Harry Potter and the Knife of Klingsor, Part 6

“Harry, don’t be a fool,” the fat man said. “You’ll end up dead or expelled!”

Harry glared at him, angrier than he could ever remember being. Despite what had just happened with Darby, despite the fact that he’d just told them that he knew all about a very top secret Wizarding fact, and despite the fact that he KNEW that Voldemort was out there somewhere and was very probably responsible for Seamus’ abduction, they still weren’t listening to him! All they wanted to do was quote rules and do paperwork!

“You ‘av to deal with this shit at work every day, Dad?” Ron asked in a dangerous tone, glaring at the men from the Ministry of Magic.

Mr. Weasley glanced up from the kitchen table, where their impromptu meeting had taken up residence. He was just about to say something to Ron when Mrs. Weasley came back down the stairs, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Boys,” she said softly, “I think you should go upstairs and let Arthur sort this all out. That little fellow, Darren…”

“Darby,” Ron corrected her.

“Darby, yes, well he’s very upset and he doesn’t need to be alone right now.”

“Let’s go,” Harry said to Ron, “There’s a foul smell in here anyway.” They went back upstairs without another look at the members of the Ministry of Magic.

“Can you believe that?” Ron cried, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder at the men at the table as they climbed the winding staircase. “Can you believe they’re just sittin’ there with their thumbs up their arses and arguin’ about paperwork and damage control when V-vol … HE’S got Seamus?”

“They knew about him,” Harry thought aloud. “They, I mean … whoever’s helping Voldemort … knew that Seamus had the Mark, they knew he’d been cut. If he was that important, Ron, and even had the Overlook-Me Spell on him at school, then doesn’t it stand to reason that someone should have been watching him at home, too? If they thought he was in danger at Hogwart’s, why just turn him loose on holiday with no protection? I remember … someone said something,” Harry growled, his brows furrowed in thought and his scar bunched up from it. “McGonagall!” He cried. “She said the Muggles could see him, that he wouldn’t be lonely at home. But why? It makes no sense.”

“You sound like Hermione, now.”

Harry grinned at him. “I wish she was here, she could sort out this ruddy mess, and fast. I feel like I’m missing something, though. Something on the train we were all talking about.”

“We ate candy til we almost puked,” Ron thought, “You went to take a shit, or something, you were gone so damn long. Then you came back, we ate some more, we slammed on Slytherin House for a bit, napped, Hermione read and chattered …”

But they’d arrived at Ron’s door, and they were no closer to placing the stray thought. They looked at each other, shrugged in unison, almost laughed at that, and stepped inside.

There was a loud crash as Darby, sitting up in Ron’s bed and reading Simple Spells for First Year Students, screamed and threw the book at them as he jumped up. It missed, hitting a shelf and sending back issues of Quidditch Quarterly all over the floor, along with other assorted collectibles. Darby’s head smacked into a lower shelf over Ron’s bed, and the rest of Ron’s old schoolbooks fell in a heap on top of him.

“Wha’s all the fuss?” a voice called from the door, as Fred and George nosed in. Then they spotted Darby, digging himself out from under the books and rubbing his head. He looked as if he were about to cry again. “What, we keepin’ him then?” Fred asked.

Harry went to the bedside and helped dig Darby out as Ron reorganized his magazine collection. Darby’s eyes darted this way and that around the room, as if he were afraid that something were going to bite him. Then Harry sat down on the cleared bed.

“Th-there’s a h-huge r-r-r-rat in here somewhere!” Darby squeaked, his pale eyes wide. He grabbed Harry’s arm and Harry winced. “Is that lady coming back? I wanna go home!”

“You gonna tell ‘im, or ya want me to do it?” Ron asked, looking about on the floor. “And the rat’s mine. Scabbers. He’s tame. Fat and lazy is all, don’t worry.”

“P-pet rats are wh-white,” Darby stammered.

Fred and George laughed. “Muggle to the bone,” George replied.

“I was a Muggle for the first ten years of my life,” Harry replied. “And I’ve been in the Wizarding World for one now. And I still get surprised every day! You leave him alone!”

So it was, while Darby clung to Harry as if in fear of his life, the four of them – mostly Fred and George – explained life in the Wizarding world. He seemed to be all ears, and Fred and George were required to demonstrate a few cheap parlor tricks with their Wands for him as proof. Darby eased up on Harry’s arm a bit when Ron gave him a Quidditch magazine. He stared in wonder at the moving pictures, turning the pages back and forth trying to figure it out. He was a good listener, though, and in the space of an hour or two he’d begun nodding his head and cocking an eyebrow now and then as he listened and learned.

Finally, it was Harry who dropped the bomb on him. “After what you did with my Wand, Darby, there’s no doubt about it. YOU are a Wizard, like it or not, and there’s no going back now. I’m sure the Hogwart’s Owl will arrive, forwarded here very soon with your letter of admission. Professor Dumbledore doesn’t miss a trick, you know.”

“Who’s he?” Darby asked, and then thought for a moment. “I … I cahn’t be a … Wizard! I’m jus’ … jus’ Darby.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and his scar scrunched up again. “I said the exact same thing to Hagrid last summer,” he mused, smiling.

“Who’s Hagrid?”

“Dumbledore’s The Headmaster of the school we go back to on September 1,” Ron supplied. “Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Rubeus Hagrid is the Gamekeeper and overall good guy you go to when you’ve got a problem. The Owl could be here anytime tomorrow morning. That’s how we get mail.”

“Oh!” Darby said in a surprised voice, just as Mrs. Weasley burst through the door with a smoking mug in her hand. She looked the four of them over as if trying to pick out a murder suspect, then handed the mug to Darby.

“Wha’s this?” He asked, sniffing it and wrinkling his nose.

“Jus’ drink it, Luv,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “Settle your nerves, it will.”

“One thing that crosses Muggle and Wizard worlds, both, Darby,” Ron told him, “Is this – MUM! She’s the MUM. Get it?”

Darby made a small urp/gulp sound and nodded. He sucked the smoking potion down in one gulp and burped loudly. The boys laughed.

“Good one!” George applauded.

“It tasted bad!” Darby complained, “And why the smoke?”

“All Wizard potions smoke, especially the medical ones,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

They talked for a bit longer, but not much, since Darby’s eyes had begun to droop almost as soon as he’d swallowed the potion. He seemed to be relaxing, even lightening his grip on Harry’s near-numb arm. He literally fell asleep in mid-sentence, while trying to help Harry and Ron come up with an answer to their problem of why Seamus wasn’t guarded at home and how he’d been abducted.

“We jus’ –yawn- did whut’e’er we wanted to. Seamus’ dad was never there, ‘e left while -yawn- Seamus was first off to school. His mum wuz OK, but she never -yawn- paid us much mind. Too upset, I figger. Only one wut did mind us wuz ‘is cat, a big gray tabby … –yawn- …” Darby’s head jerked back up, his eyes went wide, then he yawned again, a yawn so great that it almost dislocated his jaw. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and said, “Huge kitty, striped female, foller’d us all o’er e’erywhere … yowled a’ us too … ‘n …”

But Darby had fallen fast asleep; his closely cropped blonde head tilted to the right and his mouth fell slightly open. He was breathing slowly and evenly, and Harry got up slowly. Ron leaned over to examine Darby’s earring, touching it gently.

Fred and George left quietly, gesturing at Ron to come out later on and fill them in more.

“Wicked,” Ron breathed, touching Darby’s ear. “I wan’ one ‘o these!” Then his eyes went wide as Scabbers came out from under the pillow and curled up on Darby’s shoulder.

“Did he say BIG STRIPED CAT? Harry! She’s bloody brilliant!” Ron cried, as Harry shushed him.

Ron grinned and patted Darby’s cheek. “He’s gone, Harry. Mum’s sleepin’ draught’ll keep ‘im out for a good twelve hours, maybe more.”

“I might ask her for one, too,” Harry sighed, staring out the window with a lost look on his face. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was stained a brilliant mix of reds, oranges and purples. Harry gazed into it, reaching out with his mind, trying to sort it all out. “I doubt if I sleep any tonight,” he said, giving Ron a pleading look.

“When DO you sleep, Harry?” Ron joked, but Harry had turned sideways to the window. The sunset reflected in his glasses, turning them the color of blood as the sun sank. Harry felt his heart sinking as well, realizing that he had no clue whatsoever as to where Voldemort’s helper –for surely he had to have had one in his current state – had taken Seamus.

Ron stood beside his friend and laid an arm across his slumped shoulders. Harry bowed his head, and a single tear ran down his cheek.

“He sent him to me, Ron,” he choked. “He broke the BIG rule and told him to get me, to use Magic! He’s gone, and he thinks that I’m coming to save him. Oh, Ron, what do I do?”

“Got a dry shoulder, here,” Ron offered.

But Harry shook his head and swiped the tear from his face, knocking his glasses askew. “I can’t,” he replied, “I won’t! I won’t stand here and go all to pieces and cry like a baby. He’s gone too far, Ron. He’s ruined my life at every chance, and now he’s taken Seamus to try and come back to mortal life and get me again! I won’t let him do it, Ron.” Then he swallowed hard, straightened his specs, and raised an eyebrow.

“WHO’s ‘bloody brilliant’, anyway?” Harry asked, straightening his specs, but then it hit him. “MCGONAGALL! Just like in class that first day we were late!”

“SHE’S been following Seamus around in her alternate form, Harry. She’s been protecting him at home!” Then Ron paused. His face paled.

“But where was she when Vold-erm-…-HIS helper took Seamus?”

“I’ll find that out too, add it to the list,” Harry replied darkly.

Ron then grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. “Listen to me, Harry! You don’t even know where to look! Where do we start? We need a plan! We need brains. There’s so many missing pieces, here. We need … we need …” Ron thought, “Bloody hell! What DO we need?”

There was a long pause as they stared at each other.

“HERMIONE!” They both shouted in unison. Scabbers squeaked at them, annoyed, but Darby didn’t stir.

They got a letter from her the next morning. Darby had slept through the night, and showed no sign of stirring yet, but Harry hadn’t. Ron awoke to find him sitting in his Quidditch printed boxers on the windowsill, his bare feet dangling over the edge. “You wanna watch that, Harry, we’re several stories up, you know.” Then he remembered some of Harry’s more spectacular Quidditch moves and grinned. “Heights, I know … oh mighty Seeker of Gryffindor House!”

Harry managed a smile. “You up all night?” Ron asked, coming to sit next to him. He put his arm around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry leaned heavily upon him. They sat in silence, watching the gray dawn grow brighter and brighter, and finally saw a black speck moving towards them fast. “It’s an owl!” Ron cried.

Sure enough, Hermione’s owl swooped in and landed on Harry’s lap. Seconds later, Hedwig came swooping in with two letters. Then a smaller, strange looking owl landed behind her. Hedwig looked rather pissed off.

“What the hell?” Ron asked, staring at the flock of owls as Harry tore the envelopes open.

“Busy night,” Harry said to him, reading Hermione’s letter. “She wants to meet us at Diagon Alley for school. We cant’ wait for her, Ron. This one’s from Hagrid.” Harry read it quickly. “He’s pissed,” he commented.

“You told him!?” Ron gasped.

“Ron, it’s Hagrid. He won’t leak it.”

“Oh, yea …” Ron agreed. “What’s he say?”

“He says we should ‘get our bloomin’ arses to Waterford or wherever the hell it was, and look for clues. I shouldn’t’a told ya’s that … send Hedwig if’n ya need me. I’ll tell Dumbledore, if’n he don’t already know, and only if ya’s want me ter.’ God, I love that man,” Harry said.

“Who’s the others from?” Ron asked impatiently.

Harry ripped the first one from Hedwig open, his hands shaking. “She had a LONG night,” Harry told Ron. “I’m sorry, girl,” Harry told the owl. Hedwig hooted at him at flopped on the bed next to Darby. Scabbers looked at her, flicked his tail, and went back to sleep. “It’s from Hermione, they crossed, I’d assume, or Hermione made her wait while she wrote back to me.”

Hedwig hooted again and Harry began to read.

“That’s our Hermione,” Ron commented. “Who’s the next from?”

“Dumbledore,” Harry whispered, “And I already know what it says without reading it. He’s going to tell us to let them handle it, and stay here. Well, I guess he’s just going to have to get ready to expel me, then,” Harry declared defiantly, tearing the letter open.

Harry turned the letter over. “It’s from Prof. McGonagall,” he breathed. “She’s alright! But …how’d she know?”

“READ IT!” Ron cried.

“He’s got the hots for her, you know, but go on!” Ron said.

“It’s like they expect us to go after him,” Ron mused, as they made their way in bathrobes down the stairs. “Hell, they think we’re already gone.”

“I almost was, last night,” Harry confessed, “But something made me stay.”

“Can you eat?” Ron asked. “It’s a long ride, you know.”

Harry smiled at him, realizing that he was indeed hungry as the smells of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking took his mind off of his troubles.

“How’s Darby?” She asked them as the entered the kitchen.

“Still out cold,” Ron replied. “He’s so far gone, he’s not even got a mornin’ stiffy.” Then he realized what he’d said.

“RONALD WEASLEY!” His mother choked, spilling milk all over the counter.

“Well, all boys have it in the morning, Ma’am,” Harry tried to help. Mrs. Weasley gave him the ‘Mum look’.

“I know,” she sighed in resignation. “I’m sick to death of penises. Men, men, men! And me with only one little daughter! What’s a poor woman to do?” She asked in a tragic voice.

“Cut it off?” Ron supplied, his face flaming.

“Don’t tempt me,” she replied, waving a knife at him. Harry felt a chill, and then his scar began to itch.

“Don’t dig at it, so, Harry, you’ll scratch it raw! Does it do that often?” Mrs. Weasley asked, coming over to examine it.

“It did it on the train ride home and …” Harry started to say, but then he jumped up with a start, fork in hand and flinging a sausage across the room.

“MALFOY!” He screamed, still digging at his scar, as Mrs. Weasley jumped back in shock.

“Not at breakfast, Harry, please,” Ron said sarcastically, “I’m tryin’ to eat.”

“No, Ron! On the train! When I went to the toilet, my scar was itching and it seemed as if someone were pulling on my robes. I scratched at it then, and I followed the pull. It’s hurt before, you know, like at school, but it never itched. So I ended up in the Slytherin car, and in Malfoy’s cabin. He was really a wreck, you know, what with the spanking and all, and he was digging at his arm! Scratching at it like mad! His LEFT arm!”

Ron choked and spit a bit of egg across the room, his eyes as wide as saucers. Mrs. Weasley pounded him on the back until he begged her off. “You asked him ‘bout it, I take it?”

Harry nodded. “He didn’t say much though. Between his grades, the spanking, and all the other stuff, he was pretty scared to go home. That’s why I had your father put in a call to Family Services about him. He said something like ‘you don’t know my father’. Ron, I think he tried to kill himself and …” but Harry stopped, realizing that Mr. Arthur Weasley had entered the kitchen and that Mrs. Weasley was staring at them as if they’d just sprouted tentacles.

“Draco Malfoy is just fine, boys,” Mr. Weasley said. “And I must say, Harry, that I’m proud of you for being so worried about someone you hate so much. Draco is very much alive and seeing a therapist, as is his father. THAT should keep THEM out of trouble for a while.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry replied, as Mrs. Weasley fussed over his scar and put some kind of smelly salve on it.

They finished their breakfast in silence and returned to Ron’s room, exchanging conspiratorial looks.

Darby was just beginning to try and wake up, sitting up in Ron’s bed. As they entered the room, the small boy stared at them, blinked, and then looked around at the assorted animals lying about on the bed with him. “This is the weirdest dream I’ve ever had,” he muttered. He was, however, very careful on getting up so as not to disturb the owls and rat and a funny looking platypus-like thing that had wandered in. He stood up, stretched, yawned, and looked out the window. He also failed to realize that Mrs. Weasley had obviously stripped him naked before tucking him in.

Ron and Harry looked at one another and grinned. Darby was not only tanned, as they’d seen when he’d showed up shirtless the previous night, but since he was naked, they also saw that he didn’t have any tan lines. Anywhere. He yawned again and turned around, then jumped back with a little yell, his hands flying down over himself in embarrassment. Ron, however, seemed to know just what to say.

“Relax, Darby. When you live in a house this small with a whole gang of brothers, you get used to it. There’s not a whole lot of privacy to go around.”

“I … you … I mean …,” Darby tried to talk, looking around Ron’s cluttered room, namely the flying Quidditch players on the posters, “I … uh … This isn’t a bad dream, is it, Ron?”

“No,” Ron told him, digging around in a drawer to try and find something for Darby to wear. “Not like you had time to pack an overnight bag, now, is it?”

Then Darby saw Harry, and he relaxed a bit. He flushed again, his face going red, but he lowered his hands as Ron tossed him a pair of boxers printed with owls in flight. Next came a pair of questionable socks, and a Gryffindor T-shirt. Harry looked away, then immediately looked back at Darby in a double take.

Darby’s was built about the same as Harry – skinny with some ribs showing. He was also circumcised. Very circumcised. In fact, Darby had been cut so tightly that his penis – which was just a bit smaller than Harry’s, he figured – seemed to be standing up half erect. The corona at the edge of the glans was very pronounced, and Harry didn’t realize he was staring.

Very soon, the three of them were sitting naked on Ron's bed in a small circle. All three boys had throbbing erections out for comparison as they looked at each other’s naked bodies. Harry and Ron could not stop looking at Darby's 3 1/2 inch cock, which had risen to full erection. His circumcision scar was very evident, far down on the shaft.

Unlike their uncut dicks, Darby’s looked completely different. The cut had been made so tightly, that when his little cock was fully hard, there was no loose skin at all to pull on.

“Thas gon’ta complicate matters a bit,” Ron mused.

Ron told Darby to watch what he and Harry could do and then when he felt ready to join them, he could. He and Harry then both took a hold of their erections and started to slowly stroke the loose skin up and down the shafts.As they used their right hands to pump their cocks, they used their left hands to play with their balls.Darby first played with his balls. Like Ron, his balls had dropped a tiny bit and so hung down just a little. He liked the feeling and so took a hold of his dick, like Harry and Ron were doing.

He gave his dick one stroke and then let go and cried out in pain.Harry and Ron stopped wanking off and after some talking and taking a much closer look at Darby's dick, and touching it a few times, they figured out what he needed.

Ron got up off his bed and walked to his bathroom. He came out with a jar in his hand. He sat down next on the bed again, next to Darby and opened the jar. He used three fingers to scoop out a large glob of blue hair cream that he used to give his hair that wet, slicked back look every morning, and smeared it all over Darby’s still hard penis.With the gel coating, Ron took a nice hold of Darby’s dick and started to stroke it for the cute boy. Ron used his left hand to stroke his own hard dick.Darby could not believe the feeling he was getting by another boy rubbing his most private part.

Harry stroked his own dick and used his free hand to rub and play with Darby’s balls.Darby could not just sit still, and so he reached out with both hands and took a hold of both Harry and Ron’s balls.All three boys got into a good sexual high, as they stimulated each other. Hand pumped on dicks, and hands rolled, pinched, rubbed, and squeezed boy balls at different speeds from real slow to very fast.This went on for about a half hour and the orgams hit, and they hit HARD.

Ron was the first to go off. His piss hole opened up wide and a rope of thin boy cum spit out and hit Darby right on his cock. As a second blob of of thin cum shot out and hit Darby's balls, the first blast had mixed with the hair gel to add to the stimulation on Darby.Harry’s hand rubbed in the second and third blast of Ron's semen all over Darby’s balls.

All of this extra cum-induced stimulation was too much and Darby had his first ever orgasm. Darby was seeing flashes of light and his whole body started to shake. His dick twitched hard, trying to expel fluids his body was not yet able to make.Both Ron and Harry stopped rubbing Darby, as they were a little worried. Darby was gasping like a fish out of water and Harry was on the edge of running for help, but stopped himself as Darby calmed down from his orgasm.Darby recovered from his orgasm and finally sat up. With a huge smile on his face he said, "Holy flickerin’ schnit. That was so GREAT!! I just have to do that again some time real soon."

All of the boys laughed, and then Ron made the comment about Harry not having his orgasm. They got Harry to lie down, and Ron scooped out some more hair gel and slicked up Harry’s now soft penis. Darby took some of the hair gel and used it to rub Harry’s balls. As Darby's greased up hand stimulated Harry’s balls, Ron’s lubed up hand stroked Harry’s other magic wand. Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed all of the feelings going on in his body. All on their own.Harry could not last long with all the bliss his body was receiving. His hard-hitting orgasm came on fast and took over his mind and body. His brain went into overload as he had his dry orgasm.Both Ron and Darby kept on rubbing and stroking Harry's sex organs while he had his orgasm, and kept on doing it even after his orgasm was over. Harry at first enjoyed the extra rubbing and then it started to hurt a little. He told them to stop, but Ron winked at Darby and with a smile, they kept on going.

It was not long before Harry started to suffer from the pleasureful agony of a second and forced dry orgasm. This orgasm was different from the others he had in the past. A small clear bead of sticky fluid came out, but because of all the hair gel, both Ron and Darby missed it. Only Harry knew about it, since he felt the fluid travel up his piss tube and out the hole. It was the beginning of his first wet orgasm, but he didn’t say a word.

When it was over, they began cleaning up.

Darby’s face had turned a pale shade of pink, as slipped the boxers on. Then he pulled on the socks and held up the T-shirt. Ron and Harry were just looking at him. “What?” he asked.

Ron grinned at him, and Harry coughed and began rummaging for clothing as well. Ron, however, simply opened his robe and slid his boxers off, scratching his balls as he did. “Oh, that,” Darby realized, “Guess you don’t see many circumcised boys, huh?”

“We were just discussing that last night,” Harry told him, “Why anyone would want to do it to their son. Sure made wanking tough, didn’t it?”

“Well in my case,” Darby told them, pulling on the T-shirt and standing back up, “It was so tight that it hurt when I got hard, it itched a lot, and I couldn’t force it back to keep it clean enough. I was glad to see it go.”

“They took off quite a bit, though, didn’t they?” Ron asked, slipping into a pair of shorts and an old V-necked Quidditch jersey, as Harry rooted around for something to wear.

“I wanted them to take it off,” Darby informed them, “It was making me miserable. I had the doctor use the longest guided ring he had.”

“How’d they do it?” Ron asked, fascinated.

“Yes, did they just slice it off or what?” Harry asked, staring over the tops of his specs.

Darby shook his head. “Firs’ thing they do is wash ya down wi’ al-chee-hol. Then you lay still while the doctor pushes the skin back’erds. When ‘is all the way back, he takes this plastic thing, like a little cup wi’ a handle on the end. He puts it on yer cock, and the end of the cup has a plastic ring. He fits it on, has’ t’ find the right size, so the ring is like far back yer cock. I ‘ad ‘im use one fer back as ‘e could go. When its on, he pulls the skin back over it, down over the ring so’s only the handle is a’stickin’ out the end o’ yer cock.”Harry and Ron looked quickly at one another, mouths agape.

“Then,” Darby continued, “’E has someone help tie this stretchy string really tight around the skin, wrappin’ it about the ring which is UNDER yer foreskin. They ties it off real tight, stings like hell, it does! Then ‘e breaks the handle off when ‘e’s trimmed the string. Only part what really hurt wuz when he cut the skin off ahead ‘o the ring and string. I had so damn much of it, ‘e said it ‘ad to go or it’d be infected when it rotted. So ‘e cuts ‘er off, din’t bleed much at all. Like a week later, me foreskin stub jus’ turned black and fell off, ring and all in the bath.”

Harry and Ron both whined, covering their crotches with looks of pain on their faces. “Better you than me,” Ron moaned.

“I don’t ever wanna see that happen,” Harry replied, continuing to get dressed despite the throbbing erection Darby’s story had given him.

“Me neither,” Ron agreed.

“Bit presumptuous though, don’t you think?” he asked, “I mean, the Gryffindor shirt?” Harry asked, unconsciously touching himself as if making sure that his own foreskin was still there. Darby leaned over a bit, then pulled the front of this shorts open and looked down. He looked back at Harry, then back down. Then he looked at Harry again.

“Blimey, ‘er is a good chunk ‘o it gone, in’t there?” He stated, looking somewhat stunned. “I din’t realize just ‘ow much o’ me cock ‘ey cut off ‘til I told ya’s all ‘bout it! You’s got lots more cock than I do now.”

Harry got dressed in his favorite T-shirt and a pair of old shorts, which had once been Dudley’s. They actually fit, since Mrs. Weasley had downsized them with her Wand, complaining endlessly about the state of Harry’s wardrobe and promising to mend it.

“So, where were we before we started comparing penises?” Ron asked, “Something about Malfoy?”

“Who’s Malfoy?” Darby asked.

Harry groaned and Ron rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’ll get to know HIM,” Harry sighed. “One thing to remember, Darby, is this – not all Wizards are good. Some go Bad. Draco Malfoy is a boy our age, in Slytherin House at School, and it’s highly suspected that his whole Family is Bad, and in support of the Dark Lord Voldemort, the very worst of the Wizards what ever went Bad.”

“You mean like the guy who grabbed Seamus?” Darby asked, his voice quaking at bit at the memory. “The one wot killed yer folks an’ all?”

Harry gapsed. “Did Seamus tell you that?” He asked, stunned.

Darby nodded, the memory of what they’d just done to one another crystal clear in his mind. “Seamus told me all about ya, ‘Arry.” Then he looked away, almost sadly. He paused a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “He … he really likes ya, ya know.”

Harry said nothing; he just pursed his lips and gave Darby a slight nod, feeling a wave of guilt at what had just happened. It wasn’t the fact that Seamus hadn’t been there to share it – it was the fact that even if he HAD been there, he couldn’t have shared it. Harry thought about Darby’s radical circumcision, and of Seamus’ total emasculation. It’s not fair, he thought once again.

Ron nodded, getting back to the subject. Harry wasn’t looking too good, and Ron was worried about him. “Malfoy’s one of his helpers, we think. Harry here kicked Vold-er-HIS his arse so bad a few weeks ago that he’s bound to need help. He was inhabiting the body of Professor Quirrell, our used-to-be-teacher at School.”

“I did NOT kick his arse, Ron,” Harry replied, looking abashed. “I got lucky.” Then he stopped to think for a bit. Ron and Darby watched him.

“It all adds up,” Harry thought aloud. “Malfoy’s upset on the train, so bad that he’s calling someone, not knowing even, to come and sit with him. Then he mentions trying to kill himself with his own Wand. His arm is itching, McGonagall mentions just THAT in her letter, and my scar itches when it comes up and when I’m near him. My scar used to hurt when Voldemort was lurking about, in Quirrell’s body at school. The man who grabbed Seamus had Voldemort’s Wand, and Hedwig tore a chunk out of his arm. Darby says he had a snake tattoo or something like it, and Voldemort and his followers, for the most part, all come from Slytherin House – whose symbol is a serpent.

“Voldemort needs a new body, or some way to regenerate his Powers so he can build a new one somehow. Then Seamus gets grabbed, right in front of a Muggle, to boot. Add to that the fact that Seamus is a Eunuch Wizard, born on the Solstice, and we’ve got just three days to find him before the full moon of the month following the Solstice. He’s also just turned twelve, I don’t know if the age matters or not. It’s also someone strong enough to knock Professor McGonagall silly, to grab him and get away with him. What do you think?”

“Seamus is a what?” Darby asked.

“Er … a Wizard,” Ron replied, trying to sidetrack him.

Darby shook his head, his spiked haircut gone flat. “No, the other word, ‘yoo-nik’. Ya call Seamus that ‘cause ‘e ain’t got no cock ‘n balls?”

Harry and Ron gaped at him, jaws nearly hitting the floor. “You know?” They both gasped in shock.

“’Course I know, Seamus showed me. Fer God’s sake, we been friends since we’z babies. We swim naked in the pond at the end ‘o the road where … where …” But Darby’s eyes had glazed over and he began to shake his head. A small and low whine began in his throat, then he began to shiver and cry. “It wuz las’ year,” he choked, “Seamus din’t wanna play no more, af’er ‘e got better. They said ‘e got bad sick an’ … an’ he was home fer so long. They woul’d’na lemme come over … an’ I thought … I thought he … he jus’ din’t like me no more! But … but it was cuz they … they … cuz ‘o whut they dun t’ him, why ‘e was sick in bed fer so long, wunt it?”

Ron and Harry went to him, trying to comfort him, and he flinched. He stared at them for a moment, and then went all to bits. The boys did the best they could do to comfort him, which mainly consisted of patting his back and just holding him while he cried himself out. When Darby finally got a hold of himself, he looked at the two young Wizards, perplexed. “’Ow come Seamus got cut and you two didn’t? I … I don’ wanna be a W-w-wizard, if’t they’re gon’ta do THAT to ME too!”

So it was that Harry and Ron took turns explaining the Mark and the Knife of Klingsor to Darby. When they were finished, Darby’s hand was in the front of his shorts and he looked as if he were about to be sick. “But not you two?” he asked. “Hardly seems fair.”

“HELL NO!” Ron exclaimed, “I mean, shit, I love Seamus like a little brother or somethin’, but no way is anyone getting’ near me with that bloody Knife! Damn, Darby, you’re a better man ‘n’ I am, for even getting’ circumcizered like ya did. I’d ‘av rather died!”

“Circumcised,” Darby corrected him, sniffling.

Harry, however, looked as if he were miles away again. “That was why they took him,” he whispered, turning to face them with a strange look in his emerald eyes. “They want his Wild Powers. They want his young body. They’ll do terrible things to him unless I find him and stop them.”

Ron and Darby stared back at him. “So you think it was Mr. Malfoy what grabbed him?” Ron asked, running over the scenario in his mind.

Harry nodded. “But the first thing we need to do is just what we were told. Get to Waterville, Ireland and start looking for clues. Then we try and find some proof, and hopefully, Seamus too.”

They waited until after lunch, which put a serious dent in Mrs. Weasley’s stores of food. Darby ate like he was starving, which he probably was, and had caused lunch to be served a bit earlier than usual since he’d slept late. After eating, however, when the three of them had slipped off, he asked Harry a question that stopped he and Ron in their tracks.

“Your da’ brought me here, Ron, with the chimney thing. Is that ‘ow we’re getting’ back to Waterville, Ireland? And I really need to tell me parents where I am, ya know. Where am I, anyhow?”

“South end of the UK, east,” Ron informed him.

Darby whistled. “Long walk,” he reckoned.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Harry admitted, as they headed towards the small barn where the broomsticks had all been parked the night before. “We can’t use the floo*, someone would know. I think we’re going to have to fly.”

“Blimey, ‘Arry, are ya daft?” Ron asked, “My old Cleansweep couldn’t have a hope in hell ‘o keepin’ up with that Nimbus 2000 o’ yours! And what about Darby? He can’t fly yet!”

“You can FLY?” Darby asked in wonder.

“We ride broomsticks,” Harry informed him, “Like in the posters on Ron’s wall.”

“Oh.”

“So what do we do?” Ron asked. “Other than get expelled for this?”

Harry sat down and leaned up against the wall, taking his Nimbus 2000 in his lap. He stroked the polished handle and thought, his brows creased. He was thinking so hard that for a moment, Ron thought that he was going to burst an aneurysm.

“Ron, do older broomsticks have a neutral gear, like cars?” Harry asked, polishing his specs on his shirttail.

“You mean just idle float mode? Yes, why?”

Harry smiled. “Then all we need is your broomstick and a good heavy rope,” Harry replied, “Because I’m going to pull you all the way with the Nimbus!”

“Wicked!” Ron exclaimed.

Darby, however, after being taught how to call up a broomstick and sit it and hover, looked like he was about to throw up. “Can’t we just charter a bus?” he asked helplessly, his feet dangling about a meter off of the grass.

It was about 11:55 AM when they left the note and headed to the barn. Fred and George had taken the task of distracting Mrs. Weasley and her young daughter Ginny so that the boys could slip off unnoticed. Darby had asked why they were changing clothes again, until Ron informed him that they’d be cruising at several thousand feet in the air and that although it was hot and summer on the ground, it would be cold that high up. Darby nodded and turned a pale shade of green.

Harry secured a heavy length of rope about three feet long just in front of the brushes of his Nimbus and used his Wand to help secure the knots. Darby made a comment about the Boy Scouts finding out about it, and they all laughed. Then, dressed in winter clothes with caps and gloves and with goggles on and sweating, they mounted up. Fred showed up just in time to toss Harry’s Father’s Invisibility Cloak over them, tying it down after he’d enlarged it with a Spell. Then he ran back to the house.

Harry kicked off first, followed by Ron with Darby hanging onto his waist for dear life. The smaller boy buried his head in Ron’s shoulder and clamped his eyes shut. Ron kicked off, idled his old Cleansweep, and Harry began a slow ascent.

It worked well, the Nimbus 2000 hardly noticing that it was carrying a lot of extra weight. They had just cleared the barn when Hedwig swooped over and up under the Cloak to land on Harry’s shoulder. “Freeloading?” he asked, and Hedwig hooted happily.

“Ready Ron?”

Ron nodded and turned around.

“Ready Darby?”

“Hell no!”

“Too bad. Hit it, Harry!” Ron yelled gleefully, pulling his goggles down. Darby gripped Ron tighter, and Ron noticed his hands right at his crotch. He grinned.

Harry slowly throttled the Nimbus up to speed. He leveled out to cruise once they had cleared a good thick layer of clouds, hoping that no one had seen them from under the Invisibility Cloak. He glanced back at Ron, who seemed to be having the time of his life. Darby was several shades greener. “Ron, I’ve never opened her up before, really. You ready?”

“’Ow fast ya think she can do, ‘Arry?” Ron called back.

“Hold onto yer arse, we’re about to find out!” Harry shouted, gripping the broomstick and thinking ‘more speed.’ Hedwig dug her talons into Harry’s jacket, and then burrowed in next to his skin, hooting happily.

As if in response to his thought, Harry’s Nimbus 2000 accelerated. Faster and faster it went, and the Gryffindor Seeker looked down to see the patchwork quilt that was England streaking by under them in a blur of browns and greens. He then heard an agonized wretch, and turned around just enough to see Darby looking backwards. He was spewing soulfully, showering the landscape with his lunch.

“This is fucking amazing!” Ron cried, having the time of his life.

Harry’s mood was turning dark, however, when he saw the Channel. It had only been an hour or so, but he couldn’t keep his mind off of Seamus. The clouds passed by him, and the blue of the sky suddenly reminded him of Seamus’ soccer shorts. Harry thought about the feel of his smooth skin, the shape of his body, the feel of his touch and what Seamus did to him when he touched him. He thought about his red lips, pressed against his own, and promptly became erect. His mind filled with a vision of Seamus, maybe 75 pounds soaking wet, naked in the shower, his boyhood taken from him, and his erection throbbed. Considering his position on the broomstick, it wasn’t comfortable. He wondered where Seamus was, how he was, and if he’d been harmed yet. I promise you, Voldemort, he swore to himself, If there’s so much as one bruise on his perfect little body, I’ll hunt you down until the end of Time if I have to and pay you back!

Then, as if the broomstick could sense his rage and anxiety, the Nimbus 2000 put on a burst of speed that snapped Harry’s head back and jerked the towrope taunt. It accelerated still faster, and the Channel flashed by. It was impossible to make out the shapes on the ground, and Harry looked up to see a Boeing jet from America moving along as if it were almost hovering. They shot by the jet, and Ron screamed in glee. Faster, Harry thought, and the Nimbus sped up still more.

It was unbelievable. No broomstick could go so fast, Ron knew! There was nothing that Ron didn’t know about Quidditch and flying, and he was elated. He was sure that they’d broken all of the speed records, but there was no way to prove it. Darby had finally relaxed his grip a bit, and was actually looking around. Ron glanced back, and saw the hint of a smile. “We’ll have you playing Quidditch in no time!” he called, but his voice was carried away in their airstreams.

The land below them, Harry thought, was becoming even greener and laced with more and more lakes and rivers. It was such a blur, however, that he couldn’t be sure. The clouds were thinning out as well, and although it was sunny, their speed chilled them all to the bone. Harry’s hands were getting numb, and Hedwig was looking rather disheveled as she popped her head out of Harry’s jacket again for a look about. She hooted at him, but Harry couldn’t hear her. His mind was locked into one thought: Waterville. Find Seamus. And then, FASTER!

In an impossible burst of power, the Nimbus 2000 obeyed. In about ten minutes, however, Harry began to feel a vibration between his legs.

“Damn!” He swore aloud, and Hedwig gently bit his shoulder. “I know, girl,” Harry sighed, throttling the Nimbus back to only a ludicrous speed. “I’ve pushed it too hard. We’ll have to put in for maintenance once we’ve found the trail.”

Darby, however, was beating on Ron’s shoulder and pointing down. As they’d decelerated, he’d noticed a river that he recognized from his geography class. Ron screamed at Harry, who couldn’t hear him. Pulling out his Wand, Ron muttered “Attentio” and aimed at Harry, who turned around to look at him. Ron gestured down, and Harry nodded and began to descend.

When they landed, Harry checked his watch. It had been just over an hour in clearing the width of the entire Isles.

“That,” Ron panted, looking around for Muggles and then pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, “That was absolutely bloody fucking wicked!”

Darby, however, sprawled out on the grass and fainted.

“You didn’t cum in your shorts up there, did you?” Harry asked, forcing a smile.

Ron laughed, and tried to rouse Darby. When he finally succeeded, as Harry was checking over his damaged broomstick, Darby informed them that they were only a few minutes walk over a small rise to the road to Waterville. “We kin catch a ride on a wagon an’ be there in just a shake,” he informed them, his voice weak and his legs shaky. “I recognized the bend in the river, old man Kearny lives nearby. Please tell me we’re not flyin’ back!”

“No,” Harry said sadly, “Not until we can finish here. Then we head to Diagon Alley. The Nimbus is in no shape to fly anywhere else today.”

“Whas ‘appened?” Ron exclaimed, and then he saw the Nimbus 2000. His jaw dropped, and his face turned white.

Harry had detached the towrope and was holding the smoking broomstick in his shaking, gloved hands. The shine on the stick itself had gone dull, and some of the bristles were missing. The gold lettering on the front was dulled as well, and the “N” was chipping off. There was a small crack in the frontal curve as well.

“I hope you brought some floo*-powder,” Harry said to Ron.

*Floo – noun, Wizard world term – fireplace/chimney.
*Floo – verb, to use a chimney for magical transport & travel from Wizard house to house, or as a telephone would be used in the Muggle world. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, JK Rowling, Book 2 in the series.