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Part 15 The Taking of Seamus The sun was beating down on the meadow, making for a perfect summer day as Seamus Finnegan and his best and lifelong friend, Darby O’Gill, rode up on their bikes and jumped off of them. They let them fall over in the tall and soft, green grass that surrounded the pond. The pond was their favorite swimming hole, and when the weather was good, they spent all of their free time in it. When the weather wasn’t good, they spent their free time with their closest neighbors, the Kearnys. This particular day, however, proved to be exceptionally good. So with broad grins on their faces, they ran through the grass to the small bit of sand at the pond’s edge. “Swim or fish?” Darby asked excitedly, glancing over at the homemade fishing poles leaning against a nearby tree. They were little more than long, thick sticks with small holes bored in the end with fishing line tied on, but they worked. The only ‘real’ part of them was the hooks. They’d left them there the previous day, and no one had bothered them. No one ever did. It was a very difficult decision. “OK, swimming then,” Seamus agreed, although somewhat reluctantly, kicking off his sneakers and digging his toes into the hot sand. He looked down and grinned. He was quite proud of the sand, since he’d created it. Most of his left eyebrow had come back within a week from creating the small bit of sand last summer for the beach. It had earned him a warning from the Misuse of Underage Magic Department, but he’d nonetheless gotten to keep the sand. Of course, they’d been planning that very thing for quite some time already. They looked around, grinning, remembering how they’d come to have such a fine swimming hole. And they hadn’t gotten it with shovels and hauling, either. Seamus had used Magic, at Darby’s suggestion. There had been only one catch to Darby’s grand plan: underage Wizards weren’t allowed to use Magic unless it were a real emergency, and they certainly were NOT allowed to announce their status and/or Powers to Muggles! Seamus hadn’t considered this fact when he’d told Darby what he was, right before he’d been cut. Having already had some training by his Witch of a mother, Seamus had decided that they were in need of sand at the edge of their swimming hole and Darby had agreed fully. The rocky bar of gravel where a small stream fed into the pond simply wasn’t pleasant on small bare feet, and Seamus felt that he could remedy this situation and begin his friend’s instruction in the Wizardly craft as well. It also hadn’t occurred to Seamus, being all of ten years old at the time, that you were either a Wizard or a Muggle and that no amount of coaching or wishing was going to MAKE you into a Wizard if you were a Muggle. Nevertheless, with all of the enthusiasm of a pair of mischievous young boys, they’d gone on ahead with their plans. The first thing that had happened, after sneaking his mother’s Wand out of the house, had been when he’d shown it to his friend. They’d both oooh’d and aaah’d over it, and then Seamus had aimed it at the gravel bar and said Pulverize! Unfortunately, he’d put just a bit TOO much force behind his word. Seamus was prone to doing that. At about that time, an alarm had gone off at the Ministry of Magic, and a high speed-racing owl had been dispatched to Seamus’ house with a warning for him about Misuse of Magic by an Underage Wizard. The next thing that had happened had been a horrendous explosion in the proximity of the tip of the Wand. A split second later, most of Seamus’ eyebrows had been burnt off, along with his long bangs that had come well down past his eyes. About a second later, a huge spray of gravel and sand (which had been the general idea, to create sand from the existing rocks) flew in all directions. It also took a sizeable chunk of dirt with it, along with several unhappy frogs, fish, turtles, snails and one VERY angry badger. This of course had altered the flow of the incoming stream, and the size of the pond. Not only were the two stunned boys left with the beach they’d wanted, but with a larger pond as well. The underground spring which fed it, seizing upon the opportunity of being let loose after so long, happily filled in the gaping hole in the ground and left the two of them standing butt-deep in ice cold water and with MUCH more sand than they’d planned on having. At about that time, there had been a soft POP behind them and a balding red-haired gentleman in a shabby green robe had Apparated (popped in out of thin air) to see what the cause of the commotion had been. He’d been followed almost at once by Seamus’ mother, who had been less than impressed with her son’s handiwork. “Looks like a nice, short flat-top haircut fer YOU now,” she growled, snatching back her Wand and smacking Seamus’ butt with a loud SLAP! “And YOU!” She’d snapped at Darby, who had just sat down on the ground, stunned by the destruction that Seamus had caused, “If I could only tell your mother! I should jus’ beat both o’ yer arses raw!” “How much does the Muggle boy know?” The Wizard asked, taking out a small notebook and a quill. Seamus’ went red in the face, looking down at the ground. “Everythin’,” he mumbled. His mother and the red-haired Wizard just looked at him in disbelief. “Everything?” The Wizard asked him in a pained voice. “Magic, Wands, Hogwart’s? The lot?” “The lot,” Darby had admitted, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. “Seamus wants ME to be a Wizard too!” Mrs. Finnegan and the man in the green robe just groaned. “Well, it was kinda obvious somethin’ was weird,” Darby defended them, “Since Seamus ain’t got electricity er a telephone er nothin’ like that, and he dint even know how ta ride a bike when we wuz little! I knew somethin’ was odd, just like the Kearnys down the way. They’re odd too!” And then it seemed that something else was coming to Darby’s mind. Whatever it was though, he didn’t vocalize it. He just smirked. “Never mind,” the adults said together, grinning at one another. BOTH boys had been grounded for a week over that little adventure, but much to Mrs. Finnegan’s and Seamus’ surprise, Darby hadn’t had his memory altered, as was the practice when a Muggle had been exposed to Magic. “I think we can skip it this time,” the harried looking Wizard had said, eyeing Darby suspiciously and making notes. “Seeing as how you’ve sort of told him EVERYTHING already!” He said to Seamus, who blushed again. “If I were to erase all of that, I’d have to make them both complete total strangers to one another, and we don’t want that to happen.” And so it was that the boys had kept their new sandy beach at the pond, and Darby had kept his memory, while Mr. Arthur Weasley – the harried Wizard in the green work robe – had gone on home early that night to lecture his own sons about the problems of unplanned Magical excavations and having Muggles for friends.
“Seamus,” Darby was saying to him, discarding his shirt and putting his arm about his best friend’s shoulders. “Ya know it don’ bother me. Ya know I won’t say nothin’!” They’d been there all of five minutes and they still weren’t in the water. “Huh?” Seamus replied, his mind wandering and a silly grin on his face. “Yer not even here, are ya? Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Darby asked. Then it came to him. “Oh, buildin’ the beach, yea! Hell of a BANG, wasn’t it?” “Yea, I know,” Seamus replied, his face flushing a bit in embarrassment. “It’s just that I … I … I still feel so … weird getting’ undressed, I guess,” he said, the right words escaping him as he stripped off. Seamus Finnegan felt ‘weird’, as he put it, because Seamus wasn’t a normal boy. In fact, he was not a normal boy because he was a Wizard and his best friend, Darby, was a Muggle – a non-Magical person. He was also a bit embarrassed to strip naked because he wasn’t a normal Wizard either, even though he attended Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with all of the other young Wizards in the area. He was a Eunuch Wizard. But most of the previous Eunuch Wizards in history didn’t singe their eyebrows off on a regular basis, either. In fact, Seamus had been born twelve years before, just at midnight under the full moon of the Summer Solstice, the first day of Summer. Some called the hour of his birth ‘The Witching Hour’, just between twelve and thirteen o’clock. This was, in fact, not totally accurate. As any Hogwart’s student or teacher could attest to, most of them were in bed at that hour. His father, while being a Muggle, had unknowingly married a Witch. Seamus, their only child (so far) had inherited his mother’s gift, which had turned out to be a bit of a rude shock to his father. This made Seamus what was technically called a “halfblood”, not coming from true Wizarding parentage. However, it had been quite some time ago that most of the Wizarding World had stopped making that distinction. There were still some Pureblood families left, but the greater part of the latest classes at Hogwart’s were composed of halfblood children and an increasing number of Muggle-born children. There was some concern over this, mainly from the wealthier and snobbish class of Pureblood families, but for the most part, it made no difference who your parents were or where you came from. Of course, this didn’t stop the likes of Draco Malfoy, a Pureblood, from calling other children like Hermione Granger or Seamus “Mudbloods.” ‘Mudblood’, as a general rule, was a VERY offensive term. Seamus also been born with a birthmark, but as his talent for NOT being normal went, his birthmark hadn’t a regular one either. It was a small dark blemish, shaped like the mathematical symbol for ‘infinity.’ Some called it a Mobius Strip, but in the Wizarding World, it was known as the Mark of Klingsor.
Not very many Wizards or Witches knew the story of Klingsor. It was something that had fallen into the status of legend, all records of it having been deeply buried and hardly ever discussed. The Mark on a boy meant one thing, though – the boy bearing the Mark was undoubtedly a Wizard, and one possessed of what they called ‘Wild Power’. The Mark itself was part of the final Spell cast by the original Wizard Klingsor, after the other founders of Hogwart’s School for Witchcraft & Wizardry had driven him off over one thousand years ago. THAT was also another deeply buried fact that very few in the Wizarding World knew about. Hogwart’s had in fact had FIVE founders and not FOUR, as was commonly believed. Klingsor, or Clinschor as he was sometimes referred to, had been the fifth Founder. The man had had a libido problem, however, and that was what had led to his eventual downfall and casting out. After being caught in bed with the Queen of Italy, the King had ordered his emasculation so that he would never pleasure another woman! This, of course, hadn’t sat well with the Wizard Klingsor. Upon his recovery, though, he’d soon discovered that his frustrated sexual desires – for which he had no outlet since he had been left with no male genitals – had increased his Powers by some million-fold. Sadly though, in his bitterness, he had gone Bad. Realizing this, Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff, along with Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Sytherin, had combined their own Powers to cast him out and drive him away forever. He had left the School that he’d help to found, but he’d also left a Curse behind in his wake. The Knife which cut me, he’d promised them in a resounding voice which had echoed all across the countryside, will never be destroyed! It will have a Will of its own, and when I am gone, some other unfortunate young Wizarding boy will be born with what will come to be known as MY Mark! This will be a Sign to you all that my Powers – which are the greatest in all of Wizardom- are still out there, Wild Powers that they are, and that the Marked boy will be emasculated as I have been. I shall not be the only one to be cursed as I am. Whether it be by Wizards and Witches of which he is in the care of, or by his OWN hand, the Knife will not be denied and he will be made a eunuch! It will thirst for the blood of these young boys. It will seek out the Marked boy, or any Magical boy who craves Power above all else, and make a Eunuch Wizard of him as I have been made! And no one had ever seen Klingsor the Wizard again. It was just Seamus’ luck to have been born with the Mark. His Muggle father, so upset over the fate of his only son, had left them right after Seamus’ fated cutting. It hadn’t been the fact that he couldn’t handle the company of so many Magical folk at once; he’d adapted to the fact that his wife was a Witch and that his son was very probably one too. He simply didn’t understand why his boy had to be gelded, and in such strange goings-on that he could not justify. To him, it had made no sense whatsoever to geld the boy. He’d argued that it was cruel and barbaric, belonging in the bygone era of slaves and harem guards or stories like The Arabian Nights. He’d listened to the explanations about his boy’s Powers, why it was so important to geld him, and had naturally tried to put a stop to it. And he’d been overruled. His solution, therefore, had simply been to leave.
“C’mon, Seamus, iz not like yeh kin ‘elp it,” Darby offered, as Seamus was pulling his own shirt off. Days and days of swimming naked in the summer sun had tanned both of the pale Irish boys a warm, golden-brown color, and had made Seamus’ splash of freckles that ran across the bridge of his pert nose even more pronounced. It had also left them both with perfect tans and no lines. Darby smiled at him and pulled off his shorts. He wasn’t wearing underwear, having anticipated their activity for the afternoon, and his tightly circumcised little cock twitched a bit as he scratched it. Seamus sighed and pulled his own shorts off as well, and Darby politely looked away as he’d promised Seamus. It didn’t matter to him that his friend was a eunuch, but it seemed to matter to Seamus, and Darby made it a point to not stare. He was naturally curious, even a bit frightened, but he’d never asked about it. Seamus was still standing there in his snug briefs, gold with red lions printed on them and a Gryffindor seal as the back tag. “I don’ know why I even wear these,” he commented, hooking his thumbs in the waistband and pausing. “Huh?” Darby asked, very much wanting to get wet, but not wanting to break the tradition of jumping in and splashing each other.“Underwear,” Seamus said sullenly, his hand going to the snug and flat front of his briefs. “It’s not like I need ‘em anymore.” “Uh …,” Darby began, then stopped, unsure of what to say for fear of hurting his friend’s feelings. At eleven years of age, Darby O’Gill had not yet hit puberty. He had no body hair, other than soft, fine white fuzz that ran here and there over his body. He scratched at his undeveloped little balls and his cock gave a twitch. He didn’t understand why it did that, or why it stiffened up now and then, but it did. He resolutely kept his eyes off of Seamus, though, remembering what he’d said about never making fun of him or staring once he’d found out. Still, he WAS curious. After all, what boy wouldn’t be, confronted by the prospect of having THAT cut off?! “Seamus, you OK?” He asked. “It doesn’t … hurt, does it?” He mumbled. “No,” Seamus replied, “It stopped hurtin’ when they used The Sorc- …er … um … when they patched me up after they cut me. I guess, I mean … I was out cold. I din’t see ‘em do it to me.” Darby drew a sharp little breath. It was the first time that Seamus had ever offered any information about his emasculation, and the boy wasn’t sure of what to say in return. He turned around, and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He couldn’t even begin to imagine not having HIS own penis anymore, even though he had had a great deal of it cut off when he’d been circumcised some time before due to phimosis and infections. He been very upset about it at the time, though, and he could almost grasp how Seamus must be feeling. “You’re sure it feels OK?” He asked, and Seamus nodded. “OK, if you think being OK is not havin’ anything down there anymore, I guess,” Seamus sighed. “It’s like, every time I walk, I can feel it. When I ride my bike, I feel it more. Sometimes, you know when you wake up, an’ yer hard? I wake up and I think I’m hard and gotta pee, then I reach fer it an’ it’s gone! It’s just … weird. I don’ think I’ll ever get used to it,” he sighed. Then he grinned, making as if to punch Darby in the balls. Darby yelped and jerked back, but Seamus laughed at him. “Made ya jump!” He cried in delight. “No one kin do that ta ME no more!” Then he took off for the water. Darby, still surprised, was taken aback totally, and Seamus had already jumped past him towards the water. ”C’mon!” Seamus cried happily as he splashed water at him, glancing through the spray with a grin. “Whatcha waitin’ fer?” “Cheater!” Darby cried, going in after him and tackling him with a huge splash. His friend had faked him out. Just like Seamus, Darby didn’t have any other friends. Living in such a rural area, there weren’t any other boys around and that previous summer, Seamus had taken seriously ill. Or so Darby had been told. He hadn’t known it then, but Seamus had been recovering from his predestined castration and wasn’t technically ‘ill’. That had merely been the story that his family had given for his downtime. Now that Darby did know about it, though, he was considerate of his friend’s feelings and never stared at him or asked questions. He still recalled, painfully, what had happened when Seamus had been ‘ill.’ It had been after a month of not seeing him, well past his birthday, and Seamus still hadn’t come out to play or called. Darby had been told that he still couldn’t come and visit, that Seamus just wasn’t up to it, even though he was slowly getting better. Darby had spent the first half of their brief summer swimming and fishing all alone, thinking that he’d done something to make Seamus angry with him. Their birthdays had passed, for the very first time, unnoticed and not celebrated together. Darby had left a card and present on the front step one night, but gotten no reply. He had cried over this for a while, celebrating his birthday with his own family and the nearest neighbors, the Kearnys, thinking that he’d lost his only friend. Mr. And Mrs. Kearny, whom Darby had labeled as ‘weird’, had no children of their own and considered the two boys to be regular attachments to their daily lives. They seemed as upset as the boy over Seamus’ sudden absence from their lives as well, but had little advice to give. It was over that period of time that Darby and Mr. Kearny had taken up together, and the old man helped to fill in the mutual void in their lives. He was not afraid to show the boy affection, and since Darby’s father worked a great deal and had a long drive, the boy had been happy to accept it. They’d grown very close, but even that special friendship with the old man didn’t totally ease the pain that Darby felt in his stomach every time he wondered why Seamus wouldn’t talk to him anymore. In truth, after his emasculation, Seamus had been so ashamed and frightened of what his best friend would think of him that he’d just stayed in his room reading his schoolbooks and worrying, dreading going to Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for his First Year. He just couldn’t bring himself to have Darby finding out that his ‘boy parts’ had all been cut off, fearing that he might make fun of him. Or worse yet, be afraid of him. It was bad enough having admitted that he was a Wizard, which had taken a great deal of fast talking to smooth over. That, and facing the fact of going off to school for almost the whole year, where he wouldn’t know anyone at all, combined with the fact that he’d been emasculated, was making him quite miserable and unsocial. Of course, school had been the reason for his gelding in the first place. It was his Powers as a Wizard that had warranted Seamus’ emasculation, much to his father’s protests. It had been hard enough for Seamus – AND landed him in enough trouble – coming out to Darby that he was a Wizard. Telling him that he was also a eunuch was simply out of the question as he’d lain in bed recovering from the surgery that he didn’t really remember having. His mother had tried to coax him out several times, often reminding him that staying in bed wasn’t going to do him any good and that his behavior was probably hurting Darby’s feelings badly. THAT only made him feel worse, though, and Seamus began to get depressed. In his mind, he’d not only lost his manhood, but his best friend as well. Like the Muggle, Seamus didn’t have any other friends in the rural area and he’d been so afraid that Darby would be frightened or disgusted by him and that it would be the end of their friendship. Or worse yet, make fun of him. It was simply easier to just stay in his room and not risk it. Nothing, however, could have been further from the truth! When Seamus had finally told him, after seeing him ride his bike past on one exceptionally fine morning and waving without stopping, Darby had been shocked for all of about ten minutes. His main concern for his friend had simply been, “How do ya pee now, with it gone?” To him, Seamus could have turned up without an arm or with an extra head and he’d have probably just said, “That’s nice,” and moved on. Seamus had assured him that if he sat down, he could still pee just fine and that had been the end of that. So it was that they both realized, after Seamus had explained his odd behavior to his friend, just how deeply their friendship ran. They’d both laughed at Seamus’ unfounded fears of ridicule, and everything had been all right again. Both boys were simply too fascinated by one another to let anything come between them, as most true friends are. There were differences, but those differences tended to bleed over to one another, and brought them closer. For example, Darby’s house had electricity and plumbing. Seamus’ house had candles, torches, and was run by Magic. Darby had a microwave oven. Seamus had a large, cast iron stove. Darby had a telephone. Seamus talked into his fireplace, or Floo, as he called it. Darby rode a 20” BMX bike. Seamus rode a Broomstick. Darby wore loose fitting clothes, usually shorts and a T-shirt, while Seamus wore a hooded black robe over a red and gold undershirt. And now that Seamus was a eunuch and Darby was still a boy, it hadn’t mattered in the least and the summer had picked up with them and gone on as if nothing extraordinary (like a castration) had ever taken place. Darby was fascinated by Seamus’ abilities, the least of which included singeing his eyebrows off when he cast Spells, and the younger boy had begged him to teach him how to be a Wizard as well. Seamus was all for this idea, being totally taken with the idea of learning to ride a bike and watch TV. Darby was equally curious too, although he blatantly refused to ride Seamus’ Broomstick higher than a meter above the ground. But he still wanted to learn all about it. This of course, Darby had explained, would eliminate the problem of Seamus going away to school again for almost the whole coming year while Darby was left all alone with only the elderly neighbors down the way for company. The boys had never been separated for that long before Seamus’ First Year at Hogwart’s, and the thought of it happening again didn’t appeal to either one of them. “If’n I wuz a Wizard, too,” he’d explained, “Then I cud go ter school WITH ya! ‘Sides, the Kearnys ‘er getting’ weird. I like Mr. Kearny a lot, but it’s jus’ that … I dunno. They remind me o’ you a lot, fer some reason.” Seamus looked at Darby, and the smaller boy smiled back at him. Besides, ‘weird’ was a relative term and he could only imagine what Darby had thought of him before. But the day was perfect, and neither of them had a care in the world. Until dinnertime, that was… Swimming eventually gave way to exploring the pond, even though they knew every detail already. Not bothering to get dressed again, since the odds of someone coming by were slim to none, they took up their fishing poles. All of the fish, it seemed, had been scared off by their uproarious splashing, though and they had no luck. After a bit more of swimming, they went back to the sand and stretched out in the sun to rest. A very faint breeze blew across the pond, sending small ripples towards them. Somewhere off in the bordering forest, a bird sang. Seamus sighed in contentment. “I bet YOU get a Hogwart’s letter any day now,” Seamus said out of the blue, stretched out in the sun without a thought to his emasculated state. Darby didn’t care, and that made him feel less self-conscious. It certainly made him feel better than he’d felt going back to school that previous year, after sorting out the problems of Darby finding out about his two secrets. He’d been terrified that someone at school would find out about his gelding and make fun of him. Worse yet, he’d been almost sick at the fact of leaving his best friend until the Christmas break. “I hope soooh,” Darby drawled, without any true conviction in his voice. “I doubt it, tho.” It was obvious that he wasn’t holding his breath in anticipation of an owl. “C’mon,” Seamus replied. “Ye’ll get one, I’m sure! Why else wud Mr. Weasley ‘v let ya keep yer memory ‘o me?” “Mabye ‘e was late er somethin’,” Darby replied, “Or he jus’ didn’t wanna do it?” “I think yer a Wizard, too,” Seamus stated matter-of-factly. “Don’tcha ‘av ter be able ter DO somethin’ first tho?” Darby asked, sounding sullen. Summer was half over already, and too soon Seamus would be gone again for almost a whole year. “Don’ tell me yeh ain’t been able ta do nothin’,” Seamus retorted, “Whut about Mr. Kearny’s wagon wheel? It dint fix itself, ya know. Er the barn door, er the busted fence when tha cow got out?” Darby gasped. “I thought it wuz you!” “Nope,” Seamus said in a confident tone. “I don’t talk to cows – or any animals. It wuz YOU! I felt it!” He added proudly, softly punching Darby’s upper arm. “We Wizards kin always spot another one, ya know.” Darby poked him in return, in the ribs, and Seamus giggled. He was quite ticklish. Very soon, it degraded into a loud wrestling match with both sun-baked boys covered in sand and having to get back in the water to wash off. Afterwards, they got out of the pond again and moved up past the sand to the grass to relax. “I know ya’r gonna be accepted,” Seamus said again. “An’ if fer some stupid reason yer not, then you can stowaway on the train wit me!” “If’n YOU say so,” Darby said, delighted at the idea of such an adventure. “So when’s this Harry Potter comin’ over? Ya said ya wrote to him,” He suddenly remembered. Seamus scrunched up his eyebrows, now that he had some again, and thought hard. “E’s not answerin’ me letters. Thas not like ‘im. I hope nothin’s wrong.” Harry Potter, Seamus had told Darby, was his only friend at Hogwart’s. There was Ron Weasley as well, but Seamus tended to think Ron as more or less an extension of Harry. Everyone else, teachers included, didn’t seem to even know that he existed. He’d been miserable for the better part of that First Year, frightened and homesick and lonely. The teachers didn’t call on him in class, his attempts at new Spells were usually disasters, and no one seemed to like him enough to even talk to him. Even at the dinner table in the Great Hall, sitting right between Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas, it was almost as if he weren’t even there. Then when someone had noticed him, it had been Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House and he’d taken to calling him “Torchboy” or “Mudblood”. Seamus had been SO miserable, in fact, that he’d considered running away. He had written to Darby on an almost weekly basis that First Year, prompting his own owl to go on strike from lack of rest. His letters to his friend at home were his only comfort before Harry’s gesture of friendship. He’d told the boy all about Harry Potter, his story as to why he was so famous in the Wizarding World, and finally – after a lot of thought – what he and Harry had talked about when he’d come out to him as a Eunuch Wizard and where that had led. Darby had taken it surprisingly well for someone only ten at the time, much to Seamus’ surprise. But then again, he’d accepted his best friend’s emasculation with only one glance and a blink, and moved on with their friendship unaffected by it. “You HAVE to have some friends there,” Darby had written back a short letter to him in a serious tone. “Just like I have to have you here. With what all they done to you already, I don’t know if I could stand it. Guess you’re a better Wizard than me, but then again I’m not a Wizard yet, if I ever will be. Tell Harry ‘hi’ for me. I miss you.” Darby’s letter had then gone on into a fair description of the current events of their eccentric neighbors. “Maybe ya should call ‘im on the Floo thingy,” Darby suggested, and Seamus’ eyes lit up. “Tha’s a GREAT idea! Ya remember ‘ow ter use it, Darby?” The smaller boy nodded. “Easy. Light a fire, tha Spell is Incendio, throw in a pinch of Floo powder, and yell for tha person ya wants.” “Excellent!” Seamus congratulated him. “Ya do that if’n ya e’er need me an’ I’m not ‘ere, er you’re in trouble. Use MY Floo though, got it? Yer mom and dad might flip if you do it at home.” Darby nodded. “If’n ‘Arry went to this Ron kid’s place, we kin call ‘im there tonight. His dad will just flip, though, if he sees ME calling Ron!” “Righ’,” Seamus agreed. “But he’ll get over it. It’s not like Harry to say somethin’ and fergit it. ‘E wuz really lookin’ forward to comin’ ‘ere and…” Seamus didn’t finish the sentence though, not wanting to say what Harry had suggested to him before they’d left school! “Ya really like ‘im, don’tcha, Seamus?” Darby asked, sounding interested and not shocked at what Seamus had already admitted to doing with Harry. Seamus nodded. “It’s not like I kin e’er look forward ta … ta any kind ‘o … … sex life,” he finally managed in a sullen tone. “Or kids. Who’d want ME now?” “It’s OK,” Darby replied, reaching over to pat his best friend’s bare shoulder. “Like I wrote ya tha’ time, ya gots ta ‘ave a friend er two. It gets lonely, ya know.” “Thanks,” Seamus said in a choked tone, “I … I wuz afraid ye’d be mad ‘a me, er think I wuz gay er somethin’.” “What’s gay ‘bout likin’ to be touched or held?” Darby asked, moving his small hand down to Seamus’ chest. “I like bein’ held an’ touched. What’s wrong wit it?” “Some people don’ like the idea,” Seamus replied, not wanting to come right out and say, ‘I was sleepin’ with Harry Potter, ya know.’ “I’m glad Mr. Kearny don’ think like that,” Darby said, “I’d’v gone nuts if’n he hadn’t been there when you wouldn’t come out yer room that time.” “I’m sorry about that,” Seamus returned in a low voice, knowing that the Kearnys had so much to offer. He then thought about his father having gone, and Darby’s father spending most of his time away with work. The old man really had become a substitute, almost like an adopted grandfather, and both boys were glad to have him. He was warm and affectionate, and not afraid to let them know it either. Seamus could only imagine how some people might feel about his liberally bestowed hugs and kisses to the two boys, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that did matter was the fact that he was there for them when they needed him. The last thing he’d have ever done was hurt them, no matter what anyone else who saw them together might think. He and Harry Potter, though … well, that was another matter in itself! Seamus figured that Darby was a bit too young to fully understand it, so he didn’t bring it up. They’d not done any experimenting or sexual exploring with one another before Seamus had been cut. The closest they’d ever come was in Seamus showing his friend what had been done to him. His own first sexual experience, in fact, hadn’t exactly happened until Harry Potter had come to his room to see what he’d been crying about. He hadn’t explained it all to Darby, but since the smaller boy didn’t seem all that interested in that sort of thing – yet – Seamus simply didn’t bring it up. He figured that he’d be ready in perhaps another year or so. “Yea, but people don’ like it when they finds out ‘bout boys touchin’ boys an’ such,” Seamus replied. “I heard a lotta bad stuff sed ‘bout gay boys while I wuz at school. Nobody likes a gay boy.” “Harry didn’t think badly ‘o ya, tho, did ‘e?” “No,” Seamus said softly, wondering just where Harry was and why he wasn’t writing back or Floo’ing. “Well, there, then,” Darby replied, leaning closer so that he could hug his friend. Then he sighed, rather heavily. “I don’ know what I’m a’gonna do if ya go back to Hogwart’s and they don’ take me this year.” “They will,” Seamus reassured him once more, somehow just knowing that it was true. He returned his friend’s warm embrace, and the two of them just lay there in the sun not wanting the day to end. The summers were so fleeting as it was, without so much worry to mar it. “Kin ya do it, Seamus?” Darby asked suddenly, “I mean, make it go slower?” Seamus drew in a deep breath and nodded. He wasn’t sure how he did it; he just DID it. He’d discovered this ability during an extremely high pressure Potions exam early on his First Year at Hogwart’s. His Potion hadn’t been thickening properly, and he’d been thinking, All I need is more TIME! I have to have MORE time! As Professor Snape had slowly approached his seat, taking all the points that he possible could from Gryffindors over faulty Potions and seeming to enjoy it immensely. And that was when it had happened for the very first time. Everyone had just frozen stiff. Steam had become stuck in midair rising from the other cauldrons, and Professor Snape had stopped in mid-stride coming towards his desk to criticize him. No one was moving – no one but Seamus. He tried to speak to the others, even tapped the shoulder of a First Year Slytherin boy sitting next to him. Nothing. He’d run over to shake Neville Longbottom’s shoulders, and flip Dean Thomas’ ears. Again, nothing! He’d watched his Potion turn color and thicken, and then sighed in relief when it had. And that had been when things suddenly returned to normal. Neville had twitched, looking around curiously, and Dean had jerked his head about, scratching at his ears. Seamus had just sat there, terrified, as Snape had sniffed at his Potion and stirred it a bit more. “Sheer, dumb luck,” Snape had then hissed at him, making a note that looked like a 9 of 10 on his pad with an ugly sneer on his face. Snape NEVER gave Gryffindors perfect marks in Potions Class. Since then, Seamus had practiced hard on that particular skill, asking no one about it and hiding it even from his mother. It half scared him, but he also used it to his advantage on several occasions. The only hint that he had ever seen that someone might know about it were the odd winks the Professor Dumbledore sometimes gave him when he noticed him at all. This, of course, hadn’t happened until Seamus had crashed into the old man in a hallway, running late to Transfigurations Class with Professor McGonagall and employing his little secret to arrive on time. If Dumbledore knew, though, he wasn’t letting on. All he’d said had been, “When did YOU learn to Apparate? You can’t Apparate inside of the Hogwart’s Grounds. It says so in all the books!” Seamus of course, had passionately denied any knowledge of the tricky art of Apparation and gone on to class while Dumbledore had gone off muttering about First Year Apparations being totally impossible. And so, with Darby in his arms and feeling totally content just laying in the sunshine, Seamus concentrated. It’s Latin, he thought, taking a deep breath, Tempus Fugit, or something. Time flies… Their immediate surroundings seemed to lurch oddly and shimmer for a second, and then settled. Darby looked up to see a fish half out of the water in mid-jump, and a bird hanging in the blue sky without moving its wings. The grass was bent over in the stilled breeze, and a butterfly hung in the air over a flowering orange weed. He smiled and ran his small hand down to tickle Seamus’ tummy. Seamus laughed, tickling the smaller boy’s ribs and making him squeal in delight. It soon degraded into another wrestling match, both of them holding tightly to one another and rolling around in the soft grass as time almost stood still around them. There was nothing sexual about it. They were simply two boys at play without a care in the world at that very moment, existing only for the comfort of each other’s company and the security of each other’s touch. “I wish we dint ‘av to let it go back,” Darby said, allowing himself to be pinned to the ground. Seamus liked to win these little matches, and Darby knew it. Kneeling over top of him, holding him down by the wrists and pinning his legs with his knees, Seamus smiled down at him. Darby looked up at his best friend, shooting only the briefest of glances as his empty crotch and then looking back into his light brown eyes. I can’t stand it if’n he leaves again and I ‘av ta stay ‘ere, he thought, dreading the end of the summer and the next ten months of only seeing his best friend twice on holiday breaks at Christmas and Easter.“I know,” Seamus said, panting a bit, “But I cahn’t hold it forever! I’ll get too tired.” “Yea,” Darby agreed. “Jus’ shut it off when ya do.” Seamus nodded, rolling off of his friend with a sigh. They lay there in the grass for what was relatively another hour before Seamus had to ‘let go’ of his hold on Time. The fish splashed into the water and the bird flew on as Darby watched in wonder. Then he got up, holding himself. “I gotta go pee!” He announced, heading for the nearest tree. Seamus watched him walk through the grass and go around the far tree, feeling a slight touch of jealously. It was certainly a lot more convenient and faster to be able to pee standing up, as he’d been doing for the first ten years of his life – not counting the diaper phase – and he was just a bit envious of Darby. He touched himself, shivering a bit as his hand found nothing down there to grab onto. He’d been a eunuch for a little over a year, and he still wasn’t used to it. He bit his lower lip, annoyed, with the sounds of Darby relieving himself reminding him of the morning that Harry Potter had found out that he was not only a eunuch, but a bedwetter as well. He stood up and stretched, feeling a bit tired from his ‘hold’ on time around them. BANG! They both looked around, stunned, and Seamus literally wet himself in surprise. He uttered a fairly foul curse word, and got back in the water to wash off. “What was that?” Darby called back, peeking out from around the tree some distance off, his eyes wide. “I dunno,” Seamus hollered back to him, looking around, “Maybe a tire blowing out on the road, or your dad’s car backfired?” Darby shook his head. “Dad’s not home yet. ‘Sides, that wuz TOO loud!” “Sorry about that, boys, that was only us,” a cold and high pitched voice said from somewhere off to their right. Seamus moved into deeper water and Darby hid behind his tree again. Three figures were approaching them through the meadow. Two of them seemed solid, but the third seemed to float along, almost as if without form. One of them was much shorter than the other, and Seamus guessed that the three hooded figures in black were Wizards who had Apparated very near them. “An Apparation noise,” Seamus called to Darby, “Wizards coming in!” As they drew closer, Seamus heard that voice again, familiar now, and his blood ran cold. He gritted his teeth in anger and fear, sinking into the pond so that only his head was visible. “I’m surprised YOU remembered that one, Mudblood,” Draco Malfoy sneered at him, pulling down his hood to reveal his neatly trimmed white hair. His face was paler than Seamus could ever remember seeing it, and his cheeks were sunken. There were dark circles under his colorless eyes, which were bloodshot as well. He grinned at Seamus, aiming his Wand at him. “Havin’ a good summer, Torchboy? Set anything on fire lately, like, oh, say, your hair?! Good place for you, really, in the water. We should all be safe that way!” He laughed aloud. “Screw off, Malfoy!” Seamus replied, his hand closing on a large rock on the pond’s bottom where some of the gravel had landed when he’d created the beach. “Oh where ARE my manners?” Draco Malfoy asked of them all, mockingly slapping his forehead. “This is my father, of course,” he said, gesturing at the taller robed figure, who nodded but did not pull his hood down. “And this,” Draco continued, gesturing at the floating nightmare behind him, “Is Mr. Riddle. He’s a very good friend of the family.” Seamus gasped as his eyes focused on the smoky man-ghost-thing hovering behind Draco. It seemed to have an indistinct hand on his shoulder, and it was whispering to him. Seamus looked closer at Malfoy’s pale face. He was thinner and a bit taller than Seamus remembered from last term. He almost looked as if he’d been very sick, and was just getting out and about now that he was over it. The smoky figure seemed to breath heavily now and again, and Draco shuddered each time that it did. He looked very smug and happy as well. “So what are YOU doing in Ireland?” Seamus asked bluntly, noticing that the man and the other figure were looking about. He hoped that Darby would either stay behind his tree or run away. Then he remembered that they were both naked, and running away probably wasn’t an option. “Came to pay YOU a visit, Finnegan, believe it or not. Mr. Riddle is very interested in you, for some odd reason,” Draco replied with a sneer. “Even if you are a Mudblood.” Seamus replied with something that he probably would never have said in front of his mother, with his fist closed tightly around the rock. He drew himself up, concentrated, and watched as Mr. Malfoy paused in mid-step. Draco’s mouth was open, but he wasn’t talking. Only the smoky figure seemed to be moving, but very slowly, and it turned to stare at Seamus with baleful red eyes glowing under its hood. Seamus felt an odd lurch and a small pain in his head. “Nice try,” it hissed at him, and Seamus ‘let go.’ Malfoy spun around, and Draco was saying, “My friend Mr. Riddle can be very, very, nice, Finnegan, IF you’re nice to him. He needs some help, though, and YOU can help him, he tells me. I don’t know HOW, but he said so. Why else would I have come … here?” He asked, looking around and wrinkling his nose as if mortally offended by the sunny meadow and bright sunshine. “I’d rather die than help YOU,” Seamus snapped, and the smoky figure made a move towards him. “That could be arranged as well,” Lucius Malfoy stated in an even tone. “Get him,” it hissed, and Mr. Malfoy aimed his Wand at Seamus as well. “Alive, you fools!” Mr. Riddle snapped, and as his stare fell upon Seamus once again, the Irish lad was overcome by the urge to scream and run away. The mass of black smoke seemed to be hovering, coalescing, wearing a tattered robe as well that drifted about where its legs should have been. It placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder again, and the boy seemed oblivious to the nightmare behind him … touching him … breathing down his neck. It appeared to be almost cuddling with him as they advanced, and Seamus broke out in gooseflesh. He couldn’t help but to stare. In fact, Draco seemed to LIKE this thing being near him, touching him, his pale eyes almost glassy and his face looking pleasant despite everything else. Seamus didn’t take time to think. He simply acted. His own Wand was back in his pile of clothes at the far side of the beach, too far away to reach. He thought of a Summoning Charm, but realized that Draco’s father would no doubt counter-curse it. He’d just seen that Mr. Riddle didn’t seem to be affected by his trick of slowing down time, or speeding himself up, whichever it was. Still, it seemed to be the best bet. “Come along quietly, Finnegan,” Lucius Malfoy told him. “There’s no need to hide in the water, ashamed of your nakedness. No one here but Mr. Riddle cares that you’re a Eunuch Wizard. We’ve all seen eunuchs before. In fact, that’s WHY he wants to speak to you. He wants to have a long chat with you, boy. Now, COME HERE!” Malfoy ordered. Seamus gripped the rock tighter and concentrated, swallowing hard and trying not to shake. This is MY Meadow, he told himself over and over again, They’re trespassing in MY … OUR … Meadow, spoiling it by being here! They have no right to be here. They don’t belong here, making fun of us! And I’ll be damned if I’m talking to that THING! Seamus kept telling himself this, telling himself that he wasn’t afraid. He felt a terrible force building inside of him, a force unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He concentrated on that feeling, drawing strength from it as his knees stopped shaking and his teeth stopped chattering. “I said COME HERE, boy!” Lucius Malfoy thundered at him, still pointing at the ground in front of him, and both he and Draco still had their Wands aimed at him. He saw Darby peeking out from behind his tree, his eyes wide and his whole body quaking. Then, in one fluid move, Seamus shot out of the water like a torpedo as his Will – unaided by his Wand – launched him at Draco. He took careful aim and heaved the rock at him as hard as he could as he cleared the beach, spraying water and sand in his wake. Draco, almost frozen from Seamus’ perspective, didn’t move as he stared in wonder at the wet projectile heading over him. The rock had almost struck him right between the eyes when Riddle grabbed the pale boy’s hand and waved his hand at it. It shattered in midair, showering Draco and Riddle with small bits of gravel. Riddle gasped, and Draco shuddered again with a stupid look on his gaunt face. Seamus landed on his feet, hitting the ground running, and, ‘letting go’ again, unable to hold Time remotely still any longer. He was beginning to get tired. Draco yelled in rage, brushing himself off casually, though. “You’ll pay for that, Mudblood,” he promised in an icy tone. Mr. Riddle was now moving on him though, reaching out towards him with his leprous hands. Seamus felt a chill surge over him as he looked back, and he fell to his knees in the grass. Imperio, Riddle mumbled, pulling out a Wand from his sleeve, Seamus realized, that looked a lot like Harry’s. As soon as Riddle said it, all conscious thought vanished from Seamus’ mind. He was suddenly very warm and happy, and a tiny voice in his mind seemed to be telling him to go with the Malfoys, that everything would be OK if he did. Mr. Riddle would be nice to him, give him presents, and make him feel good. He started to get up, grinning, taking that first step towards the smoky form of Riddle that Draco obviously couldn’t see for what it was. He’d just raised his right foot when Darby screamed. “Seamus! NO! Don’t do it! Run away!” He screamed from the far off tree he’d been hiding behind. Riddle’s head spun about and he snapped at Draco, “Kill the spare! Kill the Muggle! Use the Avada Curse I taught you!” “Yes, sir!” Draco replied happily. The Imperius Curse on Seamus had broken, however. He jumped up, dazed, and screamed back to Darby, “No, YOU run! Do what we were talking about! Go! It’s me they want! Go get help! Go get HIM!” Darby took off, running for all he was worth back towards the bikes. “Leave him to me, Master,” Lucius Malfoy said, aiming his Wand at Darby and launching a fireball at him as Draco took aim as well, distracted by Darby’s scream. He made a dash for his clothes, running hard, and mumbling Accio Wand! as he went. Technically, as a Second Year, he wasn’t supposed to know about the Summoning Charm, but his mother had used it so often on HIM and the contents of his pockets that he knew it by heart. His own Wand shot from his clothing and found his hand, and he blasted the earth out from under Lucius Malfoy in one wave. He remembered to duck, saving his remaining eyebrows. His eyes were fixed on the fleeing Darby. “Damn you, boy” Malfoy snapped at him, picking himself up and launching a green fireball at him. Seamus dodged it and ran, following Darby in a wild hope to escape. But he was too far away, and he’d have to run right into the fray to get to his bike. “Get him!” Riddle roared in anger and impatience, having not expected such resistance from mere children. “Expelliarmus! He roared, and Seamus’ Wand flew out of his hand to land back in his pile of clothing. Disarmed, Seamus hit the ground out of instinct, vanishing into the tall grass at a low spot and recognizing the sound of a powerful Spell being deployed. He peeked up through the grass, and smelled smoke. A fireball hurtled over his head, and he rolled back into a small dip behind a fallen log to hide. Not a second later, a naked and frightened little boy came running past him. Two seconds later, Draco Malfoy followed, firing green bolts of energy from his wand – and missing again. Avada Kedavra! Draco cried, and Seamus’ hair stood on end. It was a forbidden Curse, and he remembered hearing about it somewhere not that long ago. It was The Killing Curse. A forbidden Curse. The Killing Curse that meant instant death … and Riddle had taught it to him! NO! Seamus thought, shocked to the core at Draco’s audacity. He knew that the Slytherin boy hated Gryffindors in general, and didn’t care for Muggles in particular, but to KILL one?! He couldn’t believe it. Darby was screaming as he ran. Seamus’ heart leapt, but he didn’t jump up as Draco Malfoy’s black robe flailed out behind him as he ran after the fleeing Muggle with pure cold-blooded murder in his colorless eyes. He’s gone mad, Seamus thought, still unable to believe that even Malfoy could be doing such a thing. This was no fight in the hallway at school. This was real. This was Draco thirsting for Darby’s blood. And then he thought of the Curse that he’d just thrown off seconds before, when he’d almost willingly gone to the nightmarish form that was Riddle. He’s controlling him! He’s taken over Draco’s mind! Seamus realized, his stomach rolling in fright. But WHO is he? What is he? He heard Darby scream again, and then something very odd happened as Seamus drew himself up to try and ‘slow time’ again. He was so tired, and he didn’t think that he could do it. Someone seemed to be telling him to try, though, almost as if watching them all and advising him. Disapparate him, it suggested, whispering in his ear, You can do it! Malfoy seemed to be running in slow motion. The green fireball hung at the tip of his Wand, glowing, but not moving. He suddenly realized what he was doing, and tried to hold it. It was exactly like the time he’d made Harry Potter cum right in front of Ron, and Ron hadn’t even noticed. Seamus thought of Harry, and felt him, almost as if Harry Potter were very near and trying to help him. Time was beginning to slip, as it was prone to do when Seamus got excited. Disapparate him, Harry Potter’s voice said, almost right in his ear, feeling as if his lips were touching his earlobe, and Seamus turned his head. For a split second, he saw that familiar face with glittering green eyes behind those thick glass specs and the lightning bolt scar that disappeared into a mass of unruly black hair. And then it was gone, as if it had never been there. “Harry!” Seamus screamed, still wet and sandy from all the swimming and naked as the day he’d been born. It was irrational he knew; Harry Potter was on the other side of the isles, staying at Ron’s place. There was nothing he could do to help. No way he could know. Frozen in mid-stride was Lucius Malfoy, his eyes blazing with hatred and his Wand aimed at Seamus. Malfoy’s mouth was open, uttering a Curse, and a thin bolt of white energy had just emerged from his Wand. Behind him hung the cloud of black smoke, and Seamus sensed the dread presence of Lord Voldemort for the first time as a vision of Harry Potter flashed through his head again. He wasn’t sure HOW he knew that it was the Dark Lord; he just KNEW that Riddle wasn’t what Draco had said that he was. They’re Dark Wizards after all, he thought, It wasn’t rumor or boasting. Malfoy really IS Bad! Seamus’ stomach lurched and his chest ached. He jumped up and ran towards Darby, who was still being pursued by Draco. Draco, it seemed, was a very poor shot. I can grab him, slow it down and hold it, and nothing will happen! We can run away! He thought, but Seamus was shaking his head as if he knew that it wasn’t going to work. He ran on, overcorrected, and he and Draco crashed into one another. Seamus thought of Harry again, on the bed that time, and tried desperately to stop Time rock-solid all around him. He didn’t want to slow it; he wanted to jam it up solid so that he was the only thing moving – anywhere! What wud Harry do? He wondered. “’Time flies’,” Seamus had said to Harry that once, and as his mouth had closed over Harry’s in a passionate kiss, Harry’s worries and fears had seemed to vanish. There was only THAT one moment, only Seamus’ tongue in his mouth, only their hands touching here and there. Seamus wanted desperately to hang onto that moment, repeat it, but there simply wasn’t enough time. Seamus felt it breaking, flushed and heady with the exertion. He was on the verge of collapse. He’d heard tell of Magical folk burning out their Powers, pushing themselves too hard and just falling over. He wondered if it hurt. “They’re gonna take me,” Seamus thought, not the least bit surprised. They’re gonna take me and no one will ever see me again! But they weren’t going to take him without a last bit of fight. Seamus spun and ran back to his pile of discarded clothing and grabbed his Wand as Lucius Malfoy spun upon him, raging. Draco was still after Darby, and the slowdown was ending. The lethal green fireball was headed right for his best friend’s exposed back. “No!” Seamus screamed, pointing his Wand at Draco and Darby. Lucius Malfoy turned ever so slowly, and Seamus’ heart felt as if it had stopped. His head throbbed, and he felt like he was going to vomit. His legs cramped up, but still, his Wand hand held rock steady. The green fireball was out of then end of Draco’s Wand, and it was headed straight for Darby – closer and closer it was flying! Even though he was no math ace, Seamus knew that the boy wasn’t going to make it behind the far tree where the bikes were parked before it hit him. Before it killed him. Before it left Seamus without his best friend. Before it left him without the boy who was more than a best friend, but not quite a little brother. I should have told him… Seamus realized, I never told him … he’ll die, and I never told him … how much I love him! “Seamus,” Riddle was saying, almost wheedling, “Seamus, my boy. Let’s be reasonable,” he hissed, “We won’t KILL him, really, I was just angry! Imperio, in fact,” he said, slipping that word in there again and waving his Wand at Seamus. He’s a Liar! Seamus thought, almost mad with grief over the imagining of his best friend’s death. “You liar!” He screamed aloud, thinking about how he couldn’t bear it if anything happened to Darby. The all-controlling Imperius Curse hit Seamus like a ton of bricks … and it bounced off. “Come here, boy,” Riddle hissed, confused as to why his Curse had failed. For only a brief moment, he thought of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. He had only failed ONCE before in his career, and Harry Potter was the reason for that failure. “NO! “Aim better, Draco!” Malfoy roared as time snapped back into total normal flow all around them. It was an agonizing decision, and as his heart wrenched and his conscience screamed at him, Seamus let fly with all the Power that he could muster. Time seemed to slow down again, but Seamus had nothing to do with it. “I cahn’t hold it much longer,” he said to himself, shaking badly as he took careful aim at Darby and wishing in desperation that Harry Potter were there to help him. “I ne’er held it so long before, they’re gonna get him any time! “Stop him!” Riddle roared, still perplexed as to why he could not take control of this Irish boy’s mind. DISAPPARTE!” Seamus then cried, and a pure white fireball flew from the end of his Wand. It passed by Draco, passed his lethal green fireball, and struck Darby full in the butt. It surrounded him, and the naked boy vanished in a loud BANG! He fell to his knees with a strangled cry as it left him, weak and unable to get back up. Seamus managed to keep one eye open, and he smiled at what he saw. Darby was gone, and Draco was looking about without a clue. He then felt arms grasp him, and saw a swirl of black cloth in his face. Lucius Malfoy had grabbed him from behind! Seamus shoved his Wand into Malfoy’s face, and kicked at him with his last bit of strength. His bare foot hit the man in the knee, making him gasp in surprise. The kick was too weak to even bruise him though. Then Seamus kicked out again, driving his heel up into Malfoy’s crotch. Don’t have to be hit hard THERE, he thought evilly, realizing that one advantage he had over all the other boys was that HE could never be incapacitated in such a manner ever again! Lucius Malfoy choked and lost his hold on Seamus, doubling over and wheezing. Seamus’ breathing came in hard gasps as well. He was now totally exhausted from his efforts, though, and he couldn’t even get up. Much less run away. Draco shook his head in frustration, ran about a bit looking here and there, as his green fireball finally struck the huge tree. It dropped all of its leaves and died. Darby, however, was gone – successfully Disapparated to Seamus’ house. It worked! Seamus rejoiced silently, I did it! But Lucius Malfoy was back up and closing in on him again though, and the black smoky cloud that was Voldemort was engulfing Draco, swirling about him like a miasma. “Leave the Muggle,” Riddle hissed almost pleasantly, teasingly, “No one will believe him. We’ll get him later, my fine boy, yes we will, you and me!” He promised, nuzzling at Draco’s neck as the pale boy gasped in pleasure. Seamus almost vomited in disgust, convinced that Draco HAD to be seeing an illusion to keep him from running away in fear. And then Seamus heard Lucius Malfoy cry, Stupefy!. He turned to see Draco leering at him, the fog of Voldemort’s wasted form totally engulfing him. Seamus felt himself go limp and fall. He was flat on his back in the grass, but still, he felt like falling. It was very odd, he thought, falling like that. Still, he managed to open his eyes just in time to see a white blur streaking down out of the sky. It seemed to be screaming in rage, and it fell upon one of the Dark Wizards and slashed at his face with its talons. Lucius Malfoy then scooped him up into his arms, and Seamus lost consciousness. His head bobbed over the crook of Malfoy’s arm as he carried him, limp as a rag doll, towards the anxious Voldemort, who had managed to chase off the attacking owl. His face, however, had slashed badly and he was swearing. “I have him, Master,” Lucius Malfoy said, and Voldemort – not quite a ghost but not quite carnal, either – smiled as he hovered protectively over Draco. “Very good,” Voldemort said in a dusty voice that was filled with anticipation. “Let us go now, before we are discovered, or before that bloody owl comes back!” Then he vanished in a puff of black smoke, taking Draco with him as Lucius Malfoy Disapparated in a loud BANG, taking Seamus Finnegan with him as well. Somewhere in the distance, a car engine turned over. A moment later, a large black Rolls Royce pulled onto the road, very nearly running over an old man and his pony as they pulled a rickety wagon along the way. “Hmmm, better tell the missus ‘bout this one,” the old man mused.
Darby came to his senses realizing that he was still running. He looked back over his shoulder, but the boy with the white hair was gone. There weren’t any more fireballs being shot at him, and he stopped. He bent over, hands on knees, gasping from breath. He’d never been so afraid in his life! Seamus’ warning that ‘not all Wizards are good’ kept ringing in his ears over and over, and he believed it. Suddenly Darby jerked his head up, looking about for Seamus. But he was no longer at the Meadow. The pond was gone, as was the grass and the trees. He was standing in a slightly overgrown lawn, out in the sun. He looked around again, but didn’t see Seamus. What he did see was Seamus’ house, and he remembered what he’d been told: “If you’re ever in trouble, or anything happens, you run to MY house and use the Floo!” Darby felt that this certainly qualified as ‘something’, although he wasn’t sure WHAT, or how he’d gotten from the Meadow to Seamus’ house so fast. He knew he could run, but there was no way he could have run that fast. He sprinted up to the door, his side still aching from all the running, gasping, and pounded on it. No one answered. Then Darby realized something else – he was still naked from their interrupted swim! But he also remembered something else that Seamus had told him. “My door never locks for you.” Darby tried it, but it WAS locked. He thought about it for a bit, glancing nervously about to see if he was still being chased, or if the white haired boy had caught up to him yet. He didn’t see anyone though. Tentatively, he grasped the locked doorknob again and said, “Open up, it’s Darby.” The door jerked open, the knob pulling out of his sweaty little hand. Darby jumped inside and locked it, and feeling silly, told the door, “Don’t let anyone else in ‘til I’m gone!” The door didn’t reply. Darby ran to the kitchen where he found the huge old iron stove. He grabbed a mit and opened the door, but there was no fire lit in it. His heart sank. He knew that the Spell to light a fire was Incendio, but he didn’t have a Wand. Seamus’ Wand was back at the Meadow, as were the people who’d attacked them. Desperately, he ran to the parlor where the big fireplace was. It was summer, though, and there was no fire lit in it. “What do I do now?” He moaned, wondering what had become of Seamus. Then it hit him. “I ran away,” he breathed. “They went fer Seamus, an’ I ran away!” Overcome with guilt and not having a clue what to do in his panic, Darby ran from the parlor and up the stairs to Seamus’ room with tears running down his cheeks. He slammed the door closed behind him, and threw open the lid of Seamus’ large steamer trunk. He knew that was where Seamus kept all his ‘good stuff,’ as he called it. He rooted around in it for a bit, tossing aside Seamus’ black robe, various socks and underwear (all printed with Gryffindor emblems), T-shirts, trousers, a small cauldron, a stack of books, several quills and a few rolls of parchment. Finally, near the bottom, he found the little yellow bag of Floo Powder. Somewhere below, a window slid open with a squeak. A voice said something in a muffled tone, and then it grew quiet again. Darby seriously considered crawling inside of the trunk. “I told that stupid door to not let anyone in,” he mumbled, turning with a gasp to stare into Seamus’ mirror on the back of his bedroom door. “Guess I should have told the window too.” “Put some clothes on, boy,” it wheezed at him. “Who said that?” He yelped in fear, looking about but seeing no one. “I did,” the mirror replied. Darby flushed, realizing that he’d forgotten about being naked. He went over to Seamus’ chest of drawers, and pulled out some of his “Muggle clothes”, as Seamus referred to them. Again, as he was pulling on a pair of blue soccer shorts, he felt guilty. “If I wuz a Wizard, I could ‘av helped,” he groaned. Then he lay back on the bed and started to cry bitterly. “He’s gone,” he whimpered to no one but the pillow, which was soon wet. “He’s gone and I ran away! I let ‘em get him! I let ‘em take ‘im! Now what do I do?” “Call for help,” the mirror advised him, “Use the Floo.” Darby jumped up with a yelp. “Who said that?” “I did,” the mirror wheezed. “Weren’t you listening to me? You’re in a Wizarding House. You’re a Wizard, act like one!” Darby stared at the mirror in wonder. Seamus’ house WAS odd, he knew, but none of the furniture had ever talked to him before. “But there’s no fire,” he replied, feeling stupid. “’Course there is, that nice boy with glasses just lit it fer ya,” the mirror replied. Darby, however, didn’t realize what it had just told him. “Thanks,” he said quickly, clutching the bag of Floo Powder and sliding down the banister. He hit the floor running, and when he arrived back in the Parlor, sure enough, the fire was going. He looked around, but didn’t see any other boy with glasses anywhere. He ran to it, tossing a handful of the Powder in. He watched as the flames turned from orange to green, then he bent down close to them and started to scream. “Harry?! Harry Potter? Are you there? I need to speak to Harry Potter!!!”
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