Harry Potter and the Knife of Klingsor, Part 9

After they’d shed their high altitude clothing and packed it all into a small knapsack, the boys started off on foot. The walk up the hill took them only a few minutes, and very soon, Harry and Ron were following Darby down the one lane dirt road. Harry had been initially worried about what the locals were going to think about seeing three young boys walking down the road, with two of them carrying Broomsticks over their shoulders; not to mention Harry with Hedwig the owl dozing on his other shoulder. Darby, however, hadn’t seemed concerned; he also seemed to know where he was going.

“The neighbors won’ mind a’t’all,” Darby had shrugged, “’Sides, some of ‘em er kinda odd.”

“Odd?” Harry laughed, thinking that ‘odd’ was relative.

“Dad will just shit,” Ron worried, “If some Muggle sees us? We’re already as good as expelled, and poor Darby hasn’t even registered and been sorted yet!”

“I’m surprised that that bitch at the Ministry of Magic hasn’t sent a whole flock of owls out of after us,” Harry grumbled, remembering the night not long ago when Dobby the house elf had gotten him into trouble by smashing Aunt Petunia’s pudding at Privet Drive.

“They’d’v ne’er caught up’ta yer Broomstick, ‘Arry,” Darby mused. “Kin ya fix it, ‘Arry?” He asked in wonder, somewhat over the shock of his ride.

“I’m pretty sure the Quidditch shop at Diagon Alley can fix it, yes,” Harry replied, stroking the shaft lovingly and shaking his head. “What a flight!”

“Dad is just going to shit, and Mum … oh gods, Mum!” Ron moaned again, obviously over his serious rush from the wild flight. “Might as well order the headstone now: Here lies Ronald Weasley, murdered by his Mum.”

Harry grinned at him.

Darby still didn’t look very good, however. He’d only eaten lunch since coming to Ron’s house via the Floo, and he’d spewed up most of that over the Irish landscape during the wild flight back to Ireland. It wasn’t too long before he had to stop and rest.

“Jus’ gimme a bit,” he panted, pale and trembling, “Mr. Kearny should be along soon, it’s midaf’ernoon ya know.”

“Is Mr. Kearny someone you know?” Harry asked nervously, glancing at Hedwig.

Darby nodded and smiled. “Senile ol’ coot down the way a bit, but he drives his wagon by e’ery day like clockwork righ’ ut three er so. We kin hitch us a ride wit’ ‘im.”

And so they waited, sprawled out under a large oak tree in the grass. It was a warm and sunny day, and all of them had changed back into T-shirts and shorts. With the exception of Hedwig and the Broomsticks, they looked inconspicuous enough. To pass the time, Harry and Ron filled Darby in on the joys (and some of the dangers) of going to Hogwart’s. The smaller boy listened in rapt attention, closing his eyes as if imagining it all. He seemed to be accepting the fact that he was a Wizard – slowly. At the mention of Slytherin House and Professor Snape, however, his eyes popped open wide.

“If’n that ruddy hat puts me in with that Malfoy kid yer tellin’ me about, I’ll run away!” Darby swore, and they all laughed.

“It won’t,” Ron predicted, “You’re more of a Gryffindor.”

“Or perhaps a Ravenclaw,” Harry added. “Certainly not a Hufflepuff.”

“I just don’ wanna be a slytherin’ snake,” Darby stated, “Sounds like they all go Bad ter me.”

“I wonder what he’s been doing for holiday?” Harry wondered, his eyes suddenly distant. “He wasn’t too happy on the train.”

“Who?” Darby asked.

“Malfoy,” Harry said softly, almost regretfully.

“Maybe his father killed him,” Ron mused, grinning wickedly.

Harry shook his head, his wild black hair waving everywhere.

“Ya need a haircut, Potter,” Darby told him. “Mebbe we kin visit the barber where I goes.”

Ron laughed. “Haircuts last all of maybe an hour with Harry,” he said.

Darby rubbed his own shortly cropped blonde hair. “Is that a Wizard thing, then?”

“Nope, just me,” Harry replied. “It comes back in an hour or less, every time. My Aunt and Uncle gave up on it long ago.”

“Oh,” Darby mumbled. “Well, it does cover yer scar at least.” Then he paused. “Sorry.”

Harry sighed, brushing his bangs aside. “It’s alright. I’m used to it. Just another reason to want to hunt down Voldemort and make him pay.”

Ron flinched. “Do ya ‘av to say it out loud all the time, Harry?”

“Dumbledore said being afraid to say the name only gives him more power, Ron. He’s bad enough as it is, wounded as he may be. He’ll be back, Ron. He never really went away. He’s found some way to grab Seamus, ya know.” Then Harry’s eyes went distant again. For a moment, he looked as if he were about to cry.

“Steady, Harry,” Ron told him, remembering the night of detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest and some of the things they’d seen in there. Ron knew that Voldemort had been in there as well, feeding on Unicorn blood to sustain himself. A chill passed through him as he thought of something else, but he didn’t dare say it.

What if the Dark Lord had found a way to siphon Power off of little boys?

“I think ya’d better tell me all there is know about this Vohl-der-mart fella,” Darby suggested, his accent mangling the name, “’E sounds like a rotten sort ter me.”

Harry straightened his shoulders and sniffed. He turned to face them both, and Ron nodded at him. Almost shyly, the red-haired boy took Harry’s hand in his, as if hoping to give him strength. He’d remembered that night during their First Year at School, seeming like so long ago, when Harry had told them the full story – or rather what HE knew secondhand – about how the Dark Lord Voldemort had murdered his parents and then lost his own powers and even his body when his Curse had failed to kill the infant Harry Potter. Ron had just sat there in fascinated attention, and Hermione had cried.

Don’t mention it, Ron thought, with a just a tiny touch of jealousy, Harry’s already got it bad fer Seamus … an’ thinkin’ about HIM having the boy in his clutches might just unhinge him.

Darby’s face twisted into a scowl as Harry finished his story, and the smaller boy snorted when Harry told him of how he and Hermione and Ron had thwarted his plans to steal The Sorcerer’s Stone to recover himself to Power.

“Served him right!” Darby exclaimed.

Harry didn’t mention his and Seamus’ exposure to its Elixir of Life, however. He figured that NO ONE needed to know about that.

“There’s jus’ one more thing, tho, that I’d like ter be knowin’,” Darby asked, shivering again and clutching his crotch. “Whas’ all this ‘bout cuttin’ yer cock ‘n balls off if’n yer the right kind’o Wizard? Blimey, ‘Arry, I’m runnin’ away if’n they wave that bloody Knife at me! Poor Seamus! I couldn’a believe it when he finally showed me what they done ter ‘im! All smooth and empty down there, like ‘e wudn’t e’en a boy n’more!”

“Well, like we said, Darby, at least from what Hagrid told us – you’re in no danger of being castrated by the Knife of Klingsor unless you’re born with the Mark. Seamus WAS born with the Mark. That’s why he’s so powerful that he can’t control it and sets things on fire half the time! It’s kind of like Wands – the Wand choses the Wizard. Well, the Mark chose Seamus. Hagrid told me that even if no one had done it to him, the boy born with the Mark sometimes finds the Knife himself and takes matters into his own hands.

“That’s why Voldemort wants him, that’s why he took him. Seamus is probably packing more than enough Wizard Power to regenerate him, magically and physically. And Power is what he needs. That’s why we have to find them! If Voldemort isn’t planning on sucking the Power out of him, then he’s planning on taking over Seamus’ body.”

Shit, Ron thought, He’s already figured out that part!

Darby thought for a moment, looking from Harry to Ron and then back again. “Mark or not,” he asked, confused, “You said Seamus had the Mark. So they cut ‘is cock ‘n balls off so ‘e couldn’a e’er have sex ner play wit’ ‘imself. No cummin’, so as not ter waste ‘is Powers, right?”

Both boys nodded.

“So,” Darby went on, “Like we did in Ron’s room, ya know … wankin’ ‘n such and cummin’ like we did … wouldn’a that ‘av some effect on us? I might be jus’ a newbie a’ this, but I don’ think it hurt me.”

Harry and Ron gaped at each other, wondering. Harry gave them a brief rundown on what all Hagrid had told him just before leaving school. He hit all the salient points about Klingsor: his sexual appetites, how his castration had the unintended side-affect of making him even more powerful, and how frustrated it had made him and caused him to go Bad. He covered the Curse that Klingsor had lain upon the Knife that had cut him, the first boy found self-emasculated in the Hogwart’s Infirmary, and how every so often a boy would be born with the Mark. He also neglected to mention what Madam Pomfrey had done to him, his face turning red at the very thought.

“I don’t feel any different either, do you Harry?” Ron asked nervously, when Harry’s lecture was finished. “I mean, we all had a good cum after all, didn’t we?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think it did anything to us. But … surely! I mean, you know all the men cahn’t be eunuchs, or all the Wizards would die off! There’s Pureblood Wizard kids out there, like Malfoy, so they’re still having babies, right? And eunuchs can’t do that?! If a Wizard got weakened by sex, well … think about it Ron, you’ve got a whole herd of siblings! And your Dad is a good Wizard, isn’t he?”

Ron flushed. “I walked in on ‘em once,” he grinned, “Goin’ at it like rabid minks, they were! Mom screamin’ ‘Give it up, you bald old bastard!’ Gave me nightmares, it did!”

Harry laughed, but Darby was deep in thought.

“What I mean,” Darby corrected, obviously worried about his boyhood, “Is what if’n ya was a Wizard, like us, trainin’, studyin’ at School and all, then one day, ya gets real good and say someone cuts yer balls off, or worse, the whole lot! Ya can’t wank, have sex, but don’tcha still want’a? Ya wanna, but ya can’t, like the Klingsor fella. Wouldn’t ya get more powerful, since ya can’t do that na’more? I mean, if’n yer horny, it’s gotta go SOMEWHERE right?”

“You mean,” Ron mused, unconsciously covering his crotch, “Say that some horny boys, maybe like us … get cut and we can’t get off no more? Do WE get more powerful then? Do you HAVE to have the Mark, then Harry? What if you’re … oh … what do you call it? A eunuch, but not a Marked one, like Seamus? Do fake ones count?”

“Fake eunuchs?” Harry asked.

“Yea,” Darby agreed, “No Mark, but no BOY PARTS neither!”

Harry thought for a moment. Once again, Ron was wondering if his friend were going to blow an aneurysm. Then Harry looked up, his emerald eyes wide.

“I don’t know!” He announced, “Hagrid dint mention that!”

“Blimey, ‘Arry,” Darby pointed out to him, his eyes wide in wonder, “If’n ya stopped Vahl-der-murt (he mispronounced the name again) twice now and yer just hittin’ puberty, what if YOU was a Eunuch Wizard then? Good God, you got Power now, ‘Arry, I think. What if YOU got castrated? What if YOU couldn’t wank ner cum n’more? Would’ja be as strong as yer sayin’ Seamus is?”

Harry thought about the tiny amount of fluid he’d felt himself at Ron’s when they’d forced him to cum twice in a row. He hadn’t mentioned it to them, although thoroughly impressed at the amount of fluid that Ron had ejaculated. He was looking forward to that, in fact, and the thought of never being able to do it made him think of Seamus again and how the emasculated Irish lad had only to touch him to make him feel so good. He felt guilty again, and sighed.

“I’d kill myself,” Ron answered for him, putting a protective arm about Harry’s shoulders. “I’d just bloody well off meself!”

“Think of how Seamus feels,” Harry said dejectedly, looking around. “Are we close to your pond yet, Darby? To where it happened?”

“We’re close, a’right, we kin be there in …”

But Darby was interrupted by the sounds of an approaching wagon. They all jumped up, and Harry’s movement woke up Hedwig. She hooted at him, nipped his ear, blinked, and went back to sleep. They hung back a bit, peering around the sides of the great oak tree. Then Darby smiled, as the creaking wagon got closer. “It’s him, we’re safe!”

“Time to meet the neighbors,” Ron muttered, as they all stepped out and approached the dirt road again.

Darby ran right out to meet Mr. Kearny, who stopped his wagon so suddenly that his shabby looking pony almost sat down in surprise. He was just patting the pony’s nose when Mr. Kearny recovered himself from what looked like a mild attack of apoplexy.

“Darby Sean Patrick O’Gill?!” The old man wheezed, his eyes going wide as he adjusted his small, square glasses at the end of his long, hooked nose. His eyes swept over Darby in disbelief, taking in the sight of his flattened haircut, his shining earring, plain T-shirt and blue soccer shorts. He looked him up and down a few times, and then nodded. He tipped his hat back and leaned down as Darby approached the wagon. The boy looked confused, and Harry and Ron hung back a bit.

“Hello Mr. Kearny!” Darby greeted him happily. “Could we bum a ride, please?”

“Ride? Ride ta where, Darby?! An’ where’s Seamus Finnegan?” The old man crowed in excitement, shaking a long, arthritic finger at him. “The only place yer a’ridin’ to is wit’ ME ter the police, young man! The whole damn town’s in a bloomin’ uproar a’lookin’ fer you and him!” Then he glanced over at Harry and Ron, and blinked. One bushy gray eyebrow went up, and then he turned back to Darby. The pony seemed to sigh heavily at the mention of the word “ride”.

“Who’s that?” The old man asked suspiciously, pointing that gnarled finger at Harry and Ron.

Darby’s grin had faded, and he introduced Harry and Ron, by first name only.

“Charmed,” Mr. Kearny replied, gesturing at the back of his old and rickety looking wagon. “Climb on in, boyos. Been haulin’ Darby and Seamus ‘round in this ‘ere old thing fer long as I kin remember, safe enough I reckon.”

Once they had all settled in, with Darby climbing up to sit beside Mr. Kearny, the pony resumed trotting along. Harry gave up on trying to hide the Broomsticks, and had just tossed them in the bed of wagon. Mr. Kearny hadn’t seemed to notice them at all. The wagon bounced and rattled, and Harry was almost sure that he was going to have to have his teeth retightened when the ride was over. Ron was turning a bit green, and Hedwig was awake again.

“So where in blazes ‘av ya been, Darby?” Mr. Kearny demanded, putting an arm about the small boy’s shoulders and holding the reigns in one practiced hand. “You up and go missin’ wit’ Seamus, an’ what wit’ the house burnin’ and all… hell, we thought ya’s was dead!”

But Mr. Kearny stopped when he saw the confused look on Darby’s face. He thought for a moment, and then leaned down to kiss the boy on the cheek just below his pierced ear. Harry and Ron watched, wondering what was going on, as the old man straightened back up with a tear in his eye.

“Better gimme yer side of it first,” he suggested in a calmer voice, and Harry and Ron saw him pull the smaller boy closer, his hand protectively placed upon Darby’s tummy as he glanced about nervously.

“Uh oh,” Ron breathed in Harry’s ear, “Somethin’s wrong, I can tell!”

“Him and Seamus must spend a LOT of time with the old man,” Harry mused, “What wit’ Seamus dad leavin’ and all, I’m not surprised.” But then again, Harry had much experience with old people, and he didn’t have grandparents. He wondered if Mr. Kearny’s displays of open affection to a boy that was not his own were normal or not.

“Uh, well…” Darby began, not wanting to mention the Floo trip with Mr. Weasley nor the Broomstick ride back, “Seamus and I were a’swimmin’ at the pond, ya know…”

Mr. Kearny nodded in delight. “An’ when ‘r ye’s not in that pond, splashin’ about an’ terrorizin’ the fishes? Go on, boy!”

“An’ this man, he come up outta nowheres an’ grabbed Seamus on the way back, near the bridge, an’ he jus’ took off wit’ him! I run fer help, but I was so scared ‘e’d come after me, I jus’ ran and…”

“That’s not like you at all, Darby,” Mr. Kearny said in a low tone, his thick accent all but gone; the little hairs on the backs of Harry and Ron’s necks all stood up.
“Running off like that and not telling anyone. What were you thinking, boy? You KNOW yer s’posed to come to us if’n there’s no other adult nearby! How many times we got’s to tell ya’s, Darby? I think we’ll be a’needin’ to ‘av a word er three wit’ the Missus, Darby. I’ll wait ‘til we get there to fill ya’s in ‘bout whas happ’nin’ since ya been gone.”
Harry noted that his accent had returned at the mention of ‘the Missus.’

“Fill me in?” Darby squeaked.

“Yer gone fer a bit, both ‘o ya’s, boy, don’t’cha think someone might be a trifle upset? Pandemonium, i’twas! Now, where’s Seamus at?”

Darby looked down at his feet, his face flaming. He leaned over heavily upon Mr. Kearny and sighed. “We don’ know.”

They made the rest of the ride in silence, with Mr. Kearny stealing glances over his shoulder at Harry and Ron from time to time. The boys pretended not to notice it, but Hedwig openly stared at the old man, ruffling her feathers and clicking her beak at him. Harry and Ron kept quiet, watching the countryside jostle by.

When they arrived at the Kearny residence, the old man had the boys jump down just outside the white picket fence. Rather self-consciously, Harry and Ron grabbed up their Broomsticks as Mr. Kearny lowered Darby to the ground. The boy ran up and opened the gate, and Mr. Kearny drove through. He then coaxed the tired old pony to make the short trip to the barn. They waited for him to come back, loitering about in front of the gate for a bit. There was a flat spot in the grass, Harry saw, and a small bare patch of earth where had Darby had stood to hold the gate open. That patch was just about the size of a small pair of feet.

The Kearny home was a modest house, not too large, and not too small. It was done up in a simple cottage style, and really didn’t look all that much like a farmhouse. It was neatly painted white, with window boxes full of blue and purple flowers at each of the arched windows. The roof was tiled, and a wisp of smoke rose from the chimney at the top center of it. Harry thought that it would look somewhat out of place on Privet Drive, but perhaps belonged in the near-rural parts of where towns just ended. It certainly didn’t look like an Irish farmhouse. It looked rather inviting, however, and Harry felt almost safe there.

The barn was suitably distant, consisting of one lower floor built of huge orange bricks and had a hayloft with a small awning. It was unpainted above the bricks and looked as if it could collapse at any moment. The house though, looked safe enough to Harry. It certainly looked to be in much better shape than The Burrow that Ron called home, which he pointed out to Harry and Darby. The view consisted mainly of rolling green fields, with forests in the distance. A few trees shaded the house, and the lawn in front was rather plain with strange flowers blooming here and there in a few spots.

“Le’s go on up,” Darby insisted, heading for the house, “Mrs. Kearny’s bound t’av some’tin fer us! She always does!”

Harry and Ron shrugged and followed him. Hedwig took off from Harry’s shoulder and headed to the barn loft, hooting in delight as she swooped through the awning and took up residence in the dark rafters above. When they arrived on the porch, Ron stopped and grabbed Harry’s shoulder, pointing at a Broom that was standing unaided by the door. It wasn’t leaning on the wall – it was standing up by itself!

“Tha’s a Comet series,” Ron told him in a whisper. Being the avid Quidditch fan, Ron Weasley knew his Broomsticks on sight. The handle was smooth and shiny, and a bit bowed at the center as if it had spent years carrying a rather heavy rider.

Darby had just raised his small fist to knock when the front door burst open.

All three of them jumped, and Ron dropped his own Broomstick in shock.

“Darby Sean Patrick O’Gill!” A rather large lady thundered at him, sweeping him up in her beefy arms and squeezing him until his ribs creaked. “Where ‘av ya been, boy!? I’ve been beside meself, don’t’cha know, wha’ wit’ yeh and Seamus gone and no’un to be eatin’ all the fineries I’ve made since day be’fur! Where is Seamus, any-hoo?!” She bellowed, planting a rather wet kiss on Darby’s cheek and glancing around the front lawn. “Seamus?” She called out, and Harry’s heart sank further. Then she turned her gaze upon them. “An’ who would these fine little boyo’s be?”

Harry and Ron’s jaws dropped open. Mrs. Kearny, while obviously old, certainly was not infirm. She was at least a head taller than Mr. Kearny and as large as Harry’s Uncle Vernon! Her gray/blue hair was drawn up in tight curls, stopping at the shoulder of her light blue dress, which was printed in white and yellow daisies. It came down to the floor, and had white lace at all the cuffs and edges. She was also wearing a spotted and patched apron, and Darby was powdered in flour when she sat him down. Harry noticed tears in her sparkling blue eyes, and elbowed Ron.

“And who might these two Broomstickers be?” She asked again, pointing at Harry and Ron, who were trying to look inconspicuous.

They were failing miserably.

“These are me friends, Ma’am, Ron and…” Darby began, but Mrs. Kearny’s jaw had dropped as well. Her luminous eyes went wide, and she nervously wiped her dough spotted hands at her apron. She looked closely at Harry, and the boy recognized ‘the look’. Too late, he realized that his messy hair had shifted to the left, revealing his scar.

“Harry Potter!” She cried, grabbing up the startled boy before he could make an escape attempt. Ron took a step back, but her long free arm caught him as well. “And you must be?”

“Ron … uh … Ron Weasley, Ma’am,” Ron replied politely, trembling a bit.

“Pleased to meet you!” She cried, attempting to break all of their ribs at once, and shooing them into the house. “YOU,” she said to Darby, “You ‘av a ton of explainin’ to do, little Mister!” She told him, smacking his bum as he went in. Her hand made a loud SLAPPP! noise and Darby yelped in surprise.

She then herded the confused boys past the small vestibule, making them all take their shoes off and throw them into a box at the inner door. They were then led into a large and scrupulously clean kitchen, and Harry immediately felt his stomach roll. Here and there were the tell-tale signs that the Kearny house was definitely NOT a Muggle home. He allowed himself to be parked at the large, round kitchen table, and suddenly found a plate full steaming hot food under his nose. Mrs. Kearny appeared to move almost faster than his green eyes could follow, pouring iced pumpkin juice and bringing a tray of hot rolls.

“Starvin’ boys, I kin spot ‘em a mile off,” she announced, patting Darby’s head and calling out the window at Mr. Kearny. “Hurry up, now, Mister Kearny! I’m not a’getting’ any younger, ya know!”

Ron and Harry glanced about, Ron pointing to a Wizard clock on the far wall. It had, like the one at Ron’s house, only one hand, and no numbers. Instead, it was pointing at an icon of a table that read, “Feed the boys” beneath it. The icon below it was a question mark that read “Interrogate Darby O’Gill”. Ron then reached for the sugar bowl, which snapped at him. He pulled his hand back with a small yelp, and Darby laughed.

“Odd things, wha’?” Darby commented, attacking his early dinner as if he were indeed starved. Considering where his lunch had ended up, it was very probable that he WAS starving.

All three of them looked around, and suddenly the light of understanding began to show on Darby’s face, as his eyes seemed to be seeing the Kearny home for the very first time. Harry shook his head, however, surveying the kitchen and motioning for them to just eat and wait. Darby and Ron caught on and didn’t hesitate nor risk insulting Mrs. Kearny. They ate.

There was a doorway right behind Harry, to his left, on the north wall. Ron sat on his right, a high shelf behind him. Darby sat to Ron’s right, around the table a bit, with a doorway just behind him as well. To his right farther was a large bay window in a nook, and coming off it was a large black, pot-bellied stove. Next to the stove on the south wall was another door, an old unfinished and thick wood door that was bordered on the east wall by a long sink and cabinets. That returned Harry’s gaze to the door to the vestibule they’d entered. Then he looked up. The ceiling appeared to done in plain white spackle, and it also appeared to be higher than the roofline of the outside of the house. A wrought iron chandelier hung over the table, holding at least two dozens large candles.

It’s a Wizard’s house all right, Harry thought, And poor Darby just guessed it. Seamus would have been right at home here, but Darby? Add to that the fact that she called us ‘Broomstickers’ and recognized me! She gave me the ‘oh my word, it’s that Harry Potter look’.

“I see ye’v met our guests, Mrs. Kearny,” Mr. Kearny announced, coming in the door and startling the boys.

“Guests? Well, two of ‘em, anyhoo. Since when is Darby O’Gill a guest in this house? He practically lives here,” she corrected him.

“Your last name is ‘O’Gill’?” Harry asked, “Seriously?”

Darby’s face flushed. He finished chewing a mouthful of food and nodded. “Someone’s got a nasty sense of humor,” he commented.

“Not as bad as ‘Weasley’,” Ron commented, a roll in one hand and a forkful in the other.

“It’s a Muggle thing, Ron,” Harry explained. “Television. There was a show on it a long time ago, an old movie, called ‘Darby O’Gill and the Little People’. Set in Ireland, about leprechauns and…”

“Leprechauns?” Mr. Kearny interjected, “I recall seein’ that show once, long before I met Mrs. Kearny here,” he added with a smile, and Harry grinned at how they addressed each other so formally. “I ne’er would’a made the connection though. Darby O’Gill … my, my. I must be getting’ old and slow.”

“I get so sick of people asking me if I know any Leprechauns,” Darby told them in a disgusted voice. “Why didn’t they just call me Sean instead?”

“It’s yer unbearable charm and perfect little sweet face,” Mr. Kearny informed him with a broad smile.

“I’d imagine the Muggles do have a heyday with that name,” Harry mused.

Mr. Kearny nodded.

The boys grinned at him, and Mrs. Kearny shoved a plate under his nose as well. “Watch who yer a’callin’ ‘Muggle’, little Mister,” she joked at Harry, brushing a hand over Harry’s mop of wild hair and muttering something. Harry’s wild head of black, thick hair immediately went flat and his scalp tingled as every single hair fell into neat order. His green eyes went wide, and Ron dropped his fork with a small gulping sound.

“Ooh, now, did I ferget to mention that Mrs. Kearny’s a bit of an old Witch?” Mr. Kearny asked the boys with a broad grin. “Figur’d it’s safe to say, what’all wit the boyo’s here all packin’ Broomsticks and an owl.”

Then Darby straightened up in his chair and looked around. He looked at Harry, who rolled his green eyes and nodded. The proverbial cat, so to say, seemed to have gotten out of the bag. Darby grinned. “Guess what Mrs. Kearny?” He piped up.

“What?” She guessed at, pulling a face at him, “Let me think. I know! You’re a Wizard, aren’t you, Darby?”

“Harry said so!” Darby agreed happily, “And know what? Seamus is too!”

“Well imagine that!” Mrs. Kearny smiled at him, pulling out a Wand of her own from her sleeve and shaking it at him. “An’ about bloody time ya come into yer own, too!”

Harry’s stomach lurched at the mention of Seamus and he put down his fork. “That’s why we’re here, Ma’am,” he stated in low voice. “I guess since you’re a Witch and all, I mean … I could tell when I walked in, me and Ron. And I’d wager Seamus knew too. Just our luck, I guess.”

Mr. Kearny bit into a roll and nodded. “An’ ya’s got no idée how hard ‘twas to keep Seamus Finnegan quiet about it, too, in front of little Darby, here.”

“We’ll not be a’turnin’ ya’s in,” Mrs. Kearny assured him. “Lucky fer you, though, given the shape o’ yer Nimbus out there.” Then she thought for a bit. “Here we are, harborin’ underage runaway Wizards. What’s we to do, Mr. Kearny?”

Harry’s jaw dropped again.

Mr. And Mrs. Kearny both grinned at him. “Of course Seamus knew, too! He practically grew up here, him and Darby. We thought we were gonna ‘av to toss Darby out the barn loft to prove that he was too! Suspected it, though, the way him and Seamus got on,” Mr. Kearny stated.

Mrs. Kearny was looking a bit distressed, however.

“You know Seamus was ill about a year ago?” He asked sneakily, “Right a’fore he went off to School?”

Darby blanched, but Harry nodded. Ron was squirming in his seat. “He wasn’t ill, sir, he was … he had the Mark … I mean, he didn’t get ill, he had to recover from…”

But Harry didn’t need to finish. Mr. Kearny nodded. “Born with the Mark, ‘e was, poor boy. That’s why we can’t figur’ out ‘ow he just up’n vanished. I s’pose ya’s all know that Seamus isn’t really … that he …”

Harry nodded, and Mr. Kearny sighed in relief.

“He told ya’s?” Ron asked, amazed.

“That ‘e did,” Mrs. Kearny said, “Poor little thing. He was so ashamed. First Eunuch Wizard in two centuries, that Seamus. You two are not … uh … cut, are ya’s?”

There was an awkward silence, and Harry saw Ron gritting his teeth. “NO!” Ron exclaimed suddenly. Then he looked embarrassed. “Sorry. You mentioned filling us in,” Ron finally managed, his hands gone under the table.

Mrs. Kearny sighed and moved to scoop Darby up. She took his seat and deposited the small boy in her generous lap, hugging him close in her protective arms. “The other day,” she began, “We saw the boys goin’ by on their bikes like always. Figur’d they wuz a’headin’ to the pond again. Long about evenin’, the sky clouds up, been clear as a bell all day, then WHOOSH!” She exclaimed, waving one hand in the air, “The wind comes up and the air goes cool. Next thing we know, there’s a clap of thunder. Now mind ye’s, the boys ALWAYS stop here on the way back – always! Lookin’ fer a handout I’ll wager,” she said, tickling Darby’s ribs and making him giggle.

“But they ne’er come that night,” Mr. Kearny continued for her. “Seamus ner Darby, not hide ner hair of ‘em. Next thing we know, we hears sirens. Knew somethin’ was bad wrong then. Here comes the Muggle fire brigade, headin’ to Darby’s direction.” He paused then, and Harry’s heart began to sink. The thought of Seamus’ vanishing and ‘fire department’ in the same sentence didn’t sit well with him.

“Fire?” Darby squeaked, squirming around to look at Mrs. Kearny. She nodded grimly, and then reached for a newspaper. Unlike the Daily Prophet, the Wizard paper, it was a Muggle paper and the picture on the front page wasn’t moving. It was an image of a burnt up house. Harry could see the bold headline, and he suddenly felt sick.

Fire Destroys Home on Killane Rd., Family Killed. Missing Child Presumed Drowned in Local Pond

Mrs. Kearny held Darby tightly as she read the article in a trembling voice. “Last night, a mysterious fire totally destroyed the O’Gill residence at 293 Killane Road. The entire family, with the exception of a young son, Darby, was at the home at the time. The cause of the fire remains unknown, but there were no survivors. Darby O’Gill, aged 11, was believed not to be at home at the time and is missing, presumed dead. His bicycle was found abandoned near O’Fallon Pond, along with the bicycle of a close friend, Seamus Finnegan, also missing. Foul play IS suspected. Efforts to dredge the pond today have been stalled due to malfunctioning equipment, but authorities are admittedly not hopeful of finding the boys alive. A senior department member was quoted as saying…”

She was interrupted, however, by Darby suddenly burying his pale face in her ample bosom with a strangled cry. Harry and Ron watched as she rocked him slowly, patting his back. Harry jerked his head once, and he and Ron got up to go out onto the porch.

“It’s just like me, Ron,” Harry whispered, unable to listen to Darby’s muffled sobs as the small boy’s whole world fell in upon him. “It’s just like what HE did to me. Parents murdered, house destroyed … If your Dad hadn’t … if he hadn’t used the Floo…”

Ron nodded, stepping forward to take his best friend in his arms as Harry collapsed into him. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done. And so it was that Mrs. Kearny held Darby as Ron held Harry.

The only difference was that Darby O’Gill was able to cry.

He cried for quite some time, during which Harry made a decision. He poked his head back in the door, after he’d recovered his wits, and asked Mr. Kearny, “Mind if I borrow your Broom, sir?”

Mr. Kearny thought for a moment as his wife carried Darby into the living room to lay him down on a daybed along the south wall. Very tenderly, she stripped off his dirty clothing and tucked him in. Harry could see her holding a Wand of some light colored wood and just barely heard her say the words that put the trembling lad to sleep.

“Take the old Comet,” Mrs.Kearny told him softly, “Not near as fast as yer Nimbus, Harry, but she’ll get ya there and back. Follow the road on down to the stone bridge o’er the small stream; follow the stream into the pond. That’s where they were at. If’n what we’re thinking, the Mister and meself, then it was Dark Wizards, Harry. Be careful. If’n they got Seamus, what wit that vicious cat guardin’ ‘im an’ all…”

But Harry had already turned to go. “It won’t be the first time we’ve tangled, Ma’am,” he assured her. “He failed twice, he’ll fail again!” Harry snarled angrily, letting the door slam closed behind him.

“UP!” He ordered the old Broom, and Mrs. Kearny’s Comet obeyed him, jumping into his hand. Ron mounted his Cleansweep, minus the towrope, and the two Gryffindors rose into the air to follow the road as Mrs. Kearny had instructed. In minutes, they were circling above the pond and the abandoned dredging equipment. Fortunately, the workers had called it a day, unable to make their machines work.

“They should’a used Magic,” Ron called out, hand on his Wand and ready. “I’d guess those tractors and such are all beWitched to not run.”

Then Harry pulled out his holly Wand, and aimed it at the water, coming to hover above it. “Revallo!” He cried, and a pale cyan light shot from the tip of his Wand to strike the smooth surface of the water.

A thin fog seemed to rise up from the pond, and in that fog, Harry could see the ghostly images of two bikes and their tracks in the tall grass. There were footprints on the bank of the pond, and ripples in the water as two little ghosts – Seamus and Darby, he guessed – splashed about and laughed as a large gray cat watched over them.

“Instant replay!” Ron cried, “Hermione, you are the best!”

Harry nodded, glad that Hermione had done her homework. The Revallo Spell was doing just what they needed it to do.

They watched as the two after-images of the boys came up out of the water, naked and dripping. Harry could just make out Darby and his small genitals, and Seamus with his empty eunuch’s groin. He didn’t look abashed, however, and Darby didn’t look the least bit surprised. The ghosts were then lying in the green grass, soaking up the rare summer sunshine, talking and poking at, then wresting with one another. Their hands touched each other’s bodies here and there, the image of Darby touching Seamus where his boyhood should have been. The image of Seamus was touching Darby as well, fondling his tightly circumcised little cock as if trying to remember what it was like to have one himself.

Harry felt jealous, then stifled it. But didn’t it make sense? Just because he had no life and no friends outside of school didn’t mean that everyone – Seamus included, eunuch or not – didn’t. He shook his head, bit his lip, and watched as the two ghostly images explored one another’s bodies.

And then the grass was bending over in the sudden wind. The sky was darkening, and there was a loud POP as a figure in a black robe Apparated right next to them. It aimed a Wand – holly, Harry could see, even at his altitude on the old Comet – at the gray cat and shouted Stupefy!

The cat fell over, and then the figure aimed the Wand at the boys.

Very suddenly, Harry and Ron saw the ghost of Hedwig the owl swooping down with a letter in her claws, dropping it in the grass to slash as the dark figure’s upraised arm. Blood flew and the robe tore as she shrieked at him, biting at his face and flogging him with her wings. She was also glancing about as she attacked, as if she knew exactly what she were doing.

Hedwig was attempting to create a diversion.

It worked. Seamus, or rather the image of him, was up and running for his clothing. The image of Darby, Harry and Ron could see, was backing away with his mouth agape and shaking his head. It then became apparent why the naked form of Seamus was running. Reaching his clothing, he grabbed up his own Wand, aimed it back, and fired a blast of blazing blue energy back at the dark figure. His robe caught fire, but the dark figure fired a bolt of energy back at Seamus that caused his Wand to fly up and over his head. Harry stared closer, hovering down a bit, and noticed that Seamus had had a haircut; a very short haircut at that.

But Seamus didn’t run, and his Spell hadn’t burnt his eyebrows again. Naked and defenseless, the small eunuch charged at his attacker with an animalistic growl. Hedwig was still flogging at the dark figure as Seamus jumped him, pounding his little fists in the figure’s face.

“Leave him alone!” Seamus cried, “You leave my friend alone!”

“Ron, look!” Harry called, pointing to the right of the dark figure as it advanced upon Darby. There was a second figure there, a much shorter one, slowly Apparating out of thin air. It was also dressed in black, but from the edges of the small black robe, Harry could see pale, white blonde hair. Hedwig broke off her attack as Seamus mauled at his attacker, swooping over to rip at the smaller figure’s hood with her claws. She tore it back, and then fled.

“Malfoy!” Harry cried, clenching his Wand as his knuckles turned white.

The image of Draco Malfoy was advancing upon Darby, but the naked boy turned and ran. Malfoy pulled his own Wand and fired upon him, but missed. Ron cheered. “He always was a lousy shot!”

“That’s him, alright,” Harry snarled, “I recognize that Wand.”

Then the taller figure, certainly not Voldemort, Harry knew, stunned Seamus with a good cuff to the head. The boy collapsed, and the figure stunned him with his Wand.

But it’s not him, Harry thought, It’s got to be Mr. Malfoy!
Voldemort, bodiless and weak, couldn’t possibly have made it to Ireland and be in good enough physical shape to grab up a boy. He then picked Seamus up, and both Disapparted in a loud POP, along with Draco Malfoy as well.

The fog cleared as the image of Darby ran away to disappear into the trees.

Harry could smell smoke, and Ron was yelling at him. There was another loud POP, and the boys could see phantom flames licking at the sky in the distance as something large burned. Harry felt sick again, but he knew that he was only watching the past. There was nothing he could do, but then he realized something: Whoever had grabbed Seamus was after Darby. The boy was a witness, and witnesses were not to be left behind to talk. Darby’s house was burning, his family dying, but the boy wasn’t there! He’d run somewhere. Harry thought hard. He’d run to Seamus’ house, he’d said!

“He outsmarted ‘em! He’s gone to get the Floo powder from Seamus’ room!” Ron said, “Just like ‘e told us – ‘e dint run home, ‘e run to Seamus’ house! They won’t think ‘o ‘im runnin’ there, Harry, that’s how he did it! Seamus must’a suspected somethin’, just like Darby said.”

Ron then shook his head. “Who’d’a thought he was a’gonna be ready fer this? I mean, fer all he knew, Darby was just a Muggle friend of his, not a Wizard. How did Seamus know?”

Harry nodded. “Seamus knew he himself had Power, Ron. He knew that someone might not like that. He probably suspected Darby did too, hangin’ out with the Kearnys all their lives. You can’t live in a house like that, or have a best friend who’s a Wizard and not know. Darby’s safe enough with Mrs. Kearny, I think. We’ll go back there and get the Nimbus and Hedwig, and then we’re heading to Diagon Alley. Mrs. Kearny can Floo us there, and I can get the Broomstick fixed at Quality Quidditch Supply.”

“Then what?” Ron asked, puzzled.

“Then,” Harry replied, “We come back here and use MY Wand to follow its brother Wand. Wherever it took Seamus off to, we’ll be able to follow … just as soon as I figure out how to do it!”

The sun was beginning to sink into the western sky when Harry and Ron returned to the Kearneys’. They had risked a flight over the town, with Harry casting Revallos here and there. He had turned up no new leads, however.

They parked the Broomsticks on the front porch, kicked off their shoes in the vestibule, and went in. The house was quite, all except for a lady’s voice coming from the front room. Ron and Harry listened at the door, Wands at the ready.

“The police came by again,” the unknown lady was saying in a tragic voice.

“Ya know they’ll be ‘avin’ NO leads, Miss,” Mrs. Kearny replied, and the boys lowered their Wands. “What kin Muggle cops do when ‘tis a Magical crime?” They stepped into the living room.

Darby was still asleep in the daybed, a cold washcloth on his forehead. A very attractive and young lady was sitting at his bedside, holding his small hand in her own. Her face was streaked with tears, and he brown eyes were red from crying. She brushed her long, sandy brown hair back from her face and looked up with a gasp. Her free hand, clutching a handkerchief, went to her mouth with a small sound.

“Oh, Harry!” She wailed, as Mrs. Kearny, just behind her, beckoned the boys in. She took Harry in her arms and held him, shaking in grief. When she’d recovered just a bit, she properly greeted them. Harry and Ron nodded to her, but she hadn’t released his hands. Instead, she just stared up at Harry with a lost look on her face.

Then they heard the vestibule door close behind them, indicating that someone else had come in. Harry and Ron jumped, pulling their Wands and dropping low into a dueling stance. Mr. Kearny flinched when he came around the doorway, his talking to someone else dying on his lips at the sight of the young Wizards armed for battle.

“As I wuz a’sayin’ to ye, Mr. Finnegan, if’n there’s anyone who kin track down yer boy … Boyo’s!” Mr. Kearny shouted, jumping back, “Iz jus’ me! Lower yer weapons!” He cried with a broad grin.

The man standing behind him made Harry’s blood run cold. He was a bit taller than Mr. Kearny, and he looked exactly like Seamus! His sandy hair was cut in a short ivy style, and he was dressed in a gray business suit. He looked rather travel-stained and worn. His eyes were a light brown, almost hazel, and his face was spotted here and there with freckles. His jaw dropped open as he took in the sight of the boys, his estranged wife, Mrs. Kearny (which was enough to frighten any grown man), and Darby. He choked a bit, unable to speak.

“Is he … is he … any word?” he finally managed, leaning on the doorframe as Mr. Kearny took his arm.

The lady at the bed, obviously Seamus’ mother, Ron and Harry realized, shook her head. She stared longingly at her estranged husband, but didn’t move.

“I came as fast as I could when I heard,” Mr. Finnegan offered helplessly.

Mrs. Kearny cleared her throat and slid her Wand up her sleeve. “Mr. Finnegan,” she began, laying a firm hand on Ron and Harry’s shoulders to introduce them. “This is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Friends and schoolmates of Seamus. They’ve come to look fer ‘im.”

Seamus’ father blinked. “What about the police? My son is kidnapped, and some crazy Magic teacher sends me two little boys to find him?”

Ron snorted. “No one sent US,” he snapped, “We’re breakin’ every rule there is to look fer him. Probably end up expelled, we will!”

“Be nice,” Mrs. Kearny ordered, squeezing his shoulder. Ron winced.

“Pleased to meet you,” Harry said, and offered a hand.

Mr. Finnegan, however, looked at him as if he’d offered him a live snake. “Seamus talks about you all the time,” he said softly, finally taking Harry’s small hand in his own. “He talks about school, you, Magic stuff that I don’t understand. But mostly you.” Harry nodded, and he could see the anguish on his face of a man who had just lost his only son. “But the police, won’t they find … I’d think they’d have a lead by now? Boys just don’t disappear into thin air!”

“Of course they do,” Ron informed him.

“Please,” Mr. Finnegan replied with a pained look, staring at his wife who still sat holding Darby’s hand. “Please, not more with the Magic stuff. I’m in no shape. My boy … my son … Seamus,” he stammered in a broken voice, “He’s been through enough already!”

“An’ tha’s exactly why these two are here,” Mrs. Kearny informed him. “Haven’t you gotten it into yer skull yet, Mister? There’s more to the world than you Muggles know. You married a Witch, Mister, and yer son’s the most powerful Wizard to come along in two centuries! Open yer mind up a bit, man!”

Mr. Finnegan’s gaze had fallen upon Darby then, and he slowly approached the daybed where the boy lay very still. His wife’s eyes followed him as he knelt down and placed a large hand over her own, which still held Darby’s. “He’s like the little brother Seamus never had,” he stated. “Is he going to be alright?”

Mrs. Kearny shook her head, her blue/white curls waving. “Bad shock he took, poor boy. Ye’v been out ‘o town, Mister Finnegan, lots ye don’ know ‘bout. Whoever took Seamus tried ter kill Darby here, an’ set his house on fire. The boy’s lost ‘is whole family overnight and just found out ‘e’s a Wizard too. If’n YER boy Seamus hadn’t clued him in some, ‘e’d prob’ly be dead now. Darby’s going to be needin’ a LOT of love and care when he wakes up, I’ll wager.”

“Will he … will they…?” Mr. Finnegan tried to ask, but he choked up. Almost reluctantly, as if he thought she might strike him, he leaned upon his wife and stared deep into her eyes. “I’m so sorry…” he told her, “Maybe if I’d been here, if I hadn’t left last year when they … when they came and hurt Seamus with that damn Knife…”

“They ye’d have prob’ly done somethin’ to interfere and gotten ye’s all killed,” Mrs. Kearny told them in a harsh tone. “T’was Seamus tellin’ Darby how to use the Floo and such that saved him, since he come to yer place after the attack. Whoever grabbed ‘im come after Darby, too. T’was Darby what called Harry and Ron here, an’ I’ll bet they already know who took ‘im if not where to!”

Seamus’ father turned back to face them, still holding his wife’s hands in his own. Harry and Ron stared back at him, remembering how upset their friend had been at school when he’d told them that he was going home to a home that no longer included a father. But he’d come back, and skeptical or not, that was a start. “And these two are going to find my boy?” He asked in disbelief. “Who is it then? Who grabbed my boy?”

“A Dark Wizard by the name of Malfoy,” Ron spat.

“And you can follow him?” Mr. Finnegan asked, stunned, “You think you can find them?”

“If it’s the last thing I do,” Harry promised him in a cold voice.

“If it’s the last thing WE do,” Ron corrected him.

“And how will you find this person who took him?” Mr. Finnegan asked, “How will you know where to look?”

Harry pulled his Wand back out and held it up. Mr. Finnegan flinched.

“THIS will lead me right to him,” Harry replied in a dangerous voice, “And gods help whoever I find at the other end of the trail!”

There was a long, awkward silence. Finally, Mrs. Kearny spoke up. “Well, there’s not much we kin do tonight. Ther’ll be no flyin’ about in the dark! Besides, every Witch and Wizard out there is prob’ly out lookin’ fer either Seamus, or out lookin’ for Harry and Ron here. We’ll all have us a good sleep and get on it in the mornin’.”

“But…” Harry protested, “We’ve only got two days left until full moon! If we don’t find him by then…”

“Then ye’ll find ‘im later,” Mr. Kearny supplied, jerking his head at Seamus’ father. Harry caught the implication that the man was NOT ready to hear about what Voldemort planned to do the boy in two nights time and simply nodded.

“Besides,” Mrs. Kearny mused, “Ye’ll be needin’ disguises. Every Witch and Wizard out there knows Harry Potter on sight, and where there’s a Harry, there’s a Weasley! Ye’ll both have to look like someone else, or ye’ll be dragged back to Hogwart’s in chains fer a juvenile trial!”

Ron looked at Harry, his eyes wide. “I hadn’t thought about that!” He exclaimed in shock.

Harry, however, sighed. He stepped over to a mirror on the wall, which spoke up in a shrill voice. “No doubt about that one, it’s Harry Potter, alright!” It cried. “Fix that hair, boy!”

“Hopeless,” Harry muttered, pulling his bangs off of his scar.

“Ouch!” The mirror squawked at him.

Mr. Kearny, however, was smiling broadly. “Leave it ter the Missus, Harry, she’ll figure out how to disguise ya! Won’t be a soul in the world’ll know ya’s Harry Potter when she’s done wit’ ya!”

Ron shook his red head and sat down heavily in a chair near the doorway. “Let’s worry about it in the mornin’,” he agreed, “I’m beat.”