23 — Hidden
Major Tom, his superiors, and most of the space-oriented community, were thrilled that the fifth portkey had arrived, right on schedule. Over seventy percent of the Asteroid Ring, and all of Mars' orbit was available to them, all the time, once they got there. With the help of the new telescope on the back side of the moon, the Yanks were helping them map out which asteroids might be worth mining. They had already fielded some questions from mining consortiums.
The Buran was being prepped for its interplanetary voyage. First, Mars, then from there, the asteroids.
Unfortunately, they had discovered, portkeying living creatures farther than twenty-thousand kilometres was fatal. Portkeying a living creature that had been transformed into a statue and then reversing the transformation on arrival? Not dangerous at all. Unpleasant and disorienting, but not dangerous.
It was easy to disguise the long-range portkey as a Special Technology device. They simply made it a standard part of their spacesuit design that used "suspended animation" to prevent harm while using the "Translocator."
In view of David Latham's speculation that he had discovered a planet in orbit around HD 114762, one hundred twenty-six lightyears away this summer, and Aleksander Wolszczan's and Dale Frail's following discovery of two confirmed planets around the pulsar PSR B1257+12, two and a half thousand lightyears away, and the very real possibility of interstellar travel in this century, the scientific community was desperate to find nearby planets. Thus, there were now two telescope stations on the Moon. One at each pole.
With fancy enough coordination and electronics, the two could be electronically linked as one, giving astronomers an effective mirror almost three-and-a-half-thousand kilometres, over two thousand miles, in size. Without an atmosphere to mess with their viewing, finding and actually seeing planets as more than just a single dot was well within the realm of possibility.
As the discovery of the planets around Proxima Centauri and the possibility of more around Alpha Centauri had proven.
They had high hopes for Tau Ceti, a star which was spectrally similar to the Sun, although it had only about 78% of the Sun's mass. At a distance of just under twelve light-years from the Solar System, and the closest solitary G-class star, it was the closest star that would make any colonists, if it had a planet in the habitable zone, feel like home.
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- - -(_)- - -
After classes that afternoon, Harry made a quick run to Bon Bon and Lyra's room. After profusely thanking her, he quickly returned to the common room where the three fillies were still brainstorming on what Chirpy's cutie mark could be.
Both Hermione and Ginny had retreated to the library to work on assignments. Ron was beating the trousers off Dean in a game of chess — even with a handicap of no rooks.
"Hay, Chirpy," he said interrupting their confab in one corner. "I think you might be interested in these." He pulled three books out of his saddlebag — he was wearing it as a belt pouch. The first was Chinese Mythology, by Anthony Christie, An Introduction to Oriental Mythology by NJ Secaucus was the second, and Hindu Mythology: Vedic And Puranic by William Joseph Wilkins finished the stack.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she hurriedly grabbed the Hindu book. She flipped through it excitedly, stopping to read a section occasionally. Then she grabbed the next book and flipped through it, getting more and more excited with each snippet she read. She was practically vibrating in her chair. After she had given the second Chinese book a quick perusal, she jumped up and hugged him, transforming into her pegasus form, wings pumping excitedly as she flew in a circle around him, spinning him with her.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she sang gleefully.
A second later, a brilliant bright light filled the room. When it faded, leaving everyone blinking — except Chirpy, she didn't seem to have noticed anything had happened — there were three books emblazoned on both her flanks, with the faint images of alicorns and human gods on them. She had discovered her cutie mark!
Before they had stopped blinking, Harry heard the swelling chords of a heartsong. The next few minutes were devoted to Chirpy declaring to all and sundry that she had discovered her life's pleasure to be learning about the gods and goddess of other cultures. The rest of the dorm, those that weren't elsewhere in the castle, formed a massive choral backup. Whomever wasn't in the common room came down from their rooms, singing harmony and counterpoint, and interjecting their comments about life and gods as appropriate.
Those witches and wizards who were in the Gryffindor Tower that day gained a whole new understanding of just what a cutie mark meant to ponies. Not to mention the power of a heartsong to induce participation and bring joy to everypony.
At dinner that evening, Harry noticed that for some reason Malfoy and his coltfriends seemed more interested in him. He caught Goyle trying to be subtle at watching him whenever they were in Potions or anywhere else in sight of each other. Hermione told him she had seen Crabbe glaring darkly at him more than once.
۸-_-۸
The day after visiting the hospitals, Castor took the three Lings to a wedding in the morning, and two more in the afternoon. The weddings covered the range from small, with only a dozen or so participants, to large, with nearly a hundred.
The weddings were much more fruitful than the maternity wards, the Lings explained. They had access to dozens of happy and emoting people at one time instead of a single, or set, of parents. Positioning close to the parents and the wedding party simplified and increased collection. One wedding gave them enough for a week, each. If a collector could be present at three large weddings in a day, she would reap enough emotional food for a month. Or thirty changelings for a day.
Satisfied with their findings, that evening, they mapped out their search in Equestria for their abandoned sisters. Tomorrow, they planned to return to the Ponyville Embassy, and Equestria, to start spreading the word. They would have to be very careful; they didn't want any of the Lings their Queen-mother had gathered to hear about this. She would interfere, the two Lings were certain.
۸-_-۸
Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington's Death Day party was unlike any celebration Harry had ever seen or heard of. How Hermione had heard about it, he wasn't sure.
With Sir Nicholas being the Gryffindor ghost, Harry had expected that it would be unusual. However, seeing the long, thin, jet-black tapered candles that lined the corridor to the dungeon room that held the party let him know his imagination was sorely lacking. Especially as the candles all burned a bright blue and cast a dim, ghostly light that made even the ponies appear to be ghosts.
Myrtle, quite naturally, refused to attend. She had had her fill of them, and their cruelty, when she had been a ghost.
That the temperature dropped as they continued onward was unexpected. Having a ghost freeze a pony to the bone if you accidentally walked through one, or it flew through you was normal, he knew. But he had never noticed them making a room soo much colder just by their presence. Or maybe he had just been used to the drafty and cold castle, and never noticed the slight addition when a ghost was nearby.
Then they turned a corner and could see Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes. They could also hear a horrible screeching sound, like two enormous pieces of metal sliding roughly against each other.
"Is that music?" Ron mumbled incredulously.
Harry understood why the fillies and Hermione would want to know more about ghosts. He was interested, too. His mum would find the details intriguing. She might even try to wrangle an invite for the next year. However, Harry could see that Scootaloo was already making the face that said, "Well, I've seen enough. I'm bored. Let's go." But she didn't say anything. They had promised, after all.
"My dear, dear friends," Nearly Headless Nick mournfully said as he swept off his plumed hat and bowed. "So good of you to come. Welcome . . . Welcome."
He waved them inside with a flourish.
"Not a problem, Sir Nicholas," Hermione said cheerfully as she passed him. The rest just nodded, not nearly as enthused at the experience before them as they had been.
It was a sight no pony would ever have believed possible. Harry was there, and he didn't believe it! The chamber had hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people filling it almost completely. On a raised, black-draped platform at one end of the dungeon was the source of that awful shrieking, screeching noise. It was a thirty-member orchestra, playing different-sized musical saws as instruments, of all things!
Most of the ghosts were waltzing, to that dreadful, quavering sound on a crowded dance floor. A thousand more black candles blazed overhead on a chandelier, giving off that same midnight-blue light they had seen in the corridor. Apparently, large numbers of ghosts in one location did indeed lower the temperature of a room quite significantly — the room was like one giant freezer, and their breath rose in a mist before them.
Harry took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. His lungs felt like they were half-frozen. He surreptitiously cast a warming charm on his feet, hands, and robes. He wondered if there was a charm that would act like a mask and warm the air before he froze his lungs, like he was afraid was about to happen.
Hmm. Such a spell would be useful when they were outside during winter, too. He made a mental note to ask Hermione about it later. If she didn't know of one, he bet his mum did. He'd send her a letter and ask, in either case. Hers might be better than the witch version.
They slowly meandered through the room, carefully avoiding walking through any ghosts. Not that that helped as the ghosts had no qualms about flitting through them going somewhere else.
They saw a knight's squire who was somewhat singed around the edges, a gaunt woman with a noose around her neck, several ghosts in sailor uniforms draped in seaweed, and the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Ghosts. Harry wasn't surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost, was being avoided by the other ghosts, with a wide space around him on all sides.
A long table draped in black velvet was on the other side of the room, and it appeared to have food on it. Ron led the way as they approached it, but he suddenly stopped and made a face of revulsion. The rest soon joined him, horrified.
Beautiful silver platters held large, rotten fish; other platters were heaped with burnt, charcoal-black cakes; the pride of Scotland, a giant haggis, was crawling with maggots and flies buzzing about it; other trays held bread and cheese so covered with furry mould that it was difficult to discern what exactly was underneath. Centred on the table, charred and mouldy, was an enormous, tombstone-like, grey cake. The black, tar-like icing said,
SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON
DIED 31ST OCTOBER, 1492
The smell was overpowering and quite revolting.
Astonishing them, Ron said, "Can we move? I feel sick."
Which proved there was a limit to even what he could stomach.
The arrival of yet more ghosts, riding ghostly horses, no less, was an interesting and welcome distraction — especially as it meant the orchestra stopped playing that dreadful "music." The leader of the "headless hunt" was a ghost named Patrick. He didn't seem to notice that his group had more or less taken over Nick's party as they proceeded to play Head Hockey. It was a rather deliberate slight on Nearly Headless Nick's situation, or Patrick was incredibly socially dense. Especially as he, and the others in the hunt, seemed to delight in showing off that their heads were detached by tossing them around to each other in a bizarre game of hot . . . er, cold . . . potato.
Harry and the others didn't stay much longer. After only a short time they already felt as if they'd never again be able to feel their fingers and toes, despite the warming charms. They headed out and up the stairs to the Halloween Feast in the Great Hall. They hadn't eaten since lunch, and expecting ghosts to provide food for the living had been silly, as well as futile.
The Feast in the Great Hall was just as wonderful and exciting this year as last. The dancing skeletons were a surprising new addition that helped make the feast more entertaining. Harry thought they were quite delightful. He knew his mum would be more than interested in meeting them, and learning the spell that animated them.
What would happen if one of them went through the portal?
۸·_·۸
For the first time, both teams in the Quidditch stadium were playing on up-to-the-date brooms that differed only in the tastes of the players and team captains. The Slytherins were playing on Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. The Gryffindor team, however, was using a mix of new brooms. The twins were on their Nimbus Two Thousands from last year, and the three chasers and goal-keeper were on CleanSweep Sevens. According to the team Captains, the CleanSweeps were better suited for nimbleness — a necessity for those positions. The Nimbuses were more oriented towards straight-line acceleration and high-speed. Perfect for Seekers and Beaters needing to be in a new position that wasn't necessarily very close to their current one.
It promised to be an interesting game.
It was, just not in the manner that everyone expected.
A rogue bludger had chased Harry relentlessly back and forth across the pitch while he searched vainly for the snitch and tried to avoid getting hit. It had taken him only a moment's inattention to fall victim to the rogue, leather-covered, lead ball. Malfoy taunting him throughout did not help the experience.
While Harry did manage to get the snitch before Draco, it was at the expense of a broken arm. Which was further complicated by Professor Lockhart muffing a spell and accidentally vanishing all the bones in his right arm, from shoulder to fingertips.
His mum would not be pleased. For many reasons.
Goyle and Crabbe seemed especially pleased at seeing Harry floated off to the Hospital Wing, despite losing the game. Malfoy was too distracted by Slytherin's Quidditch Captain, Marcus Flint, screaming in his face at losing them the game to notice.
After taking the distasteful Skele-Grow — why did all witchery potions taste terrible? — his teammates, and herd-mates, showed up. They wanted to celebrate their win and commiserate his misfortune with a grand party to cheer him up.
Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey chased them all out, claiming he needed rest to regrow his missing thirty-three bones.
It took an inordinate long time for him to finally fall asleep.
۸-_-۸
Harry woke with a small yelp of pain. His arm felt as if it were full of large splinters, all wriggling and moving slowly, like a batch of worms. He blinked, looking around. It was almost too dark to see. With a shock, he realized someone was touching his forehead in the dark.
"Shite!" he exclaimed and tried to move away from the giant eyeball inches from his face.
Tennis-ball sized eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. After a moment, Harry realized it was Dobby, the house-elf.
He looked miserable in the dim light. "Mr. Harry Potter, sir, came back to Hogwarts," he said softly. "Dobby tried to warn Harry Potter. Ah sir," he sighed mournfully, "why didn't you stay home?"
"What're you doing here?" Harry said as he pushed Dobby's sponge away. He leaned up on his good elbow. "Besides, did you see how many adults were with me? Do you really think they would have let me stay at home?"
Dobby looked away and sighed. He turned back to Harry. "Harry Potter must leave Hogwarts! Dobby believed his bludger would be enough —"
"Your bludger?" said Harry, anger lacing his voice. "Your bludger? You tried to kill me with that bludger?" he said fiercely. "You'd better get lost before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you."
Dobby smiled weakly.
"Death threats mean nothing to Dobby, sir. At home Dobby is threatened five times a day, at least."
He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore. He looked so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself. He sighed. He knew from his mum's house-elf, Squeaker, that house-elves were bound to their master's family, no matter how badly they were mistreated. They would live and die with that family, unless given clothes first.
Of course, badly treated elves didn't give the best service. They would execute their commands exactly as ordered, but not one iota more than the order required. Plus, as any officer in any army will tell you, any order that can be misunderstood, already has been misunderstood.
The filthy pillowcase that Dobby wore was a badge of pride among house-elves, proof that they weren't a burden to their master in any way, shape, or form. For him, it was a sign that his family didn't care about him, that he deserved punishment. Which was why he was here. Any house-elf who would defy his master by assisting an opponent was clearly not sane.
"But not kill Harry Potter! Never kill!" Dobby remonstrated, tears leaking from his eyes. "Dobby wishes to save Harry Potter's life! Better seriously injured at home, than be here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter sent home!"
"Really?" said Harry angrily. "It never occurred to you that with magical medicine anything that isn't fatal is generally just an inconvenience?" He glared at the house-elf, who wilted a bit under that gaze. "Why," he demanded, "do you want me sent home in pieces?"
Dobby tearfully explained how the house-elves had been mistreated when Lord Voldemort had been ascendant. That he had routinely tortured and killed them as mere entertainment, and encouraged his followers to do the same. How his disappearance at the Potter house that Halloween eleven years ago had had been a new dawn for those down-trodden house-elves. How Harry Potter became a beacon of hope, their saviour. He ended with, "And now, at Hogwarts, evil, true evil, stalks the corridors and dungeons of Hogwarts —"
He stopped, horrified.
"N-no more, sir, ask n-no more of poor Dobby," stuttered the elf, his eyes huge and almost glowing. "Dark deeds are planned, dark deeds indeed. Harry Potter must not be here when they happen! Harry Potter must go home," he said emphatically.
Harry sighed. "Like anyone will let me," he said gloomily. "As I told you, the Princesses want me to come here." He stared at Dobby. "When somepony who can make the sun rise, set, or make a figure-eight in the sky, at her whim, asks you to do something, only a fool says no. The last pony who seriously dared to disobey her, her own sister, she exiled to the moon for a thousand years." He looked away for a moment. "I am not a fool."
Dobby stared at him, eyes wider than usual. They almost looked like they would fall out and roll across the floor. "The Sun? The Moon?" he breathed. "A thousand years?"
Harry nodded. "Her little sister, Luna, took care of the sixty-foot basilisk that used to live in the Chamber of Secrets, last year. She controls the Moon and stars in Equestria. She said she thought the basilisk would make a nice pet to keep the Canterlot nobles in line."
"Chamber of Secrets?" the house-elf whispered. "It's empty?"
Harry nodded. "Yep. They have regular tours of the Chamber every weekend." He paused and frowned at Dobby. "I'm surprised you hadn't heard about that."
Dobby numbly shook his head. "Dobby bes not allowed to hear news or gossip."
Harry sighed and nodded. "So, you see, I can't leave."
Dobby shook himself, almost like a dog shaking water from its fur. "Harry Potter must stay safe!" he declared. "Dobby will keep you safe!"
He POPed away.
Harry collapsed back down onto the bed, His right arm tingled abominably, but it was stiff and rigid. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey had cast a spell of some kind that prevented his arm from being jostled while he slept. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
Only Celestia knew what that insane little house-elf was up to. He could only hope he survived being "protected."
Tomorrow he would send a message to his mum, and give her the warning that "evil stalked the corridors and dungeons of Hogwarts." Plus, how and why he was in the Hospital Wing. As he had heard mentioned in one of the movies they had watched over the previous summer, this was way above his paygrade.
۸·_·۸
The days went by just as quickly as they had the previous year. His mum dropped by several days after the Quidditch game and its aftermath, and stayed for dinner. She was quite displeased with what he had written her, and spent the afternoon yelling at the Headmaster. However, as the Headmaster had pointed out, what had happened had been instigated from outside the Castle, and he couldn't track all the house-elves simultaneously all the time. With as many house-elves as were employed by Hogwarts, it wasn't possible to spell the castle against them, or it would severely impact the castle's habitability.
Trying to ward the inhabitants of the castle against violent intentions wouldn't work. They'd be retrieving students from Hogsmeade daily, as every student at one time or another would be angry enough to want to harm another student — especially girlfriends or boyfriends when they discovered their "love" had cheated on them. Of even just suspected that they had cheated. Not that they would actually carry out such intentions, but the spells couldn't tell the difference.
Harry and the herd studied magic diligently, as did the Equestrian Firsties. Being the cream of the crop of students in Equestria meant they were picking things up at a ferocious rate. Especially as most of them were what many of the Gryffindors referred to as swots — that is, extremely studious.
Unfortunately, this also meant some of them were quite clever at getting into things they shouldn't. Every weekend at least two Equestrians were kicked out of the Restricted Section in the library — despite Madam Pince, the librarian, being the only one with a key to the room!
Which meant, in turn, that they asked their questions of the professors while in their detentions instead of just wandering through the aisles in the library, picking books at random.
Why the professors thought they were punishing the over-achievers with extra lessons was a mystery to the ponies. The unicorns and pegasi took the detentions with Professors Sprout, Flitwick, Lupin, and McGonagall as remedial lessons to help them improve their grades. The earth ponies felt the same, except the detentions with Professor Sprout were highly prized as they explored the limits of what she knew about plants, and the effect earth ponies had on plant growth.
Professor Snape refused detentions with them when he discovered what the four assigned to him one evening did after cleaning the classroom by hand as he had instructed. Bored, unsupervised while he was distracted reading assignments in his office, they had reorganized his potion ingredients — by smell.
The fillies worked just as industriously to help the other two Equestrians who hadn't yet found their cutie marks — which sometimes ended up with them in a detention. Or covered in tree-sap. No pony quite understood why they kept finding bottles or barrels in so many rooms, but they did. Knocking over a bottle was understandable, especially if you didn't notice it was tucked at the back of a shelf. How you could get a wooden barrel to spontaneously erupt and shower the room with sap was a mystery. But the Cutie Mark Crusaders somehow managed that feat.
Scootaloo darkly complained that the castle was pranking them with the tree-sap.
Harry blamed Discord.
The first-years continued to push the boundaries of what was expected. Despite assurances from all the other years, and the professors, that they were wrong, the Equestrians still considered detentions to be "extra" lessons. The professors were off-balance at the discovery, and clearly flummoxed at the realization that what they considered punishment, the first-years were looking on as rewards. The points lost to the detentions were always recovered in the classes with how quickly the ponies picked up the lessons and answered the questions.
Professor Kettleburn didn't know whether to be proud or horrified that the Equestrian unicorns had managed to catch one of the younger unicorn fillies in the forest and had her in one of the unused classrooms. His first instinct was to dock them an incredible number of points for the dozen rules, at least, they had broken. Then he wanted to reward them an equal number of points as a reward when he realized they had taught filly to shoot red and green sparks from her horn. The filly seemed quite pleased with herself and not at all upset with her abduction.
He made them release the filly back to its mother. Who, oddly, hadn't seemed all that upset about the incident, either.
It didn't help that when they assigned a detention to a student, several usually showed up for the "extra" lessons. It was a situation that was both gratifying that the students were so eager to learn, and frustrating that the professors couldn't seem to control their students' enthusiasm for mischief.
New "secret" passages continued to be found at irregular intervals. One wall that used to pretend to be a door, was now a real door. Two steps in and you were waist-deep in the lake — which was getting rather cold! The Astronomy tower now had a slide to the ground floor hidden behind a zodiac chart. Then there was a hidden trapdoor directly in front of a landscape of a lake. Sneeze while standing on it, and you fell straight into a large, warm swimming pool.
The professors had followed the wet-trail left by the Firstie who found it, when she first trudged out of the dungeons. But, sadly, it ended in a blank wall that stubbornly refused to give up its secret. It didn't matter. Most students preferred the trapdoor drop.
Still, it was a nice, and popular, discovery. There was a lot of fake-sneezing students wandering the castle for several days after that — but no new discoveries.
Oliver Wood had frequent Quidditch practices, of course. With all the other things taking up their time, how the herd found time to do their assignments puzzled Harry, sometimes. Book-walking certainly helped, though! He thought the professors didn't understood, just yet, how powerful a tool that was in learning.
Sweetie Belle continued to "invent" new potions that were always a surprise. A swelling potion that shrunk ponies to half their normal size, a strengthening potion that made ponies weak,* a potion that gave everypony beaks, and another that gave everypony toad-like skin — for that one, most of the girls, and Malfoy, secluded themselves in their rooms and refused to leave until the potion wore off overnight.
As a result, everypony in their Potions Class was becoming quite accomplished and quick at casting a shield charm and the bubble-head charm — some even managed to do it soundlessly! Only rarely did they guess right on which they should cast first. However, it was good practice. Plus, sometimes the . . . alterations . . . induced were fun . . . sometimes. The most hated one gave everypony flippers for hands and feet for the evening. Dinner that evening was . . . awkward . . . to say the least.
On the other hoof, Neville hadn't melted a single cauldron. Nor exploded a potion. Under Professor Slughorn he was positively thriving in potions. His love of Herbology was evident in his understanding of how different components of a potion interacted.
۸·_·۸
Author's Note: * The potion that does the opposite effect of what it's supposed to do was Senko's (FIMfiction) suggestion.