Harry Potter and the Knife of Klingsor, Part 3

When Harry entered the Gryffindor Common Room, there were a few whistles and comments made. He flushed when he realized that he’d walked out of Seamus’ room in only his printed boxers, and turned to see that Professor McGonagall was no longer with him. He did, however, hear a ‘meow’ and grinned as the striped cat jumped up onto a sofa and blurred into the shape of their House Sponsor.

“Run along to your own room and put on some clothes, Harry,” she advised, her icy stare silencing the rest of the students. “For your information, children, Harry is still in a rather poor state from his encounter with the Dark Lord You-Know-Who and he’s been asleep under my care all morning,” she explained. “But doesn’t he have nice legs, though?”

Everyone stared, afraid to comment. Everyone but Ron Weasley.

“THAT is still just bloody brilliant, Ma’am,” Ron told her.

“And I am still glad that you approve of it, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps by the end of next year, you’ll be able to finally turn that matchstick into a needle properly,” she countered, but her smile gave away her real feelings. In all her years of teaching at Hogwart’s, being a House Sponsor was the part that she found most rewarding. She was very pleased with this particular Year’s Class, and was sad to see the summer break come. She paused for a moment, fixing the faces of all of the students who were present in her mind.

Ron thought for a moment, then asked, “Why’d you come out that door, anyway, Professor? Didn’t you know there might be some people in here?”

Then Professor McGonagall, normally so serious and stodgy, laughed. Everyone just continued to stare, unsure what to make of it and beginning to make plans for Ron Weasley’s funeral. None of them would have dared ask her something like that. It was so out of character to see her perfect teeth flashing in a great smile and to hear her laughing aloud with a hand at her bodice.

“I love a good laugh now and then, children,” she explained, “and the look on Harry’s face was just priceless, wasn’t it?”

Seamus, who had been sitting next to Ron, didn’t laugh, however. He looked down at his bare feet, which didn’t touch the floor from the squashy sofa cushions he was seated upon, and sighed. Ron glanced over and put his arm around him, but no one else seemed to see him sitting there in his maroon shorts and his gold T-shirt that said, “Screw the Rules, Just Fly the Broom!” He leaned his head over into Ron’s shoulder, sighed, and stared at the door to the room that Harry and Ron shared. Ron wondered if he wasn’t trying to figure out how to see THROUGH the door, which reminded him of something. Hadn’t he started off in a room with Harry, himself, and Neville? Or something like that? Or had he had his own room for the whole year? He couldn’t say for certain, but thinking about it made his head hurt so he stopped.

“Hey, at least I can see through the Spell now,” Ron comforted him, whispering in his ear, as the other Gryffindors bid their Sponsor goodbye and set out on some last-minute errands before leaving the School for the three month summer vacation.

“I know,” Seamus replied in a small voice, swinging his feet and leaning on Ron, “I wuz jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout summer and goin’ home. Won’ be the same w’out me da’ there, an’ all me few friends’ll be scattered out all o’er the bloomin’ world. I mean, there’s some Muggle boys down the street I know, but they’re not gon’ta be much fun NOW, are they? I mean, rollerblades and bikes compared t’ broomsticks? Nintendo compared to Magic?”

“But your family won’t overlook you, Seamus,” Professor McGonagall told him, “Not like the Spell on you here is designed to do. Everyone at home, and the Muggles you might know will still be able to see you as always. Besides, you can’t perform Magic in front of Muggles, you know. You’ll get a warning if you do, then you’ll be expelled.”

“Yer right, I know, Ma’am, but e’en if no’un cud hardly e’er see me here, sometimes they did. I think I’ll e’en miss Malfoy callin’ me ‘Torchboy’ when he sees me. I kinda wish we cud go tuh school all year long.”

“Are ya daft?!” Ron exclaimed loudly, “All bloody year? Tha’s nuts!” The thought of Potions Class every week, three times a week, all year long with Professor Snape sent chills down his spine.

“What’s nuts?” Harry asked, coming back into the Common Room from his own bedroom. He was dressed in a black T-shirt with a green snake on the front that said, “Gryffindor bites!” and a pair of shorts like Seamus’. He was barefoot still, and carrying his socks and a pair of ratty looking sneakers. He shook his head in disgust when they all stared at him.

“Changing Houses, Harry?” McGonagall asked, smiling at him. “Does the old Sorting Hat know something that I don’t? Bit of Slytherin in you after all?”

Ron snickered, and Seamus stared.

“It was Malfoy, I bet!” Harry explained, tugging at the front of his shirt in disgust. The snake hissed at him and wriggled. “Had to be! All of my non-formal shirts are like this. I’m just glad he didn’t get to my pants, too. Knowing him, he’d have turned them all into miniskirts or somesuch.”

“Then ye cou’da just walked into the Office wit’out yer pants and told on him,” Seamus suggested, smiling at Harry.

Harry sighed and took a seat on the sofa next to him. The Irish lad smiled at him, and Harry hugged him. It was going to be a long, dull summer without his friends, and he wanted to make his last day at Hogwart’s last as long as it could. He was going to miss them all: Ron, Hermione, Neville, the Weasley twins, Wood his Quidditch Captain, Lee Jordan calling out their games, and now Seamus, terribly. But as he thought about it, he was going to miss Seamus the most. He wondered how Ron would take that if he knew, but he thought – given the way that Ron seemed to look at them – that he already did know and understood.

“Well, as for the not wearing pants thing out in the School, I’d have to say NO. Some of the Teachers here might take points from our House if you did that, Harry. I can, however, fix the shirts,” Professor McGonagall replied. Then she paused to pull out her Wand. It was nine inches long, made of springy willow. An excellent Wand for transfigurations. “Fabricus Decolorum, Gryffindor!” she said, and Harry’s shirt changed into a shimmering nylon fabric of gold color. It had maroon cuffs with a lion sitting atop a Broomstick, and the maroon and gold reversed, depending on the viewer’s angle of sight. The lion was choking a green serpent, and they all laughed until they were gasping for breath.

“Mention this to anyone, and I’ll deny it!” Professor McGonagall told them, and they all laughed again.

“You could sell those,” Ron commented, “Prob’ly make a fortune too!”

“Wizarding isn’t about money, as some families seem to think,” Professor McGonagall told him, then cocked her head just a bit. Again, she smiled. Seamus glanced over at her, still running his fingers over the slick fabric of Harry’s enchanted T-shirt. He smiled back, and Minerva McGonagall nearly lost her composure.

Not in front of the children, she admonished herself in silence, And especially not in front of Seamus Finnegan.

And then she did something that she’d never done before. She arose slowly, smoother her dress, and walked over to kneel down in front of the three Gryffindors seated on the squashy old couch. “Oh, boys!” She sighed, taking them all in a warm embrace as if they were her grandchildren. “I AM going to miss you three this summer. DO try and stay out of trouble, will you? Perhaps my nerves can recover a bit if you do.”

Harry, Ron and Seamus nodded in puzzlement, all of them a bit taken by their Sponsor’s sudden show of affection. Then she stood up, closed her eyes, and blurred back into the shape of the striped cat. She disappeared through the portal that emerged behind the picture of the fat lady, and a few moments later, the boys heard a terrible howl and spat followed by hissing and clawing.

“Catfight!” Ron cried.

Seamus shook his head, and then leaned it back on Harry’s shoulder. “Mrs. Norris ain’t got’a bloody chance,” he laughed. “Stupid cat,” he yawned, rubbing at his eyes.

“Ol’ Filch is gonna hear about this one,” Ron chortled. Then he looked over at Harry and Seamus. Harry’s eyes met his best friend’s, and for a moment, he was afraid of what Ron might be thinking. He wasn’t sure if Ron had or hadn’t seen what had taken place in Seamus’ room, and his heart began to pound.

Harry started to say something, but Ron raised his finger to his lips and shushed him. He gestured, and Harry glanced down to see that Seamus had fallen asleep with his sandy head on his shoulder. The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned in a smile, and his breathing was slow and even.

Emotions that Harry Potter had never experienced before welled up within him. It wasn’t like what he’d felt when Seamus had touched him, somehow suspending Time itself around them so that Ron never saw what had happened when the Irish lad had touched him. It was something totally different, but Harry found that while it made his throat tighten and his eyes sting a bit, it wasn’t unpleasant. He held Seamus a bit tighter and sighed, suddenly jealous of Ron for having a younger sibling and never telling him what a joy it could be.

“Trust me,” Ron whispered, reaching for his Wand, “I know what you’re thinkin’, I do, and havin’ a little sister or brother ain’t all it’s cracked up to be! Sometimes I wish I was only-child.”

“He isn’t THAT little,” Harry whispered back, afraid of waking him. “Now what do I do?”

“Well, you can either sit there all afternoon holding him, or we can put him to bed,” Ron advised, waving his Wand. “And you’re right, he’s not THAT little. Wingardium Levi-OH-sah,” he whispered, making sure that he pronounced it properly as Hermione had told him.

He had, and Seamus slowly floated up off of Harry’s lap. Ron gave him a gentle nudge, aiming his Wand steadily, and he and Harry floated the Irish lad to his own bed and tucked him in. Seamus moaned in his sleep, a small noise, and Harry bent down to listen. “Don’ ferget,” he whimpered, and tears welled up in Harry’s eyes. Without thinking, he softly kissed Seamus’ smooth cheek and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Although it was summer, the stones of the castle still gave off a chill so early in the season. Seamus, however, didn’t stir.

Very quietly, the boys crept from the room and out of the Common Room and through the portal, stopping only long enough for Harry to pull on his shoes and socks. Then he realized what he’d done, right in front of Ron too! Oh, hell he thought, I can’t believe I just did that!

About then, however, Harry found Ron’s arm about his shoulders pulling him closer so that Ron could tussle his mop of black hair. He then felt a slap on his back. “Oh, that was just bloody cute, Harry!” He laughed aloud, “You can have Ginny for the summer, then! Looks like you’ve got the little brother/sister touch to me!”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, just happy that Ron hadn’t read anything else into it. He pondered his mixed emotions for a moment as they made their way to the kitchen in search of snack to tide them over until the Great Farewell Feast. He wasn’t sure which was more alarming – the intense pleasure he’d felt at Seamus’ touch that had prompted his first orgasm, or the feeling he felt deep inside when he’d held him sleeping on his lap and chastely kissed his cheek. Harry was certainly confused, but he was also starving. His stomach rumbled.

Ron laughed.

“At least YOU had lunch,” Harry said sullenly. “I feel like I’ve slept for the last week. I think that nap was the last thing I needed.”

“Having Vol … well … HIM trying to kill you AGAIN would sort of take something out of you, don’t’cha think?” Ron asked.

“It did,” Harry replied, not bothering to tell Ron that he was actually on the run from Madam Pomfrey, having slipped out of the Infirmary after begging off a shower. He was supposed to have come right back afterwards, but … Harry had all of the Infirmary that he wanted and he didn’t feel THAT bad. Besides, what if Madam Pomfrey insisted on changing the bandages on his hand, now that Seamus had healed it?

“Don’ tell me,” Ron groaned, “You’re an escapee?”

He nodded back, but Harry wasn’t really listening to him lecture as they managed to bum some sandwiches from a rather portly lady in the kitchen whose name Harry didn’t catch. As he attacked the sandwich, Harry kept thinking about his recent encounter with the Dark Lord. Once again, he’d lived. He was beginning to grow sullen, and even more confused when he stopped to think about his scar. Those thoughts lead him to think about Seamus’ birthmark, which lead him to think about SEAMUS in general. Those thoughts, in turn, sent his mind completely out the window as he pondered the idea of his own scar versus the Irish lad’s birthmark. “I just don’t get it, really!” He muttered in exasperation, as he and Ron rounded a corner and stepped out onto the lawn. Harry blinked. He’d just been automatically following Ron and thinking.

“Haven’t you been listening to me at all, Harry?” Ron asked, irritated.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized, “No, I wasn’t. I guess I was wool-gathering. I had a really bad dream during my nap.”

“Tell me about it, then, before she finds you and skins you alive,” Ron offered, pointing to a large willow tree. The boys climbed up into a very low and crooked limb, and the willow seemed to actually be reaching down to help them up. “Good thing the Whompin’ Willow likes us,” he stated. “I love this tree. Great fer climbin’, IF’n it likes ya.” Ron ran his fingers over the rough bark, and the hanging fine leaves seemed to reach in to hide them.

Ron then listened, wide-eyed and with his hands over his crotch, as Harry told him about his nightmare and how Hagrid had emasculated him in the Great Hall at the Feast.

“I love the part about Malfoy,” Ron observed, then he thought for a bit. “You think the Knife’s real, though? I mean, you think they REALLY used a Magic Knife on Seamus?”

Harry nodded grimly. “They did, and it’s here somewhere in the Castle. Professor McGonagall told me it was.”

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. “But it’s just a dream,” he advised. “YOU don’t have that Mobius Strip mark, you got your own mark.”

Harry nodded, then almost fell out of the tree when he heard a familiar voice and looked around to see Hagrid approaching.

“ ‘ello, boys!” A thunderous voice boomed across the grass, “Lovely day, id’n’t it?”

“Hello, Hagrid,” both of them replied.

It took only a few strides of Hagrid’s enormous frame to cross the lawn and sweep both Gryffindors up into his massive arms. He spun them around as if they were little more than rag dolls, and Harry laughed in spite of his pensive mood. Then Hagrid attempted to break all of their ribs in one crushing hug as he set them down again. Both boys grunted.

“Hagrid,” Ron complained, rubbing at his side, “I might want those ribs later on, ya know!”

“Sorry, boys,” Hagrid replied, “But c’mon now, le’ss go ‘av ourselves some tea and maybe a snack before the Feast! Aww, ‘ow I luvvv these end’a Year Feasts, I do! Maybe give us a chance to say goodbye proper an’ all?”

Of course, Harry’s mood lifted at the invitation. A visit to Hagrid’s cabin was NOT something to be passed up in any weather! As they entered the small house, Hagrid put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He paused, and then rubbed at the shimmering fabric of his shirt. It shifted and changed color in the light and Hagrid saw the lion on the front beginning to shake the snake and growl as a Golden Snitch flew past the lion’s paw and disappeared around the back of Harry’s shoulder.

“Oh, amazin’ shirt, ‘arry! You do that by yerself? First Year even tho’ ya are?”

“Professor McGonagall did it,” Ron supplied helpfully, flopping in a huge chair that nearly swallowed him up. Fang the Boarhound came over to drool in his lap, wagging his tail happily. Hagrid laughed.

“Did I tell yer’s ‘e pissed on ol’ Malfoy the other day? Just up and hiked his leg on the little brat’s shin and soaked ‘im down! I was so proud o’ Fang!”

Both boys laughed again, and Hagrid served them treacle fudge and tea. They politely declined his offer of a stoat sandwich – again. Hagrid was, however, always good for a handout in hard times.

“It was Malfoy, of course,” Harry explained, and he and Ron began to take turns interrupting one another to tell Hagrid all about their day and how Professor McGonagall had shown them the wardrobe spell.

“Messin’ with yer clothes, that brainless little pureblood git,” Hagrid scowled, mumbling around a mouthful of stoat sandwich. “Why I o’tta just … ‘UUURRPPPP!” He belched loudly, thumping his chest. “Par’n me, damm! Too much ‘o something in the mustard sauce again. Where was I?”

“You were just saying that you o’tta … do something dreadful to Malfoy, right!?” Ron suggested, as Harry nodded fervently. His mood seemed to have lightened, although he was still thinking about Seamus. It made him wonder if anyone else was.

“Messin’ with a man’s clothes is no laughin’ matter,” Hagrid announced suddenly, “What if’n he’d a’made off with yar pants, ‘arry?!”

Harry flushed, and Ron laughed again. If they only knew, he fretted to himself. The look, however, must have crossed his face because Hagrid gave him a puzzled look.

“Wha’s wrong, ‘arry?” he inquired, laying a hand – which covered Harry’s halfway up to his elbows – on his and leaning closer. “Tell ‘ol ‘agrid all ‘bout it, now. Out wit’ it.”

Harry sighed, and Ron rolled his eyes. “Not Seamus again?” he asked.

Harry looked wounded. He nodded slowly.

“Who?” Hagrid asked.

“HAGRID!” Harry exclaimed, “Not you too!”

“He’s messin’ with you, Harry,” Ron grinned, nabbing another piece of fudge as Hagrid grinned at him.

“Sorry,” the huge man offered, standing up in one smooth motion and sweeping Harry up in his arms again. “C’mon and sit on the sofa by the windur wit’ me a’for ya has to be goin’. Boys like you won’ be havin’ much time fer me. And, yes, I know about Seamus. Spell ain’t so strong that ol’ Rubeus Hagrid can’t see through it. ‘Sides, someone’s gotta help ‘im wit’ his laundry since he sets it on fire e’ry time he tries to dry it out wit’ Magic!”

“You know?” Harry asked, his emerald eyes wide.

Hagrid nodded. “Poor little fella. I wet the bed when I was nine, meself,” Hagrid whispered, taking a boy on each knee and sighing. “Tis gon’ ta be a long summer wi’out ya’s here to keep me entertained, I’ll wager.”

“You wouldn’t know about … I mean …,” Harry faltered, wondering how to phrase it in case Hagrid didn’t already know about Seamus lack of boyhood. “I mean, Seamus has … well … he’s got a birthmark and …”

But Harry stopped as Hagrid’s great face paled. Ron nodded. “He knows,” the redhead observed.

“Did ‘e tell ya his’self?” Hagrid asked in a low voice, “’Cause I ain’t about to spill it, no sir! Worst mark on a boy Wizard there is, worse’n your scar, Harry … The mark of Wild Power … I shouldn’ta told ya that,” Hagrid mused, and the boys wondered if he let these things slip on purpose.

Harry nodded, sighing hard and falling back on Hagrid’s chest with a thud. Ron squirmed a bit as Fang flopped his head into his lap and panted while Ron scratched his ears. “Seamus took a shower with us this morning,” Harry offered.

Hagrid whistled. “Brave boy,” he replied. “Thinkin’ that may be why ‘e wets the bed, ya know, I mean, not havin’ a penis and all anymore.” The huge man blushed a bit.

“But that’s what I don’t understand, Hagrid,” Harry explained. “WHY does he have that mark, what’s it mean, really, and how does being a eunuch make him a better Wizard? I want to know WHY cutting his … his … oh hell! Why cutting it ALL off makes him so special! And what’s this about the Knife of Klingsor?”

“Oh, the Knife. It’s in me kitchen drawer o’er there and … I shouldn’ta told ya that!”

“McGonagall told you it was still here, though, didn’t she Harry?” Ron asked.

Harry eyed Hagrid suspiciously and nodded slowly. “She just didn’t say WHERE.”

“An’ just why would she be tellin’ ya that?” Hagrid asked in wonder. “Ain’t no’un s’pozed to know about that Knife but … well, ne’er mind WHO! You are NOT s’pozed to know ANYTHIN’ ‘bout this whole mess! Blimey, ‘arry, ‘ow do ya do it?! First the Sorcerer’s Stone, now the Knife? Is nothin’ at Hogwart’s safe from you?”

“He had a nightmare,” Ron supplied helpfully.

Hagrid’s mention of the Knife, however, had gotten Harry somewhat unwound and he was shaking. Once again, he recounted the vivid details of his dream and watched as Hagrid’s eyes went wide, narrowed, and went wide again. When Harry was finished, Hagrid pulled both boys tighter, making their ribs creak, and raised Harry’s chin to look him in the eye. “I’d NEVER do a thing to hurt you, ‘arry,” he said finally, “And the same goes for you, Ron. I’d sooner jump off the astronomy tower than do that! Monstrous it is, I tell ya’s, monstrous! To ‘av to do that to a little boy like Seamus because ‘e got unlucky enough t’be born wit’ the damn mark,” Hagrid sniffed. “Ne’er being able to … OH no! I ain’t tellin’ ya’s ‘bout THAT too!”

Harry sighed and Ron flushed a bit. “We already KNOW all about the dragons and the faeries, Hagrid,” Harry said, mortified to think that Hagrid thought them so naïve. “I mean, we KNOW that babies don’t just pop up out of a cabbage patch!”

“Well, they do if you know how to talk to the right kind of cabbages,” Hagrid countered, then he smiled. “Jokin’! Just jokin’!” Then he moved his great hands up to place one on the cheek of each boy and lean them down on his chest. Ron looked as if he wanted to get up and be done with it, but to Harry - starved for affection as he was – it felt wonderful.

I could die right here and right now in his arms and I’d be the happiest Ghost here, he thought, sighing in contentment. Ron, however, didn’t seem to feel that way.

“Hagrid,” he complained, “Yer not getting’ all gushy on us are ya? I mean, it’s only for the summer, three months, and we’ll be back!”

“With YOUR talent for divin’ into messes like ya’s do, I wouldn’t bet gold on it,” Hagrid stated, petting Harry’s wild dark hair as if he were a puppy. “THIS one’s already took on HIM ya know, TWICE! And you, Ron! Right there alongside him for the ride this time! First Year at Hogwart’s, even! You two make me a nervous wreck! And Hermione, too! Where is she, anyways?”

“Library,” both of them answered, grinning.

“Bet not half the wreck Seamus’d make of ya if he’s all they say he is,” Harry then replied, glancing at Ron. “Don’t you have more packing to do?” Harry suggested, winking at him.

“Yea, it’s a bloody mess,” Ron stated, in fact, not lying at all. His things WERE a mess, indeed. “Hagrid, I promise not to get into any trouble this summer, really. I’ll come back in September and bring Harry with me. OK?”

“Ah, go pack up, Ronnie,” Hagrid told him. “Seems to be an infinite supply of Weasleys anyway, ya know! Jokin’ again! Give me best to yer Mum and tell her not to spare the owls!” The huge man bellowed, shaking the red-haired boy and slapping his butt as he jumped down.

Fang took his place. He licked Harry’s glasses.

“I will!” Ron promised, and scooted out the door, obviously relieved at being spared from another Hagrid-hug. I owe you one, Harry, he thought.

When Ron was gone, Harry looked up at the blurry form of Hagrid. He said nothing, though. He just stared over the rims of his fogged up round spectacles and enjoyed the feeling of being held. He wondered if Seamus was still asleep, or if he was up and getting ready to go home. Harry also wondered what his friend would find once he got home. Would he find his father gone, or would he arrive to become the object of shame and Muggle prejudice? How would his status as a eunuch this past year affect his family life? Not having had much of a family life, not one worth mentioning anyway, Harry found that he couldn’t relate. He did not, however, wish the way that he was treated by the Durselys upon anyone.

And especially not upon Seamus.

“I won’t see him for the whole summer,” Harry whispered, thinking aloud.

“Who, Ron? He’s not that far off from Privet Drive. Broomstick it over to ‘is place after dark. Lovely house they call the Burrow, ya know.”

Harry flushed at having said it aloud. “No, not Ron. Seamus.”

“Ahhh,” Hagrid realized, taking Harry’s chin in his hand wiping at his specs. He then gazed into those emerald eyes, which didn’t seem to sparkle as they usually did. “All the way south in Ireland, that’s a good long flight. Now I get it. You kinda like him, don’t’cha, ‘arry?”

Harry almost fell out of Hagrid’s lap. His jaw dropped, and instead of answering, he just spluttered and stammered. His face turned a shade of beet red, but then Hagrid’s hand was there, patting his flaming cheek and Harry could see a broad grin through his dense whiskers. Then Hagrid laughed. It was a rich, throaty, and heartfelt laugh that filled the small house and very nearly shook the rafters. He laughed for quite a while, in fact, while Harry looked around for a hole to crawl into and hide.

“I … I think I … I should just go!” Harry announced, trying to navigate his way out of Hagrid’s enormous lap. The big man pulled him back, however, and Harry gasped.

“Why?” Hagrid asked. “Why go when I know ya want to ask me about Seamus and that Knife?”

“H-how do you know that?” Harry wondered.

Hagrid grinned at him, hugging him again. Harry found that despite the pain in his ribcage, he liked it. “Because I KNOW you,” the big man replied. “Seamus come and showed ‘is secret to ya’s this mornin’ in the showers, which, if I am not mistaken, means ya snuck outta the Infirmary, dint’cha?”

Harry nodded.

“Madam Pomfrey’s a’gonna hunt ya down and shove a hose up yer arse big enough to water Fluffy wit’,” Hagrid predicted, shaking his bushy head. “NEVER cross the school Nurse, ‘arry. But back to yer question ‘bout Seamus.”

Harry blushed again and looked away.

“Oh, stop that!” Hagrid told him, “Ya think yer the first boy ‘eer to find out ‘e likes other boys? Hell’s Bells, ‘arry, I once walked into the tool shed and caught Fred and George Weasley a’goin’ at it like wild rabbits, I did!” Hagrid laughed again. “Don’t you EVEN think ‘bout tellin’, neither! Mrs. Weasley ‘ud skin us all!”

“I … I d-d-on’t kn-know, Hagrid,” Harry faltered, “I mean, I woke up and I thought I heard him crying, but I was all the way over in the Infirmary, and I even slept late! I thought I’d be wiped out from Voldemort and Quirrell trying to kill me, you know, but I just went back to my room and I could HEAR him crying, Hagrid! I could hear him crying all the way over there and he just looked like … like …”

“Like ‘e dint ‘av a friend in the whole world and that he was a’gonna toss hisself out the Tower window?”

Harry nodded. “Then when I saw him,” he explained, telling Hagrid the whole story about their argument, the insults, the flower, and finally – the showers. “When I saw him naked, Hagrid, with all of his … you know … his STUFF just GONE … I … I just got … I got …”

“All hot ‘n bothered?”

Harry nodded, shrinking back into Hagrid’s arm. “I got … I got a … oh, hell, Hagrid, I got a hard-on and then Seamus did something, right in front of Ron but Ron dint’ see it at all when Seamus touched me … down there … and I just …”

“Exploded inside and felt like ya was a’gon’ta die o’ sheer pleasure?” Hagrid finished for him.

“What was it!?” Harry cried, thoroughly confused.

“THAT, ‘arry, was yer first orgasm, and a dry one too, I’ll wager.”

“How’d he do that, Hagrid?” Harry asked in wonder, “It was like Time stopped around us for a bit or something.”

Hagrid sighed, and then looked about. He murmured something, and the windows all closed and the door locked. Harry felt like he could feel a veil descending upon the cabin. “What I say stays inside this cabin, boy,” Hagrid told him, all traces of his normal accent gone. “I should NOT be telling you this, but I think that since you got it so bad for Seamus already, you need to know. Where to begin though?

“Seamus Finnegan was born eleven years ago, on June 21 at 1 o’clock in the morning. Some call it the real Witching Hour, Thirteen o’clock. His mum’s a Witch, his dad’s a Muggle, which makes him what most Wizards are today – some calls ‘em Mudbloods, like that worthless git Malfoy. I swear, Harry, I’ve never met a boy I didn’t love until I met HIM. Changin’ your shirts and all. I’d beat him if I could, I swear! I think his dad does enough of that, though, and in a way I feel bad for him. But back to Seamus.”

Harry nodded, listening with rapt attention.

“Seamus’ birthday is also the Summer Solstice, Harry, the longest day of the year. Some dread to see it, but it’s a really big Day in the Wizard world. Bein’ raised by Muggles, you wouldn’t know, but … some think it’s a signal that the Dark is growing more powerful, since the days fall to getting’ shorter after the Solstice. And he was born with the mark of a Eunuch Wizard, too. I can only imagine what that must have done to his father, Seamus bein’ his first and, so far, only son.

“But the mark meant that on his tenth birthday, as the Night was finally fallin’ on the longest day of the year, Seamus Finnegan was castrated with The Knife of Klingsor. From what you told me in your dream, Harry, you’ve already seen it, up close and personal.”

Harry nodded and started to shiver again, but Hagrid pulled him close again and softly kissed his cheek. Harry stared up at him as if a snake had just bitten him. “Sorry,” he said quietly, “But every time I see you, Harry, I think about that night that I found you layin’ in your crib, forehead busted open and bleedin’ and wailin’ at the top of your little lungs! Most horrible thing I’ve ever seen in my life, your Mum laying there dead at your side and you just hangin’ on the crib rail cryin’, ‘M-muh-mah!’ over and over. And your Father … He must have put up one HELL of a fight against Voldemort, Harry,” Hagrid choked, wiping at his eyes. “I could see where HE fled, left a smokin’ trail, he did.”

“Wh-what did you do then?” Harry asked, his eyes spilling over with tears as Hagrid held him.

“I did the only thing I could do. I picked you up, made sure HE was gone, and changed your diaper. I cleaned up your little noggin’ best I could. Then I tucked you inside my coat, jumped on the motorcycle I’d borrowed from young Sirius Black, and took you for a ride. A long ride. You fell asleep somewhere over London, I think it was. Or was it Bristow? Then I had to hand you over to those … those … Muggles!” Hagrid growled. “If I had known, Harry, I swear, if it weren’t for Albus Dumbledore tellin’ me not to turn the lot of ‘em into pigs, I’d’a don’er so fast!”

But Harry had collapsed into Hagrid’s shoulder, sobbing. Off and on, ever since he could remember, he had had dreams about flying around in the dark with someone on a loud motorcycle. He’d never mentioned it to anyone, but now he understood as Hagrid wiped his face and rocked him. Dreams, he’d read, of flying, were the subconscious Mind’s way of dealing the want of escape. And Harry had wanted nothing more than to escape the Dursleys for as long as he could recall. And so it was that he cried on Hagrid’s shoulders until the large man’s sleeve was soaked with his tears. Hagrid kissed him again, rubbed his back while he cried, and patiently waited for the boy to get it all out. It was something that he desperately needed.

“Hardest thing I ever did, givin’ you up like that,” he choked. “But now you’re here, and showin’ off your fine talent for getting’ into trouble! I’m so damn proud ‘o ya!” Unable to restrain himself, Hagrid kissed the boy again and Harry found that despite the whiskers, which made chills run all through him, that he liked it. He finally smiled.

“But getting’ back to Seamus,” Hagrid went on, as Harry nodded, “We all knew, those of us involved, what that mark meant. I’ll never forget how he cried when we told him. It’s customary to warn the boy on the Spring Equinox, to give him time to prepare. Worst part of it is, the boy’s always ten – too young to have hit puberty and way too young to have had any kind of … well … sexual experiences, you know. That’s all part of it, though, according to the legend.”

“LEGEND?” Harry gasped. “You mean it isn’t a FACT? Seamus got castrated for the sake of a legend?”

“No, Harry,” Hagrid informed him calmly, “Let me finish. There hasn’t been a Eunuch Wizard at Hogwart’s in a good two hundred years. Nicholas Flamel remembers the last one, of course, since he was there, damn Stone of his! Little Italian fellow they say, couldn’t sing worth a damn though. But he sure could do Magic, Harry! It’s a shame you can’t get at his story in the Forbidden Section of the Library, it’s one hell of a read! Took on one of Salazar Slytherin’s descendents though, young man who went Bad and decided to come back and wreck the School, he did! And that little fellow, course he wasn’t so little after he graduated, tall he was, just kicked that Dark Wizard’s arse all over the countryside without breakin’ a sweat, so the book says!”

“Why would he want to sing, anyway?” Harry asked. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“Oh, that. Well, the Italians used to castrate little boys, Harry, so that their voices couldn’t change. They trained them to be singers for opera, and a lot of them got rich and famous from it. Sort of like Muggle rock stars today, you know, or movie actors. But for the most part, they ended up singing in Church choirs or didn’t have the talent to make it and lived out modest, sometimes miserable lives as ‘half men’, as some called them. Many of them weren’t even tested to see if they COULD sing, a lot of them being too little when they were cut to even know what music was. Some boys were even sold off for money by poor parents, hopin’ they’d get rich off of the boy’s suffering. They were trained in schools for castrati, which is what they called ‘em, among other things, much like Hogwart’s is for Wizards and Witches.

“Other cultures did it too. The Chinese, the Byzantines, Romans, lots of ‘em, for different reasons. Harem guards, servants, singers, sexual partners, politics, you name it. Lots ‘o jobs out there, or used to be, fer a man or boy with no genitals. But now, where was I?”

“Seamus and a legend,” Harry supplied, “And an Italian Eunuch Wizard who kicked arse!”

“Right!” Hagrid continued, “Well, this whole Eunuch-mark thing started with a Wizard named Klingsor. Some refer to him as ‘Clinschor’ around the twelfth or thirteenth Century or so, but no matter how you spell it, he was a very strong Wizard. Hogwart’s has been here for a thousand years or so, and this Klingsor was around at about that time when The Founders of the Four Houses here started this School. There’s a rumor, you could ask Professor Binns if you could talk about this – which you CAN’T, mind – but there were almost FIVE Houses here, Harry. They say that Klingsor was in with Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin in the Wizarding business.”

“What happened to him?” Harry interrupted, suddenly excited to hear more.

“I’m getting’ to it, boy,” Hagrid replied, smiling and tickling his slightly sore ribs. Harry laughed, and Hagrid kissed him again, this time on the lips as the boy turned his head. Both of them were a bit surprised, but neither pulled away. They simply let it last, Harry being tickled by Hagrid’s bushy beard and Hagrid feeling torn inside by the feelings that he was experiencing for the boy he’d first seen as a helpless, injured baby and fallen in love with at that first sight. No more, he thought, I won’t think about it no more! There’s nothin’ wrong with a chaste kiss made in love, but I won’t … I can’t … not to Harry! It’s just not proper!

Harry was feeling confused as well, as Hagrid kissed him. Displays of affection were so foreign to Harry, and he cherished every second of the huge man’s kiss. He knew that eventually those arms that were as big as tree trunks would have to let him go – again – as they had eleven, almost twelve years ago. But for the moment, Harry Potter was the happiest boy in the world as the man who’d come to save him from the Dursleys and inform him of his Destiny held him and loved him.

Hagrid cleared his throat as the kiss ended. “Getting’ back to Klingsor,” he coughed, and Harry nodded. “He was too interested in uh … well … sexual issues. He liked women and men both, Harry, and he made no secret of it. He was probably the most oversexed Wizard in history, and in the end, it got him. One night, he made the mistake of climbin’ into bed with the Queen of Sicily, Iblis. Her husband, King Ibert, come home to find Klingsor the Wizard in bed with his wife.”

Harry gasped, wondering how his Uncle Vernon would act if he came home to find Aunt Petunia in the sack with the milkman. He snickered.

“He did!” Hagrid confirmed, “And the King was pissed! Of course, ol’ Klingsor was kinda tired from his romp in the sack with the Queen, and he didn’t have his Wand on him. The King’s men took him into custody, and as punishment, King Ibert had him castrated so that he could never again pleasure a woman as he had Queen Iblis.”

“And the Knife they cut him with…” Harry began, but Hagrid nodded, stopping him with a finger to the boy’s lips.

“Cut his balls off, and then swept the Knife up and took his cock too! Made him smooth as a whistle, they did! Treated his wound, made sure he lived, but Klingsor got away from ‘em. Legend has it he came back a few nights later, after makin’ himself a draught of Mandrake potion laced with Echinacea picked under a full moon, to speed up healin’, ya know, he come back and took the Knife they’d used on him,” Hagrid said in a low voice, picking Harry up and carrying him on his hip as a woman might do a baby.

Harry’s green eyes were wide and sparkling as Hagrid carried him to the kitchen. He poured tea with his free hand and they had a drink.

“Then he laid a Curse on the Knife, saying that he would NOT be the last Wizard to be cut with the vile thing, and that every so often, a boy Wizard would be born to mixed parentage, Magical and Muggle, half and half, and that that boy, born on the Summer Solstice when the light began to wane, would have the mark upon him. Well, come to find out,” Hagrid went on, rooting about in a drawer as Harry listened, fascinated, “Cuttin’ his man-parts all off made it impossible for him to have sexual relations as he was used to. He was still in terrible desire for a while, bein’ a grown man and all, as he would be for a time before missin’ his balls and the desire for sex that they make a man have. But he found out one thing no one expected to happen,” Hagrid paused.

“What?! What?!” Harry almost yelled, totally caught up in the story and nearly dropping his teacup.

Hagrid looked at him slyly, one hand behind his back. “Klingsor found that, a few weeks after they cut him and he healed hisself up with Magic, that his Powers were goin’ wild on him! He was doin’ things that no Wizard ever dreamed of doin’! Some say he even moved some of the stones to build Hogwart’s with here, moved them with only a flick of his Wand and a simple levitation spell like they was pebbles! He soon became the most powerful Wizard in the land, and all due to the enforced chastity that Ibert had forced upon him when he’d castrated him! Since he couldn’t let his energies out through sex, it channeled into his Wizardly Powers instead.

“Klingsor might have become powerful, but he’d also become very hateful and bitter at being a eunuch. He liked sex, and now he couldn’t have it, ever again! All he had was his lust for Power, lust that he could SATISFY, that is. The Power he had, so great it was, came to own him – and he started to go Bad. Well, the Four Founders were so shocked and ashamed of him, for getting’ hisself in that kinda way, legend goes, that they turned on him and drove him out when he started to go Bad like V-v-vold .. well, HIM, anyways.”

“Voldemort,” Harry supplied, in a strangled whisper.

“Don’ say it!” Hagrid whispered. “Anyways, Klingsor left, but not without a fight. Godric Gryffindor set lions and beasts after him, and Rowena Ravenclaw the birds of the air. Helga Hufflepuff brought up the very earth itself against him, and even Salazar Slytherin called up the serpents to attack him. They drove him away, but Klingsor swore that he’d have revenge upon a half-breed boy Wizard whenever he fancied. He swore he’d not be alone in his humiliation, and that every so often, a boy would be born with HIS mark, the mark of the Knife that had cut him and ruined his life.

“Fearin’ for the safety of the students they’d taken in, the Founders destroyed all of Klingsor’s things after he was gone, all but for the Knife. For some reason, they just locked it up, but about six years later, they found a Ravenclaw lad laid up in the Infirmary one June morning, cut as smooth as Seamus is. That mark was on him, and the doctor swore it hadn’t been there when he’d been admitted to Hogwart’s. That’s when they decided to try and destroy it, but don’t ask me why they waited! Try as they might, they couldn’t destroy it, though, so they hid it here to keep it safe. Curse musta been just too powerful, I guess, powerful Dark Magic, Harry.” Hagrid concluded.

“And?” Harry breathed, his emerald eyes wide.

“And it’s right here, to this day,” Hagrid replied, pulling The Knife of Klingsor out of his kitchen drawer and holding it up in front of Harry’s face.

Harry screamed and dropped his teacup. His face went white, and his eyes went wide. It was the very Knife he’d seen in his nightmare! And there on the blade was the mark of the Mobius Strip, identical to the birthmark on Seamus’ left thigh. Harry found himself frightened, but was also shocked to find himself aroused at the same time. The very thought of that Knife sweeping young Seamus clean of his boyhood made Harry erect again, and he began to tremble more violently.

“P-put it b-back,” Harry choked, clinging to Hagrid and burying his face in his shoulder. Visions of Seamus, screaming in pain as he was cut, filled his mind. These visions were soon replaced by scenes from his nightmare, and Harry heard Seamus telling him ‘no’un ‘ll be a’messin’ wit’ us!’” Once again, Harry felt that exploding feeling within himself, but the sheer panic of being confronted by the Knife soon crushed it as fast as it had spawned it.

“I shouldn’t’a showed you that,” Hagrid mused.

Hagrid held him until he’d gotten hold of himself again, then put him down. Harry stared at the drawer, but didn’t move. After a long while, he spoke. “So Klingsor got himself into trouble, fooling about, and got castrated. His Powers went wild, and he became a great Wizard. He went Bad, though, and the four Founders threw him out. He swore revenge, and somehow got back in to the Knife and castrated a Ravenclaw House lad? Then he vanished again? But the boy wasn’t BORN with the mark, Hagrid, that part makes no sense. And how could he have been here in June, and not at home?”

Hagrid shook his head. “Things were different back then. Kids with nowhere else to go lived here all year, permanent, some of them. But some say that the Knife has a Will of its own, Harry, a part of the curse that Klingsor put on it. Some say it’s drawn to certain boys, and that it can even make them pick it up and emasculate themselves with it if they’ve the potential within them and it can ‘feel’ their Power yearning to be let loose.”

Harry gaped at him, suddenly beginning to sweat. His stomach rolled, and his fudge and tea threatened to come back to haunt him.

“You don’t look so good, ‘arry,” Hagrid advised him, “I think I’d better take ya back to the Infirmary where you belong.”

Harry shook his head, breathing hard. “I’m fine,” he argued. “But then what about Seamus and him blowing things up and …” Harry began to ask, but they were interrupted by a pounding at the door.

“Rubeus Hagrid!” A shrill feminine voice called out, and Harry hid behind him, quaking in fear and nauseous to boot. “I know you’ve got Harry Potter in there, Rubeus! Out with him! He’s not allowed to be out of the Infirmary, the little sneaker! Hand him over!”

“Oh dear,” Hagrid sighed as Harry clutched at his leg, “It’s Madame Pomfrey!”