Harry Potter and the Knife of Klingsor, Part 16, Quintessential Chapter

“Ya ‘av ter do it, Harry,” Hagrid was telling him, shaking his bushy head of wild black hair and pacing the floor of his small cabin at the edge of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwart’s School grounds. He seemed very upset, but Harry had no clue as to what he was on about.

“Yea,” Ron agreed, “There’s no other way. Yer not strong enough, ya know.”

Harry looked at Ron, perplexed, then at Hermione, who was saying with resignation as if she’d just flunked an exam, “Well, I don’t see WHY you should have to, but then again, if the legend is true…”

“Yea,” Darby agreed, almost swallowed up by the giant-sized chair near the fireplace in which he was sitting.

Fang the Boarhound was sitting next to him and barked in agreement, looking as if he were contemplating whether or not if he could get all of the small boy’s head into his mouth for the ultimate dog-lick of affection.

“Huh?” Harry asked the group in general, as Hagrid rooted about in a drawer.

“Now where did I put the bloody thing at?” He grumbled in irritation. He slammed the drawer, and then went to pick up his pink umbrella. Harry suspected that it contained a magic Wand somewhere in the handle. “Accio Knife,” he said aloud, waving the umbrella about the kitchen.

Nothing happened.

“Well,” he sighed, “I guess tha’s that. Sorry, ‘Arry. No castration fer ya tonight.”

“WHAT?!” Harry squeaked, nearly falling off of his chair at the kitchen table and looking at his friends in horror. His hands went between his legs, and he swallowed with an audible GULP sound.

“You know,” Ron said, as if thinking that Harry should already know what was going on and why they were there at Hagrid’s when they should have been in Diagon Alley, “The Knife of Klingsor an’ what it does to boys like us? Tha’s whut he’s lookin’ for.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed calmly, as if nothing were amiss as she poured tea and served scones, “I was reluctant at first to believe it, but you’re such a great Wizard, Harry, that a million-fold increase in your Powers would REALLY put the Dark Lord in his place, now, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t stand a chance against you then, even though you’ve beaten him twice already. Pity Hagrid cahn’t find it. All that silly stuff dangling between your legs anyway…”

“Won’t any ol’ knife do?” Darby interrupted, right as Fang soaked the side of his closely cropped head with his long, wet tongue and happily wagged his tail. “Ewww!” The small boy complained loudly, which only prompted the huge dog to lick him again. Hagrid tossed him a dish towel, which was the size of a tablecloth. When he’d recovered a bit, he added, “Does it really matter HOW you lop it off, long as you DO it?”

“Oh, yes, it matters,” Hagrid said wisely, as if he knew all about The Knife of Klingsor and Eunuch Wizards in general. “Ya can cut a boy with any old knife an’ boot up his Powers, yes, but there’s special Magic in The Knife of Klingsor. Ol’ Klingsor himself saw ter that. HAS to be THAT Knife, it does. Ain’t the same, nope…won’t work right at all.”

“Excuse ME,” Harry interrupted loudly, unable to believe what he was hearing as his friends discussed emasculating him as he weren’t even there, “But does anyone care to hear what I think of this idea?”

They all looked at him as he were an idiot.

Harry stared back. “Well?” He asked again.

“Ya want Seamus back, don’t’cha?” Hagrid asked in low voice, looking as if he were about to cry. “I thought ya liked ‘im an’ all.”

“Yea,” Ron agreed, looking surprised, “He’s our friend. You mean you wouldn’t do it to save ‘im?”

“I’d do it,” Darby said in a very low, pained voice. “I miss him too. He’s me only real friend in the world.”

“I am SO disappointed in you, Harry,” Hermione added. Then she sighed, as if to suggest that she knew what to do already. She usually did, though.

Harry sat there with his jaw dropped open, dumfounded. His friends were all so keen on getting him castrated, to better his Powers as a Wizard, but they all seemed to have forgotten to consult with him first! Of course, he already knew the story of The Knife of Klingsor and how it could cut certain boy Wizards to make ridiculously powerful Eunuch Wizards of them, but he’d never actually seen one until he’d seen Seamus Finnegan.

He was just about to ask Hermione what she thought when suddenly everything seemed to freeze up.

Hermione stopped in mid-word, the tea hovering in midair over Hagrid’s cup. Harry jerked his head about and saw Ron biting into a scone, the crumbs hanging in the air just below his chin. Hagrid was looking over at Darby, who sat rock still as Fang’s tongue seemed to be frozen just millimeters away from licking and soaking his face again. Harry blinked, not sure of what to do. He stood up, but no one noticed.

“Uh, Hagrid?” He asked, “Ron? Hermione? Darby? Fang?” He got up and waved a hand vigorously in front of Hagrid’s bushy, bearded face.

Nothing.

Then it came to him as he suddenly felt a stirring in his shorts. He was getting aroused, for seemingly no good reason, and then a warm hand touched his shoulder. His whole body shivered as the memory of Seamus came back to him. The touch was familiar.

He touched me like this, Harry immediately remembered, the memory so bold and clear that it was almost tangible. He recalled lying in bed, with Seamus touching him. Time had seemed to almost stop then, and Seamus had brought him off right in front of Ron, who hadn’t even noticed. He could almost see the lightly freckled little face so near his, feel his warm breath on his skin, and the impending feeling of an interior explosion began to build up within him once again. He remembered it well …

… and he also remembered that Seamus had been abducted. A sick feeling came to Harry’s stomach just then as he thought of finding him. Somehow he felt empty inside, almost incomplete. He drew a sharp little breath, almost afraid to turn around to see who had touched him. He didn’t dare hope.

Harry looked around at his frozen friends again, and then heard Seamus’ piping voice, right in his ear. “Time flies,” he’d said, or was he saying it again?

But the warm hand was still on his shoulder, and shivering in pleasure, Harry finally turned around. That warm hand on his shoulder was attached to Seamus, who seemed to have Apparated right into Hagrid’s cabin! He was standing there, naked as the day he’d been born, seemingly unaware or unconcerned of this fact. Harry looked him up and down, shaking, his eyes moving from the young eunuch’s lack of boyhood to fall upon his face and just stare. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He held onto Seamus’ hand tightly, unsure of what was going on.

“Come and get me, Harry,” Seamus said to him, his hazel-brown eyes full of unshed tears. “Don’t let ‘em hurt me, Harry. You can do it, I know you can! You-Know-Who won’t stand a chance against YOU!”

“Seamus!” Harry cried, “How … where are you? Where ARE WE?”

“Everywhere, nowhere … wherever we wanna be,” Seamus replied, looking about as if frightened that someone else would hear him.

“What?” Harry asked, confused but ecstatic and gripping Seamus’ hand tightly with no intentions of letting go again.

“I cahn’t hold it, ‘Arry,” he replied sadly, his hand slipping out of Harry’s grip. “Find me, ‘Arry. Find me before they hurt me. Please?!” He cried, tears streaming down his face. “They cahn’t go far, You-Know-Who’s too anxious. They WON’T go that far, there’s not enough time. Besides, Draco won’t survive the trip, I don’t think. You can find me, ‘Arry … I know you can. You have to stop them.”

“Yes,” said another voice from behind them, and Harry jumped at the sound of it. His skin immediately erupted in goosebumps. “You can find him. You WILL find him. You WILL stop them, if it’s the last thing that you ever do.”

He spun around, and then gasped in horror.

Standing in the doorway was Harry Potter, and Harry stared at him as if he were seeing a ghost. This ghost however, unlike the ones he was used to seeing at School, wasn’t translucent and soft looking. Harry was reminded of the Mirror of Erised as he stared at himself. Or what he thought was himself. This Harry, though, looked like the reflection from some awful mirror that surely showed only what one’s heart did NOT ever want to see.

Seamus walked over towards him, saying nothing.

“Who … what … who are YOU?” Harry asked of himself that stood in the doorway. No one else seemed to be able to see it, but then again, they all seemed to still be frozen in time as well.

The Harry who stood in the doorway was a mess.

His black hair was dirty and matted, and he looked as if he’d not slept or eaten in days. His lightning bolt scar on his forehead, a souvenir from his babyhood battle with Lord Voldemort, was broken open and bleeding. His glasses were bent and one lens broken, as was his nose. His lower lip was busted, and he was favoring his left leg as if it hurt to put weight on it. He breathed slowly, but still, Harry could hear this poor Harry’s wheezing as if he had a bad chest cold. His clothing was ragged and muddy, and most of it was covered in blood.

“I’m The Boy Who Lived,” the badly injured Harry replied mysteriously, sadly, smiling wanly at Seamus. “I’m always The Boy Who Lived.” He then reached out a hand, his right hand, but it was also soaked in blood. Seamus took it, a look of profound loss and sadness on his face.

Seamus’ other hand then moved to the battered and bloody Harry’s crotch, and as Harry looked on at them, he saw even more blood running down this odd new Harry’s pants legs. It seemed to be coming from his crotch, painting the inseams red as Seamus touched him. Harry touched his own crotch, swallowing hard again as his double grimaced in pain.

“Y-you’re a v-v-vision,” Harry accused the bloody boy in the doorway.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he replied, smiling at Seamus again. “But you know what you have to do … what WE have to do … without ME telling YOU, don’t you?” His voice was strained, and full of regret.

He’s bleeding down THERE! Harry thought, glancing back at his friends again, recalling that they’d been looking for The Knife of Klingsor.

“But The Knife … it’s gone!” Harry explained, realizing with a shock that his vision of himself, badly wounded as he was, was thinking along the same lines as his friends. “Hagrid cahn’t find it!”

The bloody Harry Potter shook his messy head. “You’ll find it, I’m sure. It’s drawn to boys like us, Harry. It WANTS us … you … just like it wanted Seamus. In the end, you’ll do it, Harry. You have to do it. You’re not strong enough.”

“Er,” the original Harry mumbled, his hands clasped over his pounding erection in fear. He thought of finding Seamus, if that were what it were to cost him, and gasped. If he had The Knife of Klingsor used on himself, then he’d be unable to do anything sexual with Seamus. He had a mental picture of them, two young eunuchs so desperate to be with other, so miserable without each other’s company, but unable to do anything but touch one another. He thought of how he felt when he got off, when Seamus touched him. He thought of Ron buggering him until he’d climaxed, and how he’d planned to do that to Seamus to duplicate that wonderful feeling of orgasm for the young eunuch who’d never know it any other way. He’d had such plans!

The bloody Harry Potter seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Isn’t THAT enough, then?” He asked in a sad voice.

Why does everyone seem so keen on castrating ME? He wondered desperately, running over the legend of Klingsor in his mind again. Seamus had the Mark, not me. Seamus had Wild Power, and they cut HIM! Why cut ME too? Grimaldi said you cahn’t have two Eunuch Wizards at once.

“Er,” Harry managed again, lost for words.

“Then you’ll have to find it before it’s too late,” the bloody Harry advised, adjusting his shattered specs and reaching for his Wand. The Wand, Harry saw, was cracked and looked like it had been badly abused as well.

“No,” Harry groaned, stepping back and taking Hagrid by the sleeve. The huge man didn’t move, though. “You’re not real. You’re not here. You cahn’t be here, and I can find Seamus on my own!”

“I ‘av ta go now,” Seamus whispered, his eyebrows (intact for once) knitted in concern as he glanced about the room again. “I love ya, ‘Arry,” he said, “Find me, OK? Find me before moonrise tomorrow night.”

And then he faded away without a sound, ruling out Disapparation. The bloody Harry Potter in the doorway slumped as if defeated, tears mixing with the blood on his face. “I’ve failed,” he sighed, slumping against the doorframe. His hand went to his blood-soaked pants, and he choked, coughing up even more blood. “It was all for nothing, then,” he wheezed, coughing as if his lungs were failing him. A chill passed over the intact Harry, and he was suddenly very, very afraid.

Harry Potter, the initial confused version, screamed.

“Wha’s this?” Hagrid demanded suddenly, shaking him as the tea splashed into his cup and Fang licked Darby again. Hermione gasped, and Ron tossed his scone.

“’Arry, wha’s wrong, now? Tell us all ‘bout it?” The huge man asked, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him a bit.

“Goin’ mental, er what?” Ron asked as if nothing were wrong.

Harry screamed again, clutching Hagrid’s sleeve in panic, and pointing at the doorway.

But there was no one there.

“Harry, please!” Someone was shouting.

Someone was shaking him. “Harry, wake up! Wake up! It’s alright, I’m here!”

Harry Potter opened his emerald eyes, and the world was fuzzy and blurred. He screamed again, and a hand clamped down over his mouth. Strong arms pulled him up – as he was lying down – and hugged him tight. A hand was moving over his back – his shirt was off – and it felt a bit rough as if it had seen work. That hand continued to rub his bare back, and those arms held him in a warm embrace. He immediately began to feel better, the panic slowly leaving him.

“Harry, what was it? Tell me!” Oliver Wood said to him in a voice almost squeaking in fear. He shook him again, softly, and let go of his mouth. He held him out at arms’ distance then, staring into his eyes. Harry could just barely make out his facial features without his specs.

“Wood!” Harry cried, falling back into his Quidditch Captain’s embrace again and holding him as if hanging on for his very life. “I … I had a bad dream! I was at Hagrid’s and … and … everyone was there! They all wanted to … wanted to …,” But Harry didn’t say ‘castrate me’, holding that part back. He didn’t think that Wood would quite understand it.

“Then … then I saw me, I mean, I had a vision, or a ghost came er something! It was me, only I was all bloody and Seamus was … he was there, Oliver!” Harry gasped, looking around as if expecting to see someone else in the small storeroom with them.

They were alone, however.

“You fell asleep, ‘Arry,” Wood assured him, still holding him tenderly and rubbing his back. “Ya had a bad dream, tha’s all.” Then he added, in a gentle tone, “They’ve not found ‘im yet. Seamus is still missin’, as ‘r you, according to Wizards’ Wireless.”

Harry looked up at him and nodded, wiping at his eyes. “I know. It was so real, though,” he mumbled, still shivering a bit.

“Well, I’d ask if ya had a good nap,” Wood said uncertainly, “But it looks like yeh dint.” He pulled off the extra larger Quidditch jersey that he’d covered Harry with and folded it. “I think ya should prob’ly be getting’ up now, Ron ‘an Darby’ll be back any minute, ya know.”

Oliver Wood’s accent and his reassuring touch made Harry feel somewhat better as the older boy helped him get dressed. Despite his nightmare, he did feel a bit better rested, though. He hopped up and raised his arms as Wood slid his T-shirt on, tickling his ribs as he went. Harry laughed, and Wood handed him his glasses. Then he just stared at him for a bit.

“You said it was only a bad dream,” Harry said then, wondering why Wood looked like he did. His face had a mysterious expression, as if he’d just unexpectedly seen a strange ghost. Not that seeing a ghost would have bothered either of them, since Hogwart’s School was full of them anyway. Still, Harry wondered what was bothering him as he stepped into the soccer shorts that Wood was holding for him.

“Dreams, fer us, aren’t often just dreams, ‘Arry,” Wood mused, touching his cheek and staring into his green eyes. “Maybe what yeh saw means sumthin’. Yeh ARE goin’ after Seamus, aren’t yeh?”

Harry thought about that as he heard the bell on the door that meant that a customer was coming into the Shoppe. “Yea, I am,” he replied, concerned now that his dream might have some hidden meaning that only a Wizard would see. He’d seen himself, battered and bloody, and Seamus had come to him crying for help. Was it his fear of failure? Simple anxiety? Or was it as the old Sorting Hat had said to him the previous year, “…a strong desire to prove yourself,”?

Then he recalled that everyone had wanted to have him castrated, and he shivered.

Wood motioned for Harry to stay in the back room, went up front, then called back, “Yeh kin come out, it’s only the boys.” He pulled his socks on, slipped into his sneakers, and went up front.

Harry came up front to see Ron and Darby standing at the counter as if waiting for him. “We’re all done,” Ron said. “Have a nice nap?”

“No,” Harry replied, looking around at the floor and behind them. “I thought you bought all Darby’s back to school stuff?”

“We did,” Ron said with a grin. “Having it shipped to Hogwart’s WPS. Cost you a pretty penny, too, it did.”

Harry looked confused. “WPS?”

“Wizards’ Parcel Service,” Wood supplied helpfully.

“Oh,” Harry answered, wondering just how much his offer to finance Darby’s First Year at Hogwart’s had cost him. Darby was standing there with a slightly red face, Vlad the fruit bat hanging from his shoulder. Wood made a strangled noise and stepped back behind Harry.

“I guess we should get going,” Harry then said. “I don’t think we need anything else.”

“Yeh sure?” Wood asked in pained voice, putting his hands on Harry’s shoulders and walking them to the door.

“I cahn’t think of anything else,” he said glumly, looking over at Darby. Only a year before, Hagrid had brought him to Diagon Alley to do his school shopping. Books, quills, parchments, ink, potion ingredients, his Wand, clothes, robes, and all of the other things that a young Wizard would need for School. He sighed heavily.

Harry didn’t feel like they’d accomplished much, though. True, Ollivander’s story about the Wands being cut with The Knife of Klingsor was interesting. Grimaldi’s story about his castrati days had been fascinating as well. However, it didn’t seem to Harry that the urgency with which they’d sought him out had done much for them or their quest. He was mulling over this when Wood suddenly ran back behind the counter and came hurrying back with Harry’s refurbished Nimbus 2000 in his hand. He handed it to the disguised Gryffindor Seeker and smiled that perfect smile that made Harry’s breath catch.

“Good as new. Better’n new, really,” Wood said modestly. “An’ try an’ take better care of ‘er this time, a’right?”

Harry flushed and nodded, not trusting himself to talk as Wood opened the door and ushered them out into the street. It was late in the afternoon, and the yellow rays of the sun were stretching the shadows and painting highlights orange and yellow. A few shoppers were still out and about, but for the most part, Diagon Alley seemed to be slowing down for the day.

“Thanks, Oliver,” Ron said, shaking his hand. Darby did the same. As they turned to go, Wood knelt down to stare Harry in the face. He placed his hands on his shoulders again and squeezed. It made Harry feel warm.

“Be careful,” he warned him. “I’m not goin’ to turn ya’s in, ya know, but you damn well better bring Seamus back in one piece by tomorrow night! Send that miserable bat with a note if’n ya need help, right?”

“OK,” Harry managed, as Wood ran his hands up over his ears and down his cheeks to hold him by the chin as he usually did when he was lecturing about Quidditch. Then he kissed Harry’s forehead and stood back up. He reached into his pocket and handed Harry a parchment.

“Spells ya might need that no other Second Year boy would know,” Wood said with a smile. “Even a trackin’ Spell, to find Seamus! It NEVER goes wrong! Bloodhound Spell, it is!”

Harry nearly fainted, and his whole body was warm. He watched Wood turn and go back into the Shoppe, and then he turned as well to follow Ron and Darby. He knew the story of Seamus’ Wand, and Darby’s as well. He knew of Grimaldi’s past, the practice of castrating young boys for various reasons, and he recalled his dream. The warm feeling that Wood had given him left him then, and he caught up to his friends with a determined stride. His Broomstick was repaired, all three of them were armed, and he was suddenly very angry as the vision of himself – all battered and bloody – flashed though his mind once again.

“Gods help anyone who gets in MY way,” Harry mumbled. “I’m coming, Seamus,” he breathed, clutching the paper that Oliver Wood had given him in his hand.

He didn’t notice the two old men watching them go as they stood outside the doors to their Shoppes. When the boys had passed, Ollivander waved across the way to Grimaldi, who waved back, shaking his head.

Neither one of them sent an owl nor a Floo message to Albus Dumbledore, however. They’d both had some strange customers that day, and neither of them was quite sure what to make of it. It had been a LONG day, though, and it promised to be a longer one the next.

“Seamus Finnegan’s, Waterville, Ireland!” Harry shouted as the three boys stepped into the dancing green flames of the Floo at The Leaky Cauldron Tavern. They’d decided to ask Tom, the toothless owner of the place, if they could borrow his Floo for the trip back, and he’d been more than happy to oblige. He’d even stoked the fire and supplied the Floo powder for them. He watched the three boys, one fruit bat, several shopping receipts, and one Broomstick vanish up the Floo with a smile. He’d then turned the bar over to his competent and buxom barmaids, and gone upstairs.

“Albus?” He called, peering into the green flames of his own Floo in his private suite.

Dumbledore’s wizened old face appeared a few seconds later, his crooked nose almost poking out into the room. Minerva McGonagall was also beside him, a hand on his shoulder and peering in as if reading the paper over it.

“News of the boys, Tom?” Dumbledore asked anxiously.

Tom nodded. “They went to Ollivander’s, bought the little newbie lad a Wand. Ollie tells me it’s the near-brother Wand to Finnegan’s, cut by The Knife of Klingsor from a young cedar growing near the Tree of Life. Whiskers from Odin’s Hounds in both of ‘em at the cores. Then they went to Grimaldi’s and the old coot chattered at them all day long. Don’t know if they bought any music, though. You know how that old codger is.”

“Grimaldi would have said volumes without them even knowing it right then,” McGonagall stated primly. “They just don’t know it yet. Then where?”

“Then they went over to Quality Quidditch Supply and Dudley … Harry … if you will … got his Broomstick patched up. The other two went shoppin’ and the little one has a fruit bat. Ugly brute. Should’a got an owl.”

“That’s bound to upset the owlrey,” Dumbledore mused, grinning. McGonagall smiled at him.

“The boy wants to be different, Albus,” she said softly, grinning back.

“WILL you two stop that?” Tom said shortly as the two old Professors stared warmly at one another. “Anyways, seems Harry fell asleep in Wood’s care while the other two shopped. Bought the lot, they did, WPS is a’gonna hate them before it’s over.”

“Harry fell asleep?” Dumbledore asked, seemingly amazed. “That boy hardly ever sleeps!”

Tom nodded. “Wood called me up, said he’d just dropped over, exhausted.”

“I’m sure that Wood took good care of him,” McGonagall supplied primly. “He’s very protective of the littler Gryffindors, you know.”

Tom cleared his throat. “So, here we are. I just sent ‘em of via the Floo.”

“Where are they off to now?” Dumbledore asked, with a great deal of interest.

“Waterville, Ireland, back to Finnegan’s house.”

“Just as we anticipated,” McGonagall agreed, smiling a moony smile at the old man.

“Thank you, Tom,” Dumbledore managed, and they both vanished.

Draco Malfoy yawned and stretched, rousing himself from the back seat of the large black Rolls. He’d taken a nap that afternoon, feeling unusually tired after the ride deep into the countryside with his Father and Mr. Riddle. He’d recalled sitting next to Riddle in the back seat, feeling warm and happy in his embrace, when he’d just fallen asleep. It wasn’t like him, though, and he wondered why he felt so run down. After everything that Madam Pomfrey had done to him in the Hospital Wing while his Father was rooting about in the Library at Hogwart’s, he couldn’t imagine that he was getting sick. He got up stiffly, got out of the car, and looked around.

The sun was going down, and the shadows were lengthening. Draco turned this way and that and saw nothing but trees around the open meadow they had driven to. He turned back around the other way, and saw a run down and lonely looking little church. The windows were all broken out, several shingles were missing from the roof, and the battered old steeple reached up towards the sky as if longing to someday finally fall from its lonely and futile perch. Several planks of siding were missing from its walls, and the stone foundation was cracked with weeds growing up around it.

To the back of the sad little church was a graveyard full of old and interesting headstones, many of them topped with statues of angels and crosses. Remnants of long dead spring flowers waved in the breeze, dead stalks standing useless vigil over their dead masters. The breeze was quite cool out in the country, and the boy pulled his hood up over his white hair and drew his robe tighter about him. Draco snorted and looked around for his Father or Mr. Riddle, feeling suddenly alone and frightened.

He didn’t see them anywhere.

“Father?” He called out.

Only the cry of an occasional bird answered him.

“Mr. Riddle?”

Silence.

Never the one to admit that he was scared, Draco Malfoy pulled his Wand out and went around to the back of the Rolls. He knew why they were there, and he tapped the deck lid of the car with his Wand. It sprang open to reveal a spare tire, a few packs of necessities, and Seamus Finnegan.

The Irish lad was curled up in the trunk, stunned, with a spare black robe thrown over him for warmth. Draco pulled the robe off, pausing for a bit to stare at the naked boy. His hand wandered to his own crotch as he looked at Seamus. Both of them were eunuchs, and Malfoy wondered if the cut with The Knife of Klingsor had been more painful than his own slow and torturous emasculation. He gasped as his hand pressed against his crotch through his robes, a warm feeling of euphoria coming over him. He wondered if Finnegan felt the same way when he touched himself.

He also wondered who was more powerful.

“Get up, Mudblood,” Malfoy suddenly snapped at him, poking him in the ribs with his Wand. Seamus didn’t move, however. “Oh, right,” Malfoy realized. “Ennervate, he said, and a soft jet of white light shot from his Wand at Seamus, waking him up from the stunning Spell that his Father had hit him with not long ago.

Seamus groaned and raised his aching head up and looked around, blinking. He rubbed his eyes as Draco stared at him. “Wh-where am I?” He groaned, his head hurting and his body stiff from the confinement of the trunk.

“How the hell should I know? I don’t know where ‘I’ am,” Malfoy replied with a sneer. “Just get up, stretch, and make me sure you’re still alright. Father will have my head if anything happens to you, you know.”

Seamus blinked a few more times, getting his bearings. He was ashamed of his nakedness and emasculation in front of Draco Malfoy, and his face flamed. He looked around, and saw that it was late in the evening, wondering how long he’d been stunned. He made his way up to the edge of the trunk, sitting with his feet on the bumper and looking around.

“Peaceful,” he said in a quiet voice.

“What?” Malfoy replied, “This place? It’s so … so … boring!” He managed, for lack of a better word.

“I like quiet places,” Seamus replied, and Draco snorted at him.

“A fine cap to MY summer holiday,” he complained. “After all I went through, being punished, being sick, then getting stuck babysitting YOU,” he went on. But Seamus noticed that he was gripping his Wand tightly and keeping a close eye on him.

Seamus stared at him, noticing how bad the Slytherin boy looked. His cheeks were sunken and gray, and his colorless eyes dull. His hair looked dry, and he was very thin. “You were sick?” He asked softly. “I’m sorry.”

“What would you know about it?” Draco snapped back at him. “Just get up and move about, like Father said to let you do. When they come back, I’ll guess we’ll have to feed you, to.”

Seamus reached back into the trunk and wrapped up in the spare robe again. It was obviously one that Draco had outgrown, but it still fit his small frame. He shivered a bit. “I lost most of my last summer to being ill,” Seamus offered.

“And do I care?” Draco asked sarcastically, as Seamus got up on wobbly legs and took a few steps.

“Furnunculus! Draco then shouted, firing his Wand at Seamus’ legs, which immediately gave out under the Jelly Legs Curse. Seamus fell to the ground in surprise, his legs too weak to hold him.

“What did’ja do that fer?” He asked in shock.

“To make sure you don’t run off,” Malfoy snapped. “Taking no chances.”

“Don’t damage the merchandise,” a cold voice said from behind them. Draco spun around and saw his Father. He looked down at his feet, his heart hammering.

“I just … I thought that …” he tried to explain, as Seamus sat up, glaring at Lucius Malfoy with murder flashing in his soft brown eyes.

“Mr. Riddle will not be pleased if you harm the Eunuch Wizard,” Lucius Malfoy stated in a level tone. “He’s far too valuable. YOU should know that, Draco.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco said meekly, his attention strangely drawn to the abandoned church.

Just then, as he looked up, a dark figure seemed to drift out of the broken doorway of the church. Draco felt a pleasurable shiver pass over him, and he felt the need to run to it. He took a step forward, but the dark figure was suddenly standing right next to his father.

“Hello, boys,” Mr. Riddle said, and Seamus gasped, crawling backwards in panic. Draco Malfoy he felt he could handle, with or without a Wand. This figure, however, made his blood run cold as it stared at him from under its black hood with beady red eyes. Unable to get his weakened legs to work properly, Seamus scooted back on the grass as best he could, shaking his head and breathing hard. The dark figure was staring at him, floating in midair just a Lucius Malfoy’s side with no discernable body.

“This is the one then,” Riddle said longingly, looking over at Draco.

“Yes, sir,” the pale boy replied, stepping up next to him, but keeping his Wand aimed at Seamus.

“Open your robe, boy,” Riddle ordered, but Seamus didn’t move. He stared into those red eyes, afraid – yet becoming angry at the same time. His anger boiled up within him, his stomach churned, and his chest began to ache.

“No!” He snapped at him, getting to his feet and wobbling as he fought to throw off the Jelly Legs Curse.

Riddle seemed to be amused, and Seamus could feel his Dark Power coming off of him in waves. It pressed against him like the breeze, and Draco groaned. He slumped against his father, who held him up as Riddle advanced upon Seamus.

“I said open your robe, Eunuch Wizard! Let me see what I’ve paid so dearly for!”

“I won’t!” Seamus snapped back at him, suddenly angrier than he’d been when they’d first taken him. They’d come and interrupted his summer, tried to kill Darby, stunned him, stuffed him in the trunk of the car, and taken him to who-knew-where. All things considered, Seamus Finnegan was NOT a happy camper at that moment.

“You WILL! Imperio!” Riddle barked, flicking a Wand out of his sleeve.

The all-controlling Imperius Curse hit Seamus again, and he shook his head as a feeling of complete utter happiness swept over him. All he had to do was open his robe and show Riddle his emasculation, prove that he was indeed a Eunuch Wizard. Then they’d all be happy and he could just go home and everything would be fine.

Then another part of his mind, the pissed off part, spoke up.

I will NOT! It said indignantly, mightily offended. What am I, a sideshow freak?!

“I won’t,” Seamus said again, calmly, drawing himself up as Draco whimpered and collapsed into his father’s arms. Riddle was drawing himself up as well, and Seamus finally made the correlation.

He’s using him, he realized with a shock, He’s in such bad shape that he’s sucking the Power and Life right out of him!

As much as he didn’t like Draco Malfoy, confronted with the possibility of seeing him injured – or perhaps killed – by Riddle, Seamus let down his Will and complied. His fingers undid the front of Draco’s old robe and he opened it.

Riddle gasped. “Excellent,” he breathed, as Draco raised his pale head and rubbed at his temples. He looked quite ill.

“Satisfied?” Seamus asked in a defiant tone.

“You have no idea,” Riddle replied in a hissing voice. “Tie him up and let us prepare!”

Still angry and now frightened again as well, Seamus threw off the Jelly Legs Curse and bolted. A sizzling bolt of energy ripped past him to fly off into the trees. He had no idea where he was going, but every ounce of energy was fixed upon running away. He could hear Riddle and Malfoy shouting behind him, firing Curses from the Wands as he ran. He changed direction and ran harder, his bare feet pounding at the grass and Draco’s old robe flapping at his back. He dodged behind a tree just a Stupefying Curse hit it, sending bark in all directions. Glancing about at the ground, he spied a rock and picked it up, panting, as he leaned on the tree. If he didn’t have his Wand and couldn’t act like a Wizard, then he’d resort to some of Darby’s Muggle tricks.

One thing that he COULD do, however, was to slow things down a bit. Seamus drew himself up and let it out, peeking around the tree to see Lucius Malfoy running in slow motion. He aimed the rock at him and threw hard, willing it to hit his Wand hand.

The rock flew towards its target, and knocked the Wand from Lucius Malfoy’s hand. Riddle, however, was still advancing upon him, unaffected. “I knew a boy in School once who could do that, too,” he hissed, and Seamus took flight once again. He didn’t look back, but he knew that with Riddle in pursuit of him, Draco must be suffering for it. Still, he ran, ‘letting go’ of his hold on Time as he did.

He heard Mr. Malfoy curse in pain, and another blast of energy flew by his head. Riddle was a much better shot than Draco had been, and Seamus knew that he probably wasn’t going to get away. Faced with the prospect of trying to outrun him, yet still concerned for Draco’s well being, Seamus ran. He reached the edge of the grass and headed into the trees just as another blast went by him to strike the ground. Suddenly his ankle was on fire, and he went down with a cry of pain.

Riddle had blasted a hole in the turf, and Seamus had stepped in it. He jumped back up, but his badly sprained ankle wouldn’t hold him.

“You are beginning to irritate me, Mudblood,” Riddle snapped, Disapparating him back to Lucius Malfoy with a loud BANG! Malfoy was ready for it, and grabbed Seamus by the nape of the neck.

“Do that again and I promise you, Finnegan, that I will BREAK both of your legs to keep you from running again! And don’t even THINK about doing that Time trick again. Mr. Riddle is getting angry with you, and Draco’s getting very tired.”

Seamus shook off the disorientation and saw murder flashing in Malfoy’s eyes. He looked down and saw that Draco had passed out and was laying in the grass, unnoticed. “Yea, I’m not the one who’s going to totally ruin Voldemort, anyway,” Seamus mumbled, revolted at the thought of what Riddle – Voldemort, he realized – was doing to Draco.

“Brave words,” Malfoy spat. “Perhaps you’re smarter than I give you credit for, even if you’re not a Pureblood. I cahn’t wait until the Dark Lord finishes with you, so that I can have a go at you! Now, come on!”

Shoulders slumped in defeat, Seamus nodded. Malfoy then led the limping boy over to the churchyard as Riddle gathered up the unconscious Draco and followed. “We’ll see how much fight is really in you tomorrow night,” Malfoy promised him as they entered the rows and rows of headstones. “When the full moon rises, that is.”

He then dropped Seamus in front of a large obelisk shaped stone and drew his Wand. He jerked the robe off of Seamus and tossed it aside with his other hand. Coil after coil of itchy rough rope shot from the end of the Wand, wrapping Seamus from neck to toe like a mummy bound to the stone. When he was secured, Malfoy tore a strip from the robe, wadded it up, and stuck it in his mouth. He then tore another strip, wrapping it around the boy’s head so that he couldn’t spit the gag out. “That should hold him, Master,” Malfoy stated, looking satisfied with his work. Seamus glared at him.

Lucius Malfoy drew his arm back so suddenly that Seamus didn’t even see it coming. His open palm connected with the boy’s gagged mouth, leaving a large red handprint that brought immediate tears to Seamus’ eyes. “THAT was for being insolent,” he snapped, turning to walk away.

“What I do not understand,” Riddle was saying as they walked away to leave Seamus alone, “Is why he gave up. He could have held onto that trick of his and possibly run me down, even with his bad ankle. He’s got Power, that one. Power that I want!”

Lucius Malfoy’s face went strange as he looked at the limp form of Draco, which Riddle had deposited on the old church’s steps. “I think he knows, my Lord,” he replied. “I think he realized where your energies were coming from, and who you really are.”

“Interesting,” Riddle hissed, grinning an evil grin. “Finnegan, a Gryffindor who doesn’t even LIKE your Slytherin son, gave up because he was afraid that I would hurt him in using up his Powers? How do YOU feel about that, Lucius? Why haven’t YOU done anything about it?”

Malfoy didn’t hesitate with his reply. “If I must give up my only son, my Lord, for the cause, then so be it. His sacrifice will not be forgotten when YOU return to Power.”

Riddle grinned, his red eyes flashing as he drifted over towards the church steps. “Soon,” he breathed, touching the unconscious Draco’s cheek and running his leprous looking hand down to unbutton the boy’s robe. “Soon you’ll feel so good that you’ll utterly die of pleasure!” Riddle promised him, breathing in deeply.

Harry, Ron and Darby – along with Vlad and Harry’s Nimbus 2000 – came shooting out of the Floo at Seamus’ house and tumbled out in a puff of smoke and ash. Vlad seemed to dislike that method of travel as much as Hedwig had, and flapped up towards the cathedral ceiling of the parlor. He took to hanging on a wooden beam, sniffing and sneezing in disgust. It appeared that no one was at home.

“Hello?” Harry called out. “Mrs. Finnegan? Are you at home?”

Silence.

Ron glanced around at the parlor, his mouth open. “This house must be HUGE!” He breathed, comparing it to the cramped little rooms of his own house. In fact, the parlor was so large that his voice echoed. The tall windows that ran almost halfway up the length of the papered-over plaster walls were filling the room with warm yellow light through their shades, and the hardwood floor gleamed as if just begging to be slid upon.

“It is,” Darby stated, dusting himself off and heading for the tall double doors that led into the front room. “C’mon. I figure Mrs. Finnegan is still at the Kearnys’. Ya got any ideas, Harry?”

Harry held up the parchment that Oliver had given him and studied it carefully. “We need something of Seamus’, something close to him, that he touched last,” Harry said in a determined voice that made the tiny hairs on the nape of Ron’s neck stand up. “Something that’s sure to carry his, er, personality on it.”

“Follow me,” Darby stated, leading them out of the front room and over to a doorway where the landing of an ornately carved staircase was only visible if you looked at it from the correct angle. “Watch this,” Darby told them proudly, hopping up to sit on the polished banister. Harry and Ron soon saw why it was so highly polished, as the small boy suddenly slid UP the banister at an alarming rate of speed. “Seamus’ folks don’ know ‘bout that one!” He laughed when he’d reached the top. Harry and Ron followed suit, and Darby led them to Seamus’ room.

“This is creepy,” Ron observed, looking around at the semi-organized chaos that was the defining element of every young boy’s bedroom worldwide.

“I feel like I’m trespassing,” Harry whispered, afraid to touch anything.

“Shouldn’t we tell ‘em we’re back?” Ron asked, looking around as if he expected something to reach out and grab him.

“No,” Harry replied. “They might’ve changed their minds and decided to turn us in. We need to find something to use to track Seamus with, and then I’m going out after him.”

“You’re going out after him?” Ron asked in a sarcastic voice. “What am I doing here then?”

Harry didn’t look at his best friend. Instead, he walked over to Seamus’ chest of drawers and began rooting about. “These are all clean,” he complained, “Darby, where’s his laundry hamper?”

The smaller boy walked over to a basket at the end of Seamus’ rumpled twin bed and pulled the lid off, wrinkling his nose. He pulled out a pair of Gryffindor printed briefs and held them up with two fingers, far away from his face, at arm’s length.

“How rude!” Ron said, pulling a face as well.

“Perfect,” Harry disagreed, “Throw ‘em here.”

Darby did that, and Harry caught them, almost without looking as he was glancing about the room. “Nice catch,” Ron observed dryly, with a note of disgust in his voice. “We’ve got dirty underwear. Look out, Dark Wizards, here we come!”

But Harry waved him off, clutching the briefs (which smelled faintly of sweat and grass and dust) in his hand as he looked around. Seamus’ unmade twin bed was pushed up into a corner, facing the doorway so that he could look up and see out of it. It looked as if it had recently been slept in; the pillow was even slightly flat in the center. Two windows, each as tall as the high ceiling and with broad sills, broke up the south wall. There was one window like them at the head of Seamus’ bed, which ended in a carved bookcase headboard filled with books and other oddities that only a little boy would collect.

There were interesting rocks, oddly shaped pieces of wood, a few little models and figurines, and a stack of Bertie Bott’s Trading Cards scattered on the first shelf along with some of Seamus’ favorite books. In addition, Harry saw what looked like a broken talon from some odd beast and a cracked long crystal of blue quartz. On the second shelf was a framed picture of Seamus and his parents, but it wasn’t moving. It was obviously a Muggle photo, taken at his father’s insistence, Harry was certain. Next to it was a small beret of blue felt with a yellow band that Harry didn’t recognize, and an old black half-mask from some long forgotten childhood Halloween costume. Then he saw the picture, a color 5x7 framed in polished gold, next to a stack of Marvin the Mad Muggle comic books. The gold frame was covered in little fingerprints, looking as if it had been recently handled.

“Ron,” Harry whispered, his voice catching as he pointed at it. “Look!”

There on the second shelf of the headboard, as if complimenting his family portrait, was a picture of Seamus and Harry together. They were just boarding the Hogwart’s Express, and the Harry Potter in the picture was reaching down with his bandaged right hand to offer it to Seamus to climb up. Obviously, someone had taken it unawares and sent Seamus a copy. As they watched, photo-Harry heaved photo-Seamus up over the first step of the train car’s landing and caught him in his arms. Both boys were smiling, and then turning to wave goodbye at someone else out of the image.

“Wow,” Darby breathed, “Tha’s a good shot. It moves an’ all. Never seen one move with so much detail, though. I likened to died firs’ time I e’er saw a picture moving’, though.”

Harry felt as if his stomach had fallen out as he stared at the picture. It was like there was nothing inside of him but a vast, empty cavity. His chest ached, and he suddenly felt dizzy. He sat down heavily upon Seamus’ rumpled bed, very near to tears again. Ron sat down next to him, and put his arm around his best friend’s shoulders. Harry didn’t say anything, however. He simply pulled his Wand out of his pocket and handed it to Ron. Ron took it in his free hand, giving Harry an odd look as he tied Seamus’ briefs in a knot around the end of it, about an inch from the tip. He then took it back.

“I’ll wait until dark, and then head out on my Broomstick. When I’ve located him, I’ll come back for you. IF there’s time.”

But Ron was shaking his head. “Oh, no you don’t! You’re not ditching us now! Our arses are already fried, ya know, jus’ fer goin’ with you in the first place! We’re all in this together, Harry!” Ron informed him bluntly.

“Yea,” Darby agreed. “He’s MY friend too!”

“We’ve only got one Broomstick, though,” Harry pointed out. “Yours is still at the Kearneys’,” Harry reminded him, “And we don’t wanna risk going back there.”

But Darby was looking as if he were about to explode. “We’ve got bikes, though. They’re either still at the lake or back here. Either way, I know the Spell that Seamus’ mum uses all the time to get stuff away from us that we’re not supposed to have. I can bring ‘em here, I bet!” He proudly held up his new cedar Wand and waved it about, grinning, as Ron and Harry ducked.

“Blimey!” Ron yelped, “Watch it, now! You’ll take someone’s eye out! Oh, Gods, I’ve turned into Hermione!” He moaned, running a hand down his freckley face.

They all laughed at that for a bit.

“Anyways, we can roam about on bikes while YOU fly,” Darby explained. “’sides, I don’ like flyin’. I don’ like Floo’in’ either.”

“You’re in fer a rough life, then,” Ron informed him, smiling. “You’re not a Muggle anymore, kid.”

Darby sighed, and his grin faded. “I know. I wanted to be a Wizard like Seamus fer so long. Now I’m not too sure.”

“Well, make like one and find those bikes,” Ron told him, as they all got up and headed down the stairs via the banister, which seemed to go both ways. When they arrived outside, they bikes were nowhere to be seen, though.

“Here goes,” Darby said, taking a deep breath. “Accio Bikes!” He cried, waving his new Wand and scattering what looked like glowing dust out the end of it. The evening breeze carried it away, and they waited. And they waited. The sun was beginning to set. “Must still be at the pond,” Darby mused. “Takes a bit.”

“Shit, we’ll get a warning letter now,” Harry remembered, slapping his own forehead, “I forgot! When Dobby the house elf did that one at Privet Drive, that Hover Spell, I got one! They’ll know RIGHT where we are!”

“Nope,” Ron disagreed. “Wizard House, no Muggles about, and this might be called an emergency. We’re safe, according to dad. He wrote most of the laws, ya know.”

A few moments later, as Darby stared off into the gathering gloom, his and Seamus’ bikes came peddling up the drive, raising a small cloud of dust.

“Tha’s creepy,” Ron mused, grinning. “But it’s your first successful Spell, Darby! Congratulations!” He cried, slapping the smaller boy’s back. “Now, how do you ride one?”

Darby sighed as the bikes rolled up to them and he grabbed his own as Ron took Seamus’. “You mean YOU don’t know either?” He asked in exasperation.

“I fly,” Ron defended himself, “Wizards ride Broomsticks, not bikes.”

“Seamus rides a bike, too,” Darby replied, as Harry mounted his Broomstick. It was almost dark enough. Then Darby looked away, somewhat abashed. “You uh, don’ really ‘av to do nothin’. Jus’ sit it like a Broomstick. Yer on Seamus’ bike, and it’s, er, kinda enchanted. He did mine too, but I never use it like that. Felt like cheatin’ to me.”

Ron got on, fidgeting on the seat. He glanced down at the top bar that was a constant to all boys’ bikes and raised an eyebrow. “Bad place to put THAT, what?” He observed, “Looks like all it’s good fer is smashin’ yer balls!” He then seized the handlebars, and the bike began to move by itself. Following Darby’s advice, he pretended that it was a Broomstick and balanced himself. In seconds, he had the hang of it as the enchanted bike peddled itself. “Wicked!” He cried in delight, “I want one of these!”

Harry shook his head. “Your dad would just shit,” he informed Ron, who’s father worked for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department at the Ministry of Magic.

Harry’s cousin Dudley had a bike, but he was too fat and lazy to ride it. He’d turned it over to Harry after he’d wrecked it the first day, bending the front rim, but Harry was glad to have it. He’d neglected to tell anyone that the front rim had mysteriously straightened itself out the first time he’d ridden it. He watched Ron for a bit, riding up and down the drive and acting like he was peddling, and then kicked off from the ground. Darby cringed.

As he rose into the cooling night air, all of Harry’s worries and concerns vanished. He was back on his Broomstick, where he belonged. He imagined playing Quidditch, only instead of the Golden Snitch, he was Seeking Seamus. He breathed deeply, his body becoming one with the Broomstick as he soared higher. He looked down and saw the huge old house shrinking down to toy size, and he smiled in delight. There was nothing like flying, Harry thought. He loved it. He then pulled out his Wand (with Seamus’ briefs tied on the tip of it), mounted it on the end of his Broomstick (just at the gold Nimbus 2000 lettering) with a Sticky Charm, and uttered the Bloodhound Spell that Oliver had given him.

“Expetoitum, Seamus Finnegan!” He cried, and his Broomstick immediately lurched to the south/southeast and began to accelerate. He then felt a tapping on his shoulder, and realized that Ron was on the ground trying to get his attention with the Attentio Spell. Harry dived.

“Darby had an idea,” Ron told him breathlessly when he’d landed. “Any luck? I heard the Spell you called out! Cool! Did it work?!”

Harry’s broad smile was all the answer that Ron needed as Darby handed him a small yellow radio. “Walkie-Talkies!” Harry gasped. “Great idea!”

“The kid’s a true ex-Muggle, a’right,” Ron laughed, as Harry took to the skies again, his Broomstick pulling him towards where Seamus must be as the last light faded from the sky and the stars began to come out.

I’m coming, Seamus, Harry thought, almost willing his thoughts out, imagining that the night winds would carry them to wherever the Bloodhound Spell was leading him to, to let Seamus know that he was coming for him. Not one more night of this, Harry thought, dreaming of holding Seamus in his arms again. He started to get aroused at the thought, his erection rubbing uncomfortably at his Broomstick handle.

He’d been flying and talking to Ron and Darby with the walkie-talkies for about two hours when the Nimbus 2000 suddenly began a power dive. Harry grabbed hold of it in surprise, steadying it, nearly dropping his radio. It was totally dark, but there was quite enough light from the very nearly full moon to see by. Harry doubted that anyone could see him, and figured that they wouldn’t think much of Ron and Darby if they saw them. Most of the few neighbors, it seemed, had gone to bed, though. On the road far below, he could just make out the dim shapes of his friends riding along a one-lane packed dirt road by the faint silvery light. Then he heard flapping. He turned to see Vlad, Darby’s huge fruit bat, ghosting along beside him with what seemed to be a smile on his face.

“Hello, Vlad,” Harry greeted him, only to be suddenly buffeted about the head by something soft and white. It was Hedwig, who carefully and skillfully landed on the shaft of the still-diving Broomstick. She was holding a letter in her talons and a dead vole in her beak, and she looked a bit miffed. “Hedwig, what are you doing here?”

The owl looked at Harry as if he were totally mental.

“I’m coming down, guys,” Harry radioed them, “I’ve got company up here!”

“Lumos!” Harry heard Ron say over the radio, and a small point of blue light appeared on the road below him. He swooped down and landed as Ron and Darby stopped at the side of the road.

“Vlad!” The smaller boy cried out as the bat came down to land on his outstretched arm. He stroked Vlad’s furry head, and the bat squeaked in delight. Hedwig, however, who had taken up residence on Harry’s shoulder, hooted angrily at him once he’d taken the letter and deposited the dead vole in his breast pocket. She cast a reproachful look at Vlad and began preening.

“I thought Hedwig was staying with Hermione?” Ron asked.

“She WAS,” Harry replied, “But obviously Hermione felt the need to write BACK!”

Hedwig ignored him as he read the letter aloud.

Hedwig bobbed her head in acknowledgement and hooted, taking the dead vole back out of Harry’s pocket and munching it.

“Turncoat,” Ron muttered.

Hedwig ignored him as well.

“We’re close though,” Harry said triumphantly. “Just now, the Broomstick wanted to dive, and dive hard. What’s around here, Darby?”

“Only the old church and cemetery,” Darby replied, still petting Vlad. “No one ever goes there anymore, it’s been abandoned fer years.”

“Perfect place to hide, then,” Ron said. “We’ve not passed a house fer miles. No one would know they were there.”

“In my dream,” Harry thought aloud, “Seamus told me they wouldn’t … they couldn’t … go very far because they didn’t have time. That and something about Draco.”

“I cahn’t wait to see HIM,” Ron growled, cracking his knuckles and licking his lips.

“I think we’re going to drop by the old church and pay them a visit then,” Harry said in a flat voice. “The Broomstick’s about to take off without me, and it’s warm. We MUST be getting close!”

“How far?” Ron asked Darby.

“Just over the next hill,” Darby replied, pointing down the road at what looked to be a steady slope down after a minor rise in the road.

Harry thought for a moment. “It’s really hard to see from up there. We need someone who can see in the dark really well and fly to go spy it out, I think. I mean, boys out here at this time of night might attract attention.”

Vlad squeaked at him as if he’d understood his words, and Hedwig hissed at him.

“Hedwig, darling,” Harry reassured her, “You’re a white bird. You’ll practically glow in the dark under this moonlight. Besides, no one’s going to think twice about a bat flying around an old building at night, now are they?”

Hedwig ignored him and began preening again. Harry sighed.

“Go, Vlad!” Darby said to the large bat, and Vlad took off. “They lady at the Magical Menagerie said he was REALLY smart,” the small boy said, beaming with pride.

Hedwig ignored HIM as well.

They all sat down in the tall grass under a large ash tree near the side of the road and waited for Vlad to return. No one said a thing, but the excitement coming off of them was almost tangible. Harry checked his watch several times. It was nearing Midnight as the nearly full moon reached its apex, bathing the countryside in a soft silver glow. Crickets chirped, night birds called, and occasional ordinary bat flitted by in pursuit of insects. From an unseen pond somewhere nearby, frogs croaked loudly.

“Look!” Darby said suddenly in a high squeak, pointing up at the bright moon.

A huge black shape was passing in front of it, 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 thought the noise that it was making sounded somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t place the low thrumming sound as the huge figure passed into the dark sky. Two smaller shapes then followed it, Broomsticks with riders, their cloaks flapping out behind them.

“Wonder if they’re out lookin’ fer Seamus, too?” Darby whispered.

“Or lookin’ fer US!” Ron disagreed.

Just then, Vlad came gliding down to settle on Darby’s shoulder, so quiet that it almost seemed that he’d Apparated. Darby jumped and yelped, as did Ron and Harry. Hedwig glared at the large bat, indignantly, as if offended when he licked the boy’s ear with his long tongue.

“And I suppose nipping ME is more dignified?” Harry asked her. Hedwig nipped his nose.

Vlad, however, was twitching his large ears and squeaking as if trying to master the art of speech. He flapped his long wings, prancing about and nearly falling off of Darby’s shoulder in the process. He then dug his claws into the boy’s sleeve and began to flap, as if trying to say, “Let’s go, get up!”

“I think he found somethin’,” Ron observed. Then he thought of something. “Vlad,” he said, and the fruit bat turned to stare at him with his huge yellow eyes. Ron tapped his nose, then reached over to touch the bat’s nose. “Did you smell anything? Bat’s have really good noses, ya know.” He then reached for Harry’s Broomstick, where Seamus’ briefs were attached to the Wand at the tip. Vlad went wild, squeaking excitedly and flapping his wings, pausing only long enough to nod his furry head at Ron.

“That’s it then,” Harry said in a voice that quieted the excited bat and made Ron and Darby stare at him. He stood up, running a hand over his spiky and short blonde hair. “I cahn’t ask either of you to go any further.”

“Screw that!” Ron cried, jumping up and heading for the bikes. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go get ‘im!”

Darby got up as well, a look on his little face that made Harry’s blood run cold. Hedwig and Vlad took the sky again, and the small boy pulled out his new Wand. His blue eyes glittered in the moonlight as he stared at it, and for a brief moment, Harry was reminded of the tale that Ollivander had told them about the strange boy in the Norse woods that had brought him the stick that was to become this Wand. “I want my friend back,” he growled. “Let’s go!”

Harry nodded and mounted his Nimbus. “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!”

“I can see it,” Harry whispered into the walkie-talkie as he hovered high above the abandoned little church with Hedwig fluttering at his side. “There’s a big black car parked near the church, and a bit of light coming out one of the windows.”

“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 molded 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.

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!”

“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.

“Ron,” he 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!”

“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!”

“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!”

“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 Harry slipped out of from the trees and crept down the row of gravestones. 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!

Harry’s hidden lightning bolt scar, disguised by Mrs. Finnegan’s Magical makeup job, began to burn and sting then. 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 Harry saw his baleful red eyes glowing from beneath his black hood. He stared down the row of stones where Harry sat, hidden, watching and hardly daring to breath.

Harry swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his throat. 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. He bit his lip and tried not to cry out as the pain stabbed through his head.

“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!”

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 Harry waited.

“I’m not doin’ it, Charlie!” He then heard Ron’s voice ring out 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 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 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.

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. Harry’s eyes wandered up and down his frame, and he 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.

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

“C’mon,” 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, and 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.

They had gone about three quarters of the way down the row of stones when Harry suddenly felt a foot in the small of his back and a tap on his shoulder. He heart sank.

“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.

Harry reacted instinctively. He shoved Seamus aside and jumped up, Wand blazing in one hand and radio in the other. “NOW would be a good time!” He screamed into the radio, as a bolt of green light shot from Draco’s Wand at him. He fired back, and the blasts deflected one another, shattering a nearby gravestone to rubble.

Seamus rolled behind another large stone, unarmed. He had no idea where his own Wand was, but he didn’t really need it. He was just about to pull his favorite trick again, wondering who had come to save him, when an ear-splitting cry tore through the night. The door of the old church burst open as Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort came running outside, 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!

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.

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 were still blasting away at one another as Darby cleared the rolls to land in the gravel. He slid the back fork 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 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.

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, as Seamus grabbed a piece of the shattered 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 screamed as Voldemort went down bleeding.

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

Harry took the opportunity to introduce himself then, as Draco rolled on the wet grass, trying to recover his wits 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!”

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 Harry wanted nothing more than to plant his mouth over that smile. About then, however, Draco jumped back up and shouted “Furnunculus!.

Harry jumped aside, but the Jelly Legs curse nipped his left shin. His one leg went limp on him, but then as Draco seemed to be about to Curse him again, 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. Draco spun around and aimed at her, but Seamus was faster. He chucked the stone at Draco, and it hit the back of his head hard, knocking him silly as blood fountained out of the deep gash. Hedwig veered off, clicking her beak.

”Take that!” Seamus snapped, as a gust of cold wind swept over the scene. Harry looked up, his scar burning, to see The Dark Lord rising up above the ground. He’d taken 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 whimpering. Vlad swooped down to land on Darby’s shoulder, as did Hedwig upon Harry’s. They all stared, open mouthed, as the Dark Lord rose up like some hideous nightmare.

“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. The choice is yours.”

Harry Potter stepped forward, his holly Wand raised before him, spitting white and blue sparks in front of him. Draco then grabbed his ankle, and over-excited, Harry yelled “Ger-off me!” He put just a bit too much force behind it, and Draco was hurled up and over a large stone shaped like a cross. His robe caught the top of it, tore open, and he fell to the cross bar. His arms caught it and his head slumped, blue and white sparks dancing over his emaciated frame and holding him in place, as if crucified.

“Oh shit!” Ron exclaimed as the robe tore, exposing him, “He’s a eunuch too?”

“Voldemort’s been feeding off of his Powers,” Seamus supplied, tying his own robe back shut. “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!”

Silence fell over the churchyard as they all stared. Draco’s bleeding head lolled to one side, and his eyes slowly opened very wide. His mouth fell open, and he sighed heavily one last time. Blood cascaded down his neck and back as one single tear ran down his sunken cheek. “Father,” he croaked weakly. Then his head slumped forward, and he hung there, very still.

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” Darby squeaked. “You’ve killed him!”

Harry felt sick to his stomach. No one, not even Malfoy or Voldemort moved. They all seemed transfixed, staring at the limp and pale form of the crucified Draco on the cross. “I … I dint … It was an ac-cci-dent!” Harry stammered, unable to believe what he’d just done.

“He was weak,” Seamus told him, his arm slipping around Harry’s ribs to hold him. “They hurt him, bad. Sucked him dry, almost. You did him a kindness,” the Irish lad said softly. “They’d have killed him to get to me.”

The wind was picking up again, though, and one word cut the night – ACCIO WAND! Voldemort cried, 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 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?”

Harry, suddenly overcome by what he’d done and how angry he was, stepped forward. “I do,” he snapped, aiming his Wand at Voldemort and Malfoy.

“Before I kill you,” Malfoy snapped back, “I want to know who killed my only son!”

“YOU killed him,” Seamus replied from behind Harry, 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.”

“Be that as it may,” Voldemort replied, waving his hand at them as if to say ‘oh go on’, “I will know who this daring little Muggle is that challenges me! WHO ARE YOU?!” He thundered, silencing the vast night chorus for miles around.

“Revallo!” 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.

“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.” 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, Potter, and we’ll make a deal. Better yet, join me! I can offer you soooo much!”

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

“Weasley!” Mr. Malfoy snapped, “Potter’s sidekick. Draco told me all about YOU. Just wait until your father hears about this!”

Ron 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.

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

“I’m waiting, Potter,” Voldemort said in a sweet voice, wheedling, and Harry could feel the Power of his Mind trying to overtake him. He stepped back, and something wet hit his cheek. He wiped it off, and saw that it was blood. He stared up at the ruined form of Draco Malfoy, and then back to Voldemort.

“Fuck you!” Harry snapped, letting loose a blast of energy from his Wand that shoved him backwards into Ron and Darby and Seamus. Hedwig took flight again as Harry stumbled, the blast hitting 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, Harry heard that almost-familiar rumble again.

But Voldemort was reforming as Malfoy slowly 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.

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 at whom, and 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 Harry popped up, his head replacing the angel’s, just long enough to fire back and duck back down.

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. Harry 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 Imperius Curse. “Ron, NO!” Harry screamed, firing a blast of angry red energy from his overheated Wand. It burned in his hand, and Harry could hold it. Malfoy sidestepped it, firing back so quickly that Harry didn’t have time to react. He was thrown backwards, crashing into a stone in the shape of reclining cherub. He hit it sideways, and heard his glasses break as the world went blurry. Pain blossomed up through his head as well, and blood ran from his nose. He straightened his remaining good lens so that he could see, closed his other eye, and got back up.

Ron was headed right towards Malfoy and Voldemort. “That’s it, boy, come here,” Voldemort cajoled, sidestepping the random blasts from Darby’s Wand.

“Darby, no!” Seamus cried, as the smaller boy jumped out of hiding 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 back 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 Spell headed towards them.

Harry jumped up, still dazed and half blind. Voldemort had resorted to fighting dirty, and it was obvious that he planned to kill them. Harry shook himself, off as the thunder and lightning crashed overhead, and raised his overworked Wand again. He saw Seamus take the two green fireballs full in the front, falling backwards, and Harry screamed.

Voldemort screamed as well, realizing that he’d fired The Killing Curse at the boy he most wanted to keep alive.

Seamus was down.

His black robe, a hand-me-down of Draco’s, was smoking. He lay in the wet grass as they all stared at him, Ron having been momentarily forgotten. Harry tore his gaze away from The Boy Who Didn’t Exist and aimed 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.

Lucius Malfoy 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 so vital to his return to Power, spun and fired back at Ron as Harry and Darby fired at him. Caught in the crossfire of such Power launched in anger, Voldemort faltered. His Curse, however, hit its mark. Ron screamed as his right hand was blown off, his Wand exploding into splinters with a great KER-POW! Both of them fell to the ground, Ron writhing in agony, clutching at the seared stump, which smoked and smelled like burnt meat.

Harry ran to his side, as did Darby, trampling over the fallen Dark Lord in the process. Ron was going into shock, his face deathly pale. Harry turned to see Vlad coming down out of the stormy sky again, as was Hedwig. Voldemort, however, did not stay down. Wheezing and smoking, as if trying to form himself back up, he arose. Harry and Darby flanked Ron protectively, Harry’s gaze wandering from Voldemort to Seamus.

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

“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?” He snapped.

“So what’s it take to go Bad? I think I’d like to be a Dark Wizard, too, sir,” he said, as Harry’s jaw dropped 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 feet. The Dark Lord was knocked over backward, 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 cry out, and his heart leapt.

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 form 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.

“You don’t know what you’ve got,” Voldemort snarled at him. “You don’t know how to use it!”

Harry and Darby were dragging Ron back away from the Dark Lord, who’s full attention was fixed upon Seamus now. 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. Voldemort raised his Wand and deflected it, but his shoulders slumped and he groaned. They faced each other then, Dark Power facing Wild Power. They slashed at one another as Harry and Darby tried to hide Ron, worried that he was going to die from shock. Harry spun bandages from the end of his Wand, wrapping the bleeding stump and wishing desperately that he knew how to DisApparate.

He 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!” He barked at her, and off she went.

Harry didn’t dare throw anything else into the mix of Power being tossed about between them. His Wand was overheated and he was afraid that he’d damaged it. Still, he had no idea how long Seamus could hold off Voldemort. He had to do something, and he had to do it very soon. “Stay with Ron,” he told Darby, jumping up and dashing towards the fray. He leapt onto Voldemort’s back, pummeling at him with his fists.

Voldemort reached over and grabbed Harry by the hair, flinging him forward. He let go of a 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 painfully found that several of his ribs had broken. He watched in horror as Seamus rose up quickly, a third Killing Curse striking him full in the chest.

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 was literally foaming at the mouth in rage, and he held his hands in front of him like claws. What happened then, Harry Potter would never be sure of. He stared, finally raising his Wand as his head pounded and blood ran down to blind his good eye. His ribs screamed at him, and he couldn’t get enough breath.

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. Sparks flew from where they met, and the two of them stared at one another with pure murder flashing in their eyes.

“Relent!” Voldemort cried.

“Eat shit!” Seamus retorted.

Closer and closer they moved, and Harry remembered Ron and Darby. He wiped his eyes, squinting to see Darby sneaking up behind the Dark Lord. Ron had passed out, it seemed, but he was still breathing. Harry got to his feet, dizzy and stumbling, and waved to Darby to back off. The small boy shook his head, however, reaching down to pick up a piece of wood that had been blasted off of the church roof. He swung it like a baseball bat, striking the Dark Lord full in the back of the head.

Voldemort howled in pain, and as he fell to his knees, another small green fireball shot from his Wand. It escaped the dark miasma surrounding him and struck Darby, hurling him into the air. The small boy flew over a row of gravestones, and hit the ground with a sickening THUD.

He didn’t get back up.

Seamus turned and screamed, fearing the worst of his best friend. 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 Seamus. “Look out!” He shouted, his head feeling as if it were about to split open. He sank to his knees as Seamus jerked his head back around to face the tiring Voldemort, who then lashed out in two directions.

Two more green fireballs, indicative of the Killing Curse, launched at them. Instinctively, it seemed, Seamus cried out ”Accio!” The two green fireballs swerved away from Harry, and Seamus took one of them full in the face. The other swerved back, and unable to avoid it, it struck Harry as intended.

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

Once again, the Dark Lord had failed to kill Harry Potter.

He’d also failed to kill Seamus Finnegan.

Confused and suddenly frightened, Voldemort only used a simple little Repelling Charm then, one that hardly required any skill at all. The two amazed boys, wondering why they weren’t dead, were caught totally unawares.

Having abandoned all hope of stealing Seamus Finnegan’s Wild Powers, the tiring Dark Lord plunged his Wand right at Seamus’ face and with his other hand, flung the piece of wood that Darby had struck him with at Harry. Harry went down with a yelp as he heard and felt all of the bones in his left leg snap as the Cursed wood hit him.

Seamus came to his senses then, and with a cry of fury, leapt at Voldemort as if he intended to jump him. Voldemort grinned, and simply raised his Wand and waited.

Writhing in pain, Harry watched, unable to believe what he was seeing. Time seemed to slow down again as Voldemort’s Wand, the Brother Wand to Harry’s, stabbed Seamus in his right eye as he leapt. Voldemort breathed hard, seemingly in great pain, as he sank the Wand in deeper. Seamus screamed once, and reached up to grab at the Wand.

“NO!” Harry cried, trying desperately to stand up, and aiming as best he could at Voldemort. They seemed locked in a sort of stasis, the black light battling with the cyan light. 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.

’You don’t have to SAY anything, really, once you know how to let it out. It’s not all in the Magic words of the Spell.’

More than anything, Harry just wanted it be over. He wanted to take Seamus and go, salvage what he could of this hideous night. He wanted Voldemort gone – and gone for good. With that thought firmly in mind, he raised his Wand again.

As Seamus’ hands closed on Voldemort’s Wand, a wave of cyan light erupted from his face and blew back along the Wand’s length, throwing the Dark Lord off with a loud BANG! and throwing Seamus backwards as well. Voldemort stumbled, turned to flee, and somehow fell over Ron. Harry finally got to his feet, balancing on his good leg with a great effort, letting loose of the last of his Powers. He felt it leave him, as if something had been forcibly wrenched out from deep inside of him.

As Voldemort got back up, stumbling over the unconscious Ron again, Harry’s holly Wand erupted, and then split down the middle as the full force of everything that WAS Harry Potter struck him full in the face.

The Dark Lord vanished with a despairing wail into a stinking puff of black smoke.

Exhausted, Harry sank to the ground and collapsed onto his back in the wet grass. The night had grown still, and as he lay there, gasping with his chest on fire and his head and leg screaming at him in pain, he heard the Rolls start up.

Lucius Malfoy was fleeing, and Harry watched the blurry form of the large black car tearing down the dirt road in a cloud of dust. A loud BANG indicated that it had Disapparted shortly thereafter.

Once again, it grew quiet. Hardly able to move his head, Harry could just make out the fuzzy forms of his fallen friends.

“Ron,” he croaked, “Ron?”

But Ron didn’t answer.

With a great effort, Harry moved his bloody head around and squinted around at the still form of Darby. He was close enough to see, even with his ruined glasses, that the small boy wasn’t breathing.

Vlad, his bat, was nowhere to be seen.

And then he saw Seamus Finnegan, lying very near to him with one hand on his chest and the other outstretched on the grass, almost as if reaching out to Harry. Voldemort’s Wand protruded grotesquely from his right eye, and Seamus lay very, very still.

Somewhere in the distance, Harry thought he heard that familiar rumbling sound again. His head hurt too badly to think about it, though.

He opened his mouth to call out to them again … Ron, Darby, Seamus … anyone who could hear him. His lips moved, but no sound came out as he began to cough. Blood ran down his front as he felt himself going limp, suddenly wanting to just sleep. He thought about his dream, remembered the Harry Potter that he’d seen in the doorway and not believed in.

Wood was right, he thought, Dreams that … Wizards have … I should have … should’ve … listened to him…

The moon was just beginning to head towards the western half of the sky when Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, lost consciousness.

End part 16.