Harry Potter and the Knife of Klingsor, Part 19

Harry’s moments of consciousness over the next few weeks were brief. Heeding Madam Pomfrey’s advice, Hagrid kept him well sedated and immobile as he healed.

The boy would usually wake up to find Hagrid changing his bandages and sponging down his wounds, which was a bit painful, to say the least. He’d then be made to eat a huge meal that filled him to almost bursting. It took a few days to get used to Hagrid’s cooking, but Harry didn’t complain. He was certainly better fed than he’d ever been at Privet Drive, and he filled out some and began to look healthy again. After his meals, Hagrid would gently provide him with a bedpan to relieve himself. Harry had violently protested this at first, but since his legs were locked OPEN with a variant of the Leg-Lock Curse (which he’d seen Neville struggling with last term), he couldn’t get up out of bed at all and he had no choice.

After being fed and sponged down and rebandaged, with his catheter checked as well, Harry would be given about a quarter hour before his next dose of the Draught of Living Death, which would knock him out for the rest of the night, or until later in the evening. If it were morning when he awoke, he would find himself in Hagrid’s arms, usually with the huge man’s beard tickling his neck and face. It was then up to him to down the huge breakfast he’d be served in bed. If it was evening, he’d awaken to find Hagrid bustling about the cabin, doing this and that, waiting for him to awaken so that he could feed him again before putting him back to sleep.

Three weeks of having Hagrid for a nurse, however, went by very quickly. Harry was healing up fast, but Hagrid had still insisted upon another week, ‘just ter make sure’. He was thrilled beyond belief when, one morning at the beginning of the fourth week of his convalescence, Hagrid informed him that he wasn’t going to put him back to sleep.

Harry smiled and wanted to be up immediately, as recovering sick boys usually do when they start to feel better. But he still had the matter of his frozen legs.

“Calm down,” Hagrid informed him, “Poppy’ll be down any minute now to take yer catheter out an’ unlock yer legs. Mind, yer gonta get tired easy, though. You been down fer three weeks, ‘Arry. Don’ expect ter be up an’ off as soon as I turn me back on yeh. ‘Sides, Fluffy may not let yeh out anyway.”

“Fluffy’s a puppy,” Harry countered, still itching to be on his feet and moving about.

“Oh?” Hagrid replied, opening up the door and whistling. Fluffy managed to poke ONE of his heads through the doorway, and his panting blew things all over the cabin as he sniffed for Harry. His tail banged against the ground outside, shaking the cabin.

“Oh my,” Harry whispered, suddenly very afraid to get out of bed after all.

Hagrid laughed. “Don’ worry! Fluffy likes YEH! He wants ter go out and play!”

Harry didn’t want to know what Fluffy’s idea of ‘playing’ was.

Madame Pomfrey arrived a bit later, looking a bit mussed. “That dog, Rubeus,” she said in a dangerous tone, and Hagrid promptly de-Engorged Fluffy again, returning him to normal dog size. She then went over to Harry, who was almost bouncing on the bed in anticipation. “Anxious are we?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry replied, smiling. Anything to get out of bed.

Madam Pomfrey snorted, pulling back the blankets. Harry was naked except for the bandages and the tube coming of his crotch, unless you counted the erroneous watch and the empty silver chain about his neck. He’d felt the need to keep it for some reason, and Hagrid had repaired it with a clasp.

Very carefully, Madame Pomfrey removed the gauze, revealing healthy, pink skin with only minimal scarring where Harry’s boyhood had once been. She then tapped the tube with her Wand, and Harry felt something deflating inside of him. He squirmed as the tube slid out of him, not sure if he had to pee or not. He clenched up, just in case, staring in wonder at himself.

There was not a trace left between his legs that he’d ever been born a boy. There was nothing there but a small hole and new skin. Harry touched it tentatively, gasping as his fingers felt at his new body. Strange sensations he’d never known before spread up through him, and he felt like what was an erection was forming. He stared down with his mouth hanging open, and breathed, “Wow.”

And then he saw it. Right there on his inner left thigh was what looked like a dark red tattoo of a Mobius Strip, the symbol for ‘Infinity’. It looked just like Seamus’ Mark.

“Wow,” Harry said again, touching it.

“Wow, indeed,” she said, unlocking his legs and patting his head. “There. Now try and stay out of trouble!” And with that, she left. “You did a fine nursing job, Hagrid,” she said on her way out the door.

“How’s it feel, Harry?” Hagrid asked in a low voice.

“I…I’m not sure,” Harry replied, touching himself again and holding out his hand as if to grasp his missing cock. “It’s…odd. I think it’s still there, but…but it’s…gone!”

“Tha’s called ‘phantom pain’, Harry,” the huge man told him, “Those who lose an arm er leg feel it too, like it’s still there, even tho it’s gone. Ye’ll get used ter it, I think.”

Harry sat up slowly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His left one still ached a bit, but nothing like it had. He stood up, and then promptly sat right back down as a wave of dizziness overtook him. He looked up at Hagrid, confused.

“Yeh’ve done nothin’ but eat and sleep and lay there fer three weeks, ‘Arry. Don’ push it. Take it slow and easy,” he told him, offering him a hand and steadying him as Harry got to his feet again. He blinked, and Hagrid handed him his specs. He took a few small steps as Hagrid guided him to the table, and Harry was very surprised to find himself worn out from the short little walk. He felt as though he’d just played a hard-fought game of Quidditch.

That, and walking felt totally different! It was odd, Harry soon realized, being a eunuch. There was nothing down there to rub, shift, or get in his way when he moved. He hadn’t realized how distracting being a boy had been for all of his life.

Hagrid then brought him a small bathrobe, and helped him into it, citing the need to keep him warm. He then brought him a large plate full of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, and some kind of side dish that Harry wasn’t entirely sure about. “Oh, gods, Hagrid, is the pig an endangered species now?” He asked in surprise. All in all, it was enough to feed most of Gryffindor House, Harry thought. He sipped at his milk, one hand still lingering between his legs.

“Regrets?” Hagrid asked, joining him at the table and watching him pick at his food.

“No,” Harry replied quickly, biting into a sausage with a violent snap of his teeth.

“Yeh say that now,” Hagrid prompted him.

Harry sighed and took another drink of his milk, staring down at the plate of food that he was sure was going to defeat him. “Hagrid,” he said in quavering voice, as the enormity of his castration hit him in one solid jolt, “Do…do you think I was…that I did…the right thing?”

“If’n I’d thought yeh’d regret it fer more than a few hours, I’d ‘av stopped yeh,” Hagrid replied, refilling his plate and telling Harry to eat – ‘how was he going to grow if he didn’t eat’? Never mind the fact that all he’d done for three weeks WAS to eat and sleep.

“I’ll never have kids, Hagrid,” Harry said flatly. “I was the last Potter. I guess I’ll never … never have … never get to wank again either, will I?” And then another thought came to him, but instead of making him feel bad, it bucked him up. It gave him strength, and Harry held his head up. “I won’t get to make Seamus have an orgasm, but then as long as I get him back OK, I guess I don’t need to!”

“Isn’t that WHY yeh did it in the first place?” Hagrid asked.

Harry smiled at him, snapping up another bite of eggs. “I guess there might be a way though,” he said with his mouth full.

“Eh, there’s plenty ‘o boys in Gryffindor House with nice cocks that’ll help yeh’s out, ‘Arry,” Hagrid mused, “Fred and George come to mind real quick, they do.”

Harry thought about Ron again, and how he’d felt when he had cum after Ron had buggered him into an orgasm. It seemed to stand out in his mind. He hadn’t touched himself then, and he saw no reason why he couldn’t do it again. Smiling, he finished off his breakfast and let Hagrid help him to dress afterwards. They were just on their way out the door, with Fluffy at their heels, when Harry realized that he had to pee. Or thought he did. After being catheterized for so long, it was hard to tell.

He made his way to the toilet on shaky legs and jerked his shorts down and sat. It was the strangest feeling he’d ever had, and Harry gasped when he went. “This is going to take some getting used to,” he grumbled, thinking that it might have been a good idea to at least have left a small stump to shoot his pee with. He found it necessary to blot himself dry with a tissue. When he’d finished, he went outside with Hagrid and Fluffy.

“Now I wan’ yeh to play outside and get some air and sun,” Hagrid told him. “Normally I’d say NO ter goin’ into the Forest, but … yeh’ve got Fluffy and yer Wand. Just tell Fluffy to Engorge if yeh need to, nothin’, and I mean NOTHIN’ is a gonta cross ya with HIM there!”

Harry smiled and, leaning on the large dog when he got tired, spent the rest of the morning roaming the deserted Hogwart’s grounds. He found out that all of the Professors had gone on vacation, and that only Hagrid had remained behind to see to the place. Madam Pomfrey had come in to tend to him, but was off again once he’d healed up. They had the run of the place, all to themselves, and Harry had almost never been so happy in his life.

Even the resident ghosts had gone off somewhere on holiday, and Harry wondered if Nearly Headless Nick – the Ghost of Gryffindor House – had finally been admitted to The Headless Hunt or not.

He encountered his first problem with being a eunuch that night, though. He’d just snuggled up next to Hagrid in bed, exhausted from the day’s adventures, when his green eyes popped back open. He thought about Seamus, and a familiar stirring that felt like something coming to life between his legs aroused him. He reached down and found … nothing. Gasping, he sat up. He touched himself again, but found nothing to grab hold of. Unfortunately for Harry, the hormones hadn’t had time to totally wash out of his young body yet and he was getting horny.

But he also didn’t have any way to relieve those feelings, either.

“A’right, Harry?” Hagrid asked sleepily.

“Yes,” the boy replied, not sure if he was or not. He’d never felt this way before.

Startled and confused, he simply laid there thinking about Seamus and rubbing his smooth crotch. This, however, oly seemed to make matters worse. It was a LONG time before he fell asleep in Hagrid’s warm embrace.

The following few weeks passed by far too quickly for Harry. He spent his days roaming the grounds and the Forest with Fluffy at his side. Early on, when he got tired, he found that Fluffy would let him ride him, much like a pony. It wasn’t a smooth ride, but then again, Harry didn’t have anything down there between his legs to get bothered by all the bouncing either. When he was feeling good, he took to running. He helped Hagrid with his work, and very soon, he not only began to fill out more, but to develop some musculature. Of course, all of the food that was being stuffed down him helped too. Despite the grand meals at Hogwart’s, Harry was never a very hearty eater. Hagrid was very pleased with his recovery.

Harry was pleased as well, to some extent. The first week or two after waking up, he’d had several bouts of horniness. This usually came when he thought about Seamus, which unfortunately, was what occupied his mind the most. He would find himself in the bath, or in bed, or simply wandering about all alone where no one would see him when he would reach down there and gasp when he found nothing to grab. It was extremely frustrating, and for the first week or so, his temper was pretty bad.

Hagrid endured his occasional outbursts without a word, however.

That had passed, however, as the weeks went by and his body ran out of male hormones to fuel his desires. Even Hagrid noticed how calm and quiet he’d become since his emasculation, and he complimented him on it. They had fallen into a routine, Hagrid and Harry.

Every morning, they’d awaken and the huge man would fix a grand breakfast. They’d eat, and then Harry would dress in some old clothes that he’d found in storage at the School. He’d then follow Hagrid about, helping with the chores, dressed in a miniature moleskin overcoat and heavy boots just like Hagrid’s. Had anyone come by, they’d have sworn that Harry was Hagrid’s son as his hair grew out. He even began to talk like Hagrid. Gamekeeping and tending the grounds was hard work, but Harry didn’t complain. The company more than made up for it, and it kept his mind off of Voldemort and the Malfoys.

With most of the work done by lunchtime, the afternoons were left free to Harry. He spent them with the dogs, usually, roaming the grounds and pushing his luck with the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest. He even once met up with Firenze, the Centaur who’d saved him the previous year from Voldemort when Harry had been serving a detention with Hagrid and some others in the Forest. He’d gotten ‘home’ late that night, but Hagrid had been so very interested in hearing about how the Centaur community was getting on that he’d forgotten to lecture the boy about straying.

The evenings were spent preparing supper, which usually filled Harry to bursting. After cleaning up, Harry would usually end up in the enormous chair with Hagrid, in front of the fire (summer or not, Hagrid kept a fire). Having settled down and into better study habits, Harry had taken to raiding the Library. It was hard to tell who learned more – Hagrid or Harry, with Hagrid having been expelled from Hogwart’s long ago.

And then would come the evening bath. Hagrid himself was not too keen on the idea of daily bathing, even considering it to be probably unhealthy. He did, however, make sure that his young charge was scrubbed clean every night. By then it was bedtime, which at first had given Harry some cause for alarm. He’d just as soon have slept on the divan, but Hagrid insisting on keeping him in his own bed with him. Nothing had ever happened, though, as Hagrid had kept true to his word that he’d never hurt him.

This didn’t keep Harry from dreaming, though, and many a night he woke up trembling in the throes of frustrated wet dreams as his emasculated little body purged itself of what small amount of buildup he had left inside. It didn’t take long for these to stop, but Hagrid’s affections seemed endless. It seemed to be enough to just be close to him, and Hagrid never mentioned anything else to him.

“Yer spending a lot ‘o time at night readin’,” He told him one evening, as they sat by the fireplace, Hagrid in his recliner, and Harry using Fluffy for a pillow.

Harry looked up from his copy of Fighty Dirty – Dark Arts for Everyone, and smiled. “It’s not like I ‘’av anythin’ better ter do, yeh know,” he grinned, rubbing the flat front of his shorts. Hagrid grinned and shook his head, going back to his newspaper.

Harry’s second summer holiday ended all too soon. In fact, he’d slept through most it after his encounter with The Knife of Klingsor. He awoke one morning and checked the calendar. It was just a day before the full moon, and he knew that his other self, along with Ron and Darby, were Flooing to Diagon Alley to shop and get his Nimbus 2000 fixed. He sighed and went to wash up before breakfast, wondering how many chickens and pigs he’d sent to their deaths that morning as Hagrid’s cooking was filling the cabin with delicious aromas.

He paused, standing naked in the window, watching the sun come up. “We’ll be getting’ up any second now,” he said.

“Wha’?” Hagrid muttered, turning around with a gasp. He stared, recognition coming to his beady, black eyes as he sighed a heavy sigh.

Harry Potter was no long a little boy.

He’d grown so fast that summer, and he’d put on weight. As he stood there with his back to Hagrid, the big man could see the muscles in his legs shifting. When he moved his arms, he could see the biceps rise and fall. Harry’s stomach was flat as a washboard, but his ribs didn’t show. He’d lost his ‘baby fat’, and the curves of his body were symmetrical and firm, although not overly pronounced. He was solid, and growing up. He was also quite a bit taller, and Hagrid wondered if some of the pain in the boy’s legs didn’t come from ‘growing pains’. Very slowly, Harry turned around to face the man that loved him like a son.

“Terday’s tha day, Hagrid,” he said in a voice that no longer had that piping ‘little boy’ sound to it. It wasn’t a manly baritone, but it wasn’t’ a boyish soprano, either. He sounded sad, and Hagrid couldn’t blame him. By nightfall, he’d be fighting for not only his, but the lives of all of his friends as well.

Again.

“Yeh’ve grown up right before me eyes,” Hagrid sighed, taking Harry in his arms and kissing him, touching him here and there with tenderness. “An’ here I dint even notice. Look at yeh, all taller an’ fillin’ out. I’m proud ‘o yeh, ‘Arry, real proud!”

“Thanks,” Harry replied lamely, his face getting hot. “I don’ know ‘ow much growin’ up I’ll be doin’, though,” he wondered, touching his smooth crotch and flinching when he did. He still wasn’t used to finding nothing there.

“Yeh’ll prob’ly be tall an’ thin, yer dad was,” Hagrid told him firmly.

“My dad wuz a man, too,” Harry replied in a sad tone. “Not a eunuch.”

“None ‘o this, now,” Hagrid told him an even tone. “Yeh made yer decision, yeh did. YOU were the one who decided, Harry. No one forced you,” Hagrid reminded him.

“It’s not that,” Harry replied, looking up into Hagrid’s earnest face. “I jus’ don’ know what’s going ter become o’ me when I grow up. Or Seamus, fer that matter. I mean, I read some about eunuchs. We’ll be tall an’ thin, er maybe get fat. I don’ think either of us is a’gonna grow breasts er turn into a woman, but I’m jus’ scared, is all. An’ no beard, high voices…people are gonta know sum’thin’s wrong, won’ they?”

“Will it matter, how yeh grow up, long as yeh get ‘im back?” Hagrid asked, casting Harry’s hot words that he’d spoken long ago to him back into his face. “Will yeh even care what others think ‘o yeh’s?”

“No,” Harry whispered, suddenly feeling the need to just be held. He was safe here, and he knew it. But he was about to abandon that safety for the unknown. He was going to go back to Ireland. He was going back to fight.

He was going back to win.

“Go wash up,” Hagrid told him, sniffling as he let him down and slapping his bare ass he turned to go. Harry yelped in surprise, grinning.

When they’d eaten, Hagrid lit the fireplace and threw in a handful of Floo powder. Harry stared into the green flames, checking his pockets. Everything was there.

Dressed all in black, he hugged and kissed Hagrid goodbye, promising to bring them all back late that next morning. He said goodbye to Fang and Fluffy, who looked rather depressed. His three heads were drooping as he skulked back to his basket and laid down as Harry put on his black traveling cape.

Hagrid then handed him a hastily wrapped box. “I thought ye’d like these,” he said in a shaky voice, “Seein’ as ‘ow yer sneakers er kinda … shot.”

Harry opened the box. Inside were his old work boots that he’d worn all summer, but they’d been Magically refurbished. They were shining black with high, stiff tops and the soles were a good inch thick of hard rubber. “I put steel in the toes,” Hagrid told him, “So’s yeh can kick the shit outta Malfoy wit’ ‘em!”

Harry laughed and pulled them on. The sheer weight of them was sure to help build up his legs, the left of which was still a bit weak. Yet he’d been wearing them all summer long, and he’d grown used to them. He didn’t think they’d be a problem, and they were certainly a gift from the heart. He suddenly realized what Hagrid had been up to with his Magical umbrella those nights that he’d left him alone to soak in the bath when he was deemed ‘ex-pecially dirty’.

“Thank yeh, fer everythin’, Hagrid,” he said, almost in tears, and hugged the huge man tight. This is what it’s like, Harry believed, This is what being loved by a family feels like!

Then, with Broomstick in hand, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak over his head and vanished. He jumped into the Floo and yelled, “Diagon Alley!” as the fireplace belched ash and soot. Hagrid knew that he was gone, and he sat down in his over-sized chair and went all to pieces.

When he’d recovered himself, a shocking thought came to him. He’d not been going out at night as he’d planned to look for the missing boys! Surely someone else had picked up the slack, even if he KNEW what was going to become of them. It didn’t ease his mind a bit, however, and he went out back to check over his bewitched motorbike. It had been a gift from his friend Sirius Black.

“Somethin’ tells me I better follow ‘im,” he said to himself.

The Floo at The Leaky Cauldron shot a cloud of smoke and ash across the room, but no one seemed to come out of it. Tom, the owner, had just come back down the stairs from talking to Albus Dumbledore about the missing Harry Potter and his cohorts when he noticed it. He looked around, thought he heard the back door slam, but saw no one. He shrugged and went about this business.

Concealed beneath his Invisibility Cloak, Harry headed towards Ollivander’s. His other self and friends would be at Gringotts’ Bank, and he had some time. He pushed the door open, the bell jingled, and Mr. Ollivander came to the counter. He looked around, confused, but then Harry pulled the Cloak off and slammed his cracked Wand down on the counter.

“Fix it,” he demanded in a rude tone, “An’ while yer at it, why don’ ya explain ter me all ‘bout the significance of Seamus’ Finnegan’s Wand an’ the one that Darby O’Gill is gonta buy, an’ why they both have whiskers from the Norse Guard Dogs in ‘em?”

“Harry Potter,” old Ollivander breathed, adjusting his tiny specs and smiling. “I wondered when I’d be seeing you, again, or is it again? My, how you’ve grown. And you’ve picked up an accent, too.” He picked up the holly Wand and shook his head. “Damaged,” he clucked, shaking his head again. “You must have let out one hell of a BANG with it, no?”

“I blew up Voldemort wit’ it,” Harry replied hotly, “Or I WILL blow up Voldemort tonight, depends on where an’ when yeh are.”

“Do not say the name!” Ollivander gasped, pulling out a Wand repair kit and falling to work on the Wand. “You’ve picked up an attitude, as well. Now, what was it you wanted to know about the Norse?” He asked in an interested tone, as Norse mythology was his hobby. Harry already knew this, of course.

“My, er, best friend, Seamus has a Wand wit’ a whisker from Fenris in it. His best friend, Darby, will be in here later. Short little Muggley-lookin’ kid,” Harry explained with an accent that was much like Hagrid’s. “He’ll be chosen by the nearly brother Wand o’ Seamus’, a cedar, cut by The Knife of Klingsor from a sapling growin’ in the lee of The Tree of Life. It has a whisker from Fenrir in it. I want ter know WHY.”

Ollivander smiled. “Curious,” he replied, “More curious than why the holly Wand chose YOU, Mr. Potter. I would imagine that those two, or one of their friends, is going to need to call down great amounts of Power, and very soon. Crossing those Wands, combining them, may be the trick! I’d hate to see what would happen if those Wands came into contact!”

He then handed Harry back his repaired Wand of holly. The crack was gone, and the Wand shone brightly with its new coat of hard polish. The room filled with a warm orange light, and a cool breeze blew through. It ruffled his hair, exposing his scar. Harry gave it a wave, and it shot color-shifting geranium blossoms out the tip. “Tha’s a good sign,” he sighed, “Thank yeh. An’ don’ tell no’un I wuz here. I ‘av work ter do.”

“You mean, work to do again, don’t you, Mr. Potter?” Ollivander asked, smiling, and waving him off. “Go and see old Grimaldi, boy. I think you two should have more of a chat this time. You’re acting like HE used to.”

Harry nodded and left, slipping back into his Cloak and vanishing as he went out he door.

“Amazing boy,” Ollivander breathed when he’d gone, getting out the Wand that would choose Darby for its Master a few moments later.

Grimaldi was just opening up Shoppe as Harry watched himself, Ron and Darby from across the way. They went into Ollivander’s Shoppe, and Harry waited, sitting on a bench in the shade. It was a while before they came back out, and Harry watched them come across the way as Grimaldi was sweeping his step. They went inside, but still Harry waited. When he thought enough time had passed, he stepped in as well and pulled off his Cloak. He stood at the counter and watched as Grimaldi, the last Eunuch Wizard of that age, came out from the back room.

I guess I was the customer that interrupted us, Harry realized, almost grinning.

“Can I help … you…?” He started to say, but then realized to whom he was speaking. “But you…you’re not…you’re in the back with…them,” he stammered, his face going pale. It was obvious that Grimaldi had never seen Time Travel up close and personally as his eyes shifted from Harry to the newspaper on the counter and back again.

“I wuz never here, Grimaldi,” Harry snapped at him. “I need fer yeh to tell ‘em everything ‘bout you, yehr past, yehr castration, The Knife of Klingsor, all of it! They need ter know, an’ I need ter know sum’it, too. Tell me, an’ I’ll leave.”

Grimaldi nodded. “But what can an old Wizard like me tell you that’s so important?” He asked.

Harry simply opened his black cloak, dropped his shorts and showed him.

“NO!” Grimaldi breathed, “Not another one! There cahn’t be two at once! Not with Finnegan still alive!”

“Exactly,” Harry replied, hiking his shorts back up. “An’ I mean er KEEP ‘im that way. I need ter know whut happens if’n two ‘o us come in’tuh contact. Whut kind o’ Power er we talkin’?”

Grimaldi thought for a moment, his plump face very pale.

“Power to die for,” he breathed, “Power that CANNOT be stopped – by anyone!”

“Tha’s all I needed ter hear,” Harry replied, throwing the Cloak back over his head and vanishing. “I was never here, got it?”

Grimaldi sighed heavily. “MY days of fooling with such matters are long past, Mr. Potter, my battles all won,” he replied in a sad voice. “I hope that whatever you’re doing turns out as you wish. Dare I say you’re going after the Finnegan boy?”

“Yes,” came Harry’s voice from nowhere as the door opened and slammed.

“Then find him,” Grimaldi whispered, “Find him before it’s too late - again. Let not YOUR castration have been in vain, like so many I’ve seen.”

And then he went back to the storeroom, to finish telling HIS Harry Potter – or whom he believed to be Harry Potter – and his friends about his days at the Conservatorio, the boy he’d loved back then, and later, Hogwart’s.

Harry then decided to take a risk. He was hot and thirsty, and Florean Fortescu’s Ice Cream Parlor was simply too much to pass up. He slipped over to the counter, no one was there, and he rang for service as he pulled his Cloak off. He was helped by a young girl, obviously working a summer job, who didn’t recognize him. She served him a large shake with a dollop of ice cream floating on top of it, and Harry paid her and began to drink it, vanishing behind a tree under his Cloak to sit at a table in the shade. It was beginning to get warm out outside, and his Cloak was getting hot. His legs ached from the heavy boots, but he felt surprisingly good.

He sat, sipping his shake, waiting for the trio to leave Grimaldi’s and head for Quality Quidditch Supply. He was just finishing it when he saw them come out of Grimaldi’s Shoppe and head across the way again.

Once more he waited, thinking about Oliver Wood. This, of course, made Harry a bit befuddled and distracted. Had he not been so calmed down already, he’d have probably had to have gone off and wanked somewhere! And although he’d not had a bout of desire in a long time, Harry suddenly found himself touching himself down there and sighing in sudden regret.

Wood had never touched him there, not that he knew of, and Harry was suddenly concerned that Wood would find out about his emasculation. Harry was worrying that if he did, that he might be frightened by – or worse yet – disgusted by it and reject him. His mind began to run away with him as he began to tremble, his anxiety increasing every minute.

And then he saw Ron and Darby come back out the front door. He knew that they’d left his very upset former self alone with Wood, and that Wood was trying to comfort him as best he knew how. He smiled at that memory, wishing that ‘he’ could repeat it again. It did, however, give him more incentive to succeed in recovering Seamus. If he went back to School unharmed and happy, then he’d no doubt be playing Quidditch all season long with Wood!

“Shit!” He swore to himself, getting up and heading for the door of Quality Quidditch Supply with his mind racing. “I’ve got jus’ a bit, not long before I see ‘im! I’ve got ter settle down!”

Then, amazingly, Harry Potter did just that. As he walked across the street, his mind settled and his anxiety vanished as an eerie calm swept over him. He waited outside for a bit longer, breathing deeply, and then went inside.

Oliver was just getting back to working on Harry’s formerly damaged Nimbus 2000. He went back into the back room to check on former-Harry, who was napping. Wood then came back out of the stock room again and said, “Hi, kin I help ya?”

Harry pulled of his Cloak and stepped out from behind a rack of Broomsticks. “As a matter of fact you can,” he said, as the Nimbus 2000 in Wood’s hands began to tremble and his jaw dropped.

Wood made a few strangled sounds, but he knew very well to whom he was trying to speak. Standing before him, dressed all in black, was his Quidditch Seeker!

But this Harry Potter was taller than he recalled. He was also heavier, meatier, and his emerald eyes were glittering not with mischief or fun, but with malice and determination. Wood gasped and swallowed hard, setting the Nimbus 2000 down and staring at the same Broomstick that bigger-Harry held in his rough looking hand.

“H-har-r-ry?” Oliver managed.

“Yes, Wood, iz me. A later me. Tha’s really your Harry Potter sleepin’ back there, in disguise.”

“How?” Wood breathed, still shocked, but coming around the counter to get a closer look. He touched Harry then, almost looking as if he’d thought his hand would pass right through him.

“I cahn’t say,” Harry replied, staring into Wood’s earnest face and catching his breath. He was calm, though, and he wasn’t even surprised. “But iz me, Oliver. An’ I need yer help.”

“You sound like Hagrid,” Wood said in his thick Scottish accent. Harry smiled.

“Spent sum time wit’ ‘im, I did,” Harry replied, “Getting’ ready. Wood, yeh know whut THAT Harry is up to, no?”

Wood nodded. “Should I turn ‘im in?”

“No,” Harry retorted quickly. “You’ll shatter the Timeline if’n yeh do, I think. I dunno. But ‘e ‘as ter be in Ireland tonight, Wood. Voldemort iz a’gonta be there, wit’ Seamus – an’ I plan ter get ‘im back this time.”

Wood looked as if he’d just swallowed Poison. His face went pale, and he grabbed Harry by the shoulders. “HIM?! How? Why?”

“Please don’ ask me, Oliver. I jus’ need ter make sure yeh give me – that me back there – some tips and a few Spells. He’ll be needin’ a Trackin’ Spell … an’ … an’ some’un ter be flying over Waterville, Ireland tonight, waitin’. Near Midnight. I think we may be needin’ a ride back.”

Wood grinned at him, suddenly seeming to come alive. “Ya need someone to come swoopin’ down an’ pick ya up?” He asked in voice full of enthusiasm.

Harry nodded. “The Nimbus 2000 cahn’t take ALL of us, yeh know.”

“I’ll be there, Harry, I promise! Anythin’ else?” Wood told him, finally giving in and hugging him. It felt extremely good right then. Wood then kissed his forehead, just as Harry recalled him doing the last time, and finally smiled.

“Kiss HIM goodbye, too, Oliver,” he said in a shaky voice. “He needs it.”

Then, seemingly with everything that he needed: his Wand repaired, advice from Grimaldi, a ride back with Oliver Wood, and having set up everything that had – from his perspective – already happened, Harry turned to go. Wood watched him closely, and then called out, “Hey?”

Harry turned back around, just getting ready to throw his Cloak back over his head and vanish again. “Yea?”

“Wha’s gonna happen to him (Wood jerked a thumb over his shoulder indicating the smaller Harry back in the shop) when he leaves here, tonight I mean?”

“If I don’ screw up again, nothin’,” Harry replied, as the Invisibility Cloak hid him and he made his way back to The Leaky Cauldron to use the Floo again.

He popped out of the Floo at Seamus’ house and immediately fled. He had no desire to risk running into his other Time-tripping self, or anyone else for that matter. Keeping his Cloak on, he mounted his Nimbus 2000 and took of for the cemetery with his teeth clenched. If he could have seen his hands, he would have seen the knuckles white as they gripped the Broomstick.

He didn’t need a Tracking Spell this time. Almost as if the Broomstick remembered the way, he soon found himself descending. He hovered just a bit below the old ash tree, then took up residence on a high limb to wait.

He was just settling in when a noise grabbed his attention. Harry looked down to see a large black Rolls limousine parked beside the old abandoned church, and Draco Malfoy was pacing around it. Harry gritted his teeth, keeping quite. It wasn’t time yet. He had to wait.

And wait he did, with his emerald eyes fixed upon Seamus Finnegan – who was tied to a tall gravestone and seemingly unconscious. With his heart hammering in his ears, Harry Potter waited, wondering, as the light slowly fled the sky.

I’m almost here, again … he thought, We’ll be here soon, Seamus. We’ll be here, and this time, it’s going to be different!

A huge black shape was passing in front of the moon, someone very large riding something that wasn’t a Broomstick. It was so large, in fact, that it cast a weak shadow over them in the moonlight. Harry knew the noise that it was making sounded very familiar, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Hagrid had indeed been at Seamus’ house once again. He’d disrupted the Timeline by staying with Hagrid for so long, he knew. Instead of being out searching for the missing boys, Hagrid had stayed home to help him convalesce from his castration. As the huge figure passed into the dark sky, Harry smiled. Two smaller shapes then followed it - Broomsticks with riders, their cloaks flapping out behind them. It was changing course from what he remembered the last time! Still, he sat high in the ash tree and watched, hardly daring to breath.

Not far away, Former-Harry nodded and mounted his Nimbus 2000. “I’ll fly over the place and call back down to you,” he advised them. “Once we know what’s there, once we know where he is, we’ll go in after him.” Then he paused, listening to the night chorus. “It’s probably going to get ugly, guys. Whoever took him isn’t going to want to give him back without a fight.”

Ron cracked his knuckles again. “I HOPE so!”

“Tha’s Malfoy’s Rolls,” Ron’s voice called back over the little yellow radio. “See if Hedwig has to go! She can bird-bomb the glass!”

Harry and Hedwig BOTH ignored that as Harry descended for a closer look. He peered out around the edge of a large ash tree, gazing down row after row of gravestones. There were angels, lambs, crosses, folded hands, and several other icons all carved in stone; most of them showed signs of wear, and dead flowers and assorted weeds adorned most of their edges in uncut lawn. Harry was just scanning down a row of stones near the center when his heart nearly stopped.

From his perch high above, Present-Harry stared down at his former self, who was hovering and peeking out from around the ash tree. It was unnerving, and he shuddered.

There, wrapped from neck to toes in ropes and tied to a tall stone was Seamus Finnegan. He was tied in a standing position, and his head was lolled over to one side. Slumped against the thick ropes that held him, it appeared that he’d fallen asleep. Harry hovered in closer, his palms sweating and his limbs trembling. He quickly undid his Wand from the Broomstick handle and stuffed the briefs in his pocket. He clenched the Wand tightly, ready to dive in, but then realized that he needed another hand. He called down to Ron on the radio. “I see him!”

“Is he OK?” Darby called back anxiously.

“He’s tied to a tall stone in the center of the place,” Harry reported, moving in closer, slowly, quietly. Then he gasped. There on Seamus’ face was a large red handprint. “They’ve been beating him!” Harry cried, his ears suddenly filled with a ringing sound and his blood seeming to boil in his veins. Pure unadulterated rage filled him, and he keyed the radio again. “I cahn’t see anyone else, but there’s light in the church,” he snarled. “You two get ready to cover me, I’m going in!”

Present-Harry, hidden beneath his Cloak, dropped to the ground behind him and prepared to follow. Land, he thought, anxious to set his plan in action.

“Got it,” Ron agreed, stuffing the radio into his pocket and moving on the bewitched bike to take up a position on small downward slope overlooking the church’s only door. Darby moved off to the side, positioning himself to come in from the rear of the black Rolls. They both looked up, but neither of them could see Harry in the gathering darkness as a thin wisp of cloud passed in front of the moon.

“I wish I’d brought my Invisibility Cloak,” Harry grumbled to himself, shaking in anger as he moved his Broomstick closer. Then he realized something, and he smiled. He grabbed up the radio again as he touched back down in the shade of the ash tree.

Behind him, Present-Harry grinned, hidden beneath his Cloak. Had it not been for Former-Harry’s disguise, he wasn’t sure if the surprise would have made him fall out of his tree or not!

“Ron,” Former-Harry whispered, “I have an idea! We look like Muggles, right?”

“Yea?” Ron called back, confused, “So?”

“Malfoy won’t be expecting Muggles to be out this time of night, will he? I mean, he’s a Pureblood snob! What does HE know about Muggles? I’m going to park the Broomstick under this big tree and walk in.”

“Are ya daft?” Ron called back, “He’ll slaughter yeh!”

No, he won’t, Present-Harry thought maliciously.

“Not with the Muggle police and most of the Wizards and Witches in Europe out looking for us, now will he? It’s dark, and whatever Magic gets used here is bound to make noise and light. He won’t take the chance, even if we are way out in the sticks! He won’t want to arouse suspicion, what with the four of us missing already! Even the Muggle newspapers are bound to have got wind of this by now. Besides, they had to have heard that noise when those three flew over a bit ago!”

Present-Harry looked up, listened hard, but heard nothing. His heart sank just a bit. The noise he’d heard was gone.

“Yer right,” Darby agreed, with a brief pop of static. Somehow, he’d gotten his Wand to act like a microphone and interface with the walkie-talkies. “If this Wizard is all yeh say he is, he won’ be lookin’ fer Muggle boys on bikes to show up and mess up his plans. He’ll be waitin’ fer Harry Potter the Wizard to come flyin’ in!”

OH, he don’ know the half ‘o it, Present-Harry wanted to add.

“Exactly,” Harry grinned in the darkness. “I’m going now. Cover me.”

“This kid’s goin’ to be the pride of Gryffindor next term,” Ron said, “Tha’ was bloody brilliant, Darby!”

Ron and Darby fell silent then, watching as Former-Harry slipped out from the trees and crept down the row of gravestones with his invisible Doppelganger at his heels. Hedwig and Vlad circled high overhead, watching, as Harry slipped behind a large marble angel and peeked up over her shoulder.

He was only a few rows away from Seamus.

Harry could see the rough ropes that held him, and clearly made out the handprint on his smooth but dirty face. Seamus appeared to be asleep, or stunned; Harry couldn’t tell.

But he was alive, and that was what mattered!

He slipped past the angel and over to a stone topped in folded hands. His own small hands clasped the stone ones, hoisting himself up to peer about. He was another row closer when he heard Hedwig hoot once. Harry froze, ducking his head behind the stone hands. Someone was coming out of the church!

Present-Harry, breathing hard under his Cloak, took up a position atop the angel and watched. His right hand gripped his Wand firmly.

Former-Harry’s hidden lightning bolt scar, disguised by Mrs. Finnegan’s Magical makeup job, began to burn and sting then, as did Present-Harry’s. He recalled the feeling from his last term at Hogwart’s, and realized that the dark figure in the doorway who seemed to be gliding out into the night could only be Lord Voldemort!

He seemed to be looking this way and that, and both Harrys saw his baleful red eyes glowing from beneath his black hood. He stared down the row of stones where Former-Harry sat, hidden, watching and hardly daring to breath.

Both Harrys swallowed hard, hearts hammering in their throats. He touched his Wand, hidden in one of the deep cargo pockets of his shorts. Just then, Vlad swooped down and buzzed the Dark Wizard. Voldemort jumped back, swearing. “Ruddy bats!” He swore, as another robed figure joined him on the steps.

“They grow them big out here, Lucius,” Voldemort observed, watching the huge bat climb back into the sky.

Malfoy slapped his neck and cursed. “Bats eat bugs, though, my Lord, and there are a great many of them out tonight,” he said in a disgusted voice.

“Yes,” Voldemort mused, “But there’s more out there than bugs, I dare say.” He sniffed at the night air, and Harry’s scar began to hurt worse. He bit his lip and tried not to cry out as the pain stabbed through his head.

Atop the angel stone, Present-Harry winced as well.

“Come inside, my Lord. The boy is exhausted, and it’s not your watch yet. You will tire too soon. Besides, the little Mudblood isn’t going anywhere, and Draco will stop him if he tries!”

Former-Harry flinched, unable to believe what he’d just heard. Draco Malfoy was here as well, and out in the night somewhere, watching?! He leaned against the stone, not daring to key up the radio. This complicates things, he thought, wondering where Draco might be lurking in the rows and rows of gravestones. He watched Mr. Malfoy and Voldemort go back inside the church, unable to make out what they were discussing.

Staring longingly at the unconscious Seamus, Harry fingered his Wand. He was so close! Very cautiously, he crept to another stone and listened hard. He could make out soft footsteps somewhere to his right, behind him, moving then stopping. Moving, then stopping. A few clouds passed over the blazing moon, and both Harrys waited.

“I’m not doin’ it, Charlie!” They then heard Ron’s voice ring out loudly on the far side of the place. “I’m NOT goin’ in there to take nothin’!”

Then there was a small pop of static, and Harry knew that it had to be Darby. “You ‘av ter, Billy!” He challenged in a piping voice, “Tha’s the bet! Go in and steal a flower er somethin’! Prove yeh was in there!”

“I ain’t goin’ in!” Ron cried back.

Harry smiled as Malfoy and Voldemort burst from the church door, and the footsteps in the darkness turned into running sounds. Ron and Darby had created a diversion, drawing them all off in pursuit of what they would surely think were Muggles at play!

“Filthy little vermin!” Malfoy shouted, charging over to his car and looking about. He reached in and pulled out a flashlight, of all things, shining it into the night.

“You kids!” Voldemort called into the darkness, drifting along at the tree line, “We’ll tell your parents, we will!”

Harry tried not to snicker. It was obvious that for all of his evil Powers, the Dark Lord had no clue how to deal with rambunctious boys. He watched as a shorter dark figure came running to his side, assuming it to be Draco.

He then made his move. They were all on the other side of the place, and Former-Harry pulled his Wand. He crawled over to the stone where Seamus was bound and tapped his cheek. Seamus’ eyes popped open, going wide as he stared at the strange boy in front of him with short blonde hair and small, round gold glasses.

“Mmm-phhh-mmm,” he mumbled through his gag.

“Shhhhh,” Harry hissed at him, one hand on his Wand and the other on his radio. He then raised the Wand and Seamus tried to smile at him. Harry moved the Wand slowly down the ropes, each strand snapping as the tip burnt through them. He then pulled the gag, and caught Seamus – dropping his radio – as the last rope snapped. The smaller boy slumped into his arms, and then began scratching all over, mumbling a strangled string of foul curses that made Harry’s ears burn.

From atop the angel gravestone, Present-Harry watched.

In the dim moonlight, he could just make out the itchy bumps all over Seamus’ body that the ropes had caused. Seamus tore his robe open and scratched, obviously in bliss at being able to move again. Both Harrys’ eyes wandered up and down his frame, and Former-Harry began to feel an erection building in his shorts as he stared at the young eunuch. He wanted nothing more than to grab the Irish lad and hold him, kiss him, touch him … but there wasn’t time. He grabbed his wrist instead, pointing to the large ash tree.

Present Harry began to feel annoyed and frustrated, his temper rising. He wanted to do the same, realizing with a start that that was ALL that he could do.

“Who ‘er you?” Seamus whispered, still scratching at his ribs.

“C’mon,” Former-Harry snapped back, trembling.

“Ye’ve got’r Wand,” Seamus breathed.

Harry picked up the radio and pulled on Seamus’ arm. A sound in the darkness sent them both to the ground, and Harry glanced about. “Get ready,” he breathed into the radio.

They laid in the grass for what seemed like hours as Harry listened to the footsteps. He slid closer to Seamus, pulling him close. The dew was cool, and very soon, his clothes were wet. “My Broomstick’s parked under the ash tree,” he whispered in Seamus’ ear, his lips just touching the soft, round lobe. “Did they hurt you?”

“Mr. Malfoy smacked me, an’ I turned me ankle runnin’,” Seamus replied quietly. “But I’m OK. WHO’r you, anyway?”

“Friend of Darby’s,” Harry replied, listening hard. The footsteps had stopped. “Let’s go slowly,” he advised, as they crawled on their bellies towards the tree like army men.

Present-Harry watched them, his hand clutching the last bottle of Elixir of Life. It was almost time, and he could see Draco Malfoy coming, ghosting along the next row of stones. He’d clearly seen Former-Harry crawling off with Seamus.

They had gone about three quarters of the way down the row of stones when Former-Harry suddenly felt a foot in the small of his back and a tap on his shoulder. He heart sank, but Present-Harry’s heart leapt.

“An’ what would you be doin’ out here in the middle of the night?” A cold, high voice asked him, kicking him suddenly in the ribs. Harry rolled to stare up into the gaunt and pinched face of Draco Malfoy. He gasped in shock.

Draco looked like a ghoul in search of a fresh tomb to raid. His pale eyes were wide, and his face colorless and lit unnaturally by the moonlight. His white hair, dry and disheveled, stood out at odd angles. His ferret-like nose was twitching, and his lips were curled in a sneer. “I hate Muggles,” he snapped, pulling his Wand.

There was a THUD sound from somewhere, and then he simply gaped and fell forward, collapsing as if asleep.

Unseen beneath his Cloak, Present-Harry had jumped down from the angel stone, kicking Malfoy in the back of the head with one of his heavy black boots as he fell from his perch. The whole world then seemed to jump sideways as it had at the Kearnys’. He’d changed the Timeline again, and the sensation of clobbering Malfoy almost made him have an orgasm!

Former-Harry reacted instinctively. He shoved Seamus aside and jumped up, Wand blazing in one hand and radio in the other. As he turned his back, Present-Harry tossed the small bottle of Elixir to Seamus and said, “Drink it quick!”

Thinking that HIS Harry had said it, Seamus did so and quivered all over as the Elixir altered his body to near Immortality. He gasped as his own Wand landed at his bare feet, and he snatched it up with a broad grin.

Again, it felt to Present-Harry as if the world had jumped.
YES! he almost screamed from back atop the angel stone that he’d remounted for a better view.

Seamus then rolled behind another large stone, now armed.

He had no idea where his own Wand had come from, but he didn’t really need to know. He was just about to pull his favorite trick again, wondering who had come to save him, when an ear-splitting shout tore through the night.

The door of the old church burst open as Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort came running outside again, with Wands raised. Mr. Malfoy gasped at the sight of a small boy on a bike hurtling down the packed dirt road, picking up an ungodly amount of speed as he went. There seemed to be a stick clenched in his teeth, and he was headed straight for the large, black Rolls and howling like a Banshee!

Voldemort snapped his hooded head around as another cry came from behind the church, and he saw another boy on a bike as well bearing down upon him. He fired a burst of green energy from his Wand, but the boy swerved and he missed. The other boy then cried out again, almost happily, as his front fork hit the sloping edge of the road. Both boy and bike seemed to take flight, and Malfoy groaned. “Not the car!” He moaned, as the small blonde boy on the flying bike touched down smack in the middle of the hood. There was a sickening crunch of metal as the hood caved in.

From their backside, Ron was still approaching on Seamus’ enchanted bike, gathering an impossible amount of speed as he went. Seemingly caught between a rock and a hard place, Voldemort and Malfoy fired again and again at their respective tormenters. Draco and Harry should have been still blasting away at one another as Darby cleared the rolls to land in the gravel, but Draco was still out cold.

Darby then slid the back fork of his bike sideways, raising a huge cloud of dust that choked the Dark Wizards as Ron crashed into Lucius Malfoy’s legs. Ron flew over his handlebars, curling up into a ball and rolling, coming to his feet some five stones down the row with his own Wand blazing. “Eat slugs!” He screamed, firing a greenish/gray bolt of light at them both as Darby peddled out of the way.

Lucius Malfoy doubled over as if with a sudden stomachache, and then he burped. A huge mass of wet, dripping slugs fell from his mouth, and he groaned in pain. He raised his Wand again, wiping at his mouth, but Ron had vanished into the darkness.

Present-Harry bit his lip, trying not to laugh. It was hilarious to see from his high vantage point.

Voldemort took aim at what he thought to be a Muggle boy again; the one who’d crashed into the Rolls, but his Wand was torn from his hand as Vlad dived down out of the sky to seize it in his claws. Voldemort cried out in pain as the claws ripped into his hand as the bat flew off with his Wand.

“These aren’t Muggles!” He hissed angrily, nursing his wounded hand, as Seamus grabbed a piece of a broken gravestone and chucked it at him. The stone sailed like a fast-pitched baseball over the lawn, true to its mark. It hit the side of his head, and Draco flinched in his stupor as Voldemort went down bleeding.

“’E’s getting solid again,” Seamus warned.

But he wasn’t, not really. Voldemort was panting as if he were weakening from the efforts, and Present-Harry knew why. Draco Malfoy, his power supply, was out cold and just a bit too far away from him. Seizing upon the chaos, Present-Harry jumped down and dragged Draco around behind the ash tree to safety while no one was looking.

I cahn’t believe I’m doin’ this, he complained to himself, dropping Draco and heading back to his former self and Seamus while resisting the urge to kick Draco again just for good measure.

Former-Harry took the opportunity to introduce himself then, as Ron and Darby fired randomly from the darkness at Malfoy and Voldemort. Malfoy was still barfing up slugs, and Lord Voldemort was bleeding profusely – and disarmed. Both were knocked down as great chunks of earth were blasted out from under them. They seemed confused as Ron and Darby both vanished into the night again.

“You know me, Seamus,” Harry told him, “I came for you!” Both Harry Potters said in tandem. It had a weird stereo effect, and they all gasped.

Seamus’ eyes went wide as he picked up another fragment of gravestone and nodded, smiling a smile that nearly split his face. His teeth flashed in the moonlight, and both Harrys wanted nothing more than to plant his own mouth over that smile. “Wonderin’ when ye’d show up, ‘Arry!” Seamus crowed in delight.

Then a shrill cry cut the night. Harry looked up to see Hedwig diving down out of the sky, her beak wide open and talons at the ready. She was veering hard, changing course, and closing on Lucius Malfoy. She struck as Seamus took aim at him as well and shouted “Expelliarmus!” Hedwig veered off, clicking her beak as Malfoy’s Wand flew out of his hand.

“Accio!” Voldemort snapped, and Malfoy’s Wand flew to his outstretched hand.

“Damn you, Draco, where ARE you?” Lucius Malfoy screamed. But Draco didn’t answer.

”Take that!” Seamus snapped, as a gust of cold wind swept over the scene and the Irish lad blew another chunk of ground out from them. Both Harrys looked up, scars burning, to see The Dark Lord rising up above the broken turf. He’d taken up Malfoy’s Wand, and he seemed to be growing larger, closer, the sudden wind whipping at his black robes to reveal only a smoky half form of a man.

Ron and Darby came slipping up behind them, panting, as Draco lay in the grass behind the ash tree with a large bump forming up on the back of his head. Vlad swooped down to land on Darby’s shoulder, as did Hedwig upon Former-Harry’s. They all stared, open mouthed, as the Dark Lord rose up like some hideous nightmare.

“Oh, shit,” Seamus said aloud.

“I am DONE playing games, children,” he spat, waving the Wand at them. “Give me back the Eunuch Wizard, and I will erase your memory of this night and send you all home, unharmed,” he told them all. “Or, since you are not what you appear to be, stay and fight me. Or better yet, JOIN me! The choice is yours.”

Former-Harry Potter stepped forward, his holly Wand raised before him, spitting white and blue sparks in front of him.

And then Present-Harry cleared his throat. He pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, and the three boys behind his former self stared at him in awe and recognition.

“Keep quiet,” he whispered, pushing his hair aside to show them his scar. Ron smiled. “The geranium is blooming, and I sneezed,” he added, and Seamus grinned as Darby just stared in wonder.

“Two of ‘em?” He squeaked.

“Doppelganger Spell?” Seamus asked, but Present-Harry shook his head.

“Oh shit!” Ron exclaimed, “Where’s Draco?”

“Knocked out cold behind the tree,” Present-Harry replied, grinning. “I kicked him in the head. That’s going to fuck up Voldemort bad!”

“Yes!” Ron exulted. “Boot to the head! Wicked!”

Present-Harry grinned at him, recalling only too well the agony he’d felt when he’d buried him … then … only a few stones down the row. Ron was alive, and he was going to stay that way!

“Voldemort’s been feeding off of his Powers,” Seamus then supplied, in reference to Draco, “They’ve been using him to restore the Dark Lord until they could do something to ME, but it had to be done tomorrow night with me!”

“Voldemort was going to take you over like he did Professor Quirrell,” Present-Harry informed him, making sure that he knew it. Seamus gulped.

Silence fell over the churchyard as they all stared. The world jumped sideways under Present-Harry’s feet again as the Timeline shifted once more.

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” Darby squeaked. “You’ve doubled!” He was glancing from one Harry to the other, not quite getting it.

Then both Harrys suddenly felt sick to the stomach. No one, not even Mr. Malfoy or Voldemort moved. They all seemed transfixed, staring at one another as Time caught up with them all again. It was almost as if Seamus had done his trick again, but he hadn’t. It seemed as if Time had hiccoughed.

Former-Harry hadn’t turned around yet, though. He was too entertained by the sight of Mr. Malfoy puking up slugs as Voldemort watched, too. It had been an excellent distraction on Ron’s part, and Ron was looking very smug about it.

“Wasn’t me,” Seamus stated, watching as well, “Draco was weak,” he continued, his arm slipping around Present-Harry’s ribs to hold him. “They hurt him, bad. Sucked him dry, almost. You did him a kindness, knockin’ ‘im out,” the Irish lad said softly. “They’d have killed him to get to me, an’ I’d have thrashed him if I could’ve!”

“But he’s alive,” Present-Harry replied. “That’s part of what I have to do here.”

The wind was picking up again, though, and one word cut the night – ACCIO WAND! Voldemort cried again, and they all spun around to see Mr. Malfoy raising his hand as well as the Wand flew out of Vlad’s mouth and back to its master. They switched Wands then; Malfoy aimed his Wand at them, apparently over his attack of barfing slugs. Voldemort did the same.

“Who are you to do this?” He asked in a cold and hissing voice. “Who dares challenge the Dark Lord?”

Both Harrys, suddenly overcome by what he’d done and how angry they were, stepped forward. “I do,” he snapped, aiming his Wand at Voldemort and Malfoy. “And I do,” Present-Harry added, stalking up to stand beside his former self.

With a spring in his stride and his heavy boots thudding on the ground, Present-Harry confronted Voldemort again. The wind whipped at his black traveling cloak, and the hood of his sweatshirt blew up over his head. He raised his Wand, also spitting blue and silver sparks. He stood taller and firm, looking for all intents and purposes like the Grim Reaper arisen to claim another Soul.

“Who are YOU?” Former-Harry asked in pure shock, unsure of how to act when meeting oneself.

“I’m YOU that hopefully never comes to be,” Present-Harry replied. He stared at his smaller disguised self and smiled.

“Before I kill you both, then,” Malfoy snapped back, “I want to know who killed my only son!” Then he paused, wondering what had made him say that as the world seemed to jump beneath Present-Harry’s boots yet again.

“He’s not dead,” Present-Harry informed him. “I saw to that. This time. What you felt just then was ME killing him the first time around. Time has been altered.”

No one was sure of what to say to that. Ron, however, had put it all together. He said nothing, though, amazed at his best friend’s ingenuity and not knowing the half of it. He’d seen confiscated Time-turners before that his father had brought home from work related raids at the Ministry of Magic.

“But YOU would have killed him,” Seamus replied from behind both Harrys, his hands raised. Tiny cyan sparks were flying from the tips of his fingers, and their voices all seemed to echo in the night as if delayed by a fraction of a second. “YOU castrated him, YOU gave him over to Voldemort. You knew that what you had planned would kill him, but Harry stopped you.”

“I didn’t castrate him, not really. I only made it so he wouldn’t be preoccupied with his genitals and waste time playing with himself when he could be spending that time becoming a better Wizard,” Malfoy replied, “I was going to cut him with The Knife of Klingsor later on.”

“No, you won’t,” Present Harry informed him, “Because you don’t have it anymore.”

Malfoy grinned at him. “And what makes you think that?” He asked in an icy tone.

Present-Harry stepped forward, edging past his former self. He raised his head, and the near-full moon reflected in his specs. “Because the YOU that was gonta take it won’ find it now,” he explained. “’cause I a’ready took it. After it cut me, I moved it. In MY past, yeh came to Hogwart’s and took it, Malfoy. But then I went back and used The Knife on myself. Yeh came, but yeh never found it ‘cause I give it to Firenze. Yeh can go and find it in the Forbidden Forest, if’n yeh like. I doubt if he’ll give it back ter yeh, tho’.”

From behind them, Seamus groaned loudly.

Malfoy gaped at him. “No wonder I couldn’t find it!” He roared.

“Oh, gods, no,” Seamus breathed, thinking about The Knife of Klingsor in horror.

“Mental, that one,” Ron commented, waving a finger in circles at his own ear and laughing. “First he had it, then he didn’t.”

“Be that as it may,” Voldemort replied irritably, waving his hand at them as if to say ‘oh go on’, “I could care less about a Knife. I will know who this daring little Muggle is that challenges me alongside the boy that I want so badly to kill! WHO ARE YOU?!” He thundered, silencing the vast night chorus for miles around.

“Revallo!” Present-Harry said in a soft voice, raising his Wand to his own face. In an instant, his hair had grown out to its former state of a black and unruly mess, his glasses went rounder, larger and black, and his scar reappeared. It blazed and stabbed at him, but Harry ignored the pain. Present-Harry stepped closer, his own scar blazing as well.

“Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived,” Voldemort hissed, grinning at him as he pulled his hood down to reveal his nightmare of a face. “I should have known. I’m not surprised that you’ve either played with a Doppelganger Spell, or Time Travel.” Then he paused for a moment, waving a hand at Lucius Malfoy as if to tell him ‘wait’. “Give me back The Boy Who Didn’t Exist, Potters, and we’ll make a deal. Better yet, join me! I can offer you both soooo much!”

Voldemort didn’t seem impressed at the sight of two of them.

“He’s gone bloody mental,” Ron said, stepping up beside Harry and Harry.

“Weasley!” Mr. Malfoy snapped, “Potter’s sidekick. Draco told me all about YOU. Just wait until your father hears about this!” He didn’t seem overly excited about seeing two Harry Potters, either, and they both grew suspicious.

“It takes more than a Doppelganger Spell to frighten a Malfoy,” Lucius sneered at them, having completely missed the point. That or the shift in Time had disoriented him, Present-Harry having just eliminated a huge chunk of his memories.

Ron then cast off his disguise as well, his flaming red hair coming back and his freckles popping back out one by one.

“Blimey,” Seamus breathed, moving closer to Darby, his twisted ankle smarting. “Wha’ else is ‘e gonta come up wit’?”

They all stared at one another for a bit, Wands aimed and ready. The small group of boy Wizards then pushed Seamus to the rear, forming up in front of him protectively.

“I’m waiting, Potter, or rather, PotterS,” Voldemort said in a sweet voice, wheedling, and Harry could feel the Power of his Mind trying to overtake him.

“Fuck you!” Both Harrys snapped in stereo, letting loose a blast of energy from each of their Wands that shoved them backwards into Ron and Darby and Seamus. Hedwig and Vlad took flight again as they all stumbled, landing in a heap as the blasts hit the Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy head on. Voldemort seemed to turn to smoke and come apart, and Malfoy was blasted backward to slam into the church wall with a shower of old siding and shingles cascading down upon him.

Somewhere in the distance, Present-Harry heard that familiar rumble again and laughed aloud. He knew very well who it was! He also knew who was riding ONE of the Broomsticks that was following him.

But Voldemort was slowly reforming as Malfoy got up, dazed. The Dark Lord moved closer, and all four young Wizards cut loose on him with everything that they could muster. Blasts of energy in all colors of the rainbow issued forth from their Wands. Voldemort, naturally, coalesced just enough to pick up his own Wand again and fire back as the group scattered behind gravestones.

This time, however, he groaned and went down. The fact that Present-Harry’s Wild Powers were in the mix this time had obviously hurt him. Realizing this, Present-Harry pulled on his Invisibility Cloak again and vanished as they all scattered.

The wind began to howl as the Powers were let loose in all directions. Boys ran here and there between the rows of headstones, firing at the Dark Lord and Malfoy. Hedwig and Vlad dived in and out, tearing at the Dark Wizards and retreating back into the sky, drawing blood each time. The air was alive with bursts of Power, so charged it was, that their hair was all standing on end. So many Curses were being spoken that no one could tell what was being thrown at whom, and Former-Harry felt his hair singed as a yellow blast hurled over the angel-shaped stone behind which he was hiding. It blasted the head off, and Present-Harry popped up, his head replacing the angel’s, just long enough to fire back and duck back down.

Being invisible, though, it lost some of the effect. What did not lose any effect was his Power. The blast tore through Voldemort, ripping his robes, and he screamed in pain.

Thunder rolled somewhere overhead, and the clouds began to race in and boil. The moon grew dimmer, and lightning began to flash high in the sky as nature began to give way to the Powers slashing at the very air as tombstones and turf exploded all around them. They all heard one word over the cacophony, and it cried out, “Imperio!”

“Oh no!” He breathed as he saw Ron roll out from behind a gravestone and get to his feet. He had a dumb grin on his face, and he was walking right towards Mr. Malfoy, full in the power of the Dark Imperius Curse.

“Ron, NO!” Present-Harry screamed, firing a blast of angry red energy from his overheated Wand. It burned in his hand, and he could hardly hold it. Malfoy sidestepped it, firing back so quickly that Former-Harry didn’t have time to react. He was thrown backwards, almost crashing into a stone in the shape of reclining cherub.

But Present-Harry was there, diving behind him and catching him while shouting the familiar Levitation Spell as he tore his Cloak off. Former-Harry came to rest in his larger self’s arms, and then something very odd happened as a good part of the grievous injuries that Present-Harry had sustained were averted.

Time shifted again as Present-Harry caught himself, just as Seamus Finnegan raised his small hands towards the roiling sky and released a staggering blast of cyan Power upwards into the racing clouds.

This was where he started throwing lightning bolts, Present-Harry remembered, bracing himself.

Two Harry Potters were trying to occupy the same space at the same time. By all Muggle theories of Physics, this could not happen. The Uncertainty Principle dictated this.

Magically, however, it DID happen.

Not only did the world lurch beneath his boots again, but Harry – and Harry – both saw everything freeze up around them. They both looked to Seamus, but the Irish lad had frozen as well. The cyan sparks issuing from his fingertips had also frozen on their path upwards. Staring down at their sizzling Wands, they both spoke at once.

“But I’m…” – “No, I’m…” – “It’s not…” – “Yes it is…” – “It cahn’t be…” – “Yes it can…” – And then together, trembling in fear of the unknown, they said, “Cross Wands with me.” The words came unbidden to their lips, but a brief image of Alessandro Grimaldi flashed in their minds.

Questions by the thousands vanished as the Wands of Holly crossed and the two Harry Potters joined hands. In an instant, Former-Harry knew what had happened … what would NOT happen … but not what WOULD happen. He saw what his other self had lived, how his older self had come back in Time, and how his older-but-younger self had suffered for his failed attempt to rescue Seamus Finnegan. He saw the horrible injuries, felt the dejected failure … he was burying his dead friends … he was at Hogwart’s, mute and crippled … he was in Hagrid’s cabin … he was in Oliver Wood’s bed … his leg hurt … his scar hurt … he had failed … he wanted to die … everyone was dead … and then a man was there, helping him …

“I had to have him,” Former-Harry said.

“So do I,” Present-Harry replied, amazed at the feeling of meeting and touching HIMSELF in the flesh. Were he not so calm and collected, he was sure that he would have panicked.

“I failed,” Present-Harry told him then, “When I was you.” His voice, however, was not that of a little boy. Nor was it the voice of an adolescent in change. It was the deep baritone of a fully grown man, coming from Present-Harry’s mouth.

“Will I cease to exist?” Harry asked.

“Will I cease to exist?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry and Harry replied.

“I failed,” only one replied, but it was impossible to tell which one had said it.

“But not this time,” they both said in unison, triumphantly, as a huge bolt of crackling blue light shot up into the sky from the ONE Wand of Holly that they now held in one hand. Two sets of memories became one, and very suddenly, only one boy stood in that column of crackling blue light.

Bristling in the full aura of Wild Power and totally in control of Himself, Harry Potter – The Boy Who Lived – picked up his Cloak and vanished beneath it, beginning his next advance upon his enemies as Time FINALLY caught up with him for good at long last and everyone snapped back into motion.

Ron was headed right towards Malfoy and Voldemort. “That’s it, boy, come here,” Voldemort cajoled, sidestepping the random blasts from Darby’s Wand and glancing about for a sight of the Potters.

“Darby, no!” Seamus cried, as he ignited the storm overhead and ran towards them with Wand blazing in front of him. Sparks flew from his fingertips as Seamus grabbed ahold of a small piece of Time in front of him, hobbling as fast he could to knock Darby out of the way of a blast of green energy that moved slowly through that area towards them. His injured ankle screamed at him, and tired as he was, Seamus held onto it until he’d knocked Darby down. The burst of green energy speeded up again as it slipped from his ‘grasp’, striking him full in the chest.

Seamus fell backwards as Voldemort, still eyeing the dazed Ron hungrily, fired at him again. “Avada Kedavra!” The Dark Lord shouted, still another burst of the Forbidden Killing Curse headed towards them.

Then Voldemort screamed in fury, realizing that he’d fired The Killing Curse at the boy he most wanted to keep alive as Darby was knocked down by Seamus.

Harry smirked beneath his Cloak, all disorientation gone. He was ONE boy again. He’d given them all the Elixir of Life, and he could feel The Sorcerer’s Stone hot in his pocket. He knew that it wasn’t going to work. Seamus would NOT be killed.

But Voldemort had resorted to fighting dirty, and it was obvious that he planned to kill them all if he could. Harry shook himself as the thunder and lightning crashed overhead, irritated by the burst of Wild Power that he’d let off in his joining with his former younger self in tandem with Seamus’ efforts. The wind was getting colder and stronger, and the very earth was shaking.

The laws of physics had been violated, and they weren’t too happy about it.

Then he raised his restored Wand again. He saw Seamus take the two green fireballs full in the front, falling backwards, and Harry laughed as the Irish lad got back up. He was shaking his head in wonder, and clenching his Wand with a grim smile on his face.

“I’m not dead!” He crowed, firing at the Dark Lord with all he had. Voldemort barely sidestepped it, and a huge gravestone was vaporized as Seamus’ Power hit it.

“Hells Bells!” Darby cried in astonishment.

Harry tore his gaze away from The Boy Who Didn’t Exist and ran at Ron. Voldemort was advancing upon them, and Malfoy was right behind him. “Attentio! Harry cried, and Ron snapped out of the Imperius Curse. He blinked a few times, and then coming to his senses, fired at Malfoy’s backside as he and the Dark Lord looked around for the owner of the voice that had broken the Curse. Harry was safely under his Cloak, though, and they didn’t see him.

“Find Potter!” Voldemort roared in fury, dodging another barrage of youthful Wizard blasts that shattered several more gravestones.

From off in the distance, between rolls of thunder, Harry could hear that rumbling sound growing nearer and nearer.

Lucius Malfoy then took a direct hit from Ron, and was thrown forward to slam headlong into the fender of his Rolls, which knocked him silly. He rolled over and didn’t get back up.

Voldemort, however, afraid that he’d killed the Eunuch Wizard that was so vital to his return to Power, spun and fired back at Ron as both Harry and Darby fired at him. Caught in the crossfire of such Power launched in anger, Voldemort faltered and began to tremble. Without Draco at his side, the boys were wearing him down fast.

His Curse, however, failed to hit its mark. Ron was suddenly knocked sideways as Harry tackled him, sliding out of his Cloak. Voldemort blinked in amazement as the Curse struck Harry’s Wand and he batted it aside much like a Muggle boy would strike a baseball with a bat.

Harry was at Ron’s side, as was Darby, trampling over the fallen Dark Lord in the process. Ron was a bit shocked, his face deathly pale.

“Don’ sneak up on me like that! But thanks,” he added.

Harry turned to see Vlad coming down out of the stormy sky again, as was Hedwig. Lightning flashed overhead, and the wind was turning.

Voldemort, however, did not stay down. Wheezing and smoking, as if trying to form himself back up, he arose. Harry and Ron flanked Darby protectively, Harry’s gaze wandering from Voldemort to Seamus.

“I have … had … enough of … you ALL!” Voldemort gasped, aiming his Wand right at Harry.

Seamus managed to get hold of the blast that he’d planned to launch, for fear of hitting one of his friends. They were simply too close.

“Excuse me,” Darby then piped up, crooking a finger at the Dark Lord and hitting him with his best little boy smile. Amazingly, Voldemort looked down at him.

“What, boy?” He snapped.

Harry knew what was coming, and he grinned.

“So what’s it take to go Bad, my Lord? I think I’d like to be a Dark Wizard, too, sir, like you,” he said. This time, Harry’s jaw didn’t drop at the small boy’s audacity.

Voldemort leaned down closer. “I can always use another servant,” he said in an oily tone, and Darby drew back and punched him full in the mouth. Unprepared, Voldemort dropped his Wand and spit out a tooth. Darby yelped, having obviously hurt his hand.

Harry seized upon the opportunity and jumped up, kicking out with both heavily booted feet. The Dark Lord was knocked over backward as the down-sized Hagrid-style boots struck him, but he came back up, Wand blazing. Again, he shouted the Killing Curse and his Wand erupted in a huge green fireball that burst forth from the tip … and then hung there, motionless.

“STOP!” Harry heard a familiar voice cry out, and his heart leapt. It was the moment, the final MOMENT, that he’d been planning all day long while sitting in the tree.

Advancing upon them, his robe torn open and still smoking, came Seamus Finnegan. The small Irish lad was surrounded by a miasma of cyan light, and his fingers were blazing as he held his small hands out in front of him. Harry looked up to see half-formed bolts of lightning stopped dead in the sky. He stared at Seamus, awed. Voldemort slowly turned his head to stare at the young Eunuch Wizard, seemingly amazed as well. With a great effort, he pulled his Wand from the frozen green fireball and turned towards Seamus.

“Don’t think I won’t kill, you, boy,” he snapped, his red eyes glowing. “I NEED what you’ve got, but I’ll kill you if I must. Surrender, and I’ll spare Potter!”

“You tried to kill Harry Potter twice already, and failed!” Seamus snapped back, raising one hand to the sky. A sizzling bolt of lightning came crashing down, striking the old church’s steeple and blasting it into splinters. “An’ if you knew what HE had, what he’d done to himself, if you knew about the COLOR of the light, you’d run away now!”

“You don’t know what you’ve got,” Voldemort snarled at him. “You don’t know how to use it! But I do!” There was lust in his voice, lust for Power, and Harry could hear it.

Harry sent Darby and Ron back away from the Dark Lord, whose full attention was fixed upon Seamus now. They did as he told them, taking refuge behind the old ash tree with the stunned Draco. The green killing fireball still hung in the air, and they moved carefully away from it.

Seamus clenched his fist again, opened it, and another bolt of lightning came hurling down as Harry watched, nodding. Voldemort raised his Wand and deflected it, but his shoulders slumped and he groaned.

Voldemort was weaking.

They faced each other then, Dark Power facing Wild Power.

They slashed at one another for a bit, but the Dark Lord was faltering fast. It was almost too easy.

Harry then saw Hedwig frozen in the sky over the wreckage of the cemetery, and he whistled for her as Seamus struck at Voldemort again. The owl seemed to snap back into Time, and swooped in; Harry grabbed her out of the air. “Go get help! Follow the noise! Go get him!” He barked at her, and off she went.

Harry recalled not daring to throw anything else into the mix of Power being tossed about between them. But his Wand was fine this time and he was not afraid that he’d damaged it. Still, he had no idea how long Seamus could hold off Voldemort, and that was why he’d come back to begin with. He had to do something, and he had to do it very soon.

“Back off, Seamus,” he told the boy that he loved, jumping up and dashing towards the fray. He leapt onto Voldemort’s back, pummeling at him with his fists as he began to draw in his Will to Power. “This is MY fight, not YOURS!”

Voldemort reached over and grabbed Harry by the hair, flinging him forward. He let go of a weaker Killing Curse again as Harry rolled in the grass headfirst to crash into a broken gravestone, but Seamus was suddenly there, his small hands moving over Harry’s forehead. The Irish lad was sweating and trembling, and Harry could feel the Power rolling off of him in waves. He took a breath, and found that his ribs had NOT broken. The Killing Curse hit them both again, singeing their clothing, and it died in the aura of Cyan light that suddenly blazed up around them.

Seamus didn’t even flinch. The miasma of cyan light flickered a bit, and if looks alone could have killed, Voldemort would have fallen dead on the spot. Seamus then turned to Harry. “Ya dint, Harry, please tell me ya dint!”

“Dint wot?” Harry asked, watching the Dark Lord trying to rouse Malfoy as he tired.

“The light! The Power! Oh, Harry, please tell me ya dint find … The Knife of Klingsor! Tell me yeh were lyin’ ter Mr. Malfoy!” He pleaded, his face shocked.

He hadn’t even thought about it, but as he did just then, Harry Potter realized that although he’d rejoined himself in the Timeline, he was STILL a eunuch. His hand went to his crotch, and he felt only smoothness. “I had to,” he whispered, taking Seamus by the shoulders and quickly hugging him. “It was the only way. You don’t KNOW what would have happened here tonight, if I hadn’t. There was no other choice!”

“But Harry…” Seamus began, but Harry interrupted him as the Dark Lord began to move again.

“I failed, Seamus, and YOU died. Everyone died. Only I survived. I survived for 200 years, and then I came back in Time to find what was left of ME here, later tonight. I wasn’t strong enough, Seamus. Castration was the only way to boost up my Powers so that I could do it right this time!”

Seamus gulped hard and nodded, but then yelled, pointing.

An immense black light, or rather lack of thereof, began to surround Voldemort. It grew in size, rippling out to touch the cyan aura that surrounded Seamus and Harry. Sparks flew from where they met, and the two of them stared at one another with pure murder flashing in their eyes.

“’E’s still drawin’ Power from somewhere!” Seamus cried, clinging to Harry and wondering what to do. Being told that he was about to die seemed to have unhinged him a bit.

“Relent!” Voldemort cried.

“Eat shit!” Harry retorted.

Closer and closer they moved, and Harry remembered Ron and Darby. They were safe. Ron would not die, and Darby would not hit the Dark Lord with the piece of wood from the old church. Harry’s leg instantly stopped aching, and he stood up, grinning, as the aura of his Power lit up once again.

Voldemort howled in pain at the very sight, and as he fell to his knees, another small green fireball shot from his Wand. It escaped the dark miasma surrounding him and struck Harry, hurling him into the air. But the aura surrounding him acted as a cushion, and the fireball had NO effect. Very softly, he touched back down and began his final advance.

Again and again the Dark Lord drew upon Power from somewhere, his red eyes flashing in fury. But Harry Potter was advancing upon him still, his black cloak flapping in the cold wind with his hood up. As steady as Death Itself, he advanced upon his foe. His blood was boiling, his mind was racing, and he was so close.

He was close to Seamus.

He was close to succeeding.

He was going to win … he was going to take Seamus …

He was going to take him in his arms and …

…as his legs moved as he walked, Harry remembered that he was a Eunuch Wizard as well as his heart hammered and his breath came in small gasps. He trembled all over, and his phantom erection felt as if it were rising in his shorts.

“Damn!” He said aloud, his frustration channeling into his Powers as a Wizard, just as The Knife of Klingsor had intended. He felt the Sorcerer’s Stone hot in his pocket, the vision of his severed genitals flashing before his eyes as he thought about The Knife.

And then an almost inhuman calm descended over him.

“Run, Seamus,” he said in a cold voice, “Run behind the ash tree with the rest and wait. Keep Draco down, I’ll be along soon,” Harry ordered him. Seamus did that as Harry Potter reached into his pocket, his slim fingers closing on The Stone.

He and Voldemort had moved very close to one another, however, and Harry saw the Dark Lord pulling his arm back as if to physically strike him. His head felt as if it were about to split open, but he ignored it. Voldemort was trembling, crawling backwards and shaking his head.

Harry slid The Stone out of his pocket, and not knowing why, jammed it at the end of his Wand. It slid on, much like a sword’s hilt, and stayed there. Voldemort gasped, his red eyes going wide.

“Yeh cahn’t stop me, Voldemort,” Harry told him, and the Dark Lord recoiled. “I’m far more powerful than YOU will e’er be, embodied er not. Yeh cahn’t stop me, yeh cahn’t kill me! You ruined my life once, twice, an’ yeh won’ do it again!”

Then the light of understanding came over him, and he smiled. Very weakly, he said, “So you did it, did you, Potter? You came back in Time to alter things. The Ministry will hunt you down, you know. Even I wouldn’t mess with Time, too many variables, too dangerous. You may well have saved your friends, or so you think, but you may have caused more damage than you know, Potter. And the light, the aura! Tell me, Potter, did it hurt when they castrated you?”

Any other boy probably would have been so upset over being teased about being a eunuch that what Voldemort was planning might have worked. Harry, however, was too far-gone in the calm and control that had overtaken him that summer to fall for it. He simply grinned and shook his head of messy, black hair.

“I cut myself,” he said coldly, lashing out with his Stone-assisted Wand again and blasting at Voldemort for all he was worth.

The amount of Power released was staggering as the Dark Lord tried to retaliate. The wind blew even harder, bending the trees, whipping their robes about them wildly as the thunder crashed overhead. Rain began to fall heavily, and the lightning tore at the sky with renewed fury.

What was left of the Dark Lord lashed out at Harry’s glowing cyan aura in a horrendous explosion of Power.

It wasn’t at all what either of them had expected as they were both knocked over. But only Harry Potter got back up, shaking and disoriented.

Once again, the Dark Lord had failed to kill him.

“I kin stay an’ do this all night long, if’n I ‘av tuh,” Harry told the Dark Lord. “How long can YOU hold out?”

“I don’t need to fight you,” he wheezed, his gaze shifting away from Harry.

And then Harry suddenly remembered something that Alessandro Grimaldi – the old Eunuch Wizard who now ran a music Shoppe in Diagon Alley - had told him; something that he’d learned after leaving his Conservatorio for Hogwart’s.

’It would be Power to die for!’ He’d said, upon being asked what would happen if two Eunuch Wizards came into contact!

“You won’ take us, either one!” Harry shouted at him, “This Power will NOT be yours!” Somehow he just KNEW what was coming next.

He then saw Voldemort, weak and trembling and unable to rise, looking towards the ash tree where his friends had hidden. With all that was left of him, as that rumbling sound grew even closer, the Dark Lord aimed his Wand at the ash tree and let loose with a sizzling bolt of pure black Power. He then quickly followed along that trail of Power, much like he’d ghosted along when Firenze the Centaur had driven him away from Harry in the Forbidden Forest last term.

Harry jumped back as he shot past him, slithering like a snake along the ground and very nearly disembodied totally once again.

And then Harry remembered Ollivander’s words about the Wands.

’Someone is going to be in need of great Power…’

“Seamus!” Harry screamed, “Cross Wands with Darby! Now! Accio, Voldemort!”

It all happened in a flash.
Voldemort fired and fled.
Harry screamed and fired, too, jumping back.
Seamus looked up, pulling his Wand.
Darby did the same.
Harry unleashed the Summoning Charm, and Voldemort stopped in midair, struggling to break free of Harry’s hold on him.

But there wasn’t enough left in him to do it.

And then Harry saw Time slowing down as Seamus ‘grabbed’ it once again. He saw the boys crossing Wands, and heard them come together with a loud BANG as the blast that HE’D fired joined with them!

For a moment, nothing happened.

But the ash tree was moving.

As the Wands crossed in front of it, Voldemort’s Curse hit them. Strengthened by The Elixir of Life, the boys took it full force and were thrown back into the tree. They were unhurt, however, thanks to The Elixir running through their veins. Still, Harry saw the tree moving as the rain soaked them all. It was growing, towering up over them, and the bark seemed to be splitting open. The sound of the bark ripping joined with the thunder and the rumbling, which was now very, very close.

Harry looked up, his vision blurred by his wet specs, to see a bright, round light coming down out of the sky as a ear-splitting roar filled the night.

Seamus and Darby jumped back as the bright light flooded the cemetery and a huge, black dog even larger than Fluffy burst from the tear in the ash tree’s trunk. It sniffed the air, salivating, growling and pawing at the wet turf. Then it saw the boys.

Seamus and Darby and Ron all screamed, and Seamus wet himself. Harry lunged forward as Voldemort froze in fear, but the dog didn’t attack them. Instead, it stopped, licked their faces, and began advancing upon Harry and the Dark Lord as the roaring light touched down at his side.

Voldemort struggled weakly, caught between a proverbial rock and a hard place as Harry refused to let go of him, despite the advancing monster dog. The roaring filled his ears, and the light was blinding.

And then a funny sounding horn honked, and a very large flying motorcycle fell out of the sky!

“Yeh son uv’ a bitch!” Rubeus Hagrid cried, brandishing his pink umbrella with a flourish and then seeing the huge dog. Behind him came Hedwig, who landed on Harry’s shoulder – and Vlad, who flew to Darby.

“FENRIS!” Hagrid called out happily, and the dog wagged its tail, not taking its gleaming eyes off of what remained of the Dark Lord. Hagrid smiled and whapped Voldemort upside the head with it as he tried to rise. Hagrid then jerked his head about, noticing something else, and took off on the motorcycle. “Sic ‘im,” he cried out, and Fenris charged.

Harry saw what he was after as the boys stared, frozen in wonder, beneath the ash tree.

Lucius Malfoy had finally come to and was getting back up, rubbing his head and leaning on the Rolls. He glanced about, taking it all in with a very pale face. He pulled his Wand, but Hagrid had circled back and rode him down in a spray of mud. The huge man then wheeled about, coming back after him as the gigantic Hound of Odin charged as well.

Harry leapt aside with Hedwig as Fenris loped past him, jaws snapping and howling an ear-splitting cry. Voldemort reached out to Malfoy, as if to find aid in escape, but Fenris crushed the car as if it were a toy with one swipe of a huge paw. Malfoy, his pinched ferret-like face white with fear, promptly Disapparated with loud BANG!

Harry then leveled his Wand at Voldemort, fully intent on blasting him to nothingness. Something that he’d read in Fighting Dirty, Dark Arts for Everyone had come to his mind as Fenris had charged, and The Stone at the hilt of his Wand was glowing an angry red color. He fixed his stare upon the fallen Voldemort, his emerald eyes almost glowing as he opened his mouth.

And then the world seemed to jump beneath him one last time, throwing him to the ground and making him drop the Wand.

The Dark Lord took one last look at the boy who was intent upon killing HIM, at the seemingly rabid charging dog, and then vanished with a despairing wail into a stinking puff of black smoke.

“Damnit!” Harry cried in rage, sitting up with his cyan aura fading away as his shoulders slumped. Hedwig nipped at his ear.

Very calmly, Hagrid shut off the motorcycle as the boys – with the exception of the unconscious Draco – peeked out from around the tree. It had lowered its branches like many arms, and the boys were hiding behind their protection.

Harry smiled at Hagrid, who patted Fenris’ head and smiled back. Fenris’ tail wagged happily.

“A’right, Harry?” Hagrid asked.

“I…I think so,” Harry replied, waving to his friends.

Hagrid shook his head as Fenris sat down.

“NEVER try and kill somebody who’s standin’ in tha Protection o’ The Tree ‘o Life,” Hagrid said sagely as the storm began to subside.

Harry just stared at him in disbelief as Fenris wagged his tail happily, looking very pleased with himself.