Harry Potter and the Knife of Klingsor, Part 22

“A’right, Hermione?” The huge man greeted her.

“Not really,” she replied, taking a seat and unconsciously leaving Harry’s usual place empty. She noticed that Seamus was staring blankly at his own plate; he didn’t look up as she sat.

“Yea,” Ron mumbled, picking at his roast beef and letting his fork fall to the table with a clatter.

“Tha’s a first,” Wood observed, “Ron’s not hungry?”

“Cain’t blame ‘im,” Seamus mumbled, pushing his own plate away and folding his arms on the table. He rested his sandy head on them and sighed. “This is all MY fault,” he whispered to the tabletop.

“Course it’s not!” Hagrid boomed at them, making them jump a bit. “Snap outta it, the lot er ya’s!” He ordered them. “How do yeh’s think ‘Arry feels, all alone up there in his room wit nuthin’ ter do and no’un ter talk to? If anyone’s got a right ter be depressed, it’s him!”

Seamus looked at him as if he were daft, his eyes a mystery. After a moment, he looked away. Then he looked back at Hagrid forlornly, and finally said, “How is he?”

Hagrid shook his head. “Wuldn’t eat his lunch, an’ I’m takin’ dinner up ter him shortly. He woke up early in the afternoon. Hated ter leave him, but I had ter. Work to do, an’ the bloody Ministry an’ all. No visitors unless it’s an emergency. Poor boy don’ know if he’s comin’ er goin’! I’d call THAT an emergency, wuldn’t you’s?”

They all nodded.

“That an’ somebody had to fix that shower pipe he blew out this mornin’.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ve read all about Temporal Dementia, you know,” she began, as Ron rolled his eyes and klunked his head down on the table. Hermione smacked his arm, hard, and he yelped. “As I was about to say, anyway, what I don’t understand is if it’s so bad for someone so young to travel in Time like that, then why did Old Harry have him to do it in the first place?”

They all looked at her, shrugging. No one said a thing though, until finally, Seamus spoke up.

“I heard you’re going to be Harry’s lawyer,” he offered weakly.

Hermione nodded, but it wasn’t in pride.

“I’m a bit worried,” she confessed. “I mean, he…we have made a royal mess of things. The Ministry is sure to know all about everything he’s…we’ve done and…to be quite frank, I’ve not come across any cases in the Library that were nearly this bad!” Then it was her turn to sigh. “Oh, Hagrid, HOW does he do it? How does he get into such messes?”

“Got me,” Hagrid admitted, “Nat’rul talent?” Then he got up and filled a plate of food to the very edges, piling it on. “He’s gonta eat this if’n I ‘av ter poke it down ‘is throat,” he informed them. “He ate good all summer long an’ … I shouldn’t’ve told yeh’s that! Fergit I said that!”

“Said what?” Hermione offered, demurely picking at her roast. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starved!” She announced. “Are you going to eat that, Ron?”

“How can you eat at a time like this?” Ron countered, pushing his plate at her.

“Well if you’re not going to eat, then talk,” she ordered him. “I still need to clarify YOUR side of this mess,” she said, looking up at Seamus and grabbing his sleeve as he got up to follow Hagrid. “Oh, no! You, too! I want to hear YOUR story and Wood’s as well.”

“Yeh won’ believe it,” Wood told her. “I’m not sure I believe it meself.” Wood paled a bit, and shuddered. “I never knew time travel was really possible. I thought it was a bedtime story they told little Wizard kids.”

Hermione then pulled some parchment and a quill out of her bag and sat them on the table. It seemed that she never went anywhere without her bag, even though school was out for the summer. She tapped the quill with her Wand and said, “Dictatum transcripticus.” At once, the quill stood up on its own and began to copy down what everyone was saying as she continued to eat.

It was well after dark when the three of them had finished relating their views of the strange past week. Wood was particularly upset in telling them about having Harry in his back room at the same time that he was speaking to Harry at the counter while he’d been servicing his badly damage Nimbus 2000. Ron’s events were, Hermione thought, probably quite accurate. Seamus’, however, were very interesting. She made him go back over all of the parts concerning the Malfoys, just to be certain. Ron grinned the entire time.

“I bet THIS will be enough to send dear old Draco and his dad to Azkaban for a long time!” He piped up, just as Seamus was relating how he had survived several Avada Kedavra Curses in a row.

“Well, Draco’s useless,” Hermione reminded him. “He lost his memory when I tried to talk to him. “He’s being kept here until his father can come and get him. He has no clue why he’s here or what’s happened.”

“I cain’t wait ter see the look on Mr. Malfoy’s face when they ask him why he was kidnappin’ me,” Seamus said with a snarl. “Le’s see ‘im get outta that one!”

“Don’t be so sure,” Hermione reminded him, “He got off when You-Know-Who fell from Power. He might have something up his sleeve. In fact, I’d bet he does. You wait and see, they’ll throw all of this on Harry and not even mention Malfoy.”

Wood looked as if something were wrong, though.

“What is it, Oliver?” Hermione asked.

“Witnesses,” Wood blurted, looking at Seamus with a hard stare. “We need witnesses fer the trial! We need to hear from everyone who was involved from the start, and we need to get ‘em here now!”

Seamus looked up at him sharply, and then smiled for the first time since they’d gotten back to Hogwart’s. “I’ll get on the Floo NOW!” He announced, bolting from the bench and slamming the doors behind him.

Hermione sipped at her pumpkin juice and watched him go. “I have GOT to talk to Harry,” she grumbled. “We’ve shot one day, and they might start showing up tomorrow, you know.”

“I know,” Ron agreed, leaning over onto Wood’s shoulder and sighing. “I cahn’t stand it much longer, neither,” he moaned.

“It’ll be a’right,” Wood assured him. “Hermione’ll get ‘im outta it. You watch.”

“I…I think I…should c-call my parents,” Ron mumbled as Wood held him. The Quidditch Captain could feel him trembling. “I just hope they don’t put ME on trial too!”

Hermione almost jumped out of her seat. “Yes!” She agreed, “Get them here, too, Ron! Your father was there when it started, he can help defend Harry!”

Most of the next day was spent in fevered Floo calls to just about everyone that the boys could think of. Seamus even made Hagrid take him into the Forbidden Forest to the largest Ash tree that the large man knew of so that he could attempt to contact Darby in the Far North – or wherever it was that he’d been taken by Loki. By late afternoon, their witnesses had started to arrive at the School.

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley simply Apparated out of thin air near the train station in the village of Hogsmeade and walked up to the School. They were joined at the gates by Mr. And Mrs. Finnegan. Mr. Finnegan looked pale and a bit rattled, and no one saw fit to ask how his wife had gotten him there on such short of notice. The Kearneys arrived a few hours later on Mrs. Kearney’s old Comet 260, which looked very much the worse for wear. While not a Wizard himself, Mr. Kearney was obviously more used to his wife’s eccentricities than was Mr. Finnegan. Oliver Wood promptly took the Broomstick away from Mrs. Kearney and disappeared into the Quidditch locker rooms to work on it for her.

They were all just sitting down to a very late lunch in the Great Hall and getting to know one another when Ron and Seamus walked in.

“I couldn’t get ‘hold ‘o ‘im,” Seamus was shouting in his thick Irish brogue as Ron shook his flaming red head at him. Ron, it seemed, was in need of a haircut.

“Dammit, Seamus,” he was complaining, “That Wand ‘o yers called up a dog worse’n Fluffy e’er wuz, and yeh cahn’t get it to find Darby now?”

“Iz not MY fault that Master Odin’s not taking calls,” Seamus countered, stopping in his tracks as he glanced up. “Uh oh,” he breathed.

Ron froze as well, staring at his parents, his mother especially, in rapt terror. “Oh, I am so dead,” he groaned, as Mrs. Weasley jumped up from the Gryffindor table and began striding towards him.

“M-mum,” he began, but by then she’d reached him and taken him in a tearful embrace. Her hug was almost as deadly as Hagrid’s, as Mrs. Molly Weasley was NOT a small woman.

“Ronald Weasley,” she admonished him in a voice that Ron didn’t expect. “WHERE have you been for the last week? What’s all this about Harry?”

“An’ YOU,” Mrs. Finnegan joined in, dragging the boy to the table and placing him firmly between herself and his father. “How LONG have you been here? Why didn’t you call sooner? Every Witch and Wizard on this side of globe’s been after you!”

The questions then started coming at the boys at a rate that was far too fast to follow. They both sat across from one another, safely between their respective parents, at the Gryffindor table as the verbal assault went on and on. No sooner did one boy try and stammer out an answer than the next question came on its heels. Finally, Mr. Kearney spoke up, after clearing his throat loudly. They all looked at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Weasley began, “We just got so excited.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Finnegan added, while Mr. Finnegan gave Mr. Weasley a look of helplessness which he returned.

“Well what I wanna know,” Mr. Kearney drawled, grinning at his wife who managed to look somehow amused over her tea, “Is where’s Darby, and where’s that one boy with the specs and the scar? Wha’s his name again?”

There was an awkward pause.

“Darby’s gone,” Seamus said in barely audible voice, leaning against his father who pulled him onto his lap. “He’s gone away, an’ I cain’t e’en call ‘im!”

Mr. Kearney nodded as his wife patted his leg. “Now, you know we always suspected he was more than just a Muggle, Mr. Kearney,” she told him reassuringly. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine and he’ll write.”

The old man nodded at Seamus and smiled a weak smile. “I’ll miss him.”

Seamus nodded back and then looked up at his father, lost for words. Still half-ashamed of himself, he had no idea what to say.

Then, for the first time since he’d gone off to School for his First Year, Mr. Finnegan hugged his son tightly and kissed the top of his head. Seamus began to cry then, unable to hold it back any longer. It had been such a long time since his father had left them, and the boy had been so sure that he wasn’t coming back –ever. He’d heard and read too much about how Muggles oftentimes reacted to Witches and Wizards. He’d been so ashamed of himself then, watching helplessly from his bedroom window as his father drove away. He’d just healed up enough from his ordeal with The Knife of Klingsor to be up and about, and he’d felt guilty and responsible for his leaving. Certainly, Muggle or not, no man would want a gelded son … or so Seamus had thought. And what man – a Muggle at that – would want to be married to a Witch with a Eunuch Wizard for a son?

“D-dad,” he choked, but Mr. Finnegan took his face in his palms and raised it to stare him in the eye.

“No, son,” he told the boy, “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. I was the one who left. You didn’t make me leave. I just didn’t understand what was happening, or why. I’m not a great Wizard like you, you know,” he reassured him, stroking his hair and wiping at the tears from his cheeks. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry. No matter what you are, or what you turn out to be in the future, I’ll always love you.”

Seamus stared up at him, nodding mutely.

“Well then whut ‘bout the other boy?” Mr. Kearney interrupted, clearly embarrassed but misty-eyed as well.

“Harry Potter,” Ron offered, “He’s the reason we’re all here.”

“Oh, yea,” the old man exclaimed, snapping his fingers and smiling at his wife. “Run into him in the barn one mornin’, coulda swore ‘e wuz in bed though. Cain’t be in two places at once now, can he?”

They all looked at him as if he’d just sprouted a second head. “What?” he asked innocently.

“Mr. Kearney,” Mrs. Kearney told him formally, “I think you’re trying to figure out one of those ‘Witchy things,’ as yeh calls ‘em all the time, an’ yeh know yeh never do figure ‘em out, so quit tryin’!”

“Well, Mrs. Kearney,” he retorted, as Seamus snuggled down into his father’s lap with a look of total bliss on his face, “All I know is that white owl ‘o his come and go’d all day and night, and ‘e wuz here an’ there and yonder, in and out, up and down, never did stay put. I swear I see’d ‘im in the kitchen when I knowed fer damn sure ‘e wuz in bed!”

“Don’ mention that when the Ministry gets here,” Ron muttered, looking anxiously at his own father.

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat loudly and looked around as the doors opened. He looked up, as they all did, to see Albus Dumbledore striding into the room with a gait that the boys had never seen him use before. He was very nearly running.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” he apologized, “I have just come from getting Miss Granger settled in with Harry, as she’ll be acting as his defense counsel. He’s up to talking now, and they’ve much to go over before the Ministry arrives tomorrow.”

“What about the Dursleys?” Mr. Weasley asked, as Mrs. Weasley snorted in disgust.

“I have not informed them yet,” Dumbledore replied, “I do not believe that they would care to come though,” he added sadly. “They do not have a high opinion of Harry, as you know.”

Ron nodded but didn’t add anything. The last thing they needed was a family of Muggles trying to convict Harry as well. In the Dursleys’ eyes, Harry was a criminal anyway, just for being a Wizard; seeing him shipped off to some awful place would make THEM deliriously happy.

There were introductions all around, and Dumbledore seemed quite pleased to be meeting parents and friends of his students. Seamus and Ron weren’t sure what to think of it all, though, and kept quiet while the adults talked. Seamus didn’t so much as even fidget in his father’s lap, and Ron leaned heavily on his mother while they talked about Harry, the abduction, and the past week. After a while, Ron’s stomach reminded him that they’d talked their way into suppertime without even knowing it. Had it not been for the plates Magically appearing on the table, they’d have gone right past it.

They were just getting into the main course of lamb chops when the doors to the Great Hall opened again. Oliver Wood had come striding in with Mrs. Kearney’s refurbished Comet Broomstick, and he pulled up a bench and joined them.

“Classic model, ma’am,” he greeted her, “Good as new!”

“Thank you, dear,” she replied, “You were most of the day on it.”

“Was I?” Wood asked, “My where does the time go?”

Ron coughed and Seamus blushed.

Then the doors opened again.

Professor Dumbledore stood up and adjusted his spectacles. “Oh, dear,” he murmured, “Excuse me,” he then said, heading towards the two men who had just entered. They were both quite old, and neither of them seemed very pleased.

“Uh oh,” Ron breathed.

“What is it, son?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Tha’s Mr. Ollivander and Alessandro Grimaldi,” Ron replied, looking over at Seamus and jerking his head in their direction. Seamus turned to look as well.

“AND?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a dangerous tone.

“Nothin’,” Ron replied, as the two men came to the table with Dumbledore. They nodded to everyone and sat down.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander, who I am sure that you all know from Ollivander’s Wand Shoppe at Diagon Alley,” Dumbledore said. Everyone nodded, and Mr. Ollivander nodded back.

“And this is Mr. Alessandro Grimaldi,” Dumbledore went on, “Who operates the music shoppe across the way from Ollivander’s.”

The Weasleys stared at him. No one else recognized him.

“I thought you were dead?” Mr. Weasley finally asked, as Mrs. Weasley smacked his leg under the table with a loud CRACK!

“Arthur!” She admonished him, “That’s no way to greet one of the best musicians of all time!”

Grimaldi, however, grinned at them. “Ah, no offense, good lady,” he said in a slight Italian accent. “I would rather that people think that I AM dead. Makes things so much easier, you know. Hello, boys,” he said to Ron and Seamus. “Where are the other two, as if I need to ask where Potter is?”

Ron dropped his fork, trying to change the subject. Something about Grimaldi didn’t sit well with him, and he wasn’t sure why. “Isn’t Hermione coming down?” He asked Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head. “I am afraid that Miss Granger’s counsel with young Harry will take some time,” he informed them all, “And time is something that he does not have much of.”

Grimaldi snorted and Ollivander grinned as he sipped at his goblet.

“I would have thought,” Grimaldi said in an odd tone, “That Mr. Potter would be under guard for his crimes and not socializing with girls.”

Arthur Weasley put a protective arm around Ron and simply said, “It’s not common knowledge that Harry Potter is in any kind of trouble, other than being missing, sir,” he replied.

“Well, isn’t HE the reason I’ve been dragged halfway across England? Miserable trip for a man my age,” he complained. “I hope you’ve got good accommodations ready, Albus,” he said in a disgusted tone.

Mr. Weasley glared at him. Ron looked over at Dumbledore, who’s ice-blue eyes were penetrating, almost as if looking straight into Grimaldi’s insides.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore replied, “You may use the Hufflepuff House. I believe you will find the student quarters are quite nice. Our other guests may choose to bunk with their children in Ravenclaw. Certainly I would not recommend the Slytherin House rooms, as the dungeons where they are located are not exactly the warmest of the Castle, even in summer. And of course, Harry Potter is confined to Gryffindor House in the Tower, which makes it off limits.” He did not, however, take his gaze off of Grimaldi.

“I’d not wish to interrupt Mr. Potter and his counsel,” Grimaldi retorted.

“Don’ ‘av ter worry ‘bout that,” Seamus added in a low voice, but it seemed that no one but Ron and Dumbledore heard him. The old man winked at him.

No one slept much that night. In a few hours time, the trial would begin. Possibly no one, however, was as upset as Seamus Finnegan. His mother had used Magic to combine two beds in the Ravenclaw Dormitories Fourth Years’ room to make a king size bed, but even the secure feeling of being curled up next to his father didn’t help much. It was wonderful having him back, there was no doubt about it, but Seamus couldn’t open up to him – or his mother – about what was really bothering him.

As the night slipped by, Seamus finally crept out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown. He sat for a long time in the windowsill, as Harry was fond of doing, staring out over the grounds and wrestling with his conflicting emotions. The waning moon’s light was very weak, but as he stared, Seamus thought that he saw what looked like a person moving across the lawn. He squinted hard, finally opening the window to lean out and look. There, at the edge of the lawn and near Hagrid’s cabin, was what appeared to be a man on horseback. Seamus strained his ears, but he couldn’t make out what the man and Hagrid were saying.

Too wound up to sleep, Seamus pulled out his Wand and very carefully concentrated on himself. He whispered the Levitation Spell, and softly lowered himself to the ground without even the smallest of explosions. The grass was damp under his bare feet as he crept across the lawn, hiding behind trees and bushes until he was near enough to hear Hagrid and his visitor.

“But dear Hagrid,” the man on horseback was saying, “Jupiter bids me return the item to you. The stars are in motion, and an odd one at that.”

“I don’ wanna see it, Firenze,” Hagrid replied in a gruff tone, taking something from him and shoving it into his pocket. Seamus’ hair stood up on the back of his neck.

“It will be very important in the trial,” the rider told him. “You know that Harry Potter is known to all of us out here in the forest. We also know that he is not safe at this time. He has suffered a great loss in his noble act, and those who seek to destroy him utterly are yet hard at work to do just that!”

“Talk straight fer once,” Hagrid told him, but Firenze sighed heavily instead.

“Forces are at work to destroy the boy, my friend,” Firenze went on in a mysterious voice. “If he is found guilty, it will utterly destroy him.”

“What forces?” Hagrid demanded, on the verge of losing his temper.

“I cannot say more,” he replied in a sad tone. “I shall miss Harry Potter if anything were to happen to him. Goodnight, Hagrid,” the rider said, moving away and back into the forest as Seamus stared hard. He gasped as the rider moved into a patch of moonlight; it was not a rider, but rather a young Centaur.

“Wow,” Seamus breathed in wonder, watching the Centaur vanish into the trees as Hagrid turned towards the Castle with a yawn.

“Time to relieve Poppy,” he grumbled, and Seamus gasped again. That comment could only mean that Hagrid was going up to check up on Harry, and Seamus’ heart began to pound.

He ran all the way back to the Castle, levitated himself back up to his window, and slipped out of Ravenclaw House. Peering carefully down the hallways with his Wand gripped tightly in hand, he made his way down the familiar corridors that led to Gryffindor Tower. He ducked behind a suit of armor at the end of the hall just as Hagrid was coming up to the empty portrait frame that was the door to the Tower. Seamus took a deep breath and waited. The Fat Lady was not in her frame, and he was wondering how Hagrid was going to get in without her.

Then the huge man pulled out his pink umbrella and tapped the empty frame three times in different places. It opened up and Seamus made his move. Hagrid suddenly froze in place, half in and half out of the portal. Seamus slipped past him, wondering for a moment at the still flames that did not move in the torches that lit the Castle by night. He slid past Hagrid and into the Common Room, dashing up the stairs where he met a frozen Madam Pomfrey. He rushed past her and up to the Dormitories, only to find the door locked.

“Damn!” He cursed, unable to open the door. He tried the Alohamora Spell. Nothing. He then pocketed his Wand and hid behind a tapestry, slipping back into Time with them both.

He could hear Madam Pomfrey greeting Hagrid on the stairs, and telling him that Harry was just fine and sleeping. He waited until Hagrid came to the door, and just as he was opening it, Seamus seized Time again and Hagrid froze. The boy slipped past him once again and into the Dormitory.

Harry Potter was indeed asleep. He was curled up in a ball on his right side, his messy black hair spilled down over his face and hiding his scar. Seamus could just make out the specs on the nightstand, and he moved closer. Harry was breathing so softly that for a moment, Seamus wondered if he were breathing at all. Very gently, he sat down on the edge of the big four-poster and just watched Harry sleep. He stared at the dark circles under his eyes, the crease between his eyebrows, and the overhaul gaunt look to him that made him think of Draco Malfoy.

“I wish none ‘o this ‘ad happened,” he whispered after a while, “Iz all MY fault, ‘Arry.”

Harry stirred a bit, but didn’t awaken. Seamus reached out a trembling hand and touched his smooth cheek, a great lump rising in his throat. He thought back to the day so long ago, just before their First Year had ended, when Harry had come in to find him crying in his wet bed. It seemed like almost another lifetime, and Seamus bit his lower lip as he reached up to smooth Harry’s hair.

“Who’d’a thought?” he asked the sleeping boy, looking back at Hagrid, who was still frozen in the doorway.

Just then, Harry slowly opened his left eye and mumbled, “Wha? Iz Saturday, Potions homework can wait – screw Snape.”

Seamus flinched, his heart skipping. He pulled his hand back as Harry turned over. He noticed that Harry was shivering a bit, though. Then, on an impulse borne of the fear that he might never get the chance again, Seamus bent down and softly kissed Harry’s cheek.

Harry’s eyes popped open and he gasped. He sat bolt upright in bed, wide-awake, and Seamus leaned back with a small yelp. “I’m sorry,” he squeaked, “I dint’ mean to…”

“Seamus!” Harry interrupted him, a broad smile splitting his haunted-looking face. “How did you get in?”

“I, er, sort of did the Time thing,” he said in an embarrassed tone, gesturing at Hagrid in the doorway. Harry smiled even broader, and pulled him into a tight hug.

For a long while, neither of them said a thing. They simply sat and held one another, almost as if afraid to let go. Seamus’ touch was much like food to a starving man, and Harry trembled in pleasure as Seamus’ small hands touched him. He didn’t exactly remember the last time he’d touched him, but he DID remember how it had felt. More than anything, he wanted to feel that way again.

And he didn’t want it to end.

He pulled Seamus closer, drawing him under his blankets with him and closing his mouth over the Irish lad’s in a desperate kiss. His hands moved here and there, as did Seamus’, as both of them uttered small noises of pleasure. Familiar feelings, but oddly vague somehow, rose up within Harry. He knew that there was something else that he wanted, something that he wanted for Seamus, but he couldn’t recall what it was. Between the stress of his upcoming trial and the bouts of Temporal Dementia, Harry really wasn’t sure of anything at that point.

Finally, he broke the kiss and panted, “Seamus, what day is it? When’s the Ministry coming for me?”

“In…in a few hours,” Seamus informed him sadly, “Harry, I had to come,” he added, “I was so scared an’ I couldn’t sleep! What if’n I ne’er see ya again?”

“I dunno,” Harry replied, very close to tears, “I’m not sure what they think I did. Hell, even I’m not sure what I think I did. Hermione explained it all to me, but it didn’t make much sense. I’m so confused!” He moaned, burying his head in Seamus’ shoulder and shaking harder. Then he pulled back, his green eyes suddenly alight with understanding. His hand moved to Seamus’ crotch, and he gasped.

“The Knife of Klingsor!” He exclaimed, “That’s what did it! Tha’s why we’re in trouble!”

Seamus nodded sadly. “You rescued me, Harry,” he said in a small voice, “You … ya cut yerself…an’ then…” but Seamus couldn’t finish. All he could really think about was touching Harry, holding him, and not wanting to let go of Time so that it could catch up to them and risk taking away the one that he simply had to have.

Then Harry remembered something else as his hands touched Seamus’ smooth form again.

“It’s just not fair!” He said bitterly, with a sense of urgent frustration welling up inside of him. He wanted so desperately for Seamus to know what neither of them could now have was like. He remembered what Ron had done to him at the Kearneys’, as proof that being a eunuch wouldn’t mean the end of pleasure. “All I wanted was to… was to…”

“I know,” Seamus replied in a soft voice, a voice that Harry realized would never change and break and go sour. He touched Seamus’ cheek, realizing that – like his own – there would never be a beard there. He stared into Seamus’ almost-golden-brown eyes, his own green ones lost in them. Tentatively, he touched him again and the Irish lad moaned in delight.

“I cahn’t,” Harry began,

“You don’ ‘av to,” Seamus interrupted him, pushing him back down and nuzzling his neck.

“But I’m a…I’m just…jus’ like you,” he protested, “It’s not like we can do…”

“We can do enough,” Seamus disagreed, his mouth closing over Harry’s again as Hagrid stood motionless and unseeing in the doorway.

It wasn’t long until Seamus’ gown and Harry’s pajamas were bunched up at the end of the bed under the blankets as the two young eunuchs did their best to pleasure one another. Harry didn’t know what Seamus felt, or rather, what he could feel. He knew, though, how he felt. He was so close, almost feeling as if Seamus could only touch him in the right spot that he would be given over to the feeling of total ecstasy that he vaguely recalled. He thought of Ron buggering him again, how that had felt, and he trembled and moaned as Seamus simply wrapped himself around him like a blanket.

It went on for a very long time, both of them weak and sweating after a while. Finally, just as Harry was about ready to scream in frustration as he touched Seamus’ well-healed scar where his boyhood should have been, a familiar voice broke the mood.

“An’ I suppose yeh two kin explain THIS?” Hagrid asked in a surprised tone, right in Harry’s ear.

Harry and Seamus both screamed and pulled the blankets up over them both as Hagrid laughed.

“Uh oh,” Seamus whined, “I think I slipped.”

Hagrid laughed even harder. “I dunno ‘ow yeh got by me, Seamus, but I don’ think I wanna know!” The huge man stated, patting the lump of blankets that was the two of them. “Come outta there, now. It’s time fer Harry’s medicine.”

Very cautiously, they both peeked out at him. Hagrid was holding up a large bottle of something that was sparkling and smoking as he uncorked it.

Harry nodded and took a swig.

“Why do all the Potions in the Infirmary have to smoke?” Harry asked, staring at the bottle and pulling a face.

“Does he know where he is?” Hagrid asked Seamus.

“Yes, why?” Seamus answered.

Harry sighed and collapsed back onto his damp pillows. “I’ve got Temporal Dementia,” he told Seamus, “It comes from using a Time Turner. I’m really bad off,” he said miserably. “At least I knew where and when I was when you came in.”

“I told yeh, Dumbledore said it can be cured,” Hagrid reminded him, “AFTER the trial.”

“I know,” Harry said miserably, “I jus’ wish I knew WHAT the cure was. WHY cahn’t they cure it ‘for the trial though?”

Hagrid cleared his throat. “I can’t say, an’ don’ ask!” He ordered them. Then he looked at Seamus. “An’ I think YOU better be gittin’ along back to your own bed,” he informed him. “All hell’d break loose if’n anyone found yeh in here!”

“Yeah,” Seamus admitted bitterly. “Bad enough bein’ a eunuch. I guess…I think…I’m still gay even if’n I’m not a boy anymore,” he said sourly, pulling out his dressing gown and putting it on as Hagrid watched him.

He gasped as Hagrid took him by the upper arms and shook him gently to get his attention. It worked, as Hagrid’s hands were larger than Seamus’ head.

“Now yeh listen ter me,” he ordered, “An’ you too, ‘Arry,” he added. “I don’ care one bit. You two must love each other, after whut I seen this summer. Yeh both been through a lot. There’s them out there that might think it’s sick, or wrong, but I ain’t one of ‘em. An’ I think yeh’ll both find out that there’s more folks in yer lives that think the same thing as me. Don’ ever be ashamed ‘o lovin’ someone, got it?” He asked in a firm tone.

They both nodded as Hagrid led Seamus to the door. “Do yeh sleepwalk, ever?” He asked.

“No, I just pee the bed sometimes. Why?”

“Well, yeh do NOW,” Hagrid told him, “Tha’s our excuse fer YOU bein’ outta bed.”

Harry laughed as the medicine kicked in, and he fell back to sleep with the smile still on his face. In his dreams, he was no longer a Eunuch Wizard. He was holding Seamus, and his cock was throbbing hard as he touched him to take off his black robe and shirt. Seamus was no longer a eunuch, either, Harry saw as the clothing fell away. His smaller cock was also hard and ready as Harry took him in his arms.

“Anything,” he mumbled in his sleep, alone in Gryffindor Tower as the sun began to peek up over the hilltops. “I’ll do anything,” he sighed as his body convulsed in a weak wet dream that left only a small damp spot on his blankets.

The Members of the Ministry of Magic arrived just after breakfast the next morning, accompanied by Lucius Malfoy. Everyone had met in the Great Hall, and they were just beginning to listen to Professor Dumbledore and Hermione explaining the particulars of the case against Harry when the doors swung open.

The first one to enter, Ron recognized, was his dad’s boss. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, strode in carrying a lime green bowler hat. He was dressed in a formal black robe with odd purple boots that curled up at the toes. His shirt was pressed and white, but he was also wearing a hideous orange necktie. Behind him followed a dozen other Witches and Wizards, all of them in formal robes as well. Behind them stood Malfoy. Dumbledore got up and went to meet them near the end of Gryffindor table.

“Minister,” he greeted Fudge.

“Albus,” Fudge nodded to him, “Nice summer, I trust, until THAT boy came along and wrecked it for us?”

Dumbledore actually blushed a bit. “I was, er, in the Azores when Mr. Potter allegedly caused his bit of mayhem,” he dodged, thankful that Professor McGonagall had not been summoned to the trial.

Malfoy snorted.

Fudge made an indelicate sound as well. “Well, all things considered, You-Know-Who or not, we’re here to hear his side of things and try and find out what really happened. All sorts of wild stories and alarms going off, you know. Hell, even Temporal Affairs sent word that something was wrong. I HATE dealing with that office. You NEVER know who’ll you’ll find behind the desk in there one day to the next.”

Behind them at the table, Seamus knocked over his milk with a gasp. Everyone stared at him, and he went red.

“And this must be young Master Finnegan,” Fudge nodded to him. “The initial cause of all our problems, I believe? Glad to see you safe and sound again, boy!”

But Seamus was staring in terror at Lucius Malfoy. He recoiled, and the odd cyan glow surrounded him in a blazing nimbus. On instinct, he pulled his arm back, clutching a fireball in his hand.

“Safe, NO thanks to YOU,” Ron grumbled, and his mother jabbed him hard in the ribs. Ron yelped.

Dumbledore, however, moved quickly to his side. As he touched the boy, the glow faded. “It’s alright, Seamus,” he reassured him. “He’s come for Draco, and to offer testimony. Nothing else.”

Behind Fudge, the assembled Members of the Ministry mumbled amongst themselves. A few of them pointed at Seamus, and they all stared. Seamus went even redder, thinking that he recognized a few of them from his ordeal with The Knife of Klingsor. But since he’d been sedated then, his memories of the event were foggy at best and he couldn’t be sure. Still, he didn’t like the way they were all looking at him. He shrank back against his father, who put a protective arm around him and glared back at Fudge.

“You were saying, Mr. Weasley?” Fudge asked, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Nothin’,” Ron replied, as Grimaldi spoke up from the other side of the table.

“Hello, Cornelius,” he greeted the Minister, also exchanging nods with Malfoy. “Ah, Lucius, that awful Muggle CD that your son wanted is in, finally.” Malfoy nodded back, rolled his eyes, and Hermione’s eyebrows shot up.

“Alessandro!” Fudge replied, smiling and changing track in a heartbeat, “I thought you were dead!”

Grimaldi bowed slightly. “A useful rumor,” he answered, grinning, as Arthur Weasley rose as well.

“Weasley,” Fudge said to him a lower tone, “How are things in the Muggle Affairs office going? Hopefully these boys haven’t made too much work for you this summer?”

“Not a bit,” Mr. Weasley replied, glancing at Ron and then back at Fudge. “When are we to get underway?” He asked, glaring at Malfoy, how returned the sentiment.

“I can send Hagrid and Miss Granger up for Harry at once,” Dumbledore said.

Fudge’s face paled. “I thought my letter said there was to be no contact with anyone?” He said in an angry voice. “That boy has already…”

But Dumbledore interrupted him. There was an edge to his voice and a flash in his eyes that the boys had seldom seen before. It was almost as if the old man were issuing a challenge, and Fudge shrank back a bit. “Miss Granger has appointed herself as Harry Potter’s defense counsel,” he retorted hotly, “And none of your other rules have been broken. Harry has been formally arrested and held prison in Gryffindor Tower for two days, just as you ordered. Someone had to feed him and see to his needs, you know.”

He and Fudge stared at one another. There was a long pause, and then finally Dumbledore waved a hand at Hermione. She took the queue and ran from the Hall to fetch Hagrid. “Make sure that Hagrid takes all the legal precautions,” he called after her. “Bring the prisoner down at once so that we may commence!” He said formally.

“You’ve had HAGRID taking care of him?” Malfoy said in amazement, his face going pink. “Rubeus Hagrid?”

Again, Dumbledore’s voice rang with challenge. “I would trust Hagrid with my life,” he snapped. “He is very probably the best thing for the boy right now! Were it not for him, Harry would probably have died long ago.”

Malfoy moved to the rear of the crowd, his pale eyes on Dumbledore. Fudge moved forward, and the Ministry Members fell quiet.

The silence that fell over the Hall was deadly as the Minister and the Professor stared at one another. Behind Fudge, the rest of the Ministry Officials slowly began to look around. Finally, a small Witch in a burgundy robe spoke up. “I think the faculty tables at the front for us, with a bit of rearranging to make it look more like a courtroom?”

Dumbledore pulled out his Wand and Fudge nearly fell over. “I shall arrange the furniture,” he commented idly, “if everyone would be so kind as to move.”

Seamus pulled Ron aside as they moved to the wall out of the way so that Dumbledore could do as they’d requested.

“Ron, last night,” he whispered in his ear, “I was out the Grounds and I saw someone, a Centaur! He brought Hagrid The Knife back!”

“Firenze!” Ron exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down. “Harry gave The Knife to him so Malfoy couldn’t get it!” Then he looked around, and his jaw dropped. “Where IS Draco anyway? He outta be better by now!”

“Yea!” Seamus agreed hotly, “I mean, his DAD was the one who kidnapped me! Where are they?” Then Seamus eyebrows, intact for once, went up. “I bet that’s why HE’s here – he’s after the Knife again! Gonna finish Draco off for good this time!”

But Seamus had raised his voice a bit too much as the tables began to slide into place parallel to the faculty tables. A tall Wizard from the Fudge’s retinue heard him and spoke up.

“I believe, Master Finnegan, that Harry Potter is on trial here, not the Malfoys.”

Ron and Seamus gaped at him in disbelief.

“Wha?!” Seamus squeaked. “They kidnapped me! They tried to kill my friend Darby and me both! Whaddaya mean they’re NOT on trial here?”

Then Seamus’ father was there at his side, and he did not look pleased. “Excuse me, sir,” he said in a dangerous tone, “But are you telling us that the man who abducted my son has not been arrested?”

The tall Wizard cleared his throat nervously. “I think Mr. Fudge should be the one to answer that question.”

Mr. Finnegan glared at him as they were all directed to their seats while Seamus chattered in his ear and pointed at Malfoy. Fudge and the rest of them took theirs as well. Silence fell over the Great Hall once again as they waited. From the front of the Hall, the Ministry stared down from the elevated stage of faculty tables. On the floor below, two other tables had been set ahead of the rest. To the right table, one Wizard from the Ministry sat with a great many scrolls. Malfoy took a seat behind him. To the left, awaiting the defendant, sat another empty table behind which everyone else sat.

“Mr. Malcolm Baddock,” Fudge introduced him. “He will be serving as Prosecution for the Ministry. Objections?”

“No,” Dumbledore replied, “I can accept Mr. Baddock as counsel so far as you can accept Miss Granger.”

Baddock, and Grimaldi as well, both snickered. Dumbledore, however, grinned.

“Very well,” Fudge declared, as the small Witch in the burgundy robes began furiously scribbling notes with her Quill. “Court is in session, then,” he added almost informally and in an annoyed tone of voice.

And then the doors of the Great Hall opened once again with much noise.

Everyone turned to look as Hagrid and Hermione stepped through the doors to stand side by side. They paused for a moment, and then both of them stepped aside.

Harry Potter then shuffled into the Great Hall, followed by a scraping sound of metal on stone. Again, everyone gasped. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears, and the men came to their feet in outrage. Only Dumbledore remained seated, as oddly, did Grimaldi and Malfoy. The Professor glanced at him, looked away, and then stared back at Harry with a sad look on his face. Ron’s jaw dropped, and Seamus turned and buried his face in his father’s coat with a strangled sob. Oliver Wood snarled in disgust, his eyes flashing, but held his tongue.

“Well I never!” Mrs. Kearney breathed, laying a steadying hand on Mr. Kearney’s arm, who had come to his feet with a vile curse.

“This is totally out of line!” Arthur Weasley declared, as Harry took another hesitant step in.

He was dressed only in his striped pajamas, and his black hair was wilder than usual. His glasses were smudged and a bit off kilter, and there were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hands were cuffed tightly together in front of him, and the manacles on his ankles scraped the stone floor with a sickening noise as his bare feet moved over the cold stone. His green eyes darted this way and that, and he was shaking.

Very slowly, he made his way down the center aisle with Hagrid and Hermione on either side of him. Hagrid paused to position the gaunt-looking boy in front of Mr. Fudge, then took his place at the table with Hermione.

“Harry Potter, I presume?” Fudge said in an ominous tone.

Harry nodded.

The oppressive silence hung over them all like a miasma.

“This court is now in session, I remind you. It is my sad duty to judge, and if need be, bring sentence upon you for your actions of this past summer,” Fudge explained. “You are familiar with the charges?”

“I…I don’ know…you see sir, I, er, I’ve been…” Harry faltered, trying to get his mouth to work. He stared down at his cuffed hands, his mind racing. Two sets of memories were pounding in his mind, and wasn’t sure which ones were right.

Then Hermione stood up. “Mr. Fudge, er, your Honor, sir,” she groped, unsure of how to address him.

“Yes?” Fudge asked. “’Sir’ will do fine,” he added with a grin.

“Sir,” she offered, “My client is suffering from exhaustion due to the strain on his Wizarding Powers of late. He’s not well, sir, and he may be unfit to stand trial.”

Fudge looked at Harry, then reached inside his robe. “Sit down, Mr. Potter, we all know who you are,” he ordered.

Harry shuffled over to the table, and Hagrid helped him into his seat.

“I have here, Miss Granger, in addition to the former charges, a notice from the Office of Temporal Affairs. It says not to open it yet, and I really don’t want to. You and the other students ARE aware, are you not, that when you use Magic out of line an alarm goes off at the Ministry offices? I believe Mr. Potter already got one of these for using a Hover Spell in his kitchen at Privet Drive earlier this summer? Mr. Potter wouldn’t be suffering from Temporal Dementia now, by chance, would he?”

“Bloody hell,” Ron mumbled.

Seamus began to tremble, but slid off of his father’s lap to sit between him and Ron. “They know,” he whispered, as everyone in the room gasped. Ollivander and Grimaldi, however, didn’t seem to be surprised, though, and Malfoy had an odd look on his face.

“And I’ll remind you that you ARE under oath, if not Spell as well, to tell the truth during these proceedings. Any attempt at lying to this Wizarding panel may prove … unpleasant,” Fudge warned them.

Harry looked up sharply, desperately trying to clear his mind. He then looked around at everyone, took in the looks of concern on all of their faces, and turned back to Fudge. “I am, sir,” he confessed. “I have Temporal Dementia. I’m in a state, sir,” he admitted.

“A state of what?” Fudge demanded. “Boy, do you have ANY clue what you’ve done?” The Minister demanded, waving the parchment at him. “Gods, I don’t want to drag that Temporal office into this. I hate those people! Did you screw around with Time too?”

Seamus blanched.

“Actually, sir, I’m not sure at all,” Harry said truthfully. “I’m very confused. I…I…had to go get Seamus,” the boy managed, with a blank look on his face.

“Can anyone substantiate this claim?” Fudge asked, then thought for a moment. “Someone go get Madame Pomfrey,” he ordered irritably, and one of the Witches from the panel rushed out. She returned a bit later with Poppy, who was leading Draco Malfoy by the hand. He looked a bit frazzled, but healthy. When he caught sight of his father, who stood up with a nod from Fudge, he trotted to his side and took a seat next to him.

“Wha’s going on, Father?” Draco asked quietly, but Lucius Malfoy had him sit and shushed him. Draco glanced over at Harry, but without his usual sneer. He stared back down at the floor instead.

“Madame Pomfrey,” Fudge inquired formally, “Do you feel that Harry Potter is fit to stand trial, given his medical state?”

The nurse thought for a bit, then pulled a bottle of the sparkling and smoking Potion from her bag. She handed it to Hagrid, who passed it to Harry. Harry groaned, but drank it.

“Give him a moment,” she replied, watching Harry closely as his emerald eyes cleared and the dark circles under his eyes vanished. A wisp of smoke rolled out of each of his ears, and he shook his head and hiccoughed once.

“He is now,” she stated firmly, taking a seat next to Mrs. Finnegan.

“Very good,” Fudge agreed. “Well,” he went on, pulling out a scroll and unwinding it. It fell across the table and rolled well out and down the aisle as everyone looked to watch it go. Hermione, still standing, shook her head. “As to the previous charges, Mr. Potter, how do you plead? And keep in mind, I intend to be here until suppertime, not senility. Let’s not drag this out.”

Harry looked at the scroll as he his mind cleared off. Something began to churn within him, and it wasn’t his breakfast that Hagrid had poked down him, either. He looked from the scroll to his assembled friends, over at Baddock and Malfoy, and back at Fudge.

How DARE they? He thought angrily. Seamus might well be dead now, were it left to them! How do I plead? He wants a plea, I’ll give him one!

He then shot a curt nod to Hermione, and stared Fudge in the face, twisting his hands in his cuffs.

“NOT GUILTY!” He snapped at the Minister of Magic, and the entire panel gasped as a pale aura of cyan light surrounded him with a slight crackling sound. “I’m also uncomfortable, cold, embarrassed, and wish to file a formal complain about MY treatment these past three days!” Then he shot Lucius Malfoy a look filled with pure venom.

“So entered,” Fudge said in an uninterested tone, then added, “Settle down, Potter. Your complaint is noted. Albus, get the boy a robe or something,” he added, as Dumbledore spun a thick hooded robe and a pair of slippers out of thin air. The robe, somehow, managed to wrap itself about Harry despite his handcuffs.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, still glaring at Fudge. Behind him, Ron, Seamus and Wood looked as if they were all about to faint at Harry’s attitude towards the panel that literally held his life in their hands.

“Get up here and sit, er rather, take the stand,” Fudge ordered him, conjuring a chair just in front of his own seat. Harry did that, shambling up the step carefully as his chain dragged the floor. “And stop glowing at me,” Fudge added, “I’m not easily impressed by Second Year tricks.”

“Voldemort was quite impressed with it, sir” Harry retorted hotly, and the entire room flinched. A few of the Witches on the panel swooned at the name. Grimaldi made another indelicate sound.

“Objection!” Baddock snapped.

“Sustained,” Fudge replied, staring intently at Harry. “What does HE have to do with any of this?”

Everyone on Harry’s side of the Hall stared at one another in disbelief at what the Minister of Magic had just said. Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Sir, none of this would be necessary if Voldemort hadn’t put Malfoy up to kidnapping Seamus Finnegan,” Harry explained.

“Objection!” Baddock snapped again, as Malfoy jabbed him in the ribs. “The boy is on trial here for HIS crimes! And does he HAVE to keep saying THE NAME?”

“Sustained,” Fudge repeated, “Mr. Potter,” he said to Harry, “Lucius Malfoy is not on trial here, YOU are!”

Harry glared at Malfoy once again and then back at Fudge. “Then I’d suggest, sir, that you get ready to be here for a while, because it’s a LONG story!”

And indeed it was. Harry related an edited version of HIS side of the story to them in about half an hour, skipping over the more incriminating parts and being careful not to lie. He had no desire to see what would happen to him if he tried. The panel behind Fudge nodded and whispered and scribbled as he talked, going on about the past few days and leaving out his repeated summer with Hagrid. After all, they didn’t NEED to hear about THAT part, he figured.

When he’d finished, Fudge turned Harry over to Hermione and Baddock, who both questioned him relentlessly. They spent a good part of two hours questioning Harry over his alleged behavior at the Weasley’s house and whether or not he’d coerced Ron and Darby into setting off on the adventure with him. They objected to one another constantly, until finally, Hermione called Mrs. Finnegan and the rest of the ladies to the stand and launched into an extended discussion on the pros and cons of raising headstrong children. Every time that Baddock, obviously not a parent himself, made a claim, Hermione would counter it with testimony from one of the ladies.

Reluctantly, the Ministry dropped the first charge in light of simply how much time Hermione was going to burn up on that ONE charge.

“So the way I see it,” Hermione concluded that argument, having got what she wanted, “In dropping the charges of being insolent to the Ministry, the Ministry does in fact admit fault in the handling of the case of Seamus Finnegan’s abduction, leaving Harry no other choice, really. Amazing that a gang of twelve-year-old boys found him inside of a week when most of Europe couldn’t seem to do it. I would move that this also dismisses a good part of the other charges, including running away from home with Magical intents if not the Broomsticking violations as well, along with several of the Misuses of Magic by an Underage Wizard. Everyone knows that Harry Potter is the best Seeker to come along in years on the Quidditch field, and such wasn’t a crime the last time I looked.” Then she thought for a moment, pausing for dramatic effect. “It almost appears as if someone was almost trying to put Harry Potter up to acting. I’d say that this shoots down the charge of running away from home as well.”

Even Baddock was too shocked to object. Fudge gaped at Hermione, obviously never having been shot down by a young girl before. The Members whispered at one another, gesturing at Seamus and scribbling and comparing notes. Hermione’s latest accusation, it seemed, had thrown them into turmoil.

“And as far as intimidation,” she went on, “Well, he didn’t look too intimidating to ME when he stumbled in here, now did he? Honestly,” she snorted with a flip of her bushy hair, “The Ministry isn’t putting up a very good face, I think. You couldn’t get Seamus back, preferring to argue instead and do paperwork,” she added, calling Mr. Weasley to the stand next to give his side of what had happened at his home that night. When she was done with him, she called Ron to the stand. By the time he was done, the charges of intimidation and coercion were dropped as well.

The Ministry then called for a short recess, which was granted. They all looked worried, and with good reason.

Hermione took the chance to prepare her next line of defense, reluctantly facing the Finnegans. “I don’t want to have to do this to Seamus,” she told them, as everyone gathered around to listen, “But I’m going to have to dig into what they did to him. I’ve got to press the issue of them being negligent in his abduction and making Harry act, and the only way I can do that is to have Seamus take the stand. Something isn’t right here, and I can’t figure out why they’re dodging the issue totally.” Then she turned to Harry and Hagrid. “I don’t want the topic of Time travel coming up unless it has to, again,” she added, “Do you have The Knife handy?” She asked.

Hagrid nodded, patting his pocket. “Dunno why you’d want that nasty thing brought up though,” he rumbled.

Harry gaped at him. “Where’d you get it?”

“Firenze brought it back last night,” Hagrid informed him, shooting a knowing look at Seamus and Ron. “Good idea, hidin’ it in the Forest.”

Harry shook his head and sighed. “At least Malfoy didn’t’ get it.”

“Exactly, Harry. And trust me,” Hermione said, as the Ministry reconvened. “Seamus, can you do it? We’ve got to turn this thing around, and fast.”

The Irish lad nodded slowly. “They know already, most of ‘em,” he sighed, his hands coming together over his crotch subconsciously, “I guess it don’ matter who else knows,” he said sadly.

The Ministry was then ready once again. Hermione called Seamus to the stand.

“Just tell the truth, son,” Mr. Finnegan told him, escorting him to the stand as the trial commenced again.

“Seamus,” Hermione began, “We all know that you were abducted and that the ministry botched the whole thing, which is why we’re all here.”

“OBJECTION!” Baddock bellowed, and Fudge stood up in shock.

“Miss Granger!” He thundered at her, but Hermione simply smiled at him. Everyone on their side of the room grinned at her, including Harry.

“Let me rephrase that, sir,” Hermione said demurely, batting her eyes at Fudge, who sat back down. “Granted, the whole abduction issue is another case for the Ministry to deal with, even though it does directly involve Harry Potter. In your opinion, Seamus, doesn’t it seem like we’ve got the cart before the horse here? I mean, shouldn’t we get to the particulars of YOUR abduction before we can really try Harry for rescuing you?”

“Yes,” Seamus agreed. “I think that happened first. What about me?” He said pathetically.

Fudge shifted uncomfortably in his seat and the panel continued to buzz and whisper and scribble. Several of them shot very nervous glances at Mr. And Mrs. Finnegan.

“So, in your opinion, why do you think you were abducted?” Hermione asked, “And wouldn’t you, given your unique circumstances, have expected the Ministry to act?”

Seamus looked around at everyone and swallowed hard. His gaze fell upon his father, who nodded at him and smiled. “I was kidnapped,” he said in a firm voice, “because of what the Ministry did to me right before my First Year here at Hogwart’s. This is all my fault,” he added.

Surprisingly, it was Fudge who spoke next.

“How is this your fault?” He asked, genuinely confused. “Potter’s the one who caused the chaos.”

Seamus faced him and replied. “Because the Ministry of Magic had me emasculated with The Knife of Klingsor,” he announced, and everyone gasped again. There was a furor of discussion in the room, and Fudge was forced to conjure up a large gavel to bang on the table with while calling for order. When things had finally settled down, many shocked faces stared up at Seamus. Harry put his head down on the table.

“Miss Granger,” Fudge cleared his throat, “I don’t see what myth and legend has to do with Harry Potter’s crimes.”

“It’s not a myth, sir,” she countered, glancing at Hagrid. “It’s very real, and the Ministry knows it,” she stated, watching the nervous looks from some of the members behind Fudge. Malfoy sat up in his seat, and Hermione saw him shoot an odd look at Grimaldi. She smiled as Baddock appeared to lose all of his threads at once. It was obvious that no one had bothered to inform him of the secrets surrounding Seamus Finnegan.

“And I suppose you have evidence?” Fudge sighed, looking as if he were ready to bolt.

“Sir, I object!” Baddock shouted, “Whether or not the Finnegan boy is a Eunuch is irrelevant!”

Seamus shot him a look that could very well have killed him and stood up. He then undid his robe, turned to the panel, and dropped his shorts.

“Uh, er, umm, enter that into evidence, would you, Claire?” Fudge suggested to the Witch in the burgundy robe. “Somehow, that is. Thank you, Seamus,” he coughed, and the Irish lad put his shorts and robe back on with a wry grin.

“Hagrid,” Hermione then said calmly, “Would you please present the court with my main exhibit?”

Hagrid stood up, his immense form drawing the stares of everyone. He approached Fudge and reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he slammed the glittering Knife of Klingsor down on the table. It was still covered in dried blood, and Seamus pulled back with his face gone white.

At the defense table, Harry nearly wet himself at the sight of The Knife and slid down in his seat.

“Oh my God,” Fudge breathed. “Where did you get that?”

Hermione smirked at him. “Sir, may I present to the court The Knife of Klingsor. Some of you may already be familiar with it, since YOU ordered it used on Seamus last year. This is a Magical Knife that was used to emasculate the fifth Founder of Hogwart’s School, who was very probably the most powerful Wizard in history. It has passed down through the ages, being used to emasculate certain Wizarding boys who possess the Power that only The Knife can unleash. It was with this Knife that Seamus Finnegan was cut, making him into a very rare and Powerful Eunuch Wizard for reasons as yet known only to the Ministry of Magic.

“It was on the orders of the Ministry of Magic that he was cut by it, breaking up his family in the process and subjecting him to undue stress by being hidden at Hogwart’s by an Overlook-Me Charm during his First Year. It was his Powers that caused him to be abducted in the first place, and the subsequent cover-up by the Ministry of Magic that directly forced my client, Harry Potter, into attempting to rescue his friend. It is because of this that I move that ALL remaining charges against Harry Potter be dropped at once and that those responsible for forcing Harry’s hand in these events be brought out into the open!”

Once again, the room went deadly silent. Harry stared up at Seamus, helplessly twisting his hands in his cuffs. He couldn’t bear to have it all coming out like this, but there was nothing that he could do about it. He stood up quickly, knocking his chair over in the process, but a low voice from the other side of the room drew everyone’s attention.

“Er, Mr. Fudge, sir,” Baddock was saying in a shaky voice. Behind him, Malfoy had gone even paler. Next to Ollivander, Grimaldi was shaking in his seat. Everyone turned to look at them in surprise, and Baddock didn’t seem to know what to do next. “I object, again?”

“Overruled,” Fudge stated in a deadly tone, staring at The Knife of Klingsor on the table before him.

The Ministry then called for another recess, and it was already late in the day. The sun was going down when Fudge came back, looking somewhat ill, and called for Counsel to meet in private chambers. Hermione politely refused to do so unless she had an escort, which Fudge happily granted by having Dumbledore accompany them into a small antechamber behind the teachers’ table at the front of the Hall. Everyone watched in wonder as they disappeared from sight, amazed at the audacity of Hermione Granger to directly and openly accuse the Ministry of Magic of conspiracy!

“What do you think you’re playing at, missy?” Fudge demanded of her when they’d gotten settled in around a small table. “How dare you accuse the Ministry and have Seamus Finnegan parade himself like that?”

Hermione pulled some of her notes from her pocket and read, “…it is also perfectly acceptable for Underage Wizards to use Magic when their lives are threatened, or other lives are threatened…”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Fudge replied irritably, “I know, I helped write it. “But why are you turning this trial into a circus?”

“I’m not turning anything,” Hermione snapped. “I’m trying to expose why the Ministry isn’t acknowledging what happened to poor Seamus after THEY did what they did to him. Really, now! I mean, you had him emasculated, hid him, made him miserable, nearly destroyed his family, and saddled him with Power that he cahn’t handle. Power that, in fact, the Dark Wizards obviously will stop at nothing to get. He gets kidnapped, and YOU don’t even go after him! And here you are, laying the blame on Harry Potter for doing YOUR work and sending Voldemort packing again!”

Dumbledore couldn’t help but laugh. Fudge looked at him helplessly. “I daresay that Miss Granger has you over a barrel,” he said. “You’re going to have to explain it now, Cornelius. There are people out there who are going to talk, and the fact that the Ministry of Magic is out running about with a Magical Knife and emasculating little boys isn’t going to look too good for you, you know.”

“YOU agreed to this as well,” Fudge informed him, and both Baddock and Hermione gasped.

“I did,” Dumbledore agreed, nodding, “But I also agreed that he would be well taken care of and watched, aided as needed, and protected. It is not often that the Mark of Klingsor shows up on a boy, and with the recent fall of Voldemort, thanks to Harry,” he added harshly, “We could not afford to pass up the opportunity to harness Wild Power in a boy like Seamus again. It’s been a long time, and Grimaldi has all but disappeared. He’s done enough in his oddly long life to have to call upon him again.” Then the old professor thought for a moment.

“Cornelius, this is not like you,” he began. “You were just as upset over Harry Potter’s situation eleven years ago as the rest of us. Why have you suddenly turned on him so? What did you expect him to do, after the incident with The Sorcerer’s Stone? Hasn’t he proven himself in your eyes yet?”

Fudge shook his head. “Albus, I am one man. I am the head of the Ministry, yes, but it’s also a committee. I am not the sole voice in the laws that we Wizards have. There are procedures that we have to follow. When that many alarms go off and reports come in like they have this past summer, I have to act.” Then he paused, and his expression changed totally. “Gods, Albus, you mean to say that Potter really IS telling the truth, and that he DID really rescue Finnegan? Vol-uh-HIM … was really there, and it’s not a tall tale that the boy actually believes somehow?”

“Oh, like I believe any of THAT,” Hermione snorted in disgust. “Let’s get back to the trial, Mr. Fudge, sir. I’m having far too much fun with this as it is. I cahnt’ wait to drag out of you people just WHY no one could figure out how to find Seamus when Harry did it with a pair of dirty underwear and ONE little Spell! Why are you all so determined to put Harry through all of this?”

“You know,” Baddock interrupted, “I don’t like you much, Miss Granger,” he snapped. “How dare you assume to play lawyer…”

“Enough,” Fudge snapped as Dumbledore grinned at them and put a protective arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “Hermione, Albus,” he said after taking a deep breath, “It would seem that I have NOT gotten all of the facts here. I think I need to go over my notes and the reports again, and compare them to the boys’ stories. From the way I saw it, from what was handed in to the Ministry, it appeared that Potter was out running amok and breaking every rule that he ran into. We received only ONE report of his whereabouts when he was in Diagon Alley, and that one came from Mr. Ollivander. It didn’t make much sense though. I’m beginning to think that something is definitely amiss here.”

Then he thought hard for a moment once again. “But the other night, all those alarms! According to what was reported, Albus, a substantial chunk of Ireland should be a smoldering ruin by now, yet our investigators can’t find a bloody thing wrong anywhere near the Finnegan boy’s home!”

“Then I’d let it go,” Dumbledore suggested with a devious look, “Mark it up to error or misinterpreted communications.”

“This is insane!” Baddock barked at them. “What about all these reports, sir? Something big went on with Potter and we’ve got to get it out of him! We have to get to the bottom of this!”

“Mr. Baddock,” Fudge glowered at him, “Something is not right here. I have obviously been fed DISinformation on this case. Do you really think that I am so stupid as to try and ruin the life of the boy who brought down He-Who-Must-Not-Named over a few disruptions and adolescent highjinks? The Ministry has gone out of its way to keep Potter safe, and Finnegan as well. Believe me, mister, the LAST thing that we wanted to be made public is the fact that Finnegan is a Eunuch Wizard! You think I LIKED agreeing to that?”

“Potter broke the rules, sir,” Baddock repeated, “He deserves to be punished.”

“And he will be,” Dumbledore agreed, as Hermione gasped in shock. “I will see to that myself.”

“Oh, what are you going to, Professor, spank him?” Baddock sneered. “I hear that Potter’s got too much free run over this school the way it is.”

Dumbledore stared back at him with a look that Hermione had seldom seen on his face. Even when he’d shouted for silence in the Great Hall when the troll had been let in last Halloween, he’d not looked like he did at that moment.

“Mr. Baddock, you are dismissed,” Fudge snapped at him. “I shall appoint another prosecutor for the Ministry, IF I decided to continue with this trial. That will be all.”

Baddock glared at Fudge and stormed out of the room without bothering to shut the door. They followed him out, and Baddock said something to Lucius Malfoy and Draco as he picked up his briefcase and stormed out of the Great Hall.

“Look!” Hermione breathed, tugging at Fudge’s robe as Baddock went up the center aisle. They all watched as he went, and as Alessandro Grimaldi watched him go with a very odd look on his face. Not realizing that he’d been spotted, he fixed the back of Harry’s head with a wicked look and his nose twitched. Malfoy was watching them as well, and he was very, very pale. Draco, however, only looked mildly interested.

Fudge then cleared his throat and returned to the center stage, banging his gavel and calling for order.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said, glaring around at the members of the Ministry of Magic seated with him, “I have sacked Mr. Baddock and shall need to appoint a new counsel for the Ministry’s case against Harry Potter. What’s left of it, that is,” he added, grinning at Hermione, who blushed a bit. “New information has been brought to my attention that will require a more extended investigation. In the meantime, I must suggest that we all have a bite and retire for the evening. We will reconvene after breakfast in the Great Hall, here, tomorrow.”

Everyone stood up but Harry. He looked up at Dumbledore imploringly, and Fudge nodded at him. The Minister of Magic then raised his Wand and flicked it at Harry, causing his chains to pop open and fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Harry rubbed at his chaffed wrists, not sure of what to do as he stared at the Minister of Magic and his colleagues. In a moment, Ron and Seamus and Wood were surrounding him.

“As I said, it’s time to eat,” Fudge declared. “And just because you’ve been unchained, Harry, does not mean that you have been cleared. You are NOT to leave the Castle for any reason, and you will be escorted back to Gryffindor Tower after we’re done. I would suggest, however, that everyone who can possibly find a bunk in the Tower accompany you there for the night. I have reason to believe that you might need some company,” Fudge said in oily tone, glancing about and noting some of the expressions of his colleagues. It appeared that at least half of them were not impressed with his call.

After dinner, they all retired to Gryffindor Tower. Harry was feeling much better after another shot of Madame Pomfrey’s Potion and a good meal, and he protested loudly when Wood insisted on carrying him up the stairs. He gave in though, when he remembered what Old Harry had told him about the Timeline that he’d managed to avoid. When they arrived at the entrance, the Fat Lady was there to greet them. Oliver Wood sat Harry back on his feet and tussled his hair, rubbing at his arms.

“Yer not as little as yeh were last year,” he observed. Harry grinned at him, and the Fat Lady scratched her nose.

“Oh, go on in,” she told them, “I’ve already spoken to Professor Dumbledore, you know.” And with that, she swung her frame open so that they could all go in.

“Where is the Professor anyway?” Harry asked as the adults made a fuss over getting the boys all settled in to their old room in the First Years’ Dormitories.

“He’s staying up late with Mr. Fudge to go over Ministry notes, he said,” Arthur Weasley told them. “And once you’re all in for the night, NO going back out! I knew there had to be something wrong at the Ministry before you all took off like you did, and I think Mr. Fudge is finally beginning to admit that he’s being lied to. That or he doesn’t WANT to believe it,” Mr. Weasley concluded.

The boys all looked at one another and Harry was just about to say something when Mrs. Weasley shoved a toothbrush into his hand and smacked his bottom. “ALL of you, to the showers, now!” She ordered. “When you’re done there, come right BACK here and we’ll see you to bed.”

“Mum!” Ron protested, but she silenced him with a look. The Mum-Look, as Seamus later referred to it when they were on their way back to the Dormitories after a fast shower. It had been difficult, but Harry had somehow managed to keep his back towards Wood during the showers. The fact that Ron knew didn’t bother him, but Harry kept thinking about the look on Wood’s face when he’d learned the truth about Seamus. He still didn’t want anyone else to know that he was a Eunuch as well, and he was worried that it was going to come out in the trial the next day. He still got light-headed around Wood, but thanks to his lack of hormones, he’d managed to put on a straight face and made it through without so much as stammering. Wood, however, hadn’t taken it so well. He kept sneaking glances at Seamus, acting like something was really bothering him.

“I jus’ don’ get how they could do that to ya, Seamus,” he was thinking aloud as they came back to the First Years’ Dormitory, “An’ then NOT go after ya when ya wuz grabbed. An’ how did ya GET grabbed to begin with? Makes no sense to me, if’n bein’ a Eunuch is all so important to ‘em.”

“Ya know, he’s right,” Ron added, as they put on their pajamas for the sake of decency. It was still very possible that they’d be descended upon by the ladies again to be fussed over, after all.

“All I know is that we did all their work for them, and they’re trying to hang ME over it,” Harry mumbled, glad that he wouldn’t be spending another night alone in the Dormitory.

“Speakin’ of hangin’,” Ron added, “Where’s Hermione?”

“With the ladies,” Seamus added, “Prob’ly borin’ ‘em to death with her latest defenses,” he said, not knowing that the almost self-same conversation had already taken place with Hermione and Fudge and Dumbledore in private chambers earlier.

“From what Dad said, Harry,” Ron thought aloud, “I’d say someone is out to get you. But who?”

Their speculations were cut short, however, when the ladies did return to make sure that they were all safely in bed. Harry, Ron and Seamus took their old beds, and Wood took the one that would have normally belonged to Dean Thomas. They all lay awake talking and wondering what was going on for quite some time. Ron was still convinced that Malfoy had a lot to do with it, and Seamus was certain that there were still Dark Wizards within the Ministry itself. He was obviously still quite put off not only about his castration, but the failure of the Ministry to rescue him. He was just about to start going into detail when Hagrid appeared in the doorway holding an all-too familiar bottle.

“Whut ‘r yeh all still doin’ up?” He asked, going to Harry’s bed and handing him the bottle.

He took a swig and let Hagrid tuck back in. “What is that stuff?” Wood asked.

“It’s so I don’t freak out when I wake up,” Harry explained. “The Temporal Dementia, you know.” Then he thought of something else. “Hagrid,” he asked in sudden surprise, “How come if they got a note from the Temporal Affairs Office, they didn’t bring that up at the trial TOO?”

“Good question,” Hagrid replied, getting up to go. “I’m sure we’ll find out tomorrow, though.”