some of the soldiers could pitch in to building. And that was with constant non-stop work with a construction crew of about four hundred ponies.”

Castor tried to keep a straight face. The ponies built a wall that tall and over a kilometre long in two weeks? From the pictures it had looked like it had been there for years! And they didn’t have hands! He would have expected such an endeavour to take years of hard labour.

“Once that was done, we finished the other buildings. They took about three weeks.”

Then he realized something she had said.

“Manticores?” Bears and wolves he would sort of expect.

“Yes.” She frowned. “I don’t suppose you have them here.” She sighed “It’s a creature that has a lion’s head and body, bat-like wings, and a scorpion’s stinger tail. It’s about twice as tall as you are. They eat ponies if they can catch them.” She looked down at the floor. “Most creatures in the Everfree forest do.” She looked up and smiled again. “However, they rarely leave the forest because they know what would happen to them if they did.”

He stared at her. “Actually, if I remember correctly, we do have ancient Greek legends of beasts like that.”

“Really?” She was suddenly excited, and then she frowned. “I knew I should have read those mythology books first.” she said to herself.

Lady Jack cleared her throat. “Twilight, focus.”

“And that brings up another question I have,” he said, forcing himself back to his list of questions. “How do you want us to present this to the public? We can keep this quiet for a little while, but people are going to find out about it, especially once you officially invest your office at the Foreign & Commonwealth Office and start taking bids on constructing your chancery. We can ask the architects to keep quiet on the details inside the building, but someone will talk, even if only to a girlfriend, and mention that there’s a chancery being planned. Then the newspapers will hear about it and start asking questions.”

The Equestrians looked thoughtful. “Well,” said the Princess, “Now that we have permission, we can secure the area around the portal tonight. Get a short wall of about three meters built. That should keep curiosity seekers out of mischief until we replace it with something more robust.” She grinned at him. “Nothing quite as intimidating as the Everfree Wall. Then we can prepare the portal grounds like we did on the other side. Make it more park-like and inviting.” The others were nodding.

“Don’t forget to leave tunnels and holes for the forest creatures, we don’t want to separate them from their friends,” said Lady Fluttershy.

Castor nodded. He would have to alert Field Marshal Hurd. He would want to make sure they had the area monitored to see if they could pick up the construction activity. And speed up the placement of some long-range camera crews just outside the areas purchased by the Equestrians.

“That seems reasonable,” he said aloud. “And hold off on the public announcement until word gets out? Then do a big reveal?”

They all nodded. Lady Dash was staring off into the distance, clearly not paying any attention. Prince Blood also appeared disinterested, but Castor could see he was carefully listening.

“Excellent. In the meantime, we can work on how we want to proceed with things once we decide to make the announcement.”

He paused to gather his thoughts.

“Now then, I do have a few questions for you.”

The Princess nodded and waited.

“This person who found the portal last year. Can you tell me more about him?”

The reaction he got surprised him, it wasn’t what he expected at all. The entire group stiffened up, even Prince Blood. He had touched a nerve.

Under other circumstances, Castor would have been worried about that. However, the tailored-dresses the women wore didn’t leave much room for any sort of weapons, or much for the imagination, either. Even the ‘bodyguards’ seemed unarmed.

Prince Blood might have had a weapon, but his aloof demeanour gave Castor the impression that he would never deign to carry anything so uncouth as a weapon. And Lin, of course, was a solicitor, not a guard, soldier, or thug.

And when they had transformed previously, there hadn’t been any signs of weapons, either.

Twilight took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, but . . . the person wishes to remain anonymous.” She paused a moment, thinking.

“Let’s just say that this person has had a rough time in your world and is . . . reluctant for anyone from your world finding . . . them,” she said the pronoun very carefully, Castor noticed, implying that maybe the gender being specified was incorrect. “When we first discovered that . . . they . . . knew where the portal was . . . they refused to disclose its location in the fear they would be forced to leave the home they had created in our world and return here, permanently.” Twilight sighed as several of the others shook their heads, sadly.

“It was only when Princess Celestia directly requested that . . . they assist us, and that they wouldn’t be forced to remain here, that . . . they agreed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly. “The person was very forthcoming in what they knew about your world, and helped us come up with an effective strategy in dealing with this world, such as hiring a competent lawyer . . . solicitor, and having him help us acquire property and convert our gems to your money system.” She shook her head slightly, half-smiling. “Most of the advice on what we should do was ‘Ask the solicitor.’ The almanac they provided, though, was a tremendous help in preparing us for your world. And Rarity practically swooned when she saw that issue of Vogue magazine.” She smirked at the other woman, who merely returned her look with a raised eyebrow.

“And that person did accompany us through the portal the first few times, to guide us around the area and help us avoid the worst mistakes.”

Castor turned and looked at the solicitor.

Lin smiled and cleared his throat. “Professional privilege, Mr. Searle, professional privilege.” He paused. “I can state, however, that this person has committed no crimes while under the legal jurisdiction of the United Kingdom, either previous to accessing the portal nor upon any of his or her ventures back through it. And that his or her reasons for wishing to remain in Equestria are strictly personal.”

He shook his head slightly. “Unless you can show legitimate cause as to why my clients should divulge any farther information on this individual, my clients have nothing farther to say on this matter.”

Well, that certainly put paid to that line of inquiry. Castor nodded his understanding, “I see.” On to the next area of inquiry.

“You mentioned that Equestria is the largest country on your planet. What are some of the other countries?”

She wriggled happily in place and smiled at him. “I knew you would ask that question. I knew your scientists would be interested.” She reached into a bag lying beside her chair, pulled out a tightly rolled paper and handed it to him.

Castor took and unrolled it while he leaned back in his chair. He frowned as he examined it. If he didn’t know that they really were aliens he would have suspected them of having him on.

The paper was a map. With legends he could read. The scientists would go mad when they saw it.

“Well, I believe I already mentioned the Crystal Empire, that’s to the north of Equestria,” the Princess said while he looked at the map. “To the far east are the Dragons Lair and Griffonstone. Then there’s Saddle Arabia, Fancy, the Isles of Scaly, Abyssinia, Panthera, Hippogriffia, Yakyakistan, Mustangia, Maretonia, Monacolt, and Maretania — those last four are actually kingdoms inside Equestria — and then there’s Drungar and Zorgath. There are others, but those are the major ones.”

“Seriously?” he asked. “Half these names,” he tapped the map, “sound like creatures from earth mythology, and the others are puns or plays on names on Earth!”

Twilight frowned. “Yes,” she said. “I noticed that myself. Quite odd. I can’t help but wonder if there was another portal a few thousand years ago and there was some back and forth crossing by various creatures.” She shook herself in excitement. “But that doesn’t explain the close correlation between Equestrian city names and Earth city names, especially as many of the Earth cities did not exist five hundred years ago. Manehattan for Manhattan, Fillydelphia, for Philadelphia, it’s just too odd to be mere coincidence.”

She smiled, “But researching that is going to be so much fun! Is there a mental leakage between our two worlds? Tiny portals too small to notice, but they let thoughts through?” Her smile got bigger and slightly creepy. “Or have other ponies slipped through and talked of the Equestrian places while here?” She was rocking side-to-side in her chair. She shot a look at her friends. “Discord, perhaps?”

Castor frowned. Was that a person or something else?

“Not now,” admonished Lady Rarity, “later, Twilight.”

Pouting a bit, Twilight settled back into her chair and sighed again.

As interesting and perturbing as those thoughts were, Castor decided to let others worry about them. He carefully put the map, once again rolled, into his briefcase and leaned back.

He took a breath. “And finally, how would we establish an Embassy on your side of the portal?”

That generated another set of guilty looks.

“That,” said Princess Sparkle, “is going to be . . . complicated.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Not that we don’t want you to set up an Embassy,” she rushed to reassure him. “It’s just that, well, your people have to adapt to our world. As one of your people has already experienced, becoming a pony makes doing even the simplest of tasks difficult. You have to learn to walk. And using utensils with hooves is not a trivial exercise. Learning how to mouth-write takes years of practice.”

She nodded her head to one side, “Of course, you could just send over people who don’t transform. However, we have no knowledge of how you will adapt to our world in the long term if you retain your original form.” She paused and thought deeply. She took a deep breath and sighed. She looked at the others. She stared at Prince Blood for the longest time. He stared back, then shrugged. “They will find out in time,” he said quietly. “And why should we hide that which makes us naturally superior to all?” He paused, then added, “Besides, hiding an important secret from someone you want to be a good friend is bad form. When they find out about it, it could set all your progress back to the beginning, only now you have a hurdle of distrust to clear.”

That statement set off alarm-bells in Castor’s mind. Naturally superior? It was never a good thing when a group decided they were ‘naturally superior’ to others. And an important secret? Perhaps why they are the lead country in their world? No matter what they said, it was going to force a re-evaluation of the Prime Minister’s plans.

She nodded. Then nodded again, more resolutely. She looked back up Castor.

“This is something that you absolutely must keep a secret for as long as possible. We have many reasons for keeping this a secret in your world, not the least is your own history regarding how your people react to it. Everyone who has come through the portal has sworn to keep this secret unless lives are in danger. You should tell your Queen and Prime Minister. Let them decide who learns this information, but we ask that your government restrict it only to those who truly, Need. To. Know.”

He slowly nodded back at her. The rabbit hole was about to get even deeper, he felt.

He watched, stunned, as his briefcase floated up. A moment later, he noticed the book he had given the Princess floating at her side. He looked over at the others to see what their reactions were, and saw tea cups floating in front of Prince Blood and Lady Rarity. The solicitor was looking at him, smirking.

“Magic is real.”

42 — Completely Exposed

Castor stared at them. This was the closest he had ever come to out-right fainting. Magic. Was. Real.

He vaguely noticed a woman whispering to Miss Arrow.

“Excuse me, Your Highness, but three . . . men are coming up the street.” She lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head towards the stairs. She mouthed a word that he missed.

The Princess sat upright, and the others exchanged alarmed looks.

Mr. Yueshi walked over to him and said, “I think you need another stiff drink. I have a bottle of brandy in the kitchen.” He helped the dazed man to his feet.

“Magic?” Castor said wonderingly as they left the sitting-room.

They had no sooner entered the kitchen than he heard someone knock at the front door. Mr. Yueshi guided him out the back door, grabbing a bottle from a cabinet in the kitchen as they passed, as well as two glasses. The solicitor closed the kitchen door. They settled on chairs at a patio table. He poured them both a rather large helping in each glass.

“They call it ‘magic,’” Mr. Yueshi said. “But I think it might better be called telekinesis, the ability to move and manipulate matter with your mind. And they do not have telepathy — mind-to-mind communication — so you needn’t worry that they can read your deepest darkest secrets. Nor make you do things or forget things you have seen or done.”

“Telekinesis?”

The solicitor nodded.

Castor sat, thinking, sipping his drink.

Emerald Arrow escorted three wizards into the room. “Twilight,” she said, “These men are asking if there is a Hogwarts’ student here.”

Twilight smiled a bit nervously. “I am Twilight Sparkle,” she said, introducing herself. “And there are actually four students who live here who will be attending Hogwarts come September First. However, none of them are here at the moment, they are all over at the Weasley residence. Arthur Weasley. You might know him? He works at the Ministry?”

The three exchanged glances.

“Yes, I know of him. He’s the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office,” said the lead wizard. He sighed. “I’m Arnold Peasegood, this is Koios Pamiec and Làidir Cuimhne,” he pointed to them as he spoke. “We’re here because we picked up magic in use. And this is a muggle neighbourhood.”

Twilight nodded. “Oh, yes, that would be me.” Her teacup floated off the table to her hand.

“And me,” added Blueblood, his teacup copying hers in action. As did Rarity’s.

A moment later, each of the Equestrians had a tea cup floating in front of them. Pinkie Pie was going cross-eyed looking at hers.

The three wizards stared at them. Finally, Peasegood said, “And your wands?”

“Oh,” said Twilight brightly, “I have a wand!” her wand floated out of her bag on the floor.

Both Blueblood and Rarity shook their heads. “I have no need of such a crutch,” Blueblood said in a snooty tone as he looked down his nose at them, even though they were standing and he was sitting.

After a moment’s pause, Peasegood said, “Well, thank you for your time. I’ll inform the Magical Oversight Department that this house has wizards and witches in residence and to ignore any magic from this immediate area.”

He gave Blueblood a stern look and swept it across all the people in the room. “Remember, you must not let any muggles see you doing magic! If a muggle does see something they shouldn’t, inform us immediately so that we can take appropriate obliviation action to protect the Statute of Secrecy.”

Twilight smiled, “Oh, that won’t even be an issue, Mr. Peasegood. We own all the houses you see around here. In fact, we own the one-hundred and forty acres around this house.”

He stared at her.

“Emerald Arrow,” Twilight said, “why don’t you show these gentle-wizards the boundaries of Wisteria Estate, the woods, and the farm?”

Nodding, the Guard led the three men out the front door and down the street. It was over an hour later that they made their way back to the house.

“I explained to Mr. Peasegood,” explained Emerald, “that to allay the . . . muggles’ suspicions, we told them that the vacant houses and land are scheduled to be replaced by a large international business park.”

He nodded, a bit sourly, “I suggest you put up muggle-repelling charms around the perimeter to direct the curious away, if you haven’t already. In the meantime, I’ve marked the edges of your holdings so that my office, as well as the Magical Oversight Department, will ignore any magic inside that area. And, as I said before, don’t let any muggles see you using magic, and if a muggle does, inform us immediately.”

Twilight nodded agreeably. “We will be sure to inform you should anyone accidentally see us casting magic. And we will see about putting up those charms.”

The wizard sighed and signalled his compatriots that they were leaving. “Well, as I said, sorry we bothered you. We’ll be going now.” He turned to leave.

“Would you like to use our Floo?” Twilight asked.

Startled, the three wizards looked back at her. She pointed to the fireplace, and the Floo-powder pot.

Mr. Peasegood smiled. “Why, thank you,” he said. “That will make the return to the office a bit quicker.”

And knowing they were on the Floo-network made Twilight wonder why that office hadn’t informed Mr. Peasegood of the presence of wizards and witches in this location. Was the ministry truly that incompetent? Or was this merely an example of something falling through the inevitable cracks in communication that bedevilled every government?

After they left, Emerald explained, “It was a bit unusual. As soon as we reached the end of the street, they pulled out shrunken brooms and expanded them. I rode behind Mr. Peasegood, and we actually flew around Wisteria Estate and the farmland purchased. He cast a spell he called ‘disillusionment’ so that no one could see us.” She paused. “It was a rather unique experience for a unicorn. Perhaps we should see about adopting their use while we are on this side.”

The ministry now knew exactly where they were. Twilight wondered how long it would take for them to realize that “here” was where the rumoured Atlanteans were living?

Wednesday, four cars pulled to a stop in front of number Eleven Magnolia Road. The lead vehicle was a standard Little Whinging police car, the next three were, clearly to Castor, unmarked government Landrovers, a Jaguar sandwiched between two Landrovers. Three well-dressed men jumped out of each of the Landrovers. Four took up positions at each corner of the Jaguar while the other two moved to the front and rear of the lead and rear Landrovers, respectively. From the passenger-side front seat of the Jaguar another man stepped out and opened the back door.

A distinguished-looking man with slightly greying hair and wearing dark-rimmed glasses climbed-out. He straightened his suit slightly as he glanced around at the nearby houses. He saw that each house had a woman or man standing at the nearest corner, all well-dressed. Each nodded to him as he glanced in their direction. His lips compressed slightly as he saw them. Behind him, another grey-haired man exited the car.

The three men started up the pavement to the front door where Miss Arrow and Castor were waiting.

“Thank you for coming, Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister,” Castor said, nodding to both. “I realize this is a disruption of your schedules, but as I told you yesterday, it really is important.” He took a breath, adding softly, “Perhaps the most important meeting of our lives.” He turned to the M.I. 5 agent. “If you’ll wait here, please?”

The man looked at the Prime Minister, who nodded. He sighed and took a position to the side of the door.

Miss Arrow opened the door and stepped inside. Castor led the men into the sitting-room. Both newcomers stopped and stared at the room that was much larger than it had any right to be. They both turned and looked at the front door at the end of the short hallway in which they still stood, and then back into the expansive sitting-room. The exterior wall and front windows were clearly farther away than the front door in the entry way, which should have been impossible. The windows gave a good view of the front yard and the houses across the street. However, while the windows from the outside had looked to be of normal size, in here they were huge, taller than the people in the room and clearly a good five meters wide — wider than the entire wall when seen from the outside street.

The room, which shouldn’t have been more than four by five meters in size was easily seven by nine meters, with a ceiling that towered a good six meters above them. They looked back at the staircase beside the hallway that went no higher than three meters. The sitting-room’s ceiling was higher than the house’s roof.

Castor leaned a bit closer to the two men and said, “Yeah, it’s real, you aren’t imagining things. I checked it three times, myself, this morning, when I first got here. The room is almost as large as the entire house without changing the sizes of any of the other rooms. And, from the outside, it looks not different than the other houses on the street.”

A series of armchairs were placed around the room, each with a small table beside it. There was more than enough room to accommodate the large number of people gathered there. Eleven people in a siting-room for a house of this size should have felt crowded. In this room, however, there was plenty of room for triple that number.

Six of the people were already seated. The seventh was the solicitor and he was standing near the newcomers. Lady Dash was lazily flapping her wings, holding station over the middle of the room, almost at the ceiling, and snickering at the gobsmacked expressions of the two officials.

“Your Highnesses, Ladies,” Castor started, “I would like to introduce the Right Honourable John Major, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, and Mr. Michael Heseltine, Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.”

“Gentlemen, I would like to present Princess Twilight Sparkle . . . ,” and then he introduced everyone present.
Almost as soon as the introductions were over, Princess Sparkle said, “Would you like some tea before we get down to business?”

Major nodded jerkily, saying, “Yes. Yes, please,” with his Deputy following suit. Both were still looking around the room, taking in the fact what they were seeing was, indeed, actual fact and not just a stage illusion of some kind.

Castor pointed out the two empty armchairs across from the Princess and Prince. As they were seating themselves, another woman came into the room with a tea service cart.

The teapot, barely large enough to hold three cups, lifted into the air, which drew their attention almost immediately, the server’s hands still on the push-bar of the serving cart. She smiled at the two men as she started filling the cups. Only when she began pouring the fourth cup did the two men begin to realize that there was more going on than just the floating teapot.

The pot settled back on the table after four cups. Cubes of sugar rose from their bowl and dropped into two of the cups, which then lifted off the table and floated through the air to the Princess and Prince. Twilight murmured a “Thank you,” as the Prince merely nodded. The cups, on their saucers, remained floating to one side of each Royal.

The server turned to the two British men and asked, “Sugar or cream?”

Both watched intently as the cubes of sugar dropped into their cups without a tong or hand touching them, and then the creamer poured a small amount into the cup for Heseltine. The cups and saucers floated over to the tables at their sides and gently set down. Four more cups and saucers floated up from the lower shelf on the cart, and she again poured them full from the same pot that shouldn’t have been able to hold more than it had already been dispensed. After serving the four Ladies, Lady Dash had refused any tea, she poured two more cups, one each for Mr. Yueshi and Castor. She then bowed to the Princess and Prince and left the room, leaving the serving cart to one side.

For a few minutes no words were spoken as they took their tea. Princess Sparkle had told Castor in advance that she would wait for a short while to give the two men a chance to regain their equilibrium.

She took a final sip, put her cup back on the saucer, and floated both down to the small table beside her chair. She cleared her throat to get the attention of the two men. “As Castor told you, Prime Minister, what we have to tell you is very important.

She smiled happily. “First, I want to thank you for allowing us to establish an embassy, and to place our chancery in Little Whinging,” she said sincerely.

Prince Blood nodded his head in acknowledgement, murmuring softly, “Yes, thank you.” The Princess gave him an exasperated look, but said nothing to him.

“We have already established a protective perimeter wall around the portal, itself, and begun clearing the forest debris from the site,” she continued. “Our architects have already started adapting our chancery plans to fit your building codes, and we will begin approaching the architects you provided about building the compound later today.”

The Prime Minister nodded to her, “It was my pleasure. I’m sure both worlds will benefit from having your embassy here, in the United Kingdom.” He glanced over at Castor. “I’m sure Detective Inspector Searle will be happy to act as your guide in London.”

Castor nodded agreeably. It was his job, after all.

Prince Blood smirked and murmured, “Better an Embassy here than in a country you aren’t on good terms with, I’m sure.” He paused. “Or even on good terms.” He quirked an eyebrow, “Correct?”

The Princess gave the Prince another stern look, which he ignored, and then huffed. She turned back to John Major. “Castor told us of your desire to establish an embassy in our world, which we would like to see happen, ourselves. However, there are things you do not know that make that a difficult proposition.” Lady Dash gave an impressive yawn and drifted over their heads to the windows. Lady Rarity and the Prince both gave her disapproving looks.

“As your agents no doubt informed you, the portal is responsible for our appearing to you as people instead of ponies. It took us a bit over two weeks to figure out how to reverse that at will.” She gestured at Lady Dash, who was now sitting upright with her hooves crossed, slowly flapping her wings and looking at the cars in the street, and the men positioned around them. More than one were staring back at her.

Seeing everything you thought you knew about flight binned was more than a little disconcerting.

“And it works in the reverse for someone from this world going over to ours, as your agent, Mr. Carroll, demonstrated.” She frowned. “That forms part of the problem. In pony form, your people are at the functional level of a foal, a child, even though they have an adult pony’s body. Talking, thank Celestia, is not an issue.” She sighed.

“Intellectually, you are unchanged, but you must learn how to walk all over again. Based on experience, it will take several weeks before you master that skill enough to move around without tripping or falling down when just walking or going up and down stairs. Complicating that, of course, is that while you are learning, you will be subconsciously expecting things to be the same as how you walk here, which won’t work well because you’re a quadruped. Your ingrained reflexes will actually work against you.

“And for those that are fortunate enough to gain wings, you must also learn how to fly — a skill that takes years to truly master.” She looked away for a moment, “As I have discovered.”

“Experience?” the Prime Minister said before she could continue.

The Princess blushed slightly. “Yes. While I told Castor,” she nodded in his direction, “that we ‘found’ the portal only recently, we have actually known of its existence for about fifteen months. We just didn’t know exactly where it was.”

The men sat still a moment, considering that.

She smiled wryly. “You see, someone came through the portal into our Everfree Forest from your world a year ago in the spring. They travelled through it about half-a-kilometer before collapsing at the edge of AJ’s family orchard.” She nodded over to Lady Jack. “They had been viciously beaten, and when we found them we rushed them to the local hospital. While they recovered, Guards followed their trail in the Everfree forest. Unfortunately, while that led them to the general area, there is a trick to using the portal that they did not know, preventing them from immediately finding it. I, myself, searched for it quite diligently, several times, without success.” She shook her head, chagrined. “And I am sort of an expert in finding hidden things.”

“This person, when they had recovered enough, declared they did not remember where the portal was, and, in fact, had not realized they had even transformed until they woke in the hospital.”

She frowned as she said, “That was not quite the truth, we recently discovered. They did know where the portal was, but were afraid to tell us. Their situation here was rather unpleasant and they much preferred to stay in our world for reasons I completely understand.”

She gave them another quick grin. “Which is also the reason I have not mentioned either a name or gender. They have been perfectly delightful to be around, and adapted well to our world. They now consider themselves to be Equestrians, and have been granted citizenship by the Princesses.”

The two ministers exchanged concerned looks.

Castor, on the other hand frowned. He knew of someone who was from this area and had allegedly disappeared about fifteen months ago — the Dursleys’ missing nephew. Add to that that Mr. Yueshi, the Equestrians’ solicitor, had mentioned a child being abused at the Dursleys. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots and figure out who this mysterious “they” was — Harry Potter, a child, now eleven.

“We knew it was only a matter of time before we discovered the portal,” Princess Sparkle said, “and thus we put together a series of plans on what to do when that happened. Which included practicing how to walk as a biped.” She looked over at Lady Jack. “Would you demonstrate, AJ?”

“Shurely,” came the quick response. She stood, pulled off her dress, transformed, and started clomping about the room on her hind legs.

If they were startled that she had disrobed so nonchalantly, and that she hadn’t been wearing any underwear, the two men disguised it well.

“As you can see, it’s a bit awkward, but it worked quite well in preparing our people. Just for your information, the entire length of her leg on the floor, from hoof to hock, is the equivalent of your toe-nails-to-heel. If you were to transform into a pony you would actually be walking on your middle fingers’ and toes’ nails. I was told it takes a while to get used to that feeling.

“Through interviews with this person over the last year, we learned much of what to expect in your world, and adapted our plans on what to do if we found this missing portal, accordingly. So far, things are going much better than we had anticipated.”

“Yes,” interrupted the Prince, “One of our scenarios included a situation much like your video ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still.’” He smiled a bit grimly, “At least there aren’t tanks and guards surrounding the house.” He smirked. “At least, not obviously so, correct?” He again raised an eyebrow while looking at the three men.

They smiled back, their expressions carefully blank, but not denying the accusation.

Lady Jack hopped back up on her armchair, remaining a pony.

“And this person’s experience is why we know it will be difficult for you to adapt to walking if someone is transformed in our world.

“And then there are the problems with writing — the skill you need most when operating an embassy. While we do have a quill-holder that can be attached to a hoof, it will still take time to master using it — our transformed friend likened it to writing with the palm of the hand. The quill-holder is actually an invention of this person’s.

“Some of that can be mitigated with typewriters, of course, but it will take a few weeks of practice to master that skill with hooves.”

“However, we discovered when Mr. Yueshi went through the portal that he remained a human.

“And that is where the real problem lies.”

She paused a moment, apparently to gather her thoughts.

“We know why Mr. Yueshi did not change, and why Mr. Carroll did. What we cannot do, just yet, is accurately predict who will and who will not transform when going through the portal. I think I know of a simple solution, but it needs verification. With a dozen or so volunteers, we can easily remedy that problem.” She burst into a bright smile and wriggled slightly. “It will be so much fun doing that research, I can hardly wait.” She sighed happily and stared out the windows for a moment.

“Twilight!” Lady Rarity said sternly. The Princess gave her head a shake and turned to give both men a long look.

“The basic difference between the two men who went through the portal is one of . . . magic,” she said seriously.

Both men raised their eyebrows at this bold, to them, statement. Castor nodded when they looked at him. “That’s why I called you yesterday to arrange this meeting. This is, literally, world changing,” he said softly.

“Magic is real,” the Princess said, “both in our world and in this one. Magic is responsible for this room being bigger on the inside than outside. Magic made it possible to put fourteen cups of tea in a pot that could reasonably be expected to hold only three. Magic made it possible for us to move our cups and saucers around without touching them.” She paused, floated her cup up, and took a sip of her tea to give them time to think.

“Magic is different here than at home,” she continued. “In Equus, magic is everywhere, and it affects everything. And everything on Equus has magic in it. Even the plants. You cannot escape it, or its influence.

“Not all creatures or plants can manipulate magic, obviously, but they still have magic in them.”

She stopped and called out loudly, “Spike! You can come in now.”

All three men stared in silent amazement as a small purple and green bipedal dragon walked into the room from the kitchen.

“Finally,” he said, “I was about to fall asleep in there.”

Their jaws dropped open.

“Spike is my number one assistant!” the Princess said proudly as the Prince rolled his eyes.

“And she’s my mum!” he added. “Hatched me from my egg ten years ago!” He trotted over to her and leaned against her leg as she leaned forward and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Yep, you sure are. And I couldn’t ask for a better son!” She nuzzled the dragon, then turned back to the men. “Here, magic is around, we can feel it and use it, but it is not nearly as intense and pervasive as it is at home. And few creatures here either have it or can manipulate it. So few, in fact, that in our explorations around Little Whinging we have yet to come across any creatures that naturally have or use magic. Or, at least, none that we can detect easily.

“Mr. Yueshi has no magic capability at all, thus he went through the portal unchanged. Mr. Carroll apparently does have some small amount of magic, and thus the portal changed him.” She paused. “When I scanned him after he went through the portal, I found that he had some magical talent, the ability to use magic, but not enough for it to have ever shown itself in your world, except as occasional and random ‘odd things happen around me’ situations.” She smiled. “That’s why we need volunteers. I can scan them for magic and see at what point there is a trigger level for our world’s magic to react to your world’s magic.” She wriggled happily in place. “I can hardly wait!” Then she sighed.

“The problem I alluded to is for those who do not have magic. We have no idea what the implications are for a completely non-magical being to suddenly appear in our magic-saturated world. Will this person gradually adapt and start to develop magic? Will this person suddenly, one day, transform while in our world? Will they remain the same but gradually become able to use magic like we do?

“Or will their body reject the magic around them and make them sick? Will the magic reject them and make them sick? Will the magic flow into them, trying to fill that vacant space, gradually filling them up and then not stopping? Will it pour more and more magic into them until they explode from the stored magic because they cannot do anything to expel the magic as the creatures in our world do naturally just by living and breathing? Or, having never had magic, will they become dependent on it, and thus become ill or die when they come back here, home?

“And while a few hours seem to have no effect, what about longer exposures? Will these symptoms take days, weeks, months, or years to manifest? Will symptoms occur in our world, or only after the person returns home, here? Is there a time limit, where if they return home before that limit is reached, nothing happens?

“Or will nothing at all happen?”

“We simply do . . . not . . . know. And until we can determine what will happen, we cannot, in good conscience, allow your people to come to our world unless they already have some magical capacity. And even then we need to run periodic tests to see if there are cumulative effects that might harm them.”

She leaned back in her chair. “And if we simply refused to let your people set up an embassy without any sort of explanation, we would never be able to establish the level of trust we wish to have with you. You would always wonder why we allowed so little information to flow from us to you while taking as much from you as you will allow.” She sighed. “Hence, our revelations today.” She leaned forward again.

“Complicating everything, however, are your cultural taboos regarding magic. I’ve read in your history how your religions have hunted down and killed those who you thought could do magic. Your official religion here in this country, and several others, even exhorts its followers to ‘not suffer a witch to live.’ According to the newspapers I’ve seen, there are some countries where there are ongoing witch-hunts to this day. Killing people simply because their neighbours are looking for a scapegoat for their own deficiencies. Or maybe those people really can do magic, who knows?” She shrugged. “Although any competent magic user could easily escape an unorganized mob. And in countries where they are not doing that, there are many who feel the same way. This makes us a bit nervous to proclaim that we can do magic. As well as allowing just anyone to visit our world — after all, I’ve read that you have made some of your nuclear weapons small enough to disguise as a standard briefcase.

“So, with those thoughts in mind, we require you to keep our abilities as a secret, to be divulged only to those who have a legitimate need to know. Yes, we know it will eventually come out, but we want to delay that for as long as possible — to give us a chance to establish ourselves as no one’s enemy.”

She paused and smiled. “Naturally, I don’t expect you to immediately agree. And you can, of course, completely ignore our request.” She stopped smiling. “That would, obviously, hinder our relationship quite a bit if there are antagonistic reactions from your people.”

43 — Naked Panic

Author's Notes:

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“In the meantime,” Twilight said, “as long as you are here, would you like to see a bit more of magic? Not just, as someone put it, ‘parlour tricks’?”

Both men nodded and said, “Yes, please.”

She smiled happily and picked up a small box on the table at her side. She floated it over to the Prime Minister. “Here,” she said, “take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

He took the floating item and examined it. “It looks like a small replica of a standard travel trunk.” He hefted it in his hand. “Weighs about as much as a pack of cards.” He looked at her questioningly.

She floated the ‘replica’ from his hand and placed it on the floor between them. She walked over to it and crouched. She looked to her right, at him, smirked, pressed the emblem that took up much of the top, and stepped back. There was a moment’s silence as they all just stared at the tiny trunk. Then, it abruptly started to grow larger.

All three men sat back in their chairs.

There, in front of them, was a standard travel trunk. A third of a meter tall, two-thirds of a meter wide, and a full meter long.

Lady Dash laughed at their expression. Lady Rarity said, smirking, “Makes travel much easier when you can carry all your luggage in your pocket.”

The men exchanged amazed glances. Castor knew this technique alone would revolutionize travel and shipping everywhere. Were there limits on the size of the things that could be shrunken? He imagined an entire cargo ship of goods small enough to carry aboard a plane. No more weeks or months spent at sea, or cargo lost as ships sank in storms or collisions. Near instant delivery of goods across the world. Even big lorry deliveries could be made by motorcycle, reducing traffic and fuel usage.

Except, he realized, what about weight? If the weight remained the same no one could lift the shrunken items. But the Equestrians didn’t seem bothered by that issue. And if it was a problem, they wouldn’t so casually talk of putting a trunk weighing dozens of kilograms in a pocket!

“Pick it up,” invited Lady Jack, snickering.

Cautiously, knowing there was a trick involved from the barely restrained giggling coming from Lady Dash, who had turned from the windows and was now watching them, Major stood and walked over to the trunk. He grabbed the middle handle and gingerly lifted it. It rose easily. He gave the Equestrians a disbelieving look. “It’s heavier than before!”

The Princess nodded. “Yes, it has what is known as a feather-weight charm on it that reduces its weight when it’s shrunken to pocket size. Plus, it will never weigh more than about triple what it weighs now no matter what you place in it.”

The Prime Minister frowned. “So, it’s empty?”

She grinned, “Not quite. Lay it back down and open it.”

Again, expecting a trick, he cautiously followed her instructions.

The trunk was empty.

“Watch,” she said, stepping into the trunk as Major stepped back to give her room.

As soon as she was standing in the trunk, she started to go down. The men watched, wide-eyed, as she rather quickly disappeared into the trunk. They all three moved closer and looked inside to see her waving at them as she sank into a room below them.

“Gangway,” shouted Lady Dash, diving into the trunk before the Princess reached the bottom. Startled, they all stepped back, hearing laughter coming from below them. The Prime Minister bent down and picked up the trunk by its handle, angling it so they could see that there really wasn’t a hole through the floor. He set it back down.

“When the elevator gets back up there, just step inside to join me. There’s more to show you down here,” the Princess said.

“Hurry,” cried Lady Pie from inside the trunk, “There’s cake in the kitchen.”

How had she gotten past them?

Thus began a short tour that had both ministers almost physically drooling at what this ‘alien technology’ would do for England.

That was the best way to present it to the public, the two men later decided. After all, hadn’t a British science-fiction writer once said, “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”? And this certainly fit that description!

And Wootten later instructed Castor, “The word magic is to be stricken from your vocabulary. It is ‘Alien Technology.’ If you hear someone refer to it as magic, you are to correct them. Laugh and say, ‘Yes, it does look like that sometimes, but it’s not, it’s simply a highly-advanced alien technology.’ Or words to that effect. And the aliens’ abilities are to be called telekinesis, should anyone see them.”

But for now they were awed at the potential this one ‘technology’ could provide. Housing would no longer be a problem. Nor urban sprawl. No longer would space be a problem in London. Even the smallest efficiency flat could be a full-sized, luxurious four-bedroom home with a spacious kitchen, dining-room, lounge, sitting-room, smoking-room, and four and a half bathrooms. Not to mention the implications it had for cars and lorries — a smaller vehicle that would provide more room on the expressways, deliver better mileage because of the decrease in size and weight, and yet have more room inside for passenger comfort and cargo. If it could be integrated properly, their competition would be left wondering just what the bloody hell the British had done!

In fact, you could turn a small lorry into a mobile mansion that would put Castle Howard to shame.

Castor, on the other hand, and because of his previous career in the Sport and Social, was more concerned with the military implications — an L86 automatic rifle with grenade launcher and sighting systems reduced from ten kilograms to less than half-a-kilogram, including tiny magazines that could hold thousands of rounds and hundreds of grenades. You would never have to reload in the field, nor worry about running out of ammo in any except the most extreme cases. Your fire limit would probably be when the barrel melted — but there was probably a magical fix for that, too. And a small card-sized pack on your equipment belt that could hold weeks of rations, all the necessary toiletries, and as many changes of clothes as you could want. Or even a modest one-room cabin with fully-stocked kitchen, shower, and toilet! Even the most rugged terrain imaginable would suddenly be easily tolerable. Suddenly, military mobility sky-rocketed. Military planes that could fly around the world without refuelling, and not have to pay a penalty in carrying all that extra weight. Nor ever be concerned about re-arming after firing their weapons. A single jet could have the firepower of an entire squadron.

On the other hand, and very troubling, was that this space compression meant an invasion force with hundreds, or thousands, of troops, with all their equipment, could easily slip through the portal in a single rucksack. If the ponies weren’t telling the truth about themselves and what they wanted, then humans were well and truly boned.

And if terrorists got their hands on this? Or drug smugglers? The damage that a single person could do would be incalculable. He would have to ask the Equestrians if they had a way to detect people using this magic. And if they said no, hope they were wrong.

After having finished both the cider and some of the best cake they had ever tasted, which Lady Pinkie had insisted they sample, they returned up to the house. They had no sooner arrived when a man rushed in the front door. “Princess Twilight Sparkle,” he gasped, coming to attention as soon as he saw her in the sitting-room. “Princess Celestia . . . ,” he stopped and looked at the three non-Equestrians, then rapidly moved closer to the Princess and spoke to her quietly. Her eyes got bigger, then her pupils narrowed down, and she started breathing heavily.

“Oh my gosh!” she said startled. “Oh my gosh,” she repeated aghast. She suddenly changed to a pony and began trotting in place. She looked over at three men. “Princess Celestia would like to meet you, Prime Minister! She’s waiting just on the other side of the portal! Oh my gosh! I never expected her to do that so soon!” She began pacing back and forth. “I should have known she would want to meet the Prime Minister today. What’s wrong with me?” she wailed. “She’s going to be so disappointed! What am I going to do? What should I do first?” Stray hairs began poking straight out from her mane, giving her the appearance of someone slightly unhinged, and becoming more so by the moment.

From the way the others were rolling their eyes and face-palming, Castor got the idea that the panic the purple pony was going through was normal.

“I didn’t even think of her meeting the Prime Minister today — just canceling her daily court session and coming here! I didn’t even think of that! I left that completely off my list!” She gasped, and a scroll suddenly flew up out the bag on the floor by her chair, with what looked like a quill and inkpot. The scroll unrolled across the floor as she frantically began to scan it. “This changes everything!” she cried out, and the quill began to fly across the scroll. She darted over to the Prime Minister and sat, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes, ears laid back, chin quivering, one hoof lifted beseechingly, “You will agree to meet her, won’t you?” In the background, the quill was scratching away at the scroll. Spike, the dragon, was shaking his head and sighing while watching her.

And, right there, Castor realized the human race was doomed. Only the most heartless, vicious criminals would be able to resist those puppy-dog eyes and posture. Humanity’s only hope was that the ponies never realized their hidden power.

John Major never had a chance. He stared down at the terminally-cute and adorable purple-pony, sighed, and said, “Why yes, of course I will. If she travelled all the way from Canterlot to the portal, it would be churlish of me to not reciprocate.”

“Oh thank you, thank you,” she cried hurling herself at him, hugging his waist and burying her head against his chest. “You don’t know what this means to me!” she said, half-muffled by her position. Castor watched as the Prime Minister stroked the back of Princess Sparkle’s head with a bemused expression.

“TWILIGHT!” Lady Rarity said, disapprovingly. Lady Rainbow took a more direct approach, after an exaggerated eye roll, and flew over to her and began prying her friend off the Prime Minister. Spike joined her.

“Please excuse my . . . cousin,” Prince Blood said to the Prime Minister and his Deputy. “She is very obsessive about her plans, she creates a new list daily of everything she thinks will happen.” He paused. “Every contingency is covered. So when something unexpected happens that she didn’t include, she gets quite excitable.” He gave a disapproving look at her.

“Twi, calm down or you’ll make us late to meet the Princess,” Spike said.

Princess Sparkle suddenly bolted backwards a step, half-crouching. “Princess Celestia is waiting!” The bag beside the chair suddenly flew across the room and wrapped into place on her back, the quill, inkpot, and scroll following rapidly and hovering over her back, the quill still making notes. Just as suddenly, Spike floated up into the air and onto her back.

There was a flash of light, the tinkling of bells, and the Princess, Spike, and her writing implements disappeared.

The three men stared at the empty spot where she had been. The Equestrians all sighed deeply. Prince Blood was holding his hand to his face, with his eyes closed.

The Prime Minister looked up. “What just happened?”

Prince Blood sighed, again, and answered quietly. “She teleported to the portal. It’s a skill all alicorns possess. Once she realizes we aren’t there, she’ll come right . . . .”

There was another flash of light and tinkling of bells, and Twilight reappeared, looking even more frazzled than before. Spike appeared to be just as dazzled as the rest of them.

“. . . back.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried running in a small circle, ending facing the two ministers. “I’ll take you right there!”

“Wait!” cried Lady Rarity, as they suddenly appeared inside the tent. Fortunately, no one had been seated. The three humans gasped at the abrupt transition. Twilight spun to run down the centre aisle to the portal. “Hurry, Celestia’s waiting . . . .”

“Woah there, honey,” Lady Jack said, not quite tackling the mare, but wrapping her forelegs around the distraught princess. “You don’t want Princess Celestia to see you in a panic!” She started rocking her slightly. “Remember what Cadence said, deep breaths, deep breaths,” the mare said. “Breath in through the snout . . . hold it . . . breath out through the muzzle.” She suited her actions to her words and prompted the purple pony to follow suit.

After several repetitions, Princess Sparkle’s mane no longer looked so frazzled and she began to calm down. After another moment, she stopped and looked around the room.

Castor was amazed to see that he could actually see her face turn red through her fur as she blushed, realizing how she had acted.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the floor, then looking up at the three men. “It’s just that . . . well, Princess Celestia is waiting . . . .”

Prince Blood said, “Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister.” He inclined his head slightly, “Welcome to the portal station on the Equestrian Embassy grounds. The doors on the left and right,” he gestured towards them with his cane, “lead to changing rooms for those people who change when going through the portal.” He smiled. “It is easier to change clothes while in human form. There are suitable robes available in each room for humans to wear to maintain modesty while transitioning. They are easily put on or removed when in either form.” He smiled at them.

“We provide these for our guests, as we usually do not wear clothes in our world except as protection in certain jobs and as status symbols, and thus, are not perturbed by their lack.”

He turned to the princess. “Princess Twilight, will any of our guests today need to use the changing rooms?” He glared at her sternly.

“Oh, er.” She looked at him, abashed. “Let me check.” She turned to the three humans and studied them a moment. “I’m going to cast a spell. It won’t harm you. I’m merely looking to see if you have enough magic to transform to a pony when you go through the portal.” She stared at them, concentrating.

Princess Twilight grinned at Castor. “The Prime Minister John Major and Deputy Prime Minister Michael Heseltine will have no problems going through the portal. Detective Inspector Searle, however, should probably put on one of the robes, just in case.”

Prince Blood nodded. “Excellent.” He looked at the two men. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be just a moment.” He looked at Castor and gestured at the door on the right, which, Castor noticed, now had the emblem of man on it. The Prince followed him into the changing room.

The Prince Blood removed and carefully folded his jacket, and then placed it in a basket with his name on it. The basket was on a shelf with many others, all named. A second shelf, a bit lower had empty baskets, none named. On the opposite wall were a series of hooks with multi-coloured robes, a bench below them.

Castor started removing his jacket. The moment his jacket was in the basket, his name appeared on the front. Momentarily non-plussed, he stared at it, then shrugged and continued to undress.

Both wearing a robe, Castor followed the ambassador out the other door into the hall to the portal, joining the two ministers and Princess Sparkle, now also wearing a robe.

“I shall go first, Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister,” the Prince said. “Just walk at a normal pace. You’ll notice the sign just above our heads with the name Sweet Apple Acres. There will be a slight moment of disorientation. There is a railing on the other side, just like this side, so if you feel the need for that reassurance, just grab the railing.” He nodded at them and then walked into the tree, disappearing.

“Would you like me to go first?” asked Castor quietly.

Major gave a quick shake of his head, then strode towards the tree, followed quickly by Heseltine, and then Castor.

The experience was at once strange, and yet at the same time, not that strange. It was like walking into a photographic darkroom through a “light-lock.” One moment you’re in brightly lit closet, then it’s darker as the wooden door behind you closes, then lit again as the wooden door in front of you opens. Only in this case, he stepped outside and promptly fell to his hands and knees.

Only, they weren’t his hands and knees, he was standing on hooves.

Both Major and Heseltine were staring at him as he looked up at them. It was difficult to say who was more surprised. It was one thing to have someone say, this might happen, and another to actually see it happen.

Suddenly he was lifted up and moved to one side and put back down. Before he could panic, though, he heard the Princess behind him say, “Yes! I thought that was sufficient magic!” He looked over his shoulder to see the purple Princess standing beside and slightly behind him. “Congratulations, Mr. Searle, you are a pegasus!” She smiled at him, hopping in place, as if proud of an achievement. “You’ll have difficulty walking, at first,” she continued, so let me carry you in my magic.”

He felt his feet and hands . . . hooves . . . lift off the wooden deck. He looked down and saw that he was floating a few centimeters in the air. Then it hit him. Pegasus? He turned his head. He had wings! The mere thought of them made them shoot out, almost like he was flexing a muscle on the back of his shoulders. Unfortunately, that reaction had him smacking the Princess in the face with his wing.

“Ack!” she said stepping back.

The wings folded back down almost as fast as they had extended.

“I’m sorry” he said, hurriedly, “I didn’t know they would do that.”

Lady Dash was already laughing at him, and the others were covering their mouths with a hoof, snickering.

“It’s okay,” Princess Sparkle said dismissively. “You’ll learn to control them, later.”

“Yeah,” said the Rainbow Dash, “you shoulda seen how many times Twi knocked things over in the library or gave somepony a face full of feathers before she learned to control her wings!” And laughed some more.

“PRINCESS CELESTIA!” Twilight suddenly exclaimed and Castor abruptly found himself several meters away from where he had been, facing a beautiful white horse with both wings and a very long horn. And she looked much more like a horse than the ponies looked like ponies, with long delicate legs. Even sitting, she towered over the ponies around her. Her most striking feature, though, was her extremely long and gorgeous mane, which seemed to be made of green, blue, violet, and pink hair that weaved and wove like flames in a breeze that he couldn’t feel.

Castor had had the opportunity to see many horses in his travels, and he could say that, without a doubt, this one put all the others to shame. Not only was she immaculately groomed, but she seemed to slightly glow and radiated a faint heat. Her regal appearance was helped by the gold crown on her head and the gold . . . it was too big to be a necklace . . . chest piece, both with an enormous purple gem centred on them. The gold shoes on her hooves certainly contributed to that image. She was seated before a low table with a tea service in place. She was watching the purple alicorn with more than a little amusement.

“Good morning, Twilight,” she paused to take a genteel sip of her tea. “Why don’t you introduce your guests?”

Once that bit of purple-panic had finally calmed down, with another time-out for the excitable princess to practice her breathing exercise, the eleven of them were seated in armchairs — the three humans — or on pillows around the table with Princess Celestia, and enjoying a cup of quite excellent tea.

“Thank you for coming through the portal, Prime Minister Major, Deputy Prime Minister Heseltine. I always find it makes things easier when the ones in charge meet each other. I hope that today we will be able to begin a long and fruitful association.”

Castor knew he should have paid more attention to what was being said, but he was too involved in trying to figure out just how it was that a pony, himself, with hooves instead of hands, somehow managed to grasp the handle of a tea cup. It should have been impossible. The hooves were hard keratin. He verified that by with a mild tap against the side of his head. Yet, somehow, he could see it flex and bend around the cup-handle and actually hold the bloody cup as he drank from it.

He did notice, though, that oddly enough, the things that seemed to attract the ponies’ ruler’s attention the most, as they talked, were in the category of literature, both written and audio/video, and music. The technical items didn’t seem to be of as much interest. Princess Twilight, however was entranced by the subjects of technology and science, with Princess Celestia gently moving the conversation away from that whenever it came up.

By the time they had finished several cups of tea, the Prime Minister had secured a promise that several pony doctors would come to the portal to examine some human patients to see if their “technology” would work. Once they had a few successes on this side, they would try them on the other, and then see about expanding their services to the general population.

Similarly, explanations and classes on their “space” expansion and feather-weight “technology” were tentatively scheduled.

As they were standing, however, the Prime Minister stopped and looked at the Equestrian ruler, who was on eye level with him.

“There is one other thing.” He paused for a long moment, clearly debating whether he should speak. “Princess Twilight has said that your ponies, in their explorations around Little Whinging, and London, haven’t discovered any people who could do magic.” He paused and looked at Princess Celestia.

She tilted her head questioningly.

The Prime Minister looked at his Deputy, then back at her. “In view of the fact some of our people do have magic,” he nodded his head at Castor, “would it surprise you to know that there is an entire group of people who know all about magic? And can use it?”

Heseltine stared at him, clearly surprised, as did Castor and Yueshi.

Celestia smiled. “I would expect it, actually,” she said softly. “After all, it takes more than a little magic to create a portal, even by accident.”

Still smiling, she added, “And yes, we have met them. In fact, they came to us, first, not that they knew of the portal, or even that it exists.”

She turned slightly to look at the startled alicorn. “My most faithful student, Twilight, has already met them.” She giggled delicately, “They think we are from a place in your world they call Atlantis. An island hidden from the rest of your world through powerful magics.”

She looked back at the Minister.

He and the others were staring at her.

“They have told us of their Statute of Secrecy,” she continued, “of keeping themselves separate from the normal population. We, of course, abided by their wishes and haven’t mentioned them to any of your people. And, naturally, we haven’t mentioned our desire to establish relations with your world to them.

“The fact that we are, demonstrably, from a different world means that our use of magic in no way indicates the presence of their hidden society. As long as they behave themselves they are in no danger of being exposed.”

She smirked. “In fact, it will help them. Once the public discovers our abilities, many of the wizards’ accidentally-seen small magical displays will be attributed to us. Which will draw attention away from their society.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Will you be telling them of our conversations?”

Slowly, the Prime Minister shook his head. “I have no way to contact them. I only know of their existence because their Prime Minister introduced himself to me on the first day I was in office. He said that, with luck, we would never talk again, that he would only contact me in the event of an emergency.” He paused.

“There is a portrait in my office that is supposed to be my link to their side, but I’m not sure how it works. It just started speaking to me that day, telling me the Magical Prime Minister wanted to see me. I don’t know if it works the other way.” He shuddered. “I use my office only for myself, all meeting with other officials takes place in meeting rooms, without paintings. I would abandon it completely, but then they might do something else.” He scowled. “They probably have spies watching us.”

She nodded. “Yes, they do seem to be a bit arrogant in their dealings with normal people. Perhaps you should try to contact them and tell them aliens from far away have contacted you and you felt they should know. And then we shall see what they say. Use words other than magic to describe our abilities, if it comes up, such as what you call Extra Sensory Perception.” She gave her head a little shake at the thought of such a simple thing being called that. “Or, specifically, telekinesis, which Twilight tells me our magic most frequently looks like. Just insist it’s not magic but ESP or telekinesis.” She smirked again. “That way they can’t say they weren’t warned when they discover the truth. You will be blameless. And you have told them nothing but the truth.” She smiled serenely.

Back in Little Whinging, as the two ministers were getting ready to leave, Princess Sparkle said, “Before you go, you should take these with you.” A woman came outside the house carrying two fabric briefcases. “These two briefcases have the expansion charm on them. They have about half-a-cubic meter of space inside them.” She smirked. “Physical proof so those to whom you tell the secret won’t think you have — what’s the phrase? — gone completely bloody barking barmy?”

Watching as the four cars pulled away, Castor turned to the Princess. “That was certainly impressive,” he said.

She smiled at him. “I hope they agree to keep our secret.”

He smiled back. “I can’t imagine them saying no.”

She grinned happily.

“On the other hand,” his expression turned serious, as did his tone. “I have to ask in my capacity as a member of the Surrey Police, what can you tell me about Harry Potter?”

44 — Beginnings

Castor and his two associates followed Miss Arrow into the dining-room at number Eleven Magnolia Road, early Wednesday morning. A boy was seated at the table, with three girls seated beside him. Princess Sparkle stood behind them, a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy was visibly shivering and looked ready to bolt at any moment. The solicitor, Lin Yueshi, stood behind the girls, beside Twilight.

“Princess Sparkle,” Miss Arrow said, “Detective Inspector Searle is here.” She stood aside as they walked past her.

“Good morning, Princess Sparkle, Mr. Yueshi,” Castor said. He turned to the short man beside him carrying a box only slightly larger than a regular briefcase. “I would like to introduce Mr. Rob Renzetti, the court recorder for this case,” he turned to the woman just entering the room. “And Mrs. Sarah Wall, of Child Services, who will represent Mr. Potter’s interests during this interview.”

Normally, an interview such as this would take place at the police station or at one of the Child Services facilities. However, Twilight had been quite adamant that it take place here. She had said, “He has no faith in any authorities in the human world. He is terrified that you will just take him, and hand him over to the Dursleys, despite any assurances you or I can offer to the contrary.” She had sighed. “Just getting him to agree to meet you will take a bit of convincing. And at any sign you might take him, he will disappear faster than you can blink.”

Her tone had hardened. “As I have said, he is now a citizen of Equestria, and Princess Celestia takes the safety of her subjects very seriously.”

In other words, the usual practice of moving the child of arrested individuals to a foster home would not be allowed, and might cause an international — interplanetary? — incident. Fortunately, having the sovereign ruler of a nation as the “foster parent” made the situation a bit easier. The normal questions of living arrangements and monetary liquidity were a non-issue. Nor the ability to care for a child.

It had been decided that they would only take action to remove the boy should it become obvious he didn’t want to stay with the Princess.

“Mr. Renzetti, Mrs. Wall, I would like to introduce you to Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

The court recorder nodded to the woman, set his box on the table, and opened it. He removed a small machine that looked somewhat like a typewriter, but had far fewer keys, and set it on the table. Then he pulled out a small tape recorder and started it.

While he did this, Twilight said, “This is Harry Potter,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “And these three are friends of his, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom.”

Castor nodded to Harry, smiling, “Good. It’s always easier when we know what the people in a case look like.”

He sat at the end of the table and glanced at Rob, who nodded. “All right, the recording is on. Today is Wednesday, August 28, 1991.” He glanced at the stenographer who was typing away, making a physical copy in case there was a problem with the recording. “I am Detective Inspector Castor Searle of the Surrey Police Department. With me is Mr. Rob Renzetti, the court recorder, and Mrs. Sarah Wall, of Child Services, to interview Mr. Harry Potter, an eleven-year-old boy, about the circumstances regarding his living with the Dursley family. Present, at the moment, are Twilight Sparkle, Harry Potter, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom. The last three are Mr. Potter’s same-age friends. Miss Sparkle is his guardian pro tempore. Also present is Lin Yueshi, solicitor for Miss Sparkle and Mr. Potter.

“Miss Sparkle, Mr. Yueshi,” he said, turning to face them, “As I told you, we need to conduct this interview in private. We’ve discovered that children tend to be unwilling to divulge information when their guardians, siblings, or friends are present. They are afraid that what they will say will upset or disappoint the others. Hence, Mrs. Wall, here.

“It is Mrs. Wall’s job to ensure that the questioning is reasonable and that no one tries to trick or force statements from Mr. Potter that might be misleading or outright untrue.” He looked directly at the seated children. “And to prevent badgering from overly enthusiastic officers.

“This is not a custody inquiry,” he continued, “and questions regarding that issue will not be brought up. We are concerned only with the matter at hand, an inquiry into Harry Potter's situation at the Dursley household for the last ten years, and what he can tell us about it.”

Twilight nodded in understanding. They had already gone over all this. At great length. He was repeating it now for the benefit of Harry and the girls. And the recording.

“Excellent!” said the princess. “I’ve explained to Harry,” she squeezed his shoulder in her hand, “that you have some questions for him regarding his relatives, and that he should be as truthful as possible.”

“Before we begin,” Castor said, “may I take a picture of you, Mr. Potter? We have been unable to find any pictures whatsoever, and there are some suggestions that you . . . are no longer alive.”

Softly, Harry said, “Yes, sir.”

Nodding, Castor took a camera out of the court recorders’ box and gestured for Harry to stand up. Then for his friends to move aside.

Once that was taken care of, he said, “Thank you, Mr. Potter. Now, Miss Sparkle, if you would be so kind as to give us some privacy.”

Smiling at Harry and offering a quick, “Just relax, Harry, everything will be fine,” she ushered the three girls out of the room, closing the door behind her. Mr. Yueshi moved over to sit beside Harry. He smiled at the boy. “I shall remain with you, Mr. Potter, as a witness for Miss Sparkle. If you have any questions about the questions, how to answer them, or want help in any way, just ask me. Anything you say in here is in legal confidence and I shall not repeat anything you say to anyone, not even Miss Sparkle, without your permission. Understand?”

Harry nodded, obviously relieved, and relaxed a bit.

“Miss Sparkle and the three girls have left the room, leaving only myself, Mrs. Wall, Mr. Renzetti, Mr. Yueshi, and Mr. Potter in the room.” Castor said, for the benefit of the recorder.

“First of all, Mr. Potter,” he continued, “I only wish to determine your situation with the Dursleys. This has nothing to do with guardianship or changing your current arrangements. I ask that you tell us the truth, as you know it, as much as you can remember, and without any unneeded embellishments. If you think of something after we’ve moved on to another point, feel free to interrupt and add that information, or correct anything you might have said up to that point. Understand?”

Mrs. Wall added. “And if you become thirsty or want a break, just ask.” She opened her over-sized purse and drew out a small teddy bear. “Here,” she said smiling, “I’ve found that having a plush to hold sometimes makes these things easier.”

Harry nodded uncertainly to the detective, and took hold of the bear, clasping it to his chest.

“We’ll start with the easy stuff. What is your full name?”

They took a break after the first hour, then another at the second hour. They finished shortly before lunch.

Castor was very glad that Twilight had admitted that Harry Potter was in her custody, and had been ever since he had run away. She could have stone-walled him, and he would have been left only with suspicions. Her position in the Equestrian government, and their complete isolation from Earth would have made finding Harry impossible.

And the information the boy had provided had fit nicely with what they had learned from his school teachers and the neighbours. It had filled in many of the gaps they had had in their case. And it was clear from the boy's interactions with the others during the breaks that his new situation was much preferred, and Castor doubted that Child Services could provide a better environment.

While the other adults were angered and dismayed by what they had learned, Castor was simply furious. If he ever caught up with either of the Dursley adults when they were finally released, which wouldn’t be for quite a few years based on the evidence they had, he would be more than happy to share his opinion to the lowlifes. At great volume. And if he were retired at the time, maybe with his fists adding the punctuation. The fine, and the few weeks at the Queen’s Pleasure, would be worth it.

As for the present, the boy was happy with living with the princess. And the way Twilight and the three girls had rushed to console him each time he came out of the room, and were now in the room with him, well he had a very good support group. Friends who would stay with him.

Castor saw no reason why the Princess should not be given official custody of the boy.

And he knew a few people in high places who could make that happen. Best to wait, though, until after the Dursleys were convicted and sentenced.

In the meantime, he would not waste time thinking about it. A trick he had learned in the Sport and Social, future problems belong in the future, concentrate on the problems in front of you! He just made a small note in his notebook-calendar regarding that issue.

Castor led Princess Twilight and the rest of her entourage into the small theatre on a small military base to the north of London. It was just after six o’clock on Thursday evening. The ladies took the seats that were arranged to one side of the podium that stood centre-stage at the front of the theatre.

He stood behind the podium and looked out at the people gathered in front of him. There were only a hundred and seven of them, leaving most of the theatre empty. He could see them eyeing the unusual lengths and colours of the Equestrians' hair. There were many appreciative looks, as well as some disapproving ones. The smarter ones, or at least the more observant ones, noticed the other half-dozen women and men, with equally unusual hair-colour and lengths, as they positioned themselves at the edges of the stage and the back of the theatre. Each paired with an officer from MI5.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Castor started. “I want to first say thank you for volunteering for this study.” He swept his gaze across them. “But before we go any farther I must remind you that everything you see, hear, and do from the moment you volunteered for this study is classified as top-secret. You are, under no circumstances, to communicate to anyone anything you see, hear, or experience while you are participating in it, except when you are being debriefed by authorized personnel of Her Majesty’s government. This includes not discussing any details with your fellow participants in the study.

“The ladies on this stage and I,” he gestured at the six, “are the exceptions. You are to answer our questions at all times with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as you know it. There may be others, in the future, to whom such discretion is also given.

“These conditions will probably be lifted at the end of the study, and you can brag to your children and grandchildren that you took part in this study. And it will be something to brag about, as you will see.” He gave them all a stern look.

“I will repeat what you have already been told regarding this study. Failure to comply with these restrictions will result in your removal from the study, forfeiture of any bonuses, and, under certain circumstances, could result in a charge of treason under the Official Secrets Act.”

There were looks, and a little muttering, between the members of the group.

“Before we begin, though, I require that you state you understand these conditions and have no intention of discussing this study or your participation in it with anyone not authorized by the Her Majesty’s Government, including spouses, family, or significant others.” He smiled wryly. “Yes, I know you all signed non-disclosure agreements when you signed up for this study, this is the last step.” He sighed. “It will take a bit of time. Come up by rows onto the left side of the stage,” he pointed for clarity.

Castor, Twilight, and Applejack waited as the first person approached and stopped before them.

“Do you intend to discuss this with anyone not authorized by Her Majesty’s Government?” asked Castor as Applejack stared at the man intensely. Beside her, while the man was distracted, Twilight was checking to see if the man had any detectable magic.

The man snapped to attention, indicating he was a military volunteer, “Sir! No, Sir!” Applejack smiled and nodded at the man. Castor said, “Excellent. Thank you.”

They turned to the next person, a woman.

They were almost to the end when he saw Applejack frown and shake her head slightly.

Castor stopped and took another look at the man, who returned his look curiously, glancing between him and Applejack. Castor sighed, turned, and waved over a man waiting at the edge of the stage. They waited as he came over.

“I’m sorry,” Castor said to the volunteer, “but you cannot participate in the study. Mr. Carroll, here, will escort you back to London. Thank you for your time, though. Please wait at the side of the stage until we are finished.” They watched silently as the two walked off. Castor sighed. That man was going to have an especially interesting evening tonight, and day tomorrow. He hoped the volunteer had merely wanted to share the excitement of his participation in the “secret” study with his wife or girlfriend. If not . . . well, it was possible Applejack had uncovered a sleeper spy.

The Princess had insisted Lady Applejack meet every one of the volunteers as they answered a question about keeping this a secret. She had assured him that Lady Applejack would somehow know if the individual was lying. He wasn’t sure exactly how she was doing it, but, sadly, Twilight had also assured him that this was a skill unique to the pony in question. MI5 would have loved to get their hands on a way to uncover spies with a series of simple questions.

They finally finished. As the three waited for the last row to return to their seats, Twilight leaned close and said, with more than a bit of disappointment, “None had any trace of magic I could detect.” She was almost pouting. Castor watched Mr. Carroll and his guest exit the theatre.

He nodded his understanding. “You can sit now,” he said to the two women, “you don’t have to stand up here with me.”

They returned to their seats.

He took a deep breath and looked at the remaining men and women. “Thank you all. Is there anyone who wants to change their mind and leave the study? Now is your last chance. You will still be held to the terms of the non-disclosure agreement, though.”

No one moved. A few looked back at the doors at the rear of the theatre where the two men had exited.

“Excellent.

“I’m sure you have all heard the conspiracy-theorists saying that,” he paused, then said in a dramatic tone, “aliens . . . walk . . . among us.” He held his arms up like a bad actor pretending horror as he stepped back from the podium, mouth partially open in pretended shock.

They all stared at him. A few chuckled.

He stepped back to the podium and adopted a serious expression.

“Up until last month, those were just that, conspiracy theories, nothing based in fact.” A few frowns had begun to appear. “Last month, aliens, true aliens, beings not born on our world, aliens from a planet called Equus, discovered a portal, a doorway, if you will, to our world.” Practically everyone had raised eyebrows at hearing that, and a few startled exclamations of disbelief and surprise as they exchanged uncertain looks.

“Last week, a group of these aliens approached a member of Her Majesty’s government and asked to establish an embassy. Naturally, once we were convinced that this wasn’t some sort of hoax, we asked to reciprocate, to establish an embassy in their world.” He had their full attention, although quite a few were staring at the women on the stage with a dawning understanding.

“That’s why you are here today. That’s what this study is all about. And why it must remain a secret for the time being.” He studied his audience. Some were grinning, some were frowning, and some had blank expressions. “I’m sure you can all imagine the panic and chaos that would result should this information suddenly be released on an unsuspecting public.

“While their world and our world appear to be completely compatible, the aliens — they call themselves ponies,” that got a few looks of disbelief, “we’ll get to that in a moment” he explained, “the ponies mentioned that there might be an issue with long-term side-effects from living in their world. They are willing to take their chances in ours, but couldn’t, in good conscience, allow us to proceed unwarned.” He paused.

“You, ladies and gentlemen, will be among the first people to step onto a foreign world. Excluding astronauts who went to the Moon, there have been only five others who have made that trip, myself included. One of them has spent a considerable amount of time there, so we know for a fact that there is no immediate danger that we can detect. Unfortunately, his situation is unique, and rare, and cannot be necessarily extrapolated to the majority of Earth’s population.”

“That was why you all underwent such thorough physicals. For you who are not scientists, that established a baseline of your physical conditions, to help us catch any deviations as soon as practical.

“There is a second group of volunteers, who are being briefed in a separate location, acting as the control group.

“Before we proceed, however, you should know that the portal changes some of the people who go through it to match the native inhabitants. It has done the reverse for the ponies. And they call themselves ponies for a reason.” He turned to Twilight and raised an eyebrow. She grinned and gestured to one of the guards.

The woman nodded, having been forewarned, walked to up to the podium on the opposite side from the seated Ladies. A moment later, a waist-high pegasus stood in her place. She proudly stretched her wings wide and posed for a few moments, and then flapped them a few times, lifting herself into the air, before gently touching back down.

The entire audience was speechless.

She flapped her wings again and took a long, slow, lazy flight over the heads of the volunteers.

Lady Dash tsked, “Oh, come on.”

“Dash,” said Twilight, but it was already too late.

The audience watched, astonished as the addressed woman darted from her chair and ran to the front of the stage, leaping off it into the audience. The people in front of her gave startled yells, expecting her land on top of them. Instead, they watched with open mouths, as she transformed in mid-air into a second pegasus and zoomed out across the theatre.

The other pegasus just watched her approach. Rainbow Dash flew right up to the other, tapped her shoulder, and yelled, “TAG, you’re it!” and darted away.

After a startled moment, the other grinned and took off after her.

The next few minutes were an aerial display unlike anything the humans had ever seen. Flips, barrel-rolls, hair-pin turns, and abrupt changes in altitude all proved to the audience that these were not actors flying on hidden wires.

Finally, Twilight stood, and yelled, “Dash! That’s quite enough!”

A moment later, the two pegasi were settling down on the stage, the guard beside Dash looking a little bit abashed. The guard smoothly changed back to her human shape — they had learned how to transform as the wizards did, taking their clothes with them — and went back to her position at the side of the stage.

Rainbow Dash just grinned unrepentantly and jumped up to hover over the stage, her fore-legs crossed as she sat in mid-air. Everyone was staring at that impossible stunt.

Castor picked up where he had stopped. “A pegasus is only one of the major pony types, there are also unicorn, earth, night, crystal pegasus, crystal earth, and Saddle Arabian ponies.”

Beside him, Ladies Fluttershy, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Applejack transformed as he named their types.

“You, however, will not change.” There were a few disappointed looks, and not a few “Awws,” in disappointment.

“That was part of the selection process. Being hoofed creatures, ponies cannot hold a pen or pencil in their hooves, nor can they use a typewriter with any proficiency. Which would make it very difficult for an embassy staff to operate, now wouldn’t it? Not to mention the difficulty guards would have operating their equipment.”

It was a rhetorical question, but he could see that the recruits could see the logic.

“And while the ponies have their own methods of writing, I have been told it takes years of practice to become more than adequate at making letters and numbers that are actually recognizable. Time we don’t have.” He took a deep breath.

“The portal, from what the ponies tell us, is supposed to adapt whomever goes through it to whatever world they are going to.” All of the ponies, except Rainbow Dash, transformed back to humans. “This means that when they come here, their bodies are perfectly adapted to surviving and living here.” He turned and grinned at Twilight, “Those are their natural hair colours, by the way. With the help of a stylist, they could make their hair to any human colour, should they so choose.” She smiled impishly back at him.

“That most humans do not change when they go through the portal leaves a big question mark. Does the portal fix things so that, while not changed, humans can easily survive in their world? Or does the portal do nothing? If it does nothing, is there something in this new world that human bodies cannot handle? And I’m not talking about viruses or other diseases — is there a radiation there about which we know nothing that will, in time, cause harm? Or, perhaps, will our bodies easily adapt to that radiation, but then react badly when it is removed when you return here? Will living there for any significant amount of time cause a human to die? Either while there or when they return to here?

“They, and we, simply do not know.

“That’s where this study comes in. While we have made excursions of a few hours with no difficulties, we need more raw data. So, each week, two of you will return and undergo a complete physical, looking for any alterations from the baseline physicals you received. In addition, the ponies will be doing their own medical examinations to see if they can detect anything from their end of things.”

He paused and took a drink from the glass unobtrusively placed on a shelf in the podium.

“I cannot stress enough how important this is to us, to humanity. The ponies have a way to regrow lost limbs that they are willing to share with us. We will begin experimenting with that technology next week.”

Most of the audience sat up straight in their seats, gasping.

“They have a cure for most cancers. They don’t know if their cure will work with us, but they are willing to try. We will begin experimenting with that technology next month.”

Now there were many more exclamations of surprise. Castor knew that there had to be a least a few in the audience who had lost family members or friends to cancer.

“Using their technology, they think they can develop a way to remove pollution from the air over a city like London in a matter of minutes. And those are only a few of the things we will be able to learn from them.”

He paused to let those ideas sink in.

“Settle down, please,” the room grew quiet. “And, yes, those of you in the medical field will be helping us with that while you are in Equus.”

“So, you see, the stakes in this study are high. Each step must be carefully studied for side-effects before being made known to the public.

“And, ‘what do they want from us,’ I’m sure you’re asking yourselves.”

He shook his head ruefully. “Believe it or not, one of their first requests was to see a performance of Shakespeare.”

That got a few surprised chuckles from the audience.

“We do however, have some things that interest them outside of literature and the arts. Our desktop computers and computer games have them mesmerized. They don’t have telephones, television, nor radio. Not even the telegraph. They simply never thought about those!

“Neither do they have grocery stores such as a Waitrose supermarket, nor large department stores. Harrods almost literally had some of them drooling at the variety on display.”

That got him a few laughs.

“However, before you go there, there are some things I must tell you.

He waved his arm at the Lighting Booth at the back of the theatre. As the curtain rose and the lights dimmed, he said, “First, there is a massive amount of evidence that there has been contact between our two planets, going back hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of years.”

He touched a control on the podium and a picture of an animal appeared on the screen above and behind him. “Cats, dogs, rabbits, mice . . . ,” he continued naming animals as their pictures appeared on the screen that had been hidden behind the curtain until the whole screen was filled. “. . . are all on Equus. But on Equus, unlike Earth, they are all intelligent.” He touched another button and the pictures disappeared, but a video began playing.

“This is Sweet Apple Acres,” they heard Lady Applejack say, “and this here is Bessie. Say ‘hello,’ Bessie.”

The cow looked down, then back up, and said, “Do I have to?”

“It would be nice.”

She sighed, then looked at the camera. She waved a hoof and said, “Hello.” She turned to Applejack, who was off camera. “Can I go now?”

“Shurely, honey, I’ll be seeing you at milking time.”

The cow gave her a long look, then said, “Okay, just don’t be late, today.” She turned and walked off. The video cut off.

“Not all of them can speak. The ones in the slides I showed you are about as smart as a ten-year-old child, on average.”

He touched a button and another slide appeared, “There are cows, deer, buffalo, donkeys, goats . . . ,” and he started another list.

When that screen was full, he blanked it. “There are mythological creatures as well, almost directly out of Greek mythology! Dragons, griffons, chimeras, cockatrices, hydras . . . .”

When the screen was once more full, he added, “The ones wearing clothes are intelligent enough to have their own countries and civilizations, and can talk with you as well as any secondary school graduate.”

“In short, if you see an animal, it can probably talk to you. If it can’t talk, it can at least understand you.” He paused “Don’t screw up. That dumb animal you’re dismissing might just be an ambassador to a foreign Equus country. If in doubt, ask a pony.” The volunteers stared at him, too gobsmacked to say anything in response.

“As a result, the only meat-dish you will see is fish. We will not be importing hamburger and pork for you to eat. You are, for however long you stay on the other side of the portal, vegetarians. Please do not discuss meat while you are in Equus. If somepony asks, change the subject . . . unless you can say, no, you do not eat that item. Perhaps you can stress the food items we both like to eat.”

"If any of you have leather shoes, wallets, or purses, we will exchange them for non-leather items on the bus.”

To say the audience was shocked into a near stupor when the presentation was finally complete was an understatement.

By the time they boarded the bus, much later, it was night-time. The ride to Little Whinging was quiet, the volunteers mentally digesting what they had learned. The blacked-out windows in the bus prevented them from seeing just where they were being taken. Once they arrived, a canvas canopy blocked their view of the stars as they made their way into the tent, and Equestria.

The hotel in Equestria for human visitors had been finished, and that was where they would spend the first few weeks, getting acclimated to the ponies and learning what was expected of them by their government and the ponies.

Part III – Hogwarts, First Year — Ch. 45 — Train Gang

Mrs. Weasley greeted the Equestrians and Grangers as a pegasus on Sunday morning, September First, when they arrived at the Weasley’s home. Apparently, Ginny had finally convinced her mother into trying to transform the previous evening. The Weasley matriarch’s reason for not doing it before had been that someone her age didn’t need an animagus form. Not surprisingly, Mr. Weasley and her sons had been cajoling and encouraging her as well. For the twins, having a mother who could change to a pegasus was just too brilliant to pass up. That, and she had turned out to be a magnificent Quidditch player as a pony — a practice opportunity the twins were reluctant to give up.

Mr. Weasley had never really mentioned his reasons. Perhaps he thought his wife would be happier. Or maybe he just wanted a small pony to cuddle. Luna knew, Harry liked cuddling with his pony friends.

The twins, wisely, decided not to inquire or to prank their father, or mother, about the subject.

With that kind of support, once she made the decision it hadn’t taken her long to trigger the transformation. That she was already well accustomed to her own magic and could more easily feel the difference between that and her pegasus magic, Harry thought, was probably a huge help.

What wasn’t a help was watching the Weasley children run around the house like madmen trying to get together all the stuff they should have done last night. More than once they started out for the train station, only to have to turn back and pick something up.

Harry was monumentally pleased that Twilight had insisted on going over her checklist last night, with the fillies, to make sure everything was packed. They had thought the Weasley family would be ready to go when they arrived, two hours ahead of the train’s departure. They should have had more than enough time to arrive at the station and get seats. They were wrong.

Finally, Harry said, “If there’s anything else you’ve forgotten, we can send Hedwyg or one of the girls’ owls to home to have your parents send it to you!”

On that note, they finally made it to King's Cross Station and Platform 9-3/4s. And onto the train before it started to pull out. Just barely. Having their trunks in their pockets certainly made the event less stressful for the non-Weasley members of the expedition.

Twilight, of course, was already making plans to examine the train in detail at a later date. She did remember to wave good-bye as the train left, though. Distracted as she was in examining the spells that had gone into the station’s construction, Harry hoped she would remember her meeting with Blueblood planned for the afternoon.

The trip to Hogwarts was rather uneventful for the seven students. Ron was still upset that his little sister was going with them, and pointedly ignored her presence in the cabin. That he had to share his books with her all year wasn’t helping his mood — he almost hoped she’d be sorted into another House, he had muttered to Harry more than once in the last two weeks. Not even a game of Exploding Snap had pulled him out of his funk for more than a few minutes.

If Scootaloo had known where Hogwarts was, outside of the vague description “Scotland,” she probably would have tried to fly there. As it was, she was grumpy that she could only hover near the ceiling. She made a game of trying to see how little she needed to move her wings to hover until lunch time arrived. Then she landed and sat with the rest of them to eat. They inspected the candy spread offered by the snack-cart witch in detail, purchasing several of everything, and sharing their bounty with all.

The ride gave Harry time to reflect on the past month.

All-in-all, it was the most fun Harry had ever had. He hadn’t once had to rescue the fillies or run in terror from some monster chasing them through the forest. In fact, he couldn’t remember any summer where the Cutie Mark Crusaders, himself included, didn’t spend at least part of the month before school in trouble and grounded. Of course, he had only one other summer to compare to, but still, it was the thought that counted. And he counted it.

Actually, now that he thought about it, it was the first time since he had arrived in Equestria that he hadn’t been grounded for at least part of a month. Huh. An entire month without being grounded. It had to be a record.

Hermione had insisted that they try to work their way through the Second Year charms book, the first having been not all that difficult. Not that the book was necessarily easy — there had been many long and detailed theories about magic and historical details on each spell. They had ignored those and concentrated on just learning to cast the spells. Tackling the Second Year had been a good idea, they discovered, as the more complicated spells made the earlier ones seem easy, which helped improve their spell-casting.

So, when Hermione had proposed that Percy give them a test on how good they were with the spells, it hadn’t been out-right rejected. They were curious how they would do. And Percy could be counted on to be impartial in his judgements, even if he was a bit miffed that they had skipped all the theory stuff. He was taking his Prefect Duties a bit too seriously, Harry felt. And decided not to tell him that the twins had charmed his Prefect’s Badge to include a question-mark whenever he wasn’t looking at it. And Ron had kept falling asleep the few times they had gone into reading the theories.

Harry hadn’t minded, he had used the Book Walking spell to go through the books when he was at Little Whinging in his room. He had mentioned the spell to the fillies at the beginning of last month, but they hadn’t been interested. Or perhaps the movie they were watching had distracted them. In any case, the girls seemed to like helping Ginny keep up. And Ron, when he had offered to teach him a spell so he could learn without falling asleep, had almost run away. Hermione had been too engrossed in a book to hear his question.

Harry had had to agree that going into Hogwarts already having mastered the First Year spells would provide them much more time off to play — although that wasn’t how Hermione had put it. And, as Twilight had taught him, being ahead of the rest of the class was never a bad idea. That way, if you did run into a difficult section, you had more time to work on it.

Plus, learning magic wasn’t exactly what he would call a chore!

The only unpleasant part of the month had been his “interview” with that Detective Inspector bloke. He had spent the rest of the day distracted by thoughts of what he wanted to do to the Dursleys when he had learned enough magic. Thoughts he had managed to avoid for most of the month. The girls had tried their best to cheer him up, and he had appreciated their efforts. But still . . . the Dursleys just made his blood boil.

When Hermione went to the loo shortly after their lunch, she met a boy, Neville Longbottom, who had lost his toad. After checking with them that they hadn’t seen it, she went away with him. She didn’t return to their compartment until an hour later, dragging the boy with her.

“Well,” she said as she sat down, pulling Neville to sit beside her, “We couldn’t find Trevor anywhere.” Longbottom was a short — not as short as Harry, though — and slightly rotund boy with a round face where you could still see some of his baby fat. He wasn’t fat, but neither was he slim, he was just overweight for his height. Unlike Harry who was underweight for his height and under-height for his age. And the girls were all almost a head taller than he was.

Neville looked on the verge of tears. “Gran and Uncle Algie will be most disappointed with me,” he mumbled.

Harry looked at Hermione. “Did you try accio?”

She frowned back at him. “It doesn’t work on living things, remember?”

Harry frowned back, thinking, “Ah, yes. I forgot.”

“Anyway,” she said, “Neville, this is Harry Potter . . . ,” and she proceeded to introduce everyone.

After an embarrassed stare at Harry’s forehead, Neville turned and stared at the two Weasleys.”You’re both eleven?” he said hesitantly, “Gran never mentioned two sets of twins in the Weasley family.”

Ron’s expression soured a bit farther. “No.” he stated coldly, “She’s ten. The Headmaster talked my parents into letting her start this year instead of next.” Disgruntled, he turned and looked out the window.

Neville turned a surprised gaze on Ginny, who blushed and glared angrily at her brother.

“Blimey!” he said softly, “You must be really good with magic!”

Her blush deepened. “I think it’s only because I can do this,” she said, turning into a pegasus.

Neville’s eyes shot wide open. “You’re an animagus?”

“Ha!” Ron said derisively, turning back to face them, and eager to show his sister couldn’t outdo him. “I can do that, too!” And he did.

Neville’s eyes got even bigger.

The girls all laughed at his expression. Almost in chorus, the three Equestrians said, “We can, too!” as they transformed into their pony selves. He stared at the five technicolour ponies, blinking hard.

Harry sighed and leaned back on the bench seat. This was not going to end well.

Neville turned to Hermione, “Did you know they could . . . .” He stared in disbelief at the black unicorn with bushy-brown mane and tail seated beside him that looked at him guiltily. He blinked once more. Then slid bonelessly to the floor. He had fainted.

Harry sighed deeply. “Aww, come on, girls, that is soo unfair.”

They all laughed at the Neville’s reactions. Even Ron cracked a smile. They all exchanged smirking grins. This year was going to be soo much fun.

Harry held his wand out and frowned. A small short stream of water flowed out and splashed onto Neville’s face.

Gasping in surprise, the boy struggled to sit up on the floor, looking up at Harry. “What happened?” he said. “Did I fall asleep? I dreamed you were all small horses.”

Harry sighed, yet again, “Ponies,” he corrected. He held out his hand to help the other boy onto the seat. “No, you fainted. It wasn’t a dream.” Harry waved his hand and the six brightly-coloured ponies all lifted a hoof and waved at Neville.

Neville swayed at seeing the ponies, but Harry steadied him. “Don’t mind them, they’re all just showing off. We only got our wands last month, the second week of August, actually.”

“That’s right,” added Hermione in a prim tone, “But we have worked our way entirely through the First Year spell-book. It was soo much fun!” She was hopping up and down on her seat. “I can even cast spells through my horn!” She shot a bunch of sparks across the cabin. The others rolled their eyes. Ginny ruffled her wings a bit, but there wasn’t really room to fly because Scootaloo was already hovering near the ceiling, in the middle of the cabin.

“You can talk in that form?” he said faintly. Neville looked close to fainting again. “They’re gonna send me home, for sure, aren’t they?”

The others looked at each other and transformed back, except Scootaloo, this time crossing her legs and sitting vertically in the air, like Rainbow Dash sometimes did.

“No,” Harry said firmly. “The Headmaster told us that once you get your Hogwarts’ letter, you’re in Hogwarts and nobody can take that away from you.”

“Unless you commit some kind of big crime,” Hermione added. “That’s what it says in Hogwarts: A History.”

Neville looked down at the floor, near tears. “But I’m almost a squib, I can barely do any magic. I’ll be the laughingstock of the school. I never did any accidental magic until recently. And then, only once.”

Harry and the Equestrians looked at each other with narrowed eyes. They were intimately familiar with being laughed at. Their ears would have been twitching and tails swishing if they had still been in pony form — Scootaloo’s did, just before she changed back to human form and thumped to the floor. After a moment of shuffling, and an order to “move over,” Neville found himself sandwiched between Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle.

“No, you won’t,” Sweetie Belle said firmly, “We’ll make sure of that.”

“Let’s see your wand,” ordered Hermione.

“It’s my father’s,” he said reverently as he fished it out of a pocket. “He . . . can’t use it . . . anymore.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips, “Well, that’s part of the problem, then!”

Neville looked over at her, outraged.

“Mr. Ollivander, the wand-maker, that is, told us,” she continued lecturing, not noticing his anger, “that the wand chooses the wizard. And that wand chose your father, didn’t it? So unless you are exactly like your father, with nothing from your mother, that wand will never work as well for you as it did for him!” She gave him a triumphant look, arching one eyebrow at her display of knowledge.

“My father . . . ,” he started.

“Is. Not. You,” she interrupted firmly. “That wand did not choose you! And, according to Mr. Ollivander, that wand will never work for you as well as it did your father! And Mr. Ollivander should know, shouldn’t he?”

His defiance crumbled at her words. He looked away and muttered, “Gran will never agree to get me a new wand.”

“Well, then,” said Scootaloo resolutely, “We’ll just have to get you a new wand!” She looked at Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, who nodded back.

“Oh!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle as an idea struck her. She took her trunk out of her pocket, enlarged it, and set it on the floor. She opened it and hopped onto the elevator. “Twilight should be home, I’ll ask her for permission and a hair!”

Neville stared as the girl disappeared into her trunk. He leaned forward and looked inside. “An apartment trunk?” he asked incredulously.

It took only a moment to explain that Harry and the three girls had apartment trunks with an internal floo-network. And that Ginny and Ron had regular student trunks, although Ginny’s was a loaner until her parents bought one for her. (“Nonsense, it’s not charity if it’s a loaner, dear.” Rarity had said. “You are going to buy her a proper trunk next year, anyway, aren’t you? This is merely a loaner until then, my dears,” had been her closing argument to the Weasleys.)

Harry expected that when next year arrived, Rarity would offer to sell them the “used” trunk at a steep discount, much cheaper than they would find elsewhere. (“It’s not charity to sell something at a low price when it’s used!” she would say. “Besides, the store would never buy a used trunk at the price they planned to sell it at. I’m getting rid of the middle-pony by selling it to you for more than he would pay me, and less than what you would pay buying from the store! We both benefit from this, so it can’t be charity, darlings.”)

While they waited for her return, Hermione explained about their animagus forms. “Well, you see, we were all at the Weasleys’ home when this really odd wizard, Dis– OW!” She glared at Apple Bloom for kicking her ankle.

“We DO NOT say his name!” Apple Bloom glared back. “You saw what happened last time. This time he might decide we’d all look good as avocados or chickens!” She shuddered after a quick glance at Scootaloo.

Hermione glared angrily at the other girl, then sighed. “Okay,” she said grudgingly, rubbing her ankle. “This powerful wizard came when these three and Sweetie all said his name. He turned us all into ponies as a joke. Harry, Sweetie Belle, and myself were unicorns, as were the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Ginny, her mother, Scootaloo, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet — they were visiting that day — he transformed into pegasi. Ron and Percy were earth ponies.” She concluded her explanation by turning into a unicorn once more.

“Then he turned us all into pegasi for the rest of the day.” She sighed. “About a week later, Scootaloo managed to figure out how to turn herself back into a Pegasus, so the rest of us tried to do it, too. Took us a couple of days.” She looked at Neville. “So, you see, the only reason we have these forms is because an extremely powerful wizard forced our first-time animagus transformation. At least, that’s what Mr. Weasley says he thinks happened.”

Neville was staring back at her, clearly unsure if she was telling him the truth. He was sure his grandmother would have said something to him if there was a Wizard powerful enough to turn thirteen people into pegasi — well, someone other than Headmaster Dumbledore. Plus, he had never heard of ponies in such bright colours, and unicorns always had a pure-white coat. And of the three unicorns in here, only Sweetie Belle even came close to that colour.

Harry sighed. “It’s true, Neville. That wizard is really powerful. He can warp reality. Back home he once made it rain chocolate milk and turned the clouds into cotton-candy. He’s the God of Chaos. If it screws things up, or he thinks it would be funny, he’s willing to do it.”

Neville turned a disbelieving gaze on Harry.

Harry shrugged.

“I think he’s cool,” Scootaloo said steadfastly. “A bit unpredictable, but cool! Not as cool as Rainbow Dash, but cool, nonetheless.”

The others shifted uncomfortably.

“How about a game of Exploding Snap?” Ginny suggested.

They used Sweetie Belle’s closed trunk as a table-top. Neville was a bit stiff at first, but after the first round he loosened up and soon they were all laughing, even Ron. Scootaloo joined them for the second round.

In the middle of a game, about two hours later, there was a knocking from inside the trunk. They hastily cleared it off and Sweetie Belle hopped out. She transformed back to a girl. “Here,” she said, handing Neville an envelope and a half-meter-long stick. “Twilight wasn’t at her castle, so I had to go to Rarity,” she explained. “And then Rarity insisted we have tea.” She sighed. “That’s what took so long. She was more than happy to help, though, and gave me two hairs. She said she'd take the responsibility. ”

She looked at the stick she had given Neville. “As I was walking back up the trail to get back,” she gave a significant look to Harry and the other two fillies, “one of the workers came over and handed me that cherry-wood stick. He said one of the trees they were moving to a better location in the park had dropped it on his head. He thought, for some reason, that I looked like somepony who could use it.”

They all exchanged puzzled looks. Then Harry said, “Harmony,” and the Equestrians all nodded wisely.

Harry turned to Neville, who was looking at them as if they were all mad. “When we get to Hogwarts, send an owl to Ollivander with that envelope and stick. Tell him the hairs are from a unicorn. Both hairs and wood were freely given by Rarity and Harmony and that you need a new wand. Any excess hair he can keep as payment for the wand.” Harry smiled wryly. “You can tell him that Harry Potter and his girlfriends suggested this.”

The fillies beamed at his declaration, while Ginny looked depressed and Neville surprised.

Neville slowly nodded and carefully put both items in his pocket beside his father’s.

“If you need an owl, you can use any of ours. Hedwyg, my owl, I know would enjoy the work-out.”

With that taken care of, they resumed their game until the next interruption.

Their compartment door slid open. Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: It was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he’d shown back in Diagon Alley.

“Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”

“Yes,” said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”*

Ron’s face turned red, as did Ginny’s, though whether from embarrassment or anger it was difficult to say. Neville was watching with a slight frown.

Draco turned back to Harry. “You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it.* Harry had plenty of experience in dealing with bullies, and Draco fit the bill perfectly based on their previous encounter at Madam Malkins and his current conduct. Not to mention what the Weasleys had told him and the fillies about the whole pure-blood nonsense. And how the Malfoys, in particular, thought they were better than anyone else.

Harry tilted his head at the boy, not sure what to say, but Apple Bloom beat him to a response.

She snickered. Then she laughed. “Wrong sort,” she said mirthfully to herself, shaking her head. “Harry lives with Princess Twilight Sparkle. Our homeland’s rulers, Princesses Celestia and Luna, are sending us to Hogwarts with him. And the God of Chaos likes him,” she said mirthfully. “Politically and socially, Ah doubt you could bring anything to the table that even begins to compare.” She snorted. “As fer yer snootiness, Ah bet you can’t track yer pure-blood back more’n a thousand years. Sweetie Bell, Scootaloo, and I can track ours back over six thousand years. Without a single,” She glanced at Ron, “what did you call them? Squabs? And maggles?”

Hermione supplied helpfully, “Squibs and muggles.”

Ron nodded happily, eyes wide with delight at her verbal assault on Draco. Neville’s eyebrows were both arched in surprise.

“Without a single squib or muggle in the family!” She concluded triumphantly.

Draco and his goons stared at her dumbfounded.

“That’s, that’s, impossible!” he finally managed. “Nobody can track their family lineage back that far!”

“We can,” Sweetie Belle said smugly.

“Are you callin’ me a liar?” demanded Apple Bloom, standing and planting her feet firmly.

Draco sneered, looking her up and down. While the large pink bow in her hair was a bit much, she wore custom-fitted robes with gems for buttons. His sneer faded a bit. He glanced at the other girls and Harry, noticing that those three were also wearing custom-fitted high-quality acromantula-silk robes, much like his own. And theirs had what appeared to be gems for buttons. While the gems were probably fake, the robes showed the wearers were of high-class. At the very least, these four came from extremely wealthy families.

From his expression, it was easy for Harry to imagine the boy asking himself Why had his father never mentioned these girls and their families? Especially if they could trace their pure-blood ancestry that far back!

“No,” he backtracked, “Just that you might be exaggerating a bit.”

Apple Bloom glared at him.

“Apple Bloom,” Harry said quietly, “Recorded history here only goes back about five thousand years.”

“Well, he said he saw mah ancestors planting trees with magic six thousand years ago, so’s I believe him. And so do Princesses Twilight and Celestia. He ain’t got no reason to lie.” She snorted again. “ ’Sides, don’t really matter how long. We know that thar ain’t never been neither those muggles nor squibs in any o’ ar families. Ever.”

She turned back to Draco and narrowed her eyes at him. “Be careful who ya talk down to. Wouldn’t be the first time some nose-in-the-air self-important snootie noble got herself bucked into oblivion by talkin’ ’bout stuff thay didn’t know.”

Unsure of what was going on, and somewhat put off by the girl’s insistence that the three girls were pure-bloods, Draco took a step back. He narrowed his eyes and said, “I’ll see you at the sorting — that will sort the wheat from the chaff.” He turned and followed his goons as they left the compartment, slamming the door closed behind himself.

There was a moment’s silence.

“Blimey,” Ron said, “That was brill! Took him down a peg, you did!” He bounced happily in his seat as Ginny looked at Apple Bloom with admiration in her eyes.

Harry looked over at the two Weasleys. “I’d rather have a large family and no money, than no family and a lot of money.”

“Although,” Apple Bloom snickered, “a large family with a lot of bits wouldn’t be terrible, either.” She smiled and glanced at the other two fillies. “And we got both, right?” They nodded, agreeing.

Remembering the Apple family reunion, Harry had to agree, as well. He couldn’t imagine having that many relatives. And Apple Bloom had insisted on introducing him and the other two fillies to each and every one of them, saying the four of them were herd-friends.

But he was unsure of why she was including Sweetie and Scoots in that. Neither filly’s family was nearly as large, as far as Harry knew. On the other hand, they now were certainly rich based on what the Goblins said.

He looked out the window at the passing countryside. It was starting to get dark. Almost at the same time, a voice came over the speaker system announcing that they would be arriving soon, and that they should leave their trunks on the train. Harry, Ron, and Neville left to allow Ginny and Hermione privacy to change into their robes. Neville went back to his original compartment to get his robes. Ron took the lazy way out as they stood in the hallway and just slipped his school outer-robes over his regular clothes.

Harry and the fillies had decided to just wear their school robes at the beginning of the day, not that they had much in the way of regular clothes, anyway.

At the station, Harry realized that the giant wizard calling the First Years to follow him, Hagrid was his name Harry later discovered, was the same huge wizard he had seen at the bank. His jovial attitude helped calm the excited students.

Their first sight of the Castle as the boats drifted across the lake was dramatic and beautiful, they agreed. Harry and the fillies took one boat while Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Neville took another. Hagrid finding Trevor, Neville’s toad, was a major relief for the boy when the little fleet docked under the castle. And his cherry-wood stick was tucked away in his robe-pocket with his father’s wand.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder if the Headmaster had shared the knowledge of their animagus forms with Professor McGonagall yet. She did give the seven of them a significant look as she explained how the House system worked. The ghosts were a complete surprise, as such things did not exist in Equestria, or were so rare as to be only legends.

Author's Notes:

* italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

46 — You Had Only One Job . . .

Scootaloo was a bit confused at first when Professor McGonagall called out, “Aloo, Scoot.” But her going into Gryffindor wasn’t a surprise to Harry, and was a quick decision by the hat. As she told them later, the hat had said she had no real ambitions, so not Slytherin; studying was a chore, so not Ravenclaw; and while she was fiercely loyal, she was like Rainbow in wanting to nap a lot, so Hufflepuff was out. Her boundless enthusiasm for charging into Cutie Mark Crusading, while completely ignoring any possible dangers, or at least downplaying them, pretty much marked her as Gryffindor material. Naturally, her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, followed her into the red and gold House. Harry assumed that was because of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ attitude of charging ahead without a thought.

The hat’s reaction to seeing the monsters they had encountered had been an astounded, “Bloody hell! How are you all still alive?” He had been equally impressed with their origins, and assured her that he would never tell anyone what he learned when sorting students. Although he did say he had never sorted any students from another world like Equus.

That Hermione, with her intense focus on books went to Gryffindor as well, was surprising. But given her admiration for Dumbledore, who was watching over everything from his throne-like chair, and wanting to be in his House, maybe not so unexpected. And having so many of her friends in it already probably was a factor, too.

Harry didn’t know enough about Neville to make a prediction. Neville, however, seemed over-joyed at getting into Gryffindor. On the train, he had predicted he would probably be shuffled into Hufflepuff, which he termed as the House for those that didn’t fit in the others. And that that would greatly disappoint his Gran and Uncle Alfie. Based on the stories the boy had told them on the train, Harry was sure that ‘Uncle Alfie’ would have gotten along just fine with Uncle Vernon. And he had the feeling that he should be able to change a jinx so that it would transfer from a letter to a person without them noticing — such as one that made him confess bad deeds to the wrong people.

Harry Potter’s name brought a profound silence to the hall for a moment, then a burst of loud whispering. Even those who hadn’t paid any attention to the sorting at all were suddenly watching closely. Some even went so far as to stand on their benches to get a better look.

“Well, well, well,” said the hat, a disembodied voice in his head as he sat on the stool. “This is quite the mind you have here. It’s all in here, you know. Your hopes, your ambitions, your potentials. Loyalty to your friends in spades; that would make you a very good Hufflepuff. Wanting to learn all you can about magic; that would be a fine fit for Ravenclaw. And bravery! Oh, my, more than willing to charge ahead of your friends to protect them. That’s a Gryffindor trait, for sure. Your ambition is rather subdued right now, but it is there, so Slytherin is definitely a choice. Yes, Slytherin could help make you great. That House could help you develop to your full potential.”

Harry frowned. “I go with my friends to Gryffindor,” he thought firmly. “I wouldn’t be here without them. They saved my life in more ways than one and I’ll not abandon them.”

“Yes, yes, you do make quite the team, don’t you? I’ve seen their minds — they won’t forsake you simply because you’re in a different House. It might be difficult to adapt, at first, but you and they would flourish. Yes, Slytherin would be exceptionally useful to you.”

Harry and the girls had listened all month to Ron and the twins raging against the Slytherins and all things snake-like. And while the twins spoke of the other houses, it wasn’t always in the kindest words. The stereotypes were very deeply planted in the wizarding society, Harry had discovered while listening at the lunch table as the Quidditch team talked of the other houses. He would not allow himself to be separated from his filly friends. A herd stayed together.

“Gryffindor,” Harry stated firmly. “Gryffindor or I leave.”

“Well, if that’s what it will take, then it better be . . .

“Gryffindor!” shouted the hat out loud.

Later, at the Gryffindor table and surrounded by both his friends and the Quidditch team, for the first time Harry actually felt welcome somewhere. These people accepted him for what he was.

In Equestria, he had friends, but they were different. Or, rather, he was different. Not that most of them knew that. But he did. He knew he didn’t belong. He knew he was a transformed human and not a pony. And those that did know his secret always took a bit of time before they accepted him.

Here, though, they were all just the same as he was, people who could do magic. And having his three filly friends here just made it all that much better! Maybe, just maybe, going to school here instead of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns was a good idea.

The food, when it appeared, caught the fillies by surprise. Not the quantity, or that it had so many meat products. What surprised them were the large amounts of pastries and sweets. Scootaloo dug right into the fish dishes, of course, with great gusto. She almost rivalled Ron at the rate she was putting it away.

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had already heard the arguments for becoming meat eaters, but they weren’t convinced yet. Harry hadn’t tried any meat dishes at their house in Little Whinging, not wanting to upset his vegetarian friends.

“Humans are omnivores,” Twilight had explained. “And their bodies require certain nutrients, proteins, and minerals that are contained in meat dishes. While you are in human form, you need to eat those things to stay healthy. And the animals here are not anywhere close to sapient.” She had taken a big bite of the bacon Harry had cooked that morning. “Besides, your taste buds have changed and this stuff tastes great!”

Still, it was one thing to know something was good for you intellectually and another to actually enjoy eating it.

The two fillies carefully picked and nibbled at the meat dishes while piling up the pastries and sweets. And commandeering all the vegetables and fruits at their end of the table.

Even though they were all tired, and it was quite late by the time they reached the Gryffindor dormitories, Harry and Neville managed to complete the letter to Ollivander. It was after their curfew so heading to the owlery was definitely out of the question. However, Harry went to their dorm window and opened it as the others watched curiously. He leaned out and bellowed, “HEDWYG!”

Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan all looked at each other, shrugged, and looked back at Harry. Ron just grinned.

Harry ducked back into the room as a Snowy White owl glided into the room.

“ ’Cor,” said Dean admiringly, “that one’s a beauty.” The others agreed.

“Here, Hedwyg,” Harry said, tying the shrunken stick and letter to his owl’s leg. “Would you please take this to Ollivander the Wand-maker in London? It’s about a new wand for Neville.”

Hedwyg hooted affirmative, and took off out the window with a stately grace.

They spent a few more minutes talking before they all collapsed into their beds and fell asleep.

For Dumbledore, Sunday had been hectic, as it always was. The students had been on their way and the castle had to be ready. The house-elves had been in a frenzy, cleaning anything that didn’t move, and quite a few things that did. One of them popped into his office almost every half-hour to tell him that this or that was now ready for the students and to ask if he had thought of anything else they should be doing. He had even seen one house-elf polishing the stones in the gravel drive up from the gates.

Meanwhile, the professors had been going over their schedules, checking their supplies for any last-minute corrections, and preparing themselves for the onslaught that was to start in the evening.

But now, the students had arrived. He had always looked forward to that moment, and today was no exception. It was his favourite part of arrival day, seeing the looks of wonder on the new students as they followed Professor McGonagall inside the Great Hall. And this year Harry Potter was finally at the school. James and Lilly Potter’s son had finally made it here. Safe and happy.

That he was accompanied by three foreign students, students apparently from Atlantis, was merely icing on Dumbledore’s cake. The girls were clearly powerful, as he had seen when they all mastered the animagus transformation. If the school made a good impression on them, then maybe he could expect more students from that recluse country in attendance.

He had been trying for ten years to rebuild the wizarding society devastated by Voldemort. Trying to instil in his students the concept that they needed to live in peace, both in the wizarding world and with the muggles. Pure-blood sentiments had no place and would severely damage the English wizarding society if they were pursued to their natural conclusion. Giving the pure-bloods special privileges in order to placate them while still being open and welcoming to the half-bloods and muggle-born was the only feasible solution.

Having pure-blood foreigners of great power marrying into English society would put paid to those desperate pure-blood aspirations — these foreigners clearly had no interest in discriminating against anyone based solely on their blood status. All they considered, it seemed, was how people treated each other! They simply didn’t understand what the pure-blood ideologues were trying to establish. Thankfully.

Watching as the girls were sorted into Gryffindor was a bit of a surprise. He had expected them to be separated, with Miss Belle going into Ravenclaw and Miss Bloom going into Hufflepuff. He hadn’t been able to get a proper read on Miss Aloo, she had spent most of her time flying — either as her animagus or on a broom. She probably wasn’t either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, based on what Arthur had told him.

As he had hoped, Harry went into Gryffindor, not that Dumbledore expected anything else after his girl friends had gone into it. Professor McGonagall was especially happy at seeing that, although she did a credible job of hiding that fact from the watching students.

After delivering his normal end-of-Welcoming-Feast speech, with the required additions, he headed back to his chambers. His night was not yet done.

He apparated to end of the Privet Drive and walked leisurely to number Four, using his Put-Outer to remain hidden in the shadows. No one was home. He shrugged, they were probably out for the evening. He didn’t notice the two women in those shadows, watching him intently.

It took only a moment to remove his fidelius charm from the house. Now that the boy was at Hogwarts, it wasn’t needed to hide him. And it would cause problems for the boy at school if he left it intact, as others would ignore the boy or forget he was there moments after he left a class. His mother’s protection on the house would suffice.

He turned, retraced his steps, and apparated back to his office in Hogwarts.

And was jolted by the noise — a piercing whistle, a ringing bell, and a hooting horn. He started in disbelief.

His Harry Potter monitors were going crazy, and what they were showing defied imagination. Harry Potter was here — and quite happy to be here, he knew — and yet the metronome was solid black instead of neutral grey, with the indicator wand as far to the left as it could get. It was actually stopped from being horizontal only because the knick-knack beside, a knight on a charger with white cotton-like smoke coming from its nose, prevented it. According to the monitor, Harry was miserable to the point of considering suicide.

The second monitor, the smoker, blew a steady column of thick black smoke that almost reached the ceiling and its boiler and chimney were a solid black. Harry was in perfect health, yet the trinket showed the boy to be in poor health, at near starvation levels, and suffering from broken bones and injured organs.

The worst, though, was the spinner, the one that monitored the protection provided to the Dursley home by Lily’s love, and fostered by her sister. That one was stopped dead and completely black. The protective charm had failed entirely.

Almost as an afterthought, he looked at the last two. The stop-light was still green, showing that no one was trying to separate Harry from the Dursleys, but there was one tiny thin band of black from several weeks ago. The globe monitoring the fidelius charm on Harry was clear, as it should be, because he had just cancelled the charm, himself.

This was a catastrophe — his mother’s protection on the Dursley home had collapsed. How could that have happened?

Well, at least the boy was safe here at Hogwarts . . . the Headmaster stiffened. “Skiffy!” he called.

“Skiffy is here, Master Dumbledore,” came the almost immediate response from his Hogwarts’ personal house-elf.

Dumbledore turned to him. “Is Harry Potter in bed?”

“Skiffy will check,” said the little creature before disappearing with a POP. Almost immediately, he returned. The old wizard paused only long enough to hear the house-elf say, “Yes, Master Dumbledore . . . ,” before disapparating away, back to the Dursleys. He missed the rest of the Skiffy’s response, “. . . Master Potter be in his bed.”

The boy was safe, so he needed to see what had happened at the Dursleys. He would decipher why the other monitoring spells were malfunctioning when he returned.

Minutes later, wand in hand, he was walking briskly up Privet Drive, his robes billowing in his wake. He would have used his Put-Outer to douse the street lights, but he was in too much of a hurry to bother. He was soo intent on getting to the Dursley house at the other end of the street that he again failed to notice that two women watched him just as intently, one on each side of the street.

Dumbledore was in such a hurry that he cut across several lawns to shorten the distance instead of following the pavement. He peered at the house closely. It gave off the air of a house unlived-in for a number of weeks. The grass was taller than the neighbours and the bushes in front looked a bit neglected. Which it should, if the Dursleys had been gone for over a month. Now that he thought about it, the Dursleys should be at home this late at night. Tomorrow was, after all, a normal school day and their child needed his rest.

He rang the doorbell and waited. He rang it again. Nothing stirred in the house. He knocked, loudly. Still nothing stirred. He looked around and didn’t see anyone watching from the surrounding houses. He pointed his wand at the door and whispered, homenum revelio. He frowned as the spell revealed that no one was in the house. Surely the Dursleys would have returned from their vacation by now, if only to ensure that their son was in school on time. He quickly unlocked the door with a spell and stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind himself.

The watchers, one now across the street from number Four and the other maintaining her post, exchanged frustrated looks. The one across the street ran up to the front windows and peeked inside.

The old wizard looked around the entry, then cast another spell. This one blacked the windows so no one could observe him. A quick lumos let him see clearly the mound of clothes thrown on the sitting-room floor and the open door of the cupboard under the stairs. Puzzled, he walked over and looked inside.

“Oh, my,” was all he could say as he took in the childish scrawl that said “Harry’s Room” on the wall, the papers tacked around it, the marks and stains on the wall clearly defining where a cot had been placed, and the dirty stained floor that hadn’t been cleaned in a decade. He straightened and leaned against the door frame. “How could you? He’s your nephew!” he said softly, looking around the spotless sitting-room with its pictures that showed a very fat child, a very overweight man, and a skinny woman with a face that reminded him of a horse. Nowhere in sight was there a picture that showed Harry. And the fat child would never have been able to fit inside that tiny cupboard.

With heavy steps, the wizard slowly made his way up the stairs. He looked in the first bedroom, a messy child’s room filled with the normal detritus of discarded clothes and toys. The sign on its door, in a fancy script on a bronze plaque, said Dudley’s Room. The second, smaller, room was filled entirely with what could only be broken toys and equipment, all looking quite expensive-looking. There was a sign on its door, like the first, that said, Dudley’s Room. The third bedroom, larger than the second one, was even more pristine than the sitting-room. It had a neat bed, bedside table, dresser, and armchair. All were tastefully arranged and colour-coordinated with the walls and framed pictures. It looked more like a furniture showroom than a room someone lived in. Obviously, this was a guest room. There was no sign on its door.

The final door led to a much larger room, the parents’ bedroom, he surmised, based on the pictures of both Dursleys when they were much younger that were displayed on the two bedside tables. He slowly walked down the stairs shaking his head, “Do you not realize what you have done?” he asked the absent family.

He stared into the sitting-room, again. A typical middle-class home. The furnishings were fairly new, the rug and curtains in decent shape. Nothing looked either worn or seriously used. A well-cared-for home, a model of what one might expect a normal muggle family to have and live in. A family of three, with a father, mother, and child. No one would ever suspect that another child lived there, as well.

Only the cupboard under the stairs was evidence otherwise. That was the only suggestion that things were not as they appeared on the surface. That maybe this perfect home wasn’t nearly as perfect as the owners wanted it to appear. And what it suggested about Harry’s relationship with his relatives was ugly, indeed.

He needed to know. He had to know what had happened here. He thought a moment, then cast the point-me spell. They were quite some distance away, he discovered. He frowned, thinking.

Arabella and Minerva had mentioned that the Dursley’s were away since the beginning of August, staying at one of a chain of places called the Queen’s Resort. That had explained why Harry was staying with the Atlanteans.

He remembered Arabella mentioning something about the Dursleys being in Woking. He had never been there. He sighed, and disapparated back to Hogwarts for a broom.

Dawn was still hours away when he landed his broom on the outskirts of the town. He cast a notice-me-not on himself, recast the point-me spell, then started walking. Half-an-hour later he was standing in front of the local constabulary building, a two-story, sturdy, brick building separated from the pavement by an iron railing and a brick-paved empty-space wider than the pavement. He shook his head ruefully, a Queen’s Resort, indeed! Muggles certainly had a dry wit at times. He slowly made his way inside to an officer at a desk inside.

“Excuse me,” he said, eyes twinkling, “can you tell me if you have a Mr. or Mrs. Dursley here?” With the help of a small spell, the officer was more than willing to direct him to the cell in which they held Mrs. Dursley. The wizard sent the man back to his desk with a quiet command and an obliviate. He would ignore all sounds and flashes of light he might see from the holding area for the next half-hour.

“Petunia,” Dumbledore said softly, after opening the door and sending a gentle rennervate. There was no reason, yet, to be stern. There still might be a reasonable explanation.

She stirred, blinked, and looked over at him blearily. She ran a hand through her hair as she sat up and stared at him crossly. “Well, it’s about time you got here! Straighten out this mess. Get us out of here!”

He shook his head regretfully as he stepped closer. She stood up to face him, her defiance on the border of turning into fear.

He stared into her eyes. For a brief moment, he was glad he hadn’t managed to put through that law making it illegal to legilimens a muggle.

He sighed disappointedly.

It was all there.

How they had treated Harry. Or, rather, mistreated the boy. It had started with resentment, the sister Petunia had resented, the one who had gotten all the attention, all the praise, once she had left for Hogwarts. The sister that had had the audacity to die and burden her child onto Petunia’s already struggling family. Dudley had been a difficult child, Harry had added to her problems.

He shook his head sadly. He hadn’t considered the strain an additional child might have on the new family. He should have arranged for a stipend to ease their burden.

So she had started to ignore him in favour of her own child. Taking her frustrations out on the boy when he did anything she didn’t like. Her husband had already disliked both Lily and her husband, and it took very little for him to transfer that dislike to Harry. Everything had started to slide downhill for the boy as his relatives took out their frustrations with Dudley, and Vernon’s office, on Harry.

Year after year, Harry’s treatment had gotten worse. Gradually, her son had picked up on his parents’ attitude, and things escalated as he discovered he could do anything he wanted to Harry without fear of retribution. The punishments increased in scale and length as the boy’s magical accidents, either real or imagined — attacks as the Dursleys characterized them — had manifested.

He noted with some surprise that the boy had disappeared from their home well over a year ago. He briefly wondered how the Atlanteans had found him — perhaps, instead of a communications mirror, there had been an emergency port-key and he had accidentally triggered it.

In any case, clearly, Harry had run away, hence none of the spells had warned him the boy was no longer at the Dursleys — he had left voluntarily and not been forced by a wizard or muggle. Harry could have returned at any time, apparently. He had simply never wanted to.

Not that Dumbledore could blame him for that. He, himself, would have fled a family that treated him so shabbily. Dumbledore understood that parents had to be strict with their children, and punishments should vary with the seriousness of the misdeeds that prompted them.

Albus’ own father had never been one to “spare the rod” when the occasion demanded he apply it. But what they had subjected Harry to was far from merely being strict, and crossed over into out-right cruelty. Yes, he, too, would have fled.

The only reason the spells hadn’t collapsed years ago was that Petunia had accepted the boy into her house. That she hadn’t tossed him out, or completely turned her back on him. And that the boy had kept trying to earn her love and acceptance.

Dumbledore had never thought the boy would simply run away. And, thus, he hadn’t bothered to put a charm on Harry to either advise him that Harry had left or to prevent Harry from doing that. Or a charm to prevent the Petunia from simply abandoning the boy, which, he now knew, she had contemplated several times.

“Really, Petunia. You only had to do one thing, just one job: take care of the boy for your sister,” he said shaking his head in resignation. “Your sister! Your own flesh-and-blood!” He sighed. Getting angry now would solve nothing. The Dursleys had planted the seeds of their own destruction, now they would reap the results.

That explained the failure of the protection charm around their house. Without Harry there to provide the impetus, what little love she had for her sister’s son had fallen away. Neglected and forgotten in her eagerness and desire to care only for her husband and son, without any distractions. It had taken this long for the residual magic to fade away. Or, perhaps, when he had removed the fidelius it had exhausted what little magic that had remained at the home. It could even be that the protective charm on the house had collapsed months, or years, ago and the fidelius, for whatever reason, had prevented him from detecting its collapse.

He shook his head wearily. Not even Mrs. Figg had been able to spot anything wrong — but she was there simply to keep a watch out for wizards and witches who might be looking for Harry. Watching over Harry at times had been merely a happy happenstance. After all, who would think an aunt and uncle would treat their nephew so terribly? It was a failing of his, to expect people to be better than they really were.

The Dursleys only allowed her to see what they wanted her to see. They always made sure Harry was in good condition when they sent him over to her while they took their out-of-town trips and vacations. Months would pass without her seeing the boy, especially in the winter when children tended to stay inside. Plus, they had certainly threatened the boy enough to keep him from saying anything that might reveal the conditions he suffered under at their house when he did meet with Arabella.

And ever since last summer they had ignored Arabella. She had called them several times, since them. Her excuse had been to wonder if everything was alright — she did, after all, really like the little boy. She had pretended to want to know if they had somehow found someone else willing to babysit the boy for the ridiculously low rate she charged. They had put her off saying they had taken the boy with them, instead, now that he was older. When she mentioned not seeing him around the neighbourhood, they had simply said he was lazy and preferred to loaf around in his room, unlike their dear Dudley, a vigorous child who enjoyed the outdoors. Or that he had misbehaved and they were keeping him in his room as punishment. There was no way she could have suspected they were lying through their teeth, and that Harry had run away.

He really should have checked up on the boy as Minerva had insisted all these years. If he had, he might have been able to ameliorate their dislike for Harry into tolerance. At the very least he could have ensured the boy got regular healthy meals, proper clothes, and that their whale of a son didn’t use him for a punching bag. He shook his head sadly. There was nothing more to say or do here.

47 — Uh . . . Oops?

Dumbledore knew he would have to come up with a way to protect the boy next summer. Perhaps he could persuade Arthur to take the boy in for the summer? He could re-establish the fidelius at the end of the school year. Set it so that only the Weasley family knew he was staying with them. To everyone else, he would be an unseen shadow at their home. And if he was recognized at the Alley? Not an issue, the spell would prevent anyone from realizing Harry was with the Weasleys in the Alley, even if they were holding his hands. Yes. That would work nicely.

And the Atlanteans would make a perfect decoy. He could spread the rumour that Harry was with them. By that time, everyone would know that the foreigners were really from Atlantis. And it was highly unlikely that the Death Eaters would be able to find it. After all, for two thousand years more powerful wizards than they had devoted their lives to searching for the elusive island, and failed. And if they did manage the impossible, well, so what? Harry wasn’t there, anyway!

Shaking his head sadly, he cast a finite incantatem, cancelling the charms on Petunia that had helped protect the boy, and the Dursleys, from the Death Eaters. As well as the one that prevented anyone from interfering with the Dursleys guardianship of Harry. They certainly were not worthy of such a responsibility. He would have to find someone else.

Already working on plans of what to do next, and wondering how he would explain what had happened to Minerva and Harry, he turned around and started for the cell door.

“Wait!” she said. “Aren’t you going to do anything? We did what you wanted, we took the ungrateful little brat in. As hard as it was, we stretched our budget to include him. We raised and kept him safe, as you wanted.”

He turned back to her. “My dear,” he said quietly, “I needed you to love your sister’s son at least a little bit to maintain the protective charm I placed on your home. The little scraps you gave him sufficed, barely. However, when he left you, you forgot about him. The charm is gone now, it collapsed entirely tonight. That’s why I am here — to find out why. Sadly, it can’t be rebuilt. I will have to do something else, now.”

She stared at him with an uncomprehending frown that was slowly making its way to horror.

“I don’t need you anymore,” he concluded.

He looked around her cell. “Rather poetic justice, I think, that you are in here, now.” He sighed. “But at least they give you three good meals a day. And clothes that fit. And they don’t beat you, no matter how much you might deserve it, completely the opposite of how you treated your nephew.” He turned again, walked out the door, and stopped, turning to face her. “You and your husband really shouldn’t have been so abusive towards the officials when they stopped by. Otherwise we could have had this conversation at your home.” He stepped back and let the door close with a click. He looked at her one last time through the tiny window in the door.

“NO! WAIT!” she screamed, throwing herself against the door and pounding on it. “YOU CAN’T LEAVE US IN HERE! WHO’LL TAKE CARE OF MY DUDDERS?” She started kicking the door. “COME BACK HERE! YOU PROMISED TO HELP US IF WE NEEDED IT!”

He looked at her through the closed door. He cast a quick spell and his voice came through for her to hear easily. “Remember, my dear, you can’t mention magic to anyone. Or you might end up in Azkaban, the wizarding prison.” He looked around the facility. “It isn’t nearly as nice as this. Muggles don’t do very well in it. You, your husband, and your son would probably go insane in a month. And then die.”

She stepped back from the door, staring at him in horror.

He gave her a sad smile and walked away.

“NOOOOO!” he heard faintly through the door.

He really should have listened to Minerva all those years ago. She was going to be livid! And, no doubt, shirty for a very long time.

He wondered if there was anything he could do for Harry to begin to make up for that horrible mistake. And how to prevent that from looking as if he were giving the-boy-who-lived special treatment when he and the boy knew it was an apology.

The sky was just brightening with the dawn as he sipped at his tea. He studied the three monitoring devices, now on his desk, and looked at his notes from ten years ago. After study, he could see his mistake, now. His modified fidelius had held back the results of the monitoring spells until he had cancelled it. Then the devices had been overloaded as the negative signals, trapped by the fidelius, had crashed into them, overwhelming them and compressing ten years of results into a single display.

And the charm to prevent interference with the Dursleys’ custody of Harry? It had backfired in the worst possible way. Arabella would be devastated when he told her, if she didn’t realize it herself when she woke up this morning. His cancelling that charm on Petunia would allow her to realize what she hadn’t done.

Arabella hadn’t known why the boy was with the Dursleys, just that they were his closest relatives. So, if she had noticed anything wrong with the Dursleys’ treatment of the boy, she would have reported it to Dumbledore with the intent that he take the boy from the Dursleys. The charm against anyone interfering would have kicked in and made her delay saying anything, or even make her forget what had disturbed her in the first place. She could even have seen the Dursleys beating the boy, and the magic would have made her forget all about it.

If she could have, Arabella would have reported the Dursley’s neglect and abuse. She would have done so with the intent that Dumbledore save the boy, and put him somewhere else. That Dumbledore interfere with the Dursleys’ custody of Harry.

Dumbledore’s use of Harry’s mother’s protection on the home had required he remain there. Thus, Dumbledore’s only recourse would have been to modify the Dursleys’ behaviour instead of removing him. But Dumbledore’s plans didn’t matter to the magic, it was acting on her intent, not his. And he hadn’t had any knowledge that would even have let him form an intent to do anything.

He really should have told her why Harry was with his relatives and no one else.

And the Dursleys’ arrest? She hadn’t seen it herself as she was still recovering from her broken leg injury earlier that summer. Getting around on crutches was difficult for an old woman such as herself. But the rumour mill had been wild, she had told him, claiming they were arrested, that they had fled the bobbies, that it was all a put-up for some telly show. All she knew for sure was that they were staying someplace called the Queen’s Resort at Woking, apparently one of a chain of resorts across England. And, if she had known that the Dursleys had been arrested, her intent in telling Dumbledore would have been for him to take Harry away from the Dursleys as unfit to care for him — they had been arrested, after all — and put him with someone else.

And, as a result, the modified fidelius would have prevented her from telling Dumbledore the truth about the Dursleys’ situation.

The rumours she did report were only a bit more exaggerated than others that tended to circulate in Little Whinging, where the art of back-stabbing your neighbour was apparently a popular past-time. And muggle-born children with magic tended to make their neighbours suspicious as the neighbours never understood some of the odd things they saw and heard. Thus many of the wild rumours about Harry she had relayed to him over the years he had written off as exaggerations, or even complete fabrications by ignorant muggles.

No son of James and Lily could be a vandal, thief, or thug. That Harry could be untrustworthy was simply ludicrous. A prankster, maybe. But the rumours hadn’t mentioned pranks, not even to say that he had called them that as a defense.

Harry had been staying with the Atlanteans at the moment the Dursleys had been apprehended, as Dumbledore now knew — and the charms he had placed on the Dursleys hadn’t reacted. The constables hadn’t been trying to take Harry away from his guardians, they had been trying to find the boy.

Plus, Harry hadn’t seemed the least bit concerned about his relatives. He had been neither happy nor sad at their absence from Privet Drive. Poor Professor McGonagall hadn’t had reason to suspect anything was amiss.

Dumbledore had never placed any monitors on the Dursleys themselves, so he hadn’t a clue anything wasn’t as it should be with them. He had just assumed they had placed Harry with some friends while they went on vacation, as they had done with Arabella. And his own charms had worked against him learning the truth.

And then, there was the solicitor offering to buy Arabella’s house. The man had said he represented a firm that was planning a series of apartment building in the area. She had flatly refused, saying she couldn’t leave the Dursleys’ in the lurch without a babysitter, and claiming to be a good friend of the family.

She had asked about the Dursley’s though, to see if they had been approached. The solicitor had told her the Dursleys were not at home, and thus he hadn’t discussed anything with them. He assured her that when he did talk with the Dursleys at number Four Privet Drive, when they returned from their vacation, that he would also contact her to give her their decision. And asked her to contact the agency if she changed her mind in the meantime.

Knowing that the Dursleys were not selling, and that they were now on a vacation at one of the “Queen’s Resorts” — he snorted — she had said no more of the matter to Dumbledore. Although, now, there was no reason for her to remain in Little Whinging unless she so chose. He would leave the choice in her hands.

As for Harry? Dumbledore would have to redesign his fidelius modification to allow his charms to work properly so he could be kept safe next summer.

Or, just cast a normal fidelius on The Burrow and rely on verbal reports from Arthur, with regular visits to check on Harry himself. He could even send Minerva under the guise of discussing the Weasley boys’ exploits, and the options for the next school year. She wouldn’t mind seeing Harry occasionally in the summer, he was sure. And any Death Eaters would trigger his alarms.

One course of action was a headache of spell crafting and exhaustive spell casting, the other a headache of lost time in his schedule. Although, truthfully, the time spent visiting the Weasley’s was probably more productive in the long run than redoing his complicated spell-casting. It might even take less time, in total.

He grimaced. And Minerva was going to be furious! He’d be lucky if she didn’t start hexing him in the Great Hall at dinner the moment she saw him.

“AAAAH!” came the surprised cry, “What are you doing in here?” Dean said loudly.

“Gettin’ Harry, of course,” said Apple Bloom.

Morning already. Harry groaned and carefully cracked his eyelids open. Standing beside his bed were all five girls, the three fillies, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry said a quick prayer of thanks that the fillies were dressed. Dean’s yell had had him half-convinced they had shown up naked, in spite of his continuous entreaties for them to dress before leaving their room in Little Whinging. Although, he imagined, if they had been naked there probably would have been a great deal more yelling. He attributed their being dressed to Hermione’s presence. He doubted she would have let them leave their dorm room unclothed.

Assuming, of course, that the three hadn’t all just piled into one of their two apartment trunks and slept in the giant bed each one contained.

Harry stared at them blearily. “I’ll meet you in the common room,” he said.

They nodded, turned, and trooped out of the room and down the stairs. Harry could track their progress by the astonished exclamations of the other boys in the dorm as they encountered or saw the girls on the stairs. Harry buried his head under his pillow.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Seamus half-shouted. “How did they get in?”

Ron snickered, “They used Harry’s apartment trunk,” he explained, climbing out of his bed and starting for the First Year’s boys’ communal bathroom. The past month of early arrivals by the Atlanteans and Hermione at his home had broken him of the habit of sleeping in — there was just too much fun stuff going on to allow that. “The girls’ trunks and his are all interconnected with an internal floo-system, remember?”

There was a moment’s silence as the others digested his information, then an “Oh, that's right,” from Neville.

“Which means more room for us in the bathroom as he has one of his own,” Ron concluded as he left the room. Harry frowned. He wasn’t sure, but there might have been a trace of jealousy in the other boy’s tone. He sighed. They hadn’t wanted to become obscenely rich, they had just wanted some spending bits for school! He had explained that to the Weasley siblings last month. He got the feeling they hadn’t believed him that gems were that easy to find.

After promising the others a trunk tour after classes, they quickly split up to wash up and got dressed. Soon enough, they were meeting up in the common room with the rest of the Gryffindor First Years.

The girls were grouped around the two Quidditch girls. “Thanks for letting us borrow you apartment trunk, Sweetie Belle, that hot tub is just fantastic!” he heard Alicia say as he walked up. “I almost slept in it last night.”

“Eh, not a problem. I’ll just move my things into Scoot’s trunk and you girls can borrow mine until the end of the year. And there’s plenty of room in Scoot’s for us to share the tub.”

The two older witches hugged her, offering profuse thanks.

Harry noticed that Hermione and Ginny were blushing for some reason. The muggle-born and half-blood girls in the common room were looking at each other and mouthing the words “Hot tub?” and staring at the two chasers and the fillies with evaluating expressions.

The trip to the dining hall for breakfast was easier to understand now that they weren’t almost falling asleep on their feet. And especially because their guides went out of their way to point out easy-to-remember landmarks at key junctures. The older witches were especially helpful. Not unexpected, Harry thought. The possible reward of access to a hot tub simply for being nice to the Firsties was a powerful incentive. Showers were adequate, but nothing soothed tired muscles or a fried brain better than soaking in a hot tub, experience had taught him.

Although the tub he had used had been a metal one out behind the Apple barn, with the three fillies, and heated by his and Sweetie Belle’s combined efforts at a fire spell. They had gotten quite good at that, actually.

It was interesting to see how different the wizards’ approach to magic was than the ponies. The ponies tended to use non-specific spells for a myriad of uses, whereas the wizards had dozens of specific spells that used less magic each.

Like the levitation spell that unicorns used. They used it for everything that involved lifting. The wizards, on the other hand, had a spell for lifting straight up, a spell for lifting dishes off the table into the sink, a spell for lifting and moving furniture, and so forth. There had to be dozens of spells to learn to accomplish that one action in an equal number of circumstances. Each used less magic than simply grabbing a thing in your magic and hefting it around, but required much more study to master.

Breakfast, Harry saw as they entered the Great Hall, was another table-filling bonanza of pastries and sweets. Not to mention eggs, bangers, bacon, and steaks. Apple Bloom quickly grabbed a platter of bacon and divided it up into quarters, filling their plates and Harry’s — bacon, it seemed, was a favourite no matter your species. Harry divvied up a platter of pancakes for them. Sweetie Belle poured the pumpkin juice. Scootaloo piled their plates with chocolate covered donuts. The other Gryffindor First Years — and the Quidditch team, all of whom had chosen to sit with their new friends — stared at the remarkably quick and seemingly automatic division of labour. And then quickly filled their own plates while there was still something left.

Harry was surprised at just how much of his three plates he was able to pack away. He stuffed his leftover bacon and donuts, wrapped in a napkin, into one of his pockets. What he didn’t eat as snacks he could store in his trunk’s kitchen. Grinning, the fillies followed suit, leaving their section of the table almost completely empty of food.

Harry leaned back on his bench seat and saw Professor McGonagall walking down the aisle handing out sheets of paper. Seeing where he was looking, Alicia said, “Our schedules for the next year,” before returning to her conversation with “George.”

McGonagall gave the group an odd look when she got to them. Apparently, it was unusual for the Third Year students to sit with First Years. The occasional family member might do that, as the twins had told them back at the Weasley homestead, but for almost all of those two year-cohorts to sit together was most remarkable.

Harry saw that the First Year schedule was rather simple. Today they had History of Magic after breakfast, then Charms until lunch, both with the Hufflepuffs. After lunch came Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, both with the Ravenclaws. That left them from three o’clock on as their “free” time. Tuesday through Thursday followed the same schedule except Herbology with the Hufflepuffs replaced History of Magic. And Wednesday night was their Astronomy class. Their only class on Friday was Double Potions with the Slytherins, and it took all morning.

Then the mail arrived. Harry had quite a shock as well over a hundred owls suddenly streamed into the Great Hall through a series of windows set high against the ceiling. He stared as they circled the tables and looked for their owners. As soon as one found his owner, or recipient, he swooped down and dropped the letter or package onto the student’s lap. Or their breakfast plate if the student in question wasn’t fast enough to scoot back or make room on the table.

Harry noted with distaste a few feathers fluttering down, and quickly cast a shield spell over his and the girls’ portion of the table. The fillies quickly followed suit, covering the entire First Years’ section of the table.

Currently, their spells weren’t very powerful, but the four spells were more than enough to keep their food from being contaminated, and the feathers out of their hair. They would get better at it the more they practised. And it looked like they would be doing it daily. The Third Year students looked startled at what the Firsties had done, but quickly followed suit.

Harry shook his head. Hadn’t anyone ever thought of doing that before now? He couldn’t believe it. More likely, if anyone had thought of it, they only bothered to protect themselves.

Harry found himself the uncomfortable focus of much attention, “Look! There he is!”

“Is that really him?”

“Can you see his scar?”

“Wonder where he’s been all this time.”

Whispers followed him everywhere. Students stopping in the corridors and standing on tiptoes, or doubling back to follow him just so they could stare at him. Others delaying going into their classes to watch him walk by. It made him very uncomfortable as old paranoias instilled by his relatives came into play again — people noticing him was bad, people noticing him led to trouble. He felt himself shrinking down, slumping his shoulders.

The girls saw the stares and Harry’s reaction, and closed up around him. They glared at the offending students. The other Gryffindors picked up on it, too, and grouped around him, as well. And while that made him feel better that they were close, it did make it more difficult to concentrate on learning his way to his classes. And being crowded as a human brought up another series of ingrained reflexes. As a pony he had learned to welcome, in the fillies case, close contact while walking, standing, or sitting. Others he could at least tolerate. But as a human, such close contact, even with the fillies, made it was just awkward and he found himself flinching at those involuntary bumps.

Watching Professor Binns, who had a wrinkled turtle-like face and a lower body that trailed off into nothing, float through the wall and immediately start his lecture was a bit startling. Ten minutes later, Scootaloo spoke up when he paused in his presentation. “Professor Binns? What’s it like being dead? Is it interesting?”

The translucent wizard stared at her.

“I mean, we don’t have ghosts where we come from and I would think you would find it much more interesting to go on rather than continue teaching history as a ghost as you have for the last hundred years. Or don’t you know you’re dead?”

Sweetie Belle elbowed Scootaloo and hissed, “Be quiet!” at her.

The ghost stared at her blankly. “Hundred years?” he said in a monotone.

“Yes, sir,” she said, “It is currently . . .” she glanced around uncertainly, “uh, 1991?”

He stared at her a bit longer. “Ex-traordinary,” he said, and then abruptly resumed his lecture. The First Years exchanged glances, then went back to doodling on their parchments or making vague attempts at writing down what he was saying. His vacuum-cleaner dull voice did not inspire anyone into really paying him any attention. That he didn’t seem to even notice them, didn’t help.

Harry noticed several students giving Scootaloo and Apple Bloom curious looks as the fillies held their quills in their mouths and took sporadic notes. Harry sighed. They probably thought the fillies were nervously chewing on their quills. He had tried to teach them how to write with their hands, but they hadn’t picked it up, yet. On the other hand, he would probably just end up giving them copies of his notes. Extensive and complete notes, as Twilight had drilled into him over the last year.

“You can never have too detailed notes, Harry,” she had said. “The way to the top of the class is to have superior notes.” And then she had read his school notes every evening, asking questions for clarification. The answers to which he had to add to the notes. And if he had questions, they looked up the answers in the library and added those to his notes. Harry had learned how to rapidly take accurate and complete lecture notes.

It had been quite odd, at first, as no one had ever cared about his school work. Not even his primary school teachers had seemed to care, except to single him out for criticism. That someone, somepony, actually cared had been a surprise. And while he had grumbled at all the extra work she made him do, he really liked it when she praised his work. And the pay-off in high grades on tests had been gratifying, as well. Not to mention the celebratory dinners with lots of cake.

After ten minutes, and as he said, “The Goblin Rebellion of seventeen . . . ,” Professor Binns stopped and looked over at Scootaloo. “Dead, you say?”

Startled, she nodded and said, “Yes, sir. We were told you fell asleep in front of the staff-room fireplace a hundred years ago, got up the next morning to teach, and left your body behind.”

“Extraordinary.” He stared at her blankly for several moments and then started again, “. . . fifty-two brought about . . . .”

Five minutes later, he stopped again and looked at Scootaloo. “Am I really dead?”

Scootaloo had been most of the way to falling asleep and chirped sharply at the sudden attention, then said, “Uh, yes, sir.”

He stared at her intently. “Are you sure?”

She glanced at Harry and her other two friends. “Uh, yes, sir. Quite sure. We can see through you.”

“You can, can you?” He glanced down at his ghostly arms, frowning.

“Yes, sir,” came a chorus of other students, intrigued by what they were hearing. It was certainly more entertaining than the Goblin Rebellion he had been droning on about.

“Ex-traordinary.” He frowned as he looked around the classroom. “. . . due to the blatant mismanagement by Minister for Magic, Albert Boot, . . .” he said, and continued his lecture.

After five minutes, he stopped again. “You are sure I’m dead?”

Most of the class answered this time, all in the affirmative. Hermione added, “You’re even floating in the middle of your podium.”

“Extraordinary!” he said looking down. He looked back up and a smile slowly made its way across his wrinkled and turtle-like face. He seemed to straighten up a bit, and his eyes lost their blank million-mile stare. He looked around the class and cleared his throat. “I do believe,” he said, slowly and still in his vacuum-cleaner dull voice, “that school is out.” He licked his lips, and smiled, and said in a slightly louder voice, one that almost could be said to have emotion in it, “In fact, I think school’s out forever. School’s not out for summer. School’s out completely!” His smile grew broader as he added, “For me, that is.”

He looked up at the far corner at the back of the room and grinned.

The class watched as he started floating in that direction, with students dodging out of his way as he went right through their desks and chairs. When he reached the corner he seemed to suddenly zoom up and disappear. A faint, joyful laugh reached them just before he completely disappeared.

Everyone in the now quiet class exchanged looks.

“Um. What do we do now?” asked Hermione, “There’s still twenty minutes left in class.”

“I suppose we should tell someone,” said Neville.

“Maybe no one will notice?” suggested Scootaloo.

Nobody believed that.

“Who should we tell?”

“Does anyone know how to get to the Headmaster’s Office?”

Nobody did.

“Maybe we should tell our next professor what happened?”

“Well, we might as well head there. There’s only about fifteen minutes left, now, anyway. At least we don’t have to worry about being late to the next class,” Dean said.

48 — Dangerous? You’re Kidding, Right?

The Ravenclaws and Slytherins leaving their Charms class were puzzled that the entire Gryffindor and Hufflepuff First-year cohorts were waiting. Not only were they there already, but most were sitting and had clearly been waiting for some time.

Draco, yet again flanked by his pals Crabbe and Goyle, gave Harry and the fillies a long look before sneering and stalking away.

After most of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws had left, Harry and the fillies went in, with Scootaloo trying to hang back and pretend she didn’t know what was going on. Hermione and Ginny managed to stay just far enough back that they could escape notice as they headed for chairs.

Professor Flitwick was a tiny little wizard who stood on his desk, with a staggered pile of books stacked beside it to form a convenient staircase.

Harry frowned, wondering why he hadn’t just made a regular staircase and platform instead of obviously making do with the materials at hand. He had been here several years and that should have been more than enough time to customize the arrangement to his satisfaction. Maybe those books were by authors he disliked?

From her expression, Hermione was more than a little offended to see that someone would defile books so far as to actually walk on them — and reduce them to the level of mere flooring. That it was a professor doing so merely increased the depth of disrespect displayed to those undeserving tomes. Harry shuddered to think how Twilight would react to such a desecration of holy objects.

The professor was surprised to see his next class start filing in almost before the previous one left. “Yes?” he said to the four students as they came up to his desk. “Can I help you?”

Apple Bloom pushed Scootaloo to the forefront. Scootaloo had on her innocent face, trying to give the impression she was just an innocent bystander in the latest Cutie Mark Crusader fiasco. She cleared her throat. “Um, Professor?”

He nodded encouragingly.

She took a breath, “We were just in History of Magic and Professor Binns left.”

“Left?” inquired the puzzled professor.

“Yeah. He, um, passed on?”

“Passed on?” The diminutive wizard’s arched his eyebrows incredulously.

Scootaloo shuffled her feet awkwardly. The others held still so as not to draw the attention of their teacher — a skill they had developed in the Everfree Forest when evading predators. “Yes. I think he said ‘School’s out completely! For me, that is,’ and then flew up into the back right-hand corner of the classroom and disappeared, laughing.” She waved her hand to indicate the direction and then swallowed. “And now there’s no one to teach History of Magic.”

“Oh dear,” he said quietly and stared at the filly intently. He sighed, then waved his wand and said, “expecto patronum.” An unfamiliar silvery animal flew out of his wand and stood on its hind legs looking up at him. “Go to the Headmaster. Professor Binns has gone and we need a History of Magic teacher as of right now.” The silvery beast nodded and ran off through the air and through the hall wall. All the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs watched in stunned surprise. Most had never even heard of that magic, much less seen it.

He turned to the four students and said, “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

After their hesitant explanation, with a few comments thrown in by the other students, mostly Hermione and Ginny, Professor Flitwick introduced himself to the class. Unfortunately, the rest of the class was boring in that most of it was about wands, taking care of wands, and general magic theory. Their professor tried to make it interesting, but even so, the only spells they “learned” were the two basics, lumos and nox. Which Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the fillies had mastered very early last month.

There was a slight bit of excitement when Professor Flitwick saw both Harry and Sweetie Belle using their magic to take notes. They were listening intently, with one hand propping up their chins and the other on their desks anchoring their papers, as their quills quickly scribbled away.

“Oh my!” he said excitedly, “Who taught you that?”

Harry and Sweetie Belle exchanged puzzled looks. “Um, Twilight taught me last year, and Sweetie Belle picked it up from me, I guess.”

“And that was before you got your wands, right?”

They both nodded and said, “Yes, Professor Flitwick.”

“It was a little tricky at first,” Harry continued, “but the longer we did it the easier it became. Sweetie Belle learned it faster than I did because she helps her sister with her sewing, so she was used to moving needles and threads quickly with her magic.” He wrinkled his nose. “Now, I barely have to think about it. And the writing is soo much cleaner, which makes it easier to read later.”

That turned into a quick impromptu discussion of wandless magic and how it differed from wanded magic. And the benefits of being able to take notes while their hands were busy doing something else.

Neither of the two pointed out the obvious usefulness of casting magic while desperately holding with all four limbs onto the safety of a branch, or galloping at full speed from certain death at the teeth of hungry pursuers.

“Three points each, Mr. Potter, Miss Belle, for such an excellent display of fine control, and with wandless magic, no less!”

In all the excitement, no one noticed that the other two fillies were mouth-writing with their quills.

Lunch started with an announcement. The Headmaster struck his goblet several times to make a gong-like noise to attract everyone’s attention. “As many of you have no doubt heard, Professor Binns is no longer with us.” He was looking directly at the Gryffindor First Years cohort as he said this.

There was a brief break as shouts of relief ran through the hall.

The Headmaster smiled. “Hm, yes. It appears that he had not realized he was dead and a ghost all this time. I believe it was Miss Aloo, in Gryffindor, that brought that to his attention.”

There were many interested looks directed her way.

“He has moved on to the next great adventure of his life after almost two hundred years teaching History of Magic. I am sure we will all miss him.” The Headmaster halted and peered over his glasses. “In the meantime, History of Magic classes are cancelled until a suitable replacement for the position can be found.”

“Here’s hoping the new one is still breathing!” shouted one of the twins as the Headmaster sat back down. “And knows more’n just Goblin Rebellions,” put in the other one.

The Hall broke into laughter for a few moments before moving on to their lunch.

Transfiguration class was fun, at first. Harry saw the cat sitting on the desk at the front of the classroom, as they all filed in after lunch, and laughed.

The cat glared at him.

The fillies were equally amused. They sat themselves at the front of the class, as usual. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo sat on either side of Harry, while Apple Bloom sat behind him. The fillies had been changing positions in each class so far so that the each had a chance at watching Harry’s back. Hermione and Ron traded sitting beside whomever was behind Harry. Ginny usually took the seat on other side.

Harry, the fillies, and Hermione grinned at each other, and at Lily Moon. She was the only other muggle-born in the class to receive a visit from Professor McGonagall and see her animagus transformation.

“What’s so funny?” Ron asked. Ginny and Neville also looked on curiously.

Harry, after a quick glance at the still-glaring cat, grinned at him and said, “You’ll see, just wait until everyone is here.”

Watching the other students and their astonished reactions when the “cat” on the desk transformed into their Professor had those six snickering out loud.

From their brief meetings in July, Harry had assumed that she would be a strict teacher. Her leading statement that transfiguration was complex and dangerous, and that anyone messing around would be banned, proved that, and was taken to heart by the herd.

They were all very impressed when she changed her desk into a pig and back again, although the Equestrians couldn’t help but think of Discord’s abilities. They couldn’t wait to get started, but the complicated notes they had to take demonstrated that that wasn’t likely to happen soon.

Harry and Sweetie’s wandless penmanship earned them a raised eyebrow and little else. Harry was tempted to change into his unicorn form, but decided that maybe that might be considered showing off.

Three-quarters of the way through the class, Professor McGonagall gave them each a match and told them to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, Harry and Hermione had managed to turn their matches all silver and pointy, and earned them a point each for Gryffindor. Sweetie, on the other hand, had a nice long sharp needle with a hole for the thread at the opposite end. She got two points.

Sweetie Belle, Harry knew, had a lot of practice with her sister helping her sew. That gave her a rather thorough knowledge of how a needle looked and felt in her magic. And Harry thought he had an advantage in consciously using magic for over a year, especially for his note-taking.

That made Hermione’s progress all the more impressive, which he made sure to tell her. She pinked a bit at his compliments.

Everyone had really been looking forward to their next class, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry was hoping for a few tips they might be able to use against the timber-wolves, cockatrices, manticores, and other pesky denizens of the Everfree that they had had a few run-ins with in the past. Unfortunately, the room was pretty bland when they entered, with nothing more frightening than the strong aroma of garlic. The other students who had already had his class had said at lunch that the garlic smell, which centred on Quirrell’s turban, was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania. Apparently, he was afraid the vampire might track him down one of these days.

When they asked him directly, in class, about his turban, he had told them it had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie.* Harry wasn’t sure he believed that story. Especially after Seamus eagerly asked how Quirrell had fought off the zombie.* Instead of answering, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather.*

On top of that, Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. Between his stuttering, stops, and half-finished sentences, it was difficult to understand anything he said.

Later, the Weasley twins told the First Year’s that the turban was stuffed full of garlic so that Quirrell had vampire protection wherever he went. Harry . . . was not convinced.

Afterwards, all-in-all, it was a disappointing class, the Gryffindors agreed. Which was odd, they also agreed, given that their text, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, seemed to be a thorough and interesting introduction to the subject. They would have to take extra time in the evenings to study the text, they decided.

Peeves the Poltergeist was a major nuisance that day — and every day, they discovered. He would drop wastepaper baskets on their heads, pull rugs from under their feet, pelt them with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind them, invisible, grab their nose, and screech, “GOT YOUR CONK!”* Yes, he was one for pranks, he was.

The three fillies had quickly adopted a triangle strategy around Harry, much as they had when they had visited Diagon Alley. Each watched their surroundings closely — unlike Diagon Alley, here they expected an “attack.” Even if it was only from Peeves, it was still annoying and distasteful. And their Everfree escapades had taught them many survival techniques. With wands in hands, they were quick to use the shield spell Harry had taught them earlier that month after their experiences in the Alley. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were quick to catch on and stuck close to the Equestrians. It didn’t take long before the other Gryffindor Firsties joined them to present a united front.

The other ghosts didn’t deliberately pull pranks, but it was still a nasty surprise when one of them glided out of the door you were about to open. Or worse, glided out of a wall or floor, through you, and then on to wherever they were going without so much as a by-your-leave! What made it especially irksome was that it was like being plunged into chilly water when one passed through you, leaving you with a chill to the very bones for several minutes. While it was shocking, after climbing a lot of stairs and feeling overheated, it was kind of nice, at least right now. In the middle of winter, though? The thought made Harry shudder. It would leave you freezing the rest of the day.

“Thank you,” Castor said to the small group of ten men after they had boarded the small bus with frosted windows, “for volunteering for this experimental procedure. Now that the physicals are complete and you’ve signed the non-disclosure agreement, I can tell you that you are not going to be fitted with new prostheses using classified experimental technology, as you were told previously.” He continued before they could begin to express their opinions at being lied to, “We will be attempting to regrow your lost fingers or hands.” That stopped any protests.

“These procedures are a joint effort between Her Majesty’s government and Royal Equestrian Technologies, and are considered, at the moment, to be Top Secret. Please do not discuss this program with anyone not involved in it until we give you clearance to do so. You may simply say it was an experimental procedure and you don’t know any more than that.

“We will be taking you to a new facility, in a secret location . . . .”

The path to the portal now had a permanent canopy, and the walkway was much wider. The tent had been replaced by a wooden building with a transparent but frosted roof.

With the help of the previous group of volunteers, and the use of some magic that Twilight called don’t-notice-it on the tree itself — a curtain hid the tree, they simply pushed through the curtain and arrived at the portal’s other side — these ten would never realize they had left Earth. The wooden spiralling deck had its own canopy, now. And with a repeat of the don’t-notice-it magic, targeted at the humans, they wouldn’t see the enormous walls surrounding the park-like setting on the other side.

The new building on the other side of the portal appeared, from the inside, to be a normal hospital facility, looking out into a small forested area. It would fool them for the few days it would take to regrow the fingers or hands that had been lost.

If everything worked as they hoped.

Hermione suggested that they get an early start on their assignments after D. A. D. A. let out, but was out-voted. “Are you kidding?” demanded Dean. “It’s nice and sunny outside. And we haven’t even taken a look at the Forbidden Forest! We can do our assignments after dinner.” The fillies, Harry noted, perked up at the mention of the wizarding equivalent to the Everfree Forest. He sighed in resignation. It was only a matter of time . . . .

Thus, they spent the next two hours exploring the castle’s grounds.

Apple Bloom stood in front of the Forbidden Forest, hands on her hips, staring into it intently. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle flanked her. Harry and the other Gryffindors stood nervously behind them. A few of the other first year students had taken to following them rather than walking alone. When Harry looked back at the group behind him, he saw Percy headed their way, having seen the large group near the forest. Several other students had started to drift over, as well, expecting a little entertainment at watching Percy cow the Firsties.

“Don’t look that imposin’, does it?” Apple Bloom drawled.

“Eenope,” said Scootaloo, getting a frowning glance from Apple Bloom.

“It doesn’t look scary at all,” Sweetie Belle said. “Not like the Everfree, whatsoever.” She shivered.

“It’s supposed to have werewolves, trolls, and giant spiders in it. There are also centaurs and unicorns who don’t like wizards or witches,” said Ron, looking into the forest curiously. “At least, that’s what my brothers told me. And poisonous snakes.” He shuddered. “It’s got a lot of Dark creatures in it.”

“What’s a werewolf?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Ron stared at her. “It’s a monster. They look like normal wizards and witches, but once a month during the full moon, they turn into wild mindless monsters, wolves, that hunt and kill people for fun. If you get bit by one, you turn into one of them, too.” He shuddered, again.

“Just once a month? And only during the full moon?” Scootaloo sounded disappointed, which garnered her some questioning looks from the other students.

“No manticores?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Ron shook his head, “Not that I’ve heard.”

“How about cockatrices?”

“Uh, no?”

“Timber-wolves?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Hydras?” asked Scootaloo.

“Not that my brothers have mentioned,” he said.

“Chimeras?”

“No.”

“Tatzlwurms?”

“What?”

“Stellar beasts like Ursa Majors or Minors?” asked Sweetie Belle, somewhat disbelievingly.

Ron shook his head no.

“Are you sure this is the Forbidden Forest?”

Ron nodded.

Harry had the oddest desire to ask if there was any limburger in it.

“Can’t be all that dangerous, then,” Apple Bloom sneered, “Sounds more like the White Tail Woods than the Everfree.”

“Sounds down-right friendly, actually,” Sweetie Belle said. “I mean, the trees don’t even look slightly scary or anything.”

“Are you saying that that Everfree forest has those creatures in it?” asked Dean suspiciously.

Scootaloo snorted, “Yeah, we’ve run into all those monsters in the Everfree Forest. It’s just outside of Ponyville.”

The other students looked at the three girls incredulously.

Harry snickered, “RD still teases Twilight about getting turned to stone and needing Fluttershy to use The Stare to get the cockatrice to change her back.”

More than a few jaws dropped at hearing this. Many plainly did not believe it.

“Giant spiders, though,” Scootaloo said speculatively, staring into the forest with a half-smile. She turned to the other two fillies and grinned widely. They took the cue and the cry rang out over the lawn, “Cutie Mark Crusaders Giant Spider Wranglers!” and slapped their hands together in an awkward three-way high-five. It worked better when they were ponies slapping their hooves together.

Harry face-palmed.

The students around them exchanged looks, and clearly thought that the three foreigners were completely barmy.

Percy cleared his throat. The younger students quickly turned to face him, most not realizing a Prefect had followed them. There was a bit of a crowd now. “The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for students to enter without a Professor as an escort!” he said firmly. “If I hear any of you — any — have gone into it, it’ll be a week of detentions, if not a month, at least.” He stared at Harry and the Equestrians. “And I’ll be sure to inform your Princesses.” He crossed his arms and glared at them, frowning, and attempting to copy his mother’s formidable continence. It was a good effort, but couldn’t hold a candle to Applejack or Rarity when they were on the CMC warpath.

The three fillies gulped and looked innocent. It wasn’t nearly as effective while they were humans, Harry noticed. The four of them nodded slowly, indicating they understood his challenge. Harry’s nod was more in resignation, he knew he had almost zero chances of preventing any forest explorations. The best he could do was moderate the resulting damage.

He shook his head. Sap, he knew, would be involved — this was a forest, after all. Well, at least that third-floor corridor wouldn’t have any sap. He hoped. Cutie Mark Crusader Castle Explorers had been that rallying cry. He sighed. He wondered if the wizards had fire-and-flood insurance.

Several of the listening students exchanged glances at hearing the word “princesses” in connection with the three unusually named girls. One of whom had managed to get rid of a teacher that day — their very first day of classes, actually. Quite an achievement, when you thought about it. It had been accidental, but still — the school was now short a teacher. And the three foreign witches knew princesses, plural. As in, more than one.

Harry sighed as he watched. He could almost read the other students’ minds just from their expressions. There was going to be a lot of gossip and rumours about the fillies. And him. As if he didn’t already have enough problems with rumours from those stupid books.

Not even here a day, and already developing a reputation. He wondered how long it would take before the sight of Harry and the fillies, intent on an adventure, would send the other students scurrying for cover like the citizens of Ponyville did when they saw Scootaloo zooming down the street with the other three in the cart behind her.

“So,” said Sweetie Belle, in an obvious ploy to change the subject, “werewolves. They only change once a month?”

Percy nodded.

“Why would they want to change if they turn into mindless beasts?” asked Scootaloo.

“They don’t have a choice,” explained the Prefect. “As soon as the full-moon rises in the evening, they change and become mindless vicious beasts. It’s a terrible curse.”

The three fillies exchanged looks. Watching the moon here go through its different phases over the last month, and even disappearing completely for a night, had completely thrown their world-view through a loop. It was so unlike Princess Luna’s moon, which always appeared as a full moon. Or sometimes a half moon when she was feeling lazy. Or a quarter-moon when she feeling mischievous. But it was always up in some form every night.

“And they can’t do it any other time?”

Harry sighed, he could almost read Scootaloo’s mind, Only one night a month? Phhht! That was nothing to worry about. Now, nightly, that would be a problem for the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

“Werewolves,” she said softly, rolling the word around in her mouth, and giving a sly look at her three co-conspirators. Only Percy’s presence prevented an enthusiastic cry of Cutie Mark Crusaders Werewolf Hunters, Harry knew.

Percy shook his head, “No.”

“Do they hunt other animals?”

“Only if they’re hungry.”

“So, if we were ponies we would be safe?” asked Apple Bloom thoughtfully.

Neville was nodding his head in agreement, clearly following Apple Bloom’s thoughts as well as Harry was.

Percy frowned, “Perhaps, as long as they weren’t hungry,” he said. “You would at least have a better chance of running and escaping.” He glanced at Scootaloo, “Or flying and escaping.” He paused. “Not that you’ll be going into the Forest, will you.” he said emphatically.

They hastily shook their heads — they well-knew the lesson that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. And a month’s grounding was usually worth it — if they were caught. And they actually had a pretty good record at not getting caught. Naturally, their sisters and relatives didn’t know that little fact.

“Just asking, you know,” Sweetie Belle said, “Hypothetically speaking, that is. In case we saw one. They are supposed to be in this forest. So, you know, it could happen.”

Percy maintained his disapproving glare. “Right.”

“Wait a minute!” said Dean. “What do you mean ‘if you were ponies?’ Are you saying you can turn into ponies?” he asked incredulously.

The three fillies looked at their friends and smirked.

Harry sighed. He was doing that a lot lately.

Scootaloo snorted. A moment later, a small orange pegasus with a purple mane was flapping her wings above the group.

The gasp from the watchers echoed off the castle walls far behind them.

There was a brief burst of giggles and snorts from several of the Firsties.

A few seconds later, half the Gryffindor cohort had transformed into unicorns, pegasi, or just ponies. After a moment’s stunned silence, the girls watching all reacted the same: loud excited squeals followed by dashing forward and grabbing one of the ponies. “So cute!” was the loud cry, followed seconds later by “So fluffy!”

Harry, fortunately, he thought, managed to dodge his closest starry-eyed fan and took off running for the castle.

“Coward!” Ron yelled after him as he struggled in the arms of a big second-year Ravenclaw girl.

The boys watched in shocked silence.

Percy just sighed and kept watch on the forest.

Scootaloo’s hovering above them allowed her to launch herself higher and evade the two girls who had leapt up at her. She laughed as Ginny struggled to escape the clutches of a surprisingly strong, for her size, Hufflepuff first-year.

The boisterous group at the edge of the forest with the technicolour miniature pegasus flying overhead drew attention from all over the lawn.

Several upper-year girls broke into runs at seeing the small red-and-gold unicorn with a black mane and tail racing across the lawn towards the castle entrance.

The strategy of running for the castle had a major flaw. The closer he got, the more girls there were who saw him. Which quickly led to him getting trapped in a circle of admiring, cooing fans. “Aw, bollocks,” he said.

Just as they were closing in, he transformed back.

The girls stood around him, stunned.

“You’re a wizard!”

“You’re an animagus!”

“Merlin’s Sack!”

“Change back!”

“Yeah, change back!”

“Maybe later,” Harry shot back at them. “I gotta get my friends.” He turned and started back towards the group. The older witches followed him. The group was much larger by the time he arrived.

Percy had arranged a system. Each girl was allowed only five minutes to cuddle with a pony before she had to let someone else have a turn. He convinced Harry to participate by saying how unfair it was to his friends. Harry almost challenged him to transform as well, but decided that because Percy was the one enforcing rule upon the mob, it would be better not to. Who knew what it might devolve into if he lost control. And, Percy might like to keep that secret a bit longer.