If Wishes Were Ponies, Book II

by tkepner

First published 8th of December, 2020

Harry Potter and the CMC are ready for their second year at Hogwarts. Tom Riddle is not pleased.

Harry Potter and the CMC have somehow managed to survive their first year at Hogwarts. Equestria has met Earth, and both are astonished at what they've discovered. The Muggles think Equus is a planet from another galaxy, or dimension. The Wizards all think that Equestria is Atlantis. The evidence for both groups appears conclusive. The changelings haven't been idle, though. And neither has been Tom Riddle and his supporters.

Wow, hit Featured on the first day, 12/08/20, and lasted until the 12th! Yeah, Ch. 1-4! Looks like Ch. 5 put it back for a short time. Ch. 6 lasted an hour on Featured. Ch.s 7-9 lasted at least 2.

Art work by: Mix-up. You can find him at DeviantArt, or his Youtube Channel. This current artwork will be replaced by a different one fairly soon.

Ch. 01. Summer Hols

Professor Lupin was Sirius Black’s best friend, and had a pale face with premature lines, and light brown hair. He was also quite tall, standing six feet, two inches. While Sirius had accompanied Harry and his herdmates over to Equestria at the end of their first school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Remus had stayed behind to finish off some the loose ends regarding grades, schedules, and planning for the next term. He also had to make more permanent arrangements for being absent from his home not only for most of the summer hols, but also for the coming school year.

As a result, he was delayed until the middle of July, almost in time for the full-moon.

Full-moons were a problem for Remus Lupin — he had a “condition” that made it very difficult for him to function at those times. The days before he was always more irritable and touchier about what people said or did around him. The days after, he was usually very tired and depressed. The night of the full-moon could be quite violent, if he wasn’t extremely careful.

Not much unlike what most women go through once a month, but much, much worse.

That had been lessened, somewhat, by him finally having access to the new potion that held those things to a minimum — Wolfsbane Potion. It tasted terrible, and had a regimen requiring its use for a full week before the full moon. Missing even one dose made it useless.

Remus was, to his misfortune, a werewolf.

The professor had been one of those invited to visit Ponyville over the summer hols. Mainly, so he and Sirius could work out a few of their differences in a neutral location.

Sirius had spent almost ten years in Azkaban, the terrifying wizard prison, without being charged with a crime. He had been thought to be guilty of betraying his best-friend and his best-friend’s wife in service to a Dark Wizard. Remus had been convinced of his guilt, and never sought the truth.

Sirius, despite being good friends with Remus, had thought him in service to the Dark Wizard.

Their first meeting, months before, in the wizarding world had started awkwardly, moved to yelling, and ended with both sobbing on each other’s shoulders. The only reason their reunion hadn’t dissolved into spell fire had been because their friends had relieved them of their wands.

However, Sirius had many medical appointments with mind healers. His long imprisonment in Azkaban, the wizarding prison staffed with creatures that inspired despair and hopelessness in the prisoners, had done untold damage to his psyche. It would take years of therapy before he could be said to have recovered — not that he wouldn’t have lingering effects for the rest of his life. Long-term false imprisonment took a toll no matter who one was. Especially in Azkaban.

Complicating things since then, of course, had been that Remus had to live at the castle during the school year, and his duties there severely limited his opportunities to meet with his old friend.

Which was why they wanted to get together over the summer.

Remus had prepared as well as he could for travel to Equestria. His luggage consisted almost entirely of a small bag that fit easily in his pocket. He knew that clothes would not be a problem, as most ponies in Equestria never bothered — and why should they? They were already wearing fur coats!

So, he packed his toothbrush, a camera, a few other incidentals, and that was it!

Passing through the Equestrian Embassy, and the three security checkpoints, he found very interesting. Most of those in the Embassy were ponies, with a smattering of those in human form, plus human visitors and employees. The checkpoints to the Portal, however, each had six well-armed guards, three human and three pony.

It was rather intimidating, actually, especially as the ponies were all equipped with saddle-mounted mini-guns. Astonishingly, they had managed to make sure every traveller, muggle or magical, was discretely scanned for illusions, poly-juice, animagus, and other magical methods of fooling people into thinking you were someone you weren’t. No one would be sneaking in or out of Equestria. The scans were extended to their clothes and possessions, too, and included a few spells he had never heard of or seen before.

There was even a checkpoint immediately before the Portal, itself!

The muggles never noticed the magic.

The equestrian scheme to hide all their magic use under the term of “highly advanced technology” was paying off, as the non-magicals uniformly misinterpreted the magic they did see. The “pretend” tech devices they waved around or had people stand in front of were more than enough to fool the muggles. It was quite clever, he had to admit.

To his dismay, however, his arrival in Equestria, was not without drama. He had collapsed almost immediately after transiting the portal, convulsing on the ground, for several minutes. Then he had passed out. As he was now a unicorn, like all the other wizards and witches to come through the portal, no one knew what the problem was.

Their doctors did the best they could to stabilize his condition, and quickly moved him into quarantine in the Portal Hospital. He had awoken briefly, in his room, only to once more go into convulsions just moments later. Before anypony could get into the room, he had passed out, again.

Sirius, Harry, his herdmates, and his friends had all gathered in the waiting room for news on the wizard who was either a friend or their Professor.

By this time, they had both doctors from Equestria and healers from the wizarding world on-site trying to determine what had and was happening.

It was one of the healers who noticed that his second set of convulsions just so happened to coincide with moonrise. Not hard to do for the healer once they knew their patient was a werewolf and that the full moon was due back at their home.

Luna had decided to synchronize her moon’s phases with that of the Earth’s moon, so it was a full moon she brought up.

Once the connection was made between the moon and Remus being a werewolf, word was sent to Canterlot. Luna was quick to respond, and for the first time in centuries, Equestria, and the rest of their world, had a moonless night.

No doubt there would be complaints from the neighbouring countries about the Royal Sisters playing games with the celestial bodies, again.

It was another hour before Remus settled into a deep slumber that appeared to be natural. The doctors discussed waking him, but decided it would be better to let him wake naturally. If he woke up at all.

In the meantime, the wizarding healers cast spells and dithered over the results. They showed Remus to be a normal wizard, but they weren’t sure if the spells were performing correctly in the magical environment of Equestria. Having the moon pop up and down like a yo-yo was not normal, as far as they were concerned, and who knew what that would do to their moon-based spells?

It wasn’t until the next day that Remus sluggishly rolled over and weakly said, “Where am I? What happened?” He stared at the doctors, healers, nurses, friends, students, and Princesses. Princesses! They stared back from the other side of the reinforced glass window separating the quarantine room from the observation room.

All he could remember was stepping through the portal, seeing the sun low in the sky, and then a pain that encompassed his whole body had hit him, and he had collapsed to the deck under his hooves. He remembered briefly opening his eyes, but being almost immediately overcome with pain once more.

Which is what he told them after getting a drink and taking a few moments to finish waking up and gather his thoughts.

The doctors then told him of what had happened, and what they had done. On hearing that he had gone into convulsions when Luna rose the full moon, his eyes shot wide open for a moment. He should be a werewolf, right now, not a pony! He tightly shut his eyes and frowned as he thought.

“I can’t feel the wolf!” he suddenly exclaimed. “He’s gone! There’s nothing there!”

Sirius, and several of the students, were gobsmacked.

“Are you sure? No sign at all? Maybe it’s in a deep sleep?” one of the healers said almost in sync with Sirius.

The healer then moved to casting their diagnostic spells, again. They all returned the same answer. Remus wasn’t a werewolf.

Except for Sirius, his visitors headed for home. It had been a long, sleepless night and they were exhausted.

Remus, on the other hand . . . hoof . . . had had a good nights sleep. Much better than anything he had managed as a werewolf on a full-moon night, that was for sure! He spent the rest of the day in the quarantine room, probing his mind, trying to see if it was a trick — and talking things over with Sirius.

He also spent some time adapting to walking on all fours. While the werewolf was based on wolf-like attributes, werewolves spent most of their time on two legs, not four.

Partway through the day, the healers and doctors came to him and told him what they thought had happened.

His “furry problem,” as Sirius liked to call it, had been responsible for his first collapse at the outside of the portal. His new body, a unicorn, had tried to adapt to the problem of being magically required to transform into a non-pony at some point. The animagus, the wizarding ability to change to another animal, was not available to ponies.

Oh, they had spells to change into other animals, just as the wizards and witches had spells to do the same thing.

But being a werewolf was different. That was now a part of his animagus magic.

That had been responsible for his first collapse at the outside of the portal. His unconsciousness had been the result of his magic and the unicorn body’s magic working at that problem — attacking each other viciously, trying to drive the other out. Or, perhaps, merely subjugating the other. No one knew.

The full-moon rising, which should have triggered a wizard-to-werewolf transformation on the other side of the portal, came into an immediate conflict with a unicorns’ nature of not being able, innately, to transform in such a manner. It simply didn’t have that native ability. The werewolf curse tried to use an ability that wasn’t present. The werewolf curse, though, now had to devote part of its magical energy towards accomplishing that transformation. The unicorn magic just continued trying to evict the foreign curse.

If not for the full-moon that night, who knew what the unicorn’s magic might have come to as an accommodation? Perhaps it would have kept the curse subjugated as a potential problem that didn’t need a solution. The full-moon, though, in the midst of the conflict, had required a complete resolution.

Wizards and witches have the ability to transform into a specific animal as a part of their nature. Those wizards and witches that are infected with the werewolf curse have their animagus form replaced with that of the werewolf. Otherwise, those wizards and witches would have an animagi form in addition to the werewolf — and they don’t. Even if they had had an animagus form before getting the curse, afterwards, they only had the werewolf form once a full moon.

The werewolf curse, on the night of the full-moon, takes advantage of the wizarding animagus ability to force the wizard or witch to transform into the werewolf form. It traps them like that until sunrise by submerging their reasoning ability. The curse replaces their reasoning with rage at the humans who had done this to them. Which spread the curse, if the wizard or witch didn’t isolate themselves in time to prevent them from hunting down and attacking the humans they hated with such passion.

Ponies don’t have the animagus ability. While they do have spells to transform into other creatures, they don’t have an innate ability to do so. In Remus’ case, the curse tried to force a change with a magical ability that didn’t exist in the pony. It had destroyed itself in the ensuing fight with Equestria’s unicorn magic.

They verified the curse was gone the next night, when Luna rose a full-moon as a test and Remus had failed to react at all. They had even let him out of the room into the grassy area that fronted the hospital. He had spent hours staring at the moon and stars.

Then, the next morning, he and Sirius had gone back through the portal and went to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Once there, they went to the Werewolf Registry of the Beast Division to perform the official check on his werewolf status. After three tries, the last by an Unspeakable, the Department Head was forced to conclude he was no longer a werewolf. The next full-moon on that side of the portal, only a few weeks later in July, would be conclusive proof that he wasn’t a werewolf.

Sirius got Lyall Lupin, a member of the council in charge of the department to agree that an official statement to that affect would be published in the Daily Prophet, and a letter officially declaring his status as “not a werewolf” would be issued at that time.

Had he, inadvertently, discovered a cure for the werewolf curse? It was painful, true, but not nearly as painful as the transformation into a werewolf was itself.

He spent the remaining weeks of July back in the wizarding world contacting a few of the more trusting werewolves and telling them what had happened. Because they knew he had been a werewolf, yet the werewolf-detection spell now indicated he wasn’t, they were willing to give it a try.

The explosion caught them all off guard. The Unspeakables were quick with their magic shields, as were Headmaster Dumbledore, Princess Twilight, Magical Law Enforcement Department Head Amelia Bones, and the three aurors that were with them. Fortunately for Harry, Twilight’s shield covered both of them. However, they were all still momentarily blinded by the flash.

Dazed, Harry sat up from his new position on the floor. He blinked furiously, trying to see what had happened. His ears were still ringing when Harry’s eyes started to recover from the brilliant blast of white light. The room slowly emerged from the white fog that seemed to surround him. He took a quick look around to see if anything had been damaged.

They were in a large, rectangular, dimly lit room, with a sunken circular stone pit in the centre about six yards deep, just like before. So, they hadn’t been transported to anywhere else — which is what probably would have happened if they had been in Equestria. That was just the way his and his mum’s luck worked back home.

The pit was lined with stone benches and descended in steep steps toward a raised stone dais at the bottom. On the dais was a free-standing ancient crumbling stone archway. The archway appeared to be hung with a tattered black curtain. The curtain was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched by a faint wind, the explosion not even disturbing it. The air in the room was still and cold.

As Harry’s eyes recovered and he began to recognise more details, everything in the room looked exactly as it did before, except the people were half-crouched and blinking in reaction to what had happened. There was no sign of the box he had just thrown into the Veil.

The Unspeakables had been in the room for at least an hour before he had arrived, making unspecified “preparations.” Harry, and those accompanying him, had arrived only a few minutes before the explosion. As the adults had planned a month ago, the Headmaster Dumbledore and Twilight had brought Harry directly from the Weasley homestead to the so-called Death Room, where they had met the Unspeakables, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and her aurors.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, also known as Voldemort but actually named Tom Marvolo Riddle at birth, had been captured by Dumbledore and Twilight in a tremendous battle weeks ago. They had kept his spirit — the wizard he had been possessing had died — in a special “spirit trap” in the Headmaster’s desk. They had had to wait this long because they had wanted to make sure that they had destroyed the things that Tom Riddle had created to ensure his survival after death — his immortality. Those horrible items, called horcruxes, anchored him to this plane. As long as one of them existed, he would be held back here.

The hunt had been difficult, but they thought they had destroyed all of the monster’s soul anchors: the Gaunt family ring, Ravenclaw’s tiara, Slytherin’s locket, and Hufflepuff’s cup. They believed that Lord Voldemort had rendered his soul into five pieces, counting himself, a magically powerful number.

Harry’s desperate parents, knowing that the evil wizard wanted to kill their son because of a prophecy, had used old, ancient, nearly forgotten to create a protective spell for Harry. When the evil wizard had tried to kill the helpless infant that fateful Halloween night, that spell had reflected the wizard’s killing spell back at him, instead. Unfortunately, his spell had accidentally fractured his soul a sixth time when it did that. To avoid dissipating, as it should have, that piece of soul had latched onto Harry as the only living thing close to it. Weakened by the attack, the protective spell from his parents couldn’t eliminate the intruder, but it had prevented that soul-piece from harming Harry.

Ironically, the soul-piece had been accidentally destroyed by a magic-consuming villainous centaur in Equestria, Tirek, over a year ago.

Now, with all his anchors destroyed, they had thought they could safely pitch the box containing Lord Voldemort through the veil. The Unspeakables believed the portal led straight to world of the dead, and that someone who went through the Veil would be forever trapped in the world of death.

Well, at least, nothing thrown through had ever come back.

Some people, Harry had been told previously, could hear voices from behind the Veil. The Unspeakables claimed that the voices were the whisperings of the dead, trying to talk to their loved ones still living.

Harry was one of them, he had discovered on entering the room. The had the urge to go closer, that maybe it was his parents trying to talk to him, had been powerful, indeed. He could almost make out the words he heard. However, Twilight, his adoptive mother, was right at his side. She had put her arm around his shoulders to help him resist the temptation.

As planned, Harry had approached the Veil. After a quick look at his mother, who nodded, he had tossed the box in an under-handed throw at the curtain in the archway. He had been confident that evil Lord Voldemort would be no more.

The explosion had occurred at the very instant the box had touched the non-corporeal curtain.

“What happened?” Harry said hesitantly, standing up, still blinking and rubbing his eyes.

“I’m not sure,” Twilight said, just as hesitantly as she, too, regained her feet. She looked around suspiciously. “Based on the lack of debris, I think that either the box has been destroyed entirely, or it has gone through the Veil.” Copying the Unspeakables and the Headmaster, she, too, began to cast spells trying to determine what had happened.

After several minutes, she sighed and looked over to the Headmaster. “Well, the spells sealing the walls against spirits seem to be intact. And my spirit detection spells merely cause the arch to glow. Which they did when we first came in here.”

One of the Untouchables nodded in agreement.

“I guess the explosion was the result of the spells on the box coming into conflict with the Veil’s curtain.” She worried her lower lip for a moment. “Perhaps spells can’t cross the boundary. Or, at least, those spells can’t.” She shook her head and frowned worriedly. “I can’t detect any signs of Tom Riddle’s soul in the room, though.” She sighed and stared at the arch. “That thing is so magically bright it’s hard to tell.”

Again, one of the Unspeakables nodded his head in agreement. “There are permanent spirit detection spells in this room,” he said. His despondent tone, made it sound like he was disappointed at that fact. “Should it have remained outside the Veil, and escaped our detections at the moment, the instant it tries to move from wherever it might be hiding, we will know it.”

She nodded her head. “There is the distinct possibility, too, that lacking the soul-anchors, unless it can possess something soon, it will just fade away, anyway.”

The Unspeakable nodded a third time. “I believe that Tom Marvolo Riddle, also called the Dark Lord and Lord Voldemort, is no more.”

It was her turn to nod, as did the Headmaster.

“I agree,” Dumbledore said. He smiled at Harry. “A job well done, my boy. The prophecy is fulfilled. Tom Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort, has been vanquished by your hand.”

Harry wasn’t so sure, but let himself be reassured. He smiled up at his mother. She was still worrying her lower lip and looking around the room with narrowed eyes. He could tell she wasn’t nearly as confident as the Headmaster. She slowly turned and headed for the exit. Harry followed her off the dais.

The Untouchables wandered around the room and continued casting spells.

“Princess Sparkle, Mr. Potter,” Miss Bones said as they approached. “I don’t believe either of you have visited the Ministry before. Would you like a tour?”

“That is an excellent idea!” said Dumbledore. “Twilight was here, briefly, regarding Mr. Sirius, but she didn’t see much more than a quick glance.”

Harry sighed heavily. Wizards. Can’t live with them, can’t live without . . . well, actually, he could live without them. Much as he might want to hex them . . . he was a good pony. He glanced up at his mum and smiled.

That took care of the rest of the morning. While superficially interesting, after the fourth office that looked exactly the same as the others, Harry was ready to go home. Unfortunately, as Twilight had told Harry before they had left Equestria, part of the mission for the day was to make a production out of showing that Harry was not leaving the witching world. As a result, he was introduced to every department head and given a tour of each department. Somewhere along the line, a photographer had appeared. Every Department Head, and every self-important employee who could brow-beat his supervisor, had his or her own personal photograph with Headmaster Dumbledore, Twilight, and Harry. The only bright spot was meeting with Mr. Weasley.

The wizard was in a bit of a rush, though. He was still settling into his promotion from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office to The Improper Use of Magic Office. With the Equestrians on the scene, the decrees on the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy were going to get quite the workout. No to mention that the department not only had a bigger staff, but had also been given a sizeable increase in budget, too.

Unfortunately, Mr. Weasley was an easy-going manager. Even the janitor succeeded in sweet-talking Arthur into letting him get his picture taken with the famous Boy-Who-Lived.

Before they were halfway done, Harry could feel his hand twitching to pull his wand from its holster. He was getting a headache from resisting the temptation. That, and his face was hurting from all the smiling.

On the other hoof, the lower-level employees were always so grateful he felt like a fraud. He really hadn’t done anything. It had been his parents. He was starting to feel a bit resentful about the whole thing. Stupid wizards.

Minister Fudge, and his Undersecretary, the “pink blob” as Harry dubbed her, were not pleased at being left to the last. However, Mrs. Bones pointed out that portly wizard had far better things to do with his time than act as a tour guide. He was somewhat mollified when she told him that the photo of him with Harry Potter, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Princess Sparkle would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Harry didn’t like being a political toy. However, the Princesses had given him the illusion that he could say no, and that they wouldn’t bring up the subject again if he did. As if.

Harry thought he had met every employee in the Ministry by the time they left. On the other hand, he’d never have to go through that again.

Twilight and Harry returned to a very quiet Weasley residence. Molly was in the kitchen, preparing lunch for her brood. The twins, she explained, were in their new building opposite Arthur’s work shed. They spent most of their time working in their new laboratory and supervising their two employees. The employees were fulfilling the many orders for their products in the witching world, while they worked on perfecting the processes for mass-producing Sweetie Belle’s other innovative “discoveries.”

Percy had locked himself in his room. Based on his ink-stained fingers, he was apparently writing the next bestseller novel. Ginny was stretching her wings by the family’ Quidditch half-pitch. Ron was in the orchard exploring his new “green” magic abilities.

After greeting Mrs. Weasley, Twilight declined her invitation for lunch and popped off to the embassy. While her schedule had allocated enough time for the trip to the Ministry, that hadn’t prevented a backlog of work piling up for her in her office there.

Harry looked around the sitting-room. He had been with his family in Equestria for the last several weeks, and hadn’t visited the Weasleys since Easter. The room looked quite spiffy, he had to admit. The shabby and worn furniture had been replaced with new. The walls, ceiling, and floor had been given a good once-over, as well. The new wallpaper and rugs made the room bright and cheerful, and the fireplace fairly gleamed. The twins new income had gone a long way to improving their lives, he could see. Ron would no longer have to make do with hand-me-downs. For anything.

Of course, that didn’t include the few gemstones the fillies had shown the Weasley brood how to collect when they were visiting Equestria earlier that summer. Ron, himself, had a sizeable nest-egg as a result.

Well, he decided, he might as well take a look outside and track down Ginny. He hadn’t seen her in several days. She was one reason Twilight had suggested visiting the Weasleys. The other was, of course, so he wouldn’t be underhoof, as Twilight put it, while a birthday party was prepared for tomorrow. It left him feeling quite strange to know that someone was preparing a birthday party for him.

It was while he was headed for the Quidditch pitch that a house-elf popped up in front of him. For a moment, they eyed each other. The creature was barely as tall as his waist, had large, bat-like ears, and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. It abruptly bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet of grass that covered the ground. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.

Author's Notes:

Welp, here it is. Hope you like it.

Ch. 02. Party Time!

“Ehh . . . hello?” Harry said cautiously to the strange creature before him.

“Harry Potter!” the being cried in a high-pitched voice. “Long, so long, has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir . . . Such an honour it is . . ..”

Harry narrowed his eyes. Another rabid fan? “And you are?” he prompted warily, his wand sliding into his hand from its holster. Weren’t the spells on the Weasley homestead set to only allow friends to pop in?

“Dobby, sir,” said the house-elf.

Harry nodded. “And what can I do for you?” he asked cautiously.

The creature stared at him, stunned. “Do for . . . me!?” he cried. “Never . . . never ever . . . has . . . anyone . . ..” The elf burst into tears, bawling loudly.

Harry sighed. Dobby was worse than any of the fangirls, or fanboys, he had met at Hogwarts. They usually just blushed bright-red and ran away. This was going to take a while. Unfortunately, the tree-leaves hid him from the sky, so Ginny wouldn’t be able to spot and rescue him. He sighed and dropped down to sit cross-legged on the ground.

“Please, sit down,” said Harry politely.

The elf choked and sobbed even more. “Never . . . never has a wizard asked Dobby, lowly Dobby, to sit down . . . like an equal . . ..”

Harry sighed. Knowing wizards and witches, he could easily believe that was true. He patiently waited. With a twist of his wrist and a flex of his fingers, the wand shot back into the holster.

Dobby managed to calm himself as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. He sat hiccoughing, with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration. He took a deep breath. “Dobby must tell you, sir . . . it is hard, sir . . . Dobby doesn’t know where to begin . . ..”

“The beginning is always best, my mum tells me,” Harry said dryly.

Dobby shook his head slowly. Suddenly, he jumped up and started banging his head furiously on a nearby tree, shouting, “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”

“Stop! Stop that! What are you doing?” Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back.

The elf was slightly cross-eyed, and staggered a bit. “Dobby has to punish himself, sir. Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir . . ..”

“Your family?” Harry said suspiciously, scowling, not liking how the elf seemed to regard his “family.” Or his duty to that family.

“Dobby serves a family, sir. . . . Dobby is a house-elf . . . bound to serve that family forever . . ..”

“Do they know you’re here?” asked Harry carefully.

The house-elf shuddered and looked at him, horrified. “No, sir, oh, no . . . Dobby will punish himself most grievously, most grievously, indeed, for being here, sir. Dobby will have to slam the oven door on his ears for this. If they knew, sir . . ..” He shuddered again.

Harry frowned, puzzled, “But . . . won’t they notice if you do that?”

He shook his head sadly. “Dobby doubts it, sir,” the house-elf responded frankly. “Dobby always has to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me . . ..”

Harry shook his head angrily. He knew that house-elves were trapped in a symbiotic relationship with their families. The only way a house-elf could leave would be if the family wanted him or her to leave. Fortunately, only the family-head could dismiss an elf by giving them clothes, so an angry child couldn’t dismiss the family elf in a fit of pique. Unfortunately, though, a few families took advantage of that fact to mistreat the small servants.

His mum and the Princesses took great care that their elves were well-treated, as they should be. The only disagreements were in preventing the little housekeepers from going overboard and tackling too much work.

For a house-elf to disobey his family was almost impossible. Dobby’s family’s treatment of him must be extremely severe if he was willing to suffer more abuse from them by going against their desires. Only a very mentally unstable elf would act against his own family.

Eyeing the weeping elf, Harry knew this elf had to be severely unstable. It would be best to treat him as carefully as possible.

After living with the Dursleys, Harry could sympathize with the house-elf. Sometimes, Harry wasn’t so sure of his own mental health. Sometimes . . . sometimes he had difficulty remembering he was a good pony! Today’s venture into the Ministry had been a bit too stressful, he admitted to himself.

He sighed. “So, why are you here?” he asked rubbing his forehead.

Once more sitting, Dobby leaned forward, his eyes almost as big as lorry’s headlights.

“Dobby heard,” he whispered hoarsely, “that Harry Potter met the . . . the Dark Lord a second time . . . just weeks ago . . . that Harry Potter escaped, again.”

Harry nodded. “But my mum and Headmaster Dumbledore were also there,” he said. He shuddered as he remembered what had happened. “I almost didn’t survive,” he whispered reluctantly.

The house elf’s eyes shone with tears.

“Ah, sir,” he gasped. He wiped his face on the grimy pillowcase he wore. “Brave is Harry Potter! So many dangers has he already defied! But Dobby has come to Harry Potter, to protect him, and warn him! Even if Dobby shuts his ears in the oven door, later . . ..” He sat up straight and stared at Harry. “Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts,” he ordered.

Harry sat still for a moment as what the elf had said soaked into his mind. Then he laughed sardonically. “Not gonna happen,” he said, shaking his head. “The Princesses want me to go to Hogwarts, to Hogwarts I will go!” he said dutifully. He shrugged. “Besides, if Dumbledore let anything happen to me, mum would toss him in Tartarus!” He paused a second. “Or Celestia would banish him to the moon for a thousand years.” He grinned wryly. “Or mum would toss him into the dungeons and then Celestia would banish him to the moon.”

“No, no, no,” Dobby squeaked emphatically. His ears flapped like an elephant’s as he violently shook his head. “Harry Potter is too good, too great, to risk. Harry Potter must stay home! He will be in mortal danger at Hogwarts!” Dobby said in a dire tone.

“Mortal danger?” repeated Harry. Even with Voldemort at Hogwarts last year, it had been the safest Harry had ever been! Something had only tried to kill him two times in ten months. That would have been a record for Equestria. It couldn’t begin to compare to the regular beatings the Dursleys gave him.

“A plot, Harry Potter, there is a most deadly plot,” the house elf whispered conspiratorially. “Terrible things will happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year!” Dobby was trembling so greatly he almost fell over. “For months, sir, Dobby has known. Harry Potter is too important, sir. He must not go to Hogwarts!”

Immediately attentive, Harry asked, “What things? Who’s plotting them?” He stared at the house-elf angrily.

Dobby jumped up and ran headfirst into a tree, backed up, and did it again.

“Right! Right!” Harry cried, lunging forward as he once more grabbed the elf. “I get it, you can’t tell me. But why are you warning me?” Almost as soon as he said it, he knew. He slyly smiled. “This has to do with You-Know-Who, doesn’t it?”

Dobby turned to look at the tree, again.

“Wait! Just nod or shake your head,” he quickly said.

Slowly, Dobby nodded his head.

“Well, it can’t be too serious, then, can it? Just this morning I tossed the wraith that was Tom Riddle, You-Know-Who, Voldemort, through the Veil of Death in the Ministry,” Harry said confidently. “He’s all sorted!”

Dobby stared at him, wide-eyed, and whispered, “Harry Potter is truly great!”

Then he shuddered. “But, danger still bees at Hogwarts!”

Harry looked away for a moment and sighed deeply. “Dobby, I have to go the Hogwarts. Everyone wants me to go to Hogwarts . . . the Princesses, my mum, Headmaster Dumbledore, Minister Fudge. Even if I didn’t want to go to Hogwarts, they would make sure I did.” He shook his head. “No pony, or house-elf, can fight an entire world by himself.” He took a deep breath. “Besides, my herdmates will be there. I can’t . . . won’t . . . let them get hurt! Not to mention my friends. What kind of friend would I be if I left them to face the danger and never did anything to help them?” he asked reasonably.

“But, Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby’s voice was barely above a whisper. “There be powers that no decent wizard knows . . ..”

Dobby bounded up again, and dashed, head-first, into the tree.

Harry again tackled the crazed elf. “Sorry, Dobby, but I can’t abandon my herdmates and friends. I promise, promise, I’ll be extra careful. And I’ll tell both Dumbledore and my mum what you said.”

He held the elf at arms-length. “You’ve done what you set out to do, warned me! Now let me do what I have to do. Please?”

Dobby stared at him.

“Now, go back to your home. Don’t punish yourself over this, you haven’t done anything requiring punishment,” Harry said firmly. He let go of the house-elf.

Dobby looked at him uncertainly, then disappeared.

Harry sighed and stood up. He brushed his hand across the bottom of his trousers and started towards the Quidditch pitch. He would have to think carefully about what he would tell his herdmates. If he wasn’t careful, they would be all over this, trying to solve the mystery.

He carefully set it aside in his mind and waved at the pegasus practicing flying through the Quidditch hoops without touching them, snapping her wings closed at the last possible instant.

Ginny thoroughly enjoyed having Harry’s attention the rest of the afternoon and evening, even if Ron did insist that they play several of games of chess after dinner. Ginny sat beside him and held his hand. Between the two of them, they made Ron work for his victories.

Harry was slowly coming to terms with the concept that all five of his herd mates wanted to be herdmates. It still boggled his mind. Unfortunately, he had no idea of how to be a herdmate back. And he certainly didn’t want to do anything that they might misinterpret as meaning he didn’t like them.

However, holding hands seemed to be something they liked. And hugging.

But ponies always hugged each other, anyway, so how was that different between herdmates and others? Kissing — snogging they said here — seemed lots more complicated. Kissing on the cheek, like he did with his mum, was one thing. The full-on snogging he had seen in the Gryffindor common room, on the other hoof, made him uncomfortable.

What did they expect him to do? Or not to do?

Neville Longbottom’s birthday party on Thursday was the day before his, and was scheduled to last from just after lunch until just before dinner. Cake and ice cream would be in the middle of the afternoon so that the children could work off that extra sugar energy before dinner.

Unfortunately, the afternoon party at the Longbottom estate was awkward. Harry made his normal, humiliating floo entrance by sliding across the marble floor as a unicorn, and barely missed knocking Neville down. Why he had turned into a unicorn, he wasn’t sure. His four hooves weren’t any more effective at slowing him down than sliding on his trousers would have been.

Neville, who had never seen Harry use the floo, stared wide-eye and incredulous, then burst out laughing. His grandmother, Madam Longbottom, kept her amusement to a smile as he changed back to a person, blushing deeply. She welcomed Harry warmly as his herdmates arrived in a more dignified manner. Neville escorted them to the ballroom hosting the party, where they dropped off their presents at the table reserved for that.

It was supposed to be Neville’s twelfth birthday party. Regrettably, he spent most of the time in the beginning just introducing Harry to his guests’ parents. From Ginny’s and Hermione’s reactions, Harry got the impression that parents didn’t usually stay during children’s parties. Poor Neville. Side-lined on his own birthday for politics.

On top of yesterday, Harry had to struggle to keep his temper in check and present the happy-child appearance they all craved to see.

The kids, of course, all knew Harry, but for most parents this was the first chance they had ever had to meet the famous boy. And they were making the most of the opportunity to say a few words to the little wizard. And to check out the five — five! — girls shadowing him and alternating holding his hands.

Every parent’s attention drawn to the fact that Harry was here, enjoying a party with his wizard and witch friends, and not squirreled away in Equestria. Ginny and Hermione were quick to point out that Harry planned his birthday party for tomorrow at the Weasleys. It was, however, restricted to just close friends.

The parents understood that that party would be for Harry and Neville, to make up for the political nature of this one.

His mum had convinced him that this would be the perfect semi-public manner in which to broadcast the message that Harry Potter was not available. It was only thing that made the party bearable to Harry. His herdmates were more than happy to fulfil her request to be extra demonstrative, and Harry wasn’t about to discourage them. Plus, it was fun.

The adults’ fleeting disappointed looks whenever one or two of the girls hugged or kissed him, and he hugged and kissed back, showed that the strategy was working. Maybe it would keep some of the upper-year girls from making a nuisance of themselves, at their parents’ requests.

That wasn’t the only goal, of course. This affair had been painstakingly orchestrated by the Equestrian Princesses and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore — who was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Every detail had been thoroughly planned ahead of time. It was all a demonstration to the wizards and witches that Harry was very involved with the United Kingdom’s magical world. They didn’t even want to hint that Harry considered Equestria his home and that he would be glad to be shot of the magical world once he left Hogwarts.

That his mum, Princess Sparkle, also attended the party, drew a great deal of the adults’ attention, and there was a constant knot of wizards and witches around her, hanging on every word and asking questions about Equestria, or Atlantis, as they insisted on calling it.

There was even a photographer at the party, allegedly to take photographs of the Longbottom Heir enjoying his friends and the games they played at his party. The photographer, though, focused more on Harry and his mum than Neville. His Equestrian girlfriends, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom, with their outrageous hair, by witchery standards, were always just outside the framed shots. Harry, Ginny Weasley, the pure-blood witch, and Hermione Granger, the muggle-born new witch, on the other hand, were almost always in the shot. If nothing else, the two girls were in the background interacting with another student — usually the son or daughter of the adult Harry was meeting.

The party had almost every student from the first year, including Draco and his bunch. Fortunately, they were all on their best behaviour — their parents made sure of that. Still, Draco managed to let slip a few disgusted looks at the way the herd was fawning over Harry. He couldn’t hide the envy in his eyes at seeing them become ponies.

Naturally, none of the adults had had a chance, yet, to actually see the herd as their pony selves. As a result, the herd made a point of spending some of the party as ponies, to the non-students’ delight.

Harry had managed to talk his mum into inviting the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which served as a bit of a distraction.

The parents watched, almost as gobsmacked as the students had been in Hogwarts on the first day, last year. Their calculating expressions, when they thought none of the herd were watching, made them shiver — and not pleasantly. That some of those calculating looks were directed at Oliver Wood, the team Captain, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, the two Chasers, who were all happy to show off their Pegasus forms, was a relief. That Fred and George Weasley weren’t shy to show off the unicorn forms also helped.

Oliver even had the team members present put on a brief Pegasus Quidditch scramble for the crowd’s entertainment. More than a few adults would be pressing their children to approach the gifted witches and wizards.

Ron, while not as spectacular as a unicorn or Pegasus in his pony form, was happy to show off his “growing” skills on a vase of flowers. He, too, would find himself the target of a few admirers, Harry knew. From what his mum had told him, the non-herd member’s animagus abilities made them into hot commodities. Daphne Greengrass seemed especially interested.

Ron looked lost when surrounded by girls, and perpetually red-faced — sometimes almost matching his hair in shade.

Harry’s mum and the Princesses had thought the adults might not get the message that the herd were a unit and couldn’t be split up. They had planned accordingly. So it was that she casually let drop that the incoming class for this year at Hogwarts was going to have more than a few Equestrian students. She didn’t mention a number, but said it would be a dozen or two. She added, as an after-thought, that the Princesses were planning on doing that for the foreseeable future. This new magic, and what the witches had done with it, was just soo interesting.

The adults that heard, quickly spread the news. Groups of adults quickly formed and the calculating looks seemed friendlier, now, somehow.

The fillies and girls were just as disgusted with the way the adults were acting as Harry and Neville. Of course, there wasn’t anything they could actually do about it, though, except grin and bear it. Hermione managed to ignore it the best with by disappearing into the Longbottom Library for an hour before the herd noticed her absence, hunted her down, and dragged her out again.

It was far worse than the Grand Galloping Galas for all the attention Harry garnered, and at the expense of his friend. Harry had no doubt that if he had been older, he would have been in for a Grand Ball reception, just like the ones in Equestria. Fortunately, the witches and wizards seemed to think a birthday party would be more appropriate for the ages of the kids. If Neville had been in Equestria, he would have been at a Grand Ball for introduction to society. Here, that was put off for another three years.

Neville didn’t seem to mind not being in the limelight. In fact, he seemed quite relieved at not being the centre of attention.

During one quiet moment as they were setting up for the opening of the presents — Harry had to be sitting beside Neville for this, his mum had insisted the day before — Neville whispered, “I don’t know how you do it. I’d be terrified of tripping or making a mistake.”

“You think I’m not?” Harry whispered back, looking at him with wide-eyes.

Neville gave him a look, then whispered, “Better you than me.” Then he looked around and sighed. Noblesse oblige.

After the presents, and cake, came more games.

Eventually, Harry was relieved to see, people started collecting their children and leaving. Naturally, every parent had to say their farewells to Harry as well as Neville. Which meant he and the girls were the last to leave.

Before they left, however, Harry made a quick trip to one of the bathrooms. He just knew that floo trip on full, or even just half-full, bladder could only end in an embarrassing disaster for him.

He was just washing his hands when someone else came in. He was tall, but otherwise rather non-descript. “Did you have a fun time?” he asked.

Harry gave the standard, “It was great!”

The stranger nodded, and looked into the mirror as he twirled his long, thin, moustache. “Right,” he said sceptically, and smirked.

Harry glanced back into the mirror and froze. Standing beside him was Discord. He was afraid to look directly.

Mirror-Discord gave him a very wide grin. “Sometimes,” he said in Pinkie Pie’s voice, “Subtlety can lead to far more entertainment than an outright prank.” His grin grew wider. “Can you imagine a cuter couple than Diamond Tiara and Draco Malfoy?”

Harry frantically tried to remember if he had seen that tall stranger talking to any of the adult wizards or witches at the party. As Harry stared at him in horror, he slowly dissolved into a white mist and disappeared.

His mum was not pleased when he whispered his encounter to her. She told him to tell the Weasleys that something had come up and she had an important emergency meeting in Canterlot.

He was exhausted by the time he made it back to The Burrow. After dinner, they made their way outside. Ron took great pride in showing Apple Bloom what he had managed in the orchard so far that summer while the others took to the pond for swimming.

After a late dinner, to compensate for all the cake and ice-cream at the party, the girls retired to their trunk-room while Harry bunked with Ron. It was an early bedtime.

This year, for the first time, ever, Harry James Sparkle-Potter had a birthday party on Earth — excepting that his parents had probably given him one when he was only a year old. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord Voldemort had killed them before his parents could give him a second birthday party.

Unhappily, his remaining relatives had always said, “freaks like you don’t deserve birthday parties.” So, he had only watched enviously as his cousin was outrageously feted to the excess on his birthday — and his cousin wasn’t shy about demonstrating to Harry how much better he had it than the orphan.

Which meant Harry’s party in Equestria when he turned ten, two years ago, had been the first in his memory. It was too bad that he had been far too insecure at the time to enjoy the party. He had kept expecting the “gotcha” that the Dursleys had taught him to expect. He had been hesitant to accept a good occasion as anything but a trap to hurt him, whether physically or psychologically. Plus, everything about Equestria was still new to him.

His second had been much more enjoyable, even if it had been overshadowed by his mum’s disappointment over him concealing the existence of the Portal to Earth. The letter from Hogwarts had also confused the occasion.

This year, his birthday party in Equestria was a full-blown Pinkie Pie party celebration. It took place around lunch time. Half the town, it seemed, had shown up, including everypony from the Ponyville primary school. Or, rather, everypony he had known before all the new ponies had moved into town. The Portal, and its implications and realities, had swelled the population, doubling in the time he had spent at Hogwarts. The town was still quickly growing, becoming an important centre for commerce, technology, and magic.

Trains were no longer twice a day, but once an hour.

The floo-technology ameliorated that growth, somewhat. It allowed instant transportation across the entire continent of Equestria. Otherwise, the town would have been ten-times as big. However, the floo system, while growing by leaps and bounds, was still far too limited in scope to reach everywhere it was needed. As a result, many important ponies felt that their companies, educational facilities, or research firms required a physical presence, as well. Plus, floo-powder was still in short supply and sharply rationed.

At the party, the fillies and colts, and a quite a few mares and stallions, were all agog at the rings the five fillies wore — although on this side of the portal they were bracelets. Harry’s constant proclamations that the magical bracelets were to keep his filly friends safe merely enhanced the looks of awe. Usually, it was the fillies getting gifts for their colts when things were serious. That they were magical, too, simply increased their importance as gifts. Harry, wisely, did not mention he had given other rings to his Gryffindor roommates and a few select other individuals at school.

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were almost green with envy — literally. He wondered if next year they both might show up at Hogwarts. He shuddered, remembering Discord’s remark. Even being two years behind Harry and the CMC, the rewards of being versed in this new magic were just too great.

Most of the older fillies were sad that Harry had a herd. On the other hoof, that he had removed so many fillies from the stallion competition was a pleasant thought to them. They were quite interested to hear that the ratio of mares-to-stallions on the other side of the portal was one-to-one. He had to wonder, though, how many humans would be willing to move to Equestria and live as ponies. Or vice versa for the fillies and mares.

He had to admit, he was perfectly willing to stay a pony or a person if his herd wanted. But the average person or pony? He couldn’t see Malfoy, Zabini, Parkinson, or Greengrass being anything but disgusted at the idea. And the same was true in reverse for Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Just from how his herdmates had reacted to the food and attitudes in the wizarding world, few ponies would be willing to abandon Equestria. But . . . Discord.

Although, now that he thought about it, the plenitude of magical gems in Equestria meant any such herds would have the financial ability to split their time between both worlds without too much strain.

The Weasley children, with Arthur and Molly making a brief appearance, all attended the Equestrian party. As did a few close friends from Hogwarts. The boys were more than a little bit overwhelmed by the attention they received from the fillies at the party. That the fillies and young mares here were so forward left them more than a bit skittish. Watching their reactions gave Harry quite a few laughs — even as he realized he had reacted almost the same in his first year here.

The girls from the Gryffindor Quidditch team were wide-eyed at the competition that lined up for the older boys on the team. Oliver was in second heaven for the attention he received from the Pegasi and spent almost the entire party discussing quidditch. Which was rapidly becoming a major topic among the pegasi.

Harry thought that if Wood wasn’t careful, he might have a Quidditch team of herdmates.

Everyone was interested in what he and the cutie mark crusaders had been up to. His confirming the rumours of an entire herd of centaurs beside the school had every colt and filly shuddering, as well as a few adults — the Flower sisters fainted. His mum’s assurances that the centaurs on the other side of the portal were friendly and eschewed the use of magic only partly calmed them down.

Hopefully, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, now that they had cutie marks, wouldn’t cause too much destruction trying to see if they could get a witch a cutie mark when they returned to Hogwarts.

Finally having cutie marks had made for an oddly quiet summer for the herd, and Ponyville. On the other hoof, long-time Ponyville residents still headed for cover when they saw them coming, to the bewilderment of the newest residents.

Still, he had great fun at the party as did everypony else. Of course, that depended on your definition of fun. Hermione spent most of the party interrogating the older unicorns on what interesting spells they might know. She was amazed to learn that most used magic on an instinctual level and actually knew fewer specific spells than she did.

Meanwhile, the ponies spent most of their time interrogating Harry’s herd and the visitors from Earth what they knew about magic. Seeing pegasi and earth ponies casting spells was, well, spell-binding. Next year’s crop of volunteer’s for Hogwarts might be quite a bit bigger.

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were inordinately interested, Harry realized.

Then it was back through the portal. It was time for more of the “let’s show the witches and wizards that Harry Potter hasn’t left England for Equestria” tour, Harry sourly thought.

Ch. 03. Changelings Abroad!

After the party in Equestria, Harry headed for the Portal Station. He would be staying with the Weasleys. Twilight and the Element Bearers had business in Canterlot, and so wouldn’t be around to chaperone him at the house in Little Whinging.

To his surprise, his herdmates went with him. He had thought it was only going to be him. It wouldn’t be a problem, though, they still had their apartment trunks at both the Embassy and Weasley Orchard locations. He was sure the five would end up split between Ginny’s improved room at The Burrow and the trunk left there.

Harry was more than a little startled by the surprise party Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had put together for him when they arrived late that afternoon at the Weasley farmhouse. The party included his friends from Hogwarts; Neville was much more relaxed than he had been at his own party. So was Harry. No surprises there! The Gryffindor Quidditch team, all the Firsties from Gryffindor, plus a few from the other Houses, including Elly de Rippe, were in attendance.

Elly, Harry noted, seemed especially shy about being at the party. It was as if she had no idea what to expect at a party. Hadn’t her family given her birthday parties? Even at his first birthday party in Equestria he sort of knew what to expect. He had, after all, had to listen to Dudley’s parties while he was locked in his cupboard under the stairs. She acted like it was all foreign to her.

How the Weasleys had convinced her to attend, he wasn’t sure. He was glad they did, however, he still owed her for indirectly saving him last term.

She still puzzled Harry. She had declined all his invitations to visit Equestria, saying she didn’t want to impose. As wonderful as it sounded on the other side of the Portal, she had written, he had invited a lot of people. She didn’t want to distract him from his friends. Moreover, she had her family estate to learn to run, and most of her holiday time was taken with tutors and her Aunt for that. “Perhaps next summer?” she suggested at the party when he again invited her.

He was just glad she didn’t expect to be another of his herdmates! Keeping the five he had happy would be hard enough.

Still, she never strayed that far from Harry, or the fillies, while at the party. In fact, she seemed to spend more of her time around the Equestrian fillies than Harry, Ginny, or Hermione.

The party lasted until shortly after an early dinner, with swimming, a low-speed Quidditch, and several other games. A few of the finished prank candies from the twins were demonstrated, to great laughter. That a good time was had by all seemed to be the popular opinion as they left via the floo that evening.

Elly seemed both grateful to have been at the party, but oddly relieved, when she finally went home. Perhaps the party had been a bit too much? She seemed especially drowsy as she flooed out.

After two parties that day, one in Equestria and the other at the Weasleys, the younger kids were all exhausted and off to an early bed. Harry again bunked with Ron while the girls all retired to the trunk in Ginny’s room.

At loose ends until their letters for the coming year arrived, the seven of them planned to spend the following weeks exploring Ottery St Catchpole. Which, Harry had been told that morning, was in Devon, England. It had a small church, grocery, paper shop, garage, guest house, house-and-garden supply shop, school, and, of course, several pubs. The twins apparently quite liked the girl in the paper shop.

Besides the Weasleys, there were three other witching families in the village. There was the soon to be Fifth-year, Cedric Diggory and his parents, the soon to be Fifth-year, Sally Fawcett and her parents, and the soon to be First-year Luna Lovegood and her father, Xenophilius. Xenophilius published The Quibbler, a newsparchment.

The Lovegood’s, and their residence, were just as bizarre as the newsparchment the family printed. The house resembled a giant chess-piece, a rook. Mr. Lovegood himself dressed in robes almost as outrageous and eye-watering as those presented by Headmaster Dumbledore. His robes, though, seemed themed on chess-pieces and mystery symbols.

Luna appeared as odd as her father, and talked about creatures that no one else seemed to know anything about in a dreamy, not-quite-there voice. But she was a fun person to be around, Harry discovered.

In mid-August, the seven werewolf volunteers Remus had managed to convince went through the portal at one-hour intervals starting at noon. All seven collapsed and went into convulsions moments after crossing the Portal, as expected. The waiting medical teams immediately rushed them to quarantine and made them as comfortable as possible.

Remus, after checking with the hospital ponies and wizards, reported to the Ministry, where he planned to spend the night in one of the Auror holding-cells — he brought along a book and playing cards. The cards were in the hope he could convince the guards into playing a game of poker. He ended up losing about ten galleons, but he considered it money well-spent to have them so eagerly recount how they had taken the former werewolf’s money during a full moon.

As Remus had done the previous month, the werewolf volunteers convulsed as soon as Luna’s moon crested the horizon. Then, after leaving the moon up for an hour, Luna retired it for the night. The moon had been up that long for Remus because it had taken them time to get the message to her about what was happening at the Portal Hospital. They might experiment with the exposure time at a later date, but they didn’t want to take any chances this time.

The next morning, when they checked, they discovered the process had worked. Transiting the portal as much as eight hours before experiencing a full-moon-rise that night was a cure for the werewolf curse. The volunteers, all long-time veterans of the curse, were in tears of happiness at seeing the results of the werewolf-curse testing spells. Two of the women promised to have his children, if he wanted.

The ponies wanted to be sure, and insisted that the former were-wolves wait until the next day to return home to spread the good news.

The Ministry reluctantly gave Remus an official letter declaring that, because they had watched him all night on a full-moon night and performed numerous magical checks, he was not a werewolf.

The party that night at Grimmauld Place almost took the walls down. No one under that age or eighteen was allowed in the doors. Headache cures were required by all the next morning. Several new couples emerged, as well.

An overnight stay in a Ministry holding cell, with periodic magical checks would be the procedure for all wizards and witches who wanted to prove they weren’t werewolves the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement decided. If they didn’t transform or show any other symptoms, they would receive a certification letter declaring them as having proved they weren’t a werewolf. There would be a fee, of course, the Ministry had to pay for the overtime for the aurors, right?

Fortunately, for the normally destitute werewolves, Sirius was more than happy to setup a fund with the goblins to make sure no one was denied the opportunity. He even awarded the cured werewolves a hundred galleon present to help them get established. And a party in Grimmauld Place to celebrate their new status.

Only a few in the Ministry objected to the situation. They were miserable diehard conservatives who felt the werewolves should be eliminated instead of cured. Fortunately, pointing out to the Minister that every cured werewolf meant additional income to the Ministry in fees and taxes helped push through the certification process.

For the first time, there was a complete cure available. It was painful, but no more so than the transformation itself, all the subjects had reported.

Word of that had raced through the hidden community of werewolves. Many still didn’t believe it, but many more were willing to try. The Portal Hospital ended up booked up for the next several months on the nights of the full-moon. Rather than just one night, as it was on Earth, Luna had consented to making a full-moon rise on three consecutive nights. That way the newly cured could see for themselves it had worked for them before they went home. And it gave the hospital an additional day to process patients.

Many of the “cured” opted to remain in Equestria for a time.

To Harry’s amusement, all of the cured werewolves now had a unicorn as their animagus form. They had gone from pure predator to very dangerous prey! Such irony.

It was a quiet night — or very early morning, take your pick — at the Ponyville Sweet Apple Acres Portal Station. The unicorn sergeant looked up from her paperwork as the three changelings walked into the check-in office. The Station, at the edge of the Everfree forest, rarely received any visitors, official or otherwise, this late at night. The last time had been a full-blown Princess-declared emergency, and hundreds of Guard ponies had trooped through at near gallops — with a truly impressive array of new equipment, some not out of the experimental stage.

She raised an eyebrow inquisitively at them as she almost unobtrusively slid a report, the latest update about traffic through the portal, over her copy of Playfilly.

Preoccupied at the sudden appearance of visitors, and hiding her magazine, she didn’t notice the almost invisible flash from the stolen wand as it cast a slight confundus on the sergeant. Of course, that it came from under one of the three unicorns instead of one of their horns, as a pony would normally expect, helped to hide it. In any event, she would now be inclined believe whatever they said to her.

After staring at them dully for a moment, she blinked once and asked, “What can I do for you?” as she pressed the button on the floor for assistance.

The lead unicorn, a light green with a light blue mane and tail lifted a paper out of her saddlebags and sent it to the sergeant. It was a short note, just a request that the Doctors Pony, Bones, and Balls travel through the Portal to the Little Whinging Embassy as soon as possible.

The soldier frowned as she glanced at the clock. It was nearly two, one-forty-seven to be exact. Both the portal and the Embassy were usually almost deserted at this time, although attendants were always present at the entrances to both.

The door to the left of the three ponies opened and a unicorn Guard came through. He stepped to the side to watch the three visitors, keeping the sergeant out of his line of fire, as he closed the door. He wore one of the new saddle-mounted rifle systems with barrels on both sides and automatic ammunition feeds. A spark shot from his horn to the sergeant, who didn’t even look at the newcomer as she sent a spark back.

“The letter arrived while I was having dinner,” said the light-green unicorn. “I gathered Doctors Balls,” she nodded at the amber stallion, with a dark-blue mane and crossed bones as a cutie mark, “and Pony,” a pale-blue unicorn with two-tone red mane, “and came here as fast as we could. Even with that new floo travel, it took a bit of time,” she finished.

Hidden by the other two unicorns, the wand underneath the stallion flashed a second time, and the second unicorn was hit with a confundus.

The sergeant sighed and pursed her lips. Without warning, a spark shot from her horn to each of the three ponies. They had expected that — the spark was a spell to reveal a disguised changeling. Even though they knew the spell would pass them, they couldn’t stop their reflexive stiffening.

The Guard pony smiled ruefully at their reactions. “Sorry about that, but it’s what we have to do now.”

Doctor Bones nodded genially. “Yes, we know. We get those every day. Still a surprise, though. I imagine it will be a few more months before that becomes an ignored feature of conversation for unicorns.

“I assure you,” the stallion said, firmly, lifting his muzzle arrogantly, “that we are not illusioned, either! So, you don’t need to do that.”

The sergeant blinked at the unusual declaration, paused, and nodded sagely. The unicorn with saddle-mounted rifles blinked, frowned bemusedly, then returned to his attentive stare.

Three sheets flew out of a basket on sergeant’s desk, and she quickly noted their names, descriptions, and cutie marks on them. Doctor Bones’ cutie mark was two crossed bones. Thigh bones from the look. From the sergeant’s expression, Doctor Balls’ cutie mark clearly left him mystified — how did a trio of a foal’s multi-coloured balls lead to becoming a doctor? Doctor Pony’s cutie mark was scary, a patchwork pony doll with a scalpel over it. She kept looking from it to the Doctor’s face. The three could see her trying to figure out how a filly got that as a cutie mark! And if she should be worried about it.

After she finished writing, she took pictures of the cutie marks. She attached the Polaroids to the papers while grinning at the three doctors, “Gotta love those new cameras from Earth! Instant pictures without magic,” she declared, and shook her head wonderingly. She lifted three green badges from a drawer, carefully wrote their names on the badges, attached them to lanyards, and held them out in her magic to the three doctors. They each put on their lanyard.

Then she stared at their letter a moment. Without a sound, a copy appeared, which she then clipped to the pictures and the other documents. She dropped them all into a basket on her desk.

The stallion stifled his desire to sigh in relief. It had taken them three months to acquire the right paper, discover the right letterhead, the right seal, and the proper written mannerisms of the purported sender. Their forgery had passed the first, and most important, inspection.

“We have to check for contraband,” the sergeant explained as she floated the letter back to Doctor Pony. “Please step into the next room.” The unicorn standing beside the open door to the interior of the building, smiled pleasantly as the two mares and stallion walked into the next room. He closed the door behind them, leaving the sergeant alone, once more, on a dull night.

Inside the room were two more ponies, a pegasus and an earth pony. They also were wearing rifle saddles. The earth pony stood in front of the closed exit from the room where he had all three unicorns in clear sight. The pegasus hovered near the ceiling beside the entrance and above the end of the long table that divided the room. The door behind the table was closed.

The three Guards were positioned so that none were in the others’ line of fire.

“Please place your saddlebags on the table and empty them,” the unicorn said as he walked behind the counter, closing the hinged counter door.

The changelings had expected this. It was still more than a bit terrifying, knowing that they had little to no way of escaping if things went wrong.

The doctors were quick to respond. All three had a tied bundle of instruments specific to their profession. As professionals, they were expected to carry such, as well as a few appropriate medicines and bandages in their bags. Doctor Bones even had a small bottle of the new Skele-Grow. In addition, they each had a bag of about a hundred bits and several gem stones varying from tiny to hoof-size. There were no clothes, of course. Nothing they owned would fit on the other side of the portal.

The Guard behind the table sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said regretfully, “but we can’t let you take bits or loose gems with you through the portal. We will credit your bits to the Embassy. You may withdraw their equivalent value, as you need, in the local currency. The gems will be kept in a safe-deposit box until you return.” He noted their names from the lanyards and wrote them on six small boxes he pulled from below the counter. For each doctor, the gems went into one box and the coins into the other.

He cast a targeted finite spell inside the bags, then felt around inside each to make sure it was empty, and that there were no hidden Undetectable Expansion Charms or notice-me-nots in use.

Doctor Balls hid his smile. They had known this was the procedure. By providing the ponies with obvious “contraband,” the ponies wouldn’t expect any more. Not wearing clothes also made it “obvious” they weren’t trying to hide gems. The normal body-scan for contraband wouldn’t detect the gems they had taped inside the holes in their legs, as, technically, they weren’t inside their bodies. That was the problem with tailored spells, they were rather restricted in what they could do.

It took only a few more minutes before the three illusion-hidden changelings trotted out of the portal entrance building and down the path that led to the portal.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” said Fifty-six Emmie, formerly known as Worker Infiltrator Cadet 370,456ME, via their mind-link.

“Why wouldn’t it have?” said Earl, the one posing as the unicorn stallion, “You two worked hard enough for it.” Unlike the other two, he was a male. His designation was Drone URL370,456. “And I practiced that spell until I was dreaming of it!”

“Yeah, we know, we saw the dreams,” Emmie said dryly.

At the crèche in the hive, the entire group had been honoured to be one of the few with a drone in their crèche. That he, and the other permanent hive inhabitants, had accompanied the infiltrators and soldiers in the attack had been astonishing, to say the least. Queen-Mother had committed the entire ling population into the assault. There would be no returning to the hive.

No ling had been left in the hive, and the reservoirs of food had been emptied. The entire invasion was a do-or-die effort. Failure meant the likely extinction of the hive.

The rumour mill, whispered from ling-to-ling instead of in the mind-link, was that the hive was in crisis. The reservoirs were draining at a rate much faster than the infiltrators could replenish. A rate that had accelerated as the hive had grown larger in the years building up to the invasion. Soon, they would run out of food — and they were already on limited rations for non-essential lings. That was probably the reason why crèche 370,456 had been the last set of eggs laid. There would have been no ling left behind to take care of the eggs or nymphs.

Usually, as one crèche reached cadet-age, the next set of eggs were laid and incubated. This time, however, there hadn’t been any eggs laid even when the cadets reached the end of their hive training and were ready for field-training. As a result, their crèche hadn’t been large enough to replace the lings lost through accidents, age, and protecting the hive over the last year.

Unfortunately, for Fifty-six Essie — Worker Infiltrator Cadet 370,456SE — and Fifty-six Emmie, drones like Earl were . . . well . . . useless outside the hive, as he well knew. He wasn’t even as mature, physically or mentally, as the workers despite being the same age, and he knew it. It would be several more years before he would be old enough to be presented to the queen as an adult, for her to trade to another hive. He hadn’t been trained for the warrior class, infiltrator class, harvester class, gatherer class, or any class, really. Why waste training resources on a ling that was just going to be given in trade to another hive, anyway?

He had had access to the hive mind, of course, but little to no reason to internalize any of it. Not to mention that there is a big difference between knowing something and being able to do it! Without training or regular use, knowledge is useless.

He was, by the infiltrators’ standards, simple and a bit slow.

And yet, he was the one who had come up with this idea when they realized their original plan was fatally flawed.

They had wanted to protect Earl until he reached maturity. Once he was an adult, they would have taken him to one of the other hives and offered to trade him to them in exchange for the other two to join the hive. If he were a mature drone, alone, the new hive would have eagerly accepted him at what amounted to no cost for them. The problem was with Emmie and Essie. Usually, workers were never traded between hives. Captured workers, if they hadn’t fought to the death, were quickly worked to that state.

With any luck, offering Earl would get them accepted as his personal slaves at the least, if the new hive wouldn’t accept them as second-tier workers. They wouldn’t have good jobs, but they would be alive. Which they all agreed was a better fate than trying to live by themselves without a hive behind them. Starvation and predation were very possible outcomes, otherwise.

Earl was happy to agree to this, as the two infiltrators had the skills to keep him alive for the years it would take for him reach that level. Skills he didn’t have, and only vaguely understood.

Fortunately, during the year and a half that they had wandered the fringes of Equestria, they had discovered that using him to negotiate a place in a new hive wouldn’t work. Queen-Mother’s attempt to conquer Canterlot, and Equestria, had not only failed, but had revealed the existence of changelings to the unsuspecting ponies. The drones and workers from their hive, they discovered, were considered contaminated with a defective decision-making process. How could a new hive have faith that any of the decisions made by former members of the Chrysalis hive were well-reasoned? As a result, the other hives had decided that any benefits a drone might bring were offset by being from a defective hive. There was the distinct possibility that their own decision making might be contaminated, if they accepted the drone.

Not to mention their reluctance to add to their hive’s population. The newly alerted ponies made gathering food much more difficult. In fact, the hives would have to reduce their populations over the next few decades, and going on short rations to weather the temporary difficulties of too many lings.

Sneaking past the new ling-detection spell was impossible! It worked by first detecting the active use of the disguise magic, then by forcing them back to their normal form. And the ponies had quickly deployed that spell everywhere! They had even started putting the spell on entrances to buildings, so even if there weren’t any unicorns around, say in an earth-pony farming village, a ling could still be caught.

They had despaired surviving.

Then, one night, Earl had said, “If it detects the disguise magic, then don’t use that. Use an illusion.”

To the other two’s amazement, their trial had worked!

But that came with its own drawbacks — they had to avoid touch at all costs. And with the ponies wanting to hug at a moment’s notice . . . it became quite a chore to acquire the love they needed, but not impossible. But at least they could travel in safety among the ponies.

Still, that was not a permanent solution. Someday, somewhere, they would be found out. Until then, though, they could haunt the parks, fairs, nightclubs, and other locations where ponies tended to crowd, and survive by remaining on the outskirts. Now, at least, they had a chance to come up with another solution.

It was at a foal’s party that they had heard the rumour of a portal to another world. Months passed as they reconnoitred the situation, leading them to this desperate bid at escape. If the numbers they had heard were accurate, they could safely disappear into a new world where none suspected their presence. A bit of careful shadowing of the few humans that made the trip to Ponyville had shown that there was a possibility of finding enough emotional food to survive.

“We’re not through yet, so pay attention!” ordered Essie.

While they were walking up the path, they were surreptitiously transferring the gems hidden in their leg holes into their saddlebags. They didn’t want to take a chance that going through the portal with those still in their legs might cause severe problems on the other side. They shouldn’t, but who knew for sure? The illusions on themselves, and the gems, helped mask what they were doing from the ponies they knew were watching them.

The second checkpoint was a bit easier to navigate. They were subjected, again, to the ling-detection spell. The third checkpoint was just as simple, and then they were trotting around the tree-portal on the spiral path. They took off their saddlebags and slipped on the simple robes at the portal, itself.

Then, it was on to a new world. And surviving in their new, bipedal forms.

The unicorn on duty on the other side had been warned to expect three doctors. When three very short people walked out of the portal, he was a little startled.

They had planned for this. They hadn’t known what they would look like on going through. Ponies became humans, but what happened with Changelings? They practiced for weeks being minotaurs, trolls, and gargoyles to familiarize themselves with different forms of bipedal locomotion. The body shapes were different, and each exerted its own influence on movement. They hoped that such practice wouldn’t leave them slow and clumsy when whatever they became, they became.

The unicorn immediately started to use his magic to help the three that had just come through stay upright. “Please remain calm, I’ll help you stand up.”

All three were playacting at being clumsier than they really were. They had told the Portal minders on the other side that they had been practicing bipedalism. They knew that that information would have been passed on to the minders on this side.

The unicorn was distracted and annoyed that they appeared to have lied about practicing walking. That their forms were also unexpected, merely added to his confusion.

Partially hidden by his sisters, Earl grabbed his wand from where it was stuck on his stomach. The moment he had it in hand, he cast a confundus at the unicorn, and took a quick look around.

They were lucky, there weren’t any other ponies in sight.

“Thank you for your help,” Earl said loudly, casting an illusion on himself, as did the other two, that he was an adult. There had been plenty of pictures on the Equestrian side of what humans looked like for him to cast something accurate. He used an illusion as they were unsure if the ponies on this side of the portal would use the ling-spell, and ruin their escape.

“As you can see, we’re fine,” he continued firmly. “Everything is the way it should be.” They were no longer pretending clumsiness. Slightly awkward, yes. Clumsy? No. “We can handle the dressing rooms by ourselves, no need to worry yourself about us.”

The unicorn nodded absent-mindedly, his magic stopping.

The lings quickly ducked into their respective dressing-rooms on either side of the central hall.

Fortunately, both rooms had several large posters demonstrating proper apparel for their respective sexes. Apparel which was stocked in the dressing-rooms. The posters changed with the seasons, obviously.

In short order, the three exited the rooms. They nodded to the unicorn Guard, who nodded back and smiled, then made a note on the paper on his desk. They made their way past him to the next, main room, where another unicorn gave them a look-over before nodding approvingly. He hit them with the ling-spell, of course, and asked to see their lanyards. He verified what they had said on the other side, examined their letter, then waved them onward.

The walk to the dome exit, and the walk to the embassy were much shorter than in Equestria. They did notice the heavily armed guards watching them closely.

They were hit with the ling-spell twice more before they entered the Embassy, itself.

Exiting the Embassy was easy. Once they passed the Guard Portal side entrance at the back, they headed for main entrance in the front. On one side of the door was a large map of Little Whinging, on the other was a map of London. They studied both carefully, taking their time. This close to the door, they could feel the presence of a ling-spell. Apparently, the doors were both the first and last defence of the Embassy, depending on which way you were going.

Then they merely went straight out the front doors! No fuss, no bother. Everyone assumed they knew what they were doing. The door’s ling-detection spell disturbed them no more than any of the others they had experienced. They didn’t even slow down.

They had made it.

They luxuriated in the feeling for a moment, then started down the street. They would find a dark alley and transform to birds. That would let them cover far more distance than any pony would expect.

Now, to see if they could survive on what love the humans provided — and if the magicals could supply more than the non-magicals. Fortunately, they had enough reserves for several weeks, at least.

Ch. 04. Digging In

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was quite looking forward to the coming school year. His scheme to get Harry Potter — the Boy-Who-Lived, Vanquisher of Voldemort, adopted child of Princess Sparkle of Equestria — to return to Hogwarts for a second year had worked like a charm. Pun intended. He grinned happily.

That he would be accompanied by thirty-nine additional students, not including his three “herd-mates,” was like having his cake and eating it, too! That there were only nine boys in the bunch was just icing layered on the proverbial cake. The additional ten unicorns, six pegasi, six earth-ponies, and a Zebrican who would accompany them to be teaching aides to the staff was like getting ice cream with hot fudge on top of the cake!

He wouldn’t have believed it possible to get that many new students and aides if not for the squibs he had contacted. All were acquaintances of Argus Filch, the school caretaker, or Arabella Figg, the squib woman he had had watching Harry at Privet Drive. He had relayed to them the Princesses’ offer of a job in a land where they could do magic. He had actually been surprised at the number of squibs who had enthusiastically responded! Apparently, those unfortunates kept a loose connection with each other via owl-post, or even muggle-post! It must be due to shared tragedy, he decided, the desire for someone who understood what they were going through.

Mr. Filch had taken his suggestion of a summer working-holiday there. That had worked a bit too well, however. He had had to convince the man to return! Emphasizing that he only had two more years before he could take a complete retirement after twenty-five years of service hadn’t completely persuaded the man. It had taken three letters — plus the promise of two assistants — before Argus had finally agreed.

The squib quite enjoyed flying under his own power, never having been able to get a broom to accommodate him. Not being singled out as the “different” one in a crowd was a unique experience for him, too, after his treatment by the students in Hogwarts.

The ponies had accepted and welcomed him as one of their own — someone lost who had finally returned to the herd. He was no longer an outsider. Even Mrs. Norris seemed to like it better; the two of them, he had said, had an even better rapport than before.

He had also mentioned being astonished at the number of mares who seemed interested in meeting him! Him! He had never had any girl or woman interested in him because of his squib status. In Equestria, they simply hadn’t cared.

But, in the end, he had been persuaded to return to Hogwarts for the next two school years until his full retirement. He would definitely be spending his summer hols in Equestria, though.

The Headmaster knew many of the old families had tried to track down their cast-out squibs, with varying degrees of success. Several of the neutral and light families had been successful in “re-establishing” those connections. He suspected that they hadn’t “lost” the connection as much as they had pretended to do so to their fellow wizards — to escape censure by other wizards.

The dark families had had the least success. Their tradition of killing the squibs or obliviating them had come back to hurt them. While a sad situation for the squibs, it did make it easier for Albus to act as a gateway to Equestria for their families. All the families wanted that family connection to Atlantis.

In any event, for the galleons the Headmaster had provided, the squib had returned a remarkable number of books about the place and its recorded history. Those were galleons well spent, in Dumbledore’s opinion, and a decent exchange for the future loss of his caretaker. Unhappily, though, there were many duties in the castle that required non-magical solutions — solutions that wizards tended to use magic for instead. Which led to problems as the assorted, layered magics conflicted with each other.

Should he consider hiring two muggle-borns’ parents as a replacement? Or, perhaps, a brother or sister? That way, he needn’t worry about his squib workers being poached by Equestria’s friendlier magical environment. Or their families offering them inducements to move there.

He would need to consult at length with Severus and Minerva, he decided.

He was most surprised to discover, on returning to his office from lunch, that there was a new door beside the gargoyle guarding his door. A quick look inside revealed the school map that had been on one wall of his office was now on an entire wall here — floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall. Opposite it were a table and four chairs facing the map. The wall behind the chairs was filled with filing cabinets that he recognized used to be in Filch’s office — they were used to hold reports and banned items.

Going to his office, he saw that the escalator steps were unchanged, and a smaller version of the school map still resided on one wall as it had been previously, he was relieved to see.

No longer would the prefects and professors have to use his office to watch for out-of-bound students at night — and he could still track people from his office.

How convenient.

He would have to reward the house-elves for their unusual initiative.

The three changelings were astounded at this new world they found themselves. They had managed to learn a lot about this new world by “casually” meeting pony workers in the local bars and restaurants in Ponyville. They even had acquired a few of the imported books, which had provided more information.

Still, there was always the bit of doubt about what they had heard. Surely, the ponies and books were exaggerating, right? The humans they had cautiously approached had to have been exaggerating a little bit, too. Who didn’t exaggerate the good things about their homes?

The sheer size of everything in London left them silent. London, alone, dwarfed the population of Equestria. Never mind how small that made the lings’ hive appear.

That size, however, worked in their favour. If it was difficult to find one ling in a hundred ponies, it became much more difficult to find one hiding among a thousand!

It was apparent that they could probably hide among the humans without too much of a struggle. The emotional food they could collect from locations like parks and restaurants, or replacing someone for a night, would barely suffice for their needs. Without the presence of a hive to back them, it would be a long slog before they were comfortable.

Which was why they had originally decided to explore the magical world.

Finding The Leaky Cauldron took a day — London was huge! But once they found it, they studied it for another day. There no signs that it was under surveillance, but their few contacts with the humans in Equestria led them to believe it probably was. They could feel the changeling detection spell on the street door to the pub when they walked close enough under illusions.

It was with some anxiety that they entered the pub on the fourth day. Earl went first while the other two followed at a greater distance. If he fell, they planned on seizing him with their magic and fleeing. When he came back out a moment later, they hurried in after him.

They closely watched the patrons arriving by floo as they stood to the side of the street door and pretended to discuss something. They soon established what they needed to do. They slowly headed for the back door by bar, and timed it so that they followed a witch into the small, walled space just in time to go through the gateway to the Alley.

It was a stunning dichotomy to the London they had just spent three days exploring. It was like a totally different society from a completely different time.

They barely managed to keep their faces straight as they slowly made their way down the street towards their objective. A giant white building that looked . . . off. Lines weren’t parallel to either each other, or the buildings around them. Watching the magic casually being wielded with wands was another shock.

But they had a mission. While they had gems that were valuable, they had no money for either this weird magical world or the more pedestrian world of London outside the pub. Hence, Gringotts.

The goblins in Gringotts were a surprise to the three changelings. The goblins their instructors had taught them about were not this advanced. Equestrian goblins were still in the tribal stage, in small and hidden enclaves. On the other hoof, nothing from the Equestrian side of the portal came close to degree of sophistication of human technology. The three refugees would have to be very careful.

But it was puzzling that the witches and wizards ignored so much of that technology. Didn’t they realize how much better everything would be if they blended magic and technology? Ignoring that technology almost put their society behind the Equestrians. Plus, while the witches here seemed to have a far, far, greater selection of spells, they didn’t seem to accomplish that much more than what the Equestrian unicorns had mastered.

But those few that did excel, were in areas the Equestrians had never dreamed existed! The floo and the expansion spells were incredible in their societal impact. Instant transport to almost anywhere! Storage space no longer a problem.

The impact of the non-magical devices was just as far reaching — telephones, television, and gunnery were going to revolutionize the Equestrians. With their new industrial base, no single other race on Equestria would dare to annoy the princesses! The lings had gotten out just barely in time. They shuddered to think how the other Hives would survive with those improvements in place among the ponies.

Plus, the three could not begin to imagine how deeply the introduction of those concepts and items would affect their old world.

After briefly examining the bank’s lobby, they headed for a goblin teller.

Essie started off. “Excuse me, we would like to exchange some gems for . . . galleons? And pounds?” She waited patiently for the goblin to respond.

After slowly finishing whatever it was he was doing, he looked up at her and said, “Well?”

She shrugged and started pulling the gems she had out of her clothes’ pockets and piling them on the desk. The other two quickly followed her lead.

The goblin watched expressionlessly until they finished. He picked up the largest gem and studied it closely with a magnifying loupe. He licked it once, studied it under the loupe again, and then stared at them. He sighed in disappointment, then pulled out a bag and swept all the gems into it.

“Snaggle-tooth,” he called out. A goblin hurried over from a line of waiting goblins. He handed the bag to the goblin.

In short order, the three were led to a Master Knifethrower’s office.

He studied the gems they had given the clerk in the front lobby carefully, separating them into two piles. Then he leaned back in his chair and studied them. None of them had taken the three chairs offered and stood in a loose line in front of his desk. Earl was staring around the room, bored. The infiltrators would handle everything for him. Emmie and Essie, however, stood in a warrior’s stance, slightly angled so they could keep an eye on the four guards in his office as well as the goblin behind the desk. They were prepared to fight, if they had to.

“You will remove the glamours,” he snarled at Earl, getting his surprised attention. “Or leave.”

After a moment’s hesitation, as they debated the demand, Earl lifted his wand and quickly cancelled the first layer of illusions on himself and his sisters.

Not that they knew it at the time, but even if the gems hadn’t given them away, their attitudes did. They reacted differently from the British that the goblins routinely engaged. They were not gawking, hesitant, or afraid as most muggles — and they couldn’t be wizards wearing those clothes. They were wary, but not intimidated. They seemed to know little of the bank, like muggles, yet they were not awed by magic as muggles were. They had no accents, but acted as if they didn’t know goblins. There was only one group that fit those parameters — Equestrians.

They didn’t have the outrageous hair colours that the other Equestrians all sported, but they looked to be brother and sisters — and they bore a more than passing resemblance to someone that Knifethrower knew. A certain Equestrian witch. The four were close enough in appearance for the three in the room to be siblings, and her, their older aunt.

“You have recently arrived from Equestria,” he stated. His gaze flickered to the gems. “These are distinctive to that locale.”

Earl gave the goblin an alarmed look, but before he could do more, Emmie ordered, via their mind link, “Don’t move!” There was a good helping of fury at his nymphish failure to maintain his composure.

Until then, the four guards had been radiating only an alert boredom.

He slumped a little bit, “Sorry.” Then he added defensively, “I don’t have your training.”

But the damage was done. The guards were no longer bored.

She relayed to him exactly what she wanted him to do if everything went to tartarus.

This took place in a mere instant. Essie, like Emmie, hadn’t reacted by moving so much as a muscle.

Knifethrower was radiating amusement at successfully surprising them.

“We know Equestrians have another form. Before we continue, you must show us your true forms.”

They were silent a brief moment as they furiously debated what to do. Above all, they were not going to reveal Changelings to this world! One by one, they changed into disguises of ponies they had seen — a unicorn, pegasus, and earth pony.

No colour was repeated between the three of them. While the colours were fairly ordinary by Equestrian standards, the combinations on each pony would give the goblins headaches for several days as they remembered them. Certain colours just should not be placed side-by-side, even if they are pastels.

That they no longer looked like siblings merely mirrored what the goblins had seen of the Equestrians so far.

They held their pony forms long enough for the goblin to note them down. He didn’t remark on the green-fire that accompanied their changes to and from their pony forms.

He again gave them an evaluating look.

“What is your relationship with the other Equestrians?”

They stared at him, unsure of what he meant.

He gave an exasperated sigh. “You arrived without the escort that the Equestrian Princesses usually send, one who is familiar with the bank’s procedures — as your use of the glamours and method of delivering the gems shows. Therefore, you don’t wish them to know of this. Why?”

After another frantic exchange, Emmie said, speaking carefully, “Our relationship with the Equestrians is complicated. Suffice to say, if they knew we were here, they would be extremely upset and begin hunting us. That said, they don’t know what we look like, so we can easily evade them.”

He sat thinking, regarding them with narrowed eyes and furrowed brow. Finally, he said, “The bank will pay twenty-five thousand galleons for these nine gems, and a thousand for the others, total. You will need a vault for the funds as you will be incapable of carrying the galleons. Do you wish one vault for the three of you, or one each?” He opened a drawer and tossed three folded items onto his desk. Earl wrinkled his nose at the leather, but said nothing.

“One vault will do,” Emmie said.

“What name do you want on the vault?”

The three didn’t know exactly what to do. They hadn’t expected the goblins to recognize the gems’ origin, or to offer so much for them. Certainly not so much that they couldn’t carry it with them.

“The name on the vault will not be disclosed to anyone in Gringotts who doesn’t need to know. Most transactions are done by vault number.”

Those were reassuring statements, but what name could they use that wouldn’t tip off the Equestrians that lings were here, and also conceal them from the humans? After all, only lings would be named 370,456ME, 370,456SE, or URL370,456.

Annoyed at their silence, the goblin Knifethrower said, “Do you want Gringotts to reactivate a name from a deceased lineage? There will be a small fee if you do.” He gave them a smile that showed many teeth.

Emmie, still consulting with her companions, asked, “How much?”

The goblin leaned forward intently. “I will waive that charge if you will tell me about the political situation in Equestria. We have already had this discussion with another and wish to verify a few facts.”

Emmie could feel that the goblin was taking advantage of their ignorance. “What other fees are we charged?”

It was a quick discussion before Emmie agreed to the goblin’s trade. As long as they didn’t betray anything about the lings in Equestria, the three didn’t see a problem. In the meantime, they were not charged for their wallets or vault fees for a year.

Knifethrower brusquely explained that the wizards and witches organized by family, like the equestrians. However, unlike the equestrians, human families shared a last name, a surname. Thus, it was that Emmie, Essie, and Earl became the Pauncefoots, a family only recently returned from overseas. The goblin was uninterested in their relationship, whether as siblings, a couple with a sister, or a husband with two wives.

“The wallets will be linked to your vault, number seven thirteen.” he said as pulled out a small stack of parchments and started scribbling. “When you are down to a hundred galleons in your vault, the wallets turn green inside; at fifty galleons, they turn orange; at ten, black. At zero, they don’t open. A drop of blood on each wallet will seal it to you. You may each blood all three wallets. You must do that now.” He paused, then added, “There is a fee for their replacement.”

He stopped his scribbling to pull out a silver knife and set it beside the wallets.

“Your disputes with others stop at the steps of Gringotts,” he said, resuming filling out the forms. “In Gringotts, only Goblin laws matters. Breaking a Goblin law is usually fatal. Attacking a Goblin is rarely not fatal. Attacking anyone in Gringotts is against our laws. Using wands inside Gringotts without permission is against our laws.” He finished writing and dropped the papers in a drawer.

He glared at them as he folded his hands together on his desk and leaned forward on his elbows. “Other infractions have punishments from fines, seizure of your vault, to death. Is that clear?”

They nodded in unison.

There was a thump from the desk. He opened a drawer and took out a pamphlet and three keys. “These are the keys to your vault. Do not misplace them, there is a fee for replacements. Blood them as you do the wallets.” He slid the wallets, keys, and pamphlet to the edge of the desk, and then clearly waited for them to do what he had told them.

It did not take long. As soon as Essie placed the knife back on his desk, the goblin grinned nastily — at least, to them, the display of teeth was nasty — and started asking questions. He carefully noted down the answers Emmie supplied.

It was several hours before they finished and left the bank. Knifethrower allowed them to renew their “adult” illusions before they left his office.

They sat outside at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour drinking some sort of fizzy drinks, and tried to determine what to do next. This society was vastly more complex than they had anticipated. Without the resources of the hive to back them, they felt even more exposed than they had been in Equestria.

“We desperately need information,” stated Emmie via the mind-link as she looked out into the Alley. It was mid-afternoon.

“And a place to stay,” put in Earl, staring off in a different direction. He was curious about the world they were in, and didn’t share his sisters’ wariness — he expected them to take care of what needed to be done.

Emmie glared at him, then looked off in a third direction. No one would sneak up on them.

“And to get our stories straight,” added Essie.

Emmie sighed and rubbed her face with a hand. How weird that felt.

Essie was staring, squinting at the bank. Her brow was furrowed. Suddenly she rose, “Wait here. I saw something.” They could feel her surprise, suspicion, and a bit of hope.

The other two watched as she walked to right-side of the steps that led up to the entrance to Gringotts, which was to their left. She crouched a moment, looking at the ground by the first step. Her surprise peaked, then hope jumped, and suspicions shot up. She glanced around the Alley sceptically. Then she went to wall on the right-side of Gringotts where it met the next shop. She stared at the shop’s window, then leaned closer while resting her hand on the bricks beside it.

Next, she walked past that shop and Madam Malkin’s, but stopped at the edge of the robes’ shop’s window and apparently looked inside for a moment. The she moved to the window of the next shop, Flourish and Blott’s.

She abruptly hurried back to them, excited, happy, and apprehensive.

“There are lings, here!” she practically shouted in their minds. “I thought I saw a sign as we went in! She’s a Chrysalis worker, too. The next sign should be between . . . ,” she glanced down the alley past the bank.

“Gambol and Jakes, and Magical Menagerie!” finished Emmie. “The third window on the other side of the bank.”

They nodded, finished their drinks, and fanned out. Emmie went to the one between the animal and joke shops, Essie headed for the gap by the Quidditch shop, and Earl headed for the magical instruments shop. They would comb the Alley carefully.

Fifteen minutes later they met back up and put together the clues the other ling had left them. “It seems we need to send an owl to el ee rip,” said Essie, and looked down the Alley towards where the message had said there was an owl-post station.

Later, as they watched the owl wing off towards the west, Earl thought out, “Do you think she’s the Elly from our crèche?”

“I wonder what the ‘rip’ means?”

“Perhaps an address. It doesn’t matter. We’ll just wait.”

“The Leaky Cauldron?”

“That’s where we said we’d be. No reason to hurry, though. I doubt she’ll be able to get here faster than an hour, anyway. We can learn a little more looking around the Alley, and then we can people-watch from a nice and dark corner in the pub.”

It would be boring. They knew that buying books to read would be a waste of time — they weren’t sure what would be useful, yet. As soon as they linked up with “Elly,” they would know whatever she knew. The fact that she had been here long enough, and felt secure enough, to leave infiltrator messages beyond, “I was here,” meant she knew far more than they did.

They began a slow stroll around Diagon Alley.

It was a relief that the owl had taken their message at the Owl Post Shop. There had been the tiny worry that maybe she wasn’t here anymore, that she was dead, now, having failed to survive longer. A risk every infiltrator took. It greatly simplified their lives that owl-post provided instant feedback on whether the recipient was available or not.

They had no idea how far away she was, so they didn’t expect a quick response. At worst, they would take a room for the night.

“That was a pleasant dinner, wasn’t it?” Princess Celestia said as she looked around the table at her family.

“Yes, indeed, ’twas a delightful repast,” her sister Princess Luna agreed.

Princess Twilight sighed and patted her stomach, nodding her agreement.

Prince Blueblood looked up from his plate with a smile. “Most assuredly, auntie. While the food at the Embassy is quite excellent, considering its sources on the other side of the portal, the food at the palace, here, simply cannot be surpassed in its excellence of appearance, execution, and taste.” He turned his head slightly to the maître d’. “Please pass to the chefs my appreciation and compliments on a well-prepared supper.”

The mare curtsied, smiling broadly. “With pleasure, Prince Blueblood,” she replied as the other wait-staff cleared the table.

“Blue,” Celestia said, “Your reports on the other side of the portal make for very interesting reading, but what brings us the pleasure of your company this evening?”

“Ah. Yes,” he said quietly. He didn’t quite smirk as his diplomatic pouch, which he had brought with him, opened, and a crate was lifted out. The sight of the crate unshrinking to its normal size as it left the expanded space inside the pouch still made the mares shaking their heads. It would take a bit longer to get used to that aspect of the new magic.

The wooden crate was almost as tall as he was at his withers, with the same dimensions in width and length, when he set it on the floor. There was a fancy festive bow on top.

“I have a present for the Royal Family, but especially for Luna,” he said.

They all quirked their heads at him, then looked at the nondescript crate.

“It seems rather . . . plain,” Celesta ventured.

He snorted lightly. “Weighty objects tend to come in small packages. This one, without a featherweight charm probably weighs as much as you do, auntie,” he said, gleam in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a poke at my weight, Blue?” she said sardonically.

He leaned away from her slightly, dramatically lifting a hoof to his chest, “Not in the least,” he said in an exaggerated aggrieved tone, “merely a statement of fact.”

He cleared his throat, clearly enjoying their mystification. “To commemorate the one-year anniversary of the meeting of our two worlds, the Queen of England, and the British government, wish to present to you a piece of a third world — their moon.”

The three others looked at him, astonished.

“The scientists who delivered this to me said that it is a sealed, hinged, steel case containing one-hundred-and-one pounds of dirt and rock from their moon. They thought that you, Luna,” he nodded at her, “might like some samples to compare to your moon.”

He smiled smugly. “They purchased an unused space shuttle from . . . I believe it was Russia? A few dozen reparo spells, expansion spells on the fuel tanks, and a bunch of feather-weight and impervius spells had it ready for service. The whole mission was only a day. Getting the shuttle ready took four months. They left it parked in orbit under a muggle-aversion charm with an illusion of being a small satellite, and used port-keys to get home.”

Luna reared back in surprise. All three had their eyes wide in surprise.

“They suggested that you open the crate in a sterile room where the air has been filtered. It is currently a vacuum-sealed container, and you might want to prevent any sources of contamination when you open it.”

He looked at her as she hurried around the table for a closer look, the other two quickly joining her. Twilight almost beat Luna to it, despite being closer.

“They do request that any differences you find between this set of samples and your own moon, to please advise them. They are quite curious if their theories on how their moon formed might possibly match your moon. They are also quite interested in how closely the makeup of your moon matches Equus itself, and by extensions, their own planet. There is no hurry on getting that information. It is entirely at your own discretion, of course. They are just pleased that they can provide you with this gift.”

Luna shouldered Twilight out of the way as she examined the crate from all sides.

She looked up with a sparkle in her eye. “And it’s for me?”

Blueblood nodded. “The lead scientist said he couldn’t imagine not sharing this with you, knowing your affinity for the moon. And that the timing with the anniversary of our first meeting with them was too good of an opportunity to not use it to convince his superiors to send the crate.”

There was a slight manic look in her eyes as she gazed at the crate. Abruptly, both disappeared. Twilight jolted back in surprise, then a look of concentration crossed her face. There was no way she was going to miss out on this! She disappeared a moment later.

Blueblood grinned at Celestia as she looked at where the crate had been. “Well, auntie, do you think Lulu will remember to raise the moon tonight without you nudging her?”

Tia grinned back at him. “Possibly, possibly,” she murmured.

“This calls for a celebration,” she said. She turned to the maître d’. “Another slice of cake for each of us, please. Extra-large.” She turned back to Blueblood. “And not a word to Lulu or Twilight that I’m breaking my diet.” She lifted her nose imperiously. “I am celebrating the one-year anniversary, after all.”

“I wonder what I should get the Queen,” she mused to herself as a maid hurried off to collect the extra desserts. Blueblood hid his smile at being able to surprise his aunts.

Author's Notes:

The going rate for gold in the U.K. in 1992 was about £200 an ounce. In this story, Galleons are one-ounce gold coins, about the size of a one-ounce gold Britannia or a gold American dollar coin. The average wage for a non-menial worker in the U.K. was £20,000, meaning the average wage for a non-menial worker in the Wizarding U.K. would be 100 galleons a year, or one (1) galleon, fifteen (15) sickles, and twenty (20) knuts a week — and a knut is worth ~ £0.40. Which would make the price of a wand a rather significant expenditure of funds for the average wage earner, wouldn’t it?

Supporting this is that Mr. Weasley is a Department Head, an important professional government position. Based on what we see, he is paid only slightly more than his subordinates, probably no more than one-hundred-fifty (150) to two-hundred galleons (200) a year. If he were paid significantly more, his home wouldn’t appear so shabby, and Molly wouldn’t be searching the corners of their family vault looking for a possibly missed galleon.

Ch. 05. Surprise!

The moment Elly stepped out of the floo, she recognized that the three that had sent her the owl were from her crèche. They immediately recognized her, too. None of them reacted overtly. The drone and two workers continued to sip their fizzy drinks, calmly, even as the four rejoiced in their link. In seconds, they had the answers to all their questions. Elly, meanwhile, used her wand to clean off the soot from the floo as she looked around the room and moved to the side so she wouldn’t block other patrons using that method to enter the Leaky Cauldron.

Elly was in her older disguise, the one she used when she wanted to appear as an adult. The one that she had shown the goblins.

She pretended to spot the three for the first time, and made her way to their table. As she approached, she studied and critiqued the forms the other three had taken. Her minor comments would be ignored this time, but incorporated for their next form. These forms would never be used again.

The other three greeted her warmly. “Elly, how good to see you!” Essie said, standing to embrace the other. Emmie had also stood, and likewise embraced her as the other worker released her. Earl stood and leaned over the table to shake her hand.

“I hope I’m not late,” Elly said.

“No,” said Emmie, smiling back and holding Elly’s hands in hers. “Not at all. You’re right on time. We’ve just been sitting here relaxing, waiting until you arrived.”

When the waitress came up, Elly politely declined. “No, thank you. They’ve been waiting for me. We’ll be late for a surprise party if we don’t leave now.”

All of that was for the benefit of the few people seated around them, of course. Meanwhile they were carrying on a fast and furious mind-link conversation of how to handle the situation.

Elly smiled at her siblings and nodded towards the floo. Moments later, the four exited into the de Rippe mansion. “It’s safe here,” Elly explained. There were things they needed to discuss — and to see if her suspicions were correct. She pulled her robe over her head, and pulled her wand from its pocket. She dropped her disguise for her human default form. There was a brief hesitation, then the other three dropped their disguises, as well. They were holding their wallets with the keys, and Emmie held the second-hand wand.

Elly shook her head. “Follow me,” she said, and led the upstairs to her official bedroom. The door to her walk-in closet was a mirror.

“You’re different,” Emmie said, looking at Elly critically, glancing between herself, Essie, and Earl.

Whatever Elly had intended to show them in bringing them upstairs, that wasn’t it, based on her reaction.

Elly, too, was going from staring at them and then herself in the mirror. While the four of them were exactly the same ages, Elly looked . . . more mature. A bit taller, not much, but noticeable. Her facial features were . . . straighter, less rounded. Her figure was not as childish — her waist was better defined and her chest not as flat.

Anyone seeing them together would see that they were related, but while the three newcomers were clearly siblings, twins with a slightly younger brother, she wasn’t. She might be a year-older cousin, perhaps.

There was also an . . . air about her, for lack of a better word. Her voice had a bit of a command to it. When she had said to follow her, they had immediately complied, no questions and no comments. She had said it, they had obeyed. They didn’t have to obey, but something said to do so. Like a trainee responding to her instructor.

Had being alone for so long give her an air of command, like a senior in the hive? She certainly held herself with more confidence than they did.

Elly frowned at the mirror image, shook herself, and sighed. “We’ll worry about that later. What I wanted you to see is that we are all human nymphs, children. We are not lings when we relax our disguises, but children indistinguishable from other human children.”

She turned and gave the three a critical look. “Humans, as you have noticed, always wear clothes. This extends to almost every moment in their lives except when bathing and procreating. And some don’t even disrobe for the procreation.”

As she spoke, images from the hive mind they now shared rose up with examples, illustrating her points. She had been in the human world for almost a year, now, and had not wasted her time. Observing Hogwarts’ students, Madam Puddifoot’s customers, and then her own tenants had been quite informative.

“In the mansion, and the hive I’ve started below, we could dispense with that. But I’m not sure we should. Being too casual about our state of dress could cause closer scrutiny by others and reveal us. Plus, skin,” she tapped her left arm with her fingers, “is rather sensitive to damage, quite unlike our chitin. Humans are even more fragile than ponies!”

The others’ surprise was clear.

“The smallest of bumps leaves bruises,” she continued. “Scraping against something can even break or cut the skin and cause you to bleed like a pony! It is one of the reasons why they are so insistent on wearing clothes at all times.”

She nodded at their surprised expressions. “I have extra clothes you can wear temporarily, so tomorrow we’ll go back to Diagon Alley and get you appropriate clothes.” She waved a hand to forestall any objections. “Illusions work for the normal humans as long as you never allow any of them to touch you and fail to feel clothes. Unfortunately, you can’t foresee when such accidental touches will occur, and reveal your secret. Even worse, there are wizards and witches who can see through illusions. They will want to know, first, how you as a child can cast an illusion, and second, why you aren’t wearing clothes. So, clothes are a requirement any time you leave your sleeping berths . . . bedrooms.”

She heaved a heavy sigh. “You were lucky. I discovered, quite by accident, that there are certain magical and muggle areas where there are spells that cancel our disguises and stun you — just like a unicorn can cast a ling-spell and then stun you. The ponies have been quite proactive in sharing it with the humans, so it is best to stay in our natural forms as much as possible. Fortunately, I haven’t run across many, but that there are even a few is extremely inconvenient. We just don’t know when or where we’ll run into another. It could even be a place we’ve frequently been before, as I’ve noticed.”

She grinned. “Actually, there’s almost no reason to resort to disguises, anyway!” She began to feed them examples of how she had managed to gather love without changing her form. “Although,” she added, “we should probably do it regularly in private just to keep in practice.”

She grinned. “On the other hoof, minor alterations, such as hair or eye colour,” she demonstrated, “don’t trigger the spell. It appears that only a full change to another form is capable of setting it off. So, this,” in a quick crawl of green flame she changed to a tall boy with red hair, “will get you stunned and found out.”

They nodded their understanding.

“Now that there are more of us . . .,”

They could sense her delight.

“. . . we can experiment with how far we can go before triggering the spell, and escape before anyone finds us.”

They nodded again. They had to practice physical responses to questions and statements in this new world. Some of them were quite different from what they had been taught to expect when intermingling with ponies.

“We also need to get you wands.”

They nodded, assimilating her experience in Ollivanders.

“Given your apparent ages, I expect we’ll soon see owls bringing you your Hogwarts’ letters.” She frowned and studied them again. “They will probably put you in as first years, but with access to my experiences, you’ll be monumentally bored until you get to practice. We’ll have to think about that. Should we try to get them to place you as second years? Say that you already took lessons from tutors?”

She shook her head. “Well, I should give you a tour, first.” She turned and headed out of the bed-room. “Oh!” she said as they followed her, “Are you hungry? I have plenty of jars of love stored.” She began sharing with them her experiences in gathering emotional food at Hogwarts.

She could tell they were relieved that the food supply at Hogwarts would easily support the group. They would spend the time between now and starting Hogwarts reviewing everything she knew about this new world. Having access to the hive mind was one thing, personally learning the details and muscle memory so that you didn’t have to take a moment to search for the relevant information was important. That extra second it took to retrieve something, combined with not having the practice to smoothly use what they had retrieved, could mean the difference between surviving and not.

An owl arrived with their letters three days later.

They picked up their wands and school-supplies the next day.

^۸-_-۸

The string of Equestrians that descended on The Leaky Cauldron that August nineteenth left everyone gaping. Thirty-nine students with outrageous hair colours, and parents with equally astonishing colours, trooped into the pub. Their hair colours revealed to everyone that they were foreigners — Atlanteans as everyone was calling them. That they were seven unicorns, thirteen pegasi, and nineteen earth wasn’t possible for the magicals to discern, but that’s what they were. None realized, at first, that only nine of the group were boys.

With their parents and escorts, there were almost a hundred adults with the students. All with the same incredibly long, brightly coloured hair.

Seeing them all together at the Embassy as humans was shocking, Harry had thought. While used to seeing the brightly coloured ponies, seeing the same hair colours on humans was . . . startling. He couldn’t help but wonder if it would soon become a fad among the wizards and witches to use a colour charm on their hair.

He knew from what his uncle had said about teenagers that it wouldn’t be long before he saw such things in the non-magical world. Teenagers would do most anything to “show” their rebellion against their staid parents, he had said. And give Harry a beating to ensure he never harboured such unruly thoughts.

The new students were also the best, brightest, and bravest colts and fillies that Equestria had to offer. Out of forty thousand students who were the right age, a thousand had volunteered.

The normal incoming class size for Hogwarts, for the last few years, had fallen to forty, his mum had told him. A severe drop as the Death Eaters had killed parents they thought weren’t “worthy” of living — and their children. The parents were either muggle or half-bloods — blood-traitors as the Death Eaters derisively called the latter.

During the Blood War, as some called it, spies in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had been a great source of leads for the Death Eaters. They viewed killing the young muggle-borns, and their families, as culling the herd of undesirables, the Princesses deduced.

So, the number of Equestrian students selected should bring the number of students in the First-year class up to what it used to be before the terrorists started. However, that was almost double the expected first-year attendance for the coming term. The Princesses knew there was no way that Hogwarts, or any school, really, could handle an incoming class that did that.

Next year, it would be worse, but not because of the ponies.

The Princesses knew from the witchery history books they had read, that when Lord Voldemort had died, people had celebrated. St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries had reported a “baby-boom” a year later as parents dared to have children, again. Fortunately, by the time the “baby-boomers” started to hit the school next year, the teaching-aides the Princesses had provided would be well-trained to handle the further increases.

From what Harry had learned of witches and wizards, so far, they hadn’t noticed that baby-boom arrival. The professors would be caught by surprise at the sudden increase in class sizes.

Unfortunately, the Princesses suspected, many Death Eaters who had escaped capture or Azkaban, had continued their attacks with the help of Ministry sympathizers. After the magical accidents were reversed, the aurors and Ministry ignored the underage muggle-borns until the next incident. If there were no more accidents, the Ministry officials assumed the muggle parents had moved. There were no welfare checks to notice that the families had perished in suspicious accidents weeks or months later. As long as the accident didn’t require an official obliviator, it was ignored as a muggle problem.

Which would keep the muggle-born Hogwarts’ numbers artificially low for the foreseeable future. At least until the Ministry caught the Death Eaters responsible for the attacks. In the meantime, the increase in pure-blood and half-blood children would still be a shock to the system.

The selection process for the Equestrian students to attend Hogwarts had been a lottery. Harry was sure that a large number of the “losers” were relieved at “missing” the opportunity to attend Hogwarts. Although they would deny it if asked.

The witches and wizards in the Leaky Cauldron could only stare in stunned disbelief as the newcomers trooped out of the floo in a nearly steady stream. Yes, the patrons had heard about the three foreigners at Hogwarts last year, and they had even seen a few photographs. That didn’t match the reality of watching almost two hundred Equestrians trooping through the tiny pub, non-stop. They quickly formed up into groups of fifteen to twenty — four or five students, their parents, and their guides. Then they moved into the little walled-off area behind the Pub that led to the Alley as the next group started forming up.

The students and their parents had been living at the Embassy housing in Little Whinging since June. They had been learning bipedal movement, and about the witching culture and its expectations. Their Hogwarts letters had started to arrive only days after the ones who were already eleven had moved into their new homes. The ponies with birthdays in July and August had received their letters by the last week of July.

Tom, the owner of the Pub, greeted many of the incoming adult Equestrian witches and wizards warmly. He had met the parents and escorts when they had visited and introduced themselves to him over the last few weeks. They had wanted to familiarize themselves with the Alley so they could conduct their charges properly. Knowing the shopkeepers was an important step to making things proceed smoothly, the Equestrians knew. Especially with their precocious and skittish young charges.

Each group entering the Alley headed off for a different store to prevent overwhelming the merchants.

The last group to exit the floo brought an almost palpable feeling of relief from the pub’s patrons — the red-headed family with Harry was well-known to everyone. They barely noticed Hermione and Myrtle. At thirteen, their group was smaller than the others, but at least they were familiar. Even Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom, the three foreigners in the group, were recognizable to most of the witches and wizards present. That was mostly due to the Daily Prophet, naturally.

Today would be no exception. A photographer and reporter from that newsparchment had arrived at The Leaky Cauldron in time to watch the third group of prospective students go through. Which put them in a prime position to catch sight of Harry Potter and his friends.

The Daily Prophet had mentioned that the incoming class to Hogwarts was going to be hosting a number of “Atlanteans.” It also said that they preferred to be called “Equestrians,” for some unknown reason. The foreigners, according to the newsparchment, wanted to explore this new magic that involved wands. Where else would they go but the best school in England and Europe, Hogwarts, the paper concluded smugly.

The paper had never suggested, though, that so many would be attending, Harry knew. They would make up almost half the incoming class. Harry knew that there had been rumours that the number of Atlanteans was greater than those of United Kingdom witches and wizards. However, in a show of their overweening arrogance, the witches and wizards had pooh-poohed that thought. Considering the number of students they were seeing today, he could see that they were beginning to think that maybe those rumours were true. At the very least, there was as many Atlanteans as British wizards and witches, or they wouldn’t have had so many Firsties!

That meant the stores, and economy in general, were about to get a big boost as the demand for goods and services shot up, he knew. What they didn’t know was that the Princesses were funding the students out of the Royal Treasury. They considered it an investment in Equestria’s future. These students would be the core of their new society.

The Princesses knew their enemies at home would quickly discover the advantages of wands. They intended their ponies to be well ahead of any who might want to take advantage of the new skill-set to harm them. They would keep the method of making wands a secret for as long as possible. Wand-making facilities would be restricted to inside heavily fortified locations, only, for quite a few years. Individual wands would be closely tracked for as long as it was feasible.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t stop theft. That was balanced, however, in that stolen wands never worked as well as they did for the original owner. The wand chooses the witch, after all.

As soon as the Weasleys started to appear, the Prophet’s photographer started taking photos in earnest. The next issue would document Harry Potter’s, and his friends’, trip through Diagon Alley, Harry had no doubt. That their arrival was timed to coincide with the mass of Equestrian students going through the pub was no accident, Harry knew. Coverage of Harry’s shopping trip today would no longer be the exclusive focus of the newsparchment.

Meanwhile, the pub’s patrons gave a sigh of relief that no more people with brightly coloured hair came out of the floo, only normal wizards and witches. Who all groused about the floo being unavailable for so long, and asking Tom, “Was there a problem?”

Harry had to chuckle when the twins took off on their own as their mother, Mrs. Weasley, ordered them to behave just before they disappeared into the crowded market. As if that would make any difference in what they did! He knew they planned to examine the Alley thoroughly for likely locations for their new business. Mail-order was fine up to a point, then only a store would suffice. They were already brewing potions almost non-stop during the day, making over a dozen different products based on Sweetie Belle’s “discoveries.” They were actually having difficulty getting enough owls to handle their orders!

And that was despite Mr. Malfoy handling all their business for their Gender Gingers!

It was only the requirement that they had to pass their OWLS to use wands that made them stay in Hogwarts.

Despite the Equestrian Embassy warning the Alley merchants that they planned for their students to come in that day, and the numbers to expect, Harry anticipated long lines. Sadly, he wasn’t disappointed. It was still early morning and already the proprietor of Slug and Jiggers looked stressed as one group of students left his store and their group walked in. The photographer and reporter following them did nothing to make him relax. Still, he did his best to make each and every one of them received the times they needed for the coming year.

Unlike the other students coming in his door, the Equestrians were ignoring the standard “Hogwarts Kit” that most students purchased — which was a problem. He had stocked up on those in anticipation of the increased sales. The problem was that the “Atlanteans” were following the recommendations of Harry and the Cutie Mark Crusaders, as well as Rarity. The Princesses had instructed the parents to buy the better quality, and more expensive kits. Not the most expensive ones, though. Those tended to be padded out with supplies and instruments the students would never use.

The poor shopkeeper definitely didn’t have thirty-nine of those! He usually only kept a dozen and a half of those on-hand for the pure-blood students.

The wizard could see he would run out well before noon. He’d have to resort to telling the purchasers he would have to owl them their kits. Which wasn’t a hardship for the students, or their parents, in their opinions, by any means. It just meant less for them to carry around today.

Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions was mobbed, as well, Harry saw. He was so happy that Rarity had adjusted their robes back in Ponyville. She had complained, however, that acromantula silk was getting more difficult to acquire. It seemed that its extreme rarity in Equestria made it a much sought-after product. Given the much, much larger market of customers in Equestria as opposed to Earth, she had substantially depleted the stockpiles of the product on this side of the portal.

“If somepony can come up with a reliable source, they will get rich selling it here!” she had groused during his, thankfully, short fitting. Harry knew there was an acromantula colony near Hogwarts. Maybe he could get Hagrid to make a deal with them? A certain number of pounds of silk for a cow? A cow from Earth, that is. He shuddered. There was no way he would consider an animal from Equestria in trade!

Still, it would be hilarious for the wizards to discover, in few months, that the lowly half-giant was a major depositor in Gringotts. All he had to do was talk Aragog into cooperating.

However, it was the line out of the store at Flourish & Blotts Bookshop that took him by surprise. Especially because it seemed to be primarily witches who should have graduated from Hogwarts years, even decades, earlier.

It was only when their group pushed their way closer that he realized that crowd was because of a famous author being present to sign his books. Gilderoy Lockhart — Harry had never heard of him — had apparently written a series of bestsellers, Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Holidays with Hags, Marauding with Monsters Travels with Trolls, Voyages with Vampires, Wanderings with Werewolves, Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests, and One Hundred and One Practical Uses for Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. His latest was Magical Me, the one he was signing in the bookshop.

They lost Mrs. Weasley to the line to have her copies of the required DADA books autographed. Harry did a double-take when he saw Hermione join her. Then again, he knew from Rainbow Dash, and her obsession with the Daring Do books by A.K. Yearling, how rabid a fan could get over the thrill of having an author sign their book.

The crowd turned out to be a life-saver for Harry, he discovered. It made it impossible for Gilderoy to reach him when he realized that Harry Potter had actually walked into the store. One look at the wizard in his baby-blue robes, and wizard’s hat set at a jaunty angle on his wavy blonde hair, was enough to tell Harry he wanted nothing to do with that man. Harry pretended not to hear him waving and calling Harry’s name.

Unfortunately, the crowded store made it nearly impossible to browse, so they quickly acquired their books and regrouped out in front of the store. It would be a while before Mrs. Weasley and Hermione escaped the line that snaked out the door — the two hadn’t even gotten inside yet!

Percy had wandered off after getting his books, so Ron and Harry, and his herd-mates, decided to do a bit of wandering themselves. They told the other two that they would meet with them at the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Weasley thought that was a wonderful idea. He decided to drag Hermione’s parents off with him to the pub to have a bit of a drink, and talk about muggle things.

Harry and the CMC had to do a double-take when they saw Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon and their parents pass them on their way to one of the other shops with another group. Neither had mentioned being part of the incoming Hogwarts class at Harry’s party. Had their fathers pulled some strings at the last minute?

Still, it would be nice having a couple of new familiar faces at Hogwarts.

They managed to run into the twins and Lee Jordan in Gambol and Japes, the joke and prank shop. However, they soon separated — only after picking up a few choice products to send home to Pinkie Pie. And a few for use at Hogwarts, of course.

Livening things up a bit, the three pegasi groups switched to their pony forms and flew overhead to decrease the congestion below. Several flew too high and discovered that if you flew too high, and left the Alley and its environs below, they could no longer see the Alley. The only way to return was to go through the Alley entrance beside the Leaky Cauldron. The height-limit seemed to be about five or ten feet above the rooftops of the Alley’s buildings.

The Guard had already mapped out the boundaries of the magic field covering Diagon Alley. They knew somepony would see if he or she could fly out of the Alley and back. As a result, several pegasi Guards were posted on the rooftops of the surrounding muggle buildings to help guide the errant ponies back to where they belonged.

Harry did notice the Guards standing — attempting to be casual — at the intersection to Knockturn Alley. They were clearly there to prevent any curious ponies from taking a look at the disreputable businesses that lurked down that way. Every once in a while, he saw a student escape her minders, only to be dragged back — complaining, saying they only wanted to take a look — moments later. A few adults had to redirected, as well.

Harry noticed at least two pegasi lurking at roof level looking down at the intersection. He was sure they were there to make sure none of the regular residents of that dubious locale managed to entice one of their charges into leaving the safety of the main Alley.

Eventually, after exploring a few of the smaller shops that the vast horde of students and their parents weren’t visiting — yet — the group headed for the pub. They had an excellent fish-and-chips lunch, then went back to The Burrow.

^۸-_-۸

Author's Notes:

A.N. Because of some confusion as to where the moon rocks came from, I edited Chapter four to include:

He smiled smugly. “They purchased an unused space shuttle from . . . I believe it was Russia? A few dozen reparo spells, expansion spells on the fuel tanks, and a bunch of feather-weight and impervius spells had it ready for service. The whole mission was only a day. Getting the shuttle ready took four months. They left it parked in orbit under a non-magical aversion charm with an illusion of being a small satellite, and used port-keys to get home.”

Luna reared back in surprise. All three had their eyes wide in surprise.

“They suggested that you open the crate in a sterile room where the air has been filtered. It is currently a vacuum-sealed container, and you might want to prevent any sources of contamination when you open it.”

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Ch. 06. Once More, Into the Breach . . .

The Headmaster sighed, putting down the Daily Prophet. It could have been worse, he knew. All told, he was rather grateful the parchment had been so positive. The shopkeepers were ecstatic about their sales and profits from that day. The Equestrians easily had doubled the sales the shopkeepers had expected for this year.

Next year, based on what the Equestrian escorts had let slip in conversation, they expected to be a repeat of this year. The shopkeepers would be much better prepared. Most of the shopkeepers indicated that they would be hiring extra staff to handle the anticipated crowds.

The reporter had been surprised at how polite and respectful all the Equestrians were, despite their unusual hair colours. In the muggle world, only teenagers rebelling against their parents would colour their hair so outrageously, Albus knew. Rebellious teenagers were rarely polite.

The most astonishing part was that none of the adults, except their escorts, carried wands. An astounding number did, however, use silent, wandless magic. The reporter had been amazed to note that almost a third of them used their magic to pick something up rather than their hands!

The Equestrians had also admitted that every single one of them could transform into a pony animagus — even the children, who were happy to demonstrate, usually with a giggle. They also admitted that that each of them could trace their families back a thousand years or more. Several proudly claimed double or triple that. When asked about squibs, they had explained they had never heard of the concept before coming to England. Plus, to the best of their knowledge, there had never been an Equestrian who didn’t have magic, although a few of the adults thought it might be possible. Then they had shrugged and said, in an off-hand manner, that they expected that Princess Celestia would have taken care of the problem.

Oddly, the reporter said, they seemed to divide themselves into three tribes: unicorns, pegasi, and earth, based on their animagus forms.

The blockbuster question, though, had been when the reporter asked how their school in Equestria would fair with so many students going to Hogwarts instead. That had led to a discussion about how they had been chosen in a lottery of the best thousand volunteers out of forty thousand students of the right age. Which brought up the fact that there were six million Equestrians on the other side of their portal.

A separate article delved into the implications of an island with more magic users than in the entire rest of the world. An island where the ratio of witches-to-wizards was three-to-one.

That it had to be the lost island of Atlantis was without question, the parchment concluded, based on how many animals were common between their home and Europe.

He sighed and stroked his beard, reflecting on what he had learned over the summer.

The population for Equestria, the Atlantis of ancient legends, dwarfed that of wizarding England. The photos he had received of Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and Seaddle had left him gobsmacked. There were more unicorns in just one of those pictures than all the wizards in Britain. In fact, all the wizards in Europe and England would not amount to the unicorns in any one of those cities.

It was an unprecedented opportunity for someone bold enough to seize it.

While he had considered the possibility that the “portal” they used truly did go to another world, he had discarded that as unlikely. The commonality of soo many magical creatures, alone, indicated otherwise.

The ancients must have worked great and powerful magics to bury the island-nation of Atlantis under the sea, given that Plato’s account made it as large as Great Britain. Then they had expanded it into something that rivalled the continent of Australia, with its own oceans and islands! He knew that with powerful enough expansion spells, in theory, it was possible to contain a continent in an island under the sea.

If they had done so, it would also explain why they “manually” moved the sun and moon.

They needed an artificial magical sun to make up the difference between what would normally be sufficient sunlight for a large island and the amount required to cover an entire continent. Otherwise, the continent would be in a perpetual near-twilight as the sunlight that was brilliantly-bright on a winter day in England was stretched to cover a much bigger continent! A dilution of over thirty-five times he estimated. While overly bright for a room, it would be totally inadequate for your average farm. And the forests would be an almost impenetrable darkness, even at noon. Especially in the northern and southern sections of the expanded island.

Well, then, if you had to have an artificial sun, then you must have an artificial moon, too, wouldn’t you? Stars would be needed, as well, or it would be immediately obvious that they lived in a cave under the sea, an uncomfortable situation for most people.

Supporting his conclusions were the statements that in ancient times teams of unicorns were needed to move the sun, moon, and stars. The numbers varied from a mere ten to a hundred or more, depending on how old the legend was, with the smaller numbers coming from more recent authorities. The older legends also said that many of the team members died early deaths from magical exhaustion. The very fact that those histories existed proved that Equestria had to be a construction, a hidden undersea continent. Otherwise, how could that world have existed before there were unicorns to move the sun?

Then there were the maps. The Equestrians clearly had the ability to map their entire world, and they had. Except those maps showed their world to be round! How could that be possible and still have Celestia and Luna move the Sun, Moon, and stars? Not to mention being in a cavern! If the world were round, the world would rotate and remove the need for Celestia to do anything — making her a fraud.

Yet, all his sources confirmed that Celestia routinely made the sun rise and set, as Luna did the moon and stars. The variations in time between sunrise and sunset did not progress evenly and smoothly, as they would if Atlantis were a separate, rotating, world orbiting a sun. Not to mention the time she had shown-off to him her control of the Sun, making it dip and move about in ways that would be impossible for a planet orbiting a sun.

Atlantis, therefore, was flat! Magic made it appear as a globe, just as his world had been thought to be flat by many when it was really a globe. It would take a lot of magical power to warp light to give a semblance of a horizon to everyone, no matter where they stood, but not too tremendous an amount of magic. For Poseidon, an ancient god, it was probably a trivial exercise.

As for the “edges” of the giant cavern that held the island? Wizard-repelling-style charms could handle that, easily! It should even be possible to construct a spell on the inside of the cavern’s walls that would act as a portkey. Should someone attempt to go around the world to prove it round, the portkey would activate on touch to send that person to the exact opposite side of the cavern. Combined with a confundus and the proper illusions, they would never suspect they hadn’t gone around the world!

Merlin! Leave off the wizard-repelling charms and there could even be a town at the cavern’s edge that was actually split to opposite sides of it. The inhabitants would never notice!

As far as the inhabitants of Atlantis were concerned, by everything they could perceive and measure, they lived on a separate world, far from Earth.

Clearly, Poseidon had done this. What Albus had seen and heard about the one they called the God of Chaos when he had visited Equestria had shown just how powerful that ancient being was. The histories in the books about the Princesses’ conflicts with him merely backed up that fact.

That the two were the same being had been proven to him during that one Royal Equestrian Ball he had attended. It was possible that Poseidon had had the help of some of the other ancient “gods” in creating Equus, but, still, he appeared more than powerful enough to do it himself. The other gods were probably still in Equestria, but not as visible to the inhabitants for various reasons.

Which, in turn, gave a clue as to why there were no muggles or non-magical plants and animals. The powerful magics needed for the continent’s creation and continued existence permeated the land, sea, and air in vast quantities. There was so much magic that non-magicals would turn into magicals after only a generation or two!

Which brought him back to his new students.

That so many were girls would pique the interest of the old families with unmarried heirs. The Atlanteans might be foreigners, but they were all from families with a pedigree that stretched back well for over one or two thousand years. Poseidon had implied that it might be as far as six thousand years ago! That would dwarf the conservative families’ own lineage. And with nary a trace of a squib!

That they would all have animagus forms, already, would enhance the conservatives’ interest greatly. Yes, it would be quite interesting to see how those old families dealt with the possibility of adding such a magical heritage to their own. They would have to revise, severely, their pure-blood pretensions when they were the ones who would be considered half-bloods! Especially as every pure-blood family in England had more than one squib in their family tree, unlike the Atlanteans.

Of course, that the Atlanteans had no problems with polygamy would draw interest even from the Heads of families, not to mention their Heirs! It might require a minor adjustment in Wizarding society, but with the magical heritages at stake? The mother or father might be a squib, but the grandchildren? Ha! Those would make the changes imperative. The Wizengamot would fall all over themselves making it not only legal, but expected!

He wondered, would spending part of a pregnancy in Atlantis be able to prevent a squib? Would it boost the power of what would be a wizard or witch? Would it be better to spend the first few months there, or would the last few be sufficient? Should they try to conceive there? With aide of a fertility potion, a honeymoon in Atlantis would always end with a pregnancy. Would that be a sufficient boost?

Some experimentation would be required, and careful study of the results.

He would leave a few hints to Sirius that he should build an exclusive resort in Atlantis to cater to pure-bloods who wanted to take advantage of that possibility. It would also expose them to the innovations the Atlanteans were adopting from the muggles. Spending a few weeks immersed in a society that mixed technology with magic would go a long way towards lessening their objections to adopting some of the same advances the muggles were making.

With everything happening in Hogwarts, he would have unprecedented control over the future of the United Kingdom’s wizarding world. Every pure-blood family, whether Light, Dark, or in between, would have to follow his lead or worry about being frozen out of access to the Atlanteans. With a few words, he could cast doubt on any family and steer the impressionable young Atlanteans in the direction he wanted.

However that turned out, getting closer ties between England and Atlantis would be a long-term boon to England’s prestige. Not to mention trade, which would enormously benefit the economy. Businesses in Diagon Alley, and a few other, were already seeing vast sums of galleons being spent.

England would, once more, be the country to whom the entire world looked for leadership and knowledge. And, because he led England, they would be turning to him. He would be in the history books as the one who had led the wizarding world into a new era of prosperity and peace. His name would be ranked right beside Merlin’s. He smiled happily at the thought.

Yes, the coming school year was going to be quite interesting. He quite looked forward to it. The First Years’ Sorting would be . . . interesting.

After their experiences last year with the Weasleys, the herd made the sensible decision to travel with the other Equestrians from the Embassy to King’s Cross Station on September First. Ambassador Blueblood had engaged a bus transport with sufficient room for the students and escorts. The students said their tearful goodbyes as they boarded, with many promises to write on both sides. The children wouldn’t be seeing their parents until Hearth’s Warming vacation in Equestria.

Harry had discovered there was a reason for not simply flooing or teleporting to Hogwarts. The spells that protected the castle needed time to adjust to the sudden influx of hundreds and hundreds of students. The students being on the magical train, the train’s magical links and approach to the castle, and the students then taking carriages or boats to Hogwarts, allowed the spells a chance to process the returning and new students without being overloaded.

It was an eye-opening experience that morning for the students to see London getting so much bigger as they approached. While they had been taken on short excursions in Little Whinging, those had been in smaller groups and on foot. Even seeing the pictures on the television and in magazines couldn’t prepare them for the reality. Knowing that a city has a population of six million, the same as all of Equestria, and actually seeing it were two different situations entirely.

Plus, the ride drove home just how big this world was, in terms of population, and how the humans had conquered distance with machines that made everything they knew out of date. The bus, certainly, was much more luxurious than any trains or carriages back home! It rode smoother, faster, and travelled a road crowded with other vehicles. With multiple lanes each way, no less! A truly eye-opening experience for the students and parents, alike.

His mum, in her role as Princess Sparkle, had given them a pep talk before they had left, which basically boiled down to: “We’re proud of you! We know you’ll work hard, but don’t forget to play. There are counsellors available for you if you need somepony to talk to, or help with any problems. Make lots of friends, and have fun learning magic!”

The ride itself was noisy as the students moved around constantly, too excited to stay in one seat for more than a few minutes. Or the same form. They couldn’t help wondering if Hogwarts would match up to their expectations. Just from what they had seen so far, magic spells didn’t just meet those, but exceeded them!

At least, Harry reflected, they had a much better idea of what they were getting into than he and his three herd-mates had had a year ago. It was also so much safer, too. His mum had made sure of that. She had also confided in him this morning that there were three heavily armed EUP squads camping in the forest, just in case. And made sure he and his herd-mates all had a communication crystal. But they weren’t supposed to mention that to anyone, it was a secret.

King’s Cross Station was much busier than the previous year, when it had been a Sunday instead of Tuesday, a workday. As a result, no one batted an eye at the large group of children being shepherded through the terminal by a dozen adults. To avoid the non-magicals notice, they had temporarily cast colour charms on their hair. They didn’t want anyone asking questions about why so many Equestrians were at the station, nor where the children were going in such a large group. Especially as this would be the first time Equestrian children had been seen in public outside of Little Whinging. That they were carrying their shrunken trunks in their pockets helped. They would restore them to normal size with a wand-tap once they had a cabin in the train. They had all been told that their trunks would be taken to the dormitories when the train arrived at Hogwarts.

The crowd of students formed a barrier around the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-quarters, making it easy for the students to cross without being observed. The notice-me-not spells on the area prevented any overt reactions from the muggles. As the group got smaller, six of the Guards formed a loose screen — the other six were already across keeping the students there under control.

Harry, his herd-mates, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Myrtle decided to wait until last. They planned to go straight to the last car and avoid the crush that had formed at the first few cars last year, and was sure to form again this year. That they had arrived an hour early helped.

There was some confusion when Harry tried to transit the platform gate, as it suddenly was solid, causing him to crash into the barrier. His herd-mates were also unable to cross the gate. That it was only those six was confusing until Hermione made the connection that they were the only ones out of the entire bus that had had a run in with Discord. Why that should be a problem now and not last year made no sense. After that thought, it took only a few moments to teleport the group to the other side. Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle did it, and took the others as passengers. If anyone noticed and complained, they would just claim a Guard had side-along apparated them. Two of the guards stayed outside to warn the other Weasleys and the Quidditch team animagi of the problem. The Guards would teleport them.

Being so early made it easy for their escorts to check the train and help the Equestrians settle into their cabins. There was some discussion as to whether they should pack them all into one carriage, which normally seated forty-eight in eight cabins of six, or spread out a bit more to meet their fellow students. They decided to take over two carriages with three students per cabin. Hopefully, that would get a few others to sit with them, jump-starting their friendships.

Not that Harry or the Guards expected the students to stay in those cabins. The new ponies were already exploring the train in twos and threes, comparing it to the coach they had taken to London, and the trains in Equestria. Several had reverted to their pony forms and were exploring the exterior of the train and the station, itself. The annoyed Guards had their hooves full chasing down the curious Equestrian students and herding them back to their “assigned” cabins. Unfortunately, there were more doors and windows to the carriages than there were Guards. As fast as they returned one wayward filly into the train, another snuck off elsewhere. The parents were of only marginal assistance, being nearly as curious as well as proud of the fillies and colts getting such a privileged education.

It reminded Harry a great deal of Mrs. Figg’s complaints about herding kneazles, and was highly amusing.

Unfortunately, Harry and the others’ plan to take a cabin in the last carriage didn’t pan out. Their escorts had other ideas. The Guards put them in the middle of the second carriage. Harry and his herd-mates were not about to split up, though. Fortunately, because they were still small children, they had plenty of room instead of being crowded. Scootaloo wanting to hover as a pegasus just made things roomier.

On the other hoof, it was also entertaining to watch the arriving regular students come through the barrier and trip over their own feet at the scene they saw. The older students expected to see the normal chaotic mess of children and pets running around, and families exchanging their goodbyes. To see ponies running and flitting around the train station with adult ponies, and humans with outrageous hair colours, chasing them back into the train was . . . unique. Their astonished parents at first thought they were seeing pets until they saw them change into humans, and vice versa. For wizards and witches who had only ever seen Professor McGonagall change into an animagus, the sight of so many students doing the same was down-right amazing.

Harry could see more than one parent casting an evaluating eye on the ponies and then on their own child. Several corralled their children and he could see orders being issued. Almost always, these were the parents with aloof attitudes and tailored clothes that bespoke wealth and privilege.

He couldn’t help but smirk. This year, his status as The-Boy-Who-Lived would take second-place to the attentions drawn by the other Equestrians. He was all for that.

Just as funny was seeing the same students’ expressions as they walked past cabin after cabin half-filled with students with brightly coloured hair, and realizing that the ones they had seen outside the train were only a few of the ones present.

The First-year muggle-borns were instantly curious and asked if they were Equestrians. Getting a “yes” answer saw them quickly taking the opportunity to sit with them — and the chance to talk with the aliens from another world. Before long, Harry knew, the Equestrians who weren’t already showing off their pony forms would be doing so in the cabins, and proudly showing off their cutie marks, if they had them yet.

Last year, the Cutie Mark Crusaders hadn’t had any cutie marks. Fortunately, everyone in their compartment had been shown the Crusaders’ cutie marks earlier in the month. If they hadn’t, he had no doubts that they would be shoving their flanks in people’s faces to show them off. Or, more likely, lifting their dresses and dropping their pants.

Just thinking about it made him shake his head. They hadn’t been home in Equestria all that long before they became embroiled in schoolhouse politics and helping a friend get elected school student president. That he had been running against Diamond Tiara merely made them more determined to win.

“We did! We did it! We did it!” The three Cutie Mark Crusaders carolled as they danced in front of the school. Harry sat quietly, at first, but then the Harmony song drew him into the celebration as it made its way through town, getting the attention of their sisters.

It had taken them years of hard work, but they had finally succeeded in getting their cutie marks. The ironic part of the whole thing was that they got their marks after helping their perennial enemy, Diamond Tiara, defy her tyrannical mother, and not their friend who won the election. With their help she had asserted what she wanted to do! Their success had shown them that their talent was to help others get their cutie marks — to help them succeed in life!

All three cutie marks featured a shield split vertically into three colours — red, pink, and purple — to match their manes. Apple Bloom’s had the silhouette of an apple with a heart inside it. Sweetie Belle’s had the silhouette of a five-point star with a musical eighth-note inside it. Following the theme, Scootaloo had a silhouetted wing with a lightning bolt in it.

The next day, Pinkie Pie threw a cute-ceñera that lasted almost all day. With Harmony songs. And another filly getting her cutie mark! Helping others get their cutie marks had taken most of the fours’ attention the rest of the hols.

Harry thought that all the cutie marks on his herd-mates were rather predictable.

The best part was that they ended up with far fewer incidents of being restricted to home for their disruptive antics. Harry appreciated that.

The older Hogwarts’ students also noticed the large number of firsties, and the smarter ones took quick advantage of meeting the new Atlantean students. They hoped to convince them to join their Houses, so that Gryffindor couldn’t continue their monopoly on pony-petting! Or, at least, get in on the ground floor of making connections for the future. While they might be too old — a fifteen-year-old courting an eleven-year-old? Ugh. — many had younger siblings. Better to plan now then scramble later.

The wizards and witches also noticed that the Atlantean students were taller than their eleven-year-old human equivalents by nearly a head. They were closer to third-year or fourth-year students in size. A few seemed actually to have rather curvaceous figures! On the other hand, the adult Equestrians were all taller than the adult wizards and witches, and generously built, too, so maybe it was an Atlantean trait . . ..

Of course, they didn’t realize they were dealing with Equestrian eleven-year-olds, all of whom were more like thirteen or fourteen years old in outlook. Many of the older students would find themselves caught flat-footed when the eleven-year-old Equestrians started chasing them!

The older Ravenclaw students, and a few from other Houses, observed the number of students with such brightly coloured hair. It didn’t take a genius to see that the incoming class was much larger than any in recent memory, which would have a great impact on the school. Not to mention the rest of their society in the not-too-distant future if the numbers stayed the same for following years.

The fact that the Equestrians had all arrived so early in the morning, compared to the others, had another effect, too. All the older students, who traditionally liked to congregate in the front carriages, were displaced. Having three firsties in your favourite cabin meant you had to move on. One upper-year couldn’t force three other students out of their cabin, that was bullying, plain and simple.

So many adults wandering around was a deterrent for the more brazen students.

Malfoy, with his two boyfriends, might have done it, but by the time his and their families arrived, the first four carriages, not including the carriage for the Prefects, were nearly full. And as the morning went on, the rest of the train rapidly filled.

Harry had noticed on the train ride home at the beginning of summer hols that many students visited between the cabins, saying goodbye to friends and arranging meetups for the summer. The train ride to the castle was similar, except friends were bragging about what they had done over the hols.

He was surprised at the number of students who dropped by their cabin to say hello. There were quite a few from the upper years, such as Bole and Derrick, the Slytherin Quidditch team Beaters. Many he barely recognized. He definitely didn’t remember most of their names. But they all said hello, made some small talk, and then asked why there were so many students from “Atlantis.”

He explained that the Princesses wanted to learn more about magic and had asked for volunteers. Out of the many thousands, these were the ones selected. With both adults, as Professorial Aides, and children learning the magic, the Princesses hoped to have an adequate understanding of wanded magic and how to teach it back in Equestria. Which meant these students were almost universally the absolute best students in Equestria, and definitely not just the richest or most influential. Which was unlike the witchery world, where it wasn’t your skill, but who your parents were that determined if you got a promotion or job.

He didn’t say it, but he expected that the Equestrians would dominate all the test scores at the end of the year. Which would either infuriate the conservative wizards, or drive them to be more determined than ever to add that prowess to their families.

Hermione had to clue him in that they were fishing for information on the new students, such as who was rich, or who had powerful parents. Yes, any Equestrian might enrich the family lineage, but it was just as easy to fall in love with a rich person as a poor person! So why not make sure you hang around with the rich ones? Only if none of them seemed worth your while should you consider one outside the group.

It put a big damper on his mood and they finally just locked the door and refused to answer until the trolley lady stopped by. Still, by the time they played a few games of gobstones he had restored his good humour.

Author's Notes:

The Earth receives about 49,000 to 98,000 lumens per square meter from the Sun, depending on the time of the year, at thirty degrees latitude (outside the Gates of Hercules). Great Britain is about 209 thousand square kilometres, the estimated size of Plato’s Atlantis. If the Headmaster’s suppositions are correct, then Australia, at just under seven and a half million square kilometres, is about thirty-five times larger (which would include the oceans and islands around Equestria, like Griffonstone, Dragon’s Lair, and lands we haven’t seen in the official maps. From the show, Equestria, alone, isn’t nearly as big as Australia, based on the travel times between the coasts of country).

Cutting the sunlight reaching any given square meter of the enlarged island by thirty-five gives 1,400-2,800 lumens per square meter at the Atlantean equator (remember, there are seasons at thirty degrees latitude), less to the north and south of the island where there’s ice. For growing indoor plants, by comparison, it’s recommended that you use 20,000 lumens per square meter as the minimum, with 70,000 lumens considered optimal.

With tree leaves blocking up to 78% of the light in a forest, it would be too dark for undergrowth, except moss.

So . . . kinda really dim without an artificial sun embedded in the ceiling and dragged around by Celestia on pre-set tracks. These would be the same tracks that Luna uses to move around the moon and stars.

If Equestria is an island under the sea, that is. Given Dumbledore’s suppositions, how would you prove him wrong without resorting to space travel? And the wizards would probably discount that, anyway.

Ch. 07. What?

Shortly after the trolley lady had moved on, and they had had a bite to eat, there was another knock on their door. Harry was disinclined to open the door until he realized he could see an oddly-coloured wing stretch up on the other side of the cabin’s window.

Had someone dared to prank one of the new ponies?

He yanked the door open, saying, worriedly, “Are you okay?”

And then stared, stunned, at the pony before him. He heard the others behind him gasp as they, too, spotted the pony.

It was beautiful, quite possibly the most beautiful pony he had ever seen. He wasn’t the only one who thought so; he could see that more than a few other students had piled into the passageway to have a look. It had a blue coat with bronze-blonde mane and tail. Those weren’t that unusual, but the slightly protuberant silvery hexagonal eyes drew your attention. Or, they would have if not for the crystalline appearance of the pony’s coat and mane. The pony gleamed and glittered, and was almost too bright to look at.

It was a Crystal Pony.

But he had never heard of or seen a Crystal Pony with wings like the ones this pony had. Unlike pegasi wings, these were not feathers, crystalized like ponies in the Crystal Empire or otherwise. Instead, the wings appeared to be almost translucent skin — the arteries and veins were plain to see. It was a dark-blue crystalized membrane to be precise. He could see the train’s blurry wall through it.

“I believe I’m unharmed,” she said softly, in a dreamy and somewhat distracted tone as she looked back at herself. One wing was stretched upwards, and she tilted her head, slightly smiling, as she admired it, flexing it open and closed.

Harry stared at her, speechless and gobsmacked.

There hadn’t been any Crystal ponies at the Embassy, the last he had heard. There certainly hadn’t been any crystal ponies on the bus this morning! In fact, he hadn’t heard of any crystal ponies being in the volunteer list!

She turned back to look at him. “Are you Harry Potter?” After a brief pause, she continued, “He told me that you were in the middle cabin of the second carriage.” She looked up and down the carriage passageway. “And this is the middle cabin of the second carriage.”

“He?” said Harry distractedly, still staring, bemused, at the pony in the passageway.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “A Mr. Cord told me to come to this cabin, that you would have the answers to my questions.”

That redirected everyone’s attention.

“Cord?” Harry said, frowning and a bit worried where this was going. He was no longer admiring her appearance, but staring intently at her expression.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Mr. Dis Cord.”

Two of the girls behind him gasped in shock.

“He was very nice . . . a little odd, though.” She tilted her head, thinking. “He had one blue eye and the other was orange. But his robes reminded me of Daddy, so I knew I could trust him.”

Harry had a sinking sensation in his stomach.

“He helped me carry my trunk to a cabin and put it on the rack. He wanted to know if I had seen the Equestrians running around on the platform.” She giggled. “I told him I thought they were cute and funny.”

Harry and the others exchanged worried looks.

“He told me that he thought it was very unfair that there wasn’t a single Night pony or Crystal pony in the group of Equestrians that the Princesses had selected.” She nodded to herself. “Then he asked if I’d like to help him fix that.”

She looked down at the floor of the train. “I asked him what a crystal pony was, and he said crystal ponies were very, very pretty, in a shiny sort of way, and that only very happy ponies could be crystal ponies because when they are sad, they look like regular ponies.” She looked back at them. “Then I asked what night ponies were, and he said, ‘They’re like winged-ponies, only night.’”

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going. He could hear the CMC also sighing.

“Then I said I’d help him, and he said, ‘Have fun flying.’ And the next thing I knew, everything was bigger and I was smaller and I had wings and was very shiny.” She lifted her left front hoof and examined it, smiling. “And then he disappeared, but he said to ask you my questions.”

“Come on inside,” Harry said resignedly as he stepped back. Yeah, that was Discord, alright. Two ponies in one would be just his shtick.

Ginny transformed into her pegasus form and flew up to balance on the luggage rack.

Hesitantly, the witch walked in.

Harry closed the door and turned to face her. It was funny watching her narrow her eyes, crouch, wriggle her butt and then jump onto the seat where Ginny had sat. Despite never having been in a four-legged form, she was quite comfortable with herself. Again, Discord.

It was odd that he hadn’t caught any of the wizards or witches out with not letting them instinctively know how to move in their new forms.

Hermione gave a big sigh and pulled out her wand. She pointed it at the door to the compartment.

Harry glanced behind himself and saw that the windows were completely blocked, bottom to top and side-to-side, with wizards, witches, and ponies trying to see inside.

The spell she cast blacked out the windows. Then she cast a second spell to lock the door and then a third to hide it. “There now,” she said dryly, “I think we can get a few minutes peace with that.” She turned to the crystal pony. “I’m Hermione Granger . . . ,” and she proceeded to name everyone while pointing them out. She ended with “Ginny Weasley,” and pointing at the pegasus with the Weasley-red mane and tail on the luggage rack.

The crystal pony looked up at Ginny and chirped a “Hi, Ginny!” as if she were greeting a long-time friend, to everyone’s perplexity.

After a moment’s silence in which they all stared at her and she stared back, Hermione prompted, “And you are?” raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Oh,” the other said, “I’m Luna Lovegood!”

Ginny gasped, “Luna?” She quickly jumped to the floor and turned to face the girl, twisting her head side-to-side to examine her closely.

Luna nodded and said, “Hi! I heard you could change into a pony.” She stopped and looked down at her hooves. “Daddy is going to be so surprised!”

“When did this happen?” Harry leaned forward slightly.

“Just after the train left the station.”

“But that was hours ago!” objected Scootaloo.

“Oh,” Luna said. “There was this lovely mirror in the toilet. I wanted to see what I looked like.”

“Are you wearing earrings?” asked Sweetie Belle, incredulously.

“Yes!” said Luna, obviously pleased that someone had noticed. “They’re dirigible plum earrings that my mother made for me before she died.”

Ginny sighed sadly while the rest exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“How did you get them?” Apple Bloom finally ventured, glancing down at her hooves.

Luna gave her a puzzled look. “Well, first my mother searched through our dirigible plum tree to find a perfect matching set . . ..”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes, “No, I mean, did you get them from your trunk after Discord changed you?”

Luna ducked her head slightly as she tried to shrug. “No. I was wearing them when he changed me, and I still was afterwards.” She looked down at her chest. “My butterbeer cork necklace disappeared, though,” she said sadly.

“But, how?” said Apple Bloom. “Anything you’re wearing when you transform stays with the other form until you return to it.”

“Oh, goody,” Luna said, “I was worried I had lost my wand.”

Apple Bloom and Luna looked at each other a moment, before Harry sighed and said, “Discord,” by way of explanation.

Apple Bloom huffed and sat back. “Right.”

Luna had an aura of “distinct dottiness” about her, Harry soon discovered. On the other hoof, her genuine cheerfulness and odd way of looking at things — even odder, now, he supposed — was endearing. She also kept mentioning creatures none of them had every heard of — such as Moon Frogs, Blibbering Humdingers, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, Nargles, Wrackspurts, Gulping Plimpies, and Dabberblimps.

Her puzzling explanations of those creatures, and a frustrated Hermione’s countless questions, was quite entertaining. Ginny and Scootaloo spent part of the trip to Hogwarts telling the new pony everything they had learned that a new pegasus pony needed to know. Usually when Hermione buried herself in Fantastic Beasts trying to find some of the creatures mentioned by Luna

They were not, however, able to answer all Luna’s questions. One that brought the entire compartment to conversational stop was when she asked if pegasi mated while flying, and how did that work? Did they have to hurry so they wouldn’t crash? Or did one fly while carrying the other? Or did they have to synchronize their wing-beats? And how hard was that to do if one of them was upside down?

Scootaloo went cross-eyed after a moment, and ended up crashing to the floor.

It took several minutes before everypony stopped blushing and could look at each other without blushing, again.

For the rest of the trip, Scootaloo would occasionally glance at Harry, and then mumble and blush while staring at the floor.

When the announcement to prepare to arrive in Hogsmeade was made, it took a bit of work to convince Luna that she had to attend the Arrival Feast in her robes as a person. She reluctantly agreed, but only after they promised to teach her how to switch back and forth to her animagus form, tomorrow.

When she turned back to a witch, after a bit of coaching by the others, Harry was startled to see that she had tucked her wand over her ear and in her hair. She was quite pleased to find she hadn’t lost it. Nor her odd necklace made from butterbeer corks.

Harry and the CMC half-expected it, so they weren’t nearly as surprised as everypony else that Luna’s earrings carried across when she returned to being a human. Discord, of course. Harry was afraid to ask what wand she had.

They didn’t realize until after they got to the train station that Malfoy and his cronies had wasted a good deal of time looking for them.

Harry was startled to hear a familiar and disliked voice yell, “Potter! A moment of your time, please.” He had barely stepped off the train following Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, and assisting his other herd mates behind him. Neville took the hint and quickly turned to help Luna to the platform — she was still pouting at having been changed back to a witch.

He turned to face the Slytherin as he walked down the platform from further back down the train. His two colt-friends were a step behind him. A second-year, like Harry, Draco had a pale, pointed face and cold, grey eyes. He wore expensive tailored robes and tilted his head back slightly, so that he could look down his nose at everyone, as if they were his social inferiors. He was always sneering at anyone he felt wasn’t his equal — and he didn’t consider anyone in school his equal — not even the professors. Except, maybe, the Potions Professor, Severus Snape.

“Potter,” Draco repeated as he came close enough to talk — without a sneer this time, Harry was surprised to see. “I fear,” he continued in a conciliatory tone, “that we may have gotten off on the wrong-foot when we first met last year.” He stopped and took a breath. “I’d like to start over.”

He held out his hand. “Hello. I’m Draco Malfoy. I believe that I, and my family, could be of great help to you,” his eyes flickered to Harry’s herd mates who were listening with varying expression of disbelief and hostility, “and your family, at Hogwarts and after. My family has considerable influence in Wizarding society, and the Wizengamot. My father told me that Hogwarts is a great opportunity to meet those who will be shaping the future of our world, and to form the bonds and links that will lead to a successful and profitable career afterwards.”

Harry tried to keep a blank expression, but could feel his eyebrows arch up. He was not stupid, merely caught off-guard. Blueblood had been very particular about the responses one should make to potential offers of friendship, even if one came from an unexpected source.

He slowly raised his hand and took Draco’s in his, giving him a hesitant shake.

Draco grinned broadly. “We will never agree on some things,” he again glanced at the small crowd that had gathered around them. “However, such disagreements will always be in the spirit of competition, without malice. With other differences, I am sure we will come to reasonable solutions. I look forward to the opportunities we will encounter with each other in the future.”

He let go of Harry’s hand. “Well, I’ll leave you to your . . . friends,” he said jovially. He looked around. “Do you know where Pansy went, Goyle? I thought she was right here.”

They watched, bemused, as he headed off towards the carriages. Harry shook his head. Friends with Draco? What had happened here over the summer?

They slowly started off to the end of the platform, and the carriages to Hogwarts.

As he watched Luna wander off, after hearing Hagrid call for the first years, Harry wondered if they had enough boats. Would they require two trips?

This time he took a longer look at the thestrals that pulled the carriages. At first glance, they looked as if they had no flesh, that they were living skeletons. However, on a second, more thorough look, they had a thin black coat that clung to their bones, making them appear starved. Their heads were more draconish than pony or horse, with pupliless, staring white eyes. Their wings were massive leathery things — much bigger, proportionally, than the wings on either pegasi or the night-ponies of Equestria. They stood eerily still and quiet in the dark. Harry could see how others might think them sinister.

And ponies at home were scared of Luna’s Night ponies — they’d faint at the sight of these horses! The Night ponies at least looked like normal ponies, but with leathery wings and slitted eyes. Pretty normal compared to the thestrals.

Hermione had looked up the information about the gaunt horses last year, so he knew that they weren’t really as starved as they looked. Still, they were a bit creepy at first glance. He wondered what one would look like if it went through the portal. Which also made him wonder about the unicorns in the forest.

The sorting in the castle went much faster than last year. Instead of standing in a line at the side of the room, the new students stood in a line beside the stool with the old, dingy Sorting Hat. The person being sorted simply handed the hat to the next person before they left for their new House. Even with eighty new students, it took under an hour to sort the group — for most students the hat was in place for less than fifteen seconds.

It was easily as fast as last year’s sorting.

The expression on everyone’s face when the first Equestrian went to Slytherin House was hilarious, in his opinion. That another followed only a few moments later left the entire room staring in disbelief. By the time the sorting was over, and twelve Equestrians had been sorted into the House of Ambition, everyone was looking pretty shell-shocked and confused.

Not even the three Pauncefoot siblings going into Hufflepuff made much of an impact, although two girls and boy being Irish triplets should have attracted attention.

Luna Lovegood ended up in Gryffindor.

The final numbers for the four Houses in Hogwarts were surprisingly uneven. There were twenty-two in Slytherin, the House of the Ambitious (or sneaky, slimy, deceitful snakes, to some). There were twenty in Gryffindor, the House of the Brave (some called them the stupid cannon-fodder who always charged forward without thinking). There were eighteen in Ravenclaw, the House of the Studious and Smart (condescending swots, more interested in books than people, according to their critics). Finally, there were twenty-two in Hufflepuff, the House of hard work, loyalty, and fair play (their detractors called them the house of misfits or duffers, going into that House because they weren’t good enough to fit in any of the other three).

But, in any case, they were easily the largest incoming class in twelve years!

That evening, on the way up to his dorm, Harry spared a quick look into the First-year’s dorm. He shouldn’t have been, but he was amazed at what he saw. Despite the rooms above and below theirs having just enough room for five and six beds, the new students’ room managed to fit seven beds without any sign of crowding. He would have to ask the fillies if the girls’ first-year room similarly accommodated twelve beds.

Second Lieutenant Castor James Searle knew something was up when he walked into the conference room at the Number Ten Downing to find Princess Twilight Sparkle already seated, with Ambassador Blueblood beside her. The last two monthly meeting had been only with the Ambassador as he brought them up to date on their progress with the commercial aspects of the portal and their plans in general.

Searle had been the initial contact between the Equestrians and the British government when he had stumbled upon their trans-dimensional (or was it merely trans-space?) portal into Little Whinging, England, last summer. He had been a lowly Sergeant in the Surrey constabulary, at the time. Retired from the SAS, he had quickly been reactivated and assigned to Military Intelligence Department Five to smooth the way between the two species as they dealt with a First Contact situation — a first for the human race, but not the Equestrians.

After a few initial bumps in the relationship, such as the discovery that magic was real, and the accidental intrusion into Britain of a species at war with the Equestrians, they were now working on making a permanent presence in both worlds for both sides. The only spanner in the works was dealing with the wizards and witches that they had discovered living in their own world. Having seen some of what magic could do, the British were attempting to play the wizards and witches against the Equestrians, hoping to prevent themselves from becoming the equivalent of serfs to the two more powerful groups. A precarious balancing act in every way.

Fortunately for the British, the Equestrians were very interested in trade and cultural exchanges. They had no apparent interest in interfering with the status quo regarding governance. Distinctly unlike the Wizards who felt they had every right to treat the non-magical humans as fourth-class citizens, lower than slaves, to do with as they pleased. Unfortunately, magic let them get away with a lot.

If push came to shove, however, the British government much preferred the laid-back Equestrians to the antagonistic wizards. The Equestrians had been more than willing to bring medical miracles to the bargaining table. They had provided a cure for cancer and several other diseases, as well as a way to regrow lost limbs! All things the wizards knew how to do, but had chosen not to share. Instead, they hid themselves away and removed the memories of anyone who found out about them.

He quietly took his place and waited for the Prime Minister, John Major, the Foreign Secretary, the Rt. Hon. Douglas Hurd, and the Home Secretary, the Rt Hon. Kenneth Wilfred Baker, Baron Baker of Dorking.

Those gentlemen arrived a few moments after he sat down.

After the regular pleasantries had been exchanged, Ambassador Blueblood announced, “We’ve considered the locations carefully, and we’ve decided that the best site for the second portal is in Blackpool. There is a nearby international airport, Blackpool Squires Gate Airport. With the central location of the site in Britain, the railway and bus transports systems won’t require upgrading. The population has been steady for several decades, and was larger in the past. Currently, unemployment is high, and will provide an extensive labour pool without requiring additional investment in expanding the current infrastructure.” He smiled at the others.

“By paying a reasonable wage, we’ll reduce crime while decreasing poverty. A win-win situation, I believe you call it. Just purchasing the land for the area around the portal will have an impact, not to mention the clearing and construction.

“We’ll use local labour for that, with unicorns and earth ponies doing the final check to make sure everything is set at each stage.”

He watched the others’ reactions for a moment.

There had been three other contenders, Castor knew; Southhampton, Felixstowe, and Port of Milford Haven. Of the four, Blackpool was the only city with a sizeable unemployment problem and underutilized infrastructure.

“This portal will be for the handling of freight, only. What passenger traffic there may be will all still go through the Embassy Portal in Little Whinging,” he continued. “This will help prevent any individuals who might want to sneak through, either way. Cargo will undergo an intensive scrutiny by teams of Humans and Equestrians, including killing and sterilization spells, to prevent the transmission of insects, bacterial, and other types of small life. We envision a conveyor-belt type arrangement so that no personnel will even come close to the sealed-in portal.”

He paused and waited a moment.

“That sounds . . . workable,” the Prime Minister said, nodding slightly and giving his two intelligence officers a surprised look at the rather paranoid measures the Equestrians wanted to place.

“Excellent.” Blueblood pulled up a thick folder. “Here are the advance architectural plans we have. We’d like you to go over them and approve them before we contact the firm that handled the Embassy plans.” He smiled smugly. “Although, I think you’ll see we’ve done everything possible to keep the portal isolated and safe from interference of any kind.” He pushed the folder to the Prime Minister with his magic. “Our side of the portal will be located in Manehattan, which is our commercial and financial hub. It will have similar protections against contaminations.”

The Prime Minister gave him a broad smile. “I don’t think we’ll find anything, either. Your . . . ponies seem quite efficient and detail-oriented in their work.” He pushed the folder over to Baron Baker.

“Moving on,” the Equestrian said, “Regarding your embassy personnel. It appears that non-magical humans staying in Equestria for a year do not suffer any side-effects that we can detect, going right down to the cellular levels. We would suggest that you open an embassy with the intention of rotating the personnel on an eleven-month basis until the trials for the longer term are completed.”

John Major nodded. “That’s what our doctors tell us, they can’t find anything different from their baselines, except they appear a bit healthier.” He smirked. “The doctors attribute that to the mostly vegetarian diet the volunteers encountered on the other side.”

Blueblood gazed at the Prime Minister. “Have you decided on where you would like this embassy built? Space can be made in Canterlot that should give you a rather nice presence. However, you might also want to put a larger building in Ponyville to be close to the portal, with a third in Manehattan to handle any issues that might arise there with that portal. Use of a restricted floo-connection would make the three buildings almost seamless in your people’s ability to move from one to either of the other two nearly instantly.

“Of course, you can continue to use the current buildings you’re using, if you prefer.”

The Prime Minister looked a bit surprised.

“I’ve used the floo-travel, sir,” Castor interrupted. “It’s a bit disorienting the first few times, after that it becomes just another method of travel that one must endure.”

At the Foreign Secretary’s raised eyebrow, the Ambassador interrupted with a brief explanation, “Unfortunately, if you were to use that with any sort of regularity on this side of the portal, the magicals here would quickly discover you doing so. Especially if you travelled outside the country. They have spells to alert them of ‘unsanctioned’ international floo-connections.” He gave a wry grin and shook his head. “They trust their neighbours as little as you do.”

He looked back at the Prime Minister. “I don’t have to tell you the trouble that would cause with their Statute of Secrecy. Plus, unfortunately, the wizarding world is currently the only source of floo-powder, the activating agent. We are importing quite a lot of it to Equestria.” He sighed and shook his head. “Until we have our own supply arranged on our side of the portal, we couldn’t supply you any. Meaning you’d leave a paper trail for them to follow and discover that ‘muggles are using our magic!’ And then we’d have a problem.”

The Prime Minister nodded. Until the non-magicals could figure out a way to initiate portkeys without needing magic, they would just have to deal with the delays inherent in normal, mundane travel methods.

“How are the air pollution tech-spells working?”

All three politicians smiled broadly. “We’ve replaced all the mufflers on all the government vehicles and busses with your advanced-tech mufflers that render the carbon and sulphur into solid form for simple retrieval. The remaining oxygen and hydrogen molecules are released as either water or O-two. All new vehicles are being equipped with the tech-mufflers. In a few years, the older cars will be a minority and air pollution will be a thing of the past!

“We’ve already forced the industrial polluters to install tech scrubbers that do the same, releasing only oxygen and water vapour into the air,” Baron Baker added. “The coal plants have discovered that the selling the sulphur, chromium, manganese, copper, zinc, lead and cadmium waste will more than make up the cost of installing the scrubbers in a few years — which were all interest-free government loans, anyway.”

“Just doing the buses has made a marked improvement on the air quality,” Major remarked. “People are very happy with the results we’ve given them this last year. They are quite impressed that we’ve been able to clean up polluters without disadvantaging the economy.”

“Not to mention that we’re doing a brisk trade in after-market vehicle muffler retrofits to other countries!” the Home Secretary said with much satisfaction.

“Hmm, yes,” murmured Prime Minister Major. He looked at the Princess as he said, “The cancer cures, limb replacement technology, and pollution solutions you’ve given us has won you quite a few kudos, you know!” He gave a self-satisfied smile. “The yanks and ruskies are practically frothing at the mouth to get hold of those. It’s doing wonders for our balance of trade.”

Castor knew that every other nation in the world was hurriedly trying to puzzle out how these various ‘advanced technology’ devices worked. It would be a futile effort. They would never realize that while the electronics — mostly unidentifiable — did do a minuscule part of the job, the runes designed into the stamped logos, and others hidden by welds, did the real heavy-lifting.

The meeting continued for another hour as they went over various projects that were in the works. Such as the finding, retrieving, and recycling rubbish tip plastic and rubber, and turning it into raw plastic for their manufacturers. That was an astonishingly simple series of spells they were trying to turn into an ‘advanced tech’ machine. The recovered metals were just another by-product! Which was another game-changer in terms of pollution and industry.

About the only thing that the Equestrians or wizards hadn’t delivered a game-changer on was energy generation. Britain was still stuck with crude oil, natural gas (both gas and liquids), coal, nuclear, wind, solar, hydro-electric, and bioenergy and waste burning. While the Equestrians helped with the pollution end of things, they had nothing to decrease the use of limited resources.

Finally, just as the meeting was wrapping up, Princess Sparkle started to look nervous. Ambassador Blueblood sighed and just looked at her.

Castor knew the reason she had made an unscheduled appearance was about to be revealed. Normally, she didn’t bother. Just as the Queen wouldn’t bother attending a regular Ministry meeting.

“We think there’s been another incursion from our side of the portal,” she finally said.

Author's Notes:

A.N. Discord transforming Luna into a pony . . . blame Sir Chaos Omega

The Moon Rocks -- Sidestory

March 30^th, 1992, 10:00 AM

Administrator David Williams and Director General Arthur Pryor, of the British National Space Centre, BNSC, were both hopeful and dreading their meeting with the Prime Minister.

The sudden appearance the previous summer of the Equestrians, intelligent aliens from another world, had shaken their agency to the core. Proof positive that life existed elsewhere in the universe. That they appeared as normal people, albeit with unusual hair colours, threw everyone into a tizzy, at first.

The religious authorities were at a loss as to how to proceed. Some viewed the aliens as an afront — god had made humans the top of the heap, how dare these interlopers show up? Some viewed them as demons out to tempt humans from God’s true salvation. Others saw an opportunity to proselytize and save the souls of the aliens.

Many saw their human-like appearance as proof that the human form was the epitome of perfection as designed by their God.

There was a rumour that the aliens had their own gods, which, as scientists, the two men knew was to be expected. What was not expected was that the aliens claimed they could meet with and discuss things with their gods! Confusingly, they also said that their gods didn’t want to be called gods, or worshipped, and could get quite pissy about it if crossed on the matter.

Then it was discovered that they had the ability to become miniature horses, ponies, they styled themselves. That that was their normal form had cheesed off the fanatics — how dare they abandon the perfect human-form designed by the Human God? Obviously, they were mere farm animals and should be subjugated as such! Adding salt to the wound for those religious extremists was that the ponies had three tribes — normal, winged, and horned — and were so cute that prolonged exposure had to lead to diabetes.

Their technology quite clearly proved they were anything but farm animals.

That these aliens had used a “portal” to directly arrive had been a shock, as had been the revelations of their technology. That something without hands could produce railroads, tall buildings, and air ships had been stunning, and thrown-out all the theories about how intelligence developed — and that you had to have hands to do it.

That they were a prey species with bright colours that would easily attract the attention of predators was just plain confusing. According to most evolutionary theories, prey animals should be dull-coloured and capable of hiding in plain sight.

There were those who insisted the aliens were here to enslave mankind. Those proponents claimed that the aliens’ peaceful attitude was a sham to fool humans. When they had sufficient forces on hand, they would take over the world.

That the aliens only seemed interested in Britain’s deep culture and were freely sharing life-saving techniques — such as a cure for cancer — were merely facades in front of their ruthless drive to conquer Earth, according to those detractors.

Which brought them to today’s meeting. Was the entire BNSC a waste of time, effort, and money? Why bother with rockets when you can simply step through a door? Were they about to be informed of the dissolution of their agency?

Or, was this a meeting that would set off a new age of space exploration? After all, only a few months ago, incredible devices began to appear from five of the eleven partners in their consortium. The Department for Business, Innovation and Skills unveiled a machine that could scan for and cure cancer, the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, with the Technology Strategy Board and the Natural Environment Research Council, had produced air-scrubbers for both heavy industry and road vehicles, reducing air pollution by over fifty percent.

Rumours abounded about other devices in development to recover raw materials from waste in rubbish tips, both reducing waste and decreasing the need for imported material. The dead silence from the military indicated that they had a few new toys, too, or they would have been front and centre demanding access to the technology these aliens had developed. There was a rumour that they even had a portal-like system for instant transport between two locations thousands of kilometres apart.

When the other participants began to show up, the twos’ confusion increased. They silently watched as Sir Patrick Walker, Director General of Military Intelligence five, and Sir Colin McColl, Director General of Military Intelligence Six came it, with their secretaries. Next through the door were the Foreign Secretary, the Rt Hon. Douglas Hurd, and the Home Secretary, the Rt Hon. Kenneth Wilfred Baker, with their secretaries. With them was a military officer, a Major.

Last, of course, was The Prime Minister, John Major, with his secretary. He looked a bit harried, which was probably only natural with the upheaval the aliens had thrown at the government and their society.

John looked around as he sat down. “Good, everyone’s here.” He nodded and glanced at the two BNSC officials. “It has been brought to my attention that Britain has an unparalleled opportunity to jump to the forefront in the world’s efforts to explore space.”

The two officials exchanged quick looks. They weren’t sure if this would be good news or not.

“As well as keep an eye on our enemies.”

David and Arthur maintained attitudes of polite interest.

“As you know,” the Prime Minister continued, “The Equestrians have been generous with their . . . technology.” He sighed, “I’m sure you’re both familiar with Dr. Who and his ‘it’s bigger on the inside’ Tardis?”

They broth frowned and gave hesitant nods.

“The Equestrians have developed that technology.”

They gave him incredulous looks. The others in the room were all nodding.

“Another technology they have developed is a method to reduce the apparent weight . . . mass . . . of an object.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair with his eyebrows raised while David gave the Prime Minister a bug-eyed stare.

“Major Thomas, if you’d show them the demonstration modules?”

The military officer nodded and picked up his briefcase to set on the table.

“The Major is part of our new Special Technology division in the Army,” the Prime Minister explained, “who are attempting to learn and integrate the Equestrian technology to what we know and have.”

The Major opened his briefcase, then reached in far deeper than should have been possible, all the way to elbow in a case that couldn’t have been more than a hands-length deep — and that would have been with the case closed!

Both BNSC officials stood and leaned forward to look into the briefcase, astounded. They could see that it was deeper than the table.

Grinning at their gobsmacked expressions, the man lifted one side of the briefcase with his other hand so they could see underneath eh entire bottom of the case. There wasn’t a hole in the table, nor could they see his other arm, still buried in the briefcase. He set the briefcase back, flat, on the table.

Thomas lifted up a steel box and set it on the table, then lightly pushed it with one finger across to the two men.

“Pick it up,” he said smirking.

Mystified, Arthur picked up the box. It was about the size of a book, three or four fingers thick. It was much lighter than it appeared, so much so that he began to doubt it was steel, and that it had to be empty. There was a small latch on one side and a hinge on the opposite side.

He handed it to David and looked back at the Major, and the others, puzzled.

David handed it back to Thomas after inspecting it.

Still grinning, the military man walked around the table to stand beside the two. He set the box on the table, opened it, twisted a dial, then closed it. “Now try to pick up,” he said with a bit of a challenge.

Shrugging Arthur casually went to lift the box, but it didn’t budge to his loose grip. He tried lifting one edge to get a better grip and found it took a surprising amount of effort. It easily weighed four or five pounds. He put it back on the table with a thud that made David look at him with surprise.

He could only stare, glancing between the inexplicably heavy box and the others in the room, all of whom were hiding smile . . . or not.

Thomas reached into his briefcase and started taking out a pole, a pole that was longer than any of the dimensions of the briefcase it came out of. Ginning, he handed one end to Arthur. From its weight, Arthur guessed it was aluminium. Holding the other end, Thomas must have done something because the pole suddenly, and drastically, increased its weight, pulling itself out of his hand. His end crashed to floor with a heavy thud.

“Please be seated,” the Prime Minister prompted, knocking them both out of their daze.

“Can you imagine what we could do with an entire launch-vehicle’s worth of propellant in a tin that weighed less than your briefcase?” he said.

The two just sat there, stunned.

John’s secretary opened her briefcase, took out two folders, walked around their positions, and placed them in front of the two men.

“We’ve kicked around a few ideas,” the Home Secretary said. “We considered the idea of building something ourselves, but it would take years and take a sum ten times your budget, at the minimum.”

Kenneth gave the Foreign Secretary a sidelong look. “However, Douglas suggested we buy the Russian Buran Space Plane. Colin,” he glanced at the Director of MI6, “tells us that the Russian space program is pretty much dead in the water. Depending on who you talk to, it is either still in progress, or cancelled. In either case, all future flights have been cancelled and funds are rapidly drying up. He says that for the right amount, the Ruskies will be happy to unload their space plane and recoup some of their investment.”

Douglas, the Foreign Secretary, said, “I believe that if we were to offer them fifty million pounds, plus a half a million to rent the Antonov Mriya to get it here, they might settle for seventy or eighty million. With a bit of dickering, we might be able to get the Buran and the Ptichka for a hundred. The Ptichka isn’t complete, though.” He grinned at his colleague. “Still, a steal, since it’s estimated to have cost them close to four billion rubles for each plane, with inflation currently at a seventy-five-to-one and the rouble falling fast.”

Arthur looked at the Prime Minister. “And the launch vehicle? The Energia?” he asked, mouth dry.

“No need. From what my experts tell me, we can take off from ground.”

“But we don’t have room in our budget for such expenditures,” David tentatively ventured.

“The funds will come from some of the earnings produced by the medical devices we’ve developed and started selling. The yanks, alone, have put in orders for over a thousand of the machines. They’ve ordered double that of the industrial pollution scrubbers. Plus, there are other devices in development,” Kenneth put in.

In the room, only the Major, the Administrator, and the Director didn’t know that the government had traded a hundred tonnes of aluminium to Equestria in exchange for a hundred tonnes of gold. The Prime Minister had a rather large slush fund to back any Equestrian proposals on this side of the portal. Or projects he deemed necessary for the needs of the United Kingdom — without raising taxes!

“Major Thomas has been assigned to the BNSC to facilitate the integration of this new technology. One of the first tests will be the effectiveness of this technology with a decommissioned Bristol Bloodhound.”

There was silence for several seconds as the two officials looked at each other and the Prime Minister.

“Right, then,” John said, placing his hands on the table and standing. “That’s sorted.” He looked down at the two. “I expect weekly reports.” He nodded to them, then swept out of the room followed by everyone except Major Thomas.

“I think I need to have a bit of a lie-down,” Arthur said.

“You might be right,” said David, faintly.

Thomas grinned and pulled a bottle of something amber out of his briefcase, with three glasses. He poured the glasses and handed them to the two stunned officials.

“Gentlemen,” he said bracingly, “You’re about to become a part of history as presiding over Britain’s first space plane, and possibly putting Britain’s first astronauts on the moon.”

They stared at him, wide-eyed, then downed their glasses.

April 24^th, 8:45 PM

Williams, Pryor, and Thomas slowly walked around the modified Bristol Bloodhound Mark II missile and its mount. The technicians were giving it one final check-over before launch in just fifteen minutes. They were at the Otterburn Army Training Estate, Britain’s largest live-fire military training estate. It was in northern England, about eleven hours from London by car, and covered 60,000 acres — two hundred and forty-two square kilometres of vacant land.

No worries about hitting anything important should things go pear-shaped.

Thomas was impressed at the speed with which the BNSC had acquired the decommissioned system and modified it. The ramjets that powered the anti-aircraft missile in flight had been discarded. The ramjets’ fuel tanks in the core missile had been replaced with kerosene and liquid-oxygen thrusters, and its fuel tank. It could operate without a problem in the airless environment it would soon occupy.

The Major had been the one to “install” the “special technology” fuel tanks that allowed the missile to carry far more fuel than should have been possible. He had actually just brought in a shortened, newly-painted tank from another Bloodhound, supplied by his superiors, of course. It was shorter to make room for the new-engine placement. The non-magical technicians had then installed it. After the pressure test for leaks, he had cast a notice-me-not later that night, then cast the expansion spell on the inside of the new tank. It wasn’t permanent — a week, at most —they only needed the expanded capacity to last until an hour after launch when the tank would again be empty.

Fuelling the missile earlier in the day had required his constant vigilance in preventing the other technicians from noticing that they were putting in far more than would normally fit in the space occupied by the tanks.

The confundus was both a blessing and a curse.

While it made it easy to get the technicians doing the fuelling from noticing that the kerosene and LOX trucks were far too large, it also meant the technicians weren't paying as much attention to their jobs as needed when handling dangerous, explosive materials!

The other two were giving the missile and its launch rig a more critical eye. BNSC was using the original mount — no need, really, to change that. It made things much simpler. For the mount, the missile weighed just the right amount for a fully fuelled missile.

They moved over to the launch control vehicle.

The head technician looked up.

“Everything is green. We couldn’t ask for better weather conditions, and the airspace is clear.”

David and Arthur just nodded. The launch schedule wouldn’t be changed unless something went wrong. So far, nothing had.

The four solid-propellant boosters were unchanged from the original. They would fire for only three seconds, but in those three seconds they would push the missile to Mach 2.5, or eight-hundred and fifty-seven meters per second. It was an acceleration that would pulp a human, nearly twenty-nine times the Earth’s gravity.

The launch was spectacular. One moment the missile was on its mount, the next it wasn’t. Even knowing where to look, Thomas lost sight of the missile almost instantly.

“One point two kilometres down-range, three-quarters of a kilometre altitude, climbing at eighty-eight degrees. Boosters off. Main engine in nominal range. Boosters have dropped,” a flight technician said. “Everything is green.”

Thomas knew the missile would now proceed at a more sedate acceleration of eighty-seven metres per second, or 8.8 gravities. The guidance system would make sure the missile maintained that near-vertical attitude until the engines shut down for good.

Compared to the earth’s orbital plane around the sun, the missile was spot-on at perpendicular. That reduced the odds that they might hit anything — while the plane the planets orbited in was filled with comets, asteroids, pebbles, dust, and other junk, vertically had a substantial reduction of such objects.

It also dramatically reduced the odds of interacting with any of the junk put in orbit in the last fifty years. The space might technically be nearly empty, but that nearly was still very crowded compared to the space between planets.

As expected, the modified Bloodhound out-ran their on-site radar installation and they switched to a feed from the UK Air Surveillance and Control System in Fylingdales.

Then came the steady chant of altitude readings as the missile climbed. Ten kilometres, twenty, thirty, fifty, seventy, a hundred.

“Time mark, coming on sixty seconds . . . mark! Altitude, one hundred and fifty-seven kilometres. Velocity, 5.2 kilometres per second. Course within one percent of projected.”

Soon, Thomas knew, the missile would outrun their radar capabilities. Fylingdales, after all, was oriented more towards watching known launches of hostile aircraft and missiles from over the horizon, not staring straight up into space.

“Switching to SPACECOM for continued tracking . . . established.”

It was an unfortunate fact that launching any missile that went high enough might be construed as a military ballistic launch strike. As such they had to notify the Yanks, Russians, and Chinese — didn’t want any misunderstanding, right?

Britain had never launched a potential ballistic missile from the island. As a result, he knew that all three would be closely watching this launch, the yanks, especially. BNSC had had to confide in them that they were testing some new technology and needed assistance in tracking it. Hence, the standby feed from America once the missile cleared their horizon.

“All systems green, engine nominal,” called out one of the technicians.

“Coming on two-minute mark . . . mark! Altitude 626 kilometres. Velocity, ten point four kilometres per second. Course on track.”

The yanks’ shuttle lost its solid-fuel boosters at two minutes, approximately, but they only carried the shuttle to forty-five kilometres. There would be some intense interest from them, the Russians, and the Chinese on seeing this performance.

At nine minutes after launch, Thomas’ cellphone vibrated twice, then stopped. His wide grin at the success, so far, of the rocket launch grew a bit wider.

While the other scientists considered this merely a proof-of-concept test, Thomas knew the results could dramatically change the scope of the BNSC plans for a space plane, and the program they would build on top of this test.

How far did magic extend in space? Would the spells fail in Earth low orbit? How about middle? Or high orbit? Was geostationary the limit? What about farther away from the planet, like the moon?

The scientists were very unhappy at being unable to put any experiments on board — there hadn’t been sufficient time to create any. There were two, however, Thomas knew, in what used to be the warhead. They shared that space with the radio transmitter that would help the scientists track how far the missile actually travelled. The scientists weren’t allowed to know that, though. The notice-me-not had prevented any questions during installation and any subsequent inspections.

The first magical experiment had six components. It would test how far a port-key could reach. They knew the minimum had to be 12,756 kilometres, the Earth’s diameter at the equator, its widest distance, because wizards had used portkeys to cross from one side of the world to the other. But those were always based on being close to the ground. What about much higher? Or even beyond that?

The experiment used a mechanical timer and six portkeys. The first portkey, triggered by a plunger at nine minutes after launch, would be at an altitude of about thirteen thousand kilometres, to verify the minimum distance a portkey would work in space, and if it would work that far away from the ground.

That was what the phone call was about. Receiving it notified him that the first portkey had, indeed, arrived at its destination back on Earth. That confirmed that portkeys could be used to transfer back and forth between the earth and a space ship or station in medium orbit.

“Coming up on ten minutes and engine shutdown, on mark! . . . Mark!” A second technician announced, “Engine had shut down. Altitude verified as fifteen thousand kilometres, velocity according to doppler is fifty-two kilometres per second.” The engine had exhausted the twelve tonnes of fuel in its expanded fuel tank, and was now ballistic. There would be no problems when that spell failed some time tomorrow.

This was when the second experiment came into play. It was more important than the first. There was a bomb on board that was held from exploding by a small spell. Should the ambient magic fall to the point where it couldn’t maintain the spell . . . BOOM!

The abrupt cessation of the radio transmission would give them an exact distance to that failure.

Which would put a real damper on deep space exploration.

That it hadn’t failed, yet, meant there was hope.

David went to his car and pulled out a big bottle of champagne and a basket with a dozen glasses. As far as the scientists knew, the launch was a complete success and they could go home — after a suitable celebration, of course. The celebration would be brief for David, Arthur, and Thomas, then they would return to their headquarters via helicopter.

Thomas knew from their calculations that in two hours, while they were still in transport, the coasting missile would pass the moon’s orbit. That would activate the third portkey set for the Moon’s orbit. Before that, though, the second portkey would initiate at an hour and four minutes, a distance of two hundred thousand kilometres — halfway to the moon. That would clear all near-Earth space for the use of magic.

Twelve days later, it would pass Mars’ orbit relative to Earth, the distance at which Mars is closest to Earth, and trigger the fourth portkey. The fifth would activate in ninety days, at a distance of four hundred and two million kilometres, the maximum range between Earth and Mars. That would open up all of the inner solar system to easy and cheap exploration. Five months and twenty-three days after lift-off it would pass Jupiter’s orbit and the final portkey would activate. The entire asteroid belt would be open to safe exploration. Jupiter, itself, would be within portkey reach for almost six months at a time.

The portkeys would also provide important data, as the port-keyed devices used mechanical gauges to measure both pressure and temperature. Making everyone wear a spacesuit might be aggravating, but it would be better than having the first passenger arrive at their destination frozen solid because no one had checked for that danger. The included stop watches would also give them an exact measure on how long portkey travel took. Thomas was very interested in seeing how long a portkey to Mars would take.

Portkeys would make mining the asteroids a simple nine-to-five job! Resource limitations would become a thing of the past.

He was not disappointed to receive two more calls on his phone that he didn’t need to answer on his way home.

April 30^th, 9:08 AM

Yuri Koptev, the new Director for the Russian Space Agency, stared at the British Ambassador, Sir Rodric Braithwaite, almost speechless.

“You . . . are making a joke? Yes?” he said raising his eyebrows in consternation.

Rodric shook his head and smiled genially. “Not at all Director Koptev, my government wishes to buy your Storm shuttle for fifty million pounds. At the current exchange rate, that would be about four billion roubles. Which, if our information is correct, is the approximate cost of the space plane.”

Both were speaking fluent Russian.

“No,” Yuri said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

Rodric sighed dramatically. “Director Koptev, for the last three years the Storm space plane has been drastically underfunded. The second flight was supposed to take place in 1989, but was scratched to provide funding for other satellites. The second ship, the Little Bird, despite being delivered in 1989, is still sitting in its hanger only ninety-percent complete.”

He leaned forward. “The likelihood that the Kremlin will release sufficient funds to launch the Storm are nearly zero. As Director, you must know that. You might get the funds for finishing Little Bird, but that money would be better spent building and launching a weather satellite or for unmanned scientific exploration. Which is where I would expect such funds to go, regardless of them being released for the shuttle. Plus, the Storm is just not cost-effective to use as a truck to the MIR space station. The Proton rocket is a cheaper alternative, giving you three trips for the cost of the one it would take for the Storm.”

He shook his head sadly, just thinking about it, and leaned back in his chair.

“Based on the political climate of the last few years, I highly doubt the Storm will ever fly again.” He shook his head again. “It’s a shame, too. It is clearly superior to the Yanks’ shuttles. Your unmanned flight in 1988 proved that. If you were to sell it to us, it would still proudly proclaim Russian engineering while giving you a major cash infusion for your other, more important, projects.”

He looked out the window. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but you might be able to secure an agreement to have one or two of your cosmonauts participate on all the flights.” He glanced back at the Director. “And to carry out some maintenance on some of your satellites at no charge.”

They stared at each other.

“At the very least,” he said, “you’ll recoup nearly half of your investment in the program and pay for quite a few of the others without having to bother the Kremlin for additional funding.” He paused a moment. “Having it all in pounds instead of roubles would insulate your budget from the vagaries of inflation, too.”

Yuri stared at him silently. “We saw your launch last week. Something so small should have been run out of fuel long before leaving the atmosphere.”

Rodric nodded. “It was a proof-of-concept test,” he said amiably. “Now we want to put it to serious use.” He gave the other a level look. “We could build our own space plane, but we don’t have the infrastructure in place, yet. It would probably take months or years before we had something ready to fly. It would be much cheaper, safer, and faster to purchase the Storm.” He leaned forward slightly. “If we can get the Storm for a reasonable price, we’ll be on the Moon before the fall.” He paused. “And so could your cosmonauts.”

Yuri frowned in thought and studied the Ambassador.

“This is new technology from the Equestrians, isn’t it?”

Rodric smiled.

“And you aren’t going to share it, are you?”

“If you were in our shoes, would you?” Rodric replied.

“The Equestrians, they are happy with you hoarding what you have learned from them?” came the incredulous answer.

Rodric shook his head, “It was their idea, actually. One of the first items they acquired were several dozen histories books. They fear that if everything they knew was freely distributed; the planet would descend into a series of bitter wars. They much prefer that the United Kingdom act as a gatekeeper.”

He sighed. “Their political climate is somewhat similar to the United Kingdom’s. We have a parliamentary democracy under a constitutional monarch, they have a constrained nobility with a duarchy.”

“Duarchy?”

“Yes, they are ruled by sister princesses instead of a monarchy, and their nobility operates much like our House of Lords.” He smothered a grin. “Apparently, the Princesses were quite taken with the concept of a House of Commons and are in the process of trying to duplicate it.

“Just as you would feel more comfortable dealing with a communist country, so they are more comfortable with us, than say, the American Republic or Iraq. The current turmoil in the former Soviet Union states has them uncomfortable at the prospects of keeping the more violent aspects of their technology out of the hands of terrorists or violent states such as Iran and Afghanistan.

“Apparently, they’re using England’s response to the introduction of some of their technology as a guideline for what they . . . release in the future.” There was a short silence.

He signed and stood. “I’ve taken enough of your time, Director. Please give it some thought, and discuss it with your superiors. I’ll check back in a week to see if you want to negotiate a fair price.”

May 14^th, 4:12 PM

Watching as the Antonov Mriya cargo plane, with the Buran shuttle on its back, bank for its final approach at London Heathrow was awe inspiring, Thomas thought. The Antonov was a massive plane, easily the biggest airplane currently in use. It was accompanied by two Harrier escort jets.

Only the Hughes Hercules H4 “Spruce Goose” was larger, and that was only by a meter or two. However, the Spruce Goose — made of birchwood, despite its name — had only flown once. That was an impromptu decision of the pilot, Hughes, during a taxi-test. It never went higher than seventy feet, and lasted only a minute before landing, but it did prove it could fly.

Which made the eight-hour flight of the Antonov carrying the twenty-two-ton Buran even more impressive as an accomplishment.

The airport authorities had suspended all other landings and take-offs for a fifteen-minute window. They didn’t want any distractions for the pilots of the plane during its approach and taxi off the main runway. A bay in one of the airport’s maintenance hangers was prepped and waiting for the shuttle’s refurbishing and upgrading. Despite being a “civilian” project, the military was in sharp evidence, providing security and keeping the curious at a distance.

After landing, it took three cranes to lift the Buran so the Antonov could be towed from underneath it. It was another three hours before the shuttle was safely ensconced in its bay.

The day after tomorrow, the Antonov would return home to pick up the cockpit training module for transport to the European Astronaut Centre near Cologne, Germany. The EAC was, of course, the European version of NASA for astronaut selection, training, and support.

In the meantime, the Antonov would take the limelight as its technicians and engineers checked the plane for problems this evening. Tomorrow, they would be more than happy to give tours of the inside to the enthusiastic crowd. The Soviet political system might be in disarray, but the engineering on display was world-class. And they wanted to brag.

As for the Buran?

Thomas almost pitied the poor technician tasked with relabelling the Buran’s instruments in both Russian and English. A simple, but tedious job, requiring the dismantling of the entire cockpit.

Not so tedious would be upgrading the eight downward thrusters on the space plane to match the rear engines’ 8800kgf power. With those in place, vertical landing and take-off on the moon would be child’s play for a Harrier pilot. Unfortunately, that would require some major modifications to the nose and back-plane assembly. Assisting with that, however, would be the use of impervius charms to allow much lighter and smaller nozzles on the engines.

With the use of feather-weight charms to cut the shuttle’s weight to a quarter of normal when fully loaded, they could even manage vertical landings and take-offs on Earth, if they had to do so. But they wanted to keep that particular possibility a secret, for a while. Just pretending the engines had the lift capacity for a lunar landing was pushing the believability point for many people.

Also, the number of rear engines would be increased to six.

The rest of the forty-six Reaction Control System engines would be left alone. Simplifying things, however, was that unlike the yanks’ shuttle, all of the Buran’s engines fed off the same fuel tanks.

With luck, the first trial earth-to-orbit-and-back would be in July. Then the mission to the moon in late August.

The Space Race was about to get a kick in the pants.

And Britain would lead the way.

Thomas was elated to have been the one selected to assist in this project. His first love had been space and rocketry — until his Hogwarts letter had arrived. Being summarily frozen out of the wizarding world after graduation by pure-blood bigots had left a sour taste in his mouth. Doubly so when he realized he was drastically under-qualified, education-wise, for anything but the most menial of jobs with only a record of his primary years. Two years of hard study had gotten him his secondary years covered, and his necessary General Certificates of Secondary Education with excellent grades.

While he didn’t have a Uni degree to make it into a more direct role in the BNSC, even being peripherally associated with it as a low-level repair technician in the Royal Air Force had been nice. Not surprisingly, he had an outstanding record of always being able to repair something in record time.

When word had creeped over to him that the government was looking for a few people with “special” talents, he had waited a few months before stepping forward. He had been more than a little surprised to discover that his “special” knowledge brought an instant transfer and promotion. His unique knowledge of airplanes had brought him to this project.

Later that night, close to one in the morning, he slowly walked around the shuttle’s bay. It was one of two bays in the building. Currently, he was outside, and casting a light notice-me-not every few feet on the walls, and every visible window and door, surrounding the Buran’s bay. Only specially authorized personnel would not be affected — they had to wear a special, barcoded badge for entry. He added an alert spell to the windows and doors. He would know if anyone tried to sneak in.

Once he completed that chore, he entered the other bay and did the same to the temporary wall, and doors, it shared with the Buran’s bay.

It would keep the curious from trying to evade the guards patrolling the building, and sneaking in to see the shuttle. The journalists were being especially nosy. His superiors didn’t want anyone not read into the project to notice things they shouldn’t.

The rest of his night, until nine and with a break for dinner, he spent examining the shuttle under the watchful eyes of the soldiers guarding it. A light confundus prevented them from noticing the reparos he cast to bring the shuttle’s exterior into near-new condition. Tomorrow, He would repeat the magical repairs on the inside. The following day, the Russian engineers coming as passengers in the Antonov, would tackle the chore of refurbishing and retrofitting space plane with the British technicians.

One chore would be lowering the height of the wings’ landing gear to barely above the pavement while increasing the length of the nose’s gear. At the moment, the shuttle had a distinct downward slant from its tail to its nose, not a good attitude for taking off from a runway.

It was his job for the next few months to make sure the Russian engineers didn’t “notice” the magical items that were being installed. It wasn’t that terrible a problem, in truth. The British engineers could do enough hand-waving and fast-talking to cover the reduced-in-size heavy-duty engines that would replace the original RSCs, and the impervious spells on the smaller nozzles that would prevent their degradation in use. The big problem would be concealing that the tanks that formerly held 7.5 tonnes of propellant that now could hold over 2,000 tonnes. Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice that until the shuttle was actually fuelled.

And even then, it should be simple to keep them distracted.

The trickiest part would be the feather-weight spell. Normally that was an on-or-off spell, unless the wizard was constantly monitoring it. Thomas had heard that they were building a “special technology” box that would be adjustable on-the-fly, so to say. It would take a team of wizards to overlay the actual spell on the shuttle, but the box would make it variable from no-change all the way to reducing the shuttle to only a tonne. There was no need to worry about accidentally making the plane lighter than air, though. The spell would only counter to a set lower-percentage of whatever the space plane massed.

The tentative plan for that was to do it two days before the engines were tested.

Portkeys worked to the moon; they now knew.

A special habitat was being built for the shuttle to carry that they would leave on the moon. With an airlock and indoor portkey target, to and from the moon would be just an afternoon’s jaunt. A target would be placed outside for larger deliveries that didn’t need to worry about being in a vacuum.

The eggheads were arguing over whether the small moon-base should be placed at the north or south pole. Lunar axial precession was small enough that a solar panel on the highest peak in either location would give them non-stop power. It would only cost a few million pounds sterling instead of the hundreds of millions it would cost to cart everything to the moon. Not even a small nuclear reactor would be cheaper.

Both locations would give access to the “dark” side of the moon, away from the radio interference of the Earth.

June 15th, Monday 7:48PM

Thirty-eight thousand tiles. Thirty. Eight. Thousand. Tiles.

He was soo sick of this.

Thomas stared at the side of the shuttle in front of him. They had thought that applying an impervius charm would be simple. It meant they wouldn’t have to worry about damaged tiles due to impacts, heat, friction, or any other force of nature or man. The spell made something repel substances and outside forces. The tiles, for all intents and purposes, would be indestructible.

Ha!

It might have been simple if the tiles weren’t designed to be easily replaced.

Set an impervius on wall? Easy! It has a window? Apply a second impervius to that! Oh, a door? Another impervius. Why separate charms? Because they were separate items! They were designed to be separate.

Otherwise, if you set an impervius on a wall with a door, the door wouldn’t open. You needed to use force to push or pull the door in regards to the wall. The wall was impervius and the door was included in that!

So, here he was, assigned with nine other Special Technology officers going over the shuttle, charming each individual tile. And it was exhausting. None of them could do more than a hundred of the charms without nearly reaching magical exhaustion — which only took about two hours for each of them. Then they needed a night’s sleep to recharge their magic.

Thirty-nine days. Eight weeks, with the weekends off. They’d been at it for two weeks, and had six weeks to go

On the other hand, he did notice on Friday he had managed a hundred and five tiles before he had had to quit. Exercising your magic to the limit was beneficial. Tedious, but beneficial in the long run.

For the other nine wizards, it was easy. Officially, they were performing an in-depth maintenance check on the tiles. They came in at the end of a normal six-hour shift at their other duties, then spent the last two here in the hanger casting the impervius charm. They disguised their wands by slipping them inside a “probe” with a meter on it, and wore special googles that let them see which tiles had already been charmed.

For Thomas it was more complicated.

He had been assigned to fly on the shuttle for both the test flight and the moon flight. His superiors wanted a wizard on the crew as backup in case something went wrong. The crew would have emergency portkeys if something went disastrously wrong, but if it was something that could easily be handled by a wizard, why abandon the ship for a minor issue?

Which meant he spent eight hours a day in Cologne, Germany, in the EAC undergoing the same training the other astronauts were going through. At the end of the day, he apparated to Calais, France, took the Ferry to Dover, then portkeyed to the shuttle hanger. As soon as he arrived, he went to work on the shuttle for his two-hour shift. Then collapsed into bed by nine.

At six the next morning, he returned to Cologne and had breakfast with the other astronauts.

A gruelling day, to say the least. However, he would end up knowing the shuttle better than anyone else going on the shuttle. Which wasn’t a bad thing, now was it? After all, he was now a Flight Specialist Engineer.

He grinned.

He was going to space!

He was going to the Moon!

A life-long fantasy, one he had abandoned when he got his Hogwarts letter for another fantasy — magic.

And now he had both!

He realized he was giggling madly when he noticed the soldiers patrolling inside the hanger giving him odd glances. It probably didn’t help that he was here so late in the evening, instead of during the day.

July 29th, 11:00 AM

Major Thomas stood with Administrator David Williams and Director General Arthur Pryor as they watched the Buran being towed out of its hanger — they were keeping the name unchanged as part of the seventy-million pound-sterling deal with the Russians.

Today was the first big test of their modifications to the engines on the space plane. The avionics had been tested inside the hanger the previous week. The plane’s remote controls appeared to be perfectly integrated with the plane’s new capabilities. At least, as far as responsiveness. How it would perform under power was to be tested today in the U-shaped engine-test-run pen opposite the hangers.

The press was in heavy attendance, with several reporters almost run over by the various other pieces of equipment being manoeuvred around at the same time.

Under each of the wheels of the craft were special wheeled “platforms” that supported hydraulics group-programmed to lift five-sixths of the shuttle’s weight, to a maximum height of one meter. The concept, as the information specialist had explained to the reporters, was that they could test the effectiveness of the new “vertical flight” engines this way. If the engines could lift the shuttle’s effective weight of one-sixth normal, then they would be sufficient to handle landing on the moon.

What they were actually testing was the effectiveness of the feather-weight spell on the craft when used with its control module. They would then test the various new RCS nozzles for their effectiveness in “flying” the shuttle around inside the “pen.” Flight Commander Oscar Baker and his co-pilot, Pilot-Cosmonaut Vicktor Mikhailovich Afanasyev, formerly a Soviet Air Force Major, would be testing their abilities in “flying” the craft while it “hovered.”

No one was worried about that last part. Being both being former Air Force pilots, with Baker being a former Harrier pilot, this was more of a familiarization routine.

In truth, the avionics computer would be doing the “hard” work. The two pilots’ contribution would be more in the line of deciding general directions to move the plane in the test-run area, not manually adjusting the fuel flows to each nozzle.

The test was . . . loud.

And very successful.

Not a single non-magical twigged to the fact that the shuttle had had its weight magically reduced.

August 5^th, 1:00PM

It hadn’t really sunk in that he was going into space until Flight Commander Baker released the brakes and space plane began to move down the runway.

Up until that moment, he had been too involved in watching the instruments in his dashboard, and his magical spells, to notice them being pushed-back from the hanger, firing up the rear rockets, and taxiing to their take-off position. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a window beside his Flight Engineer’s seat on the right side of the cockpit. His seat was behind and to the right of the co-pilot, Pilot-Cosmonaut Vicktor, and his seat hid the front windshield quite well. It was also a step lower. The only windows he could see out of were the overheads, which provided him only a sight of the clear sky.

He sank back into his seat as the shuttle accelerated, and decided he would be adding a camera-like charm to the hull, with the display beside him. There was certainly the clear wall space. It would be easy to write the addition off as some of the “special technology” from the Equestrians — a tiny camera and lightweight paper-thin screen. Then place another beside the chair behind and to the left of the pilot, in which was seated the Mission Specialist, Cosmonaut Yelena Vladimirovna Kondakova. She was a brown-eyed brunette with a wicked sense of humour.

In fact, perhaps he should put in a score of them, giving views from every angle out of the space plane? It would be a simple matter to have a tile echo the view from its position, much like a magical mirror could do.

He didn’t need a window, though, to know that practically the entire runway was lined with journalists. This would be the first joint British-Russian flight of a space plane, taking off from the ground, going to orbit, and returning.

Once again, Heathrow’s normal operations had been placed on a fifteen-minute hold while the Buran used runway 09L/27R. At three thousand and nine hundred metres, it was the longest runway in Britain. They didn’t need that much room for their take-off, as the Antonov had. They needed only one thousand metres in their current configuration — that is, an empty payload bay. When they carried the Lunar Base Module, they would need more, about two thousand metres.

He could feel the surge as first the nose gear, then the wings’ gear left the tarmac. The Buran lifted off the runway and he slid deeper into his seat as the plane angled up to gain altitude faster. A few moments later, he felt the craft tilt slightly to his right to correct their flight path to a more southernly direction from east to put them in an equatorial orientation when they left the atmosphere.

The Buran was now under remote control, just as it had been in 1989. Commander Baker was keeping an eagle eye on instruments, and hands and feet on the controls, just in case there was an emergency. For this trip into space, they were all passengers.

Their course temporarily put them over the channel and away from populated areas. The landing-gear indicators went from green-locked-down to yellow for in-transit. A few moments later, there was clunk and the green landing-gear locked-up lights came on in his dashboard as the other indicator shut off. Following that was another thud, more felt than heard, as the light for the landing-doors-closed changed from red to green.

So far, so good. Everything that was supposed to green was green and everything that was supposed to red was red.

The engines throttled back to keep their air-speed below Mach One — they didn’t want a sonic boom to disturb Britain’s French neighbours. Once they were high enough, the engines would once more be pushed to maximum thrust. They would remain there until the Buran reached its assigned altitude and orbit.

If it weren’t for the knowledge that they were headed for space, Thomas would almost have been bored. It was only that they didn’t level off at 10,500 metres, as most planes did, that was different from commercial air travel. It was a smooth and steady climb.

Twenty-eight minutes after take-off, they were in orbit.

It. Was. Glorious.

“This is not possible,” Vicktor said disbelievingly. “The fuel tanks are not big enough.”

Thomas could see Yelena nodding her head. He was prepared for this, though. His wand was taped to his arm, with the tip coming through a special valve in his spacesuit at the wrist. He cast two quick confundus charms. Thank Merlin, the space suits they all wore were no more an impediment to the charm than a heavy coat was.

“Don’t forget,” Thomas said, “We’ve adapted some of the Equestrian technology to get better performance out of our engines.”

He couldn’t see the Russian co-pilot, but Yelena had a slightly confused expression as she nodded.

Then it was on to the minor tasks they need to perform — primarily taking pictures and putting the various capabilities of the shuttle to the test. Opening and closing the cargo doors, checking the airlocks to both the cargo bay and for EVA, testing the performance of the cargo bay manipulator arm, putting the different RCS engines through their paces, using the microwave for a quick hot coffee, and, in general, making sure everything on-board worked the way it should. Every cabinet was opened and closed, every access port opened and checked, even the on-board toilet was given a test by the crew.

Too soon, it seemed to Thomas, they had to make ready to return to Earth.

After buckling back into his chair, Thomas jokingly said, “If they had loaded the Lunar Base Module, I’d suggest we make a side-trip to the moon.”

There were several sighs, and a murmured “Da!”

Then the RCS engines went into action and they were on their way home.

As the Buran rolled onto Heathrow’s taxiway, Thomas heaved a heavy sigh, sad the mission had been so short.

Tomorrow and the next day, the technicians would give the space plane a thorough examination. With such a flawless flight, and the perfect score he knew the technicians would give the plane, the moon mission would be scheduled as soon as the Lunar Base Module was completed.

August 20th, 5:00AM

It was Thursday, one day before the last quarter of the moon, but the sun wasn’t up yet. Not for another forty-five minutes

The Buran had just been towed out of its hanger, and Thomas was nearly beside himself in excitement and anxiety. This was it, their mission to the moon. The addition of the four viewscreens was much appreciated by the crew. They now had the ability to look anywhere around the craft, fourteen cameras, at the twist of a knob. Linking them in sets of two would even give recordings stereo views in all six directions. Five cameras at the tip of each wing, three at the nose — one forward and one to each side — and one at the back.

His and Yelena’s viewscreens were permanently on, but the Oscar’s and Vicktor’s viewscreens were more akin to a heads-up display that could overlay their windshields if needed.

The take-off was simple, a duplicate of the original, as soon as they cleared the runway, the ship barely had to change its eastward heading, just its attack angle. Unlike the yanks had done in the seventies, this was a direct shot to the moon, no orbiting the earth first.

He got to watch the ground steadily drop away, and the sky slowly change from blue to purple to black. This time, though, they had the cameras running, giving them a complete recording of their take-off and journey to space. They were actually recording from the tips of both wings and the tail-fin. The wing-tip cameras would provide a unique three-dimensional view of their take-off from both directions.

It was more than passingly strange, and fascinating, to watch the Earth slowly dwindle in the wing camera he was viewing from. They were moving fast enough, already, to see the Earth getting smaller by the second.

When they returned home, the space shuttle would be examined, and upgraded with what they had learned. The next time the Buran flew, it would be to deliver some new Russian satellites, and recover a few of the old ones that were now defunct. With unlimited fuel, there was basically no reason not to start removing some of the junk remaining in space. That was especially true of the satellites in high geosynchronous orbits, there were at least half-a-dozen he had heard about. Then there were the satellites that were in elliptical orbits, going from low-to-high and back.

The advantage to that was they would be clearing up orbital positions for new satellites. Not to mention salvaging rare materials for recycling.

But that was the future.

It was a boring flight. Monitoring his instruments took very little effort. He almost wished he could play a movie to alleviate the boredom. The only tasks for Yelena and himself were to monitor the recorders and make sure there were no issues — and to switch the feeds when appropriate.

Their flight path was almost ruler straight once they left the atmosphere. The main engines fired non-stop, accelerating them for just shy of one-hundred-and-five minutes, one-and-three-quarters of an hour. That put them halfway to the moon, 200,000 kilometres from Earth.

This was the turnover point, where the ship rotated to point the main engines towards the moon. Although it was fun to get out of his seat and stretch in zero-gravity, it didn’t provide much excitement. The pre-programmed computer took care of everything, perfectly.

Then came hundred and five minutes of deceleration that left them almost stationary compared to the moon, only a few kilometres above the south-pole surface. From there, they began a slow drift downwards to touchdown — a vertical landing, of course.

The anticipation as they closed in on the moon made him almost giddy. He was pleased to note that he wasn’t he only one, although the other three did a better job of hiding their excitement. The suppressed excitement echoed from the communications systems at BNSC and ESA.

The landing was as smooth as silk. Like clockwork, the RCS thrusters fired in the proper sequence as the main engines severely cut back and the space plane began to drop to the surface. At three hundred metres, the shuttle transitioned from a vertical, on-its-tail, position to horizontal. The RCS down motors fired up and gently began lowering them as the wheels came out of their respective housings.

At the same time, the bottom facing cameras came on to present the pilot and co-pilot with a view of the ground below them. The lights in the wheel-wells were more than adequate in providing the illumination needed to eliminate any shadows.

Fortunately, unlike the first yank landing on the moon, the Baker didn’t have to take last-second control to prevent landing on a boulder and crashing to the surface. Instead, they settled gently to the ground and the engines shutdown.

The silence after so many hours of the thrusters left his ears ringing.

“Yes!” he loudly exclaimed, pumping his right arm.

Almost immediately, Oscar said, “Lady and gentlemen, welcome to the Moon!”

Now came the fun parts of the mission. Fun, but tedious, once they got over the excitement of being on the moon and jumping around a bit.

The next sixteen hours were carefully choreographed.

Soil samples were taken from many different locations, a seismometer was set up, a surface magnetometer, a solar wind spectrometer, an atmospheric composition detector, a lunar interior heat-flow detector, and finally, a radioisotope thermoelectric generator. These were similar to experiments that had been deployed by the yanks’ Apollo missions decades ago, and most were no longer operational. The data from these new, and more sensitive, experiments would be compared to the previous sets for discrepancies and new data. The scientists hoped for a deeper understanding of the physical processes on the Moon.

They also took extensive photographs, and gathered and tagged any rocks or soil samples that looked interesting. The definition for both was rather nebulous. Their goal was to bring back approximately hundred and eighty-two kilos of material, or four hundred and one pounds. One hundred pounds each for the ESA, U.K., and Russia. Equestria would get one hundred and one pounds, because this couldn’t have happened without their contacting the British government last summer.

The soil and rock samples would tell them how different the Lunar pole sections were from the equatorial sections explored by the yanks. Whether they were different or not would answer many questions about the formation of the moon and how it had changed over the billions of years it had existed. Naturally, as in most experiments, the results would probably raise more questions that they answered.

It didn’t sound like a lot when listed, but placing each experiment took time, and several required pieces to be buried in the soil. While they were placing these various items, they were scouting for a good spot for Lunar Habitat Module.

Their final decision for the Modules placement, with help from the ESA, was about two kilometres away, at the base of a tall peak in a crater wall. The peak would be the mount for their solar panels. Moving the Buran the short distance, no more than a brief hop, was easy.

By the time final lift-off arrived, they were all looking forward to the nap they could take on the way back.

The space plane inserted itself into a twelve-hour elliptical orbit around the Earth. It went from a low of five hundred kilometres to a high of forty thousand — a Molniya orbit. Once a day, the low was over England and gave any trained wizard a short window of about ten minutes to apparate to the craft. Portkeys, of course, would work at any time.

“Does everyone have their translocator ready?” Thomas asked, as he looked at the other three. The ship was on stand-by now, a low-power mode that kept the ship barely about five degrees above Centigrade zero. This would be a test of the how well the ship would perform over an extended time in space, and how long it would take to make it habitable when it returned to service.

The translocators were, of course, actually portkeys with an activation knob. It had to be opened, the knob inside twisted, and then firmly pressed. An awkward procedure when wearing spacesuit gloves. Deliberately so, in fact, to prevent accidental activation.

Their hoard of Lunar soil and rocks in its sealed steel box had already been sent down with a separate “translocator.” It had used a mechanical timer to trigger it.

All four were suit-sealed at this point, and on the lower deck under the command deck.

“Just like the tests at the EAC, this’ll drop us into a pool. Oscar goes first, Yelena goes second in thirty seconds, Vicktor third, and I’ll go last. Right?” They nodded. As the expert on the Special Technology, Thomas was in command.

“Buran to Ground Control,” Thomas said, hitting the ship’s transmit toggle on the wall. “First translocation in five seconds. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

Oscar twisted and pushed the portkey control on his waistbelt, and disappeared.

“Ground Control to Buran, Flight Commander Baker has arrived.”

The other two disappeared on schedule.

While he was waiting for his “translocation,” Thomas quickly cast a notice-me-not on the shuttle. They didn’t want any spy satellites getting a closer look, not just yet, at least. Nor did they want a satellite to drop off a tracking package of any kind.

Later, after the performance test, they would cancel the spell, and then remotely fly the shuttle home and prepare it for its next mission.

Next year summer, the Buran would land on Mars.

If things continued at the current pace, it wasn’t impossible that in ten years the Buran would arrive in the Alpha Centauri system.

Author's Notes:

My Ko-fi account is available if you like this story.

If Wishes Were Ponies, Book II
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Ch. 08. Starting with Nothing

The five humans in the meeting room stiffened. The Prime Minister and the Home and Foreign secretaries looked alarmed.

Princess Sparkle and Prince Blueblood looked glum and worried. She took a breath and sighed. “Several weeks ago . . .”

The humans exchanged alarmed looks.

“. . . three ponies pretending to be doctors went through the portal. They had a forged a letter stating they were wanted at the Embassy. They passed through no fewer than five points where they were checked for being Changelings, and they passed easily. However, reviewing the memories of the event from the guards who saw them, we now know they somehow managed to cast a spell that prevented them from being checked for illusions. Illusions not cast with Changeling magic.” She stopped, pulled out her wand, and tapped the table. On top of the table appeared the exit side of the portal — a corridor with a door to either side.

There was a brief flash of light as three people fell to the floor. Wearing the robes for transition, it was difficult to get a detailed look at them, especially as they fell to the floor in a pile. They heard a voice say, “Please remain calm, I’ll help you stand up.” Simultaneously, the group appeared to . . . ripple. A second later, three men stood up, without a trace of clumsiness.

“Thank you for your help,” one said loudly as he stood. “As you can see, we’re fine,” he continued firmly. “Everything is the way it should be. We can handle the dressing rooms by ourselves, no need to worry yourself about us.”

The three separated, two were women, they now saw, and the other, the one who had spoken, was a man.

The Princess tapped the table again, then things started going backwards very slowly. She stopped it at the moment they had looked up. “Take a good look at their faces,” she said dryly. The replay slowly started forward.

He could only see two clearly, and his first impression was of children. The faces weren’t as . . . mature . . . as they should be for men or women. Then the ripple swept over them . . . and they were two men and a woman.

“I think that flash of light was a spell being cast, a confundus as the unicorn on duty failed to cast the two spells he was supposed to cast at this point. The confundus as its name implies makes one confused. Someone hit with that spell becomes confused, overly forgetful, and prone to follow simple orders without thinking about them.” She glanced at them to make sure they understood the implications.

“Notice how almost immediately after this, the appearances of the three change.”

It was true, Castor saw, the three suddenly looked older.

“Listen carefully,” she said, and sped up the replay to normal speed for a few moments. “The first statement, causes the one confunded to look to the caster for clues on what is happening and what to do. Note the words ‘we’re fine,’ with emphasis on the word fine. Similarly, the sentence, ‘Everything is the way it should be.’ Those, together with the ending that he shouldn’t worry about them, were all that was need to completely derail any suspicions the unicorn had, and prevented him from noticing the illusions just cast.”

She shook her head as the replay sped up for a few moments as the three dressed in the dressing rooms. She stopped when they exited, to give the men in the room a chance to study the two women and man revealed.

She took another deep breath. “They maintained this appearance all through the Embassy, and passed five more changeling checkpoints. No one thought to check for illusions, as the three were exiting the portal, not entering. If they had been using Changeling magic for the illusions, they would have immediately been detected.” She shook her head. “That, in conjunction with the confundus, leads me to conclude that they used a wand.

“They never showed their letter again, and simply walked out the front door. It’s clear they did extensive research, because they simply went into the night at that point. They knew what to expect, and acted accordingly. I’m sure the illusions we saw were discarded as soon as they were out of sight of the Embassy.

“I have a folder of the prominent points of what happened for you to examine in detail, as well as a video.” She levitated two folders and two video cartridges out of her briefcase. She slid one set to each of the Secretaries.

“I never expected someone on the Equestrian side of the portal to be using wanded-magic to elude the protections. I’ve written up my conclusions and what we intend to do to prevent this in the future.

“In short, we will be installing spells on all the doors and passages that perform the same as the changeling detection spells but also detect wanded illusions, then dispel them and stun the user. We will, of course, supply you with the new spells for your use in your own buildings.”

“As to those three? The only conclusion I can make it that they aren’t changelings. Because we don’t know what any of the other species on Equestria look like when they transit the portal, I can’t make a determination, at this point, that would exclude any of them. However, based on how well they knew our protection systems, they must know this was a one-way trip for them.”

She sighed and looked down dejectedly.

“Especially, as they must have known, someone eventually would have noticed that the three didn’t register at the Embassy and didn’t come back through. And we would close those loopholes.” She looked back up at the Prime Minister. “As we have.”

She floated a second set of fist-thick folders out of her briefcase. “Here are summaries of all the other species in Equestria that might have been able to steal a wand and might be able to use it well enough to cast an effective illusion — if they knew how.”

The next morning, Harry abruptly woke as Ginny, Hermione, and his herd-mates hopped onto his bed. They dragged him into his trunk and insisted on waiting in his sitting-room as he showered and dressed for the day. As they again exited the trunk, the sounds of pandemonium reached them from the common room. A quick dash down the stairs to see what was wrong showed him just what he should have expected to find wrong.

He finally had managed to train the Cutie Mark Crusaders, last year, to get dressed before they left their rooms. He was sure that Hermione and Ginny had been a big part of that. Unfortunately, the other Equestrians had not had anyone as adamant about that subject while they stayed at their houses on the Embassy grounds. As a result, the common room had several of the firsties wandering around without any clothes, and not understanding what the fuss from the other students was all about.

It didn’t help that the Equestrian girls had builds that put to shame many of the fourth-year girls. The wizards were awestruck. So were many of the witches, except they were also intensely jealous.

Harry could only put his face in his hands. He could just imagine the same scene playing out in the other three Houses. He knew, he knew, that there would be yet another rule added to the list by the Gryffindor entrance. No, a whole set of rules.

Many of the other rules that had, heretofore, only needed to be applied to Gryffindor, would soon be imposed on the other Houses, he realized. If they already hadn’t been, already.

Harry chewed his lower lip for a moment as he ran his hand through his hair. On second thought, he should probably advise them to add another rule, just to forestall any extreme reactions from the Equestrians if they happened to take a really good look into the Forbidden Forest.

With the help of his herd-mates, he managed to convince the other Equestrians to get back up the stairs, and to get dressed in their school robes for the rest of the day.

No sooner did the last grumbling girl hit the stairs, then a pegasus came gliding down the boy’s’ staircase with a gleeful, “squeeee!” Behind him came a running unicorn, complaining loudly, “No fair! You’re cheating!” The unicorn skidded to halt at the foot of the stairs as he realized everyone was staring at him. The pegasus shot up to the ceiling, hoping to evade attention. Harry studied them with narrowed eyes. “I hope you two are wearing your robes,” he said scowling. “If not, you’re going to have to go up and get them!”

Almost as fast as they had descended, the two went back up the stairs.

Harry sighed, and plopped down onto a couch. “Breakfast is going to be just smashing,” he said sarcastically. The girls settled around him, with Hermione and Ginny both agreeing. They remembered the difficulties of getting the fillies to cooperate last year. Only, this year, the Equestrians outnumbered the witches for the firsties.

Unfortunately, to everyone’s dismay — and especially the Gryffindor second-years — the portraits and paintings were now spelled to prevent anyone from using the book-walking spell on them. No more illicit escapes from the dormitories after curfew, or sneaking around the castle where no one could find them. There was also the issue that the spell and paintings had neatly bypassed the security on the girls’ side of the dormitories.

It was disappointing. However, such a severe security hole as that, had to be fixed as quickly as possible, Harry knew. The older students seemed especially upset about that, for some reason.

Well, it had been fun while it lasted.

He was right. A number of the firsties had managed to escape their common rooms without the benefit of clothing, and the reactions as they entered the Great Hall ranged from outraged and shocked, to stunned staring. None had even guessed at how well-developed the Equestrian girls were.

Several tried to make it to their House tables as ponies, only to have their Head of House redirect them. The Professorial Aides were put to good use in escorting the miscreants back to their Houses and ensuring they understood the proper dress protocol expected at all meals!

The uproar lasted all through the meal. The owls arriving with the things some students had forgotten, or last-minute additions their parents thought they should have, didn’t help.

Somehow, the professors managed to get the students their schedules.

It being Wednesday, their first class was Double Herbology, with the Hufflepuffs.

Professor Sprout was a squat witch with a large amount of earth on her clothes. She had flyaway hair on which she had perched a floppy wide-brimmed hat. “Greenhouse Three, chaps,” she said cheerfully as they approached the greenhouses that were her domain.

That was a surprise. They had only been in Greenhouse One, last year. The higher the number, the more dangerous the Greenhouse, the upper-years had always said. Somewhat cautiously, the herd entered the greenhouse with the rest of the class.

Soon, everyone had entered and was standing in front of a large trestle bench. Oddly, there were ear-muffs on the trestle in a veritable rainbow of colours. With eleven Hufflepuffs and fourteen Gryffindors, there were twenty-five sets of them.

“This year’s major project is Mandrakes,” she said briskly. “We’ll start by repotting them.”

What followed was a brief lecture on the properties of the Mandrakes and several warnings on how dangerous they were. Apparently, the full-grown ones screamed as they were re-potted, and the screams were lethal, hence the ear-muffs. Even the small ones in the current pots could knock you out for several hours. They all quickly grabbed a pair and placed them over their ears. As soon as she saw they were ready for the next part, she grabbed the leaves coming from one small pot on the table, and yanked.

The sight of an ugly brown, almost black, wooden baby instead of the muddy roots he had been expecting was a shock to Harry. He could see that most of the other students were also surprised.

She plopped the baby into a larger pot, then quickly and efficiently buried him in the readied compost.

“There now!” she declared after removing her own earmuffs and indicating they could do so, too. “We have a hundred more to do, four to a tray. Mark your names on the trays, those will be the ones you’re responsible for this year.” She gave a smile to the Harry and his herd-mates. “Pots are over there,” she pointed. “Compost, there,” she pointed again. “Be sure to wear your ear-muffs at all times.” She paused a second. “Oh, beware of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.” She absentmindedly slapped the vine that was stretching towards her.

They spread out around the table.

For the next hour and a half, they were busy wrestling the little beggars out of pots they didn’t want to release, and into pots they clearly didn’t like. What the professor had made look simple and easy, wasn’t. Most of them struggled to accomplish the task without getting bit, scratched, or both. Not surprisingly, Apple Bloom and Ron seemed to do it the easiest and quickest. Their mandrakes seemed almost happy to oblige them!

Finally, they had twenty-five trays of pots completed. The two earth ponies who were her aides were a big help at keeping an eye on everyone.

However, that didn’t stop two of the students falling victim to the Venomous Tentacula sneaking a vine around their necks without them, or the Professor, noticing until the last second.

Fortunately, Professor Sprout let them leave the Greenhouse as soon as their task was complete. That gave them extra time to rush back to their dorms for a quick shower and still make it their next class. Harry knew Professor McGonagall wouldn’t have liked it if they had traipsed into her Transfigurations class looking, and smelling, as if they had just rolled in dragon dung.

Minerva McGonagall was a tall, bespectacled witch with her hair in a tight bun. After welcoming them back, she said, “These are my Professorial Aides for this class,” and indicated the wizard and witch beside her. “Mr. Bole will be teaching the Monday class and Miss Applesauce will be assisting in both classes.” As if her name weren’t enough of a clue, the witch’s bright green hair told everyone she was an Atlantean.

The class itself was a bit boring, Harry thought. The goal today was turning a beetle into a button. That was something they all could do last year. Not surprisingly, they did quite well. Probably because almost everyone in Gryffindor had visited Equestria at least once over the hols and had had a chance to practice magic there. By the end of the class, with a little assistance from the PAs, everyone easily succeeded. Not only didn’t the buttons have any indications that they once had been beetles, everyone was changing multiple beetles, simultaneously, into buttons!

He did remember to pass on his concerns to Professor McGonagall about what might happen if any of the new Equestrian students happened to catch a glimpse of either a unicorn or centaur in the Forbidden Forest. McGonagall was, after all their Head of House. He knew the Equestrian firsties had all been warned the previous month that unicorns and centaurs were to be found in the Forbidden Forest, but he knew they first time they saw either one, they would panic. At least none of them would faint. Maybe.

Lunch was next. Harry noted that the firsties’ end of the table was especially loaded with vegetarian and fish selections. As she had at breakfast, Hermione immediately pulled out a book, Voyages with Vampires. Unlike this morning, instead of just reading it, she disappeared inside it. Harry had to shake his head. They all had read the books at least once since they had purchased them. As stories of his adventures, they were quite entertaining, if you ignored the many pages on personal grooming and fashion. As texts for a DADA class? He wasn’t so sure. The herd had already noted that at least two of the books took place on opposite sides of the world at the same time, yet neither book explained or mentioned the overlap.

After filling up with as much as they could eat, they retired to the front courtyard. Hermione again disappeared into her book with the book-walking spell. Looking around the courtyard, Harry could see that she wasn’t the only witch pulling out one of the seven DADA books. Notably, none of the wizards were doing that. Neither were the Equestrian witches.

That was when Harry got to meet his most ardent male fanboy.

The boy’s face was almost beet-red as he came over to the little group. He stopped by them and took a deep breath. “All right, Harry?” he said breathlessly, “I’m — I’m Colin Creevey.” He took a tentative step closer. “I was wondering . . . would it be all right, would you mind, if . . . if I took a picture?” he said hopefully, raising his camera.

Harry sighed. “Well,” he said hesitantly, and looked at his friends and herd-mates. While it didn’t happen often, even in Equestria he sometimes had someone come over and ask if they could take a picture. Since he had been adopted by Twilight, and her status as a Princess, it had brought him a bit of notoriety. Not even the Ponyville residents were immune.

Prince Blueblood had told him that unless they were interrupting something important, intruding where they shouldn’t, or being a nuisance, he should always try to accommodate the commoners with pictures and autographs. If you were going to be in the public’s eye, the least you could do was not make enemies of them

The last thing you wanted, he had said, was to alienate ponies for no good reason. Plus, word that you were pleasant with commoners got around, and made them less likely to believe the nasty rumours that papers tended to print from time to time.

It made it harder for the papers to make you out as a villain when everyone you met, except the nobles and reporters, said good things about you to their friends.

“It’s so I can prove I’ve met you,” said Colin Creevey eagerly, nodding and edging closer. “I know all about you,” he explained confidently, and went on for few more sentences to prove he did know a bit about Harry. “Plus, I haven’t done it yet, but a fifth-year said the pictures’ll move if I use the right potion on the film!” And then explained why he wanted the pictures — to prove to his surprised parents that Hogwarts was real, that Harry Potter-Sparkle was real. Then he looked imploringly at Harry and half-begged, “Maybe I could stand next to you, you know, and one of your — herd-mates? — could take it? And then, maybe, after I develop it, you could sign it?” He paused briefly. “And I could make copies for your mother?”

Harry had waited patiently for the nervous boy to finish, but before he could say anything, his least favourite wizard made an appearance.

“Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?” There was more than a hint of disbelieving outrage in the tones.

It was Draco Malfoy.

Crabbe and Goyle, as always when Draco was at Hogwarts, stood beside and slightly behind him. They tried to appear threatening with their large sizes, but at this point in life, they merely looked overweight and slightly constipated. Harry suspected the trio were in a relationship, even though they vociferously denied it the few times Harry and the fillies had acknowledged it.

Harry hadn’t realized the wizard had even come outside.

Malfoy looked around at the scattered students enjoying the sun, and loudly proclaimed, “Everyone line up!” He waved his arms indicating everyone should come up. “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!” He turned back to Harry and sneered.

Harry shook his head wryly. Apparently, he had either forgotten, or hadn’t meant, his attempt at a friendship. For an ambitious, clever, and sneaky Slytherin, Draco was a dismal failure.

“Malfoy,” he said dryly as he stood up, “You don’t understand at all, do you? Colin, here,” he turned to the smaller boy, “You don’t mind if I call you Colin, do you?” he said quietly.

The boy excitedly shook his head. “No! No, not at all.”

“You can call me Harry, then.” He turned back to Malfoy. “Colin, here,” he nodded to the grinning boy, “has offered to take pictures of me and my herd-mates to send to our families in exchange for a few pictures for his parents.” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Wouldn’t your parents appreciate a picture of you standing with the main castle entrance in the background? Or wouldn’t you like a picture to commemorate your time at school with . . . friends? Hmm?” He gave a significant look to Crabbe and Goyle.

Malfoy was staring at him, puzzled and surprised that he hadn’t gotten a rise out of the other. His boyfriends were exchanging their glances and from their expressions he saw they realized their parents didn’t have any photographs of them at school.

He turned to Colin. “How much does a roll of film and developing cost, Colin?”

Surprised, Colin had to think. He frowned in concentration. “Ah, six sickles for a thirty-six roll? Maybe a galleon for the potion? Then the cost of the parchment? I’m not sure . . ..”

Harry nodded as he did the math in his head. “Alright, that’ll do for a start. If you fall short, I’ll front you the costs, don’t worry.” It wasn’t likely. If he had the math right, the film and developing cost was about twenty-two pounds — four galleons, six sickles, and twenty-three knuts — and thirty-six pictures at five sickles each would double that. A good return on his time and effort.

He took a deep breath. “HEY EVERYBODY!” he shouted. “FOR FIVE SICKLES, COLIN WILL TAKE A PICTURE OF YOU WITH THE CASTLE IN THE BACKGROUND. A GREAT CHRISTMAS PRESENT FOR YOUR PARENTS! IF YOU’RE INTERESTED COME HERE!”

Everyone was staring at him. He gestured at his friends, who had all slowly gotten to their feet with Malfoy’s intrusion. He turned back to Colin, who had a slightly shell-shocked expression.

A line quickly formed, mostly filled with Equestrians, at first. Colin started with pictures of Harry and Harry and his herd-mates, both individually, together, and as ponies. Then he handed the camera to Hermione and she took a couple of him with Harry, in both forms as well.

Then he started on everyone else.

Unfortunately, Colin had brought only one extra roll of film. He was about to apologize that he didn’t have enough to do everyone here, right now, when Hermione volunteered to take pictures while he ran back to the dorm for more film. When Colin got back, a seventh year volunteered to duplicate the rolls to increase his supply. Colin would have the film developed and the photographs made long before the film dispelled itself.

Malfoy glared at his boyfriends when they joined the line. Goyle shrugged his shoulders and said, “Mum would love a photo,” as Crabbe nodded beside him.

A rather large number asked if Harry would join them for a picture, as long as he was there.

Colin was focused entirely on picture taking, so Harry’s only warning that things were about to change was when Hermione and Ginny suddenly sported silly smiles while looking slightly to one side.

“What’s all this?” he heard behind him and to one side.

When he turned and looked, he saw it was Gilderoy Lockhart, again dressed in his baby-blue robes, headed towards them. He had a toothy smile and his turquoise robes swirled behind him, almost like Professor Snape’s did, but a lot less like a giant bat. “Who’s giving out signed photos?”

Harry watched the wizard approach and remembered his attempts to grab Harry at the bookstore. He dodged behind Hermione. “Colin, here,” he said, “Has offered to take pictures of anyone who wanted to send one to their parents. Almost none of us have a picture we can send our parents of us at Hogwarts.” He shrugged. “For some reason,” and he well-knew what it was but it would be vulgar to say it out loud, “some of them want a picture of me with them.”

“Did he, now?” the Professor said, giving the boy an evaluating look as he lined up a shot for his next customer. Hermione had volunteered to write down the names and Houses of those who had wanted a picture and how many were taken. He was on his fifth roll. Harry was rather impressed with just how well the duplication spell was working and wanted to learn it.

Lockhart adroitly manoeuvred around Hermione as he said, “Well then, Mr. Creevey,” beaming at the boy. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and pulled him close. “A double portrait of England’s top two celebrities would be quite the thing, wouldn’t it now? We’ll both sign it for you!”

Harry had to admit, the wizard was smooth. Objecting would cause an unnecessary scene. He smiled a smile he knew was fake, but would do for the moment. They moved over in front of Colin as his previous subject moved off.

After the picture was taken, Harry enthusiastically said, “You know, I bet there are a lot of students who would love to have a picture of themselves with you!” The witches in the audience around them visibly brightened at the prospect. And crowded a bit closer as they hopefully looked up at the vain wizard, wanting him to say yes.

Harry slipped to one side as Lockhart looked over the witches staring at him worshipfully. Harry nudged Hermione forward, taking the scroll from her hands and handing it a nearby witch with a casual, “Here, would you take care of this, please?” It worked rather well. After both Ginny and Hermione had had their pictures taken with the wizard, Harry and the herd managed to sneak away from the crowd. They headed for the castle, the two girls giggling happily at the thought of their personal pictures.

The cutie mark crusaders just shrugged. His “dreamy” appearance, as Scootaloo put it, didn’t appeal to them as much as it did the witches. Nor did having signed copies of a book they didn’t care about matter that much.

Professor Lockhart was late to their first class of Defence Against the Dark Arts, class, which Harry found vastly amusing. It was also his first class, too.

However, he quickly captured the classes’ attention. Like their other professors, Lockhart started by giving them a test — but it was on himself, amazingly. What was his favourite colour, what was his favourite food, when was his birthday? — those were just a few of the questions on both sides of the parchments he handed out. Halfway through the questions, disgusted, Harry started writing nonsensical answers. This had nothing to do with DADA. His books had been interesting, but the information about the creatures seemed a bit suspect — werewolves were notoriously powerful, more than strong enough to defeat a wizard in hand-to-hand fighting. Yet, he claimed to have fought one off long enough to cast a spell — a spell that no one else seemed to know that would force a werewolf back to a man or woman. Such a spell should have been in regular use for the years since that book was written! Harry knew Remus Lupine, his godfather’s friend, would have loved to have that spell at hand every full-moon.

Of course, now it wasn’t needed. The werewolves visiting Equestria were well on their way to making the werewolf curse a thing of the past.

Then Lockhart went through the papers quickly right in front of the class, giving a running commentary on answers some had missed. He gave Harry a curious look when he reached his parchment, his smile going to a slight wrinkling of his forehead, before he continued on.

Most of the class earned points for their answers, as book-walking made it easy to memorize. And everyone, at least the girls, that is, had read the books cover to cover before school had started, at least once. Hermione was on her fourth or fifth read-through, Harry thought. Plus, unlike their other dry and boring text-books that simply recited fact after fact, Lockhart’s books were actually interesting! They might not contact much hard facts, but they were a fascinating read.

Then, as he carefully placed the parchments in a drawer, he said, “Now to business.” He leaned over and carefully lifted a large, covered, square cage onto his desk.

He gave them a solemn look, “Be warned!” he said gravely, “In this class you will learn about the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! Your worst fears might appear in in front of you.” He swept a glance across the room. “It is my job to prepare you to face those dangers.” Then he smiled. “Be assured, however, that you are safe with me. No permanent harm can befall you whilst I am here.”

The class watched apprehensively as Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Harry and the fillies gave each other quite glances. They gripped their wands and prepared themselves for something unpleasant.

“I ask you all to not disclose what you’re about to see.” He glanced ominously around the room. “It would spoil the lesson when I present it to the other classes.”

Harry and the girls exchanged discomfited glances. That wasn’t an ominous statement, now was it?

Author's Notes:

Lockhart might be an amoral S.O.B., but he isn’t stupid! He wouldn’t have been able to pull off his book scam if he were. That sort of thing takes deviousness, close attention to detail, and long-term planning. While he might not be a competent DADA professor, the standard spells everyone uses day-to-day would be well-within his skill set — or he never would have passed his OWLs to use a wand, much less passed his NEWTs. While he may not know how to fix bones, he should certainly be able to manage episkey, for example, without a problem. Otherwise, it would be like you forgetting how to read books without big pictures, or how to count to hundred after mastering pre-calculus.

Ch. 09. More Surprises

“Be vewy, vewy quiet,” said Lockhart in a half-whisper, holding a vertical finger to his lips. “We don’t want to upset them.” He gave a small self-satisfied laugh, “Heh-heh-heh-heh!”

No one dared to breathe as Lockhart whipped off the cover off the cage in a single, smooth action.

“Yes!” he said theatrically, waving the hand without the cover. “Freshly caught Cornish Pixies!”

Harry was unsure of how to take the man’s odd pronouncement. Harry had the inane thought of, “Was he a pegasus fish-hawker?” cross his mind. Still, they didn’t look all that dangerous, and the encyclopaedia on creatures that his mum had bought referred to them as pests that were easily handled.

The pixies were small, only about eight inches high. They were electric blue and had pointed faces. Their voices were shrill and unpleasant. They were like human versions of the breezies back home, except . . . violent and menacing. As soon as they saw the class, they started chattering and zooming around their cage. They rattled the metal door and made scary faces at everyone who looked at them.

Seamus Finnigan, who should have known better, let out a snort of laughter.

“Yes?” Lockhart turned and smiled at Seamus.

There was something a bit sinister about the smile, Harry thought. What does he know that we don’t?

“Well, they’re not — they’re not very — dangerous, are they?” Seamus managed to choke out between snickers.

“Are you sure?” said Lockhart, waggling a finger, his other hand on his waist. “Appearances can be deceiving, after all!” he said, nodding his head slightly as he spoke.

Harry remembered the story his mum had told him about the parasprites that had eaten Ponyville — they had looked harmless, and ponies had even wanted to make them pets! These pixies did not look harmless. Anything but harmless, actually. He was starting to get nervous, and his herd-mates were echoing his anxiety, he could see. He palmed his wand in his lap, and nudged his herd-mates to either side. He made a point of looking down at his wand when they looked at him.

“Ready?” Lockhart said loudly, smirking. “Let’s see what you make of these not very dangerous creatures!” He yanked open the cage with a flourish, and stepped back against the wall. Harry immediately cast the strongest protection shield he could between the oncoming pixies and himself and his herd-mates. Sweetie Belle cast hers a moment later, covering their heads. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were a bit slower, but seeing what their herd-mates had done, they quickly covered their sides. Hermione beat Ginny to covering their backs. Then they took a moment to survey the classroom.

Chaos. Sheer chaos. Discord would have loved it. In fact, Harry had a feeling he might be watching right now, with popcorn. Heh, he had probably been watching every class with the pixies. He might even have invited Pinkie Pie.

The pixies were everywhere, moving so rapidly they were almost blurs. Several had seized Neville by the ears and his robes and were hoisting him up. Several were floating, dazed, by the back window. The windows had clearly been reinforced to prevent their escape. The rest were trying, and succeeding, at wrecking the classroom. Ink bottles were flying, spraying the class with their contents; pages from shredded books and parchments were drifting like giant snowflakes; pictures from the wall were flying like Frisbees; one student was wearing the up-ended waste basket; and rucksacks, their contents, and books flew everywhere. Half the class was unsuccessfully trying to hide under their desks while the others were huddled together in corners. Poor Neville was clutching desperately to the swinging iron chandelier in the ceiling. It was creaking ominously.

Professor Lockhart had his back to the wall at the front of the room, and used his wand to swat any pixies that came close, flinging the pests across the room. “Come now — they aren’t dangerous, are they?” he taunted. “Round them up, they’re only harmless pixies,” Lockhart gleefully shouted.

The man was a bit sadistic, Harry thought approvingly. The DADA professor should be scaring the pants off his students.

Hermione nodded to Ginny, dropped her shield, and began sniping the little monsters with a freezing spell as Ginny did the same to any pixie that approached Hermione. Following her lead, the other four crowded closer together and dropped their shields. Then they started sweeping the pixies out of the air, and banishing their frozen or stunned victims into the cage.

The rest of the class, seeing what they were doing, pitched in, and soon they were pixie-free.

“So,” Professor Lockhart said into the silent room full of panting, shocked students, and grinned broadly. “Still think pixies are not very dangerous?” He paused a second. “For harmless creatures, they sure routed you bunch, didn’t they?” He said, gloating a little.

The iron chandelier crashed to the ground in front of his desk, with Neville landing beside it.

“That was . . . pitiful,” the professor said, shaking his head. “Start putting things to right!” He ordered and waved his wand at the chandelier, saying loudly, “reparo!” It rose up to the ceiling and reattached itself. That left Neville on the floor, groaning and rubbing his head. Lockhart looked at the rest of the class. “Well?” he said, hands on his waist.

Five minutes later, the damage was repaired and the students were once more taking their seats.

“Right,” Lockhart said firmly, leaning back against his table. “First, five points to each of the animagi for reacting first and quickest.” The girls all blushed. “Second, what did you all do wrong?”

What followed was a discussion on how they had underestimated the swarm of pixies. Yes, one pixie wasn’t much of an issue, but thirty? They discussed how they could have done things differently, how they should have reacted, and what might have been good tactics to use.

As they were leaving the classroom after the bell, Lockhart added, “Remember, don’t tell anyone what happened! We wouldn’t want to give an advantage to the others, now would we?”

Harry could hear the enthusiasm in his voice at the prospect of humiliating more students who thought the pixies offered no challenge. His concluding laugh was disturbingly evil sounding.

He had an almost grudging admiration for the wizard’s antics.

It was, without a doubt, the most interesting and informative class they had ever had. There were no doubts that they all would remember that lesson: just because a creature doesn’t look dangerous doesn’t mean it can’t hurt you, now does it?

However, that was their last class of the day, they had the rest free until tea, and they took advantage of it.

They headed out to the lawn. It was a wonderful late afternoon in the sun, and fit their desire to ignore assignments. They could easily handle those, after tea, with a little Book-walking for refresh their memories, and then writing out the results of that. They would finish before lights-out without difficulties.

In the meantime, they would bask in the warmth while it was still available. It wasn’t long before Ginny and Scootaloo noticed several pegasi swooping overhead, and shot up to join them. The trebuchets were making a steady swoosh as they flung students out over the lake — all the firsties were enthralled at that new recreation. The giant squid was fishing them out of the water and flinging them back towards land —making sure they hit the water and not the shore, of course. Several of the pegasi were transforming while in the air and performing loops, stoops, and spirals.

They could see Colin by the large crowd that had gathered around him. This time he was doing his shooting where the castle was in the background, not just the entrance courtyard. Harry was amused to see several students wanting repeats, with their friends in the picture, too. The little wizard was going to be making some serious money with his little hobby. Not to mention the connections he was making. Not that he would realize that for a few years.

Then Luna came over, having finally found them. Someone had given her sunglasses which was probably the only reason why she was outside. Otherwise, it would have been painfully bright for her nocturnally-adapted eyes.

They took turns, and the rest of the afternoon, teaching her how to initiate her animagus form and return. Once she succeeded, she was again swarmed by ponies and people admiring her crystal-appearing fur and skin, and the way she glittered and shone, especially when flying.

Then it was back to the Gryffindor dorm to freshen up for dinner.

As Harry had suspected, there were two new rules* posted beside the entrance, on the inside.

12. All students are to remain fully clothed outside of their dorms.
..a) and outside of the bathrooms in their own dorms.
..b) and said clothing is to include underwear.
..c) Students are not allowed to attend class in animagus forms to get around the requirement to be dressed.

13. Students are not allowed to summon the Equestrian Royal Guard to detain the inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest.
..a) The Centaurs are not going to drain anybody’s magic.
..b) YES! WE ARE ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN CENTAURS DO NOT STEAL PEOPLE’S MAGIC
..c) OR PONIES’ MAGIC.
..d) No pony, person, or other creature is allowed to approach any of the Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest for any reason whatsoever on penalty of being suspended from Hogwarts and sent home for one week.
..e) Yes, we know there are unicorns in the forest. No, they do not need the Equestrian Royal Guard to protect them from the Centaurs.

They were not long into their evening meal when the Headmaster and his mum came through the open Great Hall doors. He had expected her to show up today; after all he had sent Hedwyg off with a letter last night before curfew. He knew she would want to know right away about Discord’s mischief. His only surprise was in that she hadn’t immediately shown up this morning!

He stood and waved when she started looking around the hall to find him. While she knew which table belonged to Gryffindor, she didn’t know exactly where he was at the table. That, and she could no longer just look for the bright hair colours of his herd-mates as distinguishing features, considering all the other Equestrians at all the tables.

All the new Equestrians sort of interfered with that.

Smiling broadly, she headed for him, the Headmaster only a step behind. The moment she was close enough, they hugged. The three fillies quickly joined them. More hesitantly, so did Hermione and Ginny.

After exchanging greetings, his mum leaned back. “So, Discord?” she said, pulling her mouth to the side unhappily.

He grimaced, and turned to Luna, who was watching with wide eyes only a few seats away. “Mum, I’d like to introduce Luna Lovegood,” he said stepping over to her and uncurling his arm to present her to his mum. “Luna Lovegood, this is my mum, her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, Mistress of Magic, Bearer of the Element of Magic, Saviour of Equestria, Liberator of the Crystal Empire, Biggest Egghead Ever.”**

His mum glared at him, her hands on her hips.

He smirked. “Prince Blueblood says that proper etiquette must be followed for all introductions regarding royalty . . . and those are your titles, mum.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. With Princess Celestia making that last one part of her Royal title, there really wasn’t anything she could do about it — except complain. Rainbow still went into giggles every time she heard it. Then the Royal turned her attention to Luna. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lovegood.”

Luna blinked owlishly, then quickly scrambled from the bench and curtsied as she said, “The pleasure is all mine, your royal highness.” She straightened and nervously glance at Harry, and the Headmaster who was behind them all.

He grinned at her. “I sent an owl last night explaining how you got your animagus form.”

“Yes,” interrupted his mum, moving over to inspect Luna, craning her neck side to side. “Would you mind showing me? The Headmaster said we can use a room just down the hall from the Great Hall, here.”

Luna glanced at her plate, “Of course, your highness.”

“Excellent!” cried his mum. She glanced at the girl’s plate. The portions on the plate were quickly doubled from the nearby platters, then the plate and her juice goblet floated up. She turned, nodded to the Headmaster, and they started back towards the doors, the plate and glass floating over her head.

Harry quickly grabbed his own plate, scooped up a few extra helpings and his goblet, before following them. The girls were not far behind him. Just before they reached the doors, Myrtle joined them.

She was a part of the family, now, even if it wasn’t official. Seeing everyone else in the family was there, except Spike, she didn’t want to miss anything. If nothing else, it gave her some wonderful gossip — if it wasn’t private.

Almost at the same time, another person came trotting in — literally.

“Luna!” exclaimed his mum in surprise.

“Yes,” said the little Lovegood girl, looking over from the imposing visage that had just come in.

“You couldn’t have waited five minutes?” Princess Luna said, staring disapprovingly at Twilight, eye-to-eye. She was in her alicorn form, a deep-blue coat with a quarter-moon emblem on the black peytral on her chest. Her mane was a lighter blue, but sparkled and glittered as if tiny stars were embedded in it. Her crown was black as night.

The Hall behind them gasped at her appearance, but went silent.

His mum rolled her eyes. “Discord,” she said by way of explanation.

“Yes,” Luna said reflectively. “That would imply a bit of haste, We suppose,” she mused. “Is this the little witch with Our name?” she asked imperiously, looking at the only person in the group she hadn’t met.

Luna, the girl, stared at the giant pony with wide eyes.

Harry sighed. “This is Luna Lovegood,” again gently lifting uncurling his arm to indicate her with a sweeping gesture. “Luna Lovegood, this is Her Eternal Majesty, Princess Luna, Mistress of the Stars and Moon, Bringer of the Night, Guardian of Dreams and Destroyer of Nightmares, Bane of Evil, Defender and Grand General of the Realm, Matriarch of the Night Ponies, Monarch of Unicorns, Councillor of Earth Ponies, Commander of the Pegasi, and Co-ruler of Equestria and all Their Other Realms and Territories.”***

He was getting quite good at this sort of thing, he thought wryly. Blueblood would be pleased — and would still critique his stance and presentation.

Luna-the-girl stared a second, then shook herself. She curtsied once more. “A pleasure to meet you, your Majesty.”

Good, Harry thought, she had picked up on the “co-ruler” in the introduction.

“We shall see,” the Princess replied.

That wasn’t nearly as good.

The moment they were out of sight beyond the doors, the Hall broke into an excited chatter. Professor McGonagall came hurrying out to join them not a minute later. The volume of noise from the Great Hall rose even higher.

They quickly made their way to the same meeting room they had used last year when Twilight made her first impromptu visit, curtesy of Philomena.

It didn’t take long for Luna-the-girl to repeat the story of her encounter with the God of Chaos the previous day. Both Princesses paid close attention.

His mum hung on the girl’s every word, walking back and forth in front of the girl, asking questions.

Luna-the-pony spent the time stalking around the girl, examining her from every angle, with a spell or two added.

Then it was everyone else’s turn to explain what they had seen, and what they had told the girl about ponies.

His mum stopped and stared intently at the girl. “Would you please turn into your new form? Have you learned how to change back and forth, yet?” She transformed into her alicorn form.

Luna-the-girl’s eyes darted around at everyone watching. The Headmaster was smiling lightly, his eyes sparkling. Professor McGonagall was just watching curiously. Seeing the girl’s hesitation, she gave a small nod. Luna-the-girl slowly nodded back as the students all told how they had taught her how to transform-at-will earlier in the day.

A second later, there was the beautiful pony they had seen earlier.

Both Princesses were delighted and excited, and the diagnostic spells filled the air for a few minutes.

“Amazing,” breathed his mum. “You have the wings, ears, and eyes of a Night pony, but the Crystal pony attributes that make you translucent!”

Harry jolted slightly. He had noticed her eyes were faceted like a Crystal pony, but he hadn’t noticed that the they were slitted eyes, like a Night pony. Nor had he noticed how much larger than the other ponies her ears were — which was rather remarkable as they were almost as over-sized as a fennec fox’s. Her wings and crystal coat had been too distracting.

Princess Luna muttered a soft, “Remarkable, indeed,” and nodded.

“And it goes right down to the genetics,” his mum continued as she looked into the girl’s eyes. “Your pony children will be just as healthy as you are.”

“Say what you will about Discord,” Luna-the-pony said dryly, “but he does do good work.”

His mum sat back and frowned, deep in thought, while Luna-the-pony examined Luna-the-girl’s wings. She cooed at how pretty the filly looked, the feel of her wings’ membranes, and murmured about how so much like a regular Night Pony she was in overall build, if not appearance.

Twilight suddenly stood up. “Scoots, Sweetie, Bloom, would you all stand there?” She pointed to one side. “Myrtle, would you stand there?” She pointed to where she wanted the girl to stand. “Miss Lovegood? Would you return to your normal form?” She then cast a series of spells on Myrtle, Luna-the-girl, and the CMC fillies. She chewed her lower lip as she studied the results.

She turned to where Harry, Hermione, and Ginny had grouped. “Perfect! Just stay where you are.” And they were included in the next batch of spells.

She turned to Professor McGonagall. “Would you please stand there for a moment?” She pointed to a fourth spot, and repeated her spells. She sighed deeply. “Okay. Could you all take your animagus forms?” She swept her gaze across the entire group.

It was another round of spell casting on the various ponies and cat.

Twilight sat a moment longer, then started pacing. After a few moments, she stopped. “Albus? Is there someone else in the school who learned how to be an animagus in the traditional manner?”

Eyes sparkling, he said, “Why, yes, I believe there is . . ..” A moment later there was a goat standing where he had stood.

“A Nigerian Dwarf goat,” breathed Hermione in surprise.

“Excellent!” exclaimed his mum, again, and started casting spells.

“Now, change to your animagi forms?”

The only one left as a human in the room was Myrtle.

Finally, Twilight stopped. She turned to face Myrtle. “Would you like to be a unicorn, a pegasus, or an earth pony?”

Myrtle glanced around the room at the various ponies. Scootaloo and Ginny promptly spread their wings.

“Uh, a pegasus?” she said hesitantly.

Twilight nodded firmly. “Bear with me, this should only take a moment.” She stared at the girl intently. A glow began to suffuse the entire room. Harry felt . . . something . . . inside, for a very brief moment. His connection to when they had revived Myrtle?

There was a bright flash. When it faded, his mum was panting heavily, and a bit wobbly on her hooves. “Oh, that might have been a bit too much,” she slurred.

Princess Luna was at her side, instantly, a soft glow holding the purple pony upright. She sighed, “Twi,” she said exasperatedly. “Just because you figured it out doesn’t mean you should try it immediately. Next time, just show Us the spell, and We will do it. We have the power to spare.”

“Uh huh,” Twilight said sleepily, and yawned prodigiously.

The rest of them were staring at the new pegasus. “Oh, my,” she said quietly, then grinned, delighted. “It feels exactly like when I’m in Equestria!” She glanced at her wing as she stretched it out. “Except with wings!” She started tentatively flapping them and slowly rose a short distance above the floor. She let herself drop down as the other two pegasi rushed to her.

She ecstatically cantered in place, then sighed and abruptly returned to human. She turned to the other fillies. “Okay, how do I turn back?”

Princess Luna, still propping up Twilight, who was now snoring lightly, looked over at not-Princess-Luna. “We approve whole-heartedly of your animagus form. We shall have to see if that is also your form in Equestria. We suspect it might not be, that you might still have the unicorn form you have already exhibited.” She glanced at Dumbledore. “Just as the Headmaster is a unicorn in Equestria, yet he still retains his older animagus form.” She looked back at Luna-the-girl. “You and your family are invited to visit Us at Canterlot Palace this Hearth’s Warming holiday. In the meantime, We will send a Night Pony to help you adjust to your new senses and abilities.” She paused a moment, then said, “Fare the well,” as she turned to Albus, still a demiguise. “We will see Ourselves and Twi to the gates.” She turned and left the room, his mum floating behind her, snoring.

^{^-_~-^}

Having so many Equestrians willing to transform into their “animagi” form changed the common room dynamic. Harry and his herd-mates were no longer the centres of attention, he was happy to see.

Luna, naturally, was the most popular pony. Everyone wanted to see if her coat was soft like fur or hard like crystal. It was soft like fur, but was translucent and glittered like crystal. There were dark sections scattered across her body, but her internal organs were not on display, despite being able to see the broad outlines and colours of the people, and the room’s furnishings, through her. Somehow the imagery behind her was transmitted to her other side, as if she were see-through, like a translucent window.

The “younger” ponies did seem to prefer being close to older ones, though, despite them actually being older than Harry’s herd-mates. Probably because Harry and the herd were seen as “experienced” and would protect them. That, and the fact that Harry was part of the royal family. As were his herd-mates by association, if not yet fact. Being nice to the potential royals was always a good strategy.

In the meantime, regarding safety, if Harry and the other three weren’t alarmed, then it must be okay was the consensus.

That there were also nearly equal numbers of Equestrians in the other Houses meant that this year there were no “visitors” from the other dorms, at all. Which considerably decreased the crowding in the common room.

Now that he wasn’t being singled out, it was hilarious to watch the firsties getting blissed out at all the attention they were receiving.

Actually, as Harry looked around, the common room seemed even less crowded than he had expected. Had it expanded to accommodate the increased number of students, as the firsties’ room had been expanded with extra beds and more room?

The next morning started with History of Magic, which used to be taught by a ghost. Professor Lupin had taken over the position last year.

Professor Binns, the previous Professor of Magical History, had been a ghost and taught the course for over a century. Last year, he had realized he had actually died during his tenure as a Professor, and had never noticed! The CMC had never seen a ghost until they were at Hogwarts, and under their questioning he had finally noticed his deceased state. With that discovery on his part, he had gone off to his “next great adventure,” as the Headmaster had termed it.

His replacement, Professor Remus Lupin, had periodically brought in the ghosts in the castle, and other places, to take turns speaking about their lives and the times they had lived in. It was so much more interesting to listen to someone talk about a historical incident when they had lived through it! Not to mention that some of them actually knew the villains or heroes that their textbook discussed.

Professor Lupin’s approach to teaching had been greatly appreciated, once they all got over their disappointment at losing their scheduled nap time.

It was rather ironic that their Professor was using ghosts to bring the past to life for the students in the present.

His robes were standard Professorial ones, ones in much better condition this year than they had been last year. That, no doubt, was due to Sirius’ influence.

Remus, too, introduced new Professorial Aides, except both of them were Seventh-year students. Naturally. An Equestrian would have been of no help at all in this class. Duh.

Unfortunately, the longer a werewolf had been afflicted with the curse, the more habits she, or he, had to try to correct. Even Remus — who had lived so much among muggles — had a few habits that were hard to break. His temper and lassitude during the times of a normal full moon would be a problem for him for some time to come, Sirius had told Harry.

“Pavlov’s Dogs, you know,” he had said wryly. Which had led into an explanation about how physical reactions become ingrained to visual and auditory stimuli — and very difficult to break.

The next class was Charms. It was as interesting as ever — they started with a comprehensive look at last year’s textbook. Professor Filius Flitwick, was a tiny little wizard with white hair and green robes, who could look a pony straight in the eyes. He was quite affable, and spent the entire lesson revising the previous year’s charms with them. He was more than a little surprised at just how much they did remember.

On the other hoof, Harry was gratified to hear at the end of the class, that they already had covered almost a third of the material for second year! Celestia bless book-walking! That meant that after the revising in the next two weeks, they would already be that far through this year! With luck and perseverance, they might even be able make their way through the third-year spells before they finished second year!

They would definitely be setting records when their OWLs came around.

After lunch was Potions. Which was actually had a bit of a surprise. Instead of Professor Snape, there was an enormously fat, short, bald, old man wearing a wizarding suit instead of robes. His belly was so large that the buttons on his waistcoat appeared to be ready to burst off. He had prominent, gooseberry-coloured eyes, and an enormous, silver, walrus-like moustache. He was grinning broadly as they entered the room.

Standing with him was a Ravenclaw, a blonde-haired, upper-year student, one Harry had never met. Beside him was a buxom Equestrian. An Equestrian he and his Equestrian herd-mates immediately identified. Her hair was black and white striped in a Mohawk-style. She wore two gold earrings, one in each ear, with five gold rings tight to her neck and a matching set of five on her left arm. Her face was a bit squarer than the other Equestrians Harry had seen.

It was Zecora!

All three fillies yelled her name at the same time and charged forward to hug her. After a moment, the Professor shooed them away and they quickly found seats. Apple Bloom and Ginny took one table, Harry and Hermione had the next, and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were behind Harry’s table.

Harry wondered if her animagus form was a zebra, like she was in Equestria. The Zebras from Zebrica didn’t seem to have overt magic like the ponies did, relying primarily on rituals and potions. However, most wizards and witches seemed to have the capability, even if they never learned how to do it. Zecora, he thought, should be able to manage the animagus transformation. He would suggest, later, she explore that option.

Once everyone was in place, the wizard started off with, “I am Professor Horace Slughorn. I will be teaching this class, as well as the other classes leading up to your OWLs.” He turned and nodded to the wizard at his side. “This is Mr. Widdershins, and he will normally handle the Wednesday classes.” He turned to Zecora. “And this lovely witch is Zecora, an Equestrian. While she is a Potions Master in Equestria, she will be observing my classes as she learns how potions are created and used here in England. She will be helping the two of us in our classes.” He rubbed his hands together. “So,” he said jovially, “Shall we see how much you remember from last year?”

What followed was a class-long question and answer session where every student received at least some attention. It was clear from the way his expression occasionally fell that the class was not where he wanted it to be. His . . . lapses . . . were just as frequent when he was questioning the Slytherins as with the Gryffindors — neither side of the class was happy with the other hearing their faults.

The end of class came none too soon for Ron and Neville, or Goyle and Crabbe. Although both sets of boys had snickered at the others’ mistakes, all four were exchanging relieved looks as they left the classroom. Truthfully, the entire class was relieved. This was one of a mere handful of times they had left Potions without fleeing an explosion, enduring another melted cauldron from Neville, or the subjects of yet another Sweetie-Belle-potion-gone-wrong.

Not to mention their attendant ear-blistering and soul-destroying tantrums from Professor Snape. No one would miss those!

Just as relieving had been knowing they would be revising safety rules and proper cutting and stirring procedures for the next two weeks. No disasters for two weeks, guaranteed, led to quiet celebrations. Many exchanged high-fives, while looking over at Sweetie Belle, as they left the class.

Author's Notes:

* Thank you, Firestorm100, for Rule #12. And Odeinoichus for Rule 13.

The Rules
As revised for the new year:

ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS!

1) Students are not allowed to ask ghosts if they are dead. It is rude. (Firestorm)
2) Students are not allowed to exorcize or assist local ghosts to their next great adventure without ADVANCE permission from the Headmaster.
..a) Yes, this includes Peeves, no matter how aggravating he may be. (Firestorm)
3) Students are not allowed to manifest, materialize, restore, or otherwise turn or return to life any ghosts, or other deceased or non-corporeal individuals, whether human or not. Period.
..a) This includes, but is not limited to, banshees, dementors, draugrs, ghouls, jiangshis, liches, mummies, phantoms, poltergeists, revenants, shadow persons, skeletons, spectres, vampires, wights, wraiths, and zombies.
..b) Yes, this includes Peeves, no matter how much he deserves hexing. (Firestorm)
4) Students are not allowed to attempt spells or rituals from household grimoires or books from home without FIRST getting permission well in advance from their Head of House OR the Headmaster. Preferably BOTH.
..a) Individual spells brought or sent from home are included in this ban.
..b) As are any spells from a source not in the Hogwarts Library.
..c) As are any spells from books in the Hogwarts Restricted Section.
..d) Book, for the purposes of this list, shall be construed to be anything with a spell written on it.
5) Outside of Quidditch matches and practice, pegasi are restricted to a top speed of 40 mph.
..a) Pegasi are not allowed to participate in official Quidditch matches.
..b) Pegasi are not allowed to fly in school corridors.
..c) Pegasi are not allowed to fly in the Great Hall.
..d) Pegasi are not allowed to fly up or down the staircases.
..e) Pegasi are allowed to fly in classrooms, with the Professor’s permission and for demonstration purposes only.
..f) Students are not allowed to request a certain Equestrian-Atlantean turn their fellow best-mates into pegasi.
.....i) Or any other animagus form!
....ii) If you don’t know who this Equestrian-Atlantean is, consider yourself very lucky. (Firestorm & Senko)
6) While the desire to learn is laudable, students are no longer allowed within a Hogwarts Library book for longer than two hours. Five points shall be deducted for each infraction.
..a) Students are prohibited from remaining inside any of his or her own personal books for longer than two hours.
..b) Students are not allowed to use the book-walking spell past lights-out. Five points deduction for each infraction.
..c) Students are not allowed into any Hogwarts Library book without strict supervision by a Professor, or a student two (2) years her senior — the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan are not considered appropriate supervisors. (Odeinoichus)
7) Students are not allowed to spend more than 5 minutes hugging/petting/grooming an animagus student in their animagus form if other students are waiting.
..a) Students are not allowed to force, or guilt, an animagus student to remain in their form if they do not wish to do so.
..b) Animagi students must complete their homework for the day before they can partake in any ‘petting’ or ‘grooming’ session.
..c) Animagi students are not allowed to use that form’s cuteness to convince staff members to do things for them or excuse them from activities, assignments, or punishments.
....i) Animagi are not allowed to enlist other animagi in this subversion of authority. (Senko)
8) Students are not allowed to play with dangerous beasts inside the school corridors.
..a) Or on the staircases
..b) Or in the classrooms, unless supervised by a qualified staff member.
.....i) For the purposes of this rule, Hagrid is NOT a qualified staff member.
..c) Or in the dorms.
..d) Or the broom-closets, even if they are expanded.
..e) Or the student trunks, even if they are expanded.
..f) Or the Hogwarts’ front, side, or rear grounds.
..g) Or the lake (except Gerald, the Squid).
9) Students are not allowed to try to catch, or actually catch, the Acromantula spiders in the Forbidden Forest in hopes of getting a Cutie Mark in Spider Wrangling. Or producing their own Acromantula silk. Or any other reason. (Senko)
10) Sweetie Belle is ONLY allowed to brew potions under the direct supervision of Professor Snape, or an accomplished potions student three (3) years her senior.
..a) The Weasley twins are excluded from supervising any students, at any time, for any reason, with regards to potions, unless Professor Snape gives his un-coerced permission. (Senko)
11) Students are strictly FORBIDDEN to call upon a certain Equestrian-Atlantean during Professor Snape’s lessons. Or any other lesson. Or within Hogwarts in general. Or anywhere near it. Or quote this rule out loud more than once in twenty-four hours. Per whole group and not per person. Just . . .DON’T! Penalties include dismissal from Hogwarts and/or time in Azkaban. If you don’t know who this Equestrian-Atlantean is, you should be grateful.(Firestorm)
.
(Names in parentheses are the contributors who suggested them)

** Sir Chaos Omega and Ecuos Oinocernos, from the previous story, for Twilight.

*** CrimsonPlays, from the previous story, for Princess Luna.

Ch. 10. They Should Have Expected It

Friday afternoon, after lunch and before Charms, they had a free period. Harry decided to take advantage of that and went down to visit Hagrid. Ron, Neville, his herd-mates, and Luna went along.

“Harry,” the half-giant delightedly said as he came around the edge of his wooden cottage. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he continued genially. “Like a spot of tea?”

Once they were all settled in a row on his bed — he didn’t have nearly enough chairs for nine visitors — “Have a good summer, did ya?” he asked as he set the kettle on the fire.

After bringing him up on their adventures over the summer, and their classes so far, Harry asked, “Hagrid, can you get acromantula silk?”

The wizard shrugged his shoulders, “There’s plenty about Aragog’s abandoned nest,” he said.

Harry explained how there was a shortage of the product in Equestria, and how Hagrid could make some extra galleons.

Hagrid glanced around his cottage. “Don’ really need a lot of galleons,” he said, thinking on it. “I don’ spend most o’ what I earn, already. Got pretty much all I need, right here,” he waved his arm to indicate his cottage, “already.”

“But you need to save some for the future, when you retire,” Hermione piped up, and sipped some tea from her cup — more of a bowl considering it was a teacup for a half-giant.

Hagrid nodded, furrowing his brow. “Tha’s true, I suppose.”

“Well,” Harry said slowly, musing, “You could make a deal with Aragog on behalf of the school. You could use the funds to help fix up some of the things here at the school. Surely there’s stuff that needs to be replaced or fixed, or even just touched up a bit.”

Hermione nodded. “There seem to be a lot of unused classrooms in the school that are in dreadful need of a cleaning. Obviously, there’s too much work to be done for the house-elves to manage everything, and heaven knows that Mr. Filch is overworked with what he does. Perhaps you could use the extra income to hire additional help for the school?”

“My mum mentioned that the Headmaster told her the budget was tight at Hogwarts,” Harry said earnestly, “which is one reason why they don’t offer more electives and have a bigger staff.”

Hagrid slowly nodded. “Tha’s true. I’ve heard the perfessers ask fer more funding in staff meetin’s more than once.”

“Besides,” put in Apple Bloom, “Someday you might get married and you’ll need a lot of galleons to expand and outfit the cottage for two.”

Hagrid gave her a surprised look. “Me? Married?” He looked wistful for a moment. “Naw,” he said, “Witches ’ave never given me a second glance.” A sad expression drifted momentarily across his face.

“You cannot tell the future,” Sweetie Belle said. “It is better to be prepared for the future than be caught out.”

Scootaloo smirked, then snickered with a sidelong glance at her herd-mates. “I think you’re underselling yourself, Hagrid.”

The others looked at her.

She shrugged, “According to my aunts, regardless of what mares tell stallions, size matters.” She narrowed her eyes and looked up at Hagrid. “If you’re as big as you appear, once the witches discover you’re available, there’ll be a line out your door all the way to the Hogwarts gates!”

““““Scootaloo!”””” came the scandalized responses from the other girls. Hermione and Ginny were blushing furiously, the other two were more surprised just to hear her be so . . . outspoken . . . on this subject. Innuendo was not a specialty for the pegasus — quite the opposite, in fact.

On the other hoof, the fillies thought, maybe with her new, bigger wings, to attract attention, her aunts might have been a bit livelier when talking about stallions, and what she might want to do? Or with whom?

Harry, Ron, and Neville stared at her, gobsmacked.

Luna merely looked intrigued.

Having seen a few copies of the newsparchment her father printed, The Quibbler, Harry had a horrible feeling that a future article would cover the sizes of the various talking-species’ willies. And the mating habits of pegasi.

“You need to stop in at the Three Broomsticks and tell Madam Rosmerta that you’re looking for a little companionship. She might have a few suggestions,” Scootaloo continued earnestly. “The twins say she knows practically everyone in Hogsmeade.”

It was Hagrid’s turn to blush red. He ran a rough hand through his hair. “I don’t know about tha’.” He said quietly.

“Stop in at the bookstore in Hogsmeade and ask the bookseller if he has any books on meeting witches,” said Hermione, startling herself, and blushing a bit redder. “I’m sure a book would offer many suggestions on how to present yourself without being discouraged or embarrassed.”

The boys exchanged horrified glances. What was going on? How had they gotten from there to here?

“Anyway,” Sweetie Belle said, “Just because you don’t need galleons today doesn’t mean you won’t need them tomorrow.”

Desperate to get the topic to safe ground, Harry put it, “Yeah, just send an owl to Filthy Rich, in Ponyville, Equestria. Tell him I suggested you two get together about a deal with acromantula silk. Then, take along a couple of pounds of silk as a sample, and an estimate as to how much you can salvage.

“If he’s interested in a long-term arrangement, maybe you could work out a deal with the spiders? Trade them sheep or cows for quantities of their silk? I’m sure they’d be happy to give you their excess in exchange,” he said, “for an assured method of getting plenty of food in the future. That way they won’t come into conflict with the others who make their homes in the Forbidden Forest simply because their nest got too big,” he concluded.

The conversation sort of petered out after that. The boys and Hagrid were getting embarrassed about the topic they were on, and the girls were not doing much better.

Then Hagrid said, “I hear you’re an animagus?” to Luna.

Silently blessing the half-giant, the boys quickly dove into an explanation of what had happened on the train, and what Harry’s mum had discovered.

He had never been soo happy before to leave a conversation behind. He couldn’t help looking at Scootaloo with a new awareness. He uncomfortably wondered how he measured up — and if he could do anything about it if he didn’t. Would they have a book in the library? Where would he even look!? He could feel himself blushing and the fillies giving him occasional curious glances.

From their expressions, Harry thought Neville and Ron were similarly perplexed.

That was one topic he would never ask Hermione, or any of the others in the herd, for help in searching the library!

Fortunately, Luna was soon showing off her new and beautiful form to Hagrid’s admiring examination.

“I ain’ ever seen anything like that,” he said, studying her from every angle as she stood on his table. “I ‘spect it mus’ be yer magic that be letting people see thru ya, bu’ not revealin’ yer insides,” he mused. “ ’Em wings is a pretty piece o’ work, too. Bet there’s tiny hairs on ’em tha’ helps yer actually pick up on wind currents to ‘elp yer glide and fly — like bats do.” He studied her wings for a moment. “Yer lack o’ feathers means yeh aren’ as noisy as birds in flight.” He pondered for a few seconds. “Yer probably as quiet as an owl in flight,” he stated. “Real good a’ stealth.”

Luna wasn’t quite preening, but she was soaking up the attention he was devoting to her.

Harry didn’t notice the displeased expressions his herd-mates were giving him as he stared at the glittering pony.

Then she started asking questions, and the two of them quickly left the rest behind as they started talking about rarer and rarer creatures.

Harry and the others left the filly and the half-giant deep in a discussion about snorkacks and where they might be found. Luna was saying they lived in the north, but Hagrid suggested, based on what she had described — small, purple, four-hooved, twisted horn on the forehead, and a long tail — that they probably lived much farther south.

Headmaster Dumbledore genially looked over the professors in their meeting room as they settled down into their seats. The new professors were fitting in nicely, he observed. It was the first Friday of the month instead of the usual second. He wanted to nip any problems in the bud. A more thorough professorial assessment of their new students, the new Aides, and the returning students would be next week.

Sometimes, early acknowledgement of possible issues could prevent severe problems, later. An ounce of prevention, and all that. Especially with so many foreign First Years.

The Aides were scheduled for a meeting on Saturday morning, to get their views on how the first week of school had gone.

Remus, he was pleased to see, showed none of the signs that he had been a werewolf, or that a full-moon was even coming next week. The wizard had already explained to everyone that traveling to Atlantis seemed to have driven the werewolf curse out of him. He had spent the last full-moon in a Ministry holding cell to prove to the nay-sayers that he wouldn’t transform — he had played poker with the Aurors all night, as a wizard!

By every measure and test the Ministry could apply, Lupin was not a werewolf. The only sign he might have been one were the scars that decorated his body. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for them, many of the older aurors had quite a few more scars. If no one told them beforehand, the typical wizard, or witch, would assume that had been, or was, his job. Or possibly a Hit-Wizard.

The Ministry had reluctantly removed his name from the “Known Werewolves” list. Even more reluctantly, they had issued a letter stating, unequivocally, that he wasn’t a werewolf.

The Atlanteans had already conducted a second trial in which seven other werewolves had been cured. It was conceivable that within a generation, or two, the werewolf curse would become a thing of the past. Something truly to look forward to happening. At the very least, the numbers would fall to the point of being nearly a non-issue.

“Thank you all,” Albus said jovially, “for your hard work so far this year.” The murmured conversations quickly ceased. He shook his head wryly. “I know I had warned you that we would be getting a few students from Atlantis this term, but I have to say that I did not expect the number of students who did arrive. I doubt that since the founding of Hogwarts have we seen the incoming class double from one year to the next.” He smiled as they all nodded, except Severus Snape, the newly promoted NEWT-level Potions Professor, who scowled.

“On that note, have we noticed any issues with the Atlanteans?” He looked expectantly around the room.

“They seem to be most curious,” said his Depute Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. “They are very attentive in class, and not shy about asking questions. The non-unicorn assignments are very messy, however. I suggest we set up a class on weekends in the art of writing, as most of them are unfamiliar with how to use quills. I’ve seen many actually using their mouths to manipulate their quills, and doing a much better job of writing than using their hand.” She looked a bit perplexed at that issue, as most of them were. How do you manipulate a quill that way? “The unicorns use their magic to manipulate the quills,” she added.

She shook her head slightly, to get herself back on topic. “Being foreigners, their spelling and grammar leaves much to be desired, so perhaps a dictionary of the words they can be expected to see might be in order, as well.” She paused a moment. “I suggest we put together a ‘pre-Howarts’ class in August for the next incoming groups of First Years where we could concentrate on writing and grammar. It could be held in Atlantis for their convenience, or we could hold it here, in Hogwarts, to make it easier for them to adapt to their new forms and being in a new world.” She frowned, thinking. “I know it took me several months to truly get comfortable with my animagus form. I can’t imagine the pressure of also dealing with learning an entirely new society so different from their own.”

Professor Pomona Sprout, the Head of House for the Hufflepuffs, snorted. “That they don’t really understand our society is evident. I’m still hearing from my Prefects about finding them wandering around sans clothing, or running around in their animagus form and when told to revert to human it turns out they never dressed before leaving their dorm room.”

Professor Flitwick, Head of the Ravenclaw House, sighed. “One of my Prefects, Miss Penelope Clearwater, told me she found one of the Atlantean First Years wandering around the common room and lifting her robes to show she wasn’t wearing anything underneath because she thought it was funny the way the older students would turn red and run away. The girl simply did not understand why Miss Clearwater was upset. She was, as she put it, ‘Just showing off my cutie mark.’” He shook his head. “She claimed there wasn’t anything unusual about that at home, and she wasn’t showing off anything that was private. Besides, she wouldn’t be in-season until spring, anyway.”

Poppy Pomfrey, the matron in charge of the Hospital Wing, sighed and buried her head in her hands. “I’ll schedule a puberty class for the Atlanteans for tomorrow, and explain that humans don’t have seasons — they are always fertile unless they take a contraceptive or use a contraceptive spell,” she said dejectedly. “Please tell all the First Year Atlanteans that attendance is mandatory. Girls will be in the late morning, at ten, and boys in the early afternoon, at one.”

“Shall I inform the Atlantean Aides?” asked the Headmaster.

Poppy gave him a startled look. “Yes, they might be able to help explain the differences between here and there. And clear up any misunderstandings they might have, too.”

“I’ll add that lecture to the ‘pre-Hogwarts’ class schedule,” Minerva added dryly.

Albus nodded and looked over to Professor Horace Slughorn, the Slytherin Head of House, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

Horace cleared his throat. “Ignoring the aforementioned issues . . .,” he shook his head. “Discovering that all the Atlanteans can trace their families’ histories back at least a thousand years, if not double or triple that, has even the most conservative upper-years reconsidering their families’ position.” He chuckled. “Most can’t go back more than four or five hundred years. My Slytherins have been forced to rethink their entire position on pure-bloods, half-bloods, and muggle-born. By the conservatives’ own logic, the Atlanteans could consider almost everyone in Slytherin House to be a ‘new’ half-blood.

“Fortunately, the Atlanteans don’t even seem to understand what the issue is, much less why it should matter.

“Also confusing the wizards and witches is how the Atlanteans are so cheerful and forthright,” he concluded. “They almost seem incapable of the cunning and plotting that have been the mainstay of the Slytherin House for generations.” He smiled. “Except they were sorted into the House by the Hat. That has the upper-years in a quandary. Are the Atlanteans really that naïve? Or are they playing a long game that the non-Equestrians can’t fathom, as yet?”

Albus nodded his understanding and leaned back in his chair.

“As you have probably noticed,” he said conversationally, “That there are only nine boys and twenty-eight girls in the group, matching the original one-to-three ratio of Harry and his . . . herd-mates.”

The group exchanged looks and their brows wrinkled, thinking over the possibilities. Severus gave him a steady look, then suddenly his eyebrows rose in surprise. A moment later, a couple of others saw to the centre of the subject.

“Precisely,” the Dumbledore confirmed, nodding. “According to the books I’ve had purchased and returned from Atlantis, the ratio of males to females in Atlantis is one to three.” He smiled softly. “I suspect that for most of the girls, their long game is tilted more in the direction of acquiring a capable husband, one that compliments their own skills or goals, than any other single aim. After all, what the Princesses want from them is a record of their experiences so they can design their own schools of magic. With the . . . correct . . . partner they could propel themselves into the top ranks of their society.”

He looked at his professors with raised eyebrows. “I suppose it would be like scheming to find the right potions partner to help you get the attention of the Flamels as sponsors to your research.”

More than one person looked startled at the thought.

He leaned forward. “Our society, where the ratio of male to female is equal, must seem like a paradise to them. A witch can marry a wizard, and not need to share.

“As a result of that inequity of the sexes, their society is a matriarchy. An inverse of our own society. The males are more likely to find themselves in charge of the children while the women are at the forefronts of those duties we, here, consider wizard’s work. From my readings, they view the males as vain, impulsive, emotional, and illogical. It is their job to watch over their men, to save them from their own follies, if you will. It is not by accident that their two rulers are women, that the mayors of their cities are women, that the heroes of the nation are all young women.” He chuckled. “The males seem to spend most of their time getting into predicaments that require a mare to rescue them.

“One of my informants in Equestria told me that he frequently ran into the men, the stallions, being at the forefront of the business, issuing orders and running things in general. However, the truth, he said, was like the husband who says, ‘I wear the trousers in this family, don’t I honey?’”

The witches in the room were all smirking.

“On the other hand, I’ve noted that their Guard, the equivalent of our Aurors, seems to be heavily invested in men. Plus, many of their . . . villains . . . are men, as well.” He paused. “It’s an odd dynamic.” He shook his head.

“The Atlanteans also seem to mature faster. Both sexes, actually, seem to be about two years ahead of where wizards and witches are in relation to puberty. Which means that even though they are eleven, the age I told the Princesses was the usual lower limit to begin a magical education, they are thirteen in mental and physical growth and outlook. They will act far more mature than their age-mates in the dorms.”

He sighed. “They also seem to prefer their pony forms in Atlantis over their human forms. Being quadrupeds, and furred, they are far more . . . blasé . . . about nudity. Hence, their . . . proclivity for failing to dress in the mornings. And disrobing in public without a thought.”

The professors exchanged evaluating looks.

Pomona looked over to Filius. “That one girl Miss Clearwater mentioned may not have been as innocent as she claimed. She could have been gauging the reactions of the wizards in the House with an eye towards who to watch in the future as a potential boyfriend.”

Albus stared at the table-top for a minute before looking back up. “We shall have to monitor things closely, hmm?” He stroked his beard.

“Additionally, Princess Twilight has informed me that these thirty-nine are . . . the most curious, the bravest, and among the smartest students they have.” He glanced around the room.

“Obviously,” Severus said snidely. “They want to make an impression.”

“Most certainly,” said the Headmaster softly. “These were chosen out of the one thousand volunteers they had that were the appropriate age.” He looked at their stunned faces. “I suspect you will find them at the top of every class in a few weeks.” He smiled genially. “After all, if we could choose thirty-nine students out of a thousand eleven-year-olds to send to a foreign school to learn a new magic, wouldn’t we choose the best?”

His eyes were twinkling as he said, “I imagine that setting up a school system to handle the many thousands of students they have will take a few decades. In the meantime, Hogwarts will be the school for their elite as we have the best magical Professors. With a bit of work, we can make Hogwarts into the school that everyone, and everypony, looks to when someone mentions the premier magical school of the world.”

There were several moments’ silence as everyone considered the issue.

“Now, that that’s sorted,” he prompted, looking back up with a twinkle in his eyes. “How are our new wizards and witches settling in?”

The discussion continued for another hour. Before they broke up, however, the Headmaster had one more announcement.

“On Wednesday, as you no doubt remember, we were graced with the presences of Princesses Luna and Twilight. Both were here in response to an action by the Equestrian they refer to as the God of Chaos. It seems he made an appearance on the Hogwarts Express just as it left the station for Hogsmeade.”

The other professors sat straighter and focused a bit more on him.

Dumbledore smiled gently. “Apparently, the God of Chaos is a bit of a prankster, and was offended that neither a Crystal Pony nor a Night Pony had been included in the allotment of ponies to attend Hogwarts. He took it upon himself to remedy that oversight.” He sighed. “One would think that the easiest way to disrupt things would be to bring in two more students.”

He had their full attention.

“Instead, he chose a witch, and bestowed upon her an animagus form that was a blend of the Crystal and Night ponies, just as he gave the Weasleys animagus forms.”

The staff exchanged incredulous looks.

“A Night Pony, I’ve been informed, is a basically a Pegasus, but with enhanced night-vision, enhanced hearing, and leathery wings.”

The incredulous looks increased in amplitude.

Eyes twinkling, Albus continued. “A crystal pony is the same as an earth pony, except their fur appears crystalline, and they are translucent.” Minerva nodded as Snape scoffed. “I saw the pony in question. Her wings are membranes, not feathers, and covered in tiny hairs you can barely see. If you look at her, you can see the background through her. Interestingly, there are darker areas on her body, but her internal organs are actually invisible to the eye. The darker areas appear to both random in shape and placement, and move about. What that means, I don’t know.”

“Who is it?” interrupted Filius, the Charms professor.

“Luna Lovegood,” Minerva answered. Everyone in the room except the Headmaster gave a longsuffering sigh. “Her father has been informed, and will be here this weekend to meet with her.” She shook her head wryly. “I imagine she will be the cover of his next Quibbler.”

They were silent, considering what that would mean for the small conspiracy-oriented publication.

“The reason I bring this up now,” Albus picked up the conversation, “is because of what Princess Twilight did when she came on Wednesday.” He looked around the room at each of the professors. “For the moment, I must ask you to keep this quiet,” he said slowly.

“As you know, Harry Potter and his friends went with Miss Lovegood and the Princesses.

“Princess Twilight cast several diagnostic spells on everyone in the room, myself and Minerva included. She did this on both our normal selves and as animagi. She later told me in a letter that having a spread of the animagi magic in Equestrians and wizards allowed her to see what the God of Chaos had done, and how.”

Everyone leaned back in surprise, before leaning forward to listen even more intently than before.

He sighed. “She then offered Miss Myrtle Warren a choice of unicorn, pegasus, or earth pony forms for her animagus. Miss Warren chose winged.”

He was silent a moment, thinking. They waited impatiently for him to continue.

“Princess Twilight then cast a spell that turned Miss Warren into a pegasus animagi. With several of us coaching her, she was able to transform back and forth in about an hour.”

The professors were staring at him, gobsmacked.

He nodded slowly. “There is now a spell that can be used to turn almost any wizard or witch into a pony animagus.” He paused. “Regrettably, it is not a spell that anyone but the most powerful wizards can cast. Princess Twilight fell asleep immediately afterwards, exhausted, and Princess Luna had to carry her home.”

He shook his head. “Based on what she told me, even I would have a difficult time casting the spell.” He paused again. “She did mention that she was exploring methods that might make it easier, even possibly making it a ritual that could use power-crystals instead of drawing from the castor. The simplest would be to activate the innate animagus form instead of imposing a pony form. That had the potential of being the easiest spell for her to create, she said.”

“My word,” half-whispered Horace. “Anyone?”

The Headmaster nodded. “Anyone capable of becoming an animagus could benefit from the spell.” He sighed again. “She said she hoped to have it complete in a week. She wanted to run the calculations by one of the professors at their magical school.”

“My word,” Horace repeated, stunned.

“Quite,” Albus said. “I’m telling you all this so you may answer any questions the students might have, and in an attempt to forestall the worst of the rumours. Should any parents ask you about this, you can tell them that yes, such a spell exists, but it is of such difficulty that I, myself, would have reservations about doing it.”

They were silent for several minutes, and then the meeting began to break up.

Royal Visits, Part One

It was the Royal Visit to top all royal visits. 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, was going to be meeting with the co-rulers of not just another nation, but the co-rulers of a nation on another planet! The Equestrian Princesses Celestia and Luna were going to come to Earth to meet with the Queen.

To say that the newspapers and video journalists were excited was a huge understatement. It almost . . . almost . . . overshadowed England’s first planned manned-mission to the Moon!

Watching the Buran, Britain’s own space plane, race down the runway for its first orbital flight had galvanized national pride in a way nothing had done since the Blitz. Yes, the Buran was Russian-made, but it was now fully and completely Britain’s!

Britain’s own scientists and technicians had been all over the shuttle, and improved it beyond its builder’s wildest dreams — no giant booster was now necessary, it could fly like a true plane! The yanks were practically drooling at the prospect, and their efforts to be included in the project were getting downright ludicrous.

They had already caught one selenographer trying to sneak aboard the space plane with the absolutely ridiculous idea of being a stowaway. He had a trunk-sized rucksack filled with concentrated-food, and a home-built spacesuit with a CO₂ scrubber/rebreather! How he expected to remain undetected mystified everyone.

The announcement that the rulers of the U.K.’s newest ally were coming for a personal visit had driven that fervour to a higher pitch. The Equestrians had freely shared their medical knowledge to provide a cure for cancer, as well as the ability to regrow lost limbs. It was their technology, freely shared, that had thrust the U.K. to the forefront of the space-race, and made possible automotive and industrial air-scrubbers so efficient that the common man already could see the difference in air-quality!

The automotive and lorry manufacturers Morgan, Caterham, and McLaren, were rumoured about to release new models that incorporated several of those technologies. Automotive journalists who had seen advance models were agog over what they had seen — roomier interiors, greater mileage, better safety features. They even had witnessed one of the new models in a crash test at 100kph, with no damage to the test dummy — and only minor damage to the vehicle! *

Then there were the motorhome and semi-trailer manufactures. Devon Conversions, Auto-Sleepers, Bilbo, Swift Group, Awaydays, Lawrence David, among others, were all introducing models that incorporated some aspect of the Undetectable Expansion charm. Different models included different sizes – the government was limiting the sizes of expansion available to keep other governments and citizens from panicking at the actual potential of the charm. Everyone thought it had a maximum limit of triple the original size. Careful design of the runes, with a lot of red-herrings, made it nearly impossible for someone to decipher exactly what the limit was. Hiding part of the runes as the actual vehicle logo made it impossible to simply duplicate the vehicle. Sure, Ford could copy the McLaren version. But then trying to sell a vehicle as a Ford when it proudly proclaimed on the hood and bonnet that it was a McLaren was a simple no-go. Not to mention the various international trademark agreements that would violate.

Even the tip trucks had gotten involved with Hestair.

Naturally, they all had the same safety features as the passenger vehicles.

The rest of the world was stunned.

Of course, the Queen would invite the Princesses!

Second Lieutenant Castor James Searle swore he was going to be bald by his next birthday. Castor had been the very first government officer that the Equestrians had met last year. Just a year ago, he had been a Detective Inspector in the Surrey Constabulary — a relatively sedate occupation, although with an exorbitant amount of paperwork, in his opinion. Prior to that position, he had been a Sergeant in the Special Air Service, the S.A.S., the Sport and Social, as the members called it, before he retired for the much more mundane Constabulary.

Immediately realizing he was way over his paygrade, he had bucked his discovery up to one of his former commanders in the military. He had, ultimately, had bucked it up to the Prime Minister. Which was how he had been reactivated as an officer in Military Intelligence — what an oxymoron that was! — Department Five, and then assigned as Concierge to the Equestrians.

And Concierge he was. Half his time was spent arranging visits to museums and theatres for the various scientists, and Twilight — a member of the Royal family who, apparently, had been put in charge of the First Contact. Not to mention he had to get the teams of both pony and British scientists, technicians, and experts introduced and working together.

He even had a staff, now. One of whom was on-site at the Equestrian Embassy to answer the simpler questions, and direct inquiries, leaving only the more difficult ones for him to field or arrange.

And now the Queen had invited the two co-rulers to visit.

Princesses Celestia and Luna.

As if dealing with the Equestrians, for him, wasn’t already like herding cats. He had no doubts that before it got much further along, not only would it be Celestia and Luna, but Twilight and the others in the Mane Six would want to be involved, too. Twilight would probably insist that Harry and his friends be dragged along, too.

Twilight. Well, he wasn’t sure that she was A.D.D., but sometimes she sure acted like it.

Plus, while the Queen’s staff, and both MI5 and MI6, were well versed in the intricacies of dealing with an Official State Visit, the problems introduced by the Equestrians very alienness was the issue. The arrival ceremony usually took place on the Horse Guards Parade.

Yeah, they really didn’t want the Equestrians being treated to a parade of horses being ridden by the Queens Guard. They would have to use Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle — but those were more restrictive sites in terms of viewers. And he knew this would have maximum attendance. Perhaps they could use two of the five regiments of foot guards: Grenadier Guards, Coldstream Guards, Scots Guards, Irish Guards, and the Welsh Guards?

If everything was on foot, maybe they could use a portion of each of the regiments, otherwise the Equestrians might question why the others were left out. Considering their EUP Guards, that might be a better option.

Then there was the food. How would the Princesses appear? As ponies? Or human? Or would they do both at different times? The Royal cooks were sure to lose their minds when they saw some of the Equestrian menus — hay-fries and hay burgers?

Vegetarian would have to be the watchword.

He’d heard the ponies had tried tofu, only to have their predator Griffins declare it a chemical weapon — it gave them extreme intestinal gas problems. Which they had discovered when it had cleared out the Canterlot Palace banquet hall at the one event they had tried serving it to the meat-eaters.

Although, the ponies didn’t mind fish being served . . ..

He would have to consult with Princess Twilight.

Castor was a bundle of nerves. The big-wigs on the Equestrian side were enough of a headache, all three princesses, plus Prince Blueblood. He had met the sister Princesses in Equestria more than once, primarily at the Grand Galloping Gala, and other such events. The Ambassador and Twilight he had met far more frequently.

No, it was the litany of English nobility that had him ready to melt into a puddle of anxiety.

A special open-air pavilion had been set up in front of the Equestrian Embassy for the first meeting of the monarchs. It was surrounded on three sides by the press corps — there was very nearly at least one reporter and cameraman from every country in the world — with bleachers for selected guests to watch this first, historic meeting.

Castor was waiting patiently — and nervously — outside the Portal Dome that kept the Portal, and a small area around it, isolated. With him were several of the Embassy staff, eager to meet their Princesses.

His first impression at seeing the Princesses exit the Portal, escorted by Blueblood and the local Equestrian Guards, was that they were much bigger than he had ever thought. The surreptitious pictures taken by MI5 last year had made Luna look a bit smaller than she really was, having only other humanized ponies present in the photo.

While Twilight was slightly taller than an average person, Princess Luna was at least two and a half metres tall! The third Princess was at least another metre!

Fortunately, M.I.5 had made the rather prudent decision to customize the interior of the Land Rover they would be using, and erred on the side of deliberately over-estimating the possible sizes of their visitors. The inside of that particular vehicle provided enough room for a thirty people, with a ceiling that was four metres high.

“Your Majesties,” he said bowing deeply to the Equestrians as they left the Portal Dome and turned their attention to him. “Everything is set according to the schedule we sent you. The Queen and her entourage are waiting in a pavilion in front of the Embassy. After introductions, we’ll take a Land Rover to Trafalgar Square, where we will transfer to carriages and take The Mall to Buckingham Palace. The Mall will provide the populace to see you and the Queen.”

All four nodded, and followed him as he headed into the back doors of the Embassy.

The introductions were the worst. He had spent an entire day practicing until the words began to sound much less than a stilted speech and more natural. That still didn’t prevent him from sweating and being nervous.

He could see the shock in the Queen’s eyes, and everyone else’s, at the two physically imposing princesses as they exited the Embassy proper. There was a collective gasp from the press people privileged to attend. Then there was an almost physical wave of clicks as the camera operators went into full picture-taking mode.

They had seen Twilight, or pictures of her, as she had travelled around England with her people, but that the other two Princesses were so tall and heavily muscled was a surprise. They looked more like fantasy Amazons than just . . . people. The tremendous sword slung across Luna’s back did nothing to dispel that image. Neither did the gold bracers, greaves, and chest-plate she wore over her black shift — all of which were heavily decorated with Moon phases, complex designs, and gems that appeared as stars. The shift was heavily decorated in gold thread in similar patterns.

Celestia was not nearly as warrior-like, wearing a similar shift, but in white, with designs that reflected her relationship with the sun.

Celestia and Twilight wore crowns of gold, while Luna’s was black.

They walked to the waiting entourage.

The noise of the crowd was still loud.

Princess Celestia frowned delicately as she looked at the hundreds of photographers and videographers that formed a horseshoe cordon around the open pavilion. She smiled slightly at seeing the four Embassy unicorns at the posts holding the canvas up, watching the crowd intently and ignoring her presence completely.

“Well,” she said, just barely loud enough to be heard over their audience, “This is slightly annoying.” She stood still for a moment and the sound gradually subsided to a mere whisper.

The Queen didn’t react, but several members of her staff stared around in surprise.

“There, now,” Celestia said happily, “That’s better. Now we can hear ourselves think.” She looked at the Queen. “They can still hear us quite clearly, so do be careful of what you say.”

Castor nervously cleared his throat. “Your Majesty,” he said, addressing the Queen. “I am pleased to present,” he swept his arm towards the Princess in white, “Her Eternal Majesty, Princess Celestia, Mistress of the Invincible and Unconquered Sun, Bringer of the Day, Destroyer of Monsters, Bane of Evil, Guiding Hoof of the Realm, Monarch of Unicorns, Councillor of Earth Ponies, Commander of the Pegasi, Matriarch of the Night Ponies, and Co-ruler of Equestria and All Their Other Realms and Territories.”

The Queen murmured a quiet, “Welcome to the United Kingdom.”

To which the Princess nodded her head gracefully.

Continuing, Castor turned to the Princess in black. “I am also pleased to present Her Eternal Majesty, Princess Luna, Mistress of the Stars and Moon, Bringer of the Night, Guardian of Dreams and Destroyer of Nightmares, Bane of Evil, Defender and Grand General of the Realm, Matriarch of the Night Ponies, Monarch of Unicorns, Councillor of Earth Ponies, Commander of the Pegasi, and Co-ruler of Equestria and all Their Other Realms and Territories.”

There was another brief exchange of pleasantries.

“It is my pleasure to present,” he said, switching his attention to the Princess in purple, “Her Royal Highness, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, Mistress of Magic, Bearer of the Element of Magic, Saviour of Equestria, Liberator of the Crystal Empire, Biggest Egghead Ever.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and made a face. The other two princesses just smiled at her. “I hate that title,” she murmured. “I can’t believe you did that,” she said glaring at her mentor.

Ignoring the byplay, Castor turned to the lone male. “And finally, may I present Prince Blueblood Platinum, Duke of Paradise Valley, Ambassador to the United Kingdom.”

“Princesses, Prince,” he turned to the Queen, “I present to you Elizabeth the Second,” and recited the rest of her title. He then introduced the rest of entourage starting with her husband, Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh. Then came Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, Prince Charles, Prince of Wales and Duke of Cornwall, and his wife Princess Diana, Princess of Wales. Her other three children Princes Edward, Earl of Wessex, Andrew, Duke of York, and Princess Anne, Princess Royal.

Princesses Celestia and Luna made the appropriate responses in greeting each individual as they were introduced.

There, it was done. He had managed to make it through without once bolloxing it up. He stepped back and tried to become invisible.

“Welcome to our world,” the Queen warmly said. “We had never suspected that a portal to your world existed in our Realm.” She glanced around. “In fact, Our advisors had never even suggested such portals could exist.”

Princess Celestia smiled down at her. “While We have known of portals for millennia, the realms to which they led were almost invariably violently hostile. Had We known We would get such a warm and welcoming reception in one, We might have pursued the subject a bit more diligently.” She glanced around at the entourage. “The truth is, We recently discovered this portal completely by accident — a most fortuitous accident, if We may say so.”

She gave a sidelong glance at her sister.

“Yes,” agreed Luna. “Having another species to share Our discoveries with is a welcome change from Our world. Most of Our neighbours in Equus used to view Us solely as a food source.” She gave them a smug smile. “They learned the error of their ways thousands of years ago. Despite that, we cannot freely share what we know with them.”

“Discovering this portal was a delight,” Celestia said. “You have a rich culture — we are especially taken with your Shakespeare.” She gave Luna another sidelong glance. “Our Sister prefers Monty Python and Benny Hill.”

“We were greatly saddened to hear of his demise earlier this year,” Luna said sorrowfully.

“Our Faithful Student, Twilight, on the other hoof, prefers Dorothy L. Sayers, Agatha Christie, and P.D. James.”

Princess Twilight was blushing.

“This, of course, is part and parcel with your inquisitive natures. You have delved into areas of science that we never dreamed of considering — such as your aeroplanes, television, radio . . . or even your internal combustion engines.”

The Queen nodded and smiled. “And you have delved into areas we never considered,” she said. “As your cures for cancer, and other diseases, have shown. For someone to regrow a lost limb was a hopeless dream to our researchers — but you have made it a reality.

“Plus, there are dozens of other innovations you have shown us that will inspire new discoveries leading to new fields of research. Our recent mission to our moon is one such innovation.”

Luna straightened at the mention of the moon. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I thank you for your generous gift of material from your Moon. It is both different and yet similar to Our own. I look forward to seeing it tonight.”

The Queen blinked, surprised. “You do not have to wait to ‘see’ it, Princess Luna,” she said, nodding her head to one side. “It has already risen.”

“Forsooth?” One second there was a tall woman standing there, then abruptly there was a dark-blue horned and winged horse in her place. Almost immediately, with a single flap of her wings, she was outside the pavilion and hovering as she stared at the whisp of a moon not far from the sun. “Sister! Come look! The sun and the moon do share the sky without conflict!” she called excitedly.

Twilight was shaking her head wryly. “I told her that!”

Celestia gave Twilight a warm look. “Yes, you did, but Luna suspected that there was more — tenseness? — involved than you could detect.”

She turned and called out sternly “Luna!”

“But, Tia . . . ,” she glanced back under the pavilion and sighed. She looked back up and shook her head. “You poor thing,” she murmured. She turned back to the pavilion and flew to her sister’s side, landing lightly.

In her normal form, her eyes were about neck-level with the Queen. She shook her shoulders. “Yes,” she said quietly, “This is much more comfortable.” She smirked at the Queen. “For both of us, We would guess. Yes?”

The Queen’s lips quirked slightly, as if she were holding back her own smile, but she did give a slight nod as she examined the alicorn. Her arm and leg bracers and greaves had changed to become metallic shoes that covered the hooves and fronts of the pastern bones. Her chest armour had become an armoured peytral. All were as intricately decorated as before, with the quarter moon as a theme.

Celestia nodded. “Yes, now that the formal formalities have been observed, perhaps it would be better.” She transformed to her alicorn form. She was only a fingers-width taller than the Queen. If she relaxed her neck a tiny bit, they could see eye-to-eye.

Considering how much taller everyone else was to the Queen — she was the shortest person there — it was probably refreshing to not always be looking up to see someone’s expression.

After a few minutes posing for the photographers, the Queen, her entourage, and the Princesses climbed into the Queen’s specially modified Land Rover and left for the official ride down The Mall to Buckingham Palace.

The interior of the Land Rover had been heavily modified. It now resembled a room in the Palace — albeit rectangular instead of square — with more than adequate seating for the entire group to comfortably speak to each other.

Castor had warned the staff that the Princesses might return to their native form, and suitable pillows had been swapped for their seats before they had boarded the vehicle. The Queen looked at the three Princesses after they were all seated. Luna had elected to sit by a window and was even now looking raptly up at the sun and moon overhead.

“According to what I have been told,” the Queen said after taking a sip of her tea, “You will be staying here for three days.” She raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Celestia nodded amiably. “Yes, Luna and I are quite looking forward to the vacation. It is our first in millennia.”

There was a stunned silence. The books they had secured had indicated that Celestia had been in charge for centuries, but they had not been sure if that was true. It had been possible that it was a series of ponies named Celestia — much like the Dalai Lama in Tibet, where the death of the current monk started a search for his “reincarnated” soul, who then ruled as the continuation of the Dalai Lama.

Elizabeth carefully placed her cup on the small table at her elbow. “Are you immortal?” There was a very slight tremor to her voice.

Celestia shook her head. “No one is immortal, we are just extremely difficult to kill.” She glanced out the window. “I draw my strength form the sun. Luna draws hers from the moons and planets. I imagine that I will . . . pass on . . . when my sun dies. Luna will do the same when her moons and planets are no longer able to generate their magic.”

She turned back to them and smiled warmly. “I had never contemplated just how long that might be until We acquired some of your textbooks. From your books on Astronomy, that will probably not be for many . . . billions . . . of years.” She looked out the window again with a strangely blank expression. She abruptly shook her head. “Unless, of course, magic has another . . . ending . . . in mind for Us.”

There was a profound silence for several minutes.

Elizabeth took another sip of tea and set her cup back down. She sighed, then looked Celestia in the eyes. “You are responsible for the raising and lowering of your sun and moon?” She looked at them questioningly.

Celestia gave her a sweet smile. “Yes. I raise and lower the sun whilst my sister does the same for the moon.”

“Then . . . if I may ask . . . how will that be managed in your absence? Or were you planning on returning to Equestria every evening and morning?”

Twilight gave her mentor a questioning look. She clearly had not been advised, either.

Celestia smiled, more to herself than anyone else. Luna proved she had been listening by giving a short snort of amusement. “As I said, this is Our first vacation in millennia. So, that chore is being handled by somepony who is well suited to the task. It will be good practice for her.”

In Crystal City, a certain pink pony had just passed out and was lying on the floor beside her breakfast table. Maids were rushing around in a panic while her husband hurried to her side and called for a doctor.

Her Royal Highness, Mi Amore Cadenza, Princess of Love, Mistress of Heavenly Affection, Earthly Passion, and Icon of Eros, Guardian of the Crystal Heart, Niece of the Heavens, Liberator and Ruler of the Crystal Empire (aka Princess Cadence, as she preferred) had just received what she thought of as dreadful and horrific news.

The Princess had been calm and happy to see Philomena the Phoenix when she first flamed into their breakfast-room. While her aunts, the Royal Sisters, frequently sent her messages, most came by regular postmare. The official, waxed-stamp on the missive was a bit unusual, but nothing to be concerned about, it just meant this wasn’t a simple note gleefully recounting Celestia’s latest prank on Luna, or vice versa.

She had opened it and began reading. She had paled, her pink fur turning almost white, a faint feeling of horror wafted through the room.

Her husband, Prince Shining Armor, on the other side of their breakfast table, had quizzically stared at her uncharacteristic reaction. “Is something wrong?” he had asked worriedly.

She had looked up at him when she had reached the end of the letter. Her eyes wide in terror and shock, she had started hyperventilating.

“Tia and Lulu want me,” she had said as she stared at Shining in rising panic, “to raise and lower the sun and moon while they visit the Queen of England on the other side of the portal for the next few days!” By the time she had reached the final words she was shrieking, and the pupils of her eyes were mere pinpricks. “Starting tonight!”

Her eyes had rolled up, and down she went.

Hence, the alicorn currently passed out on the floor, and the panic that was rather quickly enveloping the Crystal Empire.

What could be so terrible as to cause their Empress to collapse when meeting King Sombra hadn’t done that?

Somewhere outside of both realities, Discord had fallen out of his armchair, spilling popcorn everywhere as he guffawed in delight.

“Trollestia strikes again!” he finally gasped, before descending into another bout of laughter.

Twilight frowned a moment, then gasped and protested, “You didn’t!?” She stared at her mentor.

Celestia raised an eyebrow in return as she sipped her tea.

Twilight put both hooves over her face.

Luna sighed, and looked over from her window seat. “Princess Cadence has observed Our Sister doing those chores several hundred times. She is more than capable of doing it herself.” She stared at Twilight. “As can you,” she added mildly. “You simply lack practice. The first few times are hardest, until you earn their trust.”

The humans in the room looked at Twilight with a new respect. They had read that there were four Princesses, with the absent Princes being the ruler of the Crystal Empire.

The history of Equestria read like a fantasy story with magic and outrageous villains. At first, they had believed them to be exaggerations, but the more reports that poured in from their people on the other side of the portal, the more likely those stories became.

“What do you mean, earn their trust?” the Queen asked.

Celestia turned her attention back to the Queen, her smirk turning into smile. “Our sun is not simply a ball of gas and nor our moon a collection of rock, as your books tell us you regard your sun and moon. They . . . react . . . to our presence. They . . .,” she frowned. “They welcome our touch.”

The royals exchanged wondering looks.

“Your moon . . . there is something there, but We can’t reach it yet,” Luna said, musing, as she stared out the window. “Perhaps, when sunset arrives, We shall find out more.”

The rest of the short trip to the Square was quiet as they drank their tea and contemplated the concept that stars and moons might be, in some way, alive. Which meant planets were, too. Was the idea of Mother Gaia not the fanciful lark many supposed, but based in a reality none had ever understood?

Once they arrived at Trafalgar Square, the Queen and the Princesses transferred to an official State Carriage — a 1902 Ascot Landau carriage with fold-down top. The plan was for them to be escorted by the Household Cavalry, with street liners coming from the Foot Guards. Union Flags and the flags of Equestria were draped on both sides of the road.

Castor had never thought the Royals would be interested in seeing the Queen’s Mounted Household Cavalry. He hoped it wouldn’t turn into a . . . problem.

The rest would motor on to the Palace.

Naturally, the sisters stalled that plan. Celestia and Luna made straight for the six grey-white horses hitched to the open-air carriage — the weather was cooperating, for once. The horses were well-trained, and only shuffled awkwardly in their harness as the two smaller horses with points on their heads and wings flew over to them. Twilight followed more slowly on foot, staring with wide eyes at the three postilions seated on the left-side horses — the coach had no driver.

The Queen and her entourage were all surprised to see that the three princesses were blushing as they inspected the three men. No, it wasn’t the men that had attracted their attention, but their saddles, oddly enough. Twilight had turned an interesting shade of magenta. Luna peppered the horses with questions, “What’s your rank? How long have you had this job?” and, with a sidelong glance back at the saddles, “Is that comfortable?” to the postilion’s confusion. Celestia, meanwhile, had noticed the ranked Horse Guard before and after the coach.

“Oh, my,” she murmured. “So that really is what they’re for,” she said, studying the saddles of the first rank.

Twilight, looking over at the other ranks, gasped and her blush deepened. “Celestia,” she said, scandalized, “Are those ponies wearing socks in public!?”

Celestia quickly redirected her gaze, then frowned. She quickly trotted over and leaned closer to one black horse who had white colouring on her rear-legs that extended to the bottom of her knees. She straightened.

“No,” she said loudly, smirking, “Those are actually the colour of their coat at that spot.” She gave a sly glance to the embarrassed purple pony, and headed back to the carriage. “Imagine that, Twilight. What would ponies say if they thought you always wore socks in public?” She paused a second. “With a saddle.”

For a moment, Castor thought Twilight turned red all the way to the tip of her tail.

Once more, Discord fell out of his armchair, guffawing in delight.

Shortly, though, the Queen and the three Princesses were seated in the coach, and the procession started off at a slow walk.

Twilight slowly returned to her normal purple coat, though still tinged with a hint of red. She steadfastly refused to look at the horses in front and behind them, instead focusing on the huge crowd that stood lining the road to Buckingham Palace.

The Princesses sat much higher on their seats than did the Queen, which gave the packed throng a clear view of them. The sisters sat in the front, facing backwards, while the Queen and Twilight sat in the back.

Castor and the others headed for the Palace via a different route.

He knew that the Princesses had seen the many books about horses, but the reason for their reactions must be the difference between reading about something that seemed fantastic, and seeing it in real life, up close.

Castor and the rest of the Queen’s entourage knew the moment when the Royal carriage arrived. The booming sounds of the forty-one-gun salute from the cannons in Green Park, with the simultaneous sixty-two-gun salute from the cannons in the Tower of London and City of London, welcomed the Princesses.

In a break with tradition, the Guard of Honour for the event did comprise of senior members of all five House Guard regiments. It was all a great deal of pomp and circumstance as the Queen and her guests stood on the steps of the forecourt of Buckingham Palace. To the watching public’s surprise, as the Equestrian National Anthem was played, the three Princesses stood upright on their hind legs, with their wings spread wide. Twilight was in front of and centred between the other two. The storm of cameras clicking at the impressive sight was not unexpected. They returned to the ground, momentarily, as the band prepared for the next anthem.

As God Save the Queen started, they again stood upright and spread their wings. This time, though, in a move that surprised even the Queen, Celestia and Luna shifted to stand behind the Queen and her husband. Twilight moved down the steps to form a triangle around England’s Royal couple without blocking them.

It made for a striking picture that graced the front page of almost every newspaper in the world. The other governments, and most people, took it as a very public statement of solidarity and friendship between the nations. No one would be surprised when a mutual-aid treaty was announced the next day.

At the end of the anthem, the three Princesses returned to their positions to the Queen’s right. The commander of the Guard of Honour formation mounted the steps and said, “Your Majesties, the guard of honour, provided by the Grenadier Guards, Coldstream Guards, Scots Guards, Irish Guards, and the Welsh Guards, is formed up, and ready for inspection.”

They weren’t the full regiments, of course, only a row of the most senior soldiers from each unit.

While the three Princesses walked in front of the Guards, the selected band played a slow march. Celestia stopped in the middle of the first row to ask one guard to present his weapon for her inspection. When he held it out, she took it in her magic. She popped out the magazine, checked the firing chamber, and took a look down the barrel. She removed and inspected the bayonet, before sliding everything back together in one move and handing the rifle back to the Guard. She thanked the Guard, and commended him on his crisp movements and perfect rifle, then they continued down the line. Luna did the same in the second and fourth rows. Twilight did it in the third row, and a long-distance mike picked up her murmur to the Guard, “Are you as nervous about this as I am?”

Celestia picked someone from the fifth row to conclude the inspection.

In a dramatic departure from tradition, behind the foot-troops were five rows of Mounted Horse Guards.

Celestia and Luna took great delight in inspecting the tack the horses were equipped with, and requested several Guards to demonstrate proper dismount and mounting techniques. Many of television watchers across the world marvelled at how the purple pony could change the colour of her coat to magenta, and if it meant anything.

Discord was pounding the floor with one hand while laughing so hard he was crying. Oh, the stories he planned to tell Fluttershy!

Celestia even flew up and briefly stood on one of the saddles. Her comment that, “We have never before mounted such a large stallion,” left Twilight bug-eyed, and her sister’s coat, dark though it was, still managed to briefly exhibit a slight reddish tinge.

The overheard comment also left a lot of people wondering whether or not they should be scandalized.

It was quite some time before Twilight’s coat returned to it’s normal purple shade.

Following the formal events of their arrival, the Princesses had an informal luncheon with the Queen. Then it was on to view the Queen’s Royal Collection of artefacts, and the tradition of exchanging gifts with the Royals.

“When Equestria was first established, there were those who felt we shouldn’t be there, or that Our ponies were a tasty dinner.” Celestia said.

“It took several decades, and many lives, before Our enemies learned the folly of challenging Us, and left Us in peace. Some still test Us to this day,” Luna concluded.

Twilight opened one of her saddlebags and removed a sword that was longer than she was. It had a polished shine, with a plain hilt, but had clearly seen use. On closer examination, the hilt looked to have teeth marks in the wooden hilt.

Celestia took it from her and presented it, hilt first, to the Queen of the United Kingdom. “Your Majesty, We used many swords in the defence of Equestria against Our enemies a thousand years ago. This sword is one of three that have survived. It has rested in a Canterlot vault since those days, a symbol of Freedom for ponies.” She paused. “Should the United Kingdom ever need the aid of Equestria, in any capacity, take this sword in your hand and call for Us. We will come.”

Elizabeth gently reached out to take it. The moment she touched it the entire sword glowed brightly.

“A promise has been made, a promise will be kept,” Luna and Twilight said as the sword’s glow slowly faded.

After a moment’s silence, the Queen said, “We shall endeavour to be worthy of such a promise, and We will stand by you as you stand by Us.”

That evening was reserved for a State Dinner. Around one hundred and fifty guests were invited to the white-tie event at the ballroom in Buckingham Palace for the banquet. Besides the Equestrian, the guests included members of the extended Royal Family, British politicians, and notable figures from both countries — mostly British.

After the dessert was served, the new defence arrangement between the two nations was announced, and the sword exhibited.

The next day they toured the stables for the House Guard, the Royal Mews. The Queen allowed that with the new “Special Technology” that the Equestrians had made available to them, the stalls for the horses would be greatly enlarged. Currently, they were barely big enough for a horse to turn around or lie down.

Then it was on to meetings to discuss how the two countries could further their ties and cooperation. They were in the 1844 Room, a room usually reserved for meeting foreign dignitaries.

Luna started with, “Thank you for your kind gift of soil from your moon. It’s a quiet little thing, but happy that you’ve chosen to come visit, brief though that was. Are you intending to return?”

The Queen blinked in surprise, before saying, “It was Our pleasure to gift you. It seemed only proper, given your position in Equestria. As for a return?” She smiled, “I am reliably informed that several trips are already under consideration.”

The topics wandered for quite a while, until Celestia said, “I have been told that the air-scrubbers you have installed on your power production plants have been producing blocks of solid carbon as a by-product.” She paused to take a sip of her tea. “If you haven’t a use, yet, for those, We would be interested in purchasing or trading for them.”

At the Queen’s polite look, Celestia explained.

“You see, Equestria hasn’t any large power plants such as you have here, we instead have used hydro-electric dams to supply our needs. So far, they are well-suited for Our needs.

“Pure carbon, as a result, is of limited availability.”

Queen Elizabeth nodded her understanding. “Might I ask why you want these blocks?”

Celestia returned her smile. “Dragon snacks.” **

Prince Phillip looked very surprised. “Dragon snacks?” he said, wonderingly.

“In Equestria, dragons eat gems. They have distinctive tastes, I’ve been told by Our dragon friend, Spike. Rubies tend to be spicy, for example.”

“And plain carbon?” asked Elizabeth.

“Is rather pedestrian. However, it’s not so much the carbon we desire, as that We can easily apply a bit of heat and pressure to make diamonds of the blocks.”

Both Royals looked surprised. “The entire block? At once?” said Phillip.

Celestia nodded. “Although Spike is most interested in experimenting with adding various other elements into the carbon structure to see what tastes he can derive.”

Twilight snorted. “He just wants a reason to stuff himself on diamonds as the taste-tester.”

The other two Princesses laughed.

“There is that,” Celestia said agreeably.

“We see nothing wrong with such an export,” the Queen said. “Our understanding is that the operators of the facilities regard the carbon as a simple waste material. What sort of volume did you have in mind?”

Celestia rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “At first? Only a few tonnes. After that? Probably all of it.”

In response to their incredulous looks, she said, “Most dragons are . . . large. To a fifteen-ton dragon, a hundred-weight of diamonds is the equivalent of a serving of chips for you.” She took another sip of her tea. “Dragons Lair, home of the dragons, could easily consume several tonnes per day.”

“It would also provide Us with a product of interest to the dragons, and induce them into more trade and friendlier relations,” put in Luna.

The Queen shook her head wryly. “Diamonds. As snacks.” She looked over to Celestia. “And it is easy for you . . . your ponies . . . to do?”

The alicorn nodded. “Not difficult at all. A few seconds, at most.” She smiled. “If you could have one of your aides fetch us a sample of coal, I could show you.”

The Queen rang a bell and told the aide who answered what was wanted. The man hurried out.

While they waited, they discussed how the efficiency of the air-scrubbers, and some of the value the power producers had discovered was in the “reclaimed” elements.

Chortling, Prince Phillip suggested, “You might be able to convince the power generating facilities to pay you to take away the carbon blocks!” Then he promised his wife that he would take the project under his “wing” until it was finalized. He promised the Princesses that he would have the first few tonnes collected and delivered with the week.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Spike is going to gain soo much weight before this is over!”

The aide finally returned, but with a shoebox filled with golf-ball-sized coal pieces.

“Excellent!” Celestia said, hefting the mass of raw coal out of the box in a light-gold aura. “Lulu, you handle the excess heat, Twi, you catch the impurities.” She looked at the two royals, and smirked. “We wouldn’t want to make a mess, now would we?” She guided the mass of coal pieces over to a window where the sun was shining in. She carefully stood in the light, with the coal suspended in front of her.

She nodded, first to her sister, then to Twilight.

As they nodded back, a cobalt-blue aura seemed to surround the coal while a pinkish glow seemed to hover below it. The coal clump seemed to be getting smaller and smaller while a tiny rain of particles fell from it. For a brief moment, the clump didn’t change size, then it began to brightly glow. As the glow faded, it left behind a hotly glowing brick that had to be nearly six-inches on a side — half as tall as a sheet of A4.

“There you go,” she said. “We’ll have to let it cool down a bit. Currently the diamond would scorch the table if we set it on it.”

Even from across the room, they could feel the heat radiating from the block.

An aide rushed out of the room.

“I think that is the perfect paperweight for your desk, your majesty!” Celestia suggested. “Or, perhaps, on the mantle?” she looked over to the fireplace.

The two Royals just stared at the impossibility they had just seen.

The three Equestrians returned to their seats and picked up their cups. Celestia kept the block floating halfway to the ceiling, and well away from anything flammable. They sat in silence for several minutes, just watching the block’s glow slowly change.

The aide rushed back into the room and carefully placed a large glass plate with rubber feet down on a side-table, then placed a shiny metal trivet on top of that.

Celestia gave the arrangement a critical look. “Luna, could you cool this down a bit?” A cobalt-blue glow surrounded the diamond for several moments, and they could see the block cooling down as its glow faded from white to yellow to orange. She nodded her thanks to Luna, who cut off her magic. The Princess placed the cube on the metal trivet. “There, that should do nicely,” the white alicorn said. There was a creak! as the trivet heated up under the block. “It’ll take another hour or so before you’ll be able to handle it safely.”

She sighed and returned to the couch and her tea.

“Your note asked if we would like to address your Parliament, and possibly discuss the possible importance of political, economic, and cultural ties between our two countries. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

That evening, when Luna came in from watching the moon set, Celestia gently asked, “Well?”

“ ’Tis as I said before. It’s a timid little thing. It seemed rather startled that I could touch it. Nothing more, however.”

Celestia sighed as Twilight watched interestedly.

“My endeavour was . . . just as disappointing. I can detect something there, but it is disinterested.” She gazed out the window. “If we were here more permanently, I might be tempted to try harder.” She turned back to the room. “But this is not my world, nor that my sun. It would be rude of me to impose. I will leave it alone and not disturb the balance of the system.”

The rest of their stay was rather enjoyable. Both senior Princesses took great joy in seeing a land and culture that was so dramatically different from their own. When the three were not in meetings with the British Prime Minister at 10 Downing Street, there were meetings with the Leader of the Opposition, the leaders of all parties in the House of Commons, and members of the British Cabinet.

They did manage a quick trip to Blackpool, and a look at the piers and Ferris wheel. They also toured the proposed site for their second portal.

Returning to Equestria, for the sisters, was a bit of let-down. As it always is when you return home from a vacation.

Author's Notes:

* If the front bumper moves more than two centimetres, runes immediately trigger an impervious spell on the entire car and everything inside it.

** Thanks to Peter for this suggestion.

My Ko-fi account is available if you like this story.

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Ch. 11. Exceeding Expectations

It was the biggest shock of his new life, earlier in the week, when he had walked into the corridor that led to what he had been told were Myrtle Warren’s toilets. Instead of a “Closed for Repairs” sign on the toilets’ door, as he had been told to expect, he had discovered his Chamber of Secrets had been turned into a tourist attraction! With sign-up sheets posted. The sign affixed to the wall beside the door explained the schedule for student tours, which he had made sure to note. He was fortunate that more students were taken with the . . . Equestrians . . . than with the novelty of the Chamber of Secrets. Thus, his name had been at the top of the list. The first tour would be that Friday afternoon.

For the past three days since that discovery on Tuesday, he could think of nothing else as he waited, hidden. How had they found it? How had they accessed it? And it was only last year that they did it, too! It must have been the doings of those Equestrians.

Why hadn’t that oaf Malfoy informed him of this terrible deed? What his older-self had seen in the incompetent idiot was beyond him.

It was clear the oversight had been on purpose. Bad Faith was living up to his name. He obviously had no idea what the diary was, what that meant, and what it could do. He probably thought it was a pale imitation of a wizarding portrait. Voldemort would apprise him of his error at a later date. With a suitable punishment. Perhaps, forcing him to use his son for curse target-practice for a few hours every day until the boy cowered in fear at the very sight of his father?

Yes. That might be adequate. The screaming would be soothing to his pride, at least.

But for now, it changed his plans completely. He couldn’t savour the terror and despair of his enemies, and the muggle-borns, as he threw Hogwarts into disarray for the rest of the year, distracting them while he gained strength. He would have to search out another hidden spot to complete the final transformation and his triumphant return.

Perhaps the Forbidden Forest? That had its own problems regarding safety, though. The last thing he needed was a Centaur or other animal stumbling upon him before the ritual was completed. An attack when he was vulnerable would be disastrous. Anywhere in the castle proper was right out, the new detection spells they had been told about would pick that up immediately. Not to mention their usage of the Room of Requirement for Astronomy classes and indoor recreation the rest of the time!

With its near-constant use, he couldn’t even check to see if his horcrux was there. The lack of any rumours about a room of lost things gave him hope it hadn’t been found.

The warm-water swimming pool was nice, though.

He needed a location that wasn’t under direct surveillance, and couldn’t be quickly accessed by his enemies if they discovered what he was doing.

He needed a way to get Fumbledork out of the castle, too. His plan of slowly escalating the situation until the headmaster was removed for incompetence just became incredibly difficult, if not impossible.

Especially with those bloody Equestrians everywhere! He had spotted no fewer than a dozen adult spies. At least half of them were their equivalent of aurors, just from the way they moved and kept watch, despite everyone else calling them “Professorial Aides.”

As it was, learning that the Dark Artefact Detection spells had been upgraded had complicated things severely. Still, nothing he hadn’t been able to trick with the right spells — a drop of blood sealed the deal. As far as the spells were concerned, he wasn’t separate from his victim, he was a part of them. As a result, while he might have a severely dark aura, bordering on black, he wasn’t “separate” from his host person anymore. He wasn’t a Dark Artefact, merely a dark aspect of the host, a smaller part, truly. Regrettably, while his soul was hidden behind strong magics, the spells leaked enough to set off the detectors under normal circumstances. However, with the blood connection, the leaks were small enough to be diluted in his victim’s soul aura, and unnoticeable unless one looked directly into the mind of the victim for signs of possession. As a result, his host had only a slight darkening of their aura, nothing that would set off the detector spells.

Fumbledork’s passive and mild mind-grazing would see nothing untoward.

Later, as he drained more and more of his victim’s life-force, that would change and he ran the risk of detection. He needed to stay low and unnoticeable. However, as long as he didn’t cast any non-school Dark spells, he could reduce his risk to the minimum. If he held back the possession, kept as much of his renewed soul in the diary behind the masking spells, he should be safe. The spells looked for a strong dark aura overshadowing a lighter aura, not a lighter aura that continuously became smaller and weaker over the months.

It was a pity to sacrifice a pure-blood . . . no, no it wasn’t. He smirked. How delicious that he would finally have a true pure-blood body! They had look down on him for being a half-blood, at first. Treated him as something barely above a mud-blood — until he had learned enough magic to show them the error of their ways! He’d get his revenge on them, oh, yes, he would. He’d have to start over, again, but that was merely an inconvenience. Soon enough, he would be back in power, and ready to take over wizarding England, just as he had been when he had encountered the impossible.

Defeated by a baby, they said.

A baby? Defeat him? Impossible!

But that’s what everyone claimed.

He would find the truth.

Once the “tour” began, he was very upset to hear the story of how the Professors had determined the location of the hidden entrance, then routed his pet, the basilisk. They had been very thorough in exploring the chamber, and nothing remained undiscovered. The entire Chamber had been meticulously examined, and cleaned. Salazar’s office had been found, and now everyone was allowed a moment to peer inside at the ancient refuge of the great wizard. The original scrolls had been removed, he could tell, and now fakes filled the diamond-shaped cubby-holes that lined one wall.

He smirked. Fortunately, he had removed and studied the truly important ancient documents fifty years ago. They were safely stored in one of his hidden safe-houses under appropriate charms. Those plebians hadn’t discovered Salazar Slytherin’s true secrets!

The ones he had left behind had been either duplicates or not worth the effort. It was interesting to see that the old fools had padded out the cubbies with far more scrolls than he had left behind.

Disappointingly, the one hidden cubby-hole he was able to access had been discovered and cleaned out, as well. He assumed the rest had been found. He was unable to check the others because the Prefect guiding the tour might notice his “unauthorized” exploring. In any event, he wouldn’t be able to search for the remaining secret places until much later. Doing so anytime soon might reveal him to the detection spells set all over the vast Chamber if he came when there weren’t any tours.

He had to admit Fumbledork had done a comprehensive job of making sure no one made an unauthorized entry.

It was disgusting.

Something so impressive and magnificent, brought down to a mere diversion. He pretended to be awed at what he saw, but inside he boiled with rage that non-Slytherins were trampling all over his heritage. Half-bloods, blood-traitors, and muggle-born, despoiling it with their uncomprehending eyes. His hand kept twitching towards his wand, but he knew he dared not do anything just yet.

He would make them pay for such disrespect! Dearly.

Harry had been looking forward to the weekend. Unfortunately, today, it wasn’t his herd-mates waking him up. It was Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Grumbling at Oliver’s enthusiasm for the sport that prompted waking up literally at the break of dawn, six in the morning on a Saturday, Harry dressed in his Quidditch robes.

Normally, this wouldn’t happen until after try-outs later this month. However, last year, the first years had been given the unprecedented option to try out. Thus, the normal second-year try-outs were unnecessary — the qualified second-years were already either on the team as players or reserves! Hence, why delay starting the practices — at least that was Oliver’s reasoning.

Yawning widely, Ron, the reserve Keeper, joined him. When he made it to the common room, it was to see his herd-mates, also yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes, coming down the stairs, too. After a few moments commiserating their loss of a lay-in, they started out for the pitch.

Colin suddenly came barrelling down the stairs and across the room, waving a piece of paper. It was the photograph of him and Colin, and it was moving. Colin alternated between looking at the picture and looking at Harry. Harry in the picture smiled, nodded, and waved out at them. “I heard you coming down the stairs . . . I just printed it last night!” he exclaimed proudly. “Do you think you could sign it now?”

Harry considered. “I don’t have a quill on me, at the moment. Why don’t you develop and print the rest, and then I can sign them all in one batch?”

At Colin’s indecisive look, Harry added, “Besides, I’m off to Quidditch practice, right now.”

“Oh! Oh! I’ve never seen a Quidditch game!” He barely paused before saying, “You’re the youngest Quidditch player in a hundred years, aren’t you?” He trotted alongside the group as they made their way out the portrait hole. “What’s it like?”

“No,” Harry said, “I’m not the youngest Quidditch player, that’s Ginny Weasley.” He nodded at the girl to one side behind Scootaloo. “She was on the team as a reserve last year, and she was only ten at the time.”

Colin gave the girl a wide-eyed look. “Ten?”

“Yes, she was given special permission to start Hogwarts early on account of her mastering the animagus transformation so early.”

Colin’s eyes grew wider. “Really?” he said incredulously, his voice going up a full octave.

He tagged along with them as Harry gave a brief explanation of her being “shown” how to access her animagus form by a powerful wizard, and then how she had learned to do it herself. Then the discussion turned to Quidditch, and how it had seven players. One Keeper to guard the goals, two Beaters who hit balls called bludgers at the opposing team members, three Chasers who took a ball called a quaffle and tried to score points, and a Seeker who looked for a tiny, winged, golden ball, called a snitch, that ended the game.

Colin went to sit on the stands overhead as the rest went into their Quidditch changing room.

Disappointingly, Wood spent almost a full hour explaining the plays he had designed over the summer. He had just finished when George Weasley, one of the beaters, said tiredly, “Oliver. Why couldn’t you have told us all this last night when we were awake?” He gave a big, jaw-cracking yawn.

Oliver was not amused. He grabbed his broomstick and headed outside for the field. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed. The brisk morning air finally finished waking Harry up as the rest were doing their drills, and he began looking around more alertly. He saw Colin sitting in one of the highest seats in the stadium, his camera raised. The sound of the shutter clicking was clear in the still morning air.

Colin waved a hand and called out shrilly, “Look this way, Harry!”

Harry waved genially. He saw Oliver glancing quizzically between Harry and Colin, and not looking very happy. Harry shot across the stadium at speed, and pulled up beside Wood at the goal posts.

“What’s going on?” said Wood, frowning. “Who’s that taking pictures?” He turned and glared at the little firstie. “He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program,” he said loudly.

“Nah,” Harry said dismissively, “He’s just taking pictures for his family. So, they can see the awesomeness that is Quidditch. He’s a Gryffindor.”

Oliver grumbled, and kept casting suspicious eyes on the little wizard for the next two hours as they ran through his new plays.

Harry idly noticed that the stands were slowly accumulating students from all four houses. So much for keeping Oliver’s “new” plays a secret. Students with brightly coloured hair predominated. Several had transformed into ponies and were hovering over the stands, pacing the broomstick riders. This was likely the winged ponies’ first exposure to Quidditch.

While it was slowly gaining popularity among the pegasi in Canterlot, Cloudsdale, and Ponyville, the rest of Equestria had never had the opportunity to see a game. From the excited arm-waving of the students with more normal colours to their hair, he knew the pegasi would be occupying the stadium whenever the teams weren’t.

The reserves had completed one such run-through on a new play and the Gryffindor team was moving to group up to critique their performance. Harry saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes. When he looked, he saw seven people in green robes walk onto the field. They were carrying their broomsticks

Wood noticed almost immediately. “WHAT!” he yelled coming to halt and floating in place. “We have the field today!” He shot toward the interlopers. Harry and the rest followed a bit more slowly.

“Flint!” Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain, staggering a bit from jumping off his broom a bit sooner than he should have. “Clear off! We booked the field two weeks ago! For the entire day!”

Harry glanced at Wood. The entire day? He looked at the castle. Breakfast was almost over, and he was starving. He turned and looked at Wood with narrowed eyes. Had he planned to work them through breakfast and lunch?

Marcus Flint was bigger than Wood by several inches, and more heavily built. “Plenty of room for us all, Wood.” He didn’t sneer, but it looked like he wanted to.

“But I booked the field for the day!” said Wood, positively spitting with rage. “I booked it!”

Flint gave Wood a surprised look. “You did? I didn’t know that,” he said in a way that implied he did, indeed, know that. “Doesn’t matter, though,” he said airily “Professor Snape gave us a specially signed note that gives us permission to use the field to train our new Seeker.” He held up a piece of parchment.

“A new Seeker? A new Seeker?” Wood said, distracted. “Where?” he said suspiciously.

That was when they saw Draco Malfoy. He had been hiding behind the larger and older team members. An easy job, as he was only a second-year, like Harry and the Gryffindor reserve players.

“Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?” said Wood, staring at Malfoy, puzzled.

Flint, and the rest of the Slytherin team smiled more broadly. “Funny that,” he said. “He’s quite the Quidditch fan, it turns out. Look at the generous gift he’s made.”

All seven of them presented their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles, with fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One, gleamed under the Gryffindors’ noses in the early morning sun.

“The latest model, don’t you know? Only came out last month,” said Flint casually, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from the end of his own. “Quite an improvement over all other brooms, I’m told.”

“Oh, cool!” said Scootaloo, stepping closer to inspect one of the brooms. “Now we can have a real game. Last year, with these Nimbus 2000’s, it sorta felt unfair against the other school brooms.” She gestured with her broomstick.

Sweetie Belle nodded. “Yeah.” She frowned a moment, then a smile lit up her face. “I know, let’s get Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff new brooms! That way, it won’t matter which brooms you’ve got, only your skill!”

“Oooh, that’s a great idea!” Apple Bloom said enthusiastically.

“We can make the order out over breakfast, and get it in their hooves by Monday!” said Sweetie Belle happily.

The Slytherins lost their smiles, as did Wood. For different reasons.

Ron’s stomach growled loudly, echoed a moment late by Harry’s. They both blushed as the girls sniggered.

“Wait,” said Wood, “we’ve got practice! I booked the whole day!”

Harry turned and stared at Wood with narrowed eyes. “You were planning on stopping for breakfast, right?”

All he got was a blank look.

“You wanted us to practice all day without a break?” he said incredulously.

Even the Slytherins looked surprised at the thought.

Wood just glared back at him. “We need the practice if we want to win games,” he stated. “Especially,” he glared at the Slytherins, “if they aren’t using their regular broomsticks.”

“You did make arrangements with the elves to bring us breakfast and lunch, right?” Harry said accusingly.

Again, his answer was a blank look. He growled in the back of his throat.

He turned back to the Slytherins. “How about this, Flint,” he said, “We’re going to head in for breakfast. You have the field from now,” he glanced at his watch, “nine until noon, since we had it from six ’til now. Then you can go in for lunch and we’ll take the field from noon ’til three while you eat and recover. Then we’ll swap and you have the field from three ’til dinner. Does that sound fair?”

“Or, maybe,” Scootaloo said, “We could have a pickup game after lunch?” She looked at Flint with an encouraging and hopeful smile.

Flint looked at the others on his team, then shrugged.

Wood was looking back and forth between them. “Hey,” he said, “Wait a minute.”

Harry nodded at Flint, then started off the field. The reserves and Ron quickly followed him.

“But I booked the field for the entire day!” wailed Wood.

The twins were giving him disgusted looks. “If you think we’re going to practice all day without eating, . . .” said one.

“. . . or a break, then you’re barmy!” finished the other. They both started after Harry’s group, the three chasers followed them, leaving Wood gaping, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

The Slytherins were giving the chasers leering looks as they passed each other. Harry glancing back, saw this. “I’ll be just a second,” he said out loud, and trotted back to the Slytherins, who curiously watched him approach. As soon as he got close enough, he said, in a quiet voice that they could barely hear, “You know, if you think the fillies are good looking in the Quidditch uniforms, you should see them in the changing rooms. You should get a few fillies on your reserve team.” He looked at them with raised eyebrows, “Right?”

He didn’t wait for a response, he turned and trotted back to his friends. He looked back just as he left the stadium. Wood stood abandoned on the field and was watching the Slytherins flying overhead on their brooms. Shaking his head, he slowly started for the exit and Hogwarts.

Harry shook his head, too, but for a different reason. While Oliver might think Quidditch was the be-all and end-all of the purpose of being at Hogwarts, everyone else didn’t. If the quidditch captain wasn’t careful, he’d lose the support of the reserve players and they’d quit. That would mean losing the Quidditch Cup for the year if anyone got hurt during a game and they had to play one person down. Their opponent would steamroller them into the ground before the snitch could be caught. Wood might think that a tragedy in that situation, but very few others would.

Unlike previous meetings, this one was “in the field” as it were. They were at the Otterburn Army Training Estate, a live-fire military training estate in northern England. The group composed of John Major, the Prime Minister, the Foreign Secretary, The Rt Hon. Hurd, the Home Secretary, The Rt Hon. Kenneth Wilfred Baker, Field Marshal Sir John Chapple, and himself, Second Lieutenant Searle.

The rest of the aides and security detail had been left in the command bunker.

The Prime Minister cast a critical eye on Searle, “I hope this trip is as important as your note said.” He took a glance around at the vacant target-practice range, and the empty fields around them. At thirty-four square miles, Otterburn was the largest such military range in the country. “It is Saturday, I had to cancel several very important meetings.”

Searle took a deep breath. “It is, sir, it is. Almost as important as the last time I told you of an important meeting.”

That got him a raised eyebrow. Their last such meeting had been the introduction to the cross-dimensional Equestrians — or maybe cross-space, they didn’t know which, yet — requesting an Embassy London.

Castor reached into his pocket and took a small cigarette case out. He opened and removed a small replica of the standard SA80 A2 rifle used by the military, then replaced the case in his pocket. He pressed a small button on the replica. The rest blinked as the tiny replica turned into a full-scale assault rifle with a large scope on top and a very short, barely visible, ammunition magazine. Most magazines were much larger, stretching the length of a person’s forearm.

He looked up at the others. “Princess Twilight was very happy to show me this. She said that this rifle would keep Equestria safe from its enemies for a very long time. She credited several of our ex-military Special Technology people with the ideas, and several Scottish graduates with the design and execution,” he said solemnly. “They’ve already adapted these techniques to the new rifles their Guard uses.”

He gave them a bleak look. “It is the single most terrifying weapon I have ever seen. The normal ‘es a eighty a two’ has a magazine of thirty rounds, and a maximum rate of fire of a magazine a second. Normal, in-the-field, rate of fire is limited to how fast a soldier can exchange magazines. This rifle has no such restriction.” He raised an eyebrow at the Prime Minister, and hefted the rifle. “May I demonstrate?”

The others exchanged looks and put on their ear-protectors.

He took the forward position and aimed at the targets down-range from them by a hundred meters. He took a deep breath, settled the rifle against his shoulder, slowly exhaled, and gently pulled the trigger. The rifle was set to full-automatic, and with such a tiny ammunition magazine it only should fire five shots — maybe.

At least, that’s what the others must think, he knew. How wrong they were.

He held the trigger down. The rifle fired a steady stream of bullets.

Sir John raised both his eyebrows. He knew the sound of that rifle on full-automatic, and this was not the same. It should have stopped after a second. It was more like a machine-gun.

At the two-minute mark, Castor stopped. There wasn’t much left of his chosen target. His voice shook a bit. “A thousand rounds a minute. Unlimited. The magazine has only one round in it. When you go to chamber the first round, the . . . Special Technology . . . duplicates the original and that is what goes into the chamber. The duplicated round requires only a small amount of energy to create as it will vanish after one minute. There’s a power unit in the magazine to help.” He grabbed the barrel of the rifle, which should have been far too hot to hold, and held it out to the minister. “There is a cooling technology on the barrel and chamber to prevent excessive heating.”

The Prime Minister gingerly accepted the weapon, then gave Castor a startled look as he almost tossed the rifle over his own shoulder.

“The rifle weighs approximately three ounces,” the Second Lieutenant continued. “Special Technology is used to reduce its weight, and absorb and stabilize any rifle recoil — chamber recoil is left alone — so there’s no recoil creep, sore shoulders, or vibrations to throw off your aim. Other Special Technology makes it almost impervious to damage — it could hold a Challenger Two tank from the trigger guard, if you had a cable small enough and strong enough to fit. It’s water-proof, and permanently oiled and greased. There is also a silencer component, which I did not turn on.”

He took another shuddering breath. “The scope crosshairs show exactly where the rounds will hit, you can carve your name into a target at four hundred metres. While only a soldier trained in Special Technology can fire it. It can be personalized to the soldier so that if it falls into enemy hands, they can’t use it. Neither can it be disassembled and reverse engineered without it violently exploding.”

The other four were staring at him in shock.

“Oh, no,” he shook his head, “there’s more.” He held out his hand for the rifle.

He popped out the magazine, which was green, and plugged in another that was yellow.

“This magazine uses the same duplication technology,” he said lifting the rifle to firing position. The others hurriedly replaced their ear-protectors.

He didn’t hold the trigger for more than ten seconds, but it was long enough to obliterate, in large explosions, most of the targets down range from them. He popped out the magazine and turned to look at his superiors. “Those were 40mm grenades. The original has been shrunk, an action that is applied to the duplicate as it is generated. The shrinking is cancelled as the round leaves the barrel. The muzzle velocity is the same as the regular five-point-five-six-millimetre rounds, nine-hundred-forty meters-per-second, one thousand rounds per minute.”

They were openly gaping at him.

He pulled a red magazine out of his pocket and held it up for them to see. He did not place it in the rifle. “This magazine is loaded with a 155mm High-Energy tank round, same conditions as the other two magazines.”

He put the magazine back in his pocket as he said, “There’s a fourth magazine for fifty-calibre rounds and a fifth that is a flame-thrower.” He turned a recessed knob on the stock, then pressed it in, and was holding a tiny version of the rifle again. The knob was now the button he had pressed earlier. He put it back in his cigarette case and took out a miniature pistol, a Glock 17.

He held it up. “This does everything the ‘es a eighty a two’ does, except the accuracy is only a hundred metres, not four-hundred, and there is no scope, currently.” He put it back in the cigarette case. “The Princess promised they would have those defects fixed, shortly.”

He looked at them bleakly. “Imagine an assassin with a pistol or rifle like this. What security agent would think a charm bracelet or earring was a deadly weapon? And with the bullets, shells, and gunpowder residue disappearing after a minute when the duplication technology dissipates, what evidence would be left for investigators?”

He sighed. “Plus, there is no reason why this can’t be adapted to the other branches. Imagine an undetectable impregnable supersonic fighter jet not much bigger than a Mini Cooper, with unlimited fuel, a dozen different built-in gun magazines with unlimited ammunition, and unlimited bombs of every type. The pilot could have unlimited food and drink, too.

“Or an undetectable impregnable Navy Scimitar with unlimited range that can outmanoeuvre and outshoot a battleship and cruise at two hundred kilometres per hour. Or an undetectable, impregnable submarine that can stay underwater forever and sink anything that floats. Put a floo on the ships and the crew can spend their nights at home! Use a portkey for the airplanes, and you could change crews without the plane ever having to land.”

He shook his head.

“We need to rethink our entire approach to the military — and security. We have to keep these things out of the hands of our enemies and terrorists. We also need a way to detect them.

“Plus, convincing the Equestrians not to make any mention of this to anyone else.”

Major Tom studied the chart carefully. It listed the various times that their four “experimental” portkeys had activated as their Bristol Bloodhound had shot into space and past the moon. The first had been at thirteen thousand kilometres, the maximum distance a portkey on Earth had ever been used. The second portkey had successfully activated at a distance of two hundred thousand kilometres — halfway to the moon. The third portkey had been set for the Moon’s orbit, four hundred thousand kilometres, another success. Twelve days later, the fourth portkey had safely arrived from fifty-six million kilometres, the distance at which Mars is closest to Earth.

He was still waiting for the fifth portkey. It was not due for another fifty-five days, when the rocket reached four hundred and two million kilometres. That was the maximum range between Earth and Mars. If the sixth portkey worked, as he hoped, four months and twenty-two days from now, it would pass Jupiter’s orbit, leaving almost the entire asteroid ring between Earth and Mars open to exploration and exploitation.

The problem was time. How long did such a portkey take? The usage on Earth was well-known, a few seconds, at most. Portkeying to the shuttle, still parked in orbit, was easy. At perigee it was barely more than the distance from London to Frankfurt, Germany, or Galway, Ireland.

The second and third portkeys delivered definite numbers, to the hundredth of a second: Nine and eleven seconds. Almost exactly. The fourth had arrived twenty-five-point-three seconds after activation. If his calculations were right, that meant the fifth portkey should take between thirty-point-nine-four and thirty-point-nine-five seconds.

So, the farther you went, the faster the trip.

Now, then, the only other variable was if you could survive the trip. Portkeys were well-known to get more dangerous as their distance increased.