But I wanted a Pony
Chapter 19: Once upon a time at Hogwarts.
Just behind the shrieking shack, one late, wintry afternoon in summer, there was crack of apparation, and a witch appeared, wearing a dark cloak, a jaunty little hat shaped like a boat pinned to her blonde hair, and sensible black buttoned boots. She looked around, narrowing her eyes, and cast a spell silently on the back door of the shrieking shack. The nailed-on planks floated off, and the door opened. She smirked and walked in, the door closing behind her.
She grimaced at the dusty, dirty mess in what might once have been a modest kitchen, and picked her way, holding her cloak out of the mess, into the middle of the building, where she cast a witch-light, and rummaged in her cloak pocket. Her arm disappeared deeper and deeper till she was bent over, muttering curses. She finally said "Got it!" and stood up, holding a silver gimbal with an ebony rod in the middle, covered in brassy numbers. She peered at the numbers, and set them to 22031980342136-19951013141010, which felt appropriate as it some of it was her birthday, and the dimensions she'd had when she got married, and pressed the brass button on one end. In front of her, a tear formed in the world, dripping blue motes that fell to the ground. She took a deep breath, and stepped through.
Into the room she'd just left, covered in slowly fading blue motes. Without a witch-light. She released the button and the tear in the universe sealed up.
"Hmh" she huffed, and tentatively picked her down the groaning cellar stairs into the cellar, and walked over to a rotting trapdoor. She grimaced at the sight of the slimy ladder, and descended.
By the time she exited the tunnel under the whomping willow, her cloak was streaked with mud, her little hat had been stowed in a pocket, and her hair, like her cloak, was muddy. She blew upwards, blowing some stray hair out of her face, and pressed the knot on the trunk of the willow; which froze. She squeezed out of the hole, getting even dirtier, and with a sigh, started plodding towards Hogwarts castle, looking filthy.
On the way, she tapped herself on the head, and vanished.
Some time later, the door to one of the girls loos on the third floor opened and closed on its own.
Then the doorknob vanished.
Inside the institutional-green painted bathroom, a muddy adult witch appeared, wand in hand and eyed her reflection in the mirror.
"Oh Merlin. Ugh." she complained, and started, wordlessly charming her hair clean, one soiled hank at a time. Then her robe hem, cloak, and boots. Much later, she reached into her cloak pocket for something and rummaged. And rummaged, and bent lower and lower, as her arm went in to the elbow, then the shoulder, finally she pulled out … a crumpled hunter green felt hat smeared with mud.
"Oh you poor thing" she said, and started charming it clean, wordlessly, then tried, futilely, to un-crumple it. Having got a bit wet, it stayed crumpled.
"I'll get you fixed I really will" she said quietly, and put the hat back in her space-expanded robe pocket.
She tidied her hair with a charm, cleaned off her face with another – revealing some freckles across her nose and slight crows-feet around her eyes, and reapplied foundation with a whispered conjuration. She tipped her head up, checked her face from three angles, and made the doorknob reappear. She set off down the hall, stopping suddenly.
"Doh!" she exclaimed, and disillusioned herself with a tap of her wand.
A little while later, the bell in the clock tower rang, signalling the end of the period. Moments later, the door opened with a bang, and a pair of large teenage boys in black work robes, both overweight, popped out of the room and headed off, book-bags swinging. Behind them, striding with his nose up, came a blond teenage boy with a rather narrow face. Whoever had suggested he use so much hair gel had done him no favours.
"Crabbe, Goyle!" he exclaimed "Wait for ME!" He sounded entitled, and petulant.
The two bigger boys rolled their eyes and waited till he'd caught up, then set off again.
A trickle of teenage students in robes left the classroom chattering, or just carrying their book-bags.
A blonde teenager left the classroom practically elbowing the auburn haired girl next to her, and proceeding along the hallway, nodding her head to some unheard song.
Suddenly, the auburn haired girl said "Gotta dash Daph – urgent call of nature!" and hustled off to the girls loos just six doors away.
The blonde walked along with her book-bag, dawdling in the diminishing flow of students leaving the classroom and heading elsewhere, until some invisible force seized her, and drew her into an abandoned classroom.
The door shut with a gooey squick sound, and the adult blonde witch appeared.
"Excuse me for abducting you" said the witch "Had to have a chat with you."
The teenage witch fumbled in her sleeve, and drew out a wand, which she aimed at the older witch. It wavered slightly. "Let me go at once!" she said loudly. The wavering wand didn't look particularly threatening.
"Look, I'm you," said the witch, "Time travelling, obviously."
"Rubbish!" exclaimed the teen, her wand growing stiller.
"You like to read about princess Stephanie and the half-mute stable-boy, in bed, on your own with our quite whippy Elm and unicorn-hair wand." said the witch with a wry smile.
The younger witch blushed, and her knuckles whitened in her wand.
"Look. I'm here to tell you things to make your life better." said the witch.
"You're not me." said the teenage witch.
"Years of crank diets dearie" said the witch "And a few pregnancies. Morgana you're so wet."
The teenage witch rolled her eyes.
"Don't you roll your eyes at me!" snapped the witch "Its terrible manners. Our middle name is Queenie, and mummy gave it to us before she had a good grasp on English. She and daddy carry on in the office…. You saw things last Easter. And honestly, while it was shocking at the time, having tried it, it's quite fun if you're in the mood."
"That's disgusting"
"Oh Morgana, I was such a prude," exclaimed Daphne. "Look. Voldemort's back, there's going to be a war, and if you don't take action, you'll end up unwillingly married to my husband."
"So I should stop that?" asked young Daphne.
"God no – he's better than I'd choose at your age. You need to make sure he doesn't end up resenting you. Take him on a few dates… snog his brains out… get snogged silly, the usual. And most importantly, prevent him from going to the Ministry after exams this year."
"Who?"
"The head of the house of Black, well he will be." said Daphne. "Tall, handsome, rich."
"Malfoy! Ew! No way!" said young Daphne, "Gag, vomit!"
Daphne rolled her eyes, "Harry Potter actually – his godfather, Sirius Black leaves him everything; vaults full of gold and a family business that's a dire mess. Oh god – you have to get Sirius to kick out the Squatters at the château in France."
"Sirius Black, the escaped insane mass-murderer, He-who-shall-not-be-named's right-hand man?"
"That's a horrible mistake. He's not a murderer, though he might be mad." said Daphne. "I didn't meet him before he died."
"Look this seems all very – " started the young Daphne.
"Look, I'll write it all down. God. Concentrate!" said Daphne. "Play your cards right, and you'll be the happiest witch alive, loaded, with a French Château and a tall dark handsome husband. Who, I might add, will end up adoring you."
"He's short!" snapped young Daphne.
"This summer he grows like a foot" said Daphne "By the time he's eighteen, He's five foot eleven, and has cheekbones that could cut glass."
Daphne grabbed young Daphne's bookbag and got out quill, ink and parchment and started to write briskly.
"That's my handwriting!" exclaimed young Daphne.
"Oh Merlin. I'm you." said an exasperated sounding older Daphne, starting writing again.
"I'm not doing this" said younger Daphne "I refuse to be … enslaved by some stupid marriage contract."
Daphne looked up from the parchment "Good. I'm trying to get you out of this. Well, and prevent the war. Many people died."
"You're just trying to set me up with Harry Potter" accused younger Daphne.
"Oh good, you were listening" said Daphne. "And as I said to my husband, about ten years from now, I'd never have chosen someone like him. I'd have chosen a handsome, well-dressed idiot."
Younger Daphne rolled her eyes rudely.
"Look, he grows. In better clothes he's handsome, well-dressed, and sarcastic. Much less boring in the long term, and you will literally never find a shag as good."
"As good?" said young Daphne "What is wrong with you?"
"There's nothing wrong with me; you've lived a sheltered life. Oh… he's a lot worse for that than you, get Granger to get a factual book about human sexuality. The Kinsey Institute new report on sex changed his life. Well, and mine."
"Granger?" asked young Daphne, frowning "Why the hell would I ask Granger anything?"
"She's his best friend. Well, one of two." said Daphne. "Oh- -and for gods sake start standing up for Perks."
"Perks?"
"Sally Anne Perks. You know, the girl you let get bullied for four years in your dorm room?"
"But she's a … muggle-born."
"So what. Squibs have children. It's a thing." said Daphne blithely. "She's lucky to have proper magic. Oh."
Daphne paused and eyed young Daphne, "Sally Smith thinks you're gay."
"Why would she think that?"
"Because you don't date, or talk about boys, and she's gay. Sometime soon she's going to very awkwardly ask you to Hogsmeade." said Daphne . "On the other hand, one of the Carrow twins is gay."
"Which one?"
"Sally can ask both. It's like two minutes work" said older Daphne dismissively.
Time passed, with many terse explanations, and about a score of sheets of parchment covered in tidy handwriting.
-==0==-
Daphne Greengrass entered the fifth year Slytherin girls dorm, made a bee-line for her bed, got onto it and pulled the curtains. A quick privacy charm and she could scream in private.
There was no way her daddy would betray her like that, selling her off to Malfoy; he'd laughed at Pansy's thirteenth birthday, when Daphne had pushed Draco into the duck pond.
-==0==-
Harry Potter was leaving a perfectly dreadful potions class, where he'd tried really hard, and Snape had vanished his potion before he could bottle it, when vice-like pincers pulled him backwards into a deserted dungeon room. Harry twisted around as the door shut.
A girl, a blonde girl, had just pulled him into a dungeon room. Harry was quite sure she wasn't a Gryffindor; so she was probably a Slytherin.
"Sorry for that, but we just have to talk" said the girl. She reached past him and bolted the door.
"Huh?" asked Harry.
"Oh, I'm Daphne Greengrass, and we're going to be in a marriage contract." said Daphne. "It's all because my father's a coward, apparently." She frowned and pursed her lips.
"A what?" asked Harry. The girl glared down at him, she was slightly taller than him. And had blue-grey eyes. Harry knew – she'd just told him that she was Daphne Greengrass. He suspected he'd seen her often in potions, and maybe in Hogwarts choir stuff. And she was completely mad.
"Look. I time-travelled and I told me, myself stuff, to prevent bad things from happening" said Daphne.
"Look, this is clearly just a Voldemort plot" said Harry snidely.
The girl put her hands on her hips "This is NOT a Voldemort plot. This is me looking after myself. You and I are getting married, apparently. That's a plot by Mrs Malfoy; and we need to stop that plot."
"Why?"
"Because it also involves my little sister marrying Draco Malfoy" said Daphne sharply "And I don't care if she thinks he's got pretty eyelashes, she's not marrying that arrogant, spoilt prick."
"Huh?" said Harry, scratching the hair on the back of his head. She didn't like Malfoy? But she was in Slytherin. Also, this made no sense.
"Come meet me in the Charms corridor after lunch, I can explain everything, I gave myself notes." said Daphne.
"Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle in time" quoted Harry, determined not to lose his way under this verbal assault.
"Good thing I'm a witch, then, isn't it!" said Daphne, and she brushed past Harry, unbolted the door and left, going past Hermione and Ron with an oddly polite "Weasley, Granger… see you after lunch I expect."
"What on earth was that about?" asked Hermione, coming into the dungeon room.
"Obvious innit" said Ron "She nabbed Harry, dragged him off to a dungeon room and snogged his face off."
Harry sighed "She bloody didn't." Ron was such a bloody prat.
"Oh no, did she hex you?" asked Ron "'Reckon we can take her."
"After lunch, Charms corridor" said Harry tiredly.
"What's going on?" asked Hermione.
"I honestly have no idea. It could be some marriage contract rubbish" said Harry.
Ron snorted. "Yeah, pull the other one Harry." He shook his head. "Next thing you'll be like the scion of an ancient lost family or something."
"Ron, he's an orphan. Have some sensitivity" said Hermione tiredly.
"Guys," said Harry, "this is gonna be weird." I'm dunno what a scion is. How would I know anyway.
"Only one thing for it then" said Ron.
"What?" asked Hermione "Should we stock up on emergency potions, get Harry's cloak?"
"Nah, get to lunch early, and have a good meal, drink plenty of fluids and have second helpings." said Ron. Ron winked at Harry.
"Does he think about anything except food?" asked Hermione rhetorically.
Harry resisted mentioning that Ron also thought about quidditch, and girls, in that order. He didn't think it would help. Also, Ron was intentionally provoking Hermione, which was mental. Don't poke the bear. (Or the walrus or the lemony giraffe or the baby whale.)
"Why Harry?" asked Hermione.
"It's complicated, and there's more details after lunch." said Harry. He wondered if there'd be bacon. A bacon buttie might really hit the spot. And now Ron had him thinking about food.
"Harry" said Hermione in a peeved tone.
"Look, Greengrass did some time-travel from the future and came back and told herself how things go in the next few years. She's got instructions on how to prevent some bad stuff." Harry felt his cheeks warming. "And some other stuff."
"Other stuff?"
"Well, in the future, we got married." said Harry "It was some plot by Mrs Malfoy, and she wants to prevent it."
"Oh I dunno" said Ron "She's alright, for a Slytherin, I suppose. Pretty face."
"RON!" said Hermione crossly.
-==0==-
Two utterly delicious Bacon butties later, Harry considered his life. Pro: just had bacon butties. Con: weird shit this afternoon. He did what any right-thinking teenage boy would, and had a third bacon buttie.
-==0==-