Harry Potter and the Knife of Klingsor, Part 23

He was just heading back to the Dormitory to go back to bed when heard a strange noise. He thought it sounded a great deal like the Portrait of the Fat Lady opening, but that didn’t make sense. He’d been locked in before, and even Seamus had had to sneak in with his little trick past Hagrid to see him. Still, Harry wasn’t a stupid boy. He crept along the wall, hiding in the shadows, until he could see down the stairs and into the Common Room. Despite the fact that it was summer, a fire was usually burning in the fireplace and tonight was no exception. He stared hard at the room below him, just barely able to make out a dark shape near the hearth. He listened hard. The shape was moving about stealthily, looking for something. Harry could just hear the word Accio, the Summoning Charm, but he had no idea what someone would be trying to find in Gryffindor Tower. Even the ghosts were all gone for the summer holidays, and there was certainly nothing of HIS that could come up missing. In fact, Harry had no idea where HIS things had taken by Professor Dumbledore when he’d been placed under arrest.

Still, he watched. Whoever it was moved all around the Common Room, then went out through the portal. Harry swallowed hard, and even though he knew that the best thing that he could do was to alert the adults, he crept down the stairs and stuck his head out of the portal. Listening hard, he could just make out the sounds of someone going down the staircase. The boy then slipped down the hall to the landing and leaned over. The dim light of the torches that lit the stairwells was enough for him to make out a man in a black cloak heading down for the ground floor.

Harry ran back to Gryffindor Tower and was immediately confronted by the Fat Lady. “Who was that? Why’d you let him in?” He demanded. The Fat Lady, obviously a bit miffed about being bothered again so late at night, glared at him.

“What are YOU doing out, Potter?” She demanded. “Aren’t you under arrest still?”

“Yes, but who did you just let in?” Harry asked again.

“I didn’t let anyone in,” she replied. “Now get back to bed before I call the Headmaster,” she threatened.

“There was a man in the Common Room looking for something,” Harry informed her. “We have to tell someone!”

“It would take one hell of a Wizard to slip by ME!” The Fat Lady informed him proudly.

Harry sniffed. “There’s a ton of them here RIGHT NOW, trying to have me hanged!” He countered.

“Good point,” The Fat Lady agreed. “I don’t much care for those strange old men anyway.”

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. “What strange old men? There’s no one like that staying the night with me, but for Mr. Kearney,” he told her in an excited tone.

“Met him,” The Fat Lady replied, “Not him. I like HIM! He’s chatty!”

Harry gave up and ran inside. The Portrait was just closing when Harry heard another noise. It was faint, but given Gryffindor Tower’s location, he doubted that anyone else would have heard it. He wasn’t even sure how HE had heard it. Even if Dumbledore and Fudge and Mr. Weasley were still up, they would certainly be in Dumbledore’s office. Harry listened again as he felt a chill spreading over his body.

Someone had screamed.

Harry waited, cocking his head and concentrating. Again, a scream, this time more IN his head than in his ears.

“Wake up!” He shouted, running from door to door and banging on them furiously. “Wake up! Someone was here! Someone screamed!”

Everyone emerged from their borrowed rooms in various attires of nightclothes. Under other circumstances, it might have been funny. Harry, however, took no notice. He ran back to his own room to find the boys all standing in the doorway, staring at him as if he’d gone mad.

“C’mon!” Harry cried, tugging at Ron’s sleeve, “Someone was here! I heard a scream!”

“Now dear,” Mrs. Weasley was saying in a soothing voice, putting her arms around Harry’s shoulders. “It’s probably just another bout of the Dementia thing. You go on back to bed and…”

Then Harry and Seamus both suddenly doubled over, clutching their inner thighs in pain. Seamus cried out, and Harry gritted his teeth. White-hot pain stabbed up through his whole body, and he felt as if he were being sliced in half. “Knife,” Harry choked, as Wood helped him to his feet while Mr. Finnegan got hold of his son.

“What do you mean, Harry?” He demanded, holding his trembling son tight.

“Someone was here, using the Summoning Charm. I got up to pee,” Harry explained, gasping for breath, “and I saw him. I heard him, and the Fat Lady denies seeing anyone. I heard a scream! Someone’s got The Knife of Klingsor, and I think they just used it!”

Everyone shuddered, but Ron suddenly spoke up. His eyes were wide and bright like he’d just realized something very big. “It’s like your lightning bolt scar, Harry! On your forehead!” He cried. “Your scar hurt you when Vol-uh-HIM was around, you remember? What if your Klingsor Mark works the same way?”

Unwittingly, Ron had just exposed Harry as a Eunuch Wizard. Harry, however, didn’t realize it and didn’t care. “C’mon,” he ordered them, “We have to go and find Dumbledore and Fudge!”

They all left the Tower and followed Harry, who had taken Seamus’ hand was leading them down the stairs at a dangerous pace. “I’ll go fer Professor Dumbledore!” Wood called after them, heading off on his own.

“Where did you hear it?” Seamus asked.

Again, a scream. They all stopped, and Harry and Seamus grasped their inner thighs and winced.

“I dunno how I know, but I just know it came from the Slytherin Rooms!” Harry stated in surprise, his emerald eyes flashing.

“Oh shit,” Ron gapsed, “Malfoy!”

“Right,” Harry agreed, as the charged down the stairs to the dungeons where Slytherin House was located.

When they finally arrived in the dungeons, Harry saw a large slab of the rock wall opened up. It was obviously the door into Slytherin House. Harry was the first through the door, and he skidded to a halt in the Common Room. Everyone else ran in behind him and stopped. No one said a word as they looked around in the darkness. Then they all heard whimpering.

Mrs. Weasley then pulled out her Wand and cried “Lumos!”

There on the floor in front of the hearth lay Draco Malfoy. As the Wand burst into light, and they all stared at the pale boy, who lay naked and bleeding. The ladies all turned away, except for Hermione. “Oh no!” She breathed.

Draco was only half conscious and curled up in a ball. He was gripping his crotch, and blood was running from between his fingers. He was gasping and crying, and Harry knew at once what had happened. He ran to the fallen boy’s side and rolled him over, pulling back his own hand covered in blood. “Someone get Madame Pomfrey!” He cried, not knowing what else to do. “He’s bleedin’ bad,” Harry told them as he looked around helplessly for something to use to stop the bleeding.

And then Seamus was there, glowing with a pale cyan aura that lit the room more than Mrs. Weasley’s Wand. His voice was calm as he took Harry’s hand, placing his other on Draco’s wounded crotch and feeling nothing but warm blood beneath it. “We did it once before,” he reminded Harry.

Harry got a hold of himself and nodded. Then he too began to glow. They both concentrated hard on stopping the bleeding as Draco whimpered in pain. The light spread all over the Slytherin boy as the two Gryffindors touched him, and the bleeding slowed. Finally, it stopped. The light from the boys’ cyan aura, however, had attracted everyone’s attention and there were a few whispers. Hermione glanced around nervously, realizing that more than a few of them had just put two and two together.

“I knew it,” Ron suddenly declared, staring down at Draco and leaning in for a closer look. “Someone used The Knife of Klingsor on him! Look at his thigh!”

Sure enough, there on Draco’s inner left thigh was a Mark that looked like an infinity symbol. It was welted up in an angry red color, and it was identical to the Marks carried by Seamus and Harry. “This is just what we don’t need,” Seamus observed. About then, Madame Pomfrey came bustling in. She took one look at the two glowing boys, one bloody one, and the terrified crowd. She shook her head in disgust.

“Oh, not again!” She complained, immediately falling to work on Draco, who had passed out. “Who did this to him?” She snapped, looking about the room for something.

Everyone started talking at once, but then something flashed through Harry’s mind. He remembered his own emasculation, and how Madame Pomfrey had healed him up with some sort of medical Spell. He also began glancing about the floor, searching; the LAST thing that he wanted was for Draco Malfoy to be a REAL Eunuch Wizard! He’d had enough problems with him when he’d been used as a battery for Voldemort. It seemed that Madame Pomfrey was thinking along the same lines. She grabbed Harry’s arm and said, “Try to find them,” and Harry instantly understood what she meant.

As she tended to Malfoy, Harry told Seamus and Ron and the three of them set off to crawling around on the floor. “Hurry boys,” she called after them, “There’s not much time!”

“Seamus,” Harry said, but the Irish lad already knew what he wanted.

“Gotcha!” He replied, making sure that no one was watching him, and then suddenly vanished as he slipped out of Time. In a split second, he was back with the remnants of Draco Malfoy’s bloody and undersized severed boyhood in his hand. He gave it to Madame Pomfrey as everyone else turned away again. Very carefully, she examined the Slytherin’s severed bits and then shoved them into her pocket.

“To the Hospital Wing, NOW!” She barked, drafting Mr. Finnegan to carry Draco. They were all rushing to the Infirmary when they met Dumbledore, Fudge and Arthur Weasley on the stairs. Oliver Wood was with them, and he looked winded.

“What’s happened?” Fudge barked, staring at the crowd that was supposed to be bunking with Harry in Gryffindor Tower. “Why are you all out roaming the School after hours?”

Madame Pomfrey glared at him and shoved him aside, continuing on with Mr. Finnegan and Draco on up to the Infirmary.

“Professor Dumbledore, sir,” Harry cried, “Malfoy’s been attacked!”

Dumbledore gazed at Harry, flanked by Seamus and Ron and backed up by Hermione, with that piercing stare again. Harry met his ice blue eyes, nodding and pointing down between his own legs. The old man’s face went white, and he turned to Fudge.

“It would seem that someone has been tampering with our evidence and attacked young Master Malfoy,” he said in a calm tone. “Harry,” he then asked, turning to bend down and look the boy in the eye, “Was it The Knife of Klingsor that did it? Is that what they used on him?”

Harry nodded, as did Seamus. “We felt it,” they said in unison, grinning at one another before turning seriously back to the Professor. “I found his bits on the floor near the hearth,” Seamus explained to them both. Fudge looked nauseated and leaned heavily on the banister. “Someone tried to toss ‘em in the fire, but missed.”

“No doubt wanting to increase Draco’s Powers for real, this time,” Dumbledore mused. “I would suggest that everyone else go back to Gryffindor Tower. The children should accompany me to the Infirmary. No one else would seem to be in any apparent danger from this particular form of attack, especially the ladies,” he went on with a deep blush. “The rest of us shall follow Poppy to the Infirmary and see if we can revive Draco for a bit and find out what has happened.”

“Potter, you can stop glowing now,” Fudge advised him, “And you too, Finnegan. I didn’t realize it before, at the trial, and I don’t know if YOU realize it or not,” he said to Harry, who turned it off, “But you’ve just outted yourself as a Eunuch Wizard.”

Harry gulped, quickly turning to watch everyone who was headed back down the staircase. Mrs. Weasley was in quite a state, leaning on her husband and the Kearneys bickered formally while Seamus’ mother tried without success to interrupt them. Harry straightened his specs and blinked. “Where’s Ollivander and Grimaldi?” he asked.

“They were bunking in Ravenclaw House,” Fudge replied, “Why?”

“I thought they would have heard it too, after all, Ravenclaw’s closer,” Harry explained.

“Uh, Harry,” Ron informed him as they started off in a tight group with Ron at the center and hanging very close to Professor Dumbledore, “No one else ‘heard’ Malfoy scream. Right before you come bangin’ on the door, Seamus was already up and said HE heard it, but no one else did.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and was about to say something, but they had already arrived at the Hospital Wing. They entered to find Madam Pomfrey just finishing with Malfoy and tucking him in. “Someone had better go tell his father,” she grumbled. “I’ve repaired the damage as best I can.”

Seamus snorted. “Probably already knows.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Fudge asked.

“I’ve reattached his severed genitals, and it seems to have worked,” Madame Pomfrey informed them.

Harry and Seamus exchanged a long, curious look, and then Harry nodded. They’d only told the Ministry a very edited version of what had happened, mentioning that the Malfoys had only been involved. They hadn’t brought up the subject that Draco Malfoy had already been emasculated once before. That, and Madame Pomfrey’s last statement had definitely gotten their attention.

“I think this might just prove what we were talking about a few days ago,” Ron added, with a sick look on his face and his hands over his own crotch.

“I think you’re right,” Harry agreed.

“Well DO fill me in on it, too,” Hermione said irritably.

“Yes, please do,” Fudge agreed. “Why would Lucius Malfoy already know about the attack on his son if no one else but Finnegan and Potter heard it?”

Harry swallowed hard and looked up to Professor Dumbledore, who nodded slowly. His legs were suddenly very weak, and he moved over to a bed across from Malfoy and sat down heavily. Somewhat to his surprise, Seamus and Ron joined him. Seamus then put his arm about Harry’s shoulders and whispered in his ear, “Tell him, Harry. Or I can. We ‘av ta tell them, ya know.”

“Mr. Fudge,” he began, addressing the Minister of Magic but not looking at him, “This all started when Seamus went missing, abducted, whatever YOUR people want to call it … (Hermione glared at Fudge and flipped her hair back) … and Ron and I took Darby O’Gill and went looking for him. Seamus, as you know, is a Eunuch Wizard. What you probably don’t know or might’ve guessed is that I am, too.”

Fudge was the only one who seemed unsurprised, but then his eyes lit up as if he had finally understood something. “So that’s why you glowed at me at the trial yesterday?”

Harry nodded, looking up at him with a pleading stare.

“Go on, boy,” Fudge said, interestedly.

Harry licked his lips and went on. “There’s a reason that you got a letter from the Temporal Affairs people, sir. I DID move in Time, but I won’t say more unless I HAVE to. It’s beside the point. I’m sick from it, and I accept that. But I did what I thought I had to do. You see, I couldn’t save Seamus the first time,” Harry paused, drawing a great breath as Seamus shook him gently and moved closer. Fudge raised an eyebrow. “In fact, I got everyone, including Malfoy, killed. Voldemort was too much for me,” Harry glossed over the fact that Lucius Malfoy had been there, “and I … I … had a choice. Either live with what I’d done, or try and fix it.”

“And how does this relate to what’s going on NOW?” Fudge said, encouraging, kneeling down and watching the boys closely.

“Sir,” Seamus added, “Do you really want to have to open that letter from Temporal Affairs?”

“NO!” Fudge snapped, “Hell, it could be from my grandfather or one of my great-grandsons for all I know!”

Seamus nodded. “Then let Harry finish,” the Irish lad told him in a firm tone, adding a tiny bit of aura for good measure as Dumbledore fought to suppress a snicker and Hermione hovered protectively behind the boys.

“So I went back in time,” Harry continued, “I found The Knife of Klingsor and I … er … castrated myself, sir. I became a Eunuch Wizard, even though I’d not been born wit the Mark like Seamus wuz.”

Fudge’s face went pale and he sat down heavily on the floor. “First it was The Sorcerer’s Stone, now The Knife of Klingsor. What’s next, Potter, a hidden room somewhere full of Dark Magic?”

“It’s been a very long summer for me, sir,” Harry went on, embarrassed, “But it worked. Once I was cut by The Knife, my Wizard Powers went Wild on me. I waited all summer long for Time to catch up with me so I could go after Seamus again. This time, it worked. I got him back, and here we are. I didn’t expect to get into so much trouble, though.”

Fudge shook his head and rested his face in his hands. When he finally looked back up at the boys, it was with a rather odd expression on his face. He laid a hand on Harry’s knee and smiled at him. “What you did was beyond noble, Harry Potter,” he breathed, “I can’t imagine a boy having that kind of devotion to a friend. As it’s been theorized, Harry, something isn’t right at The Ministry. I HAVE been fed some DISinformation. YOU certainly don’t rate being punished for your actions in this. There’s no reason WHY you should have had to have done all of this. The case concerning Seamus obviously was mishandled.” Then he thought hard for a bit. “But how and why?”

“Someone wanted me,” Seamus supplied, “They wanted to steal my Powers. It wuz HIM, sir, Vol-d-er-uh-HIM! I saw him! If it hadn’t been fer Harry, I might be dead now. They had Draco, too, sir. I think in the end, whut they really wanted wuz to harness Wild Power. To do that, they ‘ad to have little boys AND The Knife o’ Klingsor to geld ‘em with. No ordinary knife, er any other way of castration would do it. Harry wuz in their way, too, ‘specially after rescuin’ me. They wanted him gone, an’ thought YOU could do that fer ‘em!”

Fudge was beginning to sweat. “But why?” He asked again in an awed tone, ignoring Seamus’ last statement.

Seamus shrugged. “Why did you have ME castrated?”

“Good point,” Hermione added, glaring at Fudge again. “I suppose it never occurred to you that the Dark Side might find out about the legend of Klingsor and try that if all else failed? Imagine, a whole House full of little Dark Eunuch Wizards on HIS side. Malfoy here was probably going to be the first.”

“But why him?” Fudge wondered.

“In case no one’s told you, Cornelius,” Dumbledore supplied, “Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are NOT the best of friends. It would be very interesting to see what would happen if the one who took down Lord Voldemort went up against one of his disciples, so to speak, in a Duel. I seriously doubt if they planned on HARRY finding The Kinfe before they did, however.”

“NOT something I’d want to see,” Hermione added.

Harry sighed. “It’s almost like, ever since I found out I was a Wizard, no, ever since I was a baby, someone on the Dark Side has been trying to get rid of me.”

Slowly, Fudge stood up. “I think we should leave Madame Pomfrey to tend to Master Malfoy,” he mused, “It would seem that he’s not going to be a Dark Eunuch Wizard today.” Then he looked at Harry again. “I’ll see that all charges against you are immediately dropped,” he told him earnestly, then he sighed – but with a slight grin. “I just can’t understand it, Potter. Self-emasculation? What could have made you come up with THAT notion?”

Only Hermione seemed to be thinking about what Fudge had said, but instead of waxing logical about Harry’s castration, she sighed instead. “Oh, and all my notes on the case, too,” she mourned. “Oh well, at least you’re getting off, Harry!” She cheered, suddenly embracing him and kissing his cheek.

Harry blushed furiously, not knowing what to say. Ron patted his back and Wood shook him by the shoulders. “Tha’s my boy!” He exclaimed proudly.

Harry wanted to say something more, to explain it somehow, but the words just weren’t there. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He KNEW why he’d done it, but how could he say it? Seamus’ arm being around him, though, gave him all the answer that he needed. He looked Fudge right in the eye and said, “I did it because I love him and I couldn’t bear to see him any more miserable than he already was,” Harry stated boldly to Fudge.

“Oy,” Ron mumbled.

Fudge’s mouth fell open, but he didn’t say anything. The look on his face was priceless as he gaped at Harry. He cleared his throat instead. Finally, he managed, “Well be that as it may, I don’t think that YOU or Finnegan should have much to worry about, then.” They all noticed that his face had gone very red.

“Unless whoever was snooping about Gryffindor Tower just beforehand and using the Accio Charm for summoning comes back with The Knife of Klingsor, or worse,” Harry suddenly exclaimed, his green eyes wide. “Either they thought I had it, or that I might…”

“Cornelius,” Dumbledore interrupted, “I think that we should conduct the best search that we can. Have your committee check, but if Harry is right, I’m sure that we’ll find The Knife of Klingsor gone from your briefcase. I don’t know what the person who did this to Draco expected to find in Gryffindor Tower, but there’s obviously something else here that he wants.”

They all looked at the old man, and then followed him out. Behind them, Madame Pomfrey sealed the door and warned them to not try and get back in.

“How could they have gotten The Knife though?” Fudge complained, “How did they get past us and to it?”

“Had to be a good, but sneaky Wizard then,” Ron offered, “Someone slick!”

They were just getting to the staircase when they were met by Ollivander and Grimaldi. Neither of them looked too pleased. “What’s all the ruckus?” Ollivander asked, as Dumbledore pushed the boys back behind a suit of armor and out of sight.

“One of the boys was attacked,” Dumbledore explained, “He’s in the Infirmary, and the doors are sealed. We’re conducting a search.”

“Attacked?” Grimaldi asked, shocked. “Attacked in the Castle?”

Fudge nodded. “Emasculated,” he added, and Grimaldi winced.

“Could you two kindly take the Ravenclaw area?” Dumbledore asked, “And see if you can find the rest of Mr. Fudge’s contingent while we go on here?”

Both old men nodded and set off. The boys rushed back out, leaning down over the banister and watching. “I’ll go and find Lucius,” Grimaldi told Ollivander, “We’ll join you in one ground floor once you find the Ministry folk.”

“Right,” Ollivander replied, his voice fading off.

“And what do we do, Professor?” Hermione asked.

Dumbledore shrugged. “I would just as soon have you all come with me to my office first.”

Fudge then pulled out his Wand, his eyes blazing and falling upon Seamus. “Know this, son,” he said softly, “I never wanted this to happen to you. The Mark only shows up so rarely, and you were the unlucky one. But I will NOT stand by while some nutter with The Knife of Klingsor runs amok gelding boys! I’ll meet you back here in a bit, Albus,” Fudge finished, setting off up the next set of stairs that moved into place.

They all watched him go, and Dumbledore rushed them all back to his office. Up the spiral staircase behind the gargoyle they went, arriving in the small circular room filled with curiosities. Dumbledore ran to a closet and jerked it open, tossing Harry’s black clothes and boots at him. Harry dressed quickly, and then to his surprise, the old man handed him his Wand, his Broomstick, a small pack of his confiscated possessions … and his Invisibility Cloak. Harry stared at him, and then at the Wand. On the hilt, The Sorcerer’s Stone was glowing an angry red color.

“There’s no time,” Dumbledore snapped, waving his own Wand at them and Transfiguring their pajamas into clothing that very much resembled the pattern and color of the Castle walls. “Harry, make use of that Cloak and go get Hagrid, NOW! Tell him what’s happened, and BE careful!” He then kicked the window open and gestured. Harry threw the Cloak over his head, vanished, and the gust of wind out the window told them all that he’d left the room on the Nimbus 2000.

“You all follow me,” Dumbledore ordered them. “Be ready for anything!”

Harry didn’t bother to knock. In his excitement, his aura of Power knocked down Hagrid’s door. The huge man bolted out of bed, staring about as Fang and Fluffy both went wild, sniffing and with tails wagging. As Hagrid lit a lamp, Harry pulled off his cloak and was promptly overrun by the two dogs who were quite pleased to see him. He gave Hagrid a quick run-down of what had happened as he dressed, gathering up his crossbow and his umbrella.

“I’m takin’ yeh back up ter tha School,” Hagrid snapped, but Harry was already on his Broomstick.

“I think Professor Dumbledore wants me back the way I went out,” Harry replied.

“Right,” Hagrid agreed, tossing the Cloak over Harry and adjusting it. Then he paused. “Why dint they lock yeh back up?”

“Oh,” Harry said absently, “I’ve been let off, Fudge said so!”

Hagrid’s eyes filled and he grabbed at where he thought Harry should have been. His arms wrapped around the invisible boy as the dogs sat and waited. He sobbed in relief, holding Harry tightly and nearly breaking his ribs. A whole summer of Hagrid’s food and working with him, though, had toughened Harry up enough to where it was only mildly painful. And then Hagrid slid the Cloak back and stared into Harry’s emerald eyes. He placed a gigantic hand on either of the boy’s smooth cheeks and tenderly kissed him. “I couldn’t’a beared t’uh seen yeh found guilty,” he choked. Then he seemed to get hold of himself. “GO!” He snapped, charging off to the Castle with the dogs in pursuit.

Harry pulled his Cloak back down and vanished. He rose into the night sky as a large cloud obscured what was left of the moon. He strained his eyes over the grounds, glancing at the rapidly approaching window of Dumbledore’s office as he steered with one hand. He was just about to the sill when he glanced down again and gasped, very nearly dropping his Wand.

A figure in black was headed out of the side of the Castle and making for the Forest.

Harry shoved his Wand into his mouth hilt-first and grabbed the Nimbus 2000 with both hands. He quickly turned in mid-air, narrowly missing the windowsill, and dived fast twith the chill night air whistling in his ears. Giving no thought to his own safety, he followed above the running figure and soon caught up with him. An odd taste filled his mouth, something thick and sweet, and he swallowed. It tasted like syrup, but he was too afraid to let go of the Broomstick. He slowed a bit, and then a familiar “HOOT!” got his attention. “Ullo, ‘Edwichhh,” Harry mumbled with Wand still in his mouth. Hedwig gave him an annoyed look, and Harry wondered if she could see through his Cloak as the dark figure entered the tree line.

Dodging trees and owls and a few annoyed bats, they followed him in.

Darkness closed around him, and Harry slowed down. He followed the sound of crunching twigs and dead leaves, barely able to make out the tree trunks all around him. Then the figures below lit his Wand, panting hard, and Harry followed that beam of light. Deeper and deeper into the forest they went, and Harry began to soon hear odd noises from the denizens of the Forbidden Forest. He remembered his first trip into the Forest, during his First Year. He wondered where Firenze the Centaur was right then, keeping his eyes on the people below him and knowing full well that he should report back to the Castle and Professor Dumbledore.

Still, he followed.

Was it his imagination, or was there a light up ahead? Harry rose up with Hedwig beside him, but the treetops obscured his view. He dipped back down, and in a few minutes, they had emerged into a clearing. What Harry saw made his heart nearly stop.

Etched in the dirt and lined in phosphorous, glowing pale green like some nightmare come to life, was an outline of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Harry stopped and landed on a broad limb, very high up, and stared down in horror as Hedwig lit on his shoulder. In the center of the skull was a small stone altar, and tied down upon it was a naked boy that Harry had never seen before. He squinted hard, just able to make out the boy’s pale skin and dark brown crew cut hair. He was gagged, and he was struggling against the ropes that held him for all he was worth. He looked too young to come to Hogwart’s, even for his First Year, and Harry did not recognize him.

A second figure then stepped out from the trees.

“Baddock!” Harry breathed, nearly falling off of his limb as he recognized the company lawyer from the Ministry who had tried to have him hanged for rescuing Seamus!

“You have The Knife?” Baddock demanded.

“I do,” gasped the dark figure, pulling back his hood and reaching into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, Harry could plainly see in the green glow of the skull The Knife of Klingsor. It was still covered in Draco’s blood, and the blade was shining through it.

“The Knife of Klingsor!” Baddock breathed, handling it lovingly and looking up. “The moon wanes at three. It won’t be long now, my friend.”

Harry watched as Baddock approached the boy on the altar, who took one look at The Knife of Klingsor and screamed into his gag with renewed struggles.

“Now, now, son,” Baddock crooned, setting The Knife on the altar and pulling a bit of twine from his pocket. “It’ll only hurt for a bit, hurt like hell probably! But you’ll be such a great Wizard, son! A great, Dark Eunuch Wizard who will lead the new young followers from Hogwart’s into resurrecting the Dark Lord!” He cried with relish. “You will be the one to crush Harry Potter and that ridiculous Irish waif, Finnegan!”

The boy that Harry assumed to be Baddock’s own son didn’t seem to be too pleased with this idea, however. He cried and struggled, shaking his head with eyes wide and unbelieving. Then, very carefully, Baddock wrapped the cord tightly around his small genitals and knotted it. The boy screamed again, his cries barely muffled by the gag as his boyhood was painfully tied off.

“Malfoy’s been found,” the first figure then said, and Harry gripped the tree trunk tightly. “That Witch of a nurse has him in the Infirmary.”

“No!” Harry breathed, sticking his head out of the Cloak for a better look, “It cahn’t be!”

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and nipped his ear.

“No matter,” Baddock replied, picking up The Knife again. “Once I have cut Malcolm here and he has healed, we can go for Draco Malfoy and take him back.”

“But Baddock,” the first figure replied, turning into the light, “What if Pomfrey heals him first?”

“You threw his genitals into the fire, did you not?” Baddock snapped, “Or are you too old and senile to follow orders?”

And then the first man pulled his hood back the rest of the way. A pale aura of cyan light poured out of his robes, and he seemed to betray his many years as he rose up and snarled at Baddock. “I have been at this quest since before your great-grandfather was in diapers,” he sneered. “Who else would know the signs and portents as I would?” He went on in a high voice that must have once sounded musical. “I’ve labored for years at this, only to have the Universe bestow the Mark on a … a GOOD boy! I’ve spent decades in obscurity in Diagon Alley, peddling music and waiting. I’ve sacrificed my LIFE for this moment! How dare you insult Alessandro Grimaldi, the last great Eunuch Wizard of the Age?”

“Bloody fuckin’ hell!” Harry choked, staring down at Grimaldi in disbelief as his Cloak fell about his feet. There before him was the man who had regaled him with a bittersweet tale of his own castration and subsequent love at a Conservatorio in Naples so long ago. Harry stared at the man who had, as young castrato singer, loved another boy and who had been taken away from his musical life to study Magic at Hogwart’s. It was simply too much to believe as Harry slid down the trunk to sit on the limb, holding his Wand and not really sure of what to do.

Breathing hard and trying to blend back into the tree bark, Harry watched with the two men as the clouds cleared and the moon began to wane. The thin sliver grew thinner and thinner, and the night grew darker. Harry pulled up his hood and shivered, thinking hard as time ticked by.

I need help, he thought, But we’re too far away. If I leave, they’ll cut him! Shit! What do I do? He thought of sending Hedwig, but realized that she might not make it back with help in time.

“Need some help?” A small, piping voice then whispered in Harry’s ear, and Harry screamed as Hedwig took flight in alarm, hooting angrily. He almost dropped his Wand again as well. The men below looked up, but it was too dark to see up into the high tree. Harry jumped, catching his Broomstick, which assumed that he was taking off and shot backwards and up. He paused, thinking to take off for the Castle after all, when he saw who is was that had spoken to him.

“Owl,” Baddock shrugged from the ground below, going back to eagerly watching the waning moon as his son stopped struggling and began to cry in resignation as his genitals began to turn blue.

Harry looked again, and smiled. He returned to the limb to stand face to face with a small boy. Long, golden curls spilled down over his ears and shoulders, and his eyes were a strange shade of ice blue in the dim light of the Forest. When he spoke, small puffs of steam came from his soft, red lips. He was dressed in a short brown tunic and wearing fur-lined short boots. The tunic’s hood was down, of course, and his forearms were covered in leather gauntlets. Instead of a Wand, in his right hand he held a hammer that looked to Harry to be about an eight-pound sledge with a short handle that Muggles often used.

Harry’s jaw dropped as the boy brushed his long, golden curls back to reveal a silver loop earring in his left ear.

“Darby?!” He breathed.

“Hello, Harry. Bit uv a spot you’re in, no?”

Harry smiled, wondering at Darby’s accent that hit the consonants a bit too hard and almost sounded like he was coughing. But then again, everyone told him that he sounded like Hagrid, so he let it slide. Instead, he nodded and pointed down.

“Ja, Darby groaned, “Damn Dark Vizards. Whut ya think we outta do ‘bout it?” He asked in a strangely accented mix of Nordic and Irish.

“I think we need help,” Harry whispered, as Darby fondled his hammer.

“Righ’, then,” Darby agreed with a smile, “I’ll go fer help while you attack!”

Harry gaped at him. “Have your brains frozen?”

Darby smiled and leaned back against the tree. “Help is a’ready on the way,” he whispered. “Comin’ on four legs, actually. Yeh might call yers too, tho.”

Harry realized what Darby meant and jumped on his Broomstick again with his Cloak back over him. He rose up high above the canopy where Hedwig was circling, the Castle looking small in the distance. He aimed his Wand at the highest turret, concentrated, and then let off a tight blast of cyan light that raced outwards like a small bolt of lightning. “Accio, Fluffy!” He whispered, hoping that Baddock and Grimaldi didn’t hear him.

“Well then where in the hell did he go?” Hagrid bellowed as they all charged down the staircase and out the front door of the Castle.

“I assumed he would come back with YOU, Rubeus,” Dumbledore replied, looking around and then suddenly leaping out of the way as a great bolt of cyan lightning came shooting down out of the sky. They all followed it back with their eyes, and were all very nearly knocked down as Fluffy (Hagrid’s great three-headed dog) came flying out of the front doors with a yelp and took to the sky.

“Either tha’s a Summonin’ Charm, er Fluffy’s lernt ter fly,” Hagrid mused, as Ron gaped in panic.

“That THING is STILL here?” He complained.

“I think we jus’ found ‘Arry,” Seamus mused. “C’mon!”

Just then, Cornelius Fudge appeared in the doorway with his entourage. They all looked a bit winded from searching. “Found nothing!” Fudge spat in disgust, glancing up at the sky as if nothing were amiss. “Flying dogs the norm around here, Albus?” He asked nonchalantly. “Where was I? Oh, yes. We dint find a thing. Malfoy’s with his son in the Infirmary, though, and Poppy’s really tearing into him. I expect Lucius will be getting a call from the Division of Wizarding Family and Children’s Services shortly, though, and Arthur Weasley’s just itching to get hold of him.” Then he shook his head as the rest of the Ministry stared up at the sky in awe. “Looks like we’ve located Potter!”

“Wonderful,” Dumbledore agreed, watching Fluffy sail off over the Forest. “Now that we’ve located Lucius Malfoy, let’s go help Harry, shall we?”

“Still, we don’t know for sure who attacked the Malfoy boy,” Mr. Ollivander added, “And if we’re not trying Harry Potter tomorrow and I don’t need to testify, would anyone mind if I went back to bed? I’m far too old for this!”

Dumbledore waved him off, summoning up some Broomsticks from the Quidditch locker rooms with his Wand. They all mounted up as Ollivander went back inside, mumbling to himself. “Need me for a witness, indeed! I was a witness last year when the Wand chose HIM! Great things, yes … Great, terrible things, Harry!” And he slammed the door.

“It’s time,” Baddock said to Grimaldi, as the night seemed to somehow grow even darker. He moved closer to the altar, and the boy screamed into his gag again.

Grimaldi moved in closer too as Baddock raised The Knife of Klingsor. He took the boy’s cold and blue genitals in his hand, positioned the blade just under them, and took a deep breath. “Remember this, son,” he said in an oily tone, “The Power that you’ll blessed with is worth far more than any kind of sex you’d ever have had!”

“A’right, tha’s it,” Darby muttered as Harry swung back towards the limb. He pulled his Cloak off and Darby jumped on the Nimbus with him. They dived.

Young Malcolm Baddock’s eyes were wide as his father held the razor sharp Knife. He stared in disbelief as his hand began to move, ready to make the cut, and then yelped into his gag as his father was knocked over backwards. The Knife went flying into the brush with a great rush of air as Harry’s Nimbus 2000 slammed into him. Baddock went down gasping, and the boys rolled off of the Broomstick to land on their feet.

“I thought you’d be out of my way by now, Potter,” Grimaldi sneered at them, drawing his Wand as Harry did the same. Darby swung his weightless hammer effortlessly back and forth, his blue eyes flashing. “And you’ve brought a friend, too! How charming!”

“This is going to stop,” Harry informed him. “You’ll not cut that boy!”

“And who is going to stop me?” Grimaldi laughed at them. “You? I don’t think so. You’ll only get one chance this time, Potter, and I’m in much better shape than Lord Voldemort was when you met him last week!” And with that, Grimaldi began to glow with the same cyan aura that Harry and Seamus had. Harry nodded at him and did the same, his entire body igniting in cyan fire.

“Have it your way,” he replied, as little Malcolm Baddock began to struggle on the altar again.

In one quick movement, Darby swung his hammer at the stone altar. The altar was blasted to pieces by the blow, denying that the hammer was weightless. Young Baddock was hurled into the air, but Darby pointed his hammer at him. The ropes that had bound him burst into flame and vanished, and boy floated to the ground. He instantly tore his gag out of his mouth and made to run, but Darby was already on him. He dragged the boy behind a large tree, talking soothingly to him and trying to settle him down so that he could unbind his genitals before permanent damage set in.

Then Grimaldi attacked.

“To the death then, Potter!” The old man cried, ”Expelliarmus!”

But Harry sidestepped the blast, fully anticipating it and countering with a blast of raw Power that sent leaves, dirt and twigs flying out from under Grimaldi’s feet and dropping him hard. The old man hit the ground and rolled, coming up and firing back with much the same. A large cyan fireball destroyed the spot where Harry had been standing, but the young Wizard had already leapt aside and fired back again.

Harry’s blast struck Grimaldi full in the chest, throwing him backwards against the trunk of the Ash Tree. He was just about to fire again, when suddenly a pair of hands seized him about the neck. “Not so fast, Potter,” Baddock hissed in his ear. Harry struggled for air and began to see spots. He jabbed his elbows back into Baddock’s ribs, but he wasn’t physically strong enough to hurt him. He watched as Grimaldi got back to his feet, cursing sulfurously. Harry’s vision was fading fast, but he could just make out Darby. The small boy seemed to be talking to a tree, and Harry choked in desperate try for air. The old man then pointed his Wand at him, but the spots before Harry’s eyes suddenly vanished and a wave of fresh air filled his lungs as Baddock let go with a scream of pain that was accompanied by a loud snarl.

Harry turned his head and saw white feathers and black fur, heard the beating of wings and a shrieking howl of fury. Hedwig was mauling about Baddock’s face with her talons, and blood was flying as she snapped at his scalp. Then he remembered Grimaldi, and turned back just in time to see an unbelievably huge bat swoop in and grab his Wand. The bat took to the sky, chattering and waving his large ears as his orange eyes blinked. From the tree behind him, an impossibly large black dog had emerged and was also bearing down upon them.

“Ho, Vlad!” Darby called out, and Vlad dropped the Wand. Harry watched in wonder as the transplanted Irish boy threw his hammer at the falling Wand. His aim was true, and Grimaldi’s Wand exploded into splinters as Darby’s hammer struck it. The small blonde boy then held out his hand, and the hammer sailed back to him like a boomerang. “Fenris, get ‘im!” Darby cried. Vlad then flew down and joined Hedwig in mauling at Baddock, his razor sharp fangs drawing even more blood as the two of them chased the lawyer into the trees. Fenris followed behind at a leisurely pace, snapping at his heels.

”So much fer ‘im,” Darby muttered, going back to Malcolm and hastily transfiguring a handkerchief from his pocket into a robe for the shivering boy.

Grimaldi stared in disbelief as the fragments of his Wand rained down upon them. He fixed Harry with an evil stare, and his aura intensified. Harry took a deep breath and did the same.

“Surprised, Potter?” the old man asked, trying to distract him.

“Yes,” Harry replied, even though he was more distracted by Baddock’s wails and Fenris’ howls from the Forest.

“Wondering why I did it, are you?”

“Some,” Harry replied, keeping his mind focused and Wand ready.

“Pity you’ll never find out, then,” Grimaldi snapped at him, suddenly throwing a green fireball out of nowhere at him. It was huge, and Harry didn’t have time to act. “You don’t NEED a Wand when you know HOW to do it, Potter, remember what I told you?” Grimaldi laughed as he launched it.

Harry’s emerald eyes went wide as the fireball struck him. For an instant, his entire body felt like thousands of fire ants were biting at him. He grew dizzy, but then a very sweet and syrupy taste filled his mouth. He shook his head and grinned back at Grimaldi, reversing his Wand and holding it up to reveal the angry red Sorcerer’s Stone.

“You cahn’t kill me that easily,” Harry mused.

“So THAT’S where it went!” Grimaldi breathed in wonder. “I should have known that Albus Dumbledore wouldn’t destroy it! Tell me, Potter, what could we do with such a treasure?”

Harry thought for a moment and stuck the hilt of his Wand in his mouth, much like a lollipop. He pulled it back out. “Live forever, I suppose,” he answered. “Sure comes in handy when people keep tryin’ ter kill yeh.”

Grimaldi nodded. “I think I’ll be taking that now,” he said to Harry, drawing himself up again. He was just about to strike at Harry again when a great crashing from the underbrush interrupted him. Harry smiled as Fluffy leapt forward, snapping and snarling with all three heads, to place himself between Harry and Grimaldi.

“Nice try,” Grimaldi hissed, firing upon the huge dog instead.

The blast, however, took Fluffy full in throat. It struck his collar and dog tag, and ricocheted off into the trees. Hagrid has obviously tampered with it, placing a Protection Charm upon it. Fluffy shook his heads and lunged at the Wizard, but Grimaldi Disapparated with a loud BANG!

“Watch him!” Harry cried out, running to Fluffy’s side to make sure that he was all right. Fluffy licked him and Harry managed to laugh. “Stop that now!” He said, looking about for Grimaldi.

“Where’d he go?” Darby yelled back, raising his hammer and keeping an arm about the shoulders of Malcolm who was still quite dazed and confused.

Darby got his answer soon enough as another BANG! announced Grimaldi’s presence. He’d Apparated right behind the boy. The Dark Wizard pushed Malcolm aside and grabbed Darby, swinging his foot up to kick at his wrist. Harry heard bones snap, and Darby screamed as Grimaldi grabbed him about the throat as he dropped his hammer.

“Give me The Stone, Potter,” the old man ordered, “Or I’ll break his neck. Not even YOU, as a Eunuch Wizard, can fix that fast enough!”

Harry’s mind raced as he wondered what to do. From far off in the trees, he could hear Baddock still crashing about as Hedwig and Vlad continued to assault him. For a dread instant, Harry thought that he was coming back as the crashing grew louder. He cocked his head, holding a steadying hand on Fluffy. His Wand felt warm in his hand, and he knew that he was only going to get one chance. His fingers twitched, ready to release his Will, but at that very instant Darby vanished!

Grimaldi looked about, but saw only a terrified Malcolm who was backing away from him and shaking his head. “Where is he, Potter?” The old man snapped, glancing about the forest floor. “No matter. I’ll finish you both and find The Knife later!”

“I don’t think so,” another voice then cried from above as Albus Dumbledore, dressed again in his World War 2 bomber’s outfit, came swooping down from the canopy and crashed headlong into Grimaldi. The two old men went down in a heap, and Fluffy lunged.

“Get back!” A familiar voice then shouted at Harry, and a hand that sent a shiver of pleasure through him grabbed him by the shoulder. Harry spun around to see Seamus Finnegan smiling at him, his other hand around Darby’s shoulders. The blonde boy was blinking rapidly, holding his broken arm, and trying to adjust to Seamus jerking him out of Time so abruptly.

They did indeed move back to join Ron, Hermione and Wood, along with Mr. Fudge and Hagrid who had just come along. Harry slid his Wand up his sleeve a bit, so that Fudge wouldn’t see The Stone. He had enough problems as it was without having to explain THAT. Together, they watched as Dumbledore and Grimaldi abandoned their Wizarding skills and instead went at one another like tavern brawlers as Fluffy sat down on his haunches and watched as well. He cocked his three heads and whined.

“How?” Harry began, but Seamus just grinned at him.

“We followed Fluffy,” he explained. “That and the noise. You were making quite the ruckus. I slipped ‘out’ and grabbed Darby, and here we are!”

“Shouldn’t we do something, though?” Hermione asked, pointing at the two brawling old men and looking imploringly at Fudge.

“Eh, let ‘em duke it out,” Hagrid informed her. “I don’ think the Professor’s ‘ad this much fun in years!”

And it would seem that he hadn’t. Despite his age, Dumbledore moved with the agility of a man decades younger. Grimaldi threw a punch at his face, but the Professor jerked his head and came back at him, hitting him square in the jaw. Stunned, Grimaldi didn’t fight back as Dumbledore slammed him limply up against a tree and shook him. “YOU backstabbing son of a bitch!” He yelled, landing another blow, which broke Grimaldi’s nose. Blood fountained out all over them, and Grimaldi shook his head to knee the Professor in the gut. Dumbledore grunted, dropped him, and then spun around to land his right foot square on the side of the old Eunuch’s head.

Grimaldi sailed across the clearing and into the middle of the remnants of the glowing skull outline, spitting out a tooth and groaning. Dumbledore strode over to him, as inexorable as Death Himself. He grasped Grimaldi’s robe and yanked him to his feet, his long nose twitching and his ice blue eyes flashing. “I should just…”

“Stop!” Hermione shouted, “Professor, don’t!”

Dumbledore, without taking his off of Grimaldi, nodded. “Indeed, Miss Granger. Were I to finish off this traitor now, we’d not hear his side of the story! Thank you!”

“You’ll get nothing from me!” Grimaldi wheezed, his nose still bleeding.

“Fine then, Harry if you would?” Dumbledore asked calmly.

“Fluffy, sic ‘em!” Harry shouted.

The three-headed dog lunged, and Grimaldi went white. “I’ll talk!” He cried, and Fluffy skidded to a halt, disappointed. He skulked back over to Hagrid, and lay down at his feet.

“Fluffy,” Harry then said to the great dog, “Why don’t you go track down Fenris and Mr. Baddock before he eats him? Bring them back?” Fluffy yipped happily and took off, nose to the ground and tail wagging.

“Baddock?” Fudge exclaimed in alarm. “What’s he doing here? I just sacked him!” the portly man asked, looking up from his examination of Darby’s wrist. “And who is this boy?” He asked.

“Darby O’Gill, sir,” Darby replied, “I’ve been sort of, er, travellin’, yeh might say,” he explained with a grin as Fudge tapped his wrist with his Wand and set the bone. Darby flinched and flexed his hand. “Thanks,” he breathed in relief.

“Don’ tell Poppy,” Fudge told him, “But I had some first aid training way back when. It would seem that you’re not missing after all, then?”

“No, sir,” Darby replied, smiling at Seamus. “I’ve jus’ been sent to a different School is all.”

“Yer a quick study,” Harry observed, and Seamus smiled back. There was a odd expression on his face, though, and Darby moved to his side to take him a tight hug.

“What’s that all about?” Fudge asked, as Dumbledore dragged Grimaldi over.

“Lost friends,” Ron answered, as they just watched the two Irish boys in silence.

After a moment, Fudge nodded, and then turned to Grimaldi. “Out with it!” He snapped, “Before I start rewriting Wizarding Laws and do something horrible to you! And what was that about Baddock?”

“M-m-mister F-fudge, s-sir,” a small voice then stammered from the edge of the trees. Everyone looked up as Malcolm Baddock, white and shaken, emerged from behind a bush. Oliver Wood ran over to him and scooped him up, and for a moment, Harry was reminded of what Old Harry had told him about being carried to bed each night in the other Timeline. Wood’s face was a mystery as he carried the trembling boy over to the rest of them and held him. Malcolm’s eyes darted from Fudge to Grimaldi and back, and then he buried his face in Wood’s shoulder and began to cry.

Grimaldi snorted, and Fudge grabbed him by the front of the robe, shoving his Wand into his face. “Out with it!”

“Oh, very well, then,” the old Eunuch sighed. “I supposed you’re all thoroughly shocked? And as for doing horrible things to me, Fudge, there’s nothing that YOU could possibly do to me that’s worse than what I’ve already endured for this profession. Magic, indeed! You should have left me alone centuries ago!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fudge snapped, as Grimaldi eyed all of the drawn Wands pointed at him.

Ron’s eyes, however, had gone wide. “Back in Diagon Alley,” he exclaimed, “The story he told us! Remember, Harry?”

Harry thought for a bit and then nodded sadly. “But you of all people? Why would YOU be wanting to … to … make MORE Eunuch Wizards if…”

But Grimaldi interrupted him. “For revenge!” He snapped, “I was never happier in my life than when I was at the Conservatorio with John B. I loved him, I loved the music, and I was loved in return.” Grimaldi’s eyes then filled, and he looked away. “Then the Headmaster of Hogwart’s came and took me away. I hated this place,” he went on, “And I hated what they did to me with The Knife of Klingsor. What did I know about Magic? I was a singer! I was dragged off to a new School and away from all my friends. Once they found out that I was a Eunuch, I was either ignored or made fun of. Hogwart’s wasn’t like the Conservatorio, no. It was as different as could be. One day I was a talented castrato amongst other castrati; the next day I was just a fumbling young Eunuch among little Wizards. I wrote and wrote to John, but his letters stopped coming one day. I was miserable and homesick. You can’t know how that felt,” Grimaldi sighed, his lined face going tender for a moment before settling back into a scowl.

“I think I can,” Seamus whispered, staring into Darby’s eyes and then back at the old man.

“Be that as it may, Finnegan,” Grimaldi continued, “I wanted revenge. I graduated with honors from Hogwart’s, I worked hard and waited. I did what was expected of me. I fought the good fight, brought glory to the Wizarding world and such. But I wasn’t happy, no! I longed for the day that I could bring my revenge to fruition. I watched the signs, I did, and for centuries I waited. When Lord Voldemort rose up, he seemed to be the best thing to come along that suited my plans. I allied myself with him before he even had such a following, long before anyone was afraid to speak his name! I plotted to find The Knife, but over time it fell into Legend and I could not locate it. There were no more Eunuch Wizards; it seemed that I was to be the last, and that I was going to live forever.”

Harry gazed at the old man, mouth open in wonder. He moved closer to Seamus and Darby, and Hermione and Ron joined them.

“Friends,” Grimaldi spat. “I didn’t plan on that, Potter!” He continued, glaring at the children. “Imagine my shock when you came traipsing into my Shoppe, looking for the missing Finnegan boy and then later coming BACK in Time to tell me that you were a Eunuch Wizard as well! Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, a Eunuch? That REALLY threw a wrench into my plans!”

“So it was YOU who told on Harry?” Hermione surmised, “You turned him in so that the Ministry would go after him? And you knew that Baddock was a Dark Wizard, didn’t you? How fortunate for you.”

Grimaldi nodded. “Potter was in my way! He’d already taken down the Dark Lord twice, and I had to get rid of him! Then he showed up castrated, bristling with Wild Power, and I knew that he would find Finnegan. I knew that together, we were probably no match for them, and I’d worked too hard to get someone to grab the Irish waif for me and deliver him to Voldemort. There’s never been two Eunuch Wizards at the same time, or so the Legend says, and it was too much to chance.”

“And you thought that the Ministry would find Harry guilty, but just to make sure, you trumped up a batch of charges to level at him as well?” Hermione dug in. Then she thought for a moment. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t try and steal Harry as well, right along with Seamus.”

Grimaldi laughed, a sickening sound. “If they’d found him guilty, they’d have buried him UNDER Azkaban, or hanged him!” The old man chortled. “I knew when I saw him in two places at once that he had to be doing something that an Underage Wizard should NOT be up to, and I acted. I didn’t have the time, nor was I willing to gamble trying to convert HIM. But I knew that he’d failed the first time in his rescue, before he’d even left the Shoppe. I let him go, though, just for the suffering that I knew he’d endure if he failed. In addition, I figured that’s he use Magic even more, and get himself into more trouble as he grew more desperate!”

Hermione’s jaw dropped at the old Eunuch’s tone in what he’d just said. He was looking at Harry in much the same way that Professor Snape usually did; everyone expected it from SNAPE though.

“That sort of explains Malfoy then,” Ron added.

“Lucius Malfoy?” Fudge snapped, “Draco’s dad? The boy who was attacked tonight?”

“That half-wit,” Grimaldi added in disgust. “I told him of our plans, and he said no. NO ONE says ‘no’ to me! It wasn’t hard to take over his boy’s mind and lead him on, but his father was another matter. I had to use a very complex Imperius Curse on him, alter his memory, and exhaust myself to get him to go along with it. I had plenty of opportunity, though, since they’re both lovers of music and spent a great deal of gold in my Shoppe.

“Believe it or not, he wasn’t keen on the idea of a kidnapping, even if it was to revive his former Master. Said he had too much to lose – tempting as my offer sounded - that he’d been tricked by Voldemort the first time, and when I mentioned castrating his son, well…he went all to bits on me! That’s when I had to act. He botched it, of course. Castrated him with a Shrinking Solution, of all things! You can’t have a fake Eunuch Wizard; you have to use The Knife, as Mr. Potter knows. Still, Draco had the ambition, and he HATED Potter. I knew it from the first time that I saw him in my Shoppe, that the boy would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He used to complain about Potter endlessly when he’d come in to shop, so I knew that I could use him. That’s why I crept into Fudge’s room and stole The Knife, castrated the Malfoy boy, and fled the Castle to come and add the first disciple to my following!”

He was interrupted, however, by a strangled sob from little Malcolm Baddock. Wood still held him tightly, patting his back and holding his head down on his shoulder. “M-my dad,” Malcolm whimpered.

“He’s done a bad thing, son,” Fudge told him a calm voice, “But I’ll make sure we get you home, OK?”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm whispered politely, then went back to crying on Wood’s shoulder.

“If you don’t mind, I think I should take him up to Madame Pomfrey,” Wood suggested, summoning his Broomstick when Dumbledore nodded and taking off with the boy. It wasn’t a moment, and they could hear just make out squeals of delight instead of sobs from high above the canopy of trees.

“Tha’s Oliver fer yuh,” Ron stated, “Cheerin’ ‘im up!”

“You Quidditch people are all nuts,” Hermione commented, turning back to Fudge and Grimaldi, who were glaring at one another.

The boys grinned at her.

Hermione then spoke up again. “Anyway, so you found out that Baddock was a Dark Wizard, and a high ranking Ministry lawyer,” she went on, “You had him lie to Mr. Fudge and arrange the trial of Harry Potter. Then you told him all those lies about Harry’s doings, and then if the Malfoys failed you, you planned on using Baddock and his son for your plan?”

“To bring back the Dark Lord?” Dumbledore asked, “I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Oh, the Dark Lord was only part of it, you fool!” Grimaldi retorted hotly. “After all, Voldemort was knocked down, stripped of his Powers by a BABY! He was weak, incompetent, but I needed his reputation and popularity. That was something I lacked. I needed the Finnegan boy to help revive him, or perhaps even convert the boy to our side. What I intended to do was to make others suffer as I’ve suffered! Imagine, a whole School full of little Eunuch Wizards, studying the Dark Arts, and eventually … someday …” Grimaldi went on in a dreamy tone, “Bringing down Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and of jumping the world to make the Muggles run for their very lives! Voldemort would have fallen for that one, he would’ve!”

Just then, Fluffy arrived – followed by Fenris, Hedwig and Vlad - carrying a limp Mr. Baddock in his center mouth. He dropped the lawyer at Hagrid’s feet, and the huge man scooped him up easily and shook him into consciousness.

“A’right, Baddock?” Hagrid snapped at him, “Yer friend here wuz jus’ tellin’ us ‘bout how yeh was up ter castratin’ yer boy and tryin’ to have Harry sent up the river, yeh lyin’ git!”

“I refuse … to speak … on the grounds that…,” Baddock wheezed, but Hagrid hauled off and slugged him in the mouth, knocking him out. “Damn Dark Lawyer Wizards,” he swore.

“Figures,” Hermione said nonchalantly, as Hedwig fluttered over and hooted in greeting. “Hello, Hedwig,” she replied, and the snowy owl then perched on Harry’s shoulder and nipped his ear. “But you didn’t count on Harry’s devotion to his friend did you?” Hermione finished, watching the odd look come over the old man’s face. It was a pained expression, and Grimaldi’s eyes filled.

“I, of all people, should have seen it in Potter,” he sighed, his voice dropping to a whisper and his face going oddly softer. “I should have seen how he acted whenever one of them mentioned Finnegan. I should have known that he loved him, and that that kind of love would stop at nothing.”

“But you still wanted Seamus and his Powers, and you wanted to dispose of Harry,” Fudge added. “And what of the Dark Lord? What has become of him now that you’ve failed?”

“He’s hiding again, weak and exhausted,” Grimaldi supplied with a wave of his hand, as if dismissing Voldemort totally. “He’s worthless as he is now, since Potter and Finnegan kicked his arse so badly!”

“And he’s hiding in Albania, then?” Fudge pressed, “Since you failed?”

“Right,” Grimaldi nodded, “And I’d have succeeded if it hadn’t been for that meddling brat and his bird!” He screamed, lunging suddenly at Harry.

It happened so suddenly that no one ever really knew who did it; those who would remember would attribute it, some time later to the combination of Powers. Harry fell back, but Seamus caught him as Fudge and Dumbledore lunged at Grimaldi. Darby’s hammer flew to his healed hand, and a combination of the hammer, Ron and Hermione’s Wands, and Harry and Seamus’ Wild Powers all opened up at once.

Grimaldi was picked up and hurled across the clearing, his robes on fire, to slam back-first into a tree. They could all hear the sickening sounds of bones shattering, and the old Eunuch Wizard fell to the ground and lay very still. A pale nimbus of cyan light flickered about him, mixing with the smoke from his clothing, and then went out. He lay very still as they all stared and Hermione gasped, a hand going up to cover her mouth.

Albus Dumbledore went over, bent down to examine him, and rose up slowly. He faced the children, shaking his head.

No one said a thing. Dumbledore quietly led the stunned children away, followed by the dogs, as Hagrid and Fudge buried the body in a very deep Magically excavated grave. Fudge then translocated a large boulder, dropped it in on top of the fallen Dark Wizard, and refilled the hole. He summoned twigs and leaves and dirt from the Forest floor, covering the grave over so that no one would ever even know that it was there.

They all mounted their Broomsticks again in silence as Dumbledore Apparated the dogs to the front gates of the School, since no one could Apparate INTO the grounds because of the Charms set for protection. Darby climbed on a Broomstick with Seamus, who hovered near Harry and Hedwig as Vlad settled upside-down on Darby’s arm. They all rose up above the canopy to return to the School, but then Professor Dumbledore slid in to hover next to them with a solemn expression.

“Harry, if you would kindly bring back The Knife,” he suggested.

Harry nodded and said, “Accio, Knife.” Seamus gulped as The Knife of Klingsor flew up out of the Forest and into Harry’s waiting hand as they all set off for Hogwart’s.

“Ron?” Harry asked as they were escorted back up to Gryffindor quietly so as not to wake the adults.

It was the first thing that anyone had said all the way home. They were simply too shocked for talk. In essence, they’d all killed Grimaldi. No one was sure who was really responsible, but it had affected them all very deeply.

“Yea?” Ron replied as they climbed the stairs to the boys’ Dormitory.

“I…I don’ wanna sleep by…by myself yeh know,” Harry faltered, as he, Ron, Seamus and Darby went inside and shut the door. Darby glanced around the room curiously, as he’d been doing since they’d arrived back at the School. He seemed to be quite impressed, but hadn’t said anything.

“Yea,” Seamus added, “Me either. Where’s Wood?”

“He stayed with Malcolm in the Hospital Wing,” Ron answered, shaking his red head. “Poor kid. Imagine, yer own dad doin’ that to yeh.”

“I hope his…his bits are alright,” Harry sighed, pulling off his clothes and standing with his back to him. “I mean, he was tied a long time.”

Ron had just pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside, staring at Harry’s back. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said, “Madame Pomfrey can fix it, Harry. Hell, she reattached Malfoy’s little package, didn’t she? He’ll be fine.”

“His own father was going to sell him out,” Harry sighed, pulling back his blanket and staring at the four-poster. He was suddenly feeling very tired. “Why me?” He asked.

Then Seamus was at his side, slipping his arm around Harry’s waist and laying his head on his shoulder. Harry shivered as he always did when Seamus touched him. “Because no one else could have done it, ‘Arry,” he explained sincerely, reaching up to take Harry’s specs off and set them on the nightstand. Harry blinked and stared into Seamus’ eyes, then kissed him rather seriously on the mouth.

It was worth it, he thought, feeling the thrill of the boy’s warm flesh against his own, And I’d do it again if I had to! Then he yawned.

“My thoughts ek-zakt-ly,” Darby interrupted in his odd accent, pulling back the blankets on the bed that was usually Dean Thomas’. “It’s a rough trip from there to here.” Then he yawned as well.

They all smiled at him, and despite any other ideas they might have had, the boys all finished stripping off and got into bed. Seamus joined Harry in his four-poster, and Darby – who cited not liking sleeping alone in a strange place – asked Ron to join him in Dean’s bed. They were all asleep almost before their heads hit the pillows.

The boys found, upon awakening around noon and coming back from the showers, that someone had taken and cleaned their clothing. There was also a note on each stack of neatly folded laundry that read “Come to the Great Hall at one o’clock,” in a neat, flowing script. There was no signature.

Harry stared at his note in disbelief, his hand shaking. “I…I dint do anything…” he mumbled, his eyes going wide as he dropped the note. “They cahn’t…I have to go! I have to find him!” He suddenly yelled, dropping his towel and heading for the door. Ron tackled him before he reached it.

“Put yer pants on first, before you go,” he advised, catching the bottle of Potion that Seamus tossed to him. Harry struggled, but Ron held him down firmly. “Listen to me, Harry,” he said softly.

“Ron! We ‘av ter go! They’ll kill him!” Then his eyes went even wide. “No! I killed him! I dint…I couldn’t…” Harry screamed, struggling to toss Ron off of him.

“Wha’s wrong wi’ ‘im?” Darby asked in shock.

“Temporal Dementia,” Seamus explained in a sick tone, “Ever since he went back in Time. Messed ‘im up.”

Harry, however, was becoming hysterical. “I could use a bit ‘o help, here,” Ron called, and Darby obliged him by coming over and slapping Harry across the face – hard.

“What did you do that for?” He demanded, seeming to come back to his senses and grabbing the bottle from Ron’s hand. He took a long drink, and after a moment, his green eyes cleared and he stopped shaking.

Darby shrugged. “Easiest cure fer hysteria there is,” he replied.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized, as Ron let him up.

“Fergit it,” Ron replied, “Let’s get going. We don’ wanna be late!”

They dressed and headed down to the Great Hall as ordered in the note. When they arrived, they found everyone assembled again. The Ministry of Magic, with Fudge in the center seat, was once again at the Teachers’ table. Everyone else, except for the Malfoys, was seated on the left side of the room. Draco was looking healthy again, and Madame Pomfrey was near the aisle and keeping a wary eye on him. They all looked up as the boys entered, nervously making their way down the aisle. “Sit,” Fudge ordered, then paused. “All but you, Potter,” he added. “Approach the bench. This court is about to wrap it up and go home!”

There was a scattering of laughter from everyone, except from the Malfoys - as Harry approached Fudge. The Minister of Magic then held up the long scroll of charges that had been falsely brought against Harry and dropped it. They all clapped as it burst into flame. “Harry Potter,” Fudge announced, “After much investigation and testimony from your friends and others,” he grinned, “All charges against you have been dismissed! You are free to go.” Then he held up the letter that had come from the Office of Temporal Affairs and waved it. “I don’t want to know what that says,” he added, as Harry stepped forward and took it.

He stared at it in wonder. Neatly written on the envelope was the address:

It was followed by the date, which was THAT day and NOT the day that Fudge could have initially received it! He stared at it in wonder, but didn’t open it. He recognized the somewhat messy handwriting and smiled, sticking it in his pocket and nodding at Fudge. “Thank you, sir!” He exclaimed, taking his seat next to the Weasleys as Fudge waved him off.

Then Fudge cleared his throat again, banging his gavel to call for order.

“On the topic of the involvement of the Malfoys in the abduction of Seamus Finnegan,” he then said, and both Lucius and Draco went paler than usual.

“Miss Hermione Granger has raised several valid points in her defense of Harry Potter. However, new evidence has been brought to light. There will be no charges filed against the Malfoys, due to the fact they were the victims, almost as much as the others involved, of a Dark Wizard’s plot for revenge. It is the finding of the Ministry that the Malfoys, especially poor little Draco, were used by another and victimized. They are free to go as well.”

Lucius Malfoy stood up and bowed to Fudge, taking Draco by the hand and turning to leave without saying a word. Everyone could see that his pride was badly wounded, and that he was wondering just how much had been made public about his involvement. He did not look at anyone as he strode up the aisle with the boy in tow. Draco, however, paused when they passed the row where Harry was seated with the Weasleys. Anxious eyes all turned on them, and Dumbledore stood up as Lucius Malfoy was jerked back by Draco stopping.

“Come along, boy,” he said in a low tone.

“One moment, father?” Draco asked.

“Very well,” Lucius agreed.

“H-harry, Seamus,” Draco said politely, and both of them were shocked to see him offer his hand. Harry recalled when he’d first met Malfoy the previous year, their first night at Hogwart’s, and how he’d spurned Malfoy’s offer of friendship. Harry and Seamus both looked at him, puzzled. “Madame Pomfrey said that if it weren’t for you two, I might have … have bled to death last night,” he explained, looking up fearfully at his father. Lucius Malfoy, surprisingly, nodded to him.

“I…I just wanted to say thanks,” he finished, starting to pull his hand back and go.

Then Harry reached out and caught it, and Draco gasped in surprise. He gripped the pale boy’s hand firmly, and shook it once. “Clean bill of health, then?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded. His gray eyes were a bit wild, though. “’s’a’right,” Harry said with a grin, “You’d have done the same for me.”

But Draco didn’t answer him. He bit his bottom lip and frowned, as if panicking on an important exam for which he’d not studied. Harry thought that he looked as if he were about to cry, and let go of his hand. Lucius Malfoy then jerked on his son’s other hand, and Draco turned away to go before he was dragged off. He looked back over his shoulder once, though, and then they were gone with a great slam of the doors.

Ron snorted in disgust, and Seamus whispered, “No, ‘e wuln’t’v done the same fer ya, an’ we both know it.”

“I dunno,” Harry replied, as Fudge’s gavel slammed down on the table and the Ministry stood up.

“Court is adjourned fer wha’s left of the summer,” Fudge cried, “Now get out!”

There was a great cheer, from the Ministry members as well, and everyone felt the need to touch Harry. He was hugged, had his cheeks pinched, his back patted, and his hair tussled until he was quite dizzy. Finally, he was scooped up and tossed high into the air by Hagrid. The huge man caught him, of course, and spun him around in a near bone-breaking hug. His eyes were full of tears as he kissed Harry’s cheek, setting him down on his feet again and sniffing.

Everyone was talking at once, but Hermione made her way through and tugged on Harry’s sleeve. “I have to get going, Harry, but I’ll meet you in Diagon Alley in a few weeks. Write me?” She asked, then pecked him on the cheek and whirled around to go.

”Thanks, Hermione, fer defendin’ me!” Harry called after her, “An’ fer figgurin’ it all out!”

“Thank you, Harry,” someone then said from behind him, and Harry spun around to see Mr. And Mrs. Finnegan with Seamus between them. Harry’s face flamed. “Thank you for bringing my son back to us,” he said in a choked tone, and then pulled Harry towards them. All three of the Finnegans tried to hug him at once, and Harry was suddenly very jealous of Seamus. His father might have left him once, but he’d come back. The Irish boy had a family, and he was loved. Harry wondered what it must be like. Then the Kearneys were there as well, Mr. Kearney going all to bits at the sight of Darby. Their own little circle seemed complete again, and Harry stepped back as Mrs. Kearney fussed over Darby’s long hair and how he didn’t look like he was eating enough.

“A’right, Harry?” Arthur Weasley asked him, as Mrs. Weasley straightened his clothes and tried in vain to make his hair lay flat.

“Yea,” Harry replied. “Are we going back to The Burrow soon?”

“We are,” Mr. Weasley replied, “Molly will be taking Ron back shortly, and I’ll stay and bring you home later on.”

“Why later?” Harry asked. “Is Ron in trouble? Because if he is, you should punish me, not him. I mean, I…”

But Mr. Weasley held up a hand and Harry shut his mouth. Just then, Madame Pomfrey walked up to them with Professor Dumbledore, who politely shook Harry’s hand and bowed his head slightly. Harry flushed at having the Headmaster bow to him. “You must remain a bit, Harry,” the old man said, as everyone took their leave and filed out of the Hall. Harry watched them all go, and the door closing for the final time sounded somewhat ominous.

“You have The Knife?” Dumbledore asked, and Harry patted his pocket and nodded. “And your Wand, with The Stone?”

Again, Harry nodded. Dumbledore then held out his hand, and Harry gave him The Knife of Klingsor. The old man placed it on the floor with a snort of disgust and stepped back. “The Knife is a Magical object, Harry, heavily Cursed. Not even I have the Power to destroy it, and don’t think I’ve not tried! It is time, however, for YOU to do just that.”

“Destroy it? How?” Harry asked.

“If anyone can destroy it, Harry, you can. If anyone should BE the one to destroy it, it is you. You have Power beyond imagining, Harry. Use it. Like The Stone, The Knife will eventually draw those to it who would seek to use it, for good or for ill. Grimaldi was proof of that, and what he did to Draco Malfoy and nearly to Malcolm Baddock must never happen again.” Then he sighed. “To say nothing of what happened to you and Seamus.”

Harry stared down at The Knife with his teeth gritted. The very sight of it made him angry, and his Wand was warm in his hand. On the hilt, The Stone was glowing that angry red color again. Harry then began to glow as well, the cyan aura of Power blazing up and filling the room with an unearthly light. Still, he stared at it.

It was a vile thing, he thought, The Knife that had spoken to him…wheedling…encouraging him to emasculate himself and join The House of Klingsor which was no more. Harry gripped his Wand tightly, wondering how many boys had fallen victim to it. He thought about Seamus, Grimaldi (with just a bit of regret), and all of the others that he’d never known that had come before him. He thought of them all, and their stolen Manhood and unborn children that would never be. And I am the last Potter, he thought, and suddenly his anger exploded.

The Great Hall shook, dust falling from the enchanted ceiling and the windows rattling as Harry’s Power and passion exploded out the tip of his Wand. Benches toppled over, and a great rushing wind blew the doors back open. And, as Grimaldi had said, no word was needed. Harry’s feelings alone were enough to release his Will, and a shattering blast of cyan and red light poured down his Wand and struck The Knife. It exploded into tiny fragments with what sounded like a scream, and those bits and pieces of shattered metal smoked and dissolved.

When it was gone, there was only a scorch mark on the floor and the lingering smell of burnt meat. Harry slouched, suddenly feeling as if he’d been up for days on end studying for final exams.

“Well done, Harry,” Dumbledore congratulated him. “The Knife of Klingsor is no more. There shall be no more Eunuch Wizards.”

“Good,” the tired boy replied wearily, “I wanna hurry up an’ start fergettin’ it.” Harry didn’t know IF he could do that, though, as his hand moved to his crotch and he gulped.

“Oh, you’ll forget it,” Dumbledore promised him. “In fact, you’ll forget a good many things before you go home to Ron’s for the rest of the summer. There’s still a tiny bit left to enjoy, you know.”

“I…I don’ understand, sir?” Harry asked. “How kin I fergit THAT thing an’ whut it done ter me?”

“Come along now, Potter,” Madame Pomfrey then ordered him, taking him by the arm as Dumbledore took his other. “Ron tells me you had quite a bout of Temporal Dementia this morning.”

“Oh, yea,” Harry mumbled as they made their way up to the Infirmary.

“Well it’s time we cured it,” she replied.

Harry’s eyes lit up and he smiled. “Oh, I forgot about that! The cure!” He said happily. “So I’ll be OK then?! No more Potion?”

“As I said, Harry, you’ll forget more than just The Knife. I’m afraid that’s part of the cure,” Dumbledore told him sadly.

They arrived in the Hospital Wing, and Harry gasped. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were just leading Ron out by the hand. Ron’s eyes were drooped and glassy, and his mouth hung open. He was also drooling a bit. He shuffled by Harry without even seeing him. “Ron?” Harry called after him, but Ron didn’t seem to hear him. Mrs. Weasley smiled back at them and guided Ron on out.

“I’ll see you later, Harry, dear,” she promised. “Arthur will be back for you in a bit.”

Then Harry looked up to see Mr. Finnegan sitting beside a bed. Across from him was Cornelius Fudge. Seamus was lying in that bed, uncovered and naked. He appeared to be asleep, and Harry’s eyes lingered on his smooth crotch. A lump rose in his throat as he looked up to see the man holding his son’s hand and rubbing his hair with the other. His face was very strange, and Harry wondered if he were really ashamed his gelded son or not.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Harry asked, noticing Darby lingering in the windowsill and looking north.

“A simple Memory Charm to make them forget the events of the last week or so,” Dumbledore explained. “Mr. Fudge performed it. They’ll be fine in a few hours. They’ll come to and not recall a thing and go on like none of this ever happened.” His tone, however, made Harry’s skin crawl and he chilled.

“Let me guess,” Harry choked, “It’s not that easy with me, is it?”

Madame Pomfrey shook her head and sighed. “Albus will have to perform the cure, Harry. I am not skilled enough at THAT Charm to do it safely.”

“What?!” Harry squeaked, backing up and shaking his head. “What er yeh gonta do ter me?”

“Oh, Darby, if you would please?” The old man called, and the blonde boy nodded. He jumped down from the windowsill where he’d been sitting with a strange stone bowl next to him. He carefully handed it to Dumbledore, and Harry could just see some kind of odd silver liquid moving around in it.

“A bowl?” Harry asked.

“This is called a Pensieve, Harry,” Dumbledore explained. “It holds thoughts and memories, and is extremely useful when one’s head is just too full of things. You changed Time, Harry,” the old man reminded him, “And you created a Paradox in doing so. Two sets of memories, horrible memories and unbearable feelings of guilt, are spinning around inside your head. That’s the cause of your Temporal Dementia. You don’t know which is which when it hits you, as both sets are equally valid in YOUR mind. The only way to cure you is to remove those memories of the Timeline you erased.”

Harry went pale and stepped back. “B-but Ron and Seamus?” He asked, “They…I mean, you weren’t up here when they…”

“A simple Memory Charm worked for them, dear,” Madame Pomfrey informed him. “They have already forgotten it all. But remember, they didn’t move backwards in Time THREE times either. They also don’t carry the guilt of the deaths of their only friends with them, either.”

Harry was stunned. Somehow, if he understood properly, Dumbledore was going to physically remove his memories of the past week from his head. He swallowed hard and stared at Seamus, but then Darby was at his side. “It’s a’right, Harry,” he reassured him. “Yeh’ll be fine.”

“Wh-whut ‘bout you?” Harry asked. Then a thought occurred to him. “If this works, I …I…won’t remember you, w-will I?”

Darby shook his head sadly, his blonde curls waving. “Seamus will, but it’ll be like yeh never ever met me. I’ll go back ter Master Odin an’ School in the North, an’ Seamus an’ I vill write back an’ forth. He’ll remember I wuz his best friend, and tha’ we jus’ went ter diff’rent Schools is all,” Darby explained in his strangely mixed accent.

Harry looked from Darby to Seamus and back again. He then looked imploringly at Dumbledore and shook his head, his emerald eyes full of tears. “B-but whut ‘bout Seamus?” Harry cried, sitting down heavily on a bed and letting his heavy boots swing back and forth as he stared down at them.

“W-will I f-fergit ‘im too, er will I remember him? Whut about ‘im being a Eunuch, and the Overlook-Me Charm? I…I cahn’t jus’ let yeh…yeh cahn’t take that frum me! Not after whut I did!” Harry choked, not able to face them. “I…I…don’ think I kin live with not … not knowin’…”

“Harry,” Mr. Fudge then said, coming to sit beside him, but not too closely. “I don’t want any more details. We all know that you, well, that you’re very attached to Seamus,” Fudge faltered, his face flushing a bit.

Harry looked up then, and his green eyes were flashing. His cyan aura began to glow again, and he pulled away from Fudge. “Tha’s it, ain’t it?” He snapped, “I kin see it on yer face! You wanna cure me from bein’ gay, don’t’cha?” He yelled, “Yeh cahn’t stand it that I love another boy, not wit me bein’ famous fer whut I done ter Voldemort an’ all, looks bad, don’ it? ‘Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived’, is a fag!…that’d look real bad on yeh, now wouldn’t it?!” Harry cried.

“Harry!” Mr. Finnegan admonished him, and Harry sank back on the bed, miserable and humiliated. He turned his face into the pillow and began to cry. Then Mr. Finnegan was lifting him up, holding him and comforting him as he had so often done for his own son.

“That had to have been the hardest thing you’ll ever do,” Mr. Finnegan told him, wiping his face and smiling at him. “Seamus has been through a great deal, and I’m glad he has someone like you.” Then he sighed. “He’s my first and, so far, only son, Harry. But he’s also a Eunuch. I don’t want him to have to face a lonely life with no one at his side. But look at it like this, Harry: you love him. You may forget that for a time, but you can’t go on like you are, either. True love cannot be killed, Harry, and it never dies.

“Someday you’ll remember how you feel about him. And he’ll always be in the same room with you here. He’ll be sitting next to you in class for the next six years. He’ll be across the table from you at meals, and he’ll be in the stands cheering you on when you chase the Snitch in your Quidditch matches.” He paused, kissed Harry’s tear-stained cheek, and added, “And our door will always be open to you. WE will remember, even if it takes YOU a lifetime to.”

Mr. Finnegan held Harry for a long time while he cried, terrified of what they were going to do to cure him. Part of him wanted to believe Seamus’ father, but another part of him – some part that was, deep down, ashamed of his love that most people would have frowned upon – could not accept it. Finally, he looked up and nodded.

“I’ll be going, Albus,” Fudge then said to Dumbledore, and the old man nodded to him. “Good luck, Harry,” he said on his way out.

“I don’t think he likes me anymore,” Harry whispered.

Dumbledore sighed and sat the Pensieve down. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “Prejudice comes in many forms. Muggles hate Magical folk, race vs. race, men against women, and sadly, hetero- vs. homosexuals. And God forbid, Underage Wizards who love other boys. Perhaps we are not as advanced as we’d like to think.”

“Let’s get it over with,” Harry said sadly, his green eyes lingering on Seamus as he kicked off his heavy boots. Mr. Finnegan helped him to undress and got him settled into bed as Mrs. Finnegan came in with the Kearneys.

“So long, Harry,” Darby told him, “I’m goin’ back wit ‘em fer a bit ‘o a visit, ‘for I ‘av ter go North. I miss ‘em, yeh know.”

Harry smiled wanly at Darby and waved. Mr. Kearney, despite his age, took the boy in his arms and kissed him right under the ear. “Let’s be a’goin’ an’ a’getting’ things ready fer you and Seamus comin’ home!” He cried happily.

“And you,” Mrs. Finnegan informed her husband, “You bring the boy home via Floo, Hagrid will help you, soon as he’s well enough to travel. I’ll be waiting,” she added in a smooth tone. Mr. Finnegan blushed and nodded, and they left. Harry watched them go with a sharp pang of regret.

“It’s time,” Dumbledore informed Harry, drawing his own Wand and Harry’s as well. Very carefully, he slid The Sorcerer’s Stone off of the hilt of Harry’s Wand and tucked into an envelope labeled “Vault 687, Special Deposit, Gringott’s Wizard Bank.” He then picked up the Pensieve and sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed. “This won’t hurt at all,” he promised.

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He felt the tip of the Wand touch his forehead, and it felt like something was squirming around under his skin. His scar itched, but he suddenly couldn’t move. It was as if his head had become disconnected from his body. He tried to open his eyes and watch, but when he did, all he could see were silvery threads falling before him. He felt warm and safe, though, and he was just beginning to drift when he heard someone saying …..

“Do you have the bits?”

“Right here, safe in the purple jar.”

Harry heard an odd hiss, and moaned softly in comfort in his warm bed as his forehead itched and felt funny.

“Feels…odd…” he whimpered, his mouth not wanting to work.

If he could have opened his eyes again, Harry would have seen the silvery strands, much like spider webs, clinging to the tip of Dumbledore’s Wand and being dropped into the Pensieve. One by one, so softly that he didn’t even notice, Harry’s memories of the past horrible week vanished from his Mind. Much like the dreams that fleetingly escape the waking sleeper, he tried to grasp at them and failed.

In his mind’s eye, he was flying on his Nimbus 2000. The Golden Snitch was racing ahead of him, and he was reaching for it. He could hear cheers, and when he looked up as his fingers closed over the golden ball, he saw Seamus Finnegan waving a Gryffindor flag from the stands and screaming maniacally….

“Is it enough?” Someone said.

“150 points,” Harry mumbled.

Someone laughed.

“Yes, well considering the state of his own, I’d say we could borrow some from Harry’s.”

“James Potter WAS hung like a horse,” someone said, but all Harry really heard was the cheers and Lee Jordan shouting, “Gryffindor wins!” through his Magical megaphone.

“He won’t miss an inch then,” a voice said.

“I think it’s working.”

Harry sighed in bliss as he landed his Broomstick. Ron and Hermione, and with them - Seamus … were all running across the Quidditch field to congratulate him for winning the match.

“How’s it going over there, Albus?”

Harry sighed and began to snore, his mind clear and a smile on his smooth face. Other than his lightning bolt scar, only a tiny red spot on his nose announced the imminent arrival of a zit on his flawless face.

“Fine, you?”

“It’s a boy!”

“Same here!”

Harry awoke the next morning, almost wetting the bed in his haste to get up and run to the bathroom. He jerked his boxers down and fought down the usual morning erection, relieving himself with a great splashing sound. He was oddly sore and a bit disoriented, but as he came to his senses, he realized that that was because he was Ron’s house. “Hurry up!” came a pounding on the bathroom door.

“Hang on, Ron,” Harry called back, his boxers tented out as he opened the door and Ron rushed in.

“I don’ feel too hot,” Ron said as he relieved himself.

“I feel funny too,” Harry admitted, scratching at the base of his genitals, which itched terribly. His cock bobbed and twitched, and it felt very strange –stranger than usual – touching them. His balls ached a bit, but he ignored it.

”Boys!” Mrs. Weasley screamed up the staircase, “Get down here and have breakfast! There’s a very put-off owl down here too!”

Ron and Harry charged down the stairs in their shorts, and Hedwig hooted at them and flapped on the back of a chair. Harry grabbed the letter from her and ripped it open, offering her a strip of bacon with his free hand.

“Who’s it from?” Ron asked.

“It’s from Seamus!” Harry cried happily, “We’re invited to his place, Waterville, Ireland, for a belated birthday party! I’ve been waiting all summer to hear back from him! I thought he’d forgotten me!”

After a hasty breakfast, the boys ran upstairs to dress. Ron was ready to go, but Harry was looking puzzled in his black sweatshirt and cargo shorts. He was standing there in his socks, scratching at his crotch and looking annoyed as well.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked.

“I cahn’t find my old sneakers,” Harry replied, scratching at his head with the tip of his Wand and wondering if he should try and Transfigure something into a pair. “And I’ve got a strange urge for a pair of new boots.”