Gay Harry Potter-05-2-Danny Jorrocks and the Russian Boys

by jerome1980

Repost. Favourite. A nasty Russian wizard is aiming for an alliance with Voldemort. Gay Colin Creevey at Hogwarts and Gay Danny Jorrocks in Russia have to fight him. Meanwhile there are Russian street kids who turn out to be wizards. Voldemort has his own anti-Hogwarts schemes. And Snape fails to see the pink fairy riding the dappled mouse.

DANNY JORROCKS AND THE RUSSIAN BOYS

Contents

1. Patriarch's Ponds 1

2. Alexei 5

3. Back to Hogwarts 9

4. A Day in Moscow 17

5. Alexei's New Life 20

6. When Colin Met Yuri 25

7.Danny and Brian Go Hunting 33 8.Alexei has a late breakfast 36 9.From the Arbat to Podolsk 41 10.The Juvenile Correctional Educational Resettlement Facility 46 11.Colin and the Golden Glow 57 12. Seven Boys at the Ukraina 67 13. Colin is Wet 77 14. London 82 15. Horror at Hogwarts 89 16.From London to Yorosk 94 17. Seven Boys in the Urals 100 18. Snapish Problems for Colin 109 19. Colin Has a Quiet Sunday 120 20. Naughty Boys, Naughty Mundungus 127

21. Chocolate 135

22. Back to Hogwarts 143

23. Dolls, Chocolate, Cream 151

24. From Hogwarts to Moscow158

25. The Butyrka Skirmish163

26. Fifteen Boys166

— CHAPTER ONE — Patriarch's Ponds

It was a Sunday in April—the day of the Hogwarts Express.

Fifteen hundred miles to the east of that handsome train, a good-looking couple walked through the gate into the Patriarch's Ponds leisure area. They were fortyish and long-married, but held hands as sweetly as any young couple.

Behind them walked two small boys—both dark-haired, but pretty in different ways: the elder—just fourteen, and an inch taller than his friend—had a cheeky face and scruffy hair. He was wearing clean, expensive-looking Muggle clothes which, nevertheless, looked untidy on him; the younger boy—twelve years old, with an oval, serious-looking face—was also dressed smartly, but would have looked elegant in rags.

They reached the kiosk and the man turned round.

"What would you like, Brian?"

"Kvass, please, Mr Jorrocks."

"No Kvass!" said the battleaxe in the kiosk.

"Dushes then, please," said Brian.

"No Dushes!"

"What have you got?" asked Mr Jorrocks.

"Cocacolacocacolalitepepsicolapepsicolalite. It won't be cold—the cooler's broken."

Mr Jorrocks looked helplessly at his wife who said: "Never mind, Stephen, we'll get something in the Zone."

The four walked on, around the edge of the small lake.

"That was the same as under the Commies," said Mrs Jorrocks, "except that you could at least get something palatable in the old Russia, even if it was only Apricot Juice."

"The Oligarchs haven't reached the kiosks yet," said her husband, "but they will. . . ."

Any Muggle watching the four people reaching the far end of the lake would have seen them shimmer and vanish . . . and wouldn't have given it a second thought: there were powerful Muggle-unCuriousing spells covering the whole district.

The Jorrocks family and Brian Hudson, however, saw the reason that the Patriarch was credited with a plurality of ponds: a lake much larger than the first was surrounded by tables and benches.

A few dozen people were raucously enjoying the holiday. It was too cold for swimming, though some of those wizard-punting on the lake suffered accidental dips. A few youngsters were lazily circling on broomsticks, passing a Quaffle between them.

The punts and the Quidditch were the reasons for the boys' presence: after a morning taking in Red Square and the Kremlin, and a ridiculously expensive—but ridiculously delicious—lunch, they wanted some exercise.

It was not to be, though: the four of them had scarcely sat down with their Butterkvasses ("Much inferior to Muggle stuff!" said Mrs Jorrocks), when a voice called out, over the other shouting voices: "Jorrocks! My dear fellow!"

A distinguished gentleman, dressed in an immaculate grey suit with a red bow tie, was waving from a nearby table. His hair and neat beard were dark with a little streaking of silver.

He rose and strolled over to greet the Jorrockses.

"Professor Wolland!" said Mr Jorrocks, "How good to see you—though I hardly expected to see you here!"

"I was young and foolish and I think people have forgotten my last little scrape," said the Professor in excellent English.

He shook hands with Mr Jorrocks, kissed the hand of Mrs Jorrocks and smiled at the boys: "Daniel, you've grown; and I'm pleased to meet your friend Brian,"

"Meow," said a large black cat which had followed the Professor and was, for some reason, standing on its hind legs, "What delightful and charming boys. Would you care to stroke me? Meow."

"You must make allowances for Behemoth," said the Professor, "He still retains the thrill of Animagy."

Brian stroked the cat's back and Daniel tickled him behind his ears. The cat purred.

"Aren't you afraid of getting stuck?" asked Danny.

The cat stretched himself and changed into a handsome young man of about twenty.

"Absolute myth!" he said, in a soft voice that retained something of the purr, "You're a fool if you believe that! In fact, in all my nine lives, I've never met a bigger—"

"Quiet, Behemoth!" said the Professor, "You're such a creature of extremes. One tiny blip of missing knowledge does not make someone a fool."

He looked at Danny: "He is correct, though, as it's old hags' tales that if you Transform for too long, or Transform in a North Wind you're stuck for life."

"I knew that!" said Danny, "I wanted to know if Behemoth was such a fool as to believe it."

"Touché!" laughed Behomoth, "But really I knew that you knew. I took one look at you and saw a surpassing intelligence. In fact, in all my nine lives, I've never met such a—"

"Quiet, Behemoth!" repeated the Professor, "We're here on business."

"Yes, what on earth has brought you to Moscow, Professor?" asked Mrs Jorrocks.

"To meet with one Sir Stephen Jorrocks, who my intelligence services told me was weekending in Moscow."

"Well, Professor Wolland, the Africa Connection is going brilliantly and we're both getting richer every day."

"There are some complications."

"Voldemort? We're dealing with his mess pretty well, I thought."

The Professor glanced at the boys: "I would say Pas devant les enfants except that I'm sure that Daniel and his intelligent-looking friend—"

"And handsome!" said Behemoth, "In fact, in all my nine lives, I've never met so beautiful—"

"Quiet, Behemoth! to borrow a much-used script," said Mr Jorrocks, "Professor, let's retire to the Ukraina and leave the boys to enjoy themselves."

X X X

The four adults left.

"We're not going to miss this!" said Danny, "Come on Bri!"

They ran to the tram-route and arrived at the hotel before the others. Their suite was on floor 7¾, a level invisible to Muggles, except for the occasional drunk.

Danny called Abscondo! to conceal the two of them behind a Disillusionment Charm.

They did not have long to wait; soon, Mr Jorrocks settled his wife and his guests in chairs, with decent drinks, and said: "Now Professor, you have our fullest attention."

"It's Kryuchkov," said Professor Wolland.

"That clown!" snorted Mr Jorrocks, "He went for power over Muggles and made the biggest pig's-ear there's ever been."

"Since Messire set Azazello to organise a ball," said Behemoth, who had resumed his cat form.

Professor Wolland ignored him: "Don't underestimate Kryuchkov, Stephen: he's still an incredibly powerful wizard and he still controls the Muggle gangs in Russia and these, in turn, keep the Muggle leadership stable and in power."

"The gangs I can work around," said Mr Jorrocks, "and Kryuchkov is leaving the wizard world well-alone."

"For the present, yes; but he's seeking an alliance with Voldemort, and that would seriously affect my interests in Africa and yours across the rest of the world."

"Could they work together?"

"Oh, no doubt they'd try and betray each other eventually but, while they're working in tandem, there'd be a lot of carnage and disruption."

"What can we do? No doubt Kryuchkov is as well-protected as Voldemort."

"Nothing springs to mind; but I thought I should at least warn you: apart from wanting Peace like the rest of us, your business might need adjustment."

"I'm grateful, Professor—so grateful that I'll instruct my agent to accept the asking price for the Saharan Rhubarb; and, moreover . . ."

The two wizards burbled on about international commerce.

Danny and Brian had spent the previous six weeks spurring each other on in an intense surge of learning under the wizarding tutelage of Dr de Castro and, for Brian, the Russian teacher Anton Gogol. Hence their boredom-threshold was currently low and, as they stood with their arms around each other's shoulders, the time dragged.

When, at last, the two visitors rose to go, Professor Wolland surreptitiously winked in the lads' general direction.

He'd sensed them, thought Danny; his Disillusionment Charm was strong, but might have been weakened by the inclusion of Brian.

The Professor would not have recognized them, but would have been aware that the impressions that he received were compatible with the likeliest suspects.

Another fragment for Danny's wizarding knowledge.

X X X

As soon as possible Danny and Brian made their exit and buoyantly hurried back to Patriarch's Ponds. Danny was keen for some wizard-punting, but Brian insisted on broomsticks: "I need the practice and, since you're good at everything but flying, you need to get up there too."

So they hired broomsticks and Danny got up there and bobbled while Brian circled him brilliantly, shouting instructions.

When Danny was brave enough to take one hand off the broomstick to catch a quaffle, he turned upside-down.

Everyone applauded the virtuosity of Brian and laughed at the antics of Danny and, when they came down after an hour of fun, they were definitely celebrities.

"Let's go!" said Brian: he didn't like fuss.

They returned the broomsticks and set off slowly to walk the mile-and-a-half back to the Ukraina.

"Never mind, Bri," said Danny, "You did your best."

"You'll have to work harder at Free-Flying."

"I'm a long way off—and maybe never: there's only a couple of dozen known in the world."

"Be the twenty-fifth."

"For you, I'll try."

They pulled up short: a group of children, aged from about seven to twenty, were slumped on benches or on the grass. Several men were closing in on a single boy who stood at bay. The boy made a break for it and was almost in the arms of one of the men when a whirling newspaper wrapped itself around the man's face and the boy escaped.

"Did you see that?" said Danny.

"That newspaper: there's no wind!"

"Brian, that boy's a wizard! Expecto Patronum!"

Danny sent his monkey Patronus, invisible to Muggles, after the boy and he and Brian followed at a leisurely pace.

— CHAPTER TWO — Alexei

It was late in the afternoon. The street market was closing and the opportunities for begging and filching were reduced.

As he slunk along the pavement, Alyosha munched a pirozhok that he'd managed to nick. It had his favourite filling: lamb.

He'd already had one serving of luck: a good-sized can of glue had found its way into his pocket. Things came in threes and perhaps a third bit of luck was just coming. Alyosha knew what he wanted most: to have his brother, Pyotr, with him. Pyotr would protect him and the two boys would leave the city and go somewhere where they would be safe and happy.

The winter had nearly ended and the street-children had changed their daylight roosts to spots in the open air.

It was to one of these that Alyosha made his way: In the gardens by the Ukraina Boulevard he joined a dozen other children—mostly boys—who perched on the benches, hoping not to be shooed on by the Militia.

He was greeted lacklustrely, even after he'd revealed his treasure.

Plastic bags were produced, glue tipped into them and the children started sniffing.

Soon they were, to a greater or lesser extent, out of the world.

The street-children called glue the kids' friend: one way or another, it got you away from reality. Alyosha had known many who had died with a bag in their hand—though starvation, disease and hypothermia had been frequent additional factors.

It was a good way to go, he thought: one moment you were cold, hungry, hurting, fearful; the next, gone to Heaven with all your suffering forgotten. If it hadn't been for his brother, who had kept Alyosha alive when he was free and given him a reason to live after he was imprisoned, Alyosha would have long ago given up his soul and left behind yet another heartbreaking scrap of humanity to be tidied away like the rest of the rubbish.

His cogitations faded to a uniform greyness as his mind became numbed by the fumes.

The other children were in a similar state: the sparse chatting had died away and there was only an occasional giggle to enliven the apathetic limbo.

Then, suddenly, those who were not unconscious became instantly alert.

A voice had shouted—almost sung, with a rising sixth and falling third:

"Alexei!"

Alyosha stiffened. It was Roman; sadistic Roman; his worst enemy

"It's no good running, Alexei!"

But run he did—only to find he was heading straight towards two more men.

He glanced around: three behind, two in front. He went with the odds and ran diagonally forwards so that there was only one immediate opponent—an opponent who should have caught him easily, but who feebly missed him.

Alyosha didn't look back to see what had happened; he ran and ran, pausing only to assess the traffic on the deadly Kutuzovsky Prospekt.

No-one could cross Kutuzovsky like Alyosha.

The filter-lanes were no problem, but there were three high-speed lanes in each direction.

Alyosha would take the crossing in six stages—occasionally less—judging when it was safe to use the thin white lines as refuges (not when there were lorries or buses about) and when he could reasonably expect a driver to brake so that he could turn a dummy into the real thing.

He had never been hit, but had caused several crashes.

This time he caused nothing more than a few blaring horns.

Once he was across, he knew that Roman's men would take a couple of minutes to catch up, but he still ran hard and did not stop until he reached his local bolthole: a gap under the stairs of an apartment building not posh enough to have bells on the front door.

He crouched, panting, and took stock: it looked as though Roman seriously had it in for him.

If things had turned out differently, he and Roman might have been successful partners. Unfortunately, Roman had decided to break into big-time smack-dealing and, even more unfortunately, had employed Alyosha to courier for him. Most unfortunately of all, on the occasion of the biggest deal, Alyosha had been mugged and Roman had lost all his money.

When Alyosha had explained this, Roman had kept cool and, in the course of a surprisingly mild beating, explained that Alyosha would pay it back via full-time prostitution involving extreme sex, sometimes on video.

Now, under Pyotr's guidance, Alyosha had never been averse to getting paid for sex, but it had been limited to getting his cock sucked or giving blow-jobs and hand-jobs.

He had never taken it up the bum (danger of disease) or gone to a punter's home (danger of rape and even murder).

Roman's demands had horrified him—especially the video bits: so many boys involved in videos had vanished; and there was the horrible phrase Snuff Movie which was whispered on the streets.

He had, of course, agreed to Roman's demands and then gone into hiding. He had spent a hard winter avoiding Roman and now, just when the better weather was coming, Roman had traced him.

He would have to move to another district. The railway district was five miles away; but was it too obvious? There were rich pickings, but he would probably have to join a gang, though that would offer a bit more protection.

His big brother (A whole year older than him) had told him: Never join a gang—it's for life, and not a long life.

He was musing on his options when he heard the front door open.

Oh, no: they'd traced him!

He drew his knife.

But these footsteps did not sound like criminals so he stowed the knife.

The steps walked directly up to his hiding-place and he saw two boys of his own age looking down on him.

They were clean and dressed in expensive Western clothes. The nearer boy was scruffy but pleasant-looking—a bit of a rogue, he thought, like himself. He didn't look like a monkey so why did a monkey-image spring to mind? He had a sense of unreality.

"Whaddyer want?" he said, in the huskiest voice he could manage.

"Nothing," was the reply, in a very pure Russian, "It's what you want that interests us, namely: some education in wizardry."

"What?"

"You're a wizard. You don't know it, but you are."

"A w-w-wizard? Do you mean like Koshchei? You're mad."

"How did you escape today when one of those men could have caught you with either hand?"

"He's probably a smackhead."

"Maybe, but on a windless day a newspaper blew over his head. You moved that newspaper."

Alyosha drew his knife again: "You're a loony! Piss off!"

The boy drew his own weapon. A wooden stick.

"Ha bloody ha!" said Alyosha.

The boy smiled and the knife flew out of Alyosha's hand, butt-first into the boy's hand. He then waved his stick at it and it disappeared.

Alyosha's head was spinning. He must be hallucinating. It wasn't hunger and it wasn't the glue—or maybe it was: perhaps he'd gone psycho like people sometimes did.

"My names Danny; what's yours?"

"Alexei—Alyosha."

"This is my friend, Brian; he doesn't speak much Russian."

"Good afternoon, Alyosha," said Brian, in a strongly foreign accent, "The floor is under us and the ceiling above us."

The first boy spoke a strange language to the second boy and they both laughed. It was not cruel or hysterical or false like so much laughter on the streets; it held warmth and happiness—infectious, because, for the first time in months, Alyosha felt a bit of happiness inside him.

"Where do you live?" asked the boy—Danny—he'd known a boy called Danil who'd died.

"Nowhere," he said, feeling a touch of self-pity.

"Have you no parents?"

"No, I have a big brother in prison."

The two boys chatted for some time in that strange language. Could it be American?

Then Danny turned to him: "We both agree: from now on, your home is our home; and your brother's too."

Alyosha was suddenly suspicious: you don't get something for nothing in this life. Perhaps they were recruiting for sex; for one of those Snuffs.

"I'm alright, thanks."

"You're not alright: you need help and you need friendship; and you're frightened it's a trick. We're staying at that big hotel with my mum and dad. You can come and meet them—in the doorway where it's safe if you like—and decide.

It was the mention of mum and dad that did it: his dad had left when he was five and the longest-lasting step-father had made his mum throw them out when he was eleven.

He started crying. He tried to stop himself. If you cried on the street, you showed you were weak and got robbed or worse.

Danny pulled him up and hugged him.

Alyosha hugged him back, then jerked away: "You queer, or something?"

"That's a hug of sympathy, not sex; but I am a queer and Brian's my boyfriend and my mum and dad don't mind and when you're in the magic world you'll find they don't mind much either."

A second mention of mum and dad combined with the evocative childhood phrase magic world disarmed Alyosha completely.

The three boys walked in the direction of the Ukraina, talking along the way.

"Have you ever experienced things like the flying newspaper before?" asked Danny.

"Not so I noticed; but I've had some lucky escapes."

"What about your brother?"

"It was a lucky escape that got him into prison: he was being chased by three coppers and one of them was just about to catch him when he fell down and broke his skull. The other two swore in court that my brother pushed the copper and his Defender didn't bother asking how he had pushed over a man he was running away from."

"Perhaps he did; and perhaps he's a wizard like you. That would be good. It would simplify the training and educational work.'

Alyosha had no time to consider the absurd concept of staid, ordinary Pyotr as a wizard: one of Roman's men was lounging against a wall. He saw the three boys and put his fingers to his mouth. A shrill whistle sounded.

Roman was no fool: he had stationed his men to give a good coverage of the area.

"Run!" shouted Alyosha, turning round and grabbing Danny's arm.

"Don't exert yourself, Alyosha," laughed Danny, "Just let me know which is the leader."

They stood and waited. Three of the other four came running.

"That's Roman, that one!" said Alyosha.

He was frightened but also felt a weird confidence in Danny.

Roman approached grinning unpleasantly.

"Alexei!" he sang and drew a gun.

Amazingly, he carefully placed the gun on the pavement, followed by a knife.

The other three added their weapons.

They bowed to Roman and walked placidly away.

The extraordinary Danny waved his stick, saying mysteriously: "Harry once did that," and the weapons disappeared.

He was frightened: this couldn't be happening. His legs could no longer hold him and he felt himself falling to the ground.

He was held up by the other boy who, as Alyosha, sagging, stared at Danny, told him politely: "My name is Brian. I live in Yorosk."

X X X

An hour later, Alyosha, showered and dressed in brand new clothes, was sitting at a table in a great high-ceilinged room with the four others.

They were eating a meat-and-rice dish with raw vegetable nibbles and drinking fruit juices.

Alyosha had initially felt an urge to bolt as much food as possible before it vanished, but Mr and Mrs Jorrocks had slowed him down by making him relate his life story between mouthfuls.

He had taken an immediate liking to Danny's parents, even though they sounded like provincials: the father authoritative but slightly self-effacing, the mother . . . like a mother should be.

And the parents were so considerate: translating for Brian along the way—into English, he now knew.

And how could parents be so friendly with their son? And with their son's boyfriend?

"Thirteen . . . only thirteen and you've suffered so much," said Mrs Jorrocks, "How old is your big brother, Alyosha?"

"Fourteen, Miss."

"Imagine, Stephen: a big brother at fourteen. We must get him out,"

Alyosha shook his head sadly: "It's not as easy as it was: in the old days the cops did what their boss told them; now they all want a cut. And Roubles can't buy anything; it's gotter be Dollars. Three thousand they say."

"Your brother Pyotr:" said Mr Jorrocks, "where is this Juvenile Correctional Educational Resettlement Facility where he is being held?"

Alyosha gave them the name of the prison and the full name of Pyotr.

They had an evening of playing games—lots of word games to improve Brian's vocabulary.

Alyosha learnt a lot too, but mainly what it felt like to be part of a family.

Then he wondered how long it could last. He was from the streets: could they really accept him as one of themselves?

But they had accepted Brian; and Brian was queer and couldn't even speak Russian. . . .

He threw himself cheerfully into the games.

X X X

It had been an eventful day and the three boys were very tired and went early to bed.

Alyosha lay awake in the Number Two Guest Room thinking of Danny and Brian curled up together—he had seen that they shared a bed—in Number One, deeply asleep.

He had never slept alone in his life. He knew there was no need to be frightened, but couldn't shake off the mental heritage of eleven awful years with what could hardly be called a family followed by two years living on the streets.

He got off to sleep at last, but seemed to wake up immediately, sweating, terrified and suppressing screams only because of his street-conditioning.

He got out of bed and looked next door.

By the light in the hall he saw Danny and Brian sleeping peacefully with limbs tangled. Queers! he thought, then saw that the boys were holding hands and felt an odd sense of exclusion: not sexual—he had never had a sexual urge in his life—but something to do with sharing your humanity—your existence—with others.

He went back to his room and collected the bed-cover. He rolled himself up and, lying on the floor beside his new friends, fell asleep immediately.

— CHAPTER THREE — Back to Hogwarts

Colin Creevey awoke on the first day of the summer term with a slightly sad feeling: Danny Jorrocks had left and exchanging owls with him was a poor substitute; Harry Potter was looking hag-ridden, as indeed, eponymously, was Hagrid who, in addition, was looking as though someone were bullying him; Dumbledore was in hiding; Umbridge was Head; Professor Trelawney had been replaced by Firenze—the boys tended to get embarrassed at the sight of the huge horse's dick flopping about underneath him, but the girls loved the deeply spiritual Centaur.

Hogwarts wasn't the same and Colin felt lost: he wished now that he'd spent the night with his brother, Dennis, for comfort.

The brothers had been happily bumming each other through the holiday but, though they loved each other dearly, it wasn't the same without Danny—three was definitely company.

In any case, Dennis was thinking more and more about Mandy Brocklehurst these days. She might be nearly three years older, but love seemed to have struck. Colin was happy for Dennis but it made him feel somewhat alone.

If Danny had been here, he would have prescribed Plenty of vigorous rectal massage with injections of hot protein.

The image was powerful and Colin wanked into his pyjamas.

X X X

As he dressed, he brightened up: there would soon be a meeting of Dumbledore's Army: good fun in itself, but also useful; and the chance for Harry to lose himself in the fierce joy of teaching his friends.

He went down to the Great Hall.

"I was lonely," said Dennis, "I wish we'd slept together."

"Same here," said Colin, "Let's sleep in mine until things get better."

The brothers managed to cheer each other up, despite there being, in truth, no prospect of things ever getting better at Hogwarts.

Sea Jay and Jonathan entered, holding hands, and headed for the Creeveys.

Colin's two dorm-mates had got up at the same time as Colin, but had lost five minutes as they chatted about how much they loved each other. Colin felt a further upsurge in spirits as he thought of the privilege of being friends with such loyal boys.

"No-one knows his name yet," said Jonathan Neil, "but Harry's lot have got Transfig with Ravenclaw after break."

They looked at the newcomer.

He was a broad-faced, snub-nosed, freckly, straw-haired boy who had appeared at the opening dinner. He was presumably sixteenish as he was sitting with the Ravenclaw fifth-years.

He appeared to be quite at ease and the girls were making much of him—except, bless her, Mandy Brocklehurst, who was admiring Dennis.

"Seems OK," said Ray Kelly.

Sea Jay was more specific: "Well shaggable!" he said.

Everyone knew that the Ministry hated mid-year arrivals at Hogwarts, so it was likely that the new boy had some pull.

As it happened, they did not need to wait until lunch to learn the new boy's name: Umbridge announced it in her speech.

In an unprecedented show of contempt for the school, its staff and its pupils, Umbridge had simply not bothered to turn up for the opening Sunday-night dinner.

"Hem-hem!"

Mid-way through breakfast she had arrived and was going to address them.

"Welcome to the last term of the school year. This is the term for O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s. This is the term for making career-affecting decisions. You are all required to be responsible students, working dedicatedly for the good of wizardkind.

"There will be no more nonsense such as we have had to suffer in the past: put a foot wrong and you will suffer expulsion—after severe punishment.

"And if you want to know what putting a foot wrong means, I will tell you: in my school, everything that is not banned is compulsory. Everything is subordinated to the collective of which I am the leader.

"We have one arrival this term: Yuri Prokofiev, whose family are one of the oldest pureblood families in Europe and have sent their son to what is once again the finest School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world.

"I have no new departures to announce but inform you that Hudson has been officially entered in Ministry records as Expelled, despite the return of the ring that he stole from Slytherin House."

Colin smiled inwardly. He knew that Brian had really stolen a magical mummified penis, and that the ring that had been sent to Hogwarts was a Portuguese Muggle antique that Mr Jorrocks had had engraved with a serpent. The story was that Danny Jorrocks had forced Brian to own up and return what he had stolen, so maintaining the fiction that the Jorrocks family were sympathetic to the Dark Side.

Umbridge continued: "One thing that the Ministry agrees with me should be banned is the practice of boys holding hands. This confusion between wizard-like and witch-like behaviour is revisionist and there will be no more of it.'

Everyone looked at Tintin Wilkes, who had spent at least thirty minutes on his opening-day make-up.

But Tintin escaped censure and Umbridge continued:

"And also: let there be less noise at mealtimes—entering, eating or leaving."

She sat down amid the silence she had requested, except that some little boys (little girls too, maybe) endeavoured to expel whatever flatulence they could muster with as much force as possible.

And the innocent parties giggled loudly so that a healthy uproar was soon restored.

X X X

The first lesson was Care of Magical Creatures.

Colin walked down with Sea Jay and Jonny.

"You really miss him, don't you, Colin?" said Jonny.

"We all do."

"You're missing your Agent," said Sea Jay.

"I'm missing Danny!"

"I mean Danny had sex with half the boys in Hogwarts, which means you did too: through his agency."

"Bloody hell, Sea Jay," said Jonny, "You've been at those Muggle Cyclometry books! Can't a boy miss his friend because he misses his friend?"

"Brother," said Colin.

"Anyway," continued Jonny, "we're always your mates and we'll always sandwich you like we're doing now!"

The three boys closed and wound their arms around shoulders and waists—the old cow hadn't banned that yet.

There was an Aaaaah in the air. Was it real or psychic? Either way, it sprang from ten teenage girls bewitched by the prettiest fifteen-year-old in the school.

X X X

At lunchtime, the Gryffindor table was buzzing with the news: there was something going on between Seamus Finnigan and the new boy, Prokofiev.

The story finally sorted itself out: The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had been together for Transfiguration. Not for the first time, Professor McGonagall had been forced to separate Seamus and Dean: it was only a few weeks to O.W.L.'s, but the two friends still couldn't resist playing the fool.

Seamus had been sent to work with Prokofiev who had greeted him with a kiss on each cheek.

This was a cause for quiet ribaldry: Weren't foreigners weird? Poor old Seamus!

They had worked well together as Prokofiev was competent and spoke excellent English.

At the end of the lesson, the formal kiss was repeated and followed immediately by a long, deep snog. The initiator was not known, but the enthusiasm and pleasure of each of the parties was not in doubt.

Lavender Brown, whose on/off romance with Seamus was probably entering an off phase, barged past the two kissers, accidentally elbowing Seamus in the ribs. This had the effect of pressing Seamus hard against the Russian so that the passion-level increased.

In the Great Hall, the news was quickly spread and analysed; Seamus was repeatedly explaining that it was an old Russian custom and Irish Hospitality meant he couldn't say no; Lavender was fluttering her eyelashes at Dean Thomas.

Then the boy himself strolled over from Ravenclaw and nudged himself into a seat next to Seamus.

"Ha-ha, my friend!" he said, in a slightly foreign accent, "Brilliant kisser! Where did you learn to kiss so well? You are ugly, so with whom did you do it?"

Seamus was often red-faced, but this time it was not through anger.

There was a great roar of laughter. Prokofiev was clearly an exponent of the Russian illusory, and near-extinct concept of Glasnost.

Harry Potter was the first to raise dissent: "Seamus is fabulously good-looking!" he said, and there was an immediate chorus of agreement, including many girls, but not including the stony-faced Lavender.

Prokofiev looked around him in amazement and then saw Colin.

"Great Koshchei!" he shouted, "There's fabulous good-looks; there's beauty; there is a face that would launch a million war-brooms."

Colin was as embarrassed as Seamus.

Both lads were relieved when the food appeared; but Prokofiev couldn't stop looking at Colin and asked him over pudding: "While you are perfect, please let me take some photographs of you."

Colin suspected that nudism was involved: "What sort of photographs?" he asked.

"Ha-ha, none that you would know of: I am the only wizard in Russia skilled at the Muggle art."

"But . . . how extraordinary! That's my hobby too."

"And I bet he's better than you!" said Dennis.

But the photographers were not out to be competitive: they discoursed deeply, and to the boredom of everyone else, on Leicas and Bronicas and other arcane devices.

They agreed to meet, together with their equipment, when the Russian's O.W.L. revision permitted.

X X X

That evening the Gryffindor common room was more subdued than might be expected, given the spectacular exit that afternoon of Fred and George Weasley. Many of the fifth- and seventh-years, awed by the workload for the coming exams, were away in the library; the remainder were bent over books and parchments. Out of respect for them, the fun and games were subdued—the absence of the twins, of course, reduced the noise anyway.

In one corner, Sea Jay, Adam Watts, Derek Rath and Adrian Pucey were talking and writing. Organisations were banned unless sanctioned by Umbridge, but this wasn't an organisation: this was just four friends meeting socially. The fact that these same four boys had been formerly known as Gay Champions was a mere coincidence.

Second-years were currently being sent to bed by the prefects. Colin waved goodnight to Dennis but, instead of stretching to give himself more room, snuggled up closer to Jonny Neil.

"Fifteen yards away and you miss him, don't you?" said Colin.

"Yeah, he makes life worth living—specially now Danny's missing—are you still going to spend the summer with him?"

"Yeah. Brothers reunited."

"That's a point: do you think Umbridge would allow brothers to hold hands?—I mean, she wouldn't punish you and Dennis would she?"

"I don't care. I wouldn't use a technicality to get one-up on people like you and Sea Jay. Anyway, holding hands is only a bit of icing on the cake; I saw you two walking to Muggle Studies after lunch: you were nudging each other and touching each other and it was just as intimate."

"Talking of being intimate: why not spend the night with us?"

"Not tonight, Jonny. Den's waiting for me already—oh look: your soulmate's free."

"Arsehole-mate more like!" came a voice from behind.

Seamus had returned from the library.

"Scrag him!" shouted Sea Jay, and he came running over and bundled Seamus onto a sofa.

Jonny and Colin jumped on top, and the lads rolled onto the floor.

Colin found his mouth close to Seamus's and pressed his lips to it, inserting his tongue as far as he could.

Seamus stopped struggling and pushed his tongue against Colin's. The other lads withdrew and Seamus and Colin snogged for two seconds. Then he heard Dean's voice: "It's Beauty and the Beast!"

Seamus broke off and said: "It's only a joke!"

Dean said, in quite a respectable Russian accent: "Ha-ha! He may be ugly but he makes a good joke!"

Amid the laughter, Colin savoured the memory of a hard bump pressing against his side. Had Seamus been turned on by the boys, or was it, as with so many teenagers, a case of erectio perpetuo?

Colin found that he was erect himself. He knew that this was not just because Seamus was extremely shaggable and not in the least ugly, but because Seamus shared a dormitory with Harry Potter.

He had felt a bump that spent every night five yards from Harry!

He left the turmoil and ran upstairs.

X X X

The curtains were drawn around his bed.

Stewart Appiah, who was coming out of the bathroom smiled: "Family visit, Colin."

"Goodnight, Stew."

"Goodnight, Col."

He stripped in double-quick time and slipped between the curtains. Dennis was reading, but put his book down to cuddle his brother.

Colin took off his underpants and crawled beneath the sheets.

"You're keen, darling Col," whispered Dennis, who had seen Colin's hard, dripping willy.

"Got some news, but first, can I do you?"

Colin had been buggering his brother for at least five years and had always asked permission, but these days, the request was not simply a matter of respect: for years penetration had been easy and painless but, in recent months, Colin's willy had grown to the point that a lot of preliminary work was needed, even though Dennis had once managed the much larger willy of Tom the Muggle.

After their usual passionate kiss, Colin set about things: a tongue licking around and inside Dennis's bumhole; a magic lubricating spell; some fingerwork; a last minute dunk in Dennis's mouth.

Then his willy was easing its way into Dennis as he lay on his back clasping Colin to him.

Then Colin was right inside and quivering as his brother whispered: "Mmm, that's so good!"

He moved quickly and hard, slowing down to enjoy what he always got from Dennis: a shattering orgasm and a fabulous feeling that the two of them were together in a wonderful world.

After pausing for breath, he told Dennis the wonderful news about Seamus.

"He always looks randy, doesn't he?" said Dennis, "We'll have to try it hard this term."

"He's got his O.W.L.'s."

"Then his relaxing time will be shorter but intenser."

"Dennikins: your brain is growing as quickly as my cock!"

"Can I?"

In reply, Colin turned on his stomach.

Dennis liked doing his brother last thing at night so that he could fall asleep inside him. Like a sucked thumb, it usually slipped out, but it was a comforting way to lose consciousness.

Dennis mounted quickly and performed for some time like the pistons of the Hogwarts Express until his squeals of orgasm came—all three brothers were among the few boys lucky enough to experience strong pre-pubescent orgasms.

As desired, the brothers fell asleep in a connected state.

X X X

When Colin woke he was aware that it was still night-time and that he had been disturbed by someone shaking his shoulder.

He reached for the light and, despite the evening's events, was surprised when he saw Seamus.

"Er . . . I was wondering if we might continue where we . . ." said Seamus.

"Hello Seamus!" said Dennis, emerging from the middle of the bed.

"Merlin! You startled me!"

"Never mind that," Dennis snapped in mock-anger, "Why have you still got your clothes on?"

Seamus, in fact, only had a dressing-gown on, and that was soon off, showing the small, but active, willy that they had seen in Staff Quarters and that Colin had detected in the common room.

Seamus immediately locked lips with Colin. Seamus's tongue flickered in his mouth and he found it very sexy.

There were other sexy things: he could taste tobacco and smell Seamus's sharp body odour. Dennis had his head snuffling in Seamus's bottom.

Colin remembered the controversy about personal hygiene: Danny versus Derek on the subject of Seamus's niffs.

He gently pushed Seamus away and made a dive for the naughty parts.

He snuffled about, savouring the sour, fishy smell from Seamus's willy and the wet-dog smell of his sack.

He was on Danny's side, though, to be fair to Derek, Mrs Finnigan had probably seen to it the Seamus was well-scrubbed before getting on the Hogwarts Express. Colin was experiencing a day's accumulation; with Derek, it had probably been a week or two since Seamus had washed.

He let his nose make the rounds again, then called out: "Swap!"

He climbed over Dennis, exchanging a kiss on the way, and buried his nose in Seamus's bottom.

The musty smell, with its tangy undercurrents, was overpowering at first, but resolved itself into a mixture of flavours.

Colin had not had a lot of experience—he had only sniffed Dennis, Danny and the members of Danny's dorm—but he suspected that Seamus possessed the most uniquest of Bumholes—and only what Mrs Englishen-Latin called a double howler could do justice to it.

He had a feeling that most of Ireland was covered in peat-bog and suspected that it was the smell of peat-bog that emanated from Seamus's bum.

Seamus himself was getting restive and muttered: "Come on, Colin!" while stretching Colin prone.

"Do it the Danny way!" said Colin, turning onto his back and drawing his legs up.

"Yeah, that's best," said Seamus, lifting Colin's legs and pressing his penis against his hole.

"It's actually the Harry way," he muttered casually as he rammed his penis forward,

"What!" shouted Colin.

"Harry!" shouted Dennis.

"Never mind that now!" gasped Seamus as he banged Colin hard—the way that he had banged Danny on that memorable Sunday.

"But—" said Colin, before being cut off by Seamus's gasping, slobbering mouth.

"What about Harry! Tell us about Harry!" shouted Dennis, but couldn't get Seamus's attention.

And as Seamus was bouncing on top of him, all Colin could think of was that the cock that was giving him such pleasure had been up Harry too. He was shagging a boy who'd shagged Harry Potter!

The excitement gave him a strong orgasm which was shared by Seamus who accompanied his frenzied lunging by panting for breath, poking his tongue far into Colin's mouth and muttering Gaelic endearments.

All this time, Dennis was asking about Harry Potter and. as soon as he got his breath, Colin joined in: "Seamus, tell us about the Harry way: you've bummed him haven't you?"

"I didn't mean nothing," said Seamus.

"You did!" said Dennis, " 'cos he wouldn't have bummed you 'cos he's got no hair and can't do dry orgasms."

"How do you know that?"

"Never you mind!" said Colin, "Tell us about bumming Harry."

"I'll tell you what: we'll swap stories."

"Truly and completely?"

"Truly and completely; on me mammy's whiskers."

"Done!" said Colin.

"Now tell us about bumming Harry!" said Dennis.

"Right; well, it was an accident—" began Seamus.

"You can't bum someone by accident!" said Dennis.

"We'll be here till Beltane if you don't stop do bail!"

"Sorry!"

"Yeah. Well, we weren't talking all year an' we made up when the Quibbler came out and Harry came over to my bed and gave me a good mouth and then Neville came over and bummed him . . ."

The Creeveys gasped, but kept quiet.

". . . and Neville mouthed Dean . . ."

Another gasp.

". . . Who filled his mouth seven times over and then I saw Harry with his arse in the air and Neville's cum dripping out of it, I couldn't resist it and he said I could if I kissed him and so I bummed him and he said I was a good kisser . . ."

"You are a good kisser, Seamus," said Colin.

". . . so, you see it was just an accident."

There was silence as the brothers took in the earth-shattering revelations.

Then Seamus said: "Now let's hear your story."

"Wait a minute," said Colin, "Was this Harry losing his virginity?"

"I should think Neville's been bumming him for years."

"And what about bumming people himself?"

"Probably not. He's a late-developer, as you know . . . now tell us how you know."

"Wait a minute," said Colin again, "What about sucking you off?"

"He's been sucking me 'n' Dean for two years. Probably Neville too."

"Anyone else?"

"Not that I know off . . . unless he does it with his mate Damian."

"Oh, you know about Damian?"

"Never met him. Ron and Hermione have. They liked him."

"What about Ron?"

"Never done a thing. Not even a grope."

"Definitely not gay."

"I'm not gay," said Seamus indignantly, "Nor is Dean or Neville or Harry. It's just lads helping each other out; like tonight. Now tell us your story."

"Well we used Polyjuice," said Colin.

Seamus looked blank and then exploded: "Ha-ha-ha! So you took his body; and now you know it better then he knows it himself! Ha-ha-ha and which one was Harry?"

"Well the first time, it was Dennis . . ."

"The first time! Ha-ha-ha!"

". . . and me and Danny did everything you can think of with him. And the second time Danny was Harry and we did it with Danny's dorm-mates."

Seamus laughed again: "Brilliant! Harry'll be tickled green when he hears."

"Oh don't tell him," said Colin in some alarm.

"Don't worry: he likes a good laugh; and he'll be pleased and flattered and cheered up no end. . . . and now Dennis, before I go, I wonder whether . . ."

He didn't need to say any more: Dennis lay back and raised his tiny bottom. Seamus plunged in and started humping quickly.

Colin crawled round the back and had another whiff of Seamus's peat-bog before sinking his teeth in a buttock and depositing a love-bite in the Watts-Weasley class.

Seamus laughed and, in a few more seconds, at the moments of orgasm, gave Dennis a beauty on his neck.

"Pass it on, Dennis!" he laughed.

They lay still for some time.

Finally, Seamus said: "Well, lads, all good ends have come to a thing so I'll be off for my beauty-sleep—or should that be ugly-sleep?"

The brothers said goodnight and Seamus left with the parting-shot: "Sorry Dennis for bumming you by accident!"

"There's a lot to talk about tomorrow, Den," said Colin.

"Mmm."

They cuddled up for the night.

"I love you, Den."

"I love you, Col."

— CHAPTER FOUR — A Day in Moscow

Danny Jorrocks woke, as he had awoken for the previous nine weeks, with an intense feeling of happiness.

As always, he had a few seconds wondering why he was so happy and, as always, he found the answer in the head that lay touching his head, the leg stretched out between his legs and the arm thrown across his body.

It was still dark. He slipped his left arm under Brian's neck and the boy moved naturally in his sleep to rest his head on Danny's shoulder.

Danny stroked Brian's spine, his hand coming to rest on a solid buttock and his index finger brushing a bumhole. Until recently, Danny would have had to stretch more to reach Brian's bum.

Danny was growing—and not just his arms: when they were standing, he could now definitely look down on Brian. His penis was approaching man's estate and developing its own interesting upwards curve. He had a mass of hair under each arm wafting a Danny-brand of mature odour which the sleeping Brian was currently enjoying.

He was aware that the skinny Russian boy, Alyosha, was sleeping beside the bed. He mustn't like sleeping on his own and Danny felt a failing in his usual sensitivity not to have thought of this beforehand.

He would see that Alyosha never had to experience fear again. . . .

He was lightly asleep.

X X X

Danny and Brian woke up properly at eight o'clock.

Having greeted each other with a kiss, they got up and dressed.

They decided to leave Alyosha to sleep on—eight o'clock in the morning did not exist for street-boys—and joined Danny's parents for breakfast.

"Tell us about this Kryuchkov, Dad," said Danny.

"He's a good-quality wizard," said his father, "He wants power and he's clever enough to know that magic folk will always form a tiny minority of the world's population, so real power will always be with the Muggles; but he wasn't clever enough to play the game of Muggle politics. He's a cruel man and he followed his heart, not his head, in backing the cruel Muggles when they were doomed."

"But how much of a threat is he?" asked Danny.

"He has some powers of Siberian Dark Magic that could make him awkward. I didn't realise he controlled the Muggle gangs until Professor Wolland told me, which reminds me: were you here?"

"Of course I was here! The Professor clocked me too, so leaving us at Patriarch's Ponds was a waste of time."

"I don't suppose the Professor had realised your maturity."

"He does now! What was his little scrape that happened when he was young and foolish?"

"He might have been young once, but he was never foolish. It was nearly half a century ago: he decided to hold a Great Ball to celebrate his hundredth birthday which fell on Orthodox Good Friday—an auspicious day. Having an eye for business, he located the Ball, not in Greece, which was the natural location, but in Moscow, which would give him a good opportunity to make new contacts.

"In Moscow he found a Muggle régime as full of Evil as any Dark Realm; yet one that declared itself as existing solely for the benefit of the poor. He was so disgusted that he determined to demonstrate the insignificance of the men who were leading Russia and the hypocrisy of their ideology.

"He did all sorts of magic culminating in a display in front of hundreds of people who crowded a theatre. He broke every clause of the Statute of Secrecy."

"What did the authorities do?" asked Danny.

"Well, as you know, there isn't a centralised Ministry in Russia. Their Department of Muggle Relations—it's still based in Vladimir, you know—had to issue an international appeal for Obliviators—Professor Dumbledore was one of them—and do you know what the Obliviators found?"

"I can't guess."

"The Russian rulers had done all the Obliviation already: the people were so used to being told what to believe that they accepted that nothing had really happened: it was all a trick by foreign agents and provocateurs."

The boys laughed.

Danny said: "Do you know? No matter how stupid some magic folk are, Muggles always seem to be that little bit more gullible!"

All four laughed at this: wizards enjoy finding Muggles childlike.

"Gullible reminds me of Gully," said Mrs Jorrocks, "Any word?"

"I forgot to tell you: I told him I'd send a closed owl at ten o'clock."

"What's that?" asked Brian.

Mrs Jorrocks explained: "There isn't a spell-field in Moscow, Dear, but you can hire a municipal owl that's invisible to Muggles."

"And who's Gully?"

"He's my right hand man in Russia," said Mr Jorrocks, "and he's been searching for our friend's big brother."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Aged Parents," said Danny, "It looks as though Pyotr's a wiz too, doesn't it Bri?"

"Chased by cops," said Brian, "Nearest one tripped up."

"That would simplify things at Yorosk," said Mr Jorrocks.

X X X

They talked about the state of wizardry in Russia until, promptly at ten o'clock a tap on the window announced the owl's arrival.

Before Mr Jorrocks dealt with business, Danny asked: "Excuse me please, could you spare a small feather?"

The owl looked at him for a moment, then stretched a wing and plucked out a feather.

Danny took it: "Thank you very much."

Mr Jorrocks gave the owl a treat, slipped ten Knuts into the owl's purse and offered it a scroll addressed simply: Gully.

The owl flew off and the boys went off to wake up Alyosha.

The boy looked pathetically puny: his skin was almost translucent, but Danny thought he was still beautiful—especially his long, floppy hair, coloured a deep cadmium yellow.

They sent for some breakfast and sat in the main room while he ate it.

Then it was time for fun.

"We're going to try Alyosha's wizarding powers," Danny told his mum and dad and they retreated to the bedroom.

Brian's wand proved the better-suited: Alyosha could occasionally produce a few pinhead-sized flashes when he waved it.

They set him to levitating the feather. Wingardium Leviosa! he called again and again with no result.

They gave him a break, more attempts, more breaks until he could make the feather twitch which caused him to clap his hands and dance around the room.

During the breaks, they got Alyosha to tell them some more about the street life of Moscow.

After more work, Mr Jorrocks called them in to the next room: "The owl's arrived."

They raced next door and Mr Jorrocks handed Danny a parchment:

Message Begins:

Pyotr Davidovich Kalinov b. 20/XII/1981 located Podolsk Muggle Juvenile Mistreatment Centre.

Refused to leave unless accompanied by friend, Chaikovsky.

Await instructions.

N.B. Kalinov and Chaikovsky both rudimentary magic.

Others Obliviated.

Message Ends.

Danny gave it to Alyosha: "Can you read that out loud?" he asked.

Alyosha stuttered through it with a little help, taking a break to shout That's his birthday!

Danny then gave it to Brian: "Read aloud and translate into English," he said.

Brian made a good of job of reading, but needed a lot of help translating.

"Good phrase for any boyfriend of yours," he told Danny, "plokhoye obrashcheniye—mistreatment."

Mr and Mrs Jorrocks watched their son's educational efforts with pride, then Mr Jorrocks asked: "Alexei, have you ever heard of this Chaikovsky?"

"No, Sir. Does this mean you've lost your money?"

"Don't worry about that! We'll have Chaikovsky out too! Dictation, Alexei!"

And Alexei wrote quite well:

Message Begins:

Authorised extract Chaikovsky in addition.

Message Ends.

The owl was sent on its mission and the twitching feather demonstrated before the five of them set off for more tourism.

They spent an hour in the big department store laughing at the prices rich Muggles were prepared to pay for useless clothes, kitschy jewellery and sickly perfumes.

Then they went to Gorky Park and rode on the dangerously decrepit big dipper before sampling some ice creams.

They went to the cinema and ended the day with some kebabs served in a Central Asian restaurant.

— CHAPTER FIVE — Alexei's New Life

Alyosha was awakened by a gentle prod from someone's foot.

He had an immediate feeling of elation which he interpreted as due to the brilliant theft-opportunity.

There would be a wallet and a purse with money and cards—the latter sold for as much as fifty American dollars. There would be jewels and passports and aero-tickets—all easily thieved; all easily carried; all easily sold.

He opened his eyes and saw his new friends.

That was the true cause of his elation: friends: he had friends; not just friends: family.

He felt a sense of disgust that he should even have thought of stealing from them; then he realised that, in all his life, he had only stolen to buy food and glue and vodka: he had never, like the tough guys, stolen for greed.

As sleep faded from his mind, he realised there was more: his new family were proper people: they would look after him so he never had to steal again.

"Yes!" he shouted and smiled at Danny and Brian who smiled back. He wanted to kiss them, then checked himself: kissing other boys showed weakness and, as for kissing queers . . . well, you couldn't want to kiss queers.

He noticed for the first time that each boy wore a ring on his engagement finger . . . surely that couldn't mean. . . .

He had known some marriages—near-marriages, anyway—where the women were really men. Sometimes you'd never know and sometimes it was obvious. Some of them took pills which gave them tits—Mitzi was famous for having a giant cock and giant tits. It was rumoured that, if you were rich, the doctors would cut off your bits and give you an electric woman-hole so you could make a fortune on the game.

But Danny and Brian were both normal boys. You couldn't look at them and say that one's the girl.

He got to his feet.

"Do you want a morning hug?" asked Danny.

"Er . . . no thanks."

X X X

As he ate his breakfast, he listened to the conversation. His new family was talking a strange series of non-sequiturs interlaced with English. Then he realised that they were teaching Brian Russian.

It was a set-up he didn't understand: Danny was obviously Russian and he had obviously known Brian for a long time, yet they were teaching him beginner's Russian.

The parents didn't provide any additional clues: Mr and Mrs Jorrocks were also Russian, but with provincial accents. He thought about the mystery while he ate his breakfast.

Mrs Jorrocks again regulated his eating, making sure that he chewed properly and insisting on some fruit, but doing it with such kindness that he knew she was doing it to make him strong and healthy.

"Please can you direct me to the nearest Apparating Point?" said Brian, to Alexei's incomprehension.

X X X

The session with the magic wand was tremendous fun. He could feel a latent power in his wand-arm; it was an unknown power, not like the power you felt with a knife in your hand. Similarly, there was some unknown emotion that you had to draw from within yourself.

And these things had always been within him and would have remained undiscovered had not these two boy-wizards encountered him by chance—fellow-wizards he amended mentally.

"You lost concentration, Alyosha, you were thinking of something else; try again."

He could only think how nice Danny was.

"And again . . . Relax . . . think of the feather . . . and . . . Wingardium Leviosa!"

He wondered if Danny and Brian were doing it.

"Sorry, I need a break."

"Don't worry. We're starting you off on quite an advanced spell, aren't we Bri."

"Yeah."

"Late starters need to push themselves."

He would push himself, he thought; he would make Danny proud of him and certain that he had not wasted his time when he rescued him from the street.

When he actually succeeded in getting the feather to move a tiny bit, he was so happy for himself and his friends that the urge to kiss them came anew. He had to counter this by dancing about the room.

Afterwards he remembered the street-tale of the boy—another Alexei, as it happened—who had danced for twelve hours and dropped dead. Had that been because of drugs; or had the other Alexei also danced to stop himself kissing other boys?

X X X

When he heard that an attempt to rescue Pyotr had failed, Alyosha was not dispirited: he had confidence in Mr Jorrocks and his family and was sure they'd soon have Pyotr free.

But what about when he was free? Could he expect them to look after two street-kids?

But these people were different: they used owls to send messages; and he was different too: he could move a feather.

No, they wouldn't let him and Pyotr down; and there was further evidence: they wanted to improve his reading and writing: they were investing in him.

X X X

Alyosha had only entered the big GUM store once before and on that occasion he had been summarily thrown out.

Now, dressed in his new, Western clothes, he could look the security staff in the eye; he did, in fact, spot the man who had thrown him out.

"That security man," said Danny, "What has he got on his head?"

"Nothing," said Alyosha.

"Look again. Look very hard."

Alyosha looked hard and a blurry area suddenly resolved itself into a conical hat.

"It's a hat!" he said, "A wizard's hat."

"That's right; he's a wizard like we are."

"So why is he working here?"

"He doubles up as a Muggle and wizard security guard: the Muggles he catches are hauled off to the courts, but anyone using magic to steal faces a much worse punishment."

"What's that?"

"Can you see what's on his hat-badge?"

"Er . . . is it a snake?"

"No, it's a knout."

"But . . . knouts haven't been used since the oppressive Tsarist times."

"The thing is: wizards are sometimes tempted to steal things from Muggles; and it's very easy. So the Russian Wizarding Militia uses the knout as a deterrent—it's horribly painful and they put an anti-healing charm on it so the pain lasts for weeks."

"What do they do in England?"

"Send them to a prison called Azkaban."

"Ugh! Let's not steal anything in Russia!"

The boys laughed, but Alyosha was glad when they left the store and went to Gorky Park.

X X X

The park was a magnet for every type of person you could think of: there were the carnival folk, talking their own slang; courting couples, often in foursomes; gangs of hooligans; better-organised criminal gangs; families; drug-dealers and their customers; prostitutes of both genders; street-kids; and, of course, tourists.

Tourists had the money—proper, hard money; not the Rouble that couldn't buy you anything.

Alyosha had worked the park quite often: begging; conning tourists on currency exchanges (my father works in a bank); picking pockets; selling sex.

He had had to evade the eyes of the Militia and the gangs: both would tax you—sometimes up to a hundred percent—but the gangs were worse because they would try and make you run drugs and your street-life expectancy would be much-reduced.

This was the first time he had been to the park since falling foul of Roman and, as in GUM, he felt a sense of freedom.

They had a lot of fun, the highlight being a ride on big dipper. He'd always been contemptuous of people who wasted money on a pointless journey, but now he thought it a lot of fun.

And he enjoyed the company: Mr and Mrs Jorrocks acted as a sort of safe centre from which the boys could explore; Danny was tremendous fun; Brian hadn't much to say except for the occasional: "What's the Russian for . . ."; but Alyosha felt he was genuine and would be loyal to his friends. Alyosha noticed that he always tried to keep Danny within vision.

There was no sign of queerness. You'd think the two boys were normal, though Danny tended to glance at Alyosha's willy when they were having a pee.

He had told the other two about his escapades in the park. They sounded more exciting and more fun than they had seemed at the time.

He hadn't told them about the sex. They were sitting in a café, the adults having a beer and the boys ice cream, when he thought about the subject. They were right next to a chocolate stand behind which there was a concealed corner where, after dark, he would take his punters.

The hand-jobs weren't bad, but the blow-jobs . . . he shuddered as he thought of the cum that he'd spat out there. And when they'd sucked him, they'd wanted him to go hard and sometimes got cross when he didn't.

He wondered if Danny and Brian sucked each other. Did they go hard? He glanced at Danny's trousers. There was a bump. Danny was hard now. Did he have a big one?

He was slightly disturbed at the thought and at the fact that his own willy was stiffening.

"Polish beer used to be better than Russian beer," he said, almost at random—anything to divert his mind.

"This is OK," said Mr Jorrocks.

"Mum and Dad are more at home with a gin-and-tonic," said Danny.

"What's that," asked Alyosha.

"You shall have a sip this evening, Dear," said Mrs Jorrocks.

X X X

They went to a film called Burnt by the Sun which showed a Hero of the Revolution being betrayed by a member of his own household.

He guessed they'd picked this one to improve Brian's Russian Language and History.

It wasn't really a kid's film but the other two boys were interested. Danny seemed to be giving a running commentary or translation to Brian, yet Alyosha couldn't hear a word. Perhaps it was another wizard thing.

His mind wandered. In this very cinema he'd given quite a few hand-jobs: the punter sitting motionless with his coat on his lap; the furtive little motions with a thumb and two fingers; the man staying like a statue as the warm, sticky stuff gushed.

He'd liked doing business in the cinema: it was warm and safe and the punters couldn't cheat him—in fact he could sometimes squeeze a little extra money: the punters knew that there was always the possibility that the boy could shout out a complaint of molestation.

He was sitting next to Brian and an impossible image came into his head: Brian with a coat on his lap being wanked with a thumb and two fingers.

Alyosha was hard and he didn't like it. Was being queer infectious? Had Danny put a wizard spell on him as he done on Roman? He dismissed the thought angrily: he was in a new world and street values did not apply: before, you knew that everyone was out to get what they could from you; now, he was with four honest people who had showed him kindness and friendship.

Then he had another, more cheering, thought: perhaps he was changing.

He was thirteen years and three months old. Most of the street-kids changed at fourteen or fifteen—a few earlier and a few later. Perhaps he was one of the early ones.

He would soon be going with girls. He would get a girlfriend and pimp her to foreigners and earn enough money to buy a Mercedes.

He pulled himself up again. This was the old way of thinking. He was a new boy—a new man!

X X X

Mr Jorrocks had skipped the film and gone to his office. He rejoined them in a restaurant where they had a fabulous meal and Alyosha was given the promised sip of gin-and-tonic. It was bitter and he didn't like it.

"I don't like it either," said Brian, as Danny guzzled the remainder with enjoyment.

Alyosha realised that Brian had said this so as to make him feel less of an odd man out. He could understand adults showing such sensitivity, but coming from kids it was rare.

Perhaps it was because they were wizards: Danny had said that wizards didn't mind queers much; perhaps they didn't mind anyone unusual.

Tolerance. That was the word.

He was still thinking of this as they walked from the restaurant to the Metro.

"Danny," he asked, "Are all wizards good people?"

The reply saw them almost to the hotel and, by the time Danny had finished, Alyosha was left in no doubt that Dark Magic existed and was an ever-present threat to human values.

The lads were tired and went to bed willingly.

Alyosha was delighted that he was to share a room officially: a small bed had been moved into the room holding the big bed inhabited by Danny and Brian.

The boys said goodnight and he lay in bed reviewing the happy day. Tomorrow might be even happier: Pyotr might be with them.

He went to sleep immediately but again woke in a sweat after a bad dream.

All was quiet. Too quiet. He listened for the breathing of the other boys. There was nothing.

He was frightened. The old fear of the dark.

He called out: "Danny?"

A voice came: "Mmm."

Thank goodness!

He called again: "Danny?"

A light came on.

He sat up and saw Danny sitting up looking at him.

"Danny I had a bad dream. Can I sleep at the bottom of your bed? I won't take up any room."

"Bring your pillow."

He got out of his own bed and into the big one, laying his pillow at the corner and lying across the bed, right at the bottom.

"Not that way," said Danny, "lengthways."

He turned through ninety degrees and lay right at the edge of the bed, taking care not to touch Danny.

"Oh, Alyosha," said Danny, "We won't bite and we won't begrudge you space."

He got up and moved Alyosha's pillow to the midpoint of the bed, a good foot from the bottom.

He was naked: a body nearly as skinny as Alyosha's, but with a thick bush of hair and a man's willy which wiggled as he moved.

He straightened Alyosha and arranged the bed cover so it came up to his chin.

Brian had awoken. He raised his head, smiled, said: "Hello Alyosha; come to join us?" and lowered his head, moving closer to Alyosha and laying a hand on his shin.

Danny padded back to the top of the bed, got in, said: "Night-night Al," and turned off the light. Like Brian, he snuggled up and found Alyosha's leg. Then, clutching Alyosha's foot to his chest, he fell asleep.

Alyosha felt safe. He had had never felt safer, and it didn't matter that he was sandwiched between two naked queers.

He woke several times through the night. He knew this was because some part of him needed consciousness to celebrate his happiness.

Yes happy: every time he woke, he clung tightly to one or other of his friends.

— CHAPTER SIX — When Colin Met Yuri

Next morning, the Creeveys needed a shaking from Sea Jay to wake them up.

"Rise and shine, sluggards!" he said, "Pew! Which of you hasn't washed recently? Well, you're a bit late for a shower."

Surprisingly, he hadn't noticed Dennis's enormous lovebite; if he had, then, in conjunction with Seamus's pong, he might have deduced the earlier presence of a third party.

They dashed down to the Great Hall a couple of minutes after Sea Jay and Jonathan (not holding hands.)

They shouted a Good Morning! to Harry and his friends, but just got the same in return, with a smile and a wave. Evidently Seamus hadn't told Harry yet.

"I can still smell Seamus on us," whispered Dennis.

"So can I; it's really sexy, isn't it."

"No . . . Colin . . . I don't really like it and I think it's because I'm straight—well, more straight than gay."

"That's something new to celebrate. I'm as proud of my straight little brother as I would be of my gay little brother."

"I'll always enjoy going with you and I'll go with you whenever you want, but I want to have girlfriends too."

"Makes no difference; I'm still proud of my little brother."

"Col, if we shared girlfriends . . ."

"Den, remember when you were nine: I told you I would never have a girlfriend. I'm like Danny and the others and that's just one of Nature's rules."

"Yeah; but make hay while the sun shines: I want you to do me three times a day and fit me in when you can."

"No schedules, Dennis: we'll just follow our moods."

"I love you, Col."

"I love you, Den."

"What are you two rascals plotting now?" asked Hermione as she passed.

"Nothing, Miss," said Colin."

"Sabotaging the O.W.L.'s if you want, Hermione," said Dennis.

Hermione laughed: "Oh don't remind me!" and moved smartly off.

Seamus stopped on his way to the door. He stooped and whispered: "I forgot to tell you last night, lads: Harry's got some wispies: I saw them in the showers. But I don't think he can shoot."

"What makes you think that?" asked Colin.

Seamus glanced round furtively and whispered: "I've been checking his pyjama-bottoms."

The brothers burst out laughing.

"Ssh!" said Seamus.

"Oh Seamus," said Colin, still sniggering, "Danny'll be so proud of you."

"Don't tell anyone," said Seamus, "It's not sex; it's just interest; and I won't tell Harry about the Polyjuice."

"Tell Harry, please!" said Colin, "We're not ashamed."

"It's not as if we Stunned him . . ."

". . . and did it on his real body; or Confunded him . . ."

". . . and that's not really bad . . ."

". . . if he never knew . . ."

". . . he wouldn't mind."

"But now he knows that we know his body really well . . ."

"So when he gets the urge he knows he can come to us . . ."

". . . and get appreciated!"

"And shafted!" concluded Dennis.

"Yes," said Seamus and hurried towards Hagrid's class.

Colin had the horn and it wasn't all this talk about Harry that was doing it: it was Seamus's pong.

Danny would have understood: another reason for missing him.

X X X

Before parting to go to their lessons, the brothers discussed the mysteries of sexual attraction a bit more.

Then Colin lingered with Sea Jay and Jonny on the way to Professor Darrington's class and reviewed the issues with them.

"The bottom line, Colin," said Sea Jay, "is that everyone's different—even gays: every gay has different sexual feelings from every other gay."

"Yeah," said Jonny, "and it's a waste of time trying to ferret them out. We three and Dennis—and others—have Love and Friendship and Sex if we want it and life is glorious enough without trying to explain it all.

They resisted the urge to hold hands and walked separately into the mathematical torment.

X X X

At break, the brothers formulated a letter to Danny.

Since he was so far away, letters had to use Muggle technology; and since Umbridge was known to be having the mail monitored, they had to be invisible and go circuitously.

Harry Potter had passed the solution to Danny: use a Muggle toy marker which would stand up to any spells—even Revelio! —but could be rendered visible by the application of baking powder.

They could write ordinary letters to Mr and Mrs Creevey who would read them, then make the secret bits visible and Fax them to the Jorrocks and Company Moscow office who would reFax them to wherever Danny was currently located.

In reverse, Mrs Creevey had to remember where she had put the invisible pen before transcribing Danny's words between lines of her own letter, while keeping four kids and a husband clean, fed and organised.

And she didn't mind in the least: she was so proud of her wizard brood.

Because of Mrs Creevey's involvement, some coding was required. So Harry's sex-life became:

NL-B-HP-4 SOME YEARS; HP-S-SF&DJ-LAST 2 YEARS; SF-B-HP-ONCE APR.

Other bits of information could be expressed openly:

COW UMBRIDGE BANNED HAND-HOLDING.

SEAMUS & HARRY FRIENDLY; SEAMUS FRIENDLY WITH US.

NEW RUSSIAN BOY, 5TH YR RAVEN - YURI PROKOFIEV. ANY CONNECTION?

FRED & GEORGE LEFT SPECTACULARLY – UNREMOVEABLE SWAMP (NB YOUR T STILL UNREMOVEABLE) – SETTING UP JOKE SHOP.

LOVE FROM YOUR BROTHERS.

While they were distilling this wisdom, a number of people passed nearby and, from further off came occasional wolf-whistles.

Dennis had shared a lesson with Hufflepuff and that sex-mad house had noticed his lovebite immediately.

There was a fair amount of jollity, but there was a deeper underlying interest: Dennis was now known to be indulging in serious romance—not just the rumoured fling with Mandy Brocklehurst.

Colin put it in words: "You're like a queen cat on heat with all the toms chasing after her, except it's the queens chasing a tom in your case."

Mandy herself was heard to comment: "Not bad, but I could do better!"

X X X

On the way to Transfig there was a buzz of interest.

The interest turned to amusement and admiration as people saw what Adam Watts and James Poxon were up to.

"Bloody hell! The buggers have pipped us again!" said Jonathan Neil to Sea Jay.

Adam and James, boys of similar height, and were walking normally despite Adam's right ankle being strapped to James's left ankle.

Professor McGonagall showed no reaction, but some people thought she might have referred to the couple in her opening address:

"This is the year when the hard work begins: you have just twenty months until the O.W.L. examination which will affect your whole future. Getting a good grade requires hard work which must start now—today!

"Transfiguration requires methodology, but also initiative and imagination which some of you already show; and a tidy mind reflected in a tidy appearance.

"I see this in some of you today, so ten points to Ravenclaw."

At the end of the lesson, Jonny and Sea Jay Engorged a handkerchief and tied themselves together.

They were of matched height but fell over twice on the way to Games.

"You got some sneaky practice in, didn't you?" shouted Jonny.

"All through break," replied Adam.

Then he waved goodbye with both arms, shouting: "Look Umbridge: no hands!"

X X X

Before lunch they had time to send off their owl

During the meal, Prokofiev approached the Gryffindor table.

"Hello Darling!" roared Seamus, who had lost his embarrassment, "Come and turn your ugly sister into a pumpkin!"

Prokofiev smiled, but approached Colin: "You are named Colin. I am called Yuri and I have laid out my kit in my dormitory. Would you like to see?"

"Yes please. When?"

"Straight after dinner?"

"I'll be there. Why don't you sit down and take pudding with us?"

"I will. To be with a boy of such beauty is a pleasure, though I cannot say the same for British puddings."

Colin blushed.

"I bet Russian puddings are nice," said Dennis, approving of anyone who admired his brother.

"How much? And with whom? And how is the bet decided?"

"Do you know the word colloquialism?" said Ray Kelly.

"Ah . . . I bet I do now. You are . . . brainbox? That is colloquialism?"

"Yes. Your English is excellent, but it is missing the colloquial touch; for example, in conversation we don't say with whom, which is correct but who with, which is wrong."

Ray and Yuri had a learned conversation, during which it emerged that Yuri hadn't met a native speaker of English until Sunday night.

"Is that why, you're at Hogwarts?" asked Dennis?

"No; my parents sent me here to take O.W.L.'s as they are the most internationally recognized qualifications; but tell me, my precociously active cherub, is that really Harry Potter?"

"Do you know about Harry in Russia?" asked Colin.

"Of course. The Boy who Lived. Please introduce me."

Colin led Yuri along the table to Harry who was greeted with the double-kiss, but not the snog.

"Pleased to meet you," said Harry, "Er . . . I've got to go now."

Yuri returned to finish his pudding.

"Our friend Danny lives in Russia," said Dennis.

"Ah yes, Danny Jorrocks. His father is also famous in Russia. He is my beauty's best friend, I think."

"He's our brother," said Dennis.

"By adoption," said Colin.

Yuri thought for a moment about this, then said: "Is he a beauty too?"

"Do you know what tautology means?" asked Ray.

"Of course. But surely too adds information, so it is not tautologous."

"As far as Danny's concerned, beauty is tautologous—he says all boys are beautiful."

"Ah . . . he is a lucky boy . . . to be surrounded by perfection in his eyes."

"See yer."

Ray was off to spend time with his beloved Trinity before lessons separated them.

Colin was a little shyer than when he had had Danny with him, but he found the strength to step back when Yuri tried to kiss him goodbye.

"I don't like that peck-peck you do," he said, "kissing is for friends."

"But we are friends now," said Yuri, with a captivating Slavic grin.

"But you do it with strangers, so when you do it with friends, it doesn't mean anything extra."

"Which it should," said Dennis.

"Different countries have different customs," said Yuri.

"I promise you that, if we meet in Russia, we'll kiss each others cheeks," said Colin.

"All eight!" said Dennis.

"All twelve!" said Colin.

"Yeah, I'm not that straight!" said Dennis.

X X X

That evening the brothers discussed prospects.

"Do you think he means to seduce you?" asked Dennis.

"I think so."

"What are you going to do? He is rather dishy, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but I'm not like Danny: I need to get to know people first."

"So does Danny; it's just that he only takes five seconds to get to know people."

"I think I'll tell him no; and I may be flattering myself: he may not ask."

"Are you kidding? He's bowled over, Col, and he had the horn at lunch."

"So did you, Den."

"I was thinking about the same person as he was."

"Seamus!"

"Ha-ha! Anyway, shall I go along too? Then we could decide as a team"

"No, you'd be bored, Den. But why not come over to Ravenclaw anyway and spend some time with Mandy?"

"I'd enjoy that. And we could have a sesh afterwards."

X X X

It turned out that seduction was a low priority for Yuri.

As well as cameras, cases, filters and lenses, he had a high-class tripod and battery-powered floods.

All this plus a full set of developing kit complete with enlarger and guillotine—it was totally Muggle.

"Wow!" said Colin.

He was really impressed: his camera was cheaper; his developing kit primitive; and he had none of Yuri's fancy accessories.

The talked and played with the stuff for half an hour, then Yuri set up the lights and they took photos of each other with each other's cameras.

Then they called in those of Yuri's classmates who were about for a group photo.

Then everyone wanted to be shot so they had to be selective.

They allowed Adam and James some official engagement photos and Trinity Freeman a photo for Ray.

Then they shooed everyone away while they packed up, relenting when Tintin appeared, having touched up his make-up and donned a Muggle evening dress.

Tintin struck a dozen poses and couldn't understand why he couldn't see the results immediately.

Finally, just as they were packing up, Colin remembered his brother and they shot Dennis and Mandy a few times.

It had been tremendous fun—just like playing with toys on Christmas morning.

They childish atmosphere was maintained when Colin spotted something in Yuri's trunk.

"Real Russian dolls!" he said delightedly and picked up a stylised, wooden image of a Russian lady.

"We call them Matryoshka dolls," said Yuri

Colin pulled the lady apart to reveal a second lady, and repeated the process. He stood the three ladies up.

"Shouldn't there be more?" he asked.

"Yeah, there are three missing, but these three are nice," said Yuri, "So is this."

Colin turned round, expecting to see another nice Russian toy. Instead he saw a white, pendulous penis.

"Er . . . yes." he said.

Yuri swung it from side to side a few times.

"Touch it if you want," said Yuri.

"Er . . . not now . . . I've got Astronomy and I'd better see if Dennis is OK."

"Can I see yours?"

"No time . . . well just a little time."

Colin flashed his penis for five seconds; then tucked it in.

He was half-relieved when Yuri tucked his in as well. All the same, it was a real corker—such a corker that he wasn't really interested in what the erect version looked like. Danny always insisted that a limp penis was more aesthetically attractive than a stiff one.

"You have a nice cock too—cock is right?"

Colin nodded.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen years and three months; how old are you?"

"Sixteen years and two months. I hope we'll have some cock-fun together one day."

"Er . . . yeah."

He shouldered his camera and turned to the door. He wished Danny were with him; and Dennis.

At the door, he turned: "See yer, Yuri, and thanks for the evening."

"See yer, Colin and thank you."

Then he thought: Yuri had behaved as a gentleman. He returned across the room and smiled: "We ought to say goodbye properly—no not that cheek crap!"

They snogged for ten seconds then Colin finally left.

He found Dennis in a corner of the Ravenclaw common room with his arm round Mandy.

"Come on, Den; nearly curfew for you and Astronomy for me."

Dennis kissed Mandy goodnight and got up.

"Don't I get a goodnight kiss, too, Colin?" asked Mandy.

To much amusement, Colin kissed his brother, saying: "Pass it on."

"Bravo, Colin!" shouted Michael Corner.

As they left they saw that, though it was past first-years' bed-time, Tintin was still up. He was surrounded by a fan club which included hundred percent heteros like Eddie Carmichael and Terry Boot. Colin noted only one definite gay: Nathan Passaro, the Slytherin first-year. He wasn't getting much of Tintin's attention.

X X X

The brothers walked slowly to Gryffindor and debriefed:

"How was it Den?"

"It was good. I felt comfortable with her and they didn't take the mick—well, not much and it was affectionate. Her friends are really nice too. And I'm glad you had fun—even if it was just camera stuff."

"It was more than that, Den."

"Colin! You didn't?"

"No, but he showed me his willy."

Colin told him about the conclusion to his get-together with Yuri.

"It was white, Den!" he said, "White like marble—well, maybe a bit creamier. And it was long! It dangled. Danny would have loved it."

"I wish I'd been there, Col, er . . ."

The brothers laughed and cuddled each other.

"Getting near curfew, boys," said Angelina Johnson who was returning from the library.

They knew that Angelina was stressed up to the brim with N.E.W.T.'s, Quidditch, and being a prefect in the Umbridge régime so they surrendered quietly.

The common room was a miracle of peace just a few groups or individuals bent over books and parchments.

Colin saw Harry gazing into space, but his gaze focused:

"Colin! Dennis! Come here you little rogues!"

Harry had a chair to himself so the brothers were able to squeeze themselves each side of him.

Dennis put an arm round Harry and said: "It's about the Polyjuice, isn't it, Harry?"

Hermione pricked up her ears: "Polyjuice? I hope there's none of that around?"

"No," said Colin, "Danny took the last with him."

"Danny was using Polyjuice?"

"And me," said Dennis, "I was the first."

"The first what?" said Hermione, bemused.

"The first Harry, of course!"

"You Polyjuiced Harry? That's completely unacceptable."

"But we got the idea from you," said Colin, "And you can't deny it: everyone knows you used it in second-year. Danny said it was a brilliant bit of Potioneering."

"That was to deal with the little matter of a loose Basilisk."

For some reason this sent all four boys into titters.

"So why did you want to take Harry's form?"

"I don't think you want to hear this," said Ron.

Hermione looked as though she was ready for a fight, but suddenly blushed. She gathered her things and swept off saying: "Ron, you're a Prefect. Sort it out!"

"I don't think I want to hear this either," said Ron.

"Oh, stay," said Harry, "Best mates should stick together through the bad times."

"They weren't bad times!" said Colin.

"You were brilliant!" said Dennis.

"If there was any justice, you'd have earned fifty points for Gryffindor," said Colin.

"Danny's an expert and he said you were a hot little sexpot!" said Dennis.

Ron giggled: "Are you sure you want me to hear this, Harry?"

Harry ignored him: "But why me?"

"Because Danny wanted to do you," said Dennis, "and he asked you; and you wouldn't; and Colin wanted you to be the first to do him."

"You never said, Colin," said Harry.

"I wanted the idea to come from you," said Colin.

Dennis explained: "So when Christmas came and Danny had some Polyjuice he needed for something else, we persuaded Colin and it was brilliant. And then Danny became you and we gave the lads in Danny's dorm a treat and all seven of us had a brilliant time and we all kept quiet until last night Seamus let slip what you lads got up to after the Quibbler came out and we agreed to swap stories, but it's all history now—'specially as you've got hair and can you shoot cum now?"

Harry just gaped, but Ron said: "It's virtually rape!"

"Oh yeah, while we're being honest," continued Dennis, "Danny heard that all of Slytherin think you've got a monster penis, Ron, and since it's the wrong way round for a malicious rumour it's probably true but how did they find out? And he wondered if it was rape."

Ron had gone a bright pink.

Harry came to his rescue: "That's Slytherin double bluff: Danny ought to know they're crafty. And I don't feel raped though it's a bit embarrassing: in answer to your question, I'm sixteen in a couple of months and I can't shoot cum yet."

"You didn't need to, to do all those brilliant wizard things," said Colin, "Nor what you're doing now," he added in a whisper, "We can't wait for the first you-know, can we Den?"

"No; as long as it doesn't stop training for the Big Game."

"And Hermione won't let us forget O.W.L.'s either," said Ron.

"She's got a point, Den," said Colin, "It's nearly Wednesday and we haven't done any homework."

"Let's bring our stuff down here and do it! You can join me after Astronomy."

So, until long after eleven o'clock, Colin slaved over a Transfiguration essay and a Herbology list. And long before eleven o'clock Dennis was fast asleep.

"Right that's it!" said Harry, "Bed!"

Colin guided a sleepwalking Dennis up the staircase.

"Where ya going?" asked Harry, half-asleep himself.

"We're gonna be your guests tonight," giggled Colin, "Seamus is gonna get a taste of his own potion."

Poor Seamus had just got off to sleep when he was wakened by a penis insinuating its way into his mouth and a pair of hands removing his pyjamas.

"Room for three?" said Colin.

— CHAPTER SEVEN — Danny and Brian Go Hunting

Danny Jorrocks woke up with the horn.

Quite normal, of course, but made inevitable this morning by the fact that Danny's boyfriend, Brian Hudson, had his right hand curled round Danny's penis.

To do this Brian had to rest his forearm on the bony knees of Alyosha.

It was only when he shifted slightly to press his hand more firmly on Brian's back that Danny registered Alyosha's presence, and it took him a second or two to remember who he was and why he was sharing their bed.

It was quite light—probably about nine o'clock. If all went well, Alyosha's brother and his friend would be arriving soon.

They'd better make a move.

He rolled away from the others—they both seemed to be asleep.

He walked round the bed and licked Brian's lips.

He kissed Brian's eyes and paused, looking at his sleeping lover.

Regretfully, he shook Brian's shoulder.

The boy eventually woke and looked into Danny's eyes.

"Come and have a shower," whispered Danny.

Brian let Danny pull him up and guide him into the bathroom.

"Wake up?" asked Danny.

"I can if you can."

Danny reached into the shower and turned it to COLD.

They took a deep breath and stepped in.

As always, Danny tittered as the chill caused cock-cockling which made his cock into a cockling.

"Don't make the joke or I'll run away with Stan Shunpike," said Brian, referring to a notoriously randy and versatile bus conductor.

Danny drew Brian to him and the heat of their bodies seemed roasting in comparison to the icy water.

They shivered for a minute until Danny turned the valve up to half-way between WARM and HOT.

They washed their hair, then Brian stepped out of the direct line and Danny started soaping him: neck and shoulders; arms and armpits; back and chest; legs. Then he slowed down the pace and enjoyed the miraculous buttocks and the mystical crack with its secret hole. And then, after exploration of every square inch of smooth, firm, white flesh, the culmination: the tight sack and the skinny, stiff penis. He soaped his hands afresh and rubbed them up and down the shaft.

Brian didn't get sexual sensations yet, but he enjoyed the comfy feeling as his willy was being rubbed.

Eventually Brian stepped into the stream and pushed Danny out.

Rôles were reversed and Brian did the soaping.

There was a different climax, though: by the time Brian moved his soapy palm across Danny's willy for the first stroke, Danny's whole body was jerking and quivering and soft squeals were coming from his throat.

It took only a few strokes before blobs of cum, immiscible in water but washable-away shot out.

Brian pulled Danny into the shower and the soap and cum drained away.

"You needed that," said Brian.

"I wanted that," corrected Danny, "The only thing I need is you."

They dried themselves and, brushed their teeth before trotting back to their bedroom and sending the wide-awake, but subdued, Alyosha to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, the three boys reported for breakfast.

X X X

Mr Jorrocks never got in a strop, but he was definitely looking discommoded when the boys entered.

"Bad news, Dad," said Danny; a statement, not a question.

"Have a look: from Gully," said Mr Jorrocks, passing over a parchment.

Danny read aloud with Alyosha looking over his shoulder; he translated for Brian on the way:

Message Begins:

Kalinov still refused to leave unless accompanied by friend, Chaikovsky.

Chaikovsky refused to leave because terrified of bad enemies on the out.

Gulley going bananas awaits instructions.

Others Obliviated.

Message Ends.

Unexpectedly, the first comment to be passed was by Alyosha:

"This is all BOLLOCKS! You're pissing me about."

"Calm down, Dear . . ."

Mrs Jorrocks was being motherly, but Alyosha interpreted her as being patronising—same soup, different mouth.

"You just pick me up from the street and tell me I'm special and you're special and you can get Pyotr out of prison and you're just stringing me along, and I'm not going to make a living feather-jerking, am I and you're just a load of bullies. And I just want out!"

He glanced at Danny, then ran out the room. The heard the suite door slam.

Danny sent his Patronus to keep tabs on Alyosha.

"I could do without this," said Mr Jorrocks, "I've got to be in Rio in"—he looked at his complicated watch—"thirty hours. I wish we'd never met the little sod—sorry, Danny!"

"We saved his life, Dad," said Danny, "and we've probably got to save it again."

"What do you think, Dear."

Before his mother could answer, Danny said: "We'll find him, Dad, and take him into the prison. He'll convince his brother and Chaikovsky that it's safe to escape and we'll have him them secure in Yorosk in no time."

"What's this we?" said his father, "If you find him on the streets, you can send him to the prison with Gully."

Mrs Jorrocks smiled: "If we can send him into a tizz, how do you think he'll react to Gully?"

Mr Jorrocks smiled too: "Point taken. Isn't it best to just Confund him?"

"No it isn't: there's a world of difference between Confunding to block your enemies and Confunding to control your allies. That's a line we mustn't cross," said Mrs Jorrocks.

Danny shied away from thinking about his mother's lecture on morals: he had, on occasion, at least teetered along the line that mustn't be crossed.

"Right Daniel," his father said firmly, (Good, thought Danny, he wants to get to the airport.) "If you can find Alexei and convince him that we're the best way to get his brother out, then you and he can go in with Gully—"

"And Brian."

"—And Brian, if he's daft enough to want to participate, and release the Podolsk Two. And, remember: the Russian law-enforcers may be disorganised, but there's some powerful men and women, so Confund first and ask questions afterwards—subject to that line, of course."

Five minutes later, Danny had hugged his dad goodbye and set off to find Alexei.

X X X

"Don't get it," said Brian as they emerged from the Ukraina.

"Nor do I," said Danny, "It wasn't exactly dashed hopes—he must have known that we wouldn't give up on his brother."

"Not a nut-case, either."

"No."

The two boys were starting their walk on a sunny, but chilly, Moscow spring day.

There was more bustle than usual as a lot of out-of-towners had come to take part in the big May-day parade. A lot of them were currently leaving Moscow: they were lodged in the town and heading to the periphery for rehearsals.

The two young wizards were not hurrying. They were following the gentle psychic tug of Danny's Patronus and were unspokenly allowing Alexei a cooling-off period.

Public seating held a sprinkling of veteran soldiers; at this time of year, and at one or two other times, they polished their medals and sat out for hours—for weeks—proud of their accomplishments a half-century ago.

Danny admired them and their terrific victory tremendously. He also imbued them with retrospective sexiness: when they had been going full-out for the Germans, they had been as young and beautiful as the current members of the Russian Army who were also visible at this time of year.

"How many?" asked Brian

"Eh?"

"How many soldiers are you shagging in your mind?"

"A barracks-room-worth; and your deductive skill never ceases to amaze me, my dear Holmes."

"Saw you looking at the soldiers and getting the horn, Watson."

Sherlock Holmes was the most popular character in Muggle Studies.

"Missing the dorm?" asked Brian.

"Only in so far as every moment I miss every previous moment."

"Yeah. It's a bugger."

"Which is why it's important to make the present time happy."

"Disillusion."

Danny obliged, and they kissed and cuddled for a minute or so before continuing their walk.

X X X

"He's making for the Railway Area," said Danny.

They had walked for about two miles. A couple of hundred yards back they had passed the local Militia HQ, recognizeable by the number of vehicles and pedestrians coming and going.

"Laurel and Hardy," said Brian.

During the previous two months, Danny had introduced Brian to the best Muggle films.

This particular incarnation of the immortal pair took the form of two militia-men, one of whom was carrying . . .

"Have you seen?" said Brian.

"Yeah."

A solitary cop was walking in the same direction as the boys and approaching his two colleagues.

Danny put a mild Confundus on him and he muttered: "Inspection today."

"Shit!" said Laurel, and dropped the trainers in the gutter.

The cops accelerated their pace.

Danny picked up the trainers and examined them.

"No marks; no smell; but it can't be a coincidence," he said.

"Not going far without shoes," said Brian.

They walked for two miles more; then they saw him sitting in the concourse of the big railway station, his back to a wall and ventriloquising Spare a Rouble? to the passers-by.

Danny released his Patronus and walked up to Alexei.

Brian sat down on one side of the boy and Danny on the other.

"Funny old world!" said Danny.

— CHAPTER EIGHT — Alexei Has a Late Breakfast

Alyosha had a peaceful night and woke up as happy as he had been at bed-time.

He could feel Brian's warmth on his left side, but Danny had shifted away: he was getting up.

He simulated sleep and looked at Danny through half-closed eyes.

But he had to goggle when he saw Danny's loins: he had a full utrenniy stoyak—a morning stalker—and, not only was it large out of proportion to his height and build, but it had an upward curve that seemed to raise his zalupa so that it was looking out on the world as cheekily and cheerfully as its owner.

Even as he admired Danny's equipment, Alyosha felt a twinge of shame: the Jorrocks spoke proper Russian but he had no education: he only knew the slang terms for all sorts of things, not just men's bits.

He watched as Danny, with wonderful tenderness, woke Brian and he marvelled at the love that showed as they gazed at each other.

Brian was still a boy. He didn't have an erection but it was still a beautiful willy: thin like a snake and swaying as he walked out the room with Danny.

They were going to have a shower together. No doubt they were going to have sex. Would Brian fist Danny's baldie? Or smoke Danny's tube? Or make a dog?

Damn! His thoughts were all in slang.

And what thoughts! He had actually used the word beautiful about a little boy's willy.

And he had an erection—an erection like a steel bullet.

And there was a feeling . . . almost as if he wanted to join them.

For a moment his legs actually twitched.

No. He must think of other things. Wizard: he was a Wizard and could move a feather.

He moved his hand as he thought of the magic wand and noticed that his right foot was quite wet. Had Danny wanked over it?

He tested it with finger and nose: no, it must be spit. Danny must have been sucking.

This was getting weirder: who would want to suck a boy's toes, even subconsciously in sleep?

When the other two boys came back—without erections, of course—he felt a pang of revulsion and was glad to get out of their company.

He washed himself a little bit and wrestled with his new toothbrush.

He saw himself in the bathroom mirror. He was dull and uninteresting compared to the lively Danny and Brian. He looked like what he was: a worthless street-rat.

The one tiny positive was that he would soon see Pyotr . . . but then that positive was soon removed.

When Danny read out the telegram, Alyosha seemed to be surrounded by a mist. He had seen people on the streets going fighting-mad and, weeks later, heard them talk about a Red Mist.

He'd assumed this was just a way of speaking, but there was a mist, grey, not red, but visible and seeming to press in on him.

The mist was hiding him from Pyotr and it had been generated by this weird, deceitful family.

He screamed out something and ran. He saw Danny looking at him with concern and nearly stopped to hit him, but he ran: out of the suite, down the stairs, out of the hotel, along the street. He ran until he was breathless. When he paused, he found that there were tears running down his face. He ran down a side-alley and concealed himself behind a big dustbin. He sobbed and sobbed.

X X X

"Your name?"

"Mikhail Alexandrovich Bratovich."

"Address?"

"Number One Seven One Children's Home."

Alyosha pattered out a long-established fiction for the big militia-man.

"Why were you running away," asked his mate.

"I wasn't running away."

"Don't lie, scum."

"It's true. I was running to see Auntie off at the Leningradskaya. Then I stopped because I was too late."

"And where did you get these clothes?"

"Auntie gave them to me."

"Turn out your pockets."

"They're empty."

"Shoes off."

Alyosha stood in his socks as one cop patted him down while the other poked his trainers.

It was a gentle pat-down. That was bad news: a probe around the privates and a finger up the bum meant he'd be released; their absence meant back to the nick for an official search and a planting of dope to justify the cops' actions.

Confirmation was soon coming: the big cop said "Let's hit the samovar."

"You're coming along to the nick," said his mate.

"Can I have my trainers to walk there, please," he asked, knowing it was hopeless.

"Evidence," said the little one.

"Come along quietly, Sir," said the big one, laying his hand on Alyosha's shoulder.

"Look at that! There's something going on there!" shouted the little one.

Alyosha could see nothing, but stood in his socks watching the cops disappear. For a tiny moment he had the impression that a monkey was pushing them on their way. What was this obsession with non-existent monkeys? Was he really going mad? He must have been mad to leave that cushy place.

He couldn't run but felt reasonably safe from pursuit as he gingerly walked the couple of miles to the market at the back of the station.

He found a clothes stall and tried to negotiate the loan of a pair of shoes, price-and-a-third to be paid when he had the money—a standard street-premium.

To his surprise, the trader agreed; to his dismay, the trader demanded his new clothes as security.

He had no choice and it was in rags and leaky shoes that he entered the station.

It was no use begging openly here, but if you sat quietly, avoided eye-contact and muttered your polite requests, you could usually last for some time before Security booted you out.

X X X

He had been there some time and had made three Roubles and fifty Kopecks when two flashes of brightness approached and sat down, one on each side.

Immediately he experienced a sort of time-warp and it came into mind that he had recently spent eight hours sandwiched between these two boys, just as he was sandwiched now.

He felt a sense of shame: they'd saved him from Roman; they'd been kind; they hadn't insulted him; he'd been at their mercy all night and they hadn't raped him. And now they must think . . .

"I didn't sell them!" he said.

"No," said Danny, "the cops took your trainers and here they are."

Alyosha took the trainers and put them on amid the sense of unreality that he associated with Danny. He did not ask how Danny had got them back from the cops: he knew whatever answer came would only confuse him more.

Danny picked up a discarded shoe.

"I wouldn't let a polecat nest in this; and look at your clothes! Do you like the state you're in?"

"No," mumbled Alyosha with eyes downcast.

"You didn't need to answer; it was my anger spilling over into silly questions. And here's another one: do you want to forget about wizarding? And here's one you must answer: do you really want your brother to get out of prison?"

"More than anything in the world," he said, feeling the tears coming back.

"Well hunger doesn't bring you pies; so why give the cooks a piss-off?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry's no good. If we start helping you and your brother, how do we know you won't run off again so once more we have the pleasure of hearing you say you're sorry?"

"I w-won't."

Alyosha's lip was quivering.

"Well, before we do anything about your brother, you'll have to tell us what's it's all about. But not right away: we'd better buy you some decent clothes," said Danny, "Where did you get these fleabags?"

Alyosha explained his deal with the stall-holder.

"Then we must stick by the deal," said Danny and, seeing Alyosha's bemusement, explained: "You made an agreement and you must keep your side of it. That's how we all get on with one another."

But the stallholder did not see it that way: he assured the lads that there had been a stipulated time limit which had now expired.

Alyosha could see his motivation: as things stood, the man had exchanged a pair of disintegrating shoes for a smart new track-suit.

Alyosha mentally shrugged: it was life as usual: who does what to whom.

But no sooner had the man explained things, than he'd changed his mind: "I'm sorry young Master, I tried to break our contract and that was bad—especially with a gentleman in difficulties. We'll stick with our conditions and, to remind myself to be honest with the Poor, I'll sell everything at half-price for the rest of the day."

Danny paid over the money, Alyosha changed his togs and they set off along the market.

As Brian dropped the useless shoes in the gutter, where they belonged, Alyosha could hear a voice calling: Half price sale! Everything half price today! Half price sale!

He knew that Danny Jorrocks had done one of his somethings.

X X X

They went into a bar, where Alyosha ate voraciously while the other two snacked and sipped fancy coffee.

"Today's lesson is: Never run away until after breakfast," said Danny and Alyosha couldn't help smiling. Perhaps life wasn't so bad.

"Now, are your thoughts in order?" asked Danny as Alyosha came to a stop.

"What do you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean: why did you run?"

"I don't know . . . it was all too much . . . Stress! It was Stress!"

Alyosha had heard this used as a catch-all excuse by all sorts of people, for all sorts of people, including themselves.

"That's like saying the reason I shot you was because nine grams of lead entered your head."

Unexpectedly, the quiet Brian smiled and said: "I understood that bit of Russian and I know why you shot him, Dan."

"Go on, then," said Danny.

"You ran JIGS, so you should know too."

"Bloody hell! Put me down: my brain's dead!" laughed Danny.

"What's JIGS?" asked Alyosha.

Danny laughed again: "Let's see how good a job I did on you, Bri: give him the lecture!"

So Brian gave Alyosha the full lecture, dealing with gayness in all its characteristics: temporary or permanent; full or partial; butch and camp; boy and man. He dwelt at length on its relation to Love and Friendship.

Danny translated, sometimes stumbling so that Alyosha suspected he was slightly improving on Brian's words. Danny also seemed to be watching Alyosha's reactions carefully.

When Brian had finished, Danny said: "So you see, Alyosha, being gay has no significance except as a simple term to describe part of you; it doesn't make you less of a man or less of a human or less of a wizard.

Alyosha looked disturbed: "It's not that easy."

"Why on earth not?"

"Well . . . you see . . . I'm sometimes a . . . a body-seller."

"An acceptable term for an honourable profession. What you do to live doesn't define you—and you must be very part-time, anyway, to get in all that cheating and thieving.

"That's what's upsetting: cheating and thieving do define me—a lot of me, anyway: I don't just do it to live; I enjoy it. But I've never enjoyed the other—nor hated it: it's just part of surviving another day."

"What was the other?"

Alyosha told them.

"That's good: you've avoided all these horrible diseases."

"Yeah, some of the boys died. . . . But they were mainly the ones who used needles."

"You've never done that?"

"Never been tempted; nor has Pyotr."

"And these men—these punters: didn't you fancy them at all?"

"No: they were just cash-dispensers; I never had sexual feelings."

"And then when you met us . . ."

"When I met you two, I had feelings I've never had before and I wondered if I had enjoyed body-selling all along."

"And sort of suppressed it. Why should you be bothered?—But, of course, you were bothered—hence the disappearance."

"I told you I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want—just get Pyotr out."

"Yeah, let's go and meet Gully."

— CHAPTER NINE — From the Arbat to Podolsk

Danny led them to the Metro at the Prospekt Mira.

The original Metro stations had been conceived on gigantomaniacal lines so as to demonstrate the infinite technological superiority of the country and the glories of a state run by the workers and peasants. Exotic and beautiful materials had been crassly arranged into a childish mish-mash of marbles, mosaics and lighting systems.

It was a lot to live up to, but Number Six line had done its best—and failed: there were elements of restraint and brightness; solidity and rhythm about some of the architecture which Danny found impressive.

As to the system, Danny found it better in every way than the London system, which he also knew well.

They waited a minute for a train and were quickly whizzed the dozen or so miles to the Bird Cherry district.

There was a lot of building work going on: blocks of flats twenty storeys high: like the Creeveys' but with much bigger bases.

Gully lived in one of the older blocks: five storeys and presumably undemolished because it was one of the smarter, brick-built blocks.

There was no dragon-lady and no entryphone system so the three boys walked up the stairs unchallenged.

There was no knocker or bell on Gully's door; instead, a strip of something like leather protruded.

Danny obeyed the sign saying Twist and a loud hissing followed.

Danny knew that he had just twisted a real snake's tail and that Gully, being a Parselmouth, would have understood the snake to be saying: Danny Jorrocks and two young males.

Heavy footsteps clumped and the door opened, revealing a very weird-looking old man.

He might have been any age from eighty upwards. He was stout, and his stoutness was emphasised by his grey robe which was made of thick material and had the same cut as a Muggle trenchcoat. His face was sand-coloured and wrinkled so that it was like a high-up view of dunes in a desert.

He was wearing a wide-awake hat that was pulled over one eye—an eye that Danny knew to be non-existent, having been sacrificed in exchange for wisdom.

He looked at the three boys and pronounced with resignation: "I hoped for one; I was told two; I've been sent three."

"And three of the best," said Danny, "These are my friends: Brian is half my soul and Alexei is the Kalinov whose brother we are extracting."

"I know this one," said Gully, "He threw stones at me."

"I threw to miss," said Alexei, "We all did—none of them hit you, anyway."

"The others threw to hit and you did nothing to stop them."

"Sorry, but they'd have thrown stones at me if I'd tried to stop them and they wouldn't have missed."

"And why shout Lenin at me? Who is Lenin?"

"A statue—at the Finland Station in Peter—he looks like you."

"Ah . . . I have been to Peter . . . there have always been statues crushing the bones of people there."

"Pyotr and I went to Peter. We jumped a train."

"Ah . . . trains . . . when they were magic: Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Come inside, children."

They entered a hallway. The first door on the right was open and they could see a huge cauldron burbling quietly to itself.

"How goes the potion, Gully?" asked Danny.

"So far, so good," answered Gully, "It will need thirty-seven stirrings in five weeks' time and some tail-clippings from a Ukrainian Ironbelly in eighteen weeks."

Gully had fallen in love with a woman sixty years his junior. His only hope was a love potion, but it had to be very strong and very permanent. The only available potion was from a Crimean recipe, and that was the one that Gully was currently brewing.

There was a slight snag: the potion took seven years to brew. Gully was currently nearly half way there and his pretty little virgin was currently on her second husband and expecting her third child.

They passed a second bedroom—it seemed that Gully slept on a mountain of rags—and entered a living room which was large by Bird Cherry standards. Danny was pretty certain that it had, like the Creeveys' flat, been Enhanced.

Danny turned straight away towards his favourite bench of antique magical detection, divination and calculation instruments. "Look at this, Brian," he said, and was soon showing the delights to his fiancé.

Rather than remain with Lenin, who he had until recently thought a mere figure-of-fun-about-town, Alexei hung around the other two boys, though not making much of Danny's learned chat.

"Got the samovar on, Gully?" called Danny over his shoulder, and the old man set about reviving his brew of Russian tea—the most magical of all potions.

He called the boys into the kitchen and dished out superb cups of tea which he tried to spoil with the addition of whiskey.

"None of that nonsense, Gully!" said Danny.

"It's Irish—the very best," complained the old man.

"Don't matter what it is, if you're going to drown it in tea," said Brian in English.

"Don't you believe it, young man," said Gully, also in English, but of a Midlands variety, "The tea improves the whiskey and the whiskey improves the tea."

Brian raised an eyebrow and Danny explained: "Gully's parents were Irish; his full name is Adrian Gillooly."

The three boys took their tea neat and had not finished their second cup before Gully, learning that Alexei was a nascent wizard, set him to raising feathers, making ripples in a bowl of water and changing the colour of a scrap of thread. Then he gave him his first potion lesson.

The four of them were enjoying themselves so much that, suddenly, the lamps were needed and there was a feeling of urgent hunger in the company.

"We'll go to the Arbat," said Gully.

X X X

The Arbat district had for centuries been the busiest part of Moscow; host to merchants, craftsmen, entertainers and travellers. In later years, areas behind the main road had sprouted posh houses for the rich and noble.

It had been destroyed—first by Napoleon and then by the communists. Each time it had been rebuilt, but there was one area that had survived each destruction and still functioned as it always had: Uli Volsheb, the Street of Magic.

Gully and the three boys entered the Wizard Zone by way of the main public lavatory.

Danny, with happy memories of London lavs, looked eagerly to see if there was any action. There were a few loungers at the entrance and a couple of men eying each other at the urinals, but Danny had no time to investigate as Gully ushered them into a cubicle which bore an Out of Order notice. He pulled the old-fashioned chain and the whole cubicle rose twenty feet to allow them to walk out onto the street.

And what a street!

The shops were wooden, but you could only tell this because of the warping that centuries of extreme climate had induced. Every available surface was painted and the shopkeepers competed with each other in the brightness and complexity of the artwork—representational, abstract and fantastic combinations of the two.

Danny and Brian had seen this before, but Alexei was amazed: "It's incredible! And is everyone here a wizard or witch?"

"Everyone," said Danny, "This is the commercial heart of Russian wizardry."

"Not just Russian," said Gully, "Look at the people."

They looked and saw every conceivable race, skin colour, facial type and dress. They listened and heard Russian spoken in a huge variety of accents. Moscow was a cosmopolitan city, but this went an order further.

A voice bellowed in their ears: "Gentleman! Come buy! First of the season"! Hothouse-grown!" He was presiding over a stall selling only a single variety of melon.

Gully ignored him and led the boys down the alley: "Come on comrades; food first and rubbernecking later."

They went to a restaurant called Brasserie Baba Yaga and, on Gully's recommendation ordered stew.

While they waited, Gully described the prison: "There's an admin building by the gate—two floors and isolation cells in the basement. There's a block for education and workshops and a block for sports and showers, but we're aiming for the residential block: that's an L-shaped building—three floors, seven tiny dormitories per landing, each holding ten boys. Four hundred and twenty boys altogether."

To Danny, who was missing the Heaven of Hogwarts, this sounded like double-Heaven, though the boys were prisoners. . . .

"What's it like in there?" he asked.

"It's good as long as they behave themselves. They get a healthy diet—healthier than they're used to; plenty of exercise; craft training; a genuine attempt to teach them reading and numbers. They have a doctor and a dentist. They're kept clean and they get an hour of TV every night and a film on Sundays."

"I'm impressed," said Danny, who had negative views on the Russian criminal justice system.

"Don't be: the sole aim is to make them suitable for the Russian Army—they've usually got a war going on somewhere."

"What about if they don't behave themselves?" asked Alexei, thinking of his brother, who could be pig-headed at times.

"They soon learn!" chuckled the old man, "Solitary in the isolation cell: bare concrete; totally dark: a bucket for your waste—not that you'll be producing much with the amount of bread and water they give you."

Alexei paled. Danny could see that the thought of Pyotr suffering this fate was horrifying.

"How long do they have to stay there?" Alexei asked.

"Varies: an untidy bunk might get you a night; fighting, thieving and rape would be four weeks for a first offence; murder is for life—none of 'em come back anyway, though some say they go straight into an Army punishment unit. Who knows? The ways of Muggles are passing strange."

Their food was brought: stew with dumplings. This may sound unappetising, but the meat was chunky and gristle-free; the dumplings were floury; and the gravy was flavoured with herbs and mushrooms from the Russian steppes and forests.

They ate greedily, answering Alexei's questions about the wizarding world with full mouths.

"We use the Muggle transport system quite a lot," Gully was saying, when he broke off.

"Damn and blast!" he said and stopped talking. More ominously, he stopped moving and Danny, diagnosing a Bodybind curse, leant over to support him if he looked like toppling.

Three uniformed Wizard Militiamen were approaching. They were accompanied by a man in plain clothes.

One of the men darted at Gully and pulled his wand from a pocket.

The plain clothes man spoke:

"Adrian Gillooly, you are arrested on a charge of Confunding several Muggle women so as to have unresisted sexual intercourse with them. You do not have to say anything, but we'll get the truth out of you down the Nick."

"Officer," said Gully, in treacle tones, "I was just indulging my little weakness; there was no harm done."

"No harm?" said the policeman, "Four abortions and two little bastards is enough to get you a dozen lashes with the Medium Knout.

Danny didn't even consider getting his money out: a bribe in such public circumstances was impossible. "Shall we come with you, Uncle?" he asked.

"No," said Gully, "Take enough money to settle the bill and go out and enjoy yourselves—if that's OK, Sir?"

The policeman nodded and Danny reached inside Gully's cloak to collect some coins.

"Wrap it in my hankie so you don't lose it," said Gully.

Under four pairs of sharp eyes checking for contraband, Danny obeyed. The handkerchief was old and stained. Danny tried not to look at the congealed snot.

The policeman released enough of the Bodybind curse to allow Gully to rise and walk out.

"See you, Uncle," said Danny.

"See you, Nephew."

Danny was fairly sure that Gully's lawyer was already hurrying towards Militia HQ.

"Will he really get the knout?" asked Alexei.

"No," laughed Danny, "Our lawyer will get him off on some legal technicality—this time: the arrest's really a warning that he's been going too far."

The Alexei forgot his sympathy for Gully: "Does this mean we can't get to Pyotr?"

"Don't worry," said Danny, "Tonight's the night, come what may."

X X X

Danny thought that they'd made themselves too noticeable already, so they left Uli Volsheb smartly and emerged into the Muggle world.

They took the metro for five miles and sneaked into Filyovsky Park, a large, densely-wooded area.

Danny was worried that they might be visible on the way to the prison, in spite of whatever Disapparition he could manage.

He lead them to the densest part of the wood and allowed Gully's handkerchief to flutter to the ground.

He drew his wand and concentrated on the handkerchief.

"Tapeta!" he called and the handkerchief gracefully enlarged itself until there lay on the ground a beautifully-patterned, richly-coloured carpet.

Alexei gasped.

"Surge!" called Danny.

The carpet rose to a height of four feet and stayed in mid-air, quivering as though it were eager to be off.

"All aboard!" said Danny, jumping onto the carpet.

"I don't believe it!" said Alexei. "It's a Magic Carpet!"

"And a good one, too," said Danny, reaching a hand to encourage Alexei to board.

"Won't we fall off?"

"Can't," said Brian, taking Alexei's other hand.

When the three boys were seated on the carpet, Danny told it: "Boys' prison Podolsk!"

The carpet rose gently to a height of about a hundred and fifty feet and, well-clear of the trees, set off in what Danny was pleased to note was a southerly direction. (All competent wizards can orient themselves using the Sun or the Moon or the Stars.)

It was a comfy ride: a low acceleration was followed by optimal negotiation of the gusts of wind; yet it was less than an hour before they were hovering over a group of buildings.

It was chilly and the three boys had huddled together during the journey. Alexei had been content to hold hands with two queers—perhaps it was a fear of falling off; perhaps it was because of the cold; but Danny hoped that it was human comfort that the boy needed most.

They looked over the side and Danny checked the location aloud: "L-shaped building; Administration; Gym; Education. This must be it. Cade!"

The carpet descended to the middle of the football pitch.

They dismounted and Danny called Sudarium! while holding the edge of the carpet.

Suddenly he had an ordinary hanky in his hand.

He stowed it in his pocket.

"Well, we've arrived!"

— CHAPTER TEN — The Juvenile Correctional Educational Resettlement Facility

Danny glanced at his watch and said: "We're early. It's half past nine and there's probably a shift change at ten. We'd better let that pass quietly by before we start upsetting things."

"Cold," said Brian.

"Yeah. A source of warm clothes . . ."

"He said workshops. They'll have overalls."

"Good idea. It'll be the building with the yard."

They walked towards the building.

"Can they really not see us?" asked Alexei.

"No, but hiding three people is quite tough so it's good technique to keep our voices low and avoid sudden movements."

Danny led them to the back door, whose lock responded to Alohomora!.

They found a stock of clean, thick overalls and caps in the office of the bricklaying shop—no trouble with the fit, this being a children's prison.

They went to the front education office which had a good view through its barred window of the entrance to the cell block.

They passed the time by teaching Alexei about Confunding and Disillusioning.

Ten o'clock came and went.

"The shift probably changed at nine," said Danny, "I don't think it'll be later 'cos of public transport."

"Might be on the half-hour," said Brian.

"Yes, they do that sometimes," said Danny, "We'd better wait till half-past. Damn Gully and damn his gash-hunting!"

It turned out to be a wise precaution: at ten-twenty a lone figure appeared, walking from the main gate towards the residential block; by ten-forty they had counted four out and four in.

They decided to wait another twenty minutes to allow the night procedures to bed in. Danny and Brian were surprised that lights-out showed no sign of occurring.

"They're never switched off," said Alexei.

"You don't mean to say you've been here!" said Danny.

"No, but I've heard about it from boys who have."

"Then you must have heard some useful things."

"There are stories about history, but no-one I knew had anything to tell. They were too frightened of the Dungeon to do anything 'cept keep their heads down. Everyone gets an hour in the Dungeon when they arrive."

"Are there cameras?"

"They didn't say."

"What happens at night?"

"They didn't say, 'cept they had to get up at six-thirty and parade at six-forty and one second late meant you missed breakfast—oh, and the guards wear rubber shoes."

"Thought you were gonna say rubber johnnies," smiled Brian.

"Oh, yeah: any sex?" asked Danny.

"They didn't say."

"They wouldn't! Bastards!" said Brian and suddenly, clasping Danny tightly, he kissed him strongly.

Danny had been careful to avoid being too physical with Brian as he respected Alexei's sensibilities, but he knew that Brian's fierce movement had been driven by an equally fierce compassion for the boys whose first loves were being denied. He clutched Brian with equal fervour.

Still holding Brian, Danny turned to Alexei: "Anything else?"

"Can't think of anything," said Alexei.

"What about the layout of the—" Danny began, but was interrupted by the unmistakeable CRACK of an inexpert Apparition.

Immediately, Danny invoked the protective charms of his Amulet and reinforced his Disillusionment.

"Hold on to me tightly!" he whispered and the lads went into a three-way embrace.

There were four more CRACKS and Danny, looking through the window, saw five men, with wands drawn, who formed themselves into a circle, prepared for attack from any direction.

He was glad of the noise: it indicated poor Apparators, and Danny knew that powerful wizards are always good at Apparition. He also sensed only weak Disillusionment—Muggle strength. Good enough, as was demonstrated when there was the clang of keys and two uniformed prison officers emerged from the residential block. They looked around and decided there was nothing to worry about.

"Musta come from the street," Danny heard one of them say as they went back inside.

The men with the wands visibly relaxed. There were four uniformed and one plain-clothes man who was the leader.

"Looks like nothing, Boss," said one of the uniformed militiamen.

"Whatta we do, search the place?" said another.

"I don't know," said the leader, "If we do, there'll be back-up obliviation, and if it's all for nothing . . ."

"You said it was Gully," said the first man, "It could still have been him last night and tonight's was a residual."

"Yes," said the leader, clearly relieved, "That could be true: it was only a small reading tonight. Though I'm still baffled what he'd be doing here."

"They said he had three small boys with him when he was picked up," said number two.

"Nephew and schoolfriends supposedly," said the boss, "I can't believe that, at his age, Gully's taken up botty-boring and, anyway, the Muggles haven't reported anyone escaping, so they weren't escaped prisoners."

A third militiaman piped up: "I reckon it was just Emotional Magic coming from the prisoners. They say Dormant wizards can do some real nasties."

"They soon lose the power, thank Heaven," said the leader, "And that's a good suggestion, Ivan Ivanovich; we'll run with that if we can't get anything out of Gully. Come on: back to HQ."

The five men Disapparated with plenty of noise, but Danny was quite impressed: the Wizard Militia had shown sensitive detection of illegal spells and good intelligence in homing in on Gully—he was annoyed at Gully, though: it could only have been sheer laziness that had left his spells so detectable.

When it was clear that there was no immediate danger, Danny had relaxed—all but one part of him which had stiffened in response to the proximity of the two other boys.

Now that the militiamen had left, he became aware that, despite the thickness of the overalls, he could feel two more lumps against his hips. He expected no less from Brian but was pleased that Alexei had been stirred into an erection by contact with two other boys; and pleased that Alexei didn't seem bothered: he must be coming to terms with the concept that boy-with-boy was at least acceptable. He'd come a long way in one day.

They waited a few minutes to allow the prison officers to de-spook. A naughty thought came into Danny's mind: there was enough time to put the three stiffies to good use. He dismissed the thought for obvious reasons, but the image caused a little stickiness to seep from the end of his willy.

X X X

Danny strengthened his Disillusionment Charm and led the boys towards the entrance.

He was all a-tingle for two reasons: he was engaged in advance magic in a good cause and he was entering the domain of four hundred and twenty boys.

Hogwarts had fewer boys and their wonder was diluted by the presence of girls; but here, there was such a concentration of raw, wild, male adolescence that Danny was weak-kneed with happiness.

For a moment he envisaged repeated visits to Podolsk to provide gay sex-education, but quickly recognized the thought as the fantasy it was.

First things first: there were no security cameras outside, which did not mean that there were none inside. He instructed Brian and Alexei to watch out for them everywhere they went.

Entry was via two doors, the outer solid metal and the inner made up of bars. They opened easily to his wand and he locked them behind him in case of a return visit by the Wizard Militia.

In front of them was a double set of barred doors helpfully inscribed: KITCHEN.

On either side of them were further double sets of doors leading to long, narrow corridors with the prisoners' dormitories leading off them.

Danny noted that the doors of the prisoners' rooms were solid so that the prisoners could not see out. Officers could see in by unlatching and raising a flap. There was a second, smaller flap on each door, situated by its lock. Danny deduced that there was an inner door and the flap was to allow an officer access to its lock, which he would need when he had to extract one prisoner without exposing himself to attack by the other nine.

By the entrance to each wing, a glass-fronted room was obviously the office from which the day-staff controlled operations.

There was a stairway to the left of the kitchen and Danny, guessing that the main office was directly above, led the boys towards it, but they froze when Brian whispered: "Someone's coming!"

There were, indeed, sounds of soft footsteps coming from the wing to the left.

They looked through the bars and saw an officer emerge from a stairway next to the gate.

He immediately turned right and lifted the observation flap of the first cell. Having spent ten seconds peering in he proceeded to the next cell—silently: Alexei had been right about the rubber shoes.

He had not reached the third cell when Danny laid a Confundus on him: You're tired: just a quick nap on the office floor.

The officer obeyed Danny's suggestion and unlocked the office.

Danny unlocked the gate and found the officer stretched out on his back. Dormis! he called and the man was immediately asleep.

They put a cushion under his head and moved him onto his side.

"We might as well check the cell layout while we're here—Oh!"

The observation flaps were too high for the boys, but Danny said to Brian: "go on, then: do the honours."

Brian took out his wand and waved a block of wood into existence.

"Shot, Bri!" said Danny as he stepped on the block and opened the flap, which was quiet in operation: the authorities obviously didn't want to let the prisoners know when they were being watched.

The ten beds were arranged five-a-side. They were narrow—about thirty inches—and each comprised an iron frame and a thin, stained mattress. The prisoners were each provided with two blankets, which was quite generous as there was an efficient heating system.

Between the beds were tall, thin wardrobes for their belongings.

Pride of place, however, was given to an old-fashioned w.c. which stood at the far end of the cell between two heavily-barred windows. There was no seat and no sign of any toilet paper.

Most of the boys were sleeping with their heads covered by blankets—not because of cold, but because of the bright lights that shone from the ceiling. Here and there, Danny could see flashes of rough, dun-coloured pyjamas: presumably, tidy stowing of day-clothes was required in this prison.

When he thought of the cosy, friendly dormitories of Hogwarts, Danny felt compassion for these boys: whatever their crimes—and Danny had no illusions about the nastiness of some humans—nobody deserved to live like this.

One thing in common with Hogwarts was the smell of teenage boys living together—mature teenage boys, in Danny's judgement. To armpit and foot odour was added the sort of sausagey smell that he had noticed at Hogwarts and, underlying the rest, the smell of minimally-washed clothes and bodies that he had picked up from rent boys in England.

Taking one last sniff, he yielded his place to Brian who put Danny's feelings into words: "Sexy, but sad."

Alexei took over.

"Can you see him?" asked Danny, without much hope.

"No, but I think these are all big boys."

"They probably keep the littl'uns on the other side," said Brian.

"Yes, keep the wolves from the lambs," said Alexei.

"The shepherd's there now," said Brian, and they saw that the ground floor of the presumed babies' wing was being checked by a second officer.

From the gate of the senior wing, Danny Confunded the second officer and made him comfortable in the wing office.

"Twenty-one cells to check," said Brian.

"We'd better see to the other two guards first," said Danny and led his friends, with Disillusionment reinforced, up the stairway by the kitchen.

As expected, the two off-duty guards were situated on the second floor. They were engaged in a game of chess whose completion would be delayed as Danny brought sleep to the two players.

With the wing clear, they could begin the hunt.

They started on the second floor as they happened to be there.

Danny removed the Disillusionment Charm from Alexei.

Brian magicked up a box and Alexei opened the flap of the first cell and called out: "Pyotr Davidovich!"

There was no response.

Alexei turned to Danny, who he now couldn't see, and said dispiritedly: "He could be there and fast asleep."

Danny removed all Disillusionment and said: "Call again. Be as loud as you like."

Alexei called several times and eventually a sleepy voice said: "What's happening?"

"I'm looking for Pyotr Davidovich Kalinov," said Alexei.

"Not here."

"Do you know which cell he's in?"

"Never heard of him."

Alexei turned and said to Danny: "What do we do? He could be lying."

"Maybe he is and maybe he's just defending his friend who is lying asleep in the same room. What we'll have to do is go in each cell and pull the blankets down until we find him."

"What if they take us prisoner?"

"They won't; and if they try, me and Brian can deal with them."

"Er . . . won't there be a list in the office?" asked Brian.

"Oh bloody hell, Bri!" laughed Danny, "Why do you have to bring common sense into it?"

The three boys, immensely cheered that the laborious task of searching twenty-one—or even forty-two—cells had been averted, trooped to the main office.

There was a large frame with slots for about a thousand cards. The four hundred or so cards that were present appeared to be haphazard but were quickly seen to be in alphabetical order of surname.

They soon found Alexei's brother. His card was notated with a few entries crossed out and a current entry: 3Ю.2.7.

They had no difficulty in interpreting this as: Third Floor, Juniors, Cell 2, Bed 7.

Elated, they leapt the stairs to the third floor.

"Let's just see what's here," said Danny, unlocking the central room; but it was just a store-room for the paraphernalia needed to run a prison.

Then came the magic moment: Danny unlocked the gates to the cells. They guessed that numbering started at the side with five cells, rather than the side with two and stopped outside the second cell on the right.

Danny had his wand ready to unlock the door when he paused and whispered: "Brian, do you feel something?"

Brian stood still for a moment, then whispered: "No. Should I?"

"Stand still and think of what's inside the cell."

Brian stood for a long time. Then he said: "There is something . . . could it be the echo of a Confundus?"

"That's just what I thought. A very mild Confundus. It looks like your brother is a wizard, Alyosha."

Danny put a Disillusionment Charm on the flap and then the full works on himself and his two friends.

Brian created the wooden block and Danny stepped up, lifted up the flap and found himself eye-to-eye with a boy who had the most orange hair Danny had ever seen—brighter than Weasley hair; brighter even than Simon Hibbard's, who Danny had occasionally regretted missing out on in his Hogwarts days.

Orange-head was leaning on his right elbow looking hard at Danny but evidently seeing merely a closed flap. After some seconds, he relaxed and lay down to sleep. Then he had second thoughts and sat up looking at the bed on his left.

He got out of bed showing that he was wearing singlet and underpants. He lowered his pants, pulled back the blankets from his neighbour and shook his shoulder.

Danny would have placed the new boy as Alexei's brother by the colour of his hair alone: the same lank quality; the same brilliant cadmium.

Danny was surprised that prisoners were allowed to grow their hair. Then he remembered noticing a barber-shop in the Education Building: Prisoners probably had the opportunity of training as barbers—or more likely, prison officers got free haircuts and the newly-qualified barbers were conscripted into the armed forces on release, like everyone else.

When Orange-head had pulled down his pants, Danny had had a tantalising glimpse of a semi-stiff willy and a bright orange bush.

Pyotr, if it was him, clearly welcomed being woken up by his neighbour: he smiled happily and turned face-down and stretched-out on the bed.

The neighbour was probably that same Chaikovsky who had so irritated Gully. Danny mentally kicked himself again: he should have checked Chaikovsky's location.

If any further confirmation were needed, and assuming beds, like cells, were numbered anticlockwise, one thing was definite: Number Eight was now going at Number Seven like a pneumatic drill.

"Oh!" said Danny.

"What is it?" asked Brian.

"Engorgio!" said Danny, enlarging the block and drawing the other two up.

The three heads pushed together looking through the flap.

"Oh!" said Alexei, though in a different tone from Danny's.

"Nice bum!" said Brian.

It was indeed a nice bum, thought Danny: milky-white, small, firm, individual. Danny's erection, which had sprung up as soon as he saw Orange-head looking at him, was straining hard against his pants as he saw that bum resolutely bouncing up and down.

There was to be no quick diversion: Orange-head had started at a steady rhythm and showed no sign of stopping. It was quite a few minutes before his stroke-rate quickened and he showed signs of a coming orgasm.

That was enough for Danny: he felt the familiar watery feeling in his loins and spurt after spurt of his milk was releasing itself into his pants. It was just as it had been with Cousin Mark: a full orgasm achieved without physical intervention.

"Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Oh! . . ." he gasped.

Brian, recognizing the situation, smiled and squeezed Danny's buttocks, but Alexei was probably oblivious to everything except the fact that his brother was being bummed by a stranger.

Orange-head lay panting for a few seconds, then withdrew his penis, which caused a squelchy, farty sound. Then he hopped over onto his own bed and lay face-down looking at Pyotr.

"Bank," smiled Pyotr, and both boys pulled up their pants and got back under the blankets.

"Time for a sharp entrance!" said Danny, removing the Disillusionments and unlocking the door and the inner barred gate.

"Off you go, Al!" he said, pushing Alexei in first.

The two lovers had sat up and gaped as the cell was opened.

Then Pyotr saw his brother entering and a huge gasp of joy exploded: "Alyosha!"

But his smile immediately vanished.

"Oh Alyosha, they've got you! How long did you get?"

"I'm not a prisoner," said Alexei, "I've come here to rescue you and your friend Chaikovsky, though why I should bother with a pair of queers I don't know."

"It's not like that—" began Pyotr.

"No time for that crap now," interrupted Danny, "You wouldn't come with our friend on Sunday or Monday so we brought your brother to show you it's safe."

"Why should I trust you? You might be forcing Alyosha—"

"Oh shut up!" shouted Alexei, "Danny saved my life. Roman would have killed me! And I told him my only wish was to have you with me. And it still is—even if we have to take your dildo with us!"

Brian muttered to Danny, in English: "If Ginger can do that mild Confund without a wand, he must be a powerful wiz."

"You're right," said Danny, "So maybe it's a wiz he's afraid off on the out."

"Off course," said Chaikovsky in the most immaculate English, "And so I repeat what my friend said: Why should I trust you?"

"Because we are the new friends of the beloved brother of your lover."

Chaikovsky thought for a while, looking closely at Danny. Then he said: "You talk of Love. In here nobody dares talk of Love, but my friend refused to escape without me and that shouts of Love more than words. I begged him to go. If I'd had a wand, I'd have made him go, but he loved me too much. Can you keep us safe?"

"You will be safe, and if you don't come at once, I'll get my wand out and give you the biggest Confundus—no, Imperius—that there's ever been."

Chaikovsky smiled: "Do you know that Pyotr, has wizard-potential? I guess his brother has, too. Is that why you rescued him from Roman?"

"It's what drew our attention to him, but we would have rescued him anyway."

"I trust you," said Chaikovsky; then, in Russian, to Pyotr: "Get dressed. Pack. We're leaving."

He turned back to Danny: "There's a slight complication," he said in English.

"Please, please, let it be slight!" laughed Danny, his eyes noting the stain on the back of Pyotr's underpants.

"On the Ones, there are twins; only twelve but the biggest potential. The man who's chasing me has his eye on them, so we ought to take them with us."

"Yes," said Danny, "Now move!" he added in Russian.

The shouts and foreign sounds had awoken three or four of the other occupants of the cell.

"What's happening?" said one.

"We're leaving," said Pyotr, fully-dressed and stuffing his spare clothes into a kitbag.

"Take us with you,"

"We'll leave the door unlocked," said Danny, and there was a general awakening and dressing.

At last his two targets were ready.

They hurried down two floors and Chaikovsky pointed out the twins' cell. Danny unlocked the door and Chaikovsky ran in and shook two boys' shoulders calling: "Tishchenko! Tishchenko!"

"All fall down!" said Brian, doubling Danny up with laughter.

The Tishchenko twins were tiny, black-haired boys, who looked as though they had Tartar blood. They lost no time in getting dressed and even less time in packing as they had nothing to pack.

"Right!" said Danny "Let's get outside and hope Gully's carpet can carry seven!"

"We can't release some and not all," said Brian.

Danny stopped and thought.

"You're right; though some might be better off inside and some might be dangerous outside, let's give them a chance."

They left the other five hiding in the kitchen and set off up the staff stairway to unlock everyone.

They were approaching the top when they saw someone looking through the prisoner-cards just as they had half an hour previously.

Danny quickly called Safe! and Abscondo! and the two boys stood four steps from the top watching.

The man was old and bald, with a dyspeptic complexion. He had large spectacles and he carried a wand.

As the boys watched, the man found what he was looking for and turned to leave the office. He was facing them directly but didn't appear to notice them.

He looked bland enough, but you never could tell.

Danny's doubts were dispelled when the man turned into the junior wing and went straight to Cell 2.

One or more boys must have been hesitant to leave the prison—lots of them must have had nowhere to run to.

The man shouted: "Where's Chaikovsky?"

One thing that even the youngest criminals learn is to try and confuse their questioners. The unknown boy came up with the perfect response: in the voice of a halfwit he mumbled: "Wrong cell."

This might have meant that Pyotr had never lived in that cell; or it might have meant that Pyotr was simply not there, which latter interpretation might help the boy evade the punishment cells if he were ever called to account.

The man looked into the cell, obviously debating further questions. Then, suddenly, he turned away and walked to investigate other cells, thinking, no doubt, that there might be a different numbering system.

The man was a baddie and Danny knew that, when dealing with baddies, chivalry does not come into things.

Concentrating hard, he unleashed the most powerful Stupefy! He could manage at the mid-point of the man's spine.

Almost at the same time, it seemed, the man did a Protego! and the spell bounced straight back towards Danny. Then it bounced onto Brian, who, not being protected by Danny's Safe! slumped to the ground and became visible to the man.

"So," he said, as he walked towards Brian, "Who is this infant who can cast such a powerful Stupefy! ?"

Danny had to think quickly. The baddie was a powerful wizard in defence. He needed a diversion—multiple diversions.

He moved behind the man and invoked his Patronus, sending it to the far end of the cellblock.

Kalinov is in Cell Two said the Patronus in a woman's voice: Danny felt instinctively that the man would worry less about a witch then a wizard.

The man looked at the silvery monkey in amazement, but took the bait and walked towards the presumed Cell Two.

Accio! Wand! Danny called and Brian's wand was in his left hand.

Propello! There! Point at His Heart! he called, and the wand flew down the cellblock and hovered in mid-air pointing at the man.

Danny aimed his own wand at Brian's wand and let fly another Stupefy!

This is difficult magic, and only possible when the owners of the two wands loved each other wholeheartedly.

Danny and Brian had practised doing this for fun, it being a visible proof of their love for each other. Now, even though Brian was unconscious, their love should help Danny fight a Dark Wizard.

And it did work. The Stupefy! flew from one wand to the other and thence straight towards the man who had to invoke strong protection.

Danny fired a string of Stupefy!'s varied with the occasional Expelliarmus!—Harry Potter's favourite.

While the man was protecting himself, and cursing all sorts of Dark Spells, which, being anti-personnel spells, had no effect on Brian's wand, Danny thought quickly.

He was worried that Brian might be hit by a reflected Death Curse, so put the strongest protection on Brian that he could and made a run for the man.

He physically grabbed the man's wand and, with his own wand, called a final Stupefy! to which the man succumbed, slumping senseless to the ground.

He ran back to Brian and aimed his wand: Rennervate!

Brian stirred and opened his eyes, thank Heavens.

"Why am I lying down?"

"You were Stunned, but it's alright: he's stunned now and I've got his wand . . . which reminds me . . . Accio! Wand! . . . Here you are, boyfriend!"

"My wand. . . ."

"I used it for Transfer Spells. It worked."

"Against him?"

"Yeah; that unpleasant old man is living evidence of our love."

"Oh, Danny!"

Brian got to his feet and they kissed and cuddled.

"Come on, we've got a Carpet to ride."

"What about unlocking all the prisoners?"

Danny laughed: "In the bliss of being with you I nearly forgot: he can do it."

Brian laughed too: "Brilliant! With the Muggle keys . . ."

". . . and when the Muggles come to sort out the mess . . ."

". . . there he is with the keys in his pocket and his fingerprints all over the place."

Danny wandered over to the man, gave him the Rennervate! and performed the necessary Confundus.

As the man walked into the main office to relieve one of the sleeping officers of his keys, Danny and Brian chortled their way downstairs.

As they reached the next floor, they could hear him following: Danny had made him want to start on the Ones.

They got to the kitchen and Danny called: "Right, lads! We're off to the Hotel Ukraina!"

As they walked out of the kitchen, Danny pointed to the left and said: "Chaikovsky, can you confirm that he's the man you've been hiding from?"

Chaikovsky looked to the left and screamed: "You bastard! You betrayed us all!"

He aimed a punch at Danny but was stopped by Brian's Bodybind Curse.

"Is that the man?" asked Danny.

"You know bloody well it is!"

"I do now you've told me. Don't worry I've got his wand and he's well-Confunded."

"You've got Special K's wand? You Confunded Special K? Don't talk drivel!"

"So why do you think he's unlocking every door in the prison?"

"Sorry, I just can't believe it. You? A little squit like you beat Special K?"

"Me and Brian did. Now are you going to come quietly, or do we have to Levitate you?"

"Sorry; yes, let's go. How do we get to Moscow?"

Brian removed the Bodybind as Danny said: "With this handkerchief."

"You're mad!" laughed Chaikovsky.

He laughed even more when Gully's hankie was revealed in all its glory: "A Magic Carpet? You must be joking! No-one uses Magic Carpets anymore. They're slow, unreliable and illegal."

"This one got us here," said Danny, "And it should get us back, We're only small. Oh, one last thing . . ."

He aimed a Destrudo! and a large section of the prison fence collapsed. There were cheers and a number of the boys who had emerged from the cell-building made a run for it.

Danny's new friends needed some assurances about safety, but eventually settled on board. It was not too bad a squeeze but they all huddled together.

When they were airborne and sailing northward, Chaikovsky said: "Now, Danny and Brian—good Bodybind, by the way, Brian—tell us what's it's all about. You've rescued us. What's going to happen to us? Where are we going after the Hotel Ukraina? What are two English wizard-boys doing in Russia? Where does Special K come in? Who's that man who came before?"

"We'll talk about all that later. First I want to talk about the most important things in the world: Friendship, Love and Sex—Gay Sex, to be precise.

"First off, you should all know that Brian and I are lovers and in two years time we're going to be married."

"Married!" said Chaikovsky, "Boys can't marry each other!"

"They can in some countries and, when Brian hits fifteen, we're off to Denmark."

Chaikovsky looked a bit dubious so Danny continued: "Secondly, Chaikovsky and Pyotr have sex together and Alyosha, I found your reaction to that very disappointing."

Alexei looked defiant: "What do you expect when I see my elder brother, who should be setting an example, taking the woman's part?"

Both Chaikovsky and Pyotr laughed and Danny said: "Gay sex is nothing to do with women, Alyosha. Gay sex is doing what both boys agree that they want to do. Some men like it one way; some another; some like both. We're only boys so we're more versatile than men. Lots of boys like gay sex and grow up as heteros. Brian and I grew up knowing we were gay forever at a very young age. So just follow your heart."

"And your penis," muttered Brian, to renewed laughter.

"Yes Sex is good," said Danny, "But Love is more important than Sex."

Pyotr had his arm round his brother. He said: "For your information, little brother, when Nick and I took to each other we agreed to go fifty-fifty, but as I can't shoot small-life yet, I'm saving some up."

"Is that why you called Bank?" asked Danny and the two boys nodded.

"Danny shoot small-life in coward," said Brian.

They all laughed and corrected Brian's Russian—underpants is trusy and coward is trus.

"It's true," said Danny, "The sight of Chaikovsky's—sorry Nick is it?—bottom pounding away and the thought of his willy rubbing Pyotr's bumhole made me extravagantly cream myself."

"I think it's quite exciting the thought of being watched," said Nick.

"So do I," said Pyotr, "You should have showed yourselves."

"And you've never been watched before," said Danny, "I congratulate you Nick on your Confundus without a wand."

"It's not a very strong Confundus: I mean it's just strong enough to cause people in the dorm to stay asleep; or not notice if we go in a toilet-cubicle together."

"You have sex in a toilet-cubicle!" said Alexei.

"Oh, Alyosha, dearest baby-brother, I'm so grateful: you got me and Nick out of that shithole. Don't spoil it by being disgusted at me."

"Sorry, again. We're our only family. I wouldn't spoil that for anything."

The brothers embraced, though each made sure that it was a chaste, manly embrace. They remained pressed together for the rest of the flight, each with an arm around his brother's shoulder.

Nick turned back to Danny: "Another thing about this Confundus: I'm not sure it was me doing it: I think it was, sort of, Pyotr and me doing it together."

Danny and Brian made eye-contact. This was something new and exciting for them to try.

Danny said: "Anyway, never mind how you managed it; what's the score?"

Nick laughed: "four-zero-six plays one-five-five."

Alexei goggled: "You've been shagged four hundred and six times? You've only been inside for six months."

Pyotr smiled: "Well, every night and most mornings is a good start; then there's in the wing toilets, the workshop toilets, the gym toilets, the carpentry shop, the motor shop, the stores, the sick-room . . ."

"Don't forget the kitchen," said Nick.

"That was a good one," said Pyotr, "We'd been trying for ages to be the ones to take the trolley from the kitchen into the lift. Then when it was our turn, we waited in the kitchen and I stood by the trolley and Nick came up behind me and pulled down my pants and stuck it in and the under-chef was talking to me all the time about the importance of food-thermometers and I was coming and coming and thought I was going to scream and—"

"I thought you said you couldn't shoot yet," said Alexei.

"I never said I couldn't come. Have you tried rubbing your willy, Alyosha? It's an unbelievable feeling."

Alexei kept quiet: he'd seen lots of boys doing it, but never saw the reason. Then this morning he had had that feeling. . . . And through the day

Pyotr laughed: "Alyosha, Dear, if you're still bothered about your brother getting bummed, by the time I get to cash in my two-five-one pokes, I might have a fat twelve-incher and family honour would be satisfied."

Danny spoke to the two youngest members of the crew: " Well twins. I see you're still awake. Tell us your names and tell us what you think about it all."

"Tishchenko, Boris Yurevich."

"Tishchenko, Pavel Yurevich."

"We don't really know anything about gay," said Boris.

"We were frightened of being raped . . ." said Pavel.

". . . But they kept us away from the big boys . . ."

". . . And . . ."

The boys were silent.

"Let me guess," said Danny, "Things happened when you were under threat."

The boys nodded; then Boris asked: "Do you think we're wizards?"

Nick intervened: "Of course you are! I've had five years wizard-training and I should know."

But the boys looked at Danny. He was the one who they had seen doing real magic. He should know.

"Nick's judgement is good enough for me," he said.

The Carpet gained a bit of height to clear some tall buildings.

"Five minutes and we're there," said Danny.

The twins were whispering together.

"Danny and Brian?" said Boris.

"You know you're getting married?" said Pavel.

"Can two men make children?" asked Boris.

"Sadly, no," said Danny.

"And some children would like two men as parents," said Pavel.

"Can we be your children, then?" asked Boris.

"But you're nearly as old as us," said Danny.

"Probably older than me," said Brian, "When's your birthday?"

"Twenty-Sixth of November," said Pavel.

"Twenty-Sixth of November, Nineteen Eighty-Three?"

"Yes," said Boris.

"Same day as me," said Brian and looked at Danny.

"Have you no mother and father?" asked Danny.

The twins shook their heads.

"Then you are now our children," said Brian.

Something had altered. They all looked up.

Perhaps it was the cloud that was passing the moon. Perhaps it was a feeling that something immense in the history of wizardkind had just happened.

The Carpet came to a halt beside a lighted window.

Danny leaned and tapped on the window.

His mother opened it: "Hello, dear. All OK?"

"Gully got arrested in Uli Volsheb. We had to do it ourselves."

"All five here, then?"

"Seven, actually."

"My word! Come in, boys."

They crawled through the window and Danny reduced the Carpet.

"Hello, boys, I'm Danny's mum. Are they permanent Daniel?"

"Yes, Mum."

"I'll send an owl to Yorosk tomorrow. Meanwhile, I know what boys need."

She walked to the Muggle telephone and picked it up.

"Hello, Room Service?"

— CHAPTER ELEVEN — Colin and the Golden Glow

Colin woke up on Wednesday morning feeling a bit guilty.

He hadn't actually raped Seamus, but he and Dennis had pressured him rather strongly; and he had taken Seamus's anal virginity.

On the other hand, Seamus had eventually got to enjoy things: his squeals of pain had turned to squeals of pleasure and he had shot hard into Dennis's mouth; and sucked Dennis's penis hard, too.

Come to think of it, last night had probably been Seamus's first sixty-nine, too.

And everything, including Seamus's repeated protestations of I'm not gay, was covered up by Seamus's own Irish concealment charm.

It was nearly time to get up.

He shifted down the bed and sucked one of Dennis's nipples.

He could smell Seamus. The smell would be on both of them. Anyone with a good nose would know what had been going on, even though they had repeatedly agreed to Seamus's other protestations of Don't tell anyone.

Danny would have picked up the smell from six feet. But Danny would probably have been involved and smothered in Seamus-scent himself.

He moved to his brother's other nipple.

Dennis stirred and said: "Is it time to get up?"

" 'Fraid so, Den."

"That was good with Seamus. But, Col, last night I dreamt I was doing Mandy. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course I don't mind, and I don't suppose Mandy would mind, either."

"Only it seems a bit cheeky, lying in your arms and dreaming of her."

"It's not cheeky. I've told you before: I'll spend the rest of my life being ever so proud of my straight brother."

"Danny said you can have parallel loves."

"Morning, Boys!"

Sea Jay had stuck his head between the curtains of Colin's bed.

"Morning, Sea Jay!"

"Morning, Sea Jay!"

"You must have got in late; I got up for a pee at one o'clock and you weren't in. Who was the lucky boy?"

"Lucky girl, actually," laughed Colin, "I've finished McGonagall's essay."

"It wasn't Seamus then," smiled Sea Jay, "Everyone in the school knows you snogged him on Monday."

"Time to get up!" said Dennis and they began to dress.

X X X

The four of them went down to breakfast together. Progress was slow, but Jonathan and Sea Jay were getting better at three-legged walking and only fell down once.

As they entered the Great Hall, a Ravenclaw seventh-year who Colin had scarcely ever noticed beamed at him: "Alright Colin?"

"Er . . . Alright?"

At the Gryffindor table, Katie Bell and Lavender Brown wished him a good morning, which they didn't normally do.

A little second year girl was looking at him worshipfully.

"Why is everyone noticing me, Den?" he asked his brother as they sat down, "Is it sympathy because of you and Mandy?"

"I think it's you, Col; and I admire their taste."

Colin was still bemused, but not put off his bacon and eggs.

Half way through breakfast, the owls came and Colin had four.

Three letters were in girly handwriting and the fourth apparently from a child.

"Another birthday, Colin?" called Harry, "Fifth-year. You've got your O.W.L.'s this term, then."

Colin opened the first letter. It was from a girl—and an unexpected one—inviting him to meet her.

He showed it to Dennis.

"What should I do, Den?"

"Danny simply ignored girls. Just rip it up—or better still, explode it publicly."

"I'm not sure my spellwork's up to it. I don't want to mess up everyone's breakfast. Fred and George would have done it for me."

"Let's see if Ron can do it!"

Dennis scampered over to Ron, explained the mission and challenged him.

Ron, because of his disastrous Keeping, was keen to succeed at something—and to live up to his brothers. Besides, he had a warm heart and sympathy for underdogs—within which category he included those unfortunate enough to be inflicted with gayness.

Colin scrunched the letter into a ball and tossed it in the air.

Ron successfully Vanished it leaving a set of bright stars which spelled out: NO THANKS!

There was much cheering, and Hermione said: "Oh, well done, Ron!"

A second letter was treated similarly but an expected third letter was not forthcoming, which was just as well because Umbridge, sitting at the staff table, had called for a halt and gone unheard through the cheers. As it turned out, she could assume that Ron and Colin had immediately obeyed.

The third letter had been saved at the last minute when Colin saw the signature.

He passed it to Dennis who read:

Dear Colin,

Can I please be your Girlfriend? I really like you. You are so handsome and stylish. Not like these flashy boys who just run after anything in a skirt. I promise to be faithful and look after you properly. I will get a really nice dress and we can go to the Quidditch together and we will be the most beautiful couple there and I won't mind if Ravenclaw lose because you will be happy. I will do Anything to make you happy.

With love from

Tintin.

"Wow!" said Dennis, "He's different isn't he? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know"

"Who's the fourth letter from?"

Colin opened it and read.

Dear Colin,

I love you. I've loved you since the Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor and I saw you clapping me when I walked to your table. I've spent all my time at Hogwarts looking at you when I can and thinking of you all the rest of the time, even at Jigs when your friend Danny and the other boys were making me feel it was OK to be Gay, even at the Christmas Party when it was all so exciting.

You have always been the most beautiful boy in the world but this term you've come back with a sort of aura as if you were a God sent down to Earth to show Mortals what Heaven is like. And now Danny has left and your brother is interested in girls I hope you want a new friend and I promise I won't leave and I won't get interested in girls.

I have always wanted an older boy who would love me and protect me and care for me and take an interest in me. Please will you be that boy? I want to kiss you so much and feel your arms round me. I have never been in love with anyone except you and I never will be. Please say you will be my friend and might get to love me and I would be so happy.

Sometimes I feel that Fate means us to have a Great Romance and sometimes I feel I'm being silly. But I love Nature and Humanity and I know there is nothing so beautiful and kind as you. You are the biggest thing in my life. I could face anything if you were with me. And if you taught me to be as caring and noble spirited as yourself I would be so proud.

I've spent months without the courage to tell you and then that Russian boy arrived and told you straight off how beautiful you are and I thought I'm in Gryffindor and I'm meant to be brave so I wrote this. And nobody knows. They think I am working on an essay.

I'm sorry I can't find the words. My feelings for you are so strong there aren't any words. I used to be frightened of the world but you have changed the world. Please be my friend.

I have never had ANY sex so I've got a really tight arsehole.

I love you, I've always loved you, I always will love you,

Alexander Bell XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alexander Bell was a first-year; quiet and hard-working; a follower, not a leader. He was quite tall now, having grown about four inches in the eight months since his arrival at Hogwarts. A shock of wiry blond hair above a long, thoughtful face. Colin found him attractive enough: for a gay boy Colin was unusually casual about people's looks. It was the person inside that attracted him. He had a high sex drive—he'd been rogering Dennis for six years—but, unlike Danny, he didn't feel the need to have a physical relationship with every boy in the world.

He'd smiled at Alexander just as he'd smiled at all the other first years, but he'd never imagined such a tempest of passions concealed by Alexander's polite return smiles.

Now he was mortified: Alexander probably thought that NO THANKS! had been aimed at him.

Colin wasn't bothered about dismissing the girls: everyone knew that he was gay, so the girls were just being foolish; but he wasn't going to play with any boy's emotions.

He looked down the table, intending to wave the letter, but Alexander was not looking at him: he was staring down at his empty plate.

Colin couldn't stand it.

He got up and walked to Alexander. He put an arm on his shoulder and said: "Cheer up, Alexander! You look really miserable. Are you in trouble?"

Alexander looked up at him: "N-no, I was just thinking."

"Good man!"

Colin went back to his seat, letting Alexander recognize his letter, which was clutched in Colin's hand.

On the way he also flashed Tintin's letter and Tintin waved cheerfully. It looked as though Tintin's other hand was resting on Eddie Carmichael's knee. Eddie was a great girl-fancier and it looked as though he was prepared to accept Tintin as a sort of honorary girl.

Dennis said: "What was that?"

Colin handed him the letter.

Dennis read it and shook his hands as though they had been burned.

"Hot stuff, Col! But it's the real thing isn't it? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know; friendship at least."

"Danny would just have taken him to a lavvy cubicle, but you're not like that, are you?"

"Perhaps I'll have to change."

"We'll sort it out together, Col."

The brothers had a kiss and cuddle—quick because it was time to leave.

On the way out, Yuri came up to him and gave him an envelope, saying: "Some negatives to look at."

He put the envelope in his pocket and found time during Arithmancy to look at the contents.

There were indeed negatives of last night's photo-session there was also a note:

Esteemed and Beautiful Colin Creevey.

Hello!

I am sorry that I may have misunderstood the manner in which English Boys behave and may have embarrassed you last night.

Please accept my apologies and please understand that the Dark Russian Soul requires a Friend—a Friend with whom to discuss the whole Universe with.

I would dearly love and be honoured for you to be my Friend.

Please say you will and make me a proud boy.

I kiss you.

Yuri Ilich Prokofiev

Colin had a suspicion that discussing the universe would include cock-fun, but he had to admire Yuri's style; and, having spent plenty of time with Danny, a lot of it in Russia, he knew that the Dark Russian Soul was not a fiction.

Professor Vector was kind-hearted enough to let them out a bit early. She knew that few wizards or witches could concentrate through a double-Arithmancy.

So, albeit mentally burdened with Professor Vector's huge homework addition, Colin was on the lawn, with a glass of milk sharp at half past ten.

Hagrid had obviously released the fifth-years early for Colin saw Harry and his friends chatting away.

Seamus Finnigan passed him on the way to join the group and Colin felt a note pressed into his hand.

Without making it obvious, he waited a few moments and read:

I'm not gay, but would you like to be my secret boyfriend?

Just you, not Dennis.

S.

Colin's head was spinning and he looked around for his brother who should be coming from the greenhouses.

As he was waiting, two Hufflepuff first-years came up to him.

"Hello; you're Jiggers aren't you?" he said, smiling cheerfully as ever.

"Yeah, I'm Lee Shepherd."

"And I'm James Buckley."

"Pleased to meet you," said Colin, shaking hands with the two little boys.

"We're boyfriends," said Lee, "Brought together by Danny, and missing him."

"Aren't we all?" said Colin, noticing Lee's beautiful green eyes.

"Yeah," continued James, "You more than most 'cos you're his adopted brother too, aren't you?"

"Yeah," said Colin.

"Well, when Danny was here we wanted him to be our mentor—"

"Alright Colin?"

It was the Ravenclaw seventh-year who had greeted him that morning.

"Hello," said Colin.

"Fancy a little walk?"

"Can't. I've got things to do."

"Some other time, then."

"Yeah; see yer."

Colin turned back to the two Jiggers.

"Please go on, James; you were saying Danny was your mentor."

"No, we wanted him to be our mentor, but he wouldn't because he was Head-Jigger and he couldn't have favourites. But you're nothing official so you could be our mentor."

"What do you mean mentor?"

"Well, a bit more than mentor . . . sort of personal trainer."

Colin laughed: "Training for what, James."

James laughed too: "I don't know what the training's for, but the exercises include putting your penis inside us."

James's eyes were a dark brown and they sparkled as he laughed.

These were two very attractive boys. Colin thought how pleasant it would be to snuggle up with them.

He was saved from having given an immediate response by the arrival of Dennis.

"Alright, Col?"

"Hiya, Den."

He turned to James and Lee.

"Sorry, lads, I need a word with Dennis."

"There's no expiration date," laughed James, "See yer later."

"See yer," said Colin as the boys left.

"What expiration date?" asked Dennis.

"They're boyfriends and they want me to be their boyfriend too."

"Is that the Bully and the Victim from Hufflepuff that Danny told us about?"

"Yes."

"Are they still Bully and Victim?"

"Well, James let Lee begin the talking, but it must have been a conscious effort because he took over straight away and stayed in charge."

"Perhaps they need a Ref. But Colin! You're so popular!"

"You can say that again! That Ravenclaw seventh-year wanted me to go for a walk; and look at these!"

He handed over the notes from Seamus and Yuri.

As Dennis was reading them, David Ward, a Gryffindor third-year arrived.

"Hello, Creeveys," he said, "I'm the official dorm rep and I'm here to present our request."

"Present away, David," said Colin, though he thought he knew what was coming.

"Four days to Saturday," said David, "It used to be our Danny-night and we all want it to be a Creevey-night this term."

Colin looked at David. He was skinny, long-haired and bespectacled. Colin found him very sexy, indeed he found all four members of the dormitory sexy and had thoroughly enjoyed the seven-boy sex that had occurred earlier in the year.

"Me and Dennis are discussing some things now. We'll talk to you later, David."

"OK."

David left and the brothers formed a huddle to discourage further approaches.

"Colin, have you been giving the whole school love potions?"

"I don't know what's happening, Den!"

The two brothers discussed matters until the end of break, when Colin scampered off to join his classmates.

"Jonny! Sea Jay! I need protection," he said.

The two lovers had uncoupled their ankles, having made their point.

"What from?" asked Sea Jay.

"Everyone wants me to be their boyfriend."

Jonathan laughed: "If that's what's bothering you, there's two more here: welcome to the dragon's den, sexpot!"

"No, don't muck about. I don't want to have to spend all the time worrying about what I'm going to do with my willy."

At this point, Wayne Hopkins, a Hufflepuff fifth-year veered towards them. This was quite topical as they were headed for a lesson with Firenze, a centaur who, like Wayne, was hung like a horse—or so Danny said.

Jonathan and Sea Jay embraced with Colin between them.

"Quack, quack, quack," said Jonathan.

"Burble, burble, burble," said Sea Jay, and this was sufficient to deter Wayne.

"Thanks a million," said Colin and the lads went to suffer mushy brains and engorged penises in response to the Firenze Experience.

X X X

At lunchtime all four of Colin's dorm-mates, supported by Dennis, continued their protective duties and discussed Colin's situation.

They decided on a general notice to be posted in all houses along the lines of:

COLIN CREEVEY

Is this term concentrating on his STUDIES

Notes, Letters and Owls will be DESTROYED UNREAD

He is thinking of his studies at ALL TIMES

Do not intrude—even when he appears to be RESTING or PLAYING

DO NOT DISTURB!

"I've got a better idea!" said Dennis.

"What?" chorused five voices.

"You need intelligent, impartial advice; and I know where you can get it!"

"Who is he?" asked Colin.

"It's a she!"

"Who?" they shouted.

"Think!" said Dennis

"I couldn't face Professor McGonagall," said Colin.

"Not Professor Trelawney?" said Sea Jay.

"Rita Skeeter?" said Stewart.

"Umbridge? Piss off!" said Jonathan.

"Hermione Granger!" said Ray, and they all gasped.

"Oh, I could never . . ." said Colin.

"Yes, Ray! Danny's always said she's brilliant," said Dennis, "And look how she's organised . . . things, and she's independent 'cos she knows your gay, and she likes gays, and she won't be tempted 'cos she's always with Harry and Ron, and Danny says she and Ron were made for each other."

"But . . . if she's gonna help, I'll have to name names and that's breaking secrets—"

"Only to the Confessional," said Ray.

"Yes, tell her everything," said Jonathan.

"Everything?"

Jonathan became certain: "Yes, Colin. Show her the notes. Tell her who's asked you out. Tell her what you've done."

"It's . . . embarrassing."

"Come on, Col!" said Dennis, "You're in Gryffindor! Think how brave Alexander was!"

"Alexander who?" said Sea Jay, "And what did he do?"

Dennis recovered from his slip: "He's a Muggle from Birmingham."

"I'll do it!" said Colin, and went to make an appointment.

X X X

At half past six, Colin was sitting in a corner of the Great Hall when Hermione joined him.

Colin began: "It's really good of you to spare the time, Hermione. I know you've got O.W.L.'s in a month."

"I'll spare all the time you want, Colin. Are you in trouble?"

"Sort of . . . it's a bit hard to begin."

"Just start talking and I promise I'll keep it secret if you want me to."

Colin perked up: this was a straightforward issue.

"Yes, please do," he continued, "But it's a little complicated: I'm going to pass on things that people told me in secret."

"Oh, you shouldn't do that Colin! I'm not going to listen."

"Well, I'd like to pass them on; otherwise you won't be able to give me full advice. And Ray Kelly said it was OK because it's like confessing to a Muggle priest. But, if I tell you everything, you must really treat it as Secrets of the Confessional."

"OK, I promise. Now for goodness sake, make a start."

Colin smiled to himself: he guessed that Hermione's relaxation of attitude was partially due to a burning curiosity.

He started in earnest: "Hermione, you're like me: Muggle-born. So you must know a stock character in books and films: the female who's always complaining that she's forever being chased by males."

Hermione nodded: "Yes, and she's just being boastful or delusional; and usually she's not even particularly pretty."

"That's the character," said Colin, "Now, Hermione, I'm not being boastful or delusional and people say I am pretty, but this term loads of people have asked me out."

"That's understandable, Colin. You've always been tied up with Danny and Dennis and now they see an attractive and pleasant boy who might be available."

"Yes, that's what Alexander said."

"Alexander Bell?"

"Yes."

"But he's only a little boy."

"Little boys can fall in love; and little boys can have sexual feelings—I've had them since I was nine. But never mind the whys: I need to know what to do about all these boys who want to go out with me—the girls I can handle, that was what Ron was doing at breakfast."

Hermione smiled: "I suppose those two letters that Ron Vanished were from girls?"

"Yes," said Colin, "But the boys . . . let me tell you about it."

Colin related all the events of the day and showed her the four notes.

Hermione read them carefully.

At one point, prompted by Alexander's note, she blushed, steeled herself and asked: "Do boys really do that, Colin?"

"Yes, and they both enjoy it."

Hermione read on.

After re-reading the notes she said: "I can understand that it's not easy but surely, your friend Danny—"

"Brother."

"Sorry: your brother Danny. Surely he must have had to deal with the same problem: I mean, he was very popular, very affectionate, very demonstrative and a terrific gay advocate."

"Danny's way was to have a lot of sex."

"There were rumours in the girls' dorms; but some of the girls said it was just kissing and cuddling."

Colin laughed: "Hermione, Danny changed last summer—you know: grew up—and he must have done that with a couple of dozen boys at Hogwarts since then—and played about with a dozen more."

"But where did he find the time?"

"It doesn't take long for boys; and Danny's special: he's got loads of energy for anything."

"But he couldn't have loved them all."

"I told you Danny's special: he did love them all; he loved everybody—girls too, though in a different way."

"I wish all boys—and girls—were like that. And those boys he went with . . . were they all gay?"

"When they were with Danny, yes; but Danny says that's just Nature's way of bonding males and letting them practise sex and have fun before they grow up and marry and get children. And a lot of the boys Danny was going with had girlfriends anyway."

Hermione was blushing.

Colin took her hand: "And, to put you're mind at rest: your Ron hasn't practised with anyone—even Harry."

Hermione blushed even more: "He's not my Ron!"

Colin gave her hand a squeeze: "He is. He maybe doesn't realise it fully yet, but he is."

Hermione, looking like a happy beetroot, said: "Getting back to the subject: you don't fancy being like Danny?"

"No. My head's spinning just with having so many invites. I couldn't cope with lots of affairs. Besides there's the practical aspects: Danny could get into any dormitory at any time—he could get into any room in Hogwarts. The Slytherins say he locked Snape out of his own classroom."

"Professor Dumbledore said he had a password-cracking spell. I think that was worth much more than ten points."

"So what do you think I should do?"

"I think it's pretty easy: limit your love affairs and keep someone with you to be a watchdog at all times."

"Yes that's a good idea . . . and the love affairs: who should they be?"

"Let's have a bit of fun. Let's write down the names we think and compare."

On the backs of two of Colin's letters, they wrote their proposed names.

They compared answers and were delighted that they had both written the same two names: Alexander and Yuri.

"Oh, I'm much happier now!" said Colin, "They deserve to win."

"Yes," said Hermione, "Alexander for the intensity of his emotions and Yuri as a lonely boy in a foreign land—though I had doubts about what he's apologising for."

"He only flashed me."

"Flashed you? . . . Oh, you mean . . ."

"Yes, not a camera flash," said Colin, and they giggled together.

"And Colin," said Hermione, "Remember Alexander's only a baby. . . ."

"I know," said Colin, "and don't worry: he's so naïf that he put that bit in at the end as the last extra bit of bait he could think of. I'll look after him."

"That's good; and Colin, getting back to the whys, I think Alexander made another good point when he talked about your aura. Do you remember Danny's theory of the Golden Glow?"

"Of course. Danny says that even the ugliest and most deformed boys have a few weeks when they're around fourteen to sixteen when they're immensely attractive to gay boys. I remember he was asking the girls if they had experienced anything like that, but he couldn't get any confirmation."

"No. He asked me and I couldn't help."

"So you think this is my Golden Glow term?"

"If Danny's theory is right—and he's wise beyond his years—then I think this is your moment; and perhaps it does apply to girls, based on those two owls and the things I've heard and seen among the girls."

"Oh! I should tell you: we were thinking of a public Notice!" said Colin, and told Hermione about the draft that they had all concocted earlier."

Hermione laughed and said: "Not a bad idea. Might as well go ahead with it anyway. Now, let's get back to Gryffindor and thank you for helping me forget the O.W.L.'s for a bit."

"No. Thank you. I feel much better now."

On the way back to Gryffindor, they passed Blaise Zabini, a fifth-year Slytherin.

Zabini stopped and said: "Hi, Colin. Can I have a word?"

"No," said Colin firmly, "I'm with my watchdog."

Back in the common room, Hermione made for Ron and Harry.

Colin saw a group of youngsters sitting round a table playing with Quidditch figures.

He smiled at Dennis and squeezed his way onto a sofa between Jimmy Peakes and Alexander Bell.

He put an arm round Alexander and said: "Alright, mate? How's it going?"

— CHAPTER TWELVE — Seven Boys at the Ukraina

Alyosha had been from Heaven to Hell and back many times during they day. His emotional roller-coaster exploded when he saw Chaikovsky bumming his brother. At that moment he felt in Heaven and Hell simultaneously: immense joy at the sight of Pyotr and immense depression because of Pyotr's willing degradation by Chaikovsky.

There was also a set of jealousies such as he had never known before: Alyosha should be the one bumming Pyotr and yet the concept of Chaikovsky bumming Alyosha was also in his mind.

He was squeezed against his astonishing new friend Danny and felt love and gratitude for all he had done; yet anger that he was queer; and jealousy that Danny should be so wrapped up in Brian; and disgust at himself for not accepting what was obviously a beautiful friendship—two beautiful friendships, for the red-haired boy and Pyotr clearly meant a lot to each other.

Then, on the flight back—a flight on a Magic Carpet!—as Alyosha sat pressed against Pyotr, Danny had talked again about gay sex and gay love and Alyosha had a sense of the seven boys in their own world with nobody to threaten and command them.

It was a pure world and a happy world; a world where it was reasonable for Danny and Brian to be parents of the dark little Tishchenko boys.

By the time that Alyosha crawled into the hotel room and met Danny's mother, he was experiencing a feeling of optimism such as he had never known before.

They took some time to settle down, as everyone needed to pee and Mrs Jorrocks insisted on hands being washed.

Eventually, they were all sitting round a table loaded with sandwiches and chips, telling Mrs Jorrocks their names.

"And have none of you parents?" she asked, I know about the Kalinovs; what about you, Nicolai Porfiryevich?"

"I was brought up in a state institution and recruited to a school of magic, Mrs Jorrocks," said Nick.

"And what about you, Boris Yurevich and Pavel Yurevich?"

"We have two fathers," said Boris.

"That's nice," smiled Mrs Jorrocks, "Provided you get on with them."

She turned to Daniel: "Should we contact them in the morning, Daniel? Or are they too disfunctional?"

All the boys laughed and Danny said: "It's me and Brian, Mum."

Mrs Jorrocks, seemed to accept this as quite a reasonable state of affairs. She turned back to the twins: "So I've got two grandsons. I never expected even one. Come and give your Gran a cuddle, boys!"

The boys trotted over and she hugged them.

"Swap places," she said to Danny and Brian, and for the rest of the meal sat between the twins, occasionally cuddling them and occasionally stroking the back of their heads.

When the boys' chewing rate slowed, Mrs Jorrocks rose and said: "I'll go to bed. Danny, I'll leave you to sort out the sleeping arrangements."

"We'll all stay close together, Mum. We'll be in the big room."

"Yes, that's good."

She kissed the boys goodnight and left the room.

"Sleeping arrangements," said Pyotr, "I will sleep with Alyosha."

He glanced at Nick, who smiled and said: "Of course; and Danny with Brian; and the twins together; and me on my own."

"Not on your own," said Danny, "We'll squeeze into two beds as we are close to each other."

Alyosha felt a warmth inside him as though his soul were basking in the loyalty of his brother.

He put an arm round Pyotr and kissed his cheek, saying: "My big brother will look after me."

Pyotr squeezed him back.

Danny got up.

"Let's be off—Oh!"

He was looking at the twins, who were leaning on each other in deep sleep.

"Kalinins, please bring them."

Danny led the way and Alyosha sleepwalked one twin after him, followed by Pyotr and the other twin.

It was the same room as last night and Danny was fetching more pillows from the cupboard.

Following his brother's lead, he stripped his twin to vest and pants. They laid the twins down in the small bed where they immediately resumed their sleep.

"Better take the twins for a pee or they'll wet the bed," said Danny, and the twins were lifted and walked to the bathroom.

They supported the twins and pulled out their willies. Alyosha felt scarcely a feather's weight resting on his fingers.

Danny had shown wisdom: the twins pissed gallons. Aiming was tricky because the piss had to find its way through a lot of foreskin.

Alyosha found himself going stiff. He was not upset by this and wondered if Pyotr was going stiff too.

As if in answer, Pyotr looked up and said: "Cute, aren't they?"

Alyosha looked at his brother, then at the two, nearly-drained willies.

"Yeah, cute," he said.

They got the boys back to bed.

Nick laughed and said: "Fine parents you are! You leave Nanas to look after your little boys!"

Danny laughed, as did Brian when Danny explained.

There was toing and froing as the five elder boys stripped and went for their ablutions.

Nick and the Kalinins kept their underclothes on but the two hosts disrobed completely.

Alyosha and his brother lay at the foot of the big bed.

With Nick smiling goodnight at them from the foot of the single bed, and the two naked gay lovers roaming about the room, Alyosha was a bit shy of demonstrating too much love for his brother, but Pyotr had no such qualms: he lay close to Alyosha and pushed his left arm under his neck.

This was really what Alyosha wanted. After all these months, he was with his brother. Gay had nothing to do with it. He had one person in the world and that person was whispering in his ear: "Night-night, little brother. Sweet dreams."

"Dream come true," he said, and pulled Pyotr tighter against him with his left arm.

He watched Danny's bottom as it passed through the door, and shivered, not because the bottom upset him but because he had a strange awareness that, somewhere in the world, two other brothers were lying in an identical situation.

He relaxed but tensed up again when Danny returned and Brian went out.

It wasn't that Danny's floppy willy had upset him; nor Brian's bottom.

He knew he was looking forward to another peep at Brian's long, thin snake.

This wouldn't do! He closed his eyes and gave himself over to enjoying his brother's warmth.

"I remember your smell," whispered Pyotr.

He opened his eyes and said: "I remember yours too; You always smelt like a shithouse."

They giggled, and were still giggling when Brian came back.

"Lights out!" said Danny.

"Lights out, no!" said Brian.

He stood by the bed and said: "Tonight we see Nick and Alyosha enjoying. So now they see us!"

"OK!" said Danny and lay on his back with his legs flexed at the knee.

Alyosha could see that his penis was stiffening.

"No," said Brian, and pushed Danny's knees down.

The two of them talked in English for some time. It was not exactly an argument—more like a negotiation.

Then Danny said "OK" again and reached for his wand.

"No," said Brian, again and crouched taking Danny's willy into his mouth.

Alyosha got just a glimpse of Danny's erection it was quite fat and long: a good mouthful as the body-sellers said.

It was going to be a blow-job. Alyosha regretted not having a good view. He would have liked to have seen a non-commercial blow-job.

But no: Brian shuffled up the bed and positioned his bottom with the hole by Danny's willy.

He reached under him and grasped Danny. Then he sat down. He sat down hard.

Alyosha's eyes watered in sympathy. How could anyone take it just like that?

Then he remembered that they must have been doing this for years. Brian's arsehole must be as wide as a nigger's nostrils.

But he had to change his mind again: Brian had grunted: the sort of grunt that he knew from the streets was made by a man suppressing a scream of pain.

Danny must have felt this too: he looked alarmed and reached a hand out to touch Brian.

Brian shouted something and Danny started poking.

Brian leant forward to kiss Danny and Alyosha had occasional glimpses of the base of a penis stretching what must be a tight hole.

He wondered if they had ever done this before.

He was as stiff as steel and felt an urgency to do something.

His brother came to his rescue: Alyosha could feel a hand finding its way inside his underpants. Then Pyotr was giving him a hand-job.

"Do this little Alyosha," he said, withdrawing his hand.

Alyosha starting doing it, then whispered: "It's better when you do it."

The hand came back and Pyotr was rubbing him the same way as they had both rubbed punters, but slowly, caringly.

It felt good.

He was sure that punters never felt like this.

The sight of Brian bouncing up and down on Danny and the feeling of his brother's hand on his willy combined to give him a wonderful feeling in his body and soul.

He felt himself floating in a sea of love.

He had never told Pyotr that he loved him.

"I love you so much. I've missed you so much," he said.

"You too, little brother," whispered Pyotr.

He felt a marvellously pleasant feeling.

Danny must be feeling it too: he was groaning and holding Brian really tight.

The feeling just got better and better. Alyosha hoped it would never end.

Then there was a wonderful climax; and suddenly it was gone.

But the feeling of Love remained. This was what Danny had been talking about on the Magic Carpet: Love being more important than Sex.

He wanted the moment to last forever. He wanted these seven boys to love each other, have sex together, be true friends forever.

There was not a trace of jealousy about Nick left.

He loved Nick too.

He turned to look at Nick who was smiling at him with his breath coming in gasps: he had been fisting the baldie too.

Danny and Brian had stopped moving and Brian slowly rose. A little flow of liquid came from his hole and landed on Danny's privates.

Danny reached for his underpants and wiped Brian and then himself.

He got up and found something in a drawer.

It was a bottle of liquid which Danny used to soothe Brian's hole, first outside and then inside sticking a finger as far up as it would go.

Alyosha felt himself stiffening again.

Brian spoke and Danny translated: "Brian says it was a privilege to lose his virginity in the company of five wonderful boys."

"Virginity?" said Nick, "But surely you must have . . ."

"Brian isn't like Pyotr—or Alyosha, I think—and doesn't have pre-pubertal orgasms. I've always said we should wait until he can properly enjoy getting bummed. But tonight, he insisted it was meant to be—and, as you saw, it was!"

"Tell Brian we're the privileged ones," said Nick and the Kalinins voiced agreement.

"But there are only three of us," said Nick.

He indicated the twins, who had slept through everything.

They laughed and Danny said: "Now! Really lights out!"

In the darkness, Alyosha could feel Danny bumping his way back to bed.

"Night night, friends," he said.

"Night night," came back.

Alyosha turned on his side and shaped himself to fit as closely as possible to his brother.

He felt so happy.

There was a nagging sense of something not done.

Then he realised: he had not given his brother those wonderful feelings.

He turned and reached for his brother's willy, but was asleep before he reached it.

X X X

Alyosha woke up and felt a sense of loss.

He had just been in the middle of a sublime dream: he was with his brother, Pyotr Davidovich, and they were lying in a warm park, untroubled by the police, or the gangs, or the druggies, or the lunatics.

He stirred a little and felt a leg lying on his own leg. He sensed that it was this strange leg had nudged him awake.

He was alert at once, body strained, ready to make a run for it.

He opened his eyes slowly and his heart thumped. There, a foot away was the head of his brother.

And Alyosha's hand was clutching Pyotr's torso.

It was true, and it all came back to him.

His brother was free; they were together; they were being looked after by a kind lady and her son, the Magician.

He raised his head and saw Nick and the two little twins curled up.

He looked to his left and saw Danny and Brian. His willy stiffened as he remembered what had happened.

He needed a piss and turned to get out of bed.

"Don't leave me," murmured Pyotr, throwing an arm over him and pulling them together.

He kissed Pyotr and said: "I'll never leave you. Come for a piss."

Pyotr stayed still so Alyosha shook his shoulder and tugged, saying: "Come on Brother, dearest."

They stumbled to the bathroom where the bright sun woke them up a bit more.

Pyotr spurted a torrent into the bowl, but for Alyosha, with an iron-hard stalker, things were not so easy.

Pyotr laughed: "He's learnt about life, littlest brother; and now he knows, he'll never give you peace."

Eventually, Alyosha managed some sort of piss and they returned to the bedroom.

Alyosha crept towards his clothes, but Pyotr, saying noisily: "I'm free and the sun's high!" opened the curtains.

The others struggled into wakefulness. Danny and Brian kissed; the twins kissed; Nick lay unkissed.

"Poor, unhappy Nicolai!" said Pyotr and kissed him.

"Now lucky Nicolai!" said Pyotr.

Alyosha kissed the boy too.

"Now, lucky Nicolai!" he said.

It was after eleven o'clock and they were peckish.

They got up and Danny found a paper which the Kalinovs had missed pinned up:

Darling Daniel,

Gone shopping.

Don't go out.

Get your food from Room Service.

You will have to take off the DO NOT DISTURB.

I am buying clothes so don't bother showering them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Try that one, Bri," said Danny, and Brian made a pretty good show of translation, but with enough mistakes to wake everyone up properly.

Danny took their food and drink requirements and when breakfast had been delivered (two waiters, one of whom eyed up the boys surreptitiously), he asked Nick for his history.

"It started off in a usual way," he began, "State Orphanage. It wasn't a pleasure-garden, but it wasn't bad. I was good at lessons and well-behaved, so they let me join the Young Pioneers when I was eight. Then the Government started falling apart and the orphanage people and the teachers weren't getting paid. I had to go on the streets before I was eleven.

"Life was tough. It was a cold winter that year and it was hard getting food. I've always felt special and I really knew it for the first time when a bread roll flew into my hand by itself. I thought it was because I was gay. I've always known I was gay but it was a deadly secret—there's no such thing as a gay Young Pioneer. Other things happened and I got arrested a few times—just got a beating and back on the streets.

"But one time a shopkeeper wanted to withdraw the charges because I was the devil. He kept saying it: He's the Devil! He's the Devil! until they booted him out. But they didn't let me go; they kept me in and said I had to see the Psychologist.

"And when the Psychologist came, he examined me and said I would be sent to a special Government Training School."

Nick laughed: "It was a school of wizardry, of course—not witches: women are nothing in Russia. I was really good and they put me and another kid on an advanced course."

"What was he called?" asked Danny.

"Yuri Ilich Prokofiev—nice kid; I loved him, but we couldn't be friends—nobody could be friends: everything had to be done in the collective. I hated that—specially when I started to get sex-feelings. I wanted to shag every boy in the school and I couldn't even talk to them—couldn't even smile at them. Everything was competitive and the winners got treats and the losers got Vulnero! or even Crucio!

"We were told that our Head was called Special K and he would supervise me and Yuri personally. Then we were told that he was absent on an important project. The lessons continued as normal, but high intensity—specially for me and Yuri—we could never relax."

"Where was the school?" asked Danny.

"Deep, deep underground there was a Muggle prison called Butyrka above it."

"Didn't you get any fresh air?"

"Yeah, they took us to the wizard bit of Catherine Park for PE and competitive games—no broomsticks: they told us that Russian transport systems were much more advanced."

"You could have escaped."

"You're joking! We were watched closely, We were only given our wands when there was spell-tuition, so we didn't have them in the Park; And the perimeter was guarded by the want-to-die curse—you know: Khochumeret!"

Danny whistled: "Does that really exist?"

"Yes. It was invented by some wizards called Oprichniks and it's even worse than the Cruciatus."

"So how did you escape?"

"Not from the school. A couple of years ago, Special K came back from his project. He's a very powerful wizard; all the staff were terrified of him. We met him, me and Yuri, and he told us we were going on a mission that would bring glory to Russia and wealth and honour to ourselves. Well, I couldn't give a fart for Russia and I didn't for a moment believe we'd get anything better than the chance to go on a suicide-mission.

"We couldn't talk, of course, but I sensed that Yuri felt like me. And, like me, he hated Special K. The man hasn't got a decent atom in his body. But we both had to go along with it.

"We were put on a really intensive course in English and, after a year, we were told that our mission was coming up: we were going to register at an English school of wizardry. We would each smuggle in components for a special monitoring station. When we assembled our separate components, the Russians would be able to spy on the teachers at the school and learn the secret spells that had been newly-developed.

"To help us fit in, we were taught hobbies: Yuri got Muggle photography; I got Muggle piano-playing.

"We were told that we would travel to England by Muggle aeroplane, taking our monitor-components with us. We would be met by a courier who would give us our wands and deliver us to the school. There, we would assemble our components and await instructions on how to activate the device.

"Our mission was scheduled for just before last Christmas.

"Well, I knew the Muggle world, and I knew that there were some crimes that they'd never treat just with a Psychologist so I stole a knife from the school kitchens. At the airport I made a bolt towards a security guard. I stabbed him in the stomach—nowhere near any big blood-vessels—and of course I was pulled in and straight to the prison.

"And at Podolsk, I was put in a cell with Pyotr and I knew he was a wizard and I sensed a mental link, and so did he and we swapped beds to be next to each other and did everything together. And he'd heard me wanking in the night and he told me he was gay and if I wanted to I could have him—"

"You never Pyotr!" interrupted Alyosha.

"Alyosha, little brother," said Pyotr, "When I was nine I realised I was gay and, even then, looking back I remembered thinking when I was five that men were special, and I knew I would never be close to women."

"But you never told me!"

"As if you needed something else to worry about! And, anyway, I never expected to ever actually do anything about it, but when I met Nick I knew that was it."

"I'd have stuck by you!"

"I know you would. Can't you get it into your thick head that I loved you so much, I wanted to spare you the stress?"

Alyosha realised that this was just a silly brother's quarrel and he looked over at Danny. who asked: "Nick, what form did this special monitoring equipment take?"

"Have a look; I'll go and get it."

"What? The Militia let you keep it?"

Nick went to the bedroom and came back with his kitbag. He pulled out a doll.

Everyone laughed.

"Matryoshka dolls!" said Alyosha, "And their eyes will come to life and monitor the English teachers' secrets!"

Danny stood the doll up and waved his wand over it, muttering things. Then he separated the three dolls and repeated the process on each.

He looked up and said: "These are loose-fitting. Presumably Yuri had three or four dolls to go with yours?"

"Presumably. I never saw his equipment and he never saw mine."

"Baffling!"

The twins hijacked the dolls and played with them. Brian crossed the room and joined in.

The Kalinovs sat with arms around each other, whispering together.

Danny went and sat by Nick.

He put an arm around him and said: "Nick, you've had an awful life—you and the other boys. It's going to be peace and happiness from now on. Let me tell you about me and Brian and why we went to Podolsk. . . ."

Alyosha registered this and no more. He and his brother were bonding more closely than ever before.

It was into this domestic idyll that Mrs Jorrocks burst a few minutes later: "Quick, Danny! You never told me about Kryuchkov! Put the TV on!"

X X X

Mrs Jorrocks was accompanied by three porters who dumped a huge number of bags and boxes in the hall.

She turned on the television and the lads, infected with her excitement, sat down to watch it.

A pretty girl was talking to camera. The could see Podolsk prison in the background.

She was saying:

We simply don't know how many of the trainees are still at large. We know that there were four hundred and six on the roll last night.

We have also heard that many of the escapees were allowed to travel without tickets on the train to Moscow and others got lifts from long-distance lorry drivers to all parts of the country.

Even though the escape has been widely publicised, it's clear that many people are still concealing some boys—maybe through misplaced sympathy and maybe as a general protest.

A voice interrupted:

Sasha, do we know just how the escape was carried out?

We've been told nothing officially but it seems the facility staff were drugged, the fence was pulled down—a powerful digger was reported in the area—and the dormitory doors were systematically unlocked.

We don't know how many accomplices Kryuchkov had, but the plan seems to have gone remarkably smoothly—apart from the fact that this is the wrong prison—not that this is a prison of course: it's a—let me check to get it right—a Juvenile Correctional Educational Resettlement Facility.

Thank you Sasha, now over to Bogdan for the political implications.

A man in a raincoat standing in front of Militia HQ appeared:

Hello Martin. Formal charges have not been placed yet, but there seems little doubt that they will be soon and that bail will be refused.

Outside his power-base—and even inside, as it turned out five years ago—Kryuchkov never had many supporters but some of the most fanatical of them are still in prison and it seems that this was a desperate attempt to rescue them in preparation for another bid for power.

The fact that Kryuchkov, despite his years behind bars, got the wrong prison is regarded as a huge joke. One Duma member commented: "Kryuchkov can tie his shoelaces and that's the only thing he's ever got right."

There was an attempt by Kryuchkov's political team to spin his actions as a protest against harsh conditions for young offenders, but this caused even more amusement as it was remembered that, during Soviet days, Kryuchkov was a firm advocate of tougher penalties for criminals.

The ease with which the escape was effected has, however, caused serious concern to the Government and there has been a big increase in security, with military units being moved to strategic points inside and outside prisons all over the country.

The opposition have not been making much capital out of the affair. The official spokesman seemed to think the Economy was more important. The oil pipeline—"

The television suddenly became less interesting—especially as the presence of Mrs Jorrocks's shopping had registered on the company.

The boys waited expectantly as Daniel and his mother had a muttered conversation in English which went on and on . . ."

At last Mrs Jorrocks told them: "I'm going to the office. While I'm gone, Daniel is in charge. I'll put DO NOT DISTURB back, Daniel."

She left and it was Christmas Day! Bags were emptied; parcels were unwrapped; trainers were admired.

There was a Christian name marked on the inside of every item of clothing and each boy had a comb and toothbrush, also bearing his name.

Alyosha and Pyotr started undressing so as to try on their new clothes. The Tishchenkos could not wait and were putting theirs on over the prison garb.

Danny called a halt: "Showers first! Brian me and our sons in my parents' shower; you three in the one you know.

They all stripped and Alyosha was looking forward to seeing Danny and Brian in the nude again, but was diverted by the sight of Nick's mass of bright orange pubic hair. He couldn't believe how much there was: Nick's willy was scarcely visible.

He started to go stiff and felt a momentary twinge of shame and self-disgust, but then he remembered the events of the night and saw that his brother was stiff too.

His gay brother: it seemed strange. The world had changed. Was he gay too? He found himself not caring: he loved his brother and wanted him to be happy; and then there were the wonderful feelings. . . ."

They went into the bathroom and Alyosha began to rub himself.

"Pyotr," he said, "if you and Nick want to . . . you know . . . don't let me stop you."

"Let's save it, little brother, and just have a wank."

They stood rubbing themselves. Pyotr's willy was slightly bigger than his; he didn't have hair. Nick had a small, thin willy. No wonder that it fitted into Pyotr so easily.

He wondered what was going on in the other shower. He had a feeling that Danny and Brian were soaping the twins all over. He wondered whether the two big boys were stiff. Would Danny do Brian again? Would they get the twins to help them?

Nick started to gasp and produced a spurt of cum. Alyosha regretted not giving Nick a free blow-job. He would have willingly swallowed his cum. He remembered a German tourist had once offered extra money if Alyosha swallowed, but he had found it too revolting.

Pyotr was coming now. As Alyosha wanked, he was happy that his brother was with him and enjoying himself. He reached out his free hand and pressed Pyotr's back. Pyotr smiled through his panting and stroked his head.

The lovely feelings were coming. As they got stronger and stronger, he couldn't stop himself kissing his brother on the lips. He heard a strange moan, as if someone were in pain, and realised that it came from himself.

The big thump came. Sex was so delightful. He realised that he had slobbered on his brother's lips and worried that he had gone too far.

But Pyotr understood: he kept his lips pressed against Alyosha's and stroked his back.

He heard Nick turning on the shower and, after a while, Pyotr pushed him away.

There was comfortably room for two but not three, so they showered individually. This was just as well, as erections were returning and might have delayed the joy of clothes.

When they returned to the sitting room, the Tishchenkos had already dressed in their bright tracksuits and were noisily parading up and down in front of each other, running into the bedroom to pose in front of the long mirror and running back to admire the other boys' new clothes.

Eventually, Danny restored order and the seven smartly-dressed boys tidied the place up: there was a great pile of wrappings and useless clothes in the hall, redeemable clothes in a laundry-bag and spares in seven neatly-stacked holdalls in the bedroom—which still stank, Alyosha thought, of the night-time emanations of seven unwashed boys.

Danny summoned the chambermaid service. Two of them arrived and worked quickly and efficiently, though Alyosha noticed that, when they had a chance, their glances fell on Nick.

Mrs Jorrocks arrived to find the place immaculate. She had a stranger with her who turned out to be a barber.

He cut each of the boys' hair, though the ex-prisoners hardly needed it and Danny decided it was a ruse to make him lose some of his untidy mop.

When he had left, Mrs Jorrocks sent for some tea and they had a light snack.

Danny had done a bit of wandwork and was wearing a tee-shirt bearing the advice:

I WENT TO MOSCOW

AND ALL I GOT WAS

THIS BLOODY HAIRCUT

By and by, they were full and Danny stood up to announce:

"Right boys! We're going to London!"

— CHAPTER THIRTEEN — Colin is Wet

Colin was not mad about Quidditch. When Dennis was having a fan-session in the common room, he usually left him to it.

On this evening, however, he really enjoyed it.

Apart from seeing his brother being happy and the other little boys awed and delighted at the presence of the famous fourth-year, there was the knowledge that someone who was desperately in love with him was shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip and thigh-to-thigh.

Colin had the horn more-or-less constantly that evening, but he wasn't bothered in the least: it might be due to the knowledge that Alexander had got a really tight arsehole; it might be due to the occasional whiff of Seamus coming from his hot body—reinforced by the sight of Seamus himself panickily revising with Dean; it might be simply that Colin was a healthy boy who had not had sex for twenty hours.

Chris Gillies had a set of Stars-of-the-Future and Colin set Oliver Wood walking up and down his palm. Colin knew from Danny that Oliver enjoyed dressing up as a woman and having mutual peeing and spanking sessions with his friends.

He caught Dennis's eye and the two brothers collapsed into lengthy giggling.

"What is it?" asked Alexander.

"Just a brother thing," he said, then instantly realised that it was Alexander's lack of self-confidence and consequent fear that they were laughing at him which had caused him to speak.

He put his mouth to Alexander's ear and whispered: "I promise to tell you when we know each other better—and we will know each other better."

He turned his mouth away with just a suggestion of a kiss and noticed Simon Hibbard staring at the figure of Viktor Krum.

Yes, Quidditch stars were sexy.

The thought lead him, naturally enough, to think of Harry and he glanced over at him.

Harry caught his eye and shouted over: "Yes, it's me! The real me, you conniving pair of ratbags!"

This caused another set of giggles, but before Alexander could say anything, Colin whispered: "Another brother thing. And also a secret with Harry. I hope I can share secrets with you soon."

This time it was a definite kiss.

When Quidditch started to become repetitive, Colin took out Yuri's negatives and challenged the youngsters to identify the subjects.

It took practice, but they could finally recognize people successfully, though they couldn't understand why Colin and Yuri should relish such an abstruse hobby.

"I must go and give these to Yuri for printing," said Colin, collecting the negatives and getting up.

The he turned to Alexander: "Your bedtime soon. I'd come and read a good story to you, but I've got to see Yuri and then do some homework. Sleep well, Alexander. See yer tomorrow."

There was a chorus of Good night, Colin, which drowned out Alexander's individual contribution.

Alexander looked stunned—and stunning, thought Colin.

X X X

Sea Jay and Jonathan agreed to act as watchdogs once the rôle had been explained.

As Colin knocked at Ravenclaw Tower, Jonathan asked: "Do you want us to wait?"

"No thanks," said Colin, "Adam and James can see me back."

"That's a point," said Sea Jay, "Let's spend some time with them."

"Not if they're going to talk about marriage all night," said Jonathan darkly.

There was a moment's silence.

O-ho! though Colin, with a little surprise. Being Danny's brother had made him sensitive.

One of the youngsters answered the door and they asked for Yuri and Adam, both of whom arrived all smiles and escorted them to the common room.

A face familiar to Colin rose from a chair and approached.

"Hello, I'm Filipe Smith," said the seventh-year who had been pursuing him.

"Didn't you read the notice?" asked Jonathan.

"Er . . . what notice?"

"It's on the board."

Filipe Smith walked towards the board.

"That was quick," said Colin.

"We didn't pee about," said Jonathan, "Adam, Derek and Adrian got it up before tea."

"Yuri—" began Colin, but Luna Lovegood came up.

"Oh Colin!" she said, "I think it's wonderful that you're concentrating on your studies this term, even when you appear to be resting or playing. Would you like me to give you some Anti-Nargle Equipment to stop them sabotaging your notes?"

"No thanks, Luna, I'll risk it."

"And are you really thinking of your work now, even while you're resting and playing with me?"

"Yes, and I'm going to have a talk about photography with Yuri."

"Oh I love photography can I watch your talk with Yuri, please? I won't say a word, unless I spot a Nargle."

Colin looked at Jonathan and Sea Jay, but they had nothing to offer.

Then Colin thought of a pure Dannyism: "Tell you what Luna: why don't you join the others? They're going to have a long talk about marriage."

Jonathan spluttered but Luna was delighted: "Oh, it would be nice to talk about marriage. You and James are getting married, aren't you Adam? Are you two getting married as well?"

Jonathan spluttered some more.

"Come on Yuri. Take me to a quiet corner." said Colin.

They settled down on a suitable sofa.

"Here's your negatives for enlarging, mate," said Colin, "They're good. I haven't even developed mine yet."

"Thanks. I'm pleased you came."

"I don't know how to talk about souls, so why don't we tell each other about our lives. You start because you're exotic and I'm just ordinary, except for being Muggle-born."

Yuri smiled: "I'm ordinary too—"

He was interrupted by the arrival of Tintin, who was dressed in a robe trimmed with multi-coloured lace.

He did look nice, thought Colin: like a pretty little girl dressed up for a birthday party.

"Well, Hello-o-o!" said Tintin, "Is this your girlfriend? I must say she looks quite pretty for a foreigner."

"Not now, Tintin," said Colin, "We're discussing photographic techniques."

"I bet your technique is faultless!"

"Piss off!" said Yuri.

"Foreigner, see?" said Tintin and went back to sit with his own age-group, wiggling his bottom at the frenetically-studying Roger Davis on the way.

"Carry on, Yuri, please," said Colin.

"Ordinary, yes. My family are from the countryside and my parents saved up to send me to best wizarding school in Russia. I was there for four years and two terms, but the exams that I would take are trivial. So they sent me here to take your exams. They are much tougher but I am good wizard who has worked hard, despite weak teaching."

"What led you to Muggle photography?"

"Part of Muggle studies at school. Then I got hooked and they selected it as my official hobby. With you being Muggle-born, I guess it was the only photography."

"Yes, and when they said I was a wizard, I brought my stuff here. But mine is basic. Yours must have been expensive. Your parents must be rich."

"No, Government grant. Now you tell me about the Creeveys."

Colin told about his family and being gay and about Danny and about Dennis turning straight.

"When did you know that you were gay, Yuri?" he asked.

"When I was eight or nine."

"What was it like?"

"Bad. Very bad to be gay in Russia—wizard or straight. So very secret. Nobody knows. Then I come here. I already made up my mind to be gay here but when I heard that zhabalits—what is the little crawling animal with bumps."

"Toad!" laughed Colin, "We call her Toadface too!"

"Well, when I heard Toadface stop boys holding hands I thought: there is crackdown on gays, but they must have advanced at least some of the way; not like Russia. So I kissed Seamus and it was OK. Then I saw you and my soul went out to you."

"I don't want your dark Russian soul! I want your cheerful Hogwarts soul!"

"I am cheerful with you, yes. And we both like photography. I feel it was destined."

Before Colin could reply, his friends came to collect him.

"Nearly nine o'clock, Colin," said Sea Jay.

"Good night, Yuri," said Colin, and again took the initiative in snogging him. This time it lasted longer and Colin pressed his groin hard against Yuri and squeezed his bum.

"Zdarovo!" said Yuri as the three Gryffindors left.

"How did you escape Luna?" asked Colin.

"Didn't have to," said Sea Jay, "We talked about Harry and how the Quibbler could do more for him."

"Good show!"

"But you owe us something, Colin," said Jonny, "We don't mind being your minders, but who minds the minders? I reckon dumping Luna on us deserves an all-night sandwich."

"Didn't you read the notice?" said Colin, sternly.

They all laughed. Then Colin said: "Anyway, I'm seeing Dennis tonight, but let's have a quick snack."

The three boys went back to Gryffindor with their arms around each other.

Dennis had gone to bed, but was still awake as he was expecting Colin, who had never mastered the Juvenile Charms that would have got him through the security spells. Dennis's was one of the rare dormitories occupied by six boys.

It had been a standing joke with the three brothers that Danny would have died of exhaustion had he been locked up every night with five other boys rather than four.

Colin had often visited Dennis's dorm, but tonight here was intense interest. Jimmy Peakes voiced the reason: "We didn't know you were a friend of Bell, Colin."

Dennis answered for him: "Well, you do now. He'll probably ditch him now he's concentrating on his studies. He'll probably ditch me now."

"Shut up, Dennis," said Colin, playing up to his brother, "Just because I ditched Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle."

"You went out with them?" gasped Jimmy.

"Yes, but not at the same time, I may be gay, but I'm not a pervert."

"You went out with Sloper, Coote and McLaggen at the same time," said Dennis.

"A boy's allowed one mistake isn't he?"

"I thought that was when you dated Professor Snape."

The five boys had been stationary, in, or nearly-in their pyjamas, gaping as more and more revelations unfolded.

It was Raj Mallya, the most intelligent, who laughed and said: "Good wind-up. You had us all going, Colin."

The others laughed, but were a bit abashed to have swallowed so many pieces of bait.

"Sorry Colin," said Jimmy, "I wasn't being malicious, just interested—and supportive. And what was that about reading Bell a good story? Was that code for sex?"

For the umpteenth time that evening, the brothers had the giggles.

"If you only knew the number of times Colin's read me a story!" said Danny.

"Meaning a story; nothing to with sex, twit!" said Colin.

The brothers caught each other's eye and burst out in renewed giggles: the story had always been a story; and it had always been preceded, accompanied, interrupted or followed by some sort of sex.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I've some teeth to brush."

As Colin fished out his toothbrush, there was renewed excitement. They were used to Dennis staying with Colin but the reverse had never happened.

But the excitement died down: one boy was brushing his teeth and his brother stripping for bed. It wasn't exactly earth-shattering news.

Only one boy followed Colin into the bathroom: Andrew Kirke, the worst Beater in the Western Hemisphere; or any hemisphere; or any hemihypersphere.

"Er . . . Colin . . . I just wondered . . . if you were getting Dennis to organise the boys like they say Danny did in his dorm, count me in."

Kirke departed without waiting for a reply, having used up his courage for the night.

Colin left the bathroom, stripped off to his undies and slipped inside Dennis's curtains.

Dennis had barely stretched to greet Colin when there was a "TA-DA!" and Chris Gillies appeared between the curtains.

He pulled out his willy and wiggled it at them, just as Dennis had once seen him wiggling it at Danny—only this time it was erect.

The boys giggled and Dennis shouted: "Oh, Chris, put it away! We're tired out!"

Chris disappeared and they heard Simon's voice asking: "What's going on, Gils?" and Chris's huskier voice telling him: "It's not for you, Si."

Their voices faded as Colin invoked all the Protection and Concealment charms he could manage and Dennis pulled down Colin's underpants.

"Colin, they're soaking!" said Dennis, bouncing with excitement, "And you're dripping! Did you do anything in Ravenclaw?"

"No, it's pre-cum. I've been gushing it out all night."

"Was it 'cos of Alexander? That's brilliant!"

"It wasn't just Alexander. It was everything when we were in the common room: you and the others with Harry nearby and smelling Seamus; and then when I was talking with Yuri; and then Jimmy Peakes."

"He is hot, isn't he? I think he'll be the first in dorm to change."

"So it's been going on all night. I don't know where it all comes from. I don't know if there's any more to come with."

"Col, let me suck you! I might have to chew it!"

"Let's sixty-nine."

They arranged themselves on their sides and Colin took his brother's willy into his mouth. It had been a long day and Colin felt as though he had come home.

He had one hand round Dennis, exploring his bottom and the other between his legs fondling his balls and bumhole.

He sucked and moved his mouth feeling a throb of lust as Dennis did the same to him while slipping his finger inside Colin's bum.

He could feel Dennis's lust too, as his bum tightened and quivered. He pushed his finger inside the hole and Dennis gave a little yelp of pleasure and started to shag Colin's mouth.

Colin found his hips moving too and soon felt the shivery wave of orgasm approaching.

The Magic Moment Danny called it: to be physically and spiritually united with someone you love more than yourself.

His hips seemed to be moving by themselves as he squirted into Dennis. He seemed to be squirting into Danny, too. He felt Danny was close to them tonight.

He felt as though the universe consisted of his love for his brothers. He felt as though he were Dennis, with shrieks of pleasure sounding bubbly because of the Creevey-cum filling his mouth.

As Dennis stopped moving, Colin relaxed the suction on his willy.

He could hear Dennis gulping as he swallowed and then feel his willy being sucked again—gently, in a loving way.

Each boy was comforting his brother.

In this position they fell asleep.

— CHAPTER FOURTEEN — London

Mrs Jorrocks phoned her husband to let him know what was going on.

Danny could hear Mr Jorrocks at the other end: "What do you mean Daniel's got Kryuchkov locked up in a Muggle prison? Put him on!"

Danny had to give a summary of events.

"It was all Chance, Dad—Chance or Fate."

"Well, whatever it was, be careful in London."

"I will Dad!"

He put his mother back on to explain the arrangements.

When Mr Jorrocks had been placated and all the packing had been done, Mrs Jorrocks set a lidless, rusty paint-can on a table.

Danny pointed his wand at the can and called: Portus! Reversio!

The can glowed and eerie blue for a moment.

"Nick first, I think," said Danny, "Bag in one hand; get ready to touch the can with the other. On the count of three: one . . . two . . . three."

The boys touched the can together. There was a safety delay of a few seconds, then the dizzy feeling and whirling colours began. It took a full ten seconds before they touched down. Danny had seen a dash of grey-blue which he thought might be the North Sea.

Nick sprawled beside him on a thickly-carpeted floor.

Danny got up. A smiling, pleasant-faced, youngish man spoke: "Master Daniel! Wonderful to see you again!"

"And you, Mr Bittles."

They shook hands while a nurse guided Nick onto a chair.

"Hold this dear," she said, giving Nick a plastic bucket.

There were eight chairs and eight buckets. Bittles was superbly efficient.

"This is Sister Buchanan, Master Daniel."

They said hello to each other. Danny felt he had seen her before. St Mungo's? He would try and remember later.

He reversed the Portkey and flew Brian to London: then the Kalinovs; then the Tishchenkos.

Then there were several journeys with his mother's papers and some of her luggage.

Then, after a last check, he flew with his mother.

Sister Buchanan came forward with a glass.

"Your medicine, Mrs Jorrocks," she said.

Ice cubes chinked against the side of the glass.

Danny wasn't interested: he staggered to a chair, grabbed a bucket and was violently sick.

Sister Buchanan came to give him a travel-pill and a glass of water.

She bent over him and Danny knew who she reminded him of.

"Gideon's mum! You must be Gideon's mum!"

"Yes, Daniel. Gideon was so introverted until he went to Hogwarts. But he loved it there. He couldn't stop writing about you in his letters and at Christmas it was Danny this and Danny that. So, when I saw an advert for Magic Healthcare Manager for Jorrocks and Company in the Prophet, I had to apply and here I am. Blow your nose now!"

X X X

Danny and his mother had agreed that it was too risky to book five Russian boys into the Dorchester at a time when the Muggle newspapers were, as like as not, full of the Podolsk escape.

The efficient Bittles had therefore arranged for them to stay on a top-floor flat above a set of serviced offices in Pall Mall.

This had, since the erection of the building, been an Unknowable and Unmappable wizarding enclave which had seen many distinguished owners and visitors—including, Danny remembered, Voldemort himself as a young man.

Mr Jorrocks had bought the place ten years previously as a guest house for his own distinguished visitors, and a safe house for his shadier colleagues.

They travelled from Jorrocks and Company Headquarters in a Muggle van called a Sprinter—and sprint it certainly did under the expert direction of Mr Bates.

Bittles travelled with them and, on the way, Danny asked: "How's Piers getting on, Mr Bittles?"

"Very well, Master Daniel; the Muggles think a lot of him. He's not in the office much at present, as he sits his O-Levels in a month. They expect him to do well."

"That's good. No trouble with the landlords?"

"No. He seems happy there and they seem to look after him well."

When they arrived at Pall Mall, Bittles showed them round.

Mrs Jorrocks had her own bedroom, sitting-room and bathroom. The boys had a bedroom, two bathrooms and a sitting room dominated by a big-screen TV. Their bedroom was the largest room in the flat and was laid out with five double-bunks. There was some preliminary scrambling for places as all the boys wanted to sleep on top.

There were extensive staff quarters and a big kitchen with everything laid out low for the convenience of the house-elves who, of course, bowled over the Russian boys.

The domestic side was presided over by a stately couple called Mr and Mrs Swordfish.

While his friends boys explored and discovered the games and toys that a thoughtful Bittles had provided, Danny found an empty room and sat down to think quietly, with Brian looking out the window.

Any satisfaction that Danny felt about putting Kryuchkov, alias Special K, behind bars was drowned out by the revelation that Kryuchkov had been targeting Hogwarts School.

And why Hogwarts? Danny didn't believe the nonsense about espionage: Kryuchkov was targeting Harry Potter.

He considered the history: Kryuchkov had been freed from prison about the time that Wormtail was setting off to restore Voldemort.

A wizard of Kryuchkov's power would no doubt have had excellent intelligence within the London Ministry. He would have heard about Dumbledore's allegations about the Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew affair, but, unlike Fudge, would have believed them.

He would have immediately set up a plan to infiltrate Hogwarts, possibly as a pre-emptive move against a Voldemort powerbase, possibly to capture Harry Potter and use him as a bargaining-asset—or even ally—possibly moving from one reason to another as the Triwizard unfolded.

But it was Voldemort who had captured Harry and used him to recover his strength.

When it was known that, in some extraordinary way, Harry had escaped, Kryuchkov would have been torn between opening negotiations with Voldemort and beating him to Harry's recapture.

Danny guessed that, before Kryuchkov made his mind up, there would have been preliminary negotiations and Kryuchkov had only moved to insert his team after these had proved fruitless—hence the loss of a term.

Then Nick had escaped. The plan had been cancelled—then reinstated, with Yuri being inserted in time for the summer term, presumably because Kryuchkov had tracked Nick and expected to recover . . . what? Were Nick's dolls all that were needed or was Nick's presence at Hogwarts required too?

Danny would have given a lot to know the answer to this question.

As it was, he was grateful to Professor Wolland for supplying the key link which led him to believe that Harry was of more value to Kryuchkov alive than dead. He already knew that Harry was safe from assassination by Voldemort, who was intensely interested in prophecies concerning Harry.

In the first place, he would have liked to get in touch with Dumbledore, but Dumbledore was in hiding and there were few of his set that he could trust and very few of them who he could safely contact.

Then he had a bright idea: Kingsley Shacklebolt had a Muggle connection and, Voldemort's scum, with their disparagement of all things Muggle, would not know how to tap Muggle telephones.

Danny and Brian went to find Mrs Jorrocks, and she agreed to their plan.

He put on his Invisibility Cloak and, holding Brian tightly, Disapparated.

X X X

Despite the dizziness when they landed in Fulham, Danny's body knew that it hadn't had sex for a long time and that it was currently pressed against the object of that sex.

Danny had the horn.

Brian felt it jabbing against him.

"Shall we go back?" he said.

Danny laughed and, checking it was clear, removed the Invisibility Cloak.

They rang the doorbell and it was Alice who came:

She screamed genteelly and smiled delightedly "Ooh, dishy Danny! And is this her little bride-to-be? I could die for your ecaf, love. Come into my parlour."

They came in. Alice closed the door and locked Danny into an embrace.

Danny still had the horn.

Alice rubbed herself right-to-left against it and said: "Still the little lady, then!"

"Who is it?" called Dot's voice.

"Only a couple of girls. I'll send them away."

Dot poked his head through the door and gasped: "Danny, darling!"

She pushed Alice away and helped herself to a hug.

Danny's horn was still there.

"Ooh, what a lovely way to say hello to a lady! You must forgive our manners, dear. You must be Brian. I'm Dot and this is Alice."

Brian shook hands with the girls.

"Come on in you gorgeous, gorgeous girls!" said Alice.

The trooped into the living-room. It had been redecorated in sumptuous style.

"Shall I call her down?" asked Dot.

"Let her get on with her revising," said Danny, "Then I'll surprise her." He added: "Make us a cup of tea, girl," in a husky tone.

"Oh don't upset her. Mike's inside," said Dot.

"How long?" asked Danny.

"He'll be out in August," said Alice, "and I'll be at the gate."

"She's been sending him in money," said Dot.

"Only a tenner a week," said Alice, "You can stretch it a long way in prison."

"If you're lucky," said Danny and, before the girls could respond, added: "Ooh, isn't he bold?"

They went into the kitchen and watched Alice making the tea.

"You've got a lot taller, Danny," said Dot "And a bit more muscle on you . . . so to speak."

"What about Piers?"

"Wait and see. But you won't be disappointed."

"And you're all happy here?"

"Do we look miserable, darling?"

"To be honest, you both look like Cinderella when her Fairy Godmother tells her she meant a thousand midnights later."

"That's because we've got a Fairy Godmother, and that ain't all: tell her, girl."

"Oh, it's not important."

"Tell her!"

"Well, I did extras for Eastenders and now they've given me a month's trial to be a Character." said Alice.

"That's great!" said Danny, "Who do you play?"

"A bank-robber who escapes from prison to come after the bloke wot's doin' 'is missus."

Even Brian had to laugh at that one.

"Do you know? I think you could turn out to be brilliant at it," said Danny, "Do us a bit".

"Not yet," said Alice, "We forgot our manners again. Brian, darling, tell us everything about yourself."

"Nothing to tell. Half of Danny."

"A bloody good thing to be half of!" said Dot, "But getting engaged at your age, before you know what it's about . . ."

"So to speak," said Danny, amid laughter.

"Hard to explain. You just know!" said Brian.

"Even if the sex is one-sided," said Danny, "you just know."

"I think it's really beautiful," said Alice as she brought mugs of tea to them, "Help yourself to sugar. And I'm not half as romantic as Dot—he really got through the hankies when you told us. And Piers can't wait to meet Brian."

"He'll just have to!" said Danny, sipping contentedly, "How's the sex in this house?"

"I don't know the words," laughed Dot, "It's more than red-hot; it's more than white-hot."

"Just missing the Mike-component," said Danny.

"Missing Mike, yes; but not missing the Mike-component: Alice has got a new butch ome."

"You tart, Alice," laughed Danny.

"You said it girl! Go on, tell them, Alice."

"Well," said Alice, "He's called Joey. He's just a quiet little dole-scrounger, but when he gets a drink in him he goes like a tiger. I see him sipping a pint with his missus and it lasts two hours, though he's a real gentleman and buys her a couple of voddies meanwhile. And they usually go off home all meek and mild. But sometimes, he sends the missus home and comes up to me and says 'Buy us a drink, guv, me social aint come through yet,' and I know I'm for it."

"We're all for it," said Dot, "The house shakes and it sounds like there's a lion loose and then, an hour later, it starts up all over again. And in the morning it's all: 'Thanks for putting me up. Thanks for a lovely breakfast,' And he goes off politely while poor old Alice is limping about the place like polio was back in fashion."

"He does enjoy himself," said Alice, dreamily.

"What about when Mike gets out?" asked Danny.

"It'll sort itself out. I'll just have to be careful for a bit."

Danny laughed and said: "We've finished our teas. Come on Bri, let's surprise Piers.

They climbed the stairs.

Danny undressed outside Piers' door and got Brian to wiggle him until his willy was fully hard.

He knocked on the door and, without waiting for an answer, opened it a crack and stuck his willy into the room.

After a pause, he heard Piers' voice saying: "What? . . . What's that? . . . I don't believe it! . . . Is it Danny?"

They could hear a disturbance as Piers ran across the room and yanked the door open.

He looked at Danny's willy: "Danny! Darling! Where did you get that?"

He wrapped his right hand around that and his left hand around Danny and kissed him, sticking his tongue deep inside Danny's mouth.

Then he broke away and pulled Danny into the room by his willy.

Brian followed, shutting the door behind him.

"Get 'em off!" said Danny; "And you, Bri!" he added, turning to Brian.

The boys had their clothes off in a jiffy.

"This is Brian. This is Piers." said Danny.

The boys smiled at the incongruity of hand-shaking when two erect penises were saying hello for them.

Piers went to the bedside drawer and took out a tube of jelly. He sat on the bed, handing it to Danny, and said: "Do the business, Danny."

Danny sat down beside Piers: "No, you do the business, please."

He leant back, exposing his bumhole, which Piers started to anoint.

Piers' willy had grown a little, but it still had the little-boy glans which gave it a taper.

Feeling the fingers of his much-loved Piers gently probing inside him, Danny gazed at Piers' willy and felt a ripple of pleasure and a ripple of lust.

"Never mind that!" he gasped, "Stick it in now!"

Piers threw away the tube before positioning his little, dark purple tip against Danny's hole and pressing gently.

Danny wanted it so badly.

He yelled: "Now! Piers! Hard!"

Piers was as lustful as Danny. He pushed strongly and immediately started shagging powerfully.

Danny felt the exquisite pain of a penetrated rectum. His bumhole had not been stretched properly for a long time and something in his head was letting off fireworks. He knew he was going to come shortly.

In fact, it was Piers who came first. The thrill of being with Danny, the manifestation of the enhanced penis and the watching presence of Danny's enigmatic little intended were clearly enough to overpower him.

He finished his orgasm, but sportingly carried on with his thrusting, pending detumescence.

Brian grasped the situation and pushed his head under Piers' abdomen. He took Danny's willy in his mouth and started sucking.

Danny shot off immediately and Brian swallowed efficiently, being well-practised by now.

"Well, what do you think of each other?" asked Danny, when he'd stopped panting.

"We've only just met!" said Brian, who hadn't stopped yet.

"Silver's fair," said Brian.

Danny laughed: "What he means is: I told him your arse was the best, Piers."

Piers laughed too, as he pulled himself out and up: "And the engagement's still on?"

"Piers! You are tall!" said Danny, as he got up and surveyed the figure towering over him.

"Six foot, three inches," said Piers, "They've been measuring me every week. Alice says my hair'll get hoar-frost next winter."

"And your thingy's grown to match."

"Not as much as yours. I still can't believe it. You're a lucky boy Brian—no, I don't mean that: you're lucky enough just getting to tie the knot with Danny—no, I don't mean that either: I trust Danny's judgement and I'm sure you deserve him."

Piers had become quite camp since they had last seen each other.

"We'd better get dressed. The girls will be in a tizzy doing dinner for five."

"I should have phoned and I should have told them to leave it and we'd go out."

"Oh they'll be loving doing the girly thing for three men."

They went downstairs and found that, with support from the freezer, Dot and Alice had done the girly thing in style.

There were lamb chops, peppery cabbage and minted new potatoes.

Before dinner, Danny asked to make a telephone call.

He found a number for Mr and Mrs Shacklebolt, reminded them of their previous meeting and got a number for Kingsley.

There was one of these wonderful Muggle tape recorders which told him, in Kingsley's resonant voice: I am not available to take your call. Please leave your message after the tone.

Danny did not leave a message. Constant vigilance, Jorrocks!

He joined the others at the table.

They were all fascinated by Brian

"We were so pleased when Danny told us about you," said Alice, "but we didn't expect a baby chicken."

"That's the difference between love and lust," said Danny, adding: "Though in this case, it's both."

"Oh, Danny! Denmark!" said Piers, "I went to the library. You've got to be sixteen if you've got permission from both sets of parents."

"Fifteen for an unofficial ceremony."

He could hardly explain that the Danish Department of Magic was ahead of even the Danish Muggles in social legislation.

"How did you do your courting?" asked Piers, "I mean at Smeltings, going about with a younger boy from another house was equivalent to waving a banner saying: Please expel me."

"It's a pretty liberal school."

"I've never really understood about your school, Danny," said Dot, "I mean, what's it called? Where is it? Why do letters go to a PO box?"

"Dot, dear, I've told you before," said Piers, "It's partly funded by Jorrocks and Company and there's a lot of industrial secrets involved. I've met a few men and women who went there and they're trained to keep their mouths shut, so let's change the subject."

"Thank you Piers," said Danny, "There is a subject close to my heart: how's Grant?"

Mouths dropped.

"Oh, Danny, darling; we didn't like to tell you." said Alice.

Danny was alarmed: "He's not dead, is he?"

"No. He's been in prison. He's home now on bail, but he's not allowed out after seven—not that he'd want to."

"Heavens! What's he done?"

"He raped a nine-year-old boy."

"Poor old Grant! How did they catch them?"

"Catch them? Danny, he raped a nine-year-old boy."

"They would call it that, wouldn't they?"

"Danny, it's not because it was underage, it's because it was real rape. A boy he hardly knew—lured away to a wood and given the full works. And there was hospital treatment and six police cars came to arrest him."

Danny was amazed.

After the facts had sunk in, he said: "Well, we know Grant likes bumming and likes young boys; putting the two likes together takes care and compassion, but to lose patience and go for it without even being friends . . . he must be disturbed."

"And we told him that it was Okay to fancy young boys, Danny," said Piers.

Danny laughed: "Don't go feeling guilty, Piers, it is Okay to fancy young boys; it's Okay to go with them too, though you've got to be sure that they're sure. Have you seen Grant?"

"No. He didn't want us to go to the prison but he phoned from there and he phones from his home."

"What's he got to say about it."

"Not very repentant. He says the boy was gagging for it."

"He must be delusional."

"That's what his family think. They've got an expensive psychiatrist."

"At least his family's sticking with him. He's lost his school and sports, but he'll be okay—not like the other lad."

"How do you know?"

"Well, some day they'll tell Grant he was sick and did wrong and now he's cured; and they'll tell the little boy he's a victim and he mustn't let it ruin his life and then they'll keep counselling him until it does ruin his life."

There was a moment's silence, then Piers said: "Another change of subject: how's the Creeveys?"

"I'm glad to say they haven't been in prison and, whenever they raped me, I was gagging for it."

"I wish I could see them more often; tell them to come and rape me some time!"

"When they do, Dennis won't be going Eek . . . Eek . . . Eek! Your face has filled out a bit. Have you made any new friends from work and college?"

"Yeah, but not close. To be honest, come five o'clock I'm gagging for my landlords."

"Landladies," said Alice.

Danny grilled Piers about his professional life. Then the three girls talked about cultural events and the dance-clubs they sometimes visited—Miss Charlotte Horne, the Welfare Officer at Jorrocks and Company, had been quite happy to produce a driving licence proving Piers was twenty-one provided he promised not to do any actual driving.

Danny thought how wonderful it must be to live in Muggle London with so many exciting things going on. He wondered that people could want to fall out with each other and do nasty things. Then he reflected that the Magic World was just the same.

Round about eleven o'clock, the party split up, Piers offering to walk them to the tube and Danny vetoing this on the grounds that a boy with important exams approaching should be in bed already.

Affectionate goodnights were said and Danny, well-satisfied with the state of the girls' household, Apparated to Pall Mall.

They clocked in with Mrs Jorrocks and, tired out and four hours adrift of Moscow time, tiptoed into the boys' bedroom. Mr Bittles' single-bed policy had not proved popular. Two of the bunks had been pushed together with the Kalinovs snuggled together and Nicolai at the other end. Similarly, Boris and Pavel were aloft on another pair of beds. In their case, there were two inviting pillows at the foot of the bed; pillows which, one minute later, bore two heads.

"Piers has got a nice arse," whispered Brian, as his mouth sought Danny's.

— CHAPTER FIFTEEN — Horror at Hogwarts

By Thursday, the new-term feeling had worn off and school life had settled down to its regular patterns.

The watchdog scheme worked. Everywhere he went, Colin was accompanied by friends. Even when he went for a poo after lunch, Jonathan Neil stood outside the cubicle door and was not at all put out when Michael Corner entered and, having peed, muttered: "Coming in, Jonny?"

"No thanks," said Jonathan, "I'm waiting for a friend."

At tea there was much whispering at the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. Afterwards, word spread to the other houses: Prokofiev was in the news: in Herbology, he had suffered a nip from a Fanged Geranium and, quick as lightning, had destroyed the plant with a spell that no-one understood, but which was unmistakably Dark.

Professor Sprout, without even giving a lecture on Cruelty to Plants, had confiscated his wand and made him sit in the corner of the greenhouse.

At the end of the lesson, she had escorted Prokofiev to Professor Flitwick and the three of them had been absent from tea.

Lee Jordan was offering odds-on that Prokofiev would be expelled.

Terry Boot was raving about it: "Honestly! If you'd blinked, you'd have missed it. I wouldn't have believed anyone could be that quick: no perceptible reaction time and the wand just a blur. I've never such a fast wand—not even when Danny Jorrocks shot down Fred and George's Heat-seeking Snowball."

Malfoy was spouting loudly: "I don't see a problem: purebloods can and should be trusted to use all spells responsibly. I'm sure Professor Umbridge recognizes that."

Colin felt uncomfortable: Yuri had seemed a pleasant, easy-going, uncomplicated boy, interested in such harmless pursuits as photography and gayness. Yet he had shown a Proficiency in the Dark Arts which implied years of training.

Colin wondered if Yuri was already off the premises: escorted by Professor Flitwick on the Floo to the Ministry; thence (still wandless) on a Muggle aeroplane (more commission for Jorrocks and Company) to Moscow.

He felt sorry for Yuri and his parents: their ambitions scotched through ignorance of British wizarding restrictions. He felt sorry for himself too: just a glimpse of that dangly willy. He'd never know what it looked like when it was erect: he'd never know whether the hair surrounding it was straw-coloured, or whether it was as dark as the pubes of so many blond boys.

In the event, he need not have worried: after tea, Yuri was in the grounds, surrounded by a knot of curious students.

He came over to Colin and smiled.

"Colin," he said, "Come and have a talk. Let me your custodian for a few minutes."

"Didn't you read the notice?" asked Jonathan. He was now well-practised in bringing out this line with a nicely-judged combination of aggression and pity for someone who was an obvious moron.

"It's okay, Jonny," laughed Colin, "Yuri is a permitted exception—as is Alexander, by the way."

"Who is this Alexander?" asked Yuri, as they walked towards the lake.

"He's a little first-year in Gryffindor I'm friendly with."

"You must introduce him to me. I will judge whether he is worthy to be friends with you."

Colin laughed: "Do you really think it's your business?"

"Of course! If I am friends with you, I must be friends with him."

"I think that would be nice. Now tell me about this afternoon. What did Professor Flitwick say?"

"He was very kind. He understood that I had been to a different school in a different country. He told me I must never use any Siberian Magic again. He said Professor Snape could provide Aversion Potion to stop me doing it by accident. I told him I would try to practise restraint with my own resources and ask for help from potion if it was too difficult."

"But, Yuri, I don't understand. We've been to Russia with our adopted brother, Daniel Jorrocks, and none of the Russian wizards we met would have dreamt of using Dark Magic."

"I think maybe we had rogue teacher. It happens. It's very difficult getting good wizards who enjoy teaching."

"But surely you must have known it was wrong."

"How known? My teacher says okay."

"Well, felt it to be wrong."

"But where do our feelings come from?"

"From within ourselves. We are thrown into the world with feelings just for ourselves; then we see that everyone's in the same position as ourselves; so we should treat others as we would want them to treat us—with compassion and human decency. Dark Magic violates that."

Yuri thought for some moments, as they walked around the lake; then he said: "You are right, of course, and maybe some people are born feeling that way; others need to be taught—many of Slytherin, I think."

"Yes I simply can't understand why people like Malfoy—look out!"

Colin had spotted Filipe Smith on the other side of the lake.

He dived behind a small bush, drawing Yuri down with him. He peered out at Filipe Smith and his companions.

Yuri was bemused: "I know that Slytherins aren't the best company," he said, "but this seems extreme way to avoid them,"

"It's not them I'm hiding from. It's Filipe Smith."

"But he is harmless boy in my house."

"He may be harmless, but he keeps asking me out."

"So? I am your custodian. At any rate he's not after you at this moment."

"No. I wonder what he's doing talking to three Slytherins when they should all be revising their N.E.W.T.'s."

"Perhaps they are revising. Do you know their names?"

"Yeah, my brother Danny told me. The very big one's Campbell; the big one's Warrington—he's a star at Quidditch; and the scrawny one's Chessell."

"Interesting. You know that there is a Ravensclaw/Slytherin couple: White and Pucey. They are very close. Do you think . . . ?"

"Very unlikely: Danny said there were only one or two Slytherins in each year who were gay—besides, look at the body language."

The four seventh-years appeared to be debating something intensely.

"I agree," said Yuri, "Now shall we take the opportunity of being concealed to indulge?"

Colin felt a sort of void in his loins and clasped Yuri to him. They lay on their sides and started a long kiss.

He stroked Yuri's head with one hand, and squeezed his bottom with the other. Yuri pushed closer and Colin could feel their erections pressing against each other.

Yuri stretched his hand inside Colin's robe and squeezed his willy through his underpants.

"This is it," murmured Yuri, "This is real."

The sound of nearby voices ended their diversion. They moved apart and saw a group of noisy third-years walking around the lake.

They got up and walked in the other direction, passing some second-years. The girls giggled and peeked at Colin.

"Do you think that was planned pincer movement?" laughed Yuri.

"With Filipe Smith controlling operations," said Colin.

"Look, most beautiful Colin, I must do some studying now, but we will find some way to be alone. Can it be arranged for me to sleep in Gryffindor or you to sleep in Ravenclaw?"

"I couldn't do it, Yuri. Danny did that sort of thing all the time, but that's magic way beyond me. I'll ask Sea Jay. They're still holding GC meetings in secret; and they do sleepovers."

"What's GC?"

Colin explained about Gay Champions as they walked back to the castle.

"How about we do something in the dorm tomorrow straight after lunch?" he said as they passed inside.

"Yours or mine?" asked Yuri.

"There's fewer in mine and I've got my guardians to protect me."

They parted with a quick kiss.

"Try and find out what Filipe Smith's up to," said Colin.

"I will," said Yuri, "And I will remember what you said about human decency and never use Dark Magic."

X X X

Back in the common room, Colin gave Dennis a situation report.

"It's good news about Yuri; but it's not good news about Filipe Smith, Col, is it?" said Dennis.

"Can't be; not with those Slytherins involved."

"Let's tell Danny."

"Good idea."

So the brothers concocted a letter to Mr and Mrs Creevey and interpolated a note on the Filipe Smith situation.

By the time they got back from the owlery, The first-years were being packed off to bed.

Alexander came over and said: "Are you going to read me a goodnight story, Colin?"

"Yes, I'll be there in a minute."

Colin went to his dormitory to fetch his Muggle book. He came down and entered the first-year dormitory.

Alexander was in bed, with his curtains open.

"Hi," said Colin, and sat on the bed, his back resting against the headboard.

He closed the curtains, put the light out and gave himself just enough wand-light to read by.

He threaded one hand under Alexander's neck, and the boy nestled towards him.

He began to read:

St Bertrand de Comminges is a decayed town on the spurs of the Pyrenees—

"Speak up!" said a voice.

"It's a ghost story. It's not meant to be shouted," said Colin.

"I'm coming over," said the voice.

The curtains parted and pretty little Paul Smith came and sat on the end of the bed.

"Look, this is meant to send Alexander shivering to sleep," said Colin.

"Wait there!" said Paul.

He left, came back with a pillow and got in at the foot of the bed.

The curtains parted again and Euan Abercrombie appeared with his pillow.

He got in beside Paul.

James Carter came and somehow managed to squeeze in on the other side of Alexander.

"Peter, if you want to come, come now and I'll read standing up," Colin called.

There was no response from Peter Jones.

"He's asleep," said Paul.

"He's tired; he's been bumming Caerwen all evening," said Euan and the boys tittered.

"Right, settle down, here we go. . ."

St Bertrand de Comminges is a decayed town on the spurs of the Pyrenees . . .

As the tale became more frightening, the boys snuggled more closely together. Alexander turned towards him and it seemed natural for Colin to move his hand down to cup Alexander's bottom—separated by the thickness of pyjamas from the advertised really tight arsehole.

Alexander sighed and squeezed himself closer to Colin.

Two minutes into the story, James's hand slid over to feel Alexander's bottom, encountered Colin's hand and settled for an overlap.

Colin got a sudden, raging erection—his first of the evening. Was this Nature telling him that James was ready for sex and Alexander was not? How? More importantly: why? they were both thoroughly pre-pubescent—fair enough, James was taller, but still . . .

Throughout these erotic feelings and analysis, Colin had read steadily on.

By the time he had reached the end, with the gaping chest wound exposing the heart of the poor old buffer, the boys had drifted off.

Only James Carter was awake: "Uggh! Thanks, Colin. It didn't send me to sleep, though."

"You'll be able to tell them the ending, then."

"Not as well as you read it."

"Well, I'm for my own bed."

"So am I."

James got up smartly. His erect penis—probably with connivance—was sticking through his Pyjama flap.

"Sleep in mine if you want, Colin," he said.

"Better not. Goodnight James."

"Goodnight Colin."

He made his way to Dennis's dormitory and was soon tucked up in bed.

"You're dripping again, Col," said Dennis, "Did Alexander turn you on? That's nice."

"No, it was James Carter."

"Oops! That wasn't in the script."

"Lust wasn't on the script at all. I just wanted me and Alexander to feel close."

"Better sleep on it!"

Dennis stretched out face-down and Colin pushed his willy in and gave him a fierce, but short, seeing-to.

He fell asleep, still connected, on top of his brother.

— CHAPTER SIXTEEN — From London to Yorosk

Although the time difference should have helped the boys to rise early, they had had an exciting day and would all have been content to stay in bed until noon. Swordfish had his orders, though, and, at seven o'clock, gently shook Danny awake.

Danny dressed quickly and hurried out to a Muggle street-phone.

He got the real man, not the recording.

"Hello, whoever you are, you're bright and early," said Kingsley in a sleepy voice.

"It's your little nephew from Stroud. I'm passing through and thought I'd look you up. What time do you usually feed the ducks in St James's Park."

"Colour of my shirt and tie when we last met?"

"Turquoise—no tie."

"I can be flexible about time."

"How about ten o'clock?"

"See yer then."

Danny hung up.

He bought two Muggle newspapers—an idiotic one and a less idiotic one—and returned in a leisurely manner. He took his seat at the breakfast table and sat reading and sipping orange juice until his mother appeared.

"Morning dear. You can get straight back to the bathroom and use a wetted comb. Dr de Castro will be here in a moment. What will he think?"

Danny obeyed his mother and saw that the boys were slowly getting up. He noticed that the twins had slept in their new clothes to make sure they didn't vanish.

He gave them all a good tip for staying ahead of Senior Management: use a wetted comb.

When they all ready—as handsome as bullfinches and as chirpy as sparrows—Danny led them to the main room.

Dr de Castro was already there. He rose to shake hands with Daniel: "Daniel, in just a few days you have grown more. And we old ones shrink!"

He spoke in Russian.

Danny responded: "I must thank you again for my Amulet: it has been unbelievably useful this week."

He lowered his voice so his mother could not hear and whispered: "It saved my life again."

"To do good work I hear," said Dr de Castro, "That Kryuchkov is a human being and no more good can you say of him. And here is Brian, who has, no doubt, been learning Street-Russian and Mr Gogol will have to be an unteacher."

He shook hands with Brian and turned to the five Russians: "Boys, my name is Dr de Castro. I am your Wizardry teacher.

"Correction," interrupted Danny, "You are Professor de Castro and you are our Headmaster and here is your roll."

He handed over a sheet of paper.

Professor de Castro laughed and said: "A professor at last! Sit down, boys."

When all were seated, he called out:

Chaikovsky Nicolai Porfiryevich 06/07/1980

Hudson Brian William 26/11/1983

Jorrocks Daniel Timothy 04/04/1982

Kalinov Alexei Davidovich 07/01/1983

Kalinov Pyotr Davidovich 20/12/1981

Tishchenko Boris Yurevich 26/11/1983

Tishchenko Pavel Yurevich 26/11/1983

They had breakfast and Professor de Castro told the boys what was going to happen:

"Today, boys, you are going to receive Magic Wands."

There was pleasurable excitement as they chirruped to each other.

"You will be examined by one of the World's great wand-makers, Mr Ollivander. He must not know that you are Russian, so you must not speak. Sometimes he or I will ask you questions which you will not understand. You still must not speak except for words that come into your head. You will not understand these words, but you will try and appear as if you do. Do you all understand?"

He looked around the table and, seeing everyone nod, said: "We will have a little test now."

He looked hard at Pyotr, who said: "Eu não sou russo."

"Excellent, Pyotr Davidovich! You might pass for a real Portuguese."

He went round the boys, giving the twins a double dose as they were slightly off on their first attempts.

When he had satisfied himself, he rose and said, "Come boys! We are going to Diagon Alley. Mrs Jorrocks, a pleasure as always. My respects to Stephen. Danny and Brian, I will see you soon."

When they had left, the room seemed much emptier. Danny and Brian chatted with Mrs Jorrocks for a while, then Danny got up saying: "I'll be less than half an hour."

X X X

He saw Kingsley immediately. He was sitting on a bench with a bag of bird food on his lap.

Danny approached and said: "Don't talk. I'm under my Invisibility Cloak. Drop your defences and I'll put us under a joint Disillusionment."

Kingsley murmured: "What was the last thing you said to me at Stroud?"

"Nice cock."

"Defences down."

Danny charmed them both to Unnoticeability and took off his cloak.

"Nice to see you, Danny."

"And you, Kingsley."

They shook hands and Kingsley said: "What's it about, Danny?"

"It's Kryuchkov."

"Yeah, we got a message from your father on Sunday that he was looking for an alliance with Voldemort. People said that it was very bad news."

Danny suspected that people meant Professor Dumbledore.

"Then yesterday," continued Kingsley, "It was all over the Muggle news that he'd been locked up in a Muggle prison, which is excellent—as long as no-one smuggles a wand in."

Danny explained: "He had a scheme to infiltrate Hogwarts—I suspect to abduct Harry Potter and get in with Voldemort. Is anyone listening, by the way?"

Danny meant Professor Dumbledore.

"No, though I'll be seeing a lot of people later today."

"Good. Kryuchkov's plan was to send some sort of weapon—presumably nasty and Dark—into Hogwarts. The weapon was to be made undetectable by being sent in as two separate, harmless parts. Two Russian boys were to carry the parts."

"I've heard there was only one boy admitted."

"The other one ran away. It was trying to rescue him and his part of the weapon from a Russian prison that got Kryuchkov recaptured."

"Where's the other boy now?"

"In London for the day, being fitted for a wand. I've brought four other boys over for fitting; then they'll be safely back in Russia straight afterwards."

"So five Russian boys turn up in Diagon Alley the day after four hundred Russian boys break out from a Muggle prison. Won't people put two and two together?"

"It's a risk we had to take. It's not fair to deny them their wizarding birthright. We've covered up as best we can: Dr de Castro will take them to Olivander's. He's famous and everyone thinks he lives in Portugal, so the five boys will be Portuguese."

"Should be Okay. What about the boy who escaped? Did he take his bit of the weapon?'

"Here."

Danny handed over his plastic bag.

Kingsley examined the dolls and put them back together.

"It's a brilliant idea. No magical connectivity between these three bits: just three harmless, unrelated toys; but put the other toys in place and it could be anything. I'll get these tested and we might learn what they're going to be used for."

"Can you get the other bits out from Hogwarts?"

Kingsley's brow furrowed: "It's hard to get anything in or out. Fudge's number one priority is keeping control of Hogwarts. They're watching the floos and the owls. They're even watching the teachers. There is a route, but we can't use it too much. This boy: what house is he in?"

"Ravenclaw."

"That'll help. We'll try and get the stuff out, but if we fail, it's not a disaster: it'll be harmless without the bits we've got here."

"It would be interesting," said Danny, thoughtfully, "to find out who got the boys enrolled at Hogwarts. They're certainly working for Kryuchkov; if they're death eaters, it may give a clue as to the state of Kryuchkov/Voldemort relations."

"Or they may be Imperiused," said Kingsley, "These are difficult times."

"Yes," said Danny, "But it's easy getting messages in and out of Hogwarts: just send an ordinary owl, but with Muggle invisible ink used to write between the lines. Me and the Creeveys talk all the time that way."

"Good idea. Anything Muggle is beneath a lot of wizards' dignity to take seriously."

"That's how I got Kryuchkov. Now. I'd better run."

"So it was you, Danny. There was some speculation that it might be your handiwork."

"It was, indeed, me. That's why I've got to run: I need to establish an alibi. Me and Brian have been in Diagon Alley every day this week. Our man Bittles is briefing Dung and the Weasley boys—possibly at this very moment. Now I'll put on my Invisibility Cloak and fade out the Disillusionment. I suppose there's no chance of a flash from your nice cock?"

" 'Fraid not. See you, Danny. Be careful."

"See yer, Kingsley."

X X X

Two hours later, Danny and Brian were entering the Leaky Cauldron.

Danny had his Confundus ready and, as soon as they had entered the door, Tom the miserable barman saw them: "Master Daniel and Master Brian! Every day this week we've seen you. We're honoured."

There were quite a few wizards and witches who looked up on hearing Tom's words. That was good.

"Hello Tom," said Danny, "Got to make the most of our trip to London. Two pumpkin juices to go, please."

They passed through the gap in the brickwork and strolled down the alley, stopping at a stall which seemed to be selling mainly strawberries.

"Morning, Mr Fletcher," they said.

"Mornin', boys," beamed the man presiding over the stall, "Can't keep yer away, can we? Seen yer every day this week!"

This was said in the classic, penetrating manner of Muggle stage-actors. Danny rather wished he'd Confunded Mundungus, rather than relying on Mr Bittles' coaching.

"Got to make the most of our trip to London," said Danny.

"It's always good ter see you, Master Daniel; and thank you for the 'undred Galleons for you-know-what, though it didn't cover me expenses."

Mundungus was hoping for another sub, but Danny changed the subject: "This is unusual stuff to see on your barrow, Dung," he said.

"I don' do mail order an' there's no school business now the mums 'as bought their sweetikins' summer gear 'an it's too early fer 'oliday stuff, so I'm goin' seasonal."

"These look like Muggle strawbs, Dung, and there's none on the company books."

This was pure fiction, but Danny thought that a little wind-up would keep Mundungus on his toes.

"Er . . . Private deal, Master Daniel . . . no need to mention it to anyone."

"Picked by moonlight, I suppose."

"Brings out the flavour."

"Picked by house-elves, despite renting out house-elves being illegal."

"They've got a lovely touch, Master Daniel. An' they aint rented. Bloke owes me a favour."

"Owes you for something that fell off the back of a broom. Well, give us five Sickle's-worth."

"On the 'ouse, Master Daniel."

"Wouldn't think of taking advantage of an honest tradesman."

Danny paid up as the three rascals chuckled together.

He and Brian wandered off biting into the strawberries, which were delicious. Perhaps there really was something in this night-picking.

Danny pointed out where the rent boys hung out in Knockturn Alley.

Then they carefully avoided looking at the Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, setting their sights on a much superior establishment: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"It's the Jiggers!" shouted Fred or George, as they entered.

"No it's not," shouted George or Fred, "It's Danny and Brian!"

"Oh yeah . . . And they've been shopping here every day since Monday!"

Danny started to giggle—with pleasure at seeing the Weasleys again and with amazement that so many wizards should be so hopeless at acting."

"Not Monday: You only took possession on Tuesday," he muttered.

"No, we've had Verity setting things up for a week."

"Anyway, give us a hug, Fred or George," said Danny, hugging a twin.

"Thank you, George," he said, "Now you Fred."

Danny could tell the twins apart by smell.

"You're incredible," said George.

"But not as incredible as Harry," said Fred, "He can tell us apart psychically."

"I'm surprised you've got so many customers," said Danny.

"Pester power," said George, "And guilt that they've sent their kids away."

"And lots of people are buying stuff for themselves," said Fred, "though they'd never admit it—Those self-flatulant underpants are brand new and very popular, Madam. Ideal for breaking the ice and making new friends."

A motherly-looking witch looked quite interested and Fred moved in for the kill.

George's eyes were darting around the shop, so Danny and Brian said their goodbyes and left.

They retraced their steps, passed Knockturn Alley, and there was Oliver Wood, sitting at a table set outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Bittles had given him the message.

After an introduction, two handshakes, and three orders for ice creams, Danny asked: "How's married life, Ollie?"

"Bloody brilliant! Going with a bang. Recommend it to anyone. Even you two."

"So you heard then?"

"Yeah, Angelina told me. . . . Danny and Brian, can I ask you a personal question?"

The boys nodded and Ollie looked all round before asking, in lowered tones: "Is female attire involved at all?—I mean at the ceremony or during married life."

"No plans at present, Ollie, unless Brian likes the idea?"

"No. Wouldn't mind seeing Olivia, though," said Brian.

Ollie was slightly embarrassed. "Oh, so you told him . . . I suppose no secrets between husband and husband—is that what you'll be?"

"Of course," said Danny, "Have you done any of that yourself recently?"

"Only in the bedroom when the Missus is out. It took you to organise the real thing, Danny. I don't suppose you'd care for a replay, or is that out now you've found Brian?"

"It's not out in principal, Ollie, but it's impractical while we're living in Russia."

"Ah, well. Life is good, anyway."

"I heard you'd had a game for the firsts."

"Yeah. Not very successfully: I let in some stupid goals."

Oliver Wood normally played Quidditch for Puddlemere United seconds.

"Quidditch Monthly said you'd be a regular in the firsts soon," said Brian.

"And Angelina Johnson said you ought to go for a trial, Brian" said Ollie.

"Maybe in a couple of years," said Brian, "Got more pressing things now."

Silence took over as they started on their exotic ices.

Then Danny spotted a familiar figure: a youth of about twenty was mooching along the alley.

He recognized Danny and, catching his eye, so knowing that it was alright to acknowledge acquaintanceship, stopped by the table.

"Awight, Danny?"

"Alright, Darren? You look smart. Come and join us."

Darren sat down and Danny performed the introductions: "Darren; Brian Hudson, my boyfriend; Oliver Wood."

"I know Oliver; everyone knows Oliver. We all supports Puddlemere since 'e moved ter the alley."

An ice was ordered for Bent Darren and Danny asked him: "What's been happening to you, Darren? You're obviously more prosperous than before."

"Thanks to you, mate. That money you give me, I tidied meself up an' picked up a beaut of a punter. Muggle. I'm livin' in as 'is 'ouseboy now."

"What about your girlfriend?"

"I'm better off wivout 'er—specially now she's got 'erself a Crup in the kennel."

"And what brought you down to the alley?"

"Bin ter see my mate Luke McCormac—you remembers Luke don' yer?"

"Of course I remember Luke. Is he still on the game?"

"Part-time: 'e's got a reglar job looking after the animals in the Magical Menagerie. 'E worships you, Oliver—you an' Viktor Krum."

"There you are, Ollie," said Danny, "A rent boy who worships you. Might be a useful contact."

"I'll say," said Ollie, "I might just have a little look now."

He shook hands with the three others and sauntered across the road to the Magical Menagerie.

Was Danny imagining, or was there an anticipatory hint of girly wiggle in his substantial bottom?

He smiled to himself. Luke had an interesting and profitable future, if Ollie's present keenness was anything to go by.

"How's it going with the other boys?" asked Danny, "Do you still keep in touch?"

"Yeah; they scrape a living."

"No more from Mr Rowle and his friends?"

"No-one's seen Mr Rowle. One or two of 'is frien's go to the Junior Ganymede, but they won't even look at the renters. There's a lot of foreign wizards puntin' though."

"Foreigners? That's unusual."

"Well, we got used to 'em last summer fer the World Cup. This lot started turning up in January. Good punters: they does the biz quick—no extras—and they pays up—no extras there, either."

"What country are they from?"

"Well a couple of the lads seen their 'dentity books—they live in Muggle land. The books got funny writing. Spotty James sez it's Rooshian."

Brian tensed a bit but Danny kept cool.

"How many are there?" he asked.

Bent Darren thought for a moment and then said: "Must be about half a doz. You don't think they're connected with Mr Rowle's mob, do you?"

"No, I think they're a different lot. Tell you what, Darren: you're a good spy; keep your eyes open—carefully, like you did last time—and see if you can pick up anything. Make a note of anything you find and give it to the Weasleys—they're trustworthy and they'll get in touch with me if anything important crops up."

"Is that them in the new joke shop?"

"Yeah; now here's a cash advance."

Darren took Danny's money, saying: "I don' need it 'cos me sugar daddy gives me lots of Muggle pounds, but I'll take it 'cos then I'll owe yer an' I'll do a proper job."

"Good man; now I think me and Brian had better go; we've got an appointment."

"You don' fancy one on the 'ouse—you an' Brian? You're a bit of alright, you are, Brian."

Bent Darren had been ogling Brian throughout the meeting.

"No, sorry Darren; we really have to go."

The three of them walked into the Muggle World together and split up—Darren to go to his sugar daddy by Regent's Park and the two boys to Jorrocks and Company Headquarters.

"Do you think these Russians are to do with Kryuchkov?" asked Brian.

"Bloody certain; look at the timing: they turned up in January: just when the two boys were to be infiltrated into Hogwarts. And the fact that they've been kept in England means that Kryuchkov thought his one-boy solution was a goer."

At HQ, Mrs Jorrocks kissed them goodbye and, with Danny's hair freshly-combed, they took the Portkey to Yorosk.

— CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — Seven Boys in The Urals

Dr de Castro led his charges the half mile to the Leaky Cauldron. There was so much that was similar to Moscow and so much that was different, that the five boys were itching to shout comments to each other.

An early mutter was quashed by Dr de Castro and the boys had to content themselves with nudgings and pointings.

At the Leaky Cauldron, Tom the barman was subjected, though he didn't know it, to the first of two mild Confunduses for the day.

"Ah, Dr de Castro, all the way from Portugal," he said, slightly less dourly than usual, "And with five young Portuguese wizards."

They proceeded slowly down Diagon Alley, having to be chivied along by Dr de Castro—especially past Quality Quidditch Supplies, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and Gambol and Japes.

Mr Ollivander was delighted to have so much out-of-term business.

"Dr de Castro," he said, "Still using that wattle cast-off from Gregorovitch, I suppose?"

"I get by," smiled the Doctor, "But as my presence shows, I am also an admirer of the famous Ollivander. I have five boys needing a wand to choose them. First, here is a boy who is already trained."

Nicolai was quite easy to kit out, as were Alyosha and Pyotr. The twins, though, proved difficult: Mr Ollivander tried eight or nine on each of them before selecting a whopper that took an almost explosive affinity to one of them.

A trial with the other twin proved equally successful.

Fortunately, Mr Ollivander had a similar wand which also took to each of the twins.

"It's interesting," said Mr Ollivander, "These two wands are not quite twins, having hairs from different unicorns; but neither of them can tell your twins apart, Dr de Castro. I had the Weasley twins seven years ago and their wands were totally specific. I suppose you'll grow, boys, but twelve and a half inches will maybe prove cumbersome until you do. And hawthorn . . . hawthorn is a difficult wand . . . but there can be no doubt: each wand has chosen each of you."

Dr de Castro allowed Mr Ollivander to enlarge on wandlore for a few minutes then, pleading the likely starvation of the boys, said farewell.

They walked to Jorrocks HQ and Portkeyed to Danny's home in Yorosk, where after a short recovery period, they were treated to hot soup and bread.

X X X

After lunch, the boys were allowed to explore their new home. They were initially awed and unbelieving that they were really going to live in a castle.

Over the next few days, Alyosha learned some of the history:

The Jorrocks's main residence was situated on the forested western slopes of the southern extreme of the Ural mountains.

It had not always been there: originally it had been a wizard-castle in Germany. Mr Jorrocks had bought it when its owner had tragically died flying over a massive American volcanic eruption for a bet.

Under the organisation of Professor Wolland, a team of Arabian and Chinese wizards had transported the entire castle to Russia.

It had been given the most complete Protective Magic possible, and, although the family had not spent much time there, it had been the Jorrocks' home for fourteen happy years.

The castle was shaped like a square, flat U: a long central wing and two shorter side-wings were three storeys high. There were two five-storey circular towers at the wing junctions. Mr and Mrs Jorrocks slept at the top of one tower, and Brian and Danny at the top of the other.

The arrival of the two boys and two teachers in March had galvanised the staff, and no family were better cared-for in the whole of Russia.

Now there was the thrilling addition of five more boys.

As he landed with the Portkey, Alyosha had been greeted and looked after by Madam Shelepina-Healthcare who was one of three dumpy sisters employed at the castle, the others being Madam Shelepina-Matron and Madam Shelepina-Kitchen.

The sisters were of a size; otherwise they might have been Matryoshka dolls—older versions of the dolls Nick had passed to Danny.

Now Alyosha and the others had been let loose, and they explored every corner of the castle before coming back to their own special area. They kept visiting the classrooms (quickly), the common rooms (less quickly), and the study-bedrooms (with delight).

All sense of awe vanished as they bounced on the beds, looked out the windows, and raced up and down the corridor.

Twelve rooms had been laid out in the top floor of the centre wing. Danny and Brian were to abandon their penthouse and move down to join the others.

Alyosha instinctively understood Danny's reasoning in his layout. The rooms were not too spacious so he had compromised on the bed size, specifying four feet—big enough for two or three boys to sleep together; and table size—five feet—big enough for two or three boys to work together.

Danny had asked for five spare bedrooms on the grounds that, five lost boys having turned up one week, another five might turn up on the next.

For the same reason, the main common room was much larger than was required for seven boys to relax and have fun.

Danny explained that every bedroom had a simple Muggle bolt on the inside, so boys could have as much privacy as they wanted. In addition, the entrances to the wing were bolted so that adults wouldn't accidentally wander in at the wrong moment.

Having established their territory, the new arrivals started games of hide-and-seek and tag.

There were happy yells and squeals as the five boys raced all over the castle, enjoying safety and freedom for the first time in their lives. They were joined by two nice ladies called Mrs de Castro and Mrs Gogol and soon feminine shrieks were added to the childish, but masculine, sounds, as everybody enjoyed the fun.

The boys delighted in learning the names of the humans and house-elves they encountered.

Romping had reached a peak, when a rumour or a feeling spread: Danny's here.

They all raced down to the Entrance Hall and found Danny clutching a bucket and debating whether or not to be sick. Brian had not suffered at all.

They sat down around Danny, offering him barracking and sympathy.

By tea-time, Danny thought he might be able to manage a cuppa, and the seven boys walked through to the main Dining Room.

It was pandemonium, and, left to themselves, the boys would have descended on the over-the-top spread like starlings on a chucked-out chicken carcase.

Dr de Castro was up to the task and imposed his authority: "Boys, quiet, please! We will stay silent except for requesting tea from Smerdyakov. The ladies will be served first."

"A large cup of tea with lemon, Smerdyakov, please," said Mrs de Castro, a matronly lady of unmistakably Jewish appearance.

Smerdyakov, a sort of combined concierge, major domo and butler, nodded to a house-elf who poured from the samovar and passed a glass inside a decorative silver holder to Smerdyakov who laid it politely at Mrs de Castro's right hand.

When everyone had been served tea, Dr de Castro invited them to nominate their preferred delicacy.

"A salmon and cream cheese on bread, please, Smerdyakov," said Mrs de Castro.

Kosher food preparation was achieved by magic, rather than by the cumbersome methods of Muggles.

Smerdyakov served Mrs de Castro.

A pancake with peppered beef, please, Smerdyakov," said Mrs Gogol.

"One of them things, please, Smerdyakov," said Alexei.

"Pastry with tomato and cured pork, Sir? Certainly," said Smerdyakov.

When everyone had been served, Dr de Castro said: "Now boys, remember to chew everything well and not to open your mouth while chewing. Between mouthfuls you may make polite conversation."

The boys were allowed only three more rounds of dainties, but were then dismissed, bursting into an immediate resumption of their happy babble.

Danny led the boys to the Owlery, where they witnessed a happy reunion with Tickles, his Little Owl. The boys took it in turns to perform the eponymous, and much-appreciated action.

Danny then led them upstairs and showed them the contents of their cupboards.

As well as spare Muggle stuff, there were sets of wizards' wear for each boy. The robes had to be tried on at once. As always happens with fancy dress, the wearers' personalities changed subtly.

"Let's ask Professor if we can have our wands now," said Alyosha, who was longing to show off his skill to Pyotr.

"He'd say no," said Danny, "he'll want to assess each of you very carefully."

"Please can I borrow your wand, Danny?" asked Nick, "Just for a quickie. I've been aching to get a wand in my hand for months."

"Here."

Nicolai took off his wizards' hat and succeeded first time in elevating it for a moment.

The other six cheered and clapped and Nick flushed with pleasure.

"You'll do even better tomorrow with your own wand," said Danny.

Alyosha looked longingly as Nick passed the wand back.

"Okay, Spaniel-eyes," laughed Danny, "Just one go, so concentrate hard."

Alyosha took the wand, took a deep breath, and managed to give Nick's hat a good twitch.

There was more applause and Pyotr hugged him.

"My little bro is truly a wizard!" he shouted.

"Something else to see," said Brian and led them to the conservatory built onto the South Wing.

He opened a cupboard, and they saw a collection of old-fashioned brooms. Two of them were well-used—they learned later that they were Brian's old broom and Danny's much loved Siberian broom—the only one that he could stay aloft on for any length of time.

But Alyosha only had eyes for the six pristine brooms. One of them bore the legend Nimbus 2001. He guessed this was Brian's. The other five were identical, except for personalised initials. He realised he was looking at his very own Comet 260.

"Broomsticks!" said Pyotr, "But broomsticks are for witches, not wizards!"

"Do you have to be gay to use them?" asked Alyosha.

"No," laughed Danny, "It's a Muggle myth that only witches fly on brooms, though I suspect that having at least a bit of Gay in you helps—not that it's helped me."

"Can we fly up now, Danny?" asked Nicolai.

"Better wait for the first official lesson," said Danny.

A gong sounded, and the boys, already conditioned to the sound, ran to the Dining Room.

"Have you washed your hands?" asked Madam Shelepina-Matron.

They ran to obey, the twins, on Danny's advice using a nailbrush, which was just as well as hands were inspected when the boys returned.

Over supper, Dr de Castro explained his pedagogic plan:

"We will probably have to recruit another tutor but, in the interim, from me you will learn wizardry, supported by Daniel. Brian will continue to learn Russian from Professor Gogol, also with help from Daniel. Professor Gogol will also tutor our five natives in classical Russian language and Russian literature. In addition, you boys will learn English, which is the main international language for Muggle and magic worlds. And, of course, brooms: you will learn flying from Smerdyakov with support from Brian."

"Can we start on the brooms after supper?" asked Pyotr.

"Can we use our wands, please?" asked Nicolai.

"No, tonight relax and feel at home. Tomorrow, breakfast at eight and work at nine. Now enjoy your supper."

X X X

There was still enough light for a quick look around the grounds.

At the front, a drive passed through shrubs before splitting into two parts leading to the Main Door and the North Door.

West of the drive was a Quidditch pitch—half-size, but with full-size posts.

To the east of the castle, a huge stretch of lawn led to a river. There was a bridge over the river leading to a smaller stretch of lawn, then dense forest.

The river, swollen with the spring meltwater, was fast and deep.

"Looks a bit dangerous," said Nicolai.

"Yes, but it's not," said Danny, "There's a tribe of Occult Octupuses living in the water. If anyone falls in, they wrap a tentacle or two round him and lift him onto the bank."

"I wouldn't like to risk it," said Pyotr.

Danny laughed: "I've got a friend called Dennis. He was here last year and jumped in the water time and time again, just for the pleasure of being rescued."

It was suddenly dark, and the seven of them went back to the castle and gathered in the common room.

They huddled in one corner and reviewed the day's happenings.

"One story we haven't heard is from you, Boris and Pavel," said Danny, when there was at last a break in the conversation.

The twins told their tale, seamlessly switching narration from one to the other:

"We never knew our parents. We lived with Gran."

"And then she got sick and had to go to hospital."

"And we looked after ourselves, but when she died, there was no money to pay the rent."

"And they tried to put us in a State Orphanage."

"But we weren't bloody buggering well having that."

"And we've lived on the streets for two years."

"Whereabouts?" asked Alyosha.

"Turgenevskaya metro and the streets around it."

"Good area," said Alyosha, "But it's all run by a horrible gang; didn't you have to join up?"

"We weren't bloody buggering well having that either."

"Then how did you not get beaten up or killed?"

"Somehow, they could never corner us."

"In the end, they just left us alone."

"What about at night, when you were asleep," asked Pyotr.

"We always found somewhere quiet and we did . . ."

The twins giggled.

"Did what?" said Pyotr.

"Naughty Hedgehog."

"Show us," said Danny.

The twins giggled again, and pulled down their underpants. They turned themselves top-to-toe on their sides and each twin took the other's willy in his mouth.

Alyosha gasped. A mutual blow-job. He'd never imagined it, but it seemed a logical gay thing to do.

Then an extraordinary thing happened: the twins blurred, and vanished completely.

"Can anyone see them?" asked Danny.

Nobody could.

"Can you see them?" asked Brian.

"In a shimmering, faint sort of way," said Danny, "But I've had plenty of wizard training."

The twins made themselves visible, but carried on sucking for a couple of seconds.

When they uncoupled with a titter, their little willies were stiff. Alyosha guessed that every willy in the room was stiff.

He was elated: if you had to do gay things as part of magic, then whether or not you were gay didn't come into it. Perhaps he would be required to suck Nicolai's willy and bury his nose in all that bright orange hair.

Danny took his mind off sex by saying: "What Boris and Pavel did is called a Disillusionment Charm. It's a very difficult charm and I've never heard of it being done without a wand before. When wizards get emotional, strange things can happen; but the twins have been able to control their effects. Maybe it's like Nick and Pyotr doing a Confundus together. We'll have to experiment.

"How come you didn't freeze, sticking your naked bums out like that?" asked Pyotr.

"Naughty Hedgehog keeps us warm said a twin."

"Wow!" said Nicolai, "Concealment, and protection against the cold and goodness knows what other dangers; and all without a wand."

"How did you get to be in prison?" asked Danny.

"There were men watching us."

"We thought they were the Militia, but they never tried to pull us in."

"Then one day, one of them said we could get a place on an elite government training scheme."

"But we didn't fall for that one."

"We told him that his mother was shagged by a rat."

"Then next day the Militia did come for us."

"So I stabbed one."

"And I stabbed the other."

"So we ended up inside."

"And then we ended up outside."

"And then we met our parents."

"And lived happily ever after."

There were cries of assent; then Danny said: "I think you were probably right, Nick: they were probably trying to get the twins into that Butyrka place."

"There can't be two elite government training schemes," said Nick.

The conversation moved on to Quidditch and Brian started to explain the game.

Alyosha missed a lot because a stray thought came into his mind: although he and his brother were not twins, they were brothers, and of similar height; it was physically possible for them to do Naughty Hedgehog together.

They would do it to generate powerful magic, but, as the image came into his mind, he felt an eruption of lust and his middle seemed to leap up of its own will.

"What's up, Alyosha?" said Pyotr, "Did you fall asleep?"

Alyosha's face was burning. What if his brother guessed that he wanted to do it for another reason? Pyotr was meant to be the gay one, and even he didn't do that with Nick.

It was an awkward moment, but it passed and the boys chatted on.

Events were terminated when a silvery, misty hen appeared and told them, in Madam Shelepina-Matron's voice: "Time for bed, boys."

There was no astonishment: they all knew that, in the world of magic, anything could happen. There was no dissent, either: it had been a long day, and a good sleep would be welcome.

X X X

It wasn't until he was within the top-floor passageway, that Alyosha consciously grasped the implication of the bedroom arrangement. He had been taken with the newness of everything, and thrilled to have a room of his own.

Now his heart sank: he didn't want to sleep by himself.

He had spent two nights close to his brother. It had been Heaven. He wanted nothing more than to be as close as that to Pyotr forever, keeping each other warm and safe. Knowing that he was in the next room was not the same thing.

He walked into the room with a trembly step. He would cry later; he knew he would.

Someone entered behind him.

He turned and saw Pyotr, who, oblivious to his brother's emotional turmoil, said cheerfully: " Room and room about'll be fun. Which one tonight?"

Then Alyosha started crying. Six months of suppressed stress had burst out.

Pyotr took him in his arms and squeezed him.

Alyosha squeezed back and cried even harder.

They stood for ages with Pyotr stroking him.

He tried to speak: "P-Petya . . . I'm sorry . . ."

"Shh . . . Shh. You've had a hard time, Alyosha. But it's all fine. Kalinovs together. Come on: into your jarmies."

With Pyotr's help, he undressed and put his pyjamas on.

Hand-in-hand, they went next door and Pyotr put on his own pyjamas.

Hand-in-hand, they had a pee; hand-in-hand they brushed their teeth; hand-in-hand they went to bed in Pyotr's room. The last bit was easiest.

During all this time, Alyosha had been vaguely aware that the twins were running up and down the corridor.

"Cradle," said Pyotr, laughing.

"What?"

"Look, they are going to sleep like babies."

Alyosha saw that Danny, his wand still in his hand, had organised a small bed to lie crossways at the foot of his own bed. As good parents, Danny and Brian would keep their children near them through the night.

Brian was already in bed—Danny's bed. He was sitting up smiling at the fun. He hadn't bothered with pyjamas and his naked chest reminded Alyosha of the snaky willy lower down.

He had that lustful feeling again, and was glad that Pyotr drew him away.

They went into Pyotr's room, closed the door, got into bed and put out the lights.

He was wondering if Pyotr would mind being cuddled all night, but before he could move, Pyotr had pulled him into an embrace.

They were lying face-to-face. Pyotr had one arm around Alyosha's neck and was stroking his back with the other.

He slipped his arm over and pressed a hand against his brother's bony back.

"Don't leave me again, Petya," he whispered.

"Never! No cops; no going hungry; no shitty Roman."

Alyosha wanted only one thing: to make his brother happy; and the only positive thing he could do was to give him those wonderful feelings.

It seemed quite natural to move his hand back and feel Pyotr's willy. It was hard. His hand groped its way inside the piss-flap and closed around the shaft.

"I've never felt you before, big brother," he said.

Pyotr gave a gentle twitch and whispered: "Do it now, little brother."

Alyosha knew about willies. He moistened the end the end of Pyotr's with saliva and began to rub the foreskin to and fro.

Pyotr moaned and contorted as he too found his brother aroused and started stimulation.

Alyosha had never felt so happy in his life. Soon he would get those wonderful feelings and give them to his brother; and his brother would be doing the same to him.

This moment made the whole dismal story of his life worth suffering.

His whole body seemed to tingle, but mostly some area deep behind his willy. He was conscious of his brother's chest rubbing against his and . . . could it be? Was he getting a sexy feeling in his nipples?

He had no time to analyse this extraordinary phenomenon as Pyotr's breath deepened and he was moaning; even without the sounds, Alyosha's practised hand could sense when Pyotr started to come. He slowed down through Pyotr's orgasm, finally stopping.

Pyotr continued wanking him and there it was: the wonderful, overwhelming feeling. Once again, he was flying ten miles high, and even after he landed, there was a warm glow as his body relaxed and his mind was taken over by his deep love for his brother.

They both lay still. As Pyotr's stiffie went down, Alyosha felt stickiness.

"Pyotr! I think you shot!" he shouted.

They put on the light and examined Pyotr.

There was a tiny dab of clear fluid spread over the tip.

Pyotr gave his willy a little squeeze and, before their eyes, a tiny globule emerged from the little hole.

"Let's show Danny!" he said, waddling out into the corridor.

The door was open and the bedside lamp was on. Danny was reading; the twins were asleep; Brian might be sleeping too: they could not see, as he was totally hidden by the duvet.

"Look!" said Pyotr, presenting himself for Danny's inspection.

Danny touched Pyotr with the tip of his finger, drawing out a thin, viscid thread,

"Congratulations, Pyotr," he said, "that's seminal fluid; and when your balls start to work in a few weeks, you'll be producing the full Merlin."

He licked the tip of his finger; then he licked the tip of Pyotr's willy.

"No taste; as usual," he said.

Goodnights were said and the brothers returned to Pyotr's room to snuggle up again.

Then Alyosha had a thought: "What about Nicolai?"

"He can come the full Merlin."

"No—I mean yes. His balls must be full, unless he's wanked already. You ought to empty them for him."

"Yeah, I should have thought of that. Coming to watch?"

"Was Marx a Marxist?"

Nick's door was closed. Pyotr knocked.

"Come in, idiots!"

They entered and Nick said: "You don't need to knock. I only closed the door to keep out the sound of these kids."

Nick was sitting up in bed reading a magic book he had picked up in the library.

Without saying a word, Pyotr crossed the room, dropped his pyjama bottoms, and lay face-down on the bed.

"Are you sure?" said Nick.

"Of course we're sure, idiot!" said Pyotr.

Nick got out of bed and dropped his own bottoms, revealing the little white willy that Alyosha was getting to know.

He placed both his hands on Pyotr's bum, kneading and squeezing each cheek. The action was clearly inspirational, as Nick's willy cantilevered itself to stiffness in a series of pulses.

Nick moistened his willy, positioned it between Pyotr's cheeks, and pressed.

It was not a thick willy, but it was a lot thicker than a finger, and as it slid into Pyotr, Alyosha reflexively tightened his own anus.

Pyotr showed no sign of discomfort, though—this was, after all, shag number four hundred and eight, Alyosha remembered.

Nick's milky-white bum was moving up and down now. Alyosha remembered that it was this sight that had caused Danny to come in his underpants at Podolsk.

The memory and the current goings-on gave stiffened Alyosha again.

He pulled out his willy and started to wank.

He reached out his other hand and stroked Nick's bum. Then he pressed down and squeezed, first one cheek and then the other.

Nick's bum was hard. There was not an atom of fat there. It was as hard as Nick's willy—or Alyosha's.

Continuing to wank, he one-handedly parted Nick's cheeks revealing a purply-brown hole surrounded by wisps of orange hair. The hole was wrinkly and, even had you not known that it was designed to stretch as turds passed out and willies passed in, you would have guessed it.

It was the first bumhole Alyosha had ever seen. Even when a ten-year-old boy called Tomas had once charged ten kopeks to let other children watch him shitting, he had not seen Tomas's hole. Alyosha had not been very interested but, surprisingly some of the girls had been.

Tomas, he reflected, was now high up in a gang; it would have needed a lot more than ten Kopecks now.

Another memory came back to him: Miss What's-her-name at school had told them that what distinguished humans from animals was brain-power and opposable thumbs.

He smiled as he thought of his teacher's probable reaction had she known how he was currently using his opposable thumb; and that his super-evolved brain was thinking how supremely pleasant it would be to stick his unopposable willy into Nick's inviting, mysterious hole.

He wondered if Nick would mind him pushing a finger in, but the thought was overtaken by events as Nick started to come.

It had taken him much less time than before and it was much more vigorous. Alyosha reflected that Nick, who was used to two or three a day, had been on the subs bench for two days.

Nick seemed to agree: after a last thrust and a last groan, he said: "Bloody hell! I needed that!"

He pulled out of Pyotr and lay face-down, his bum as attractive as ever.

"Bank," said Pyotr, and he patted Nick's bum before wishing him goodnight and leading Alyosha out the room.

Back in bed, the boys resumed their nestling position.

Alyosha put his hand inside Pyotr's pyjamas but, this time, at the back rather than the front.

He found Pyotr's bumhole. It was very wet: a lot of cum had leaked out.

This was dirty; it was the sort of thing punters had asked him to do, but he would never have anything to do with arses—his own or any punter's.

He felt sleep approaching and kissed his brother.

"I love you Petya," he murmured.

"I love you, Alyosha," said his brother, and he too slipped his hand down and found a brotherly hole.

In this position, the brothers, as near to Heaven as any two boys could be, drifted into sleep.

— CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — Snapish Problems for Colin

Colin always woke up in a cheerful mood.

Today, he was even bubblier than usual: it was Friday; he was going to have it off with Yuri; he had enjoyed spending time with the love-stricken Alexander; he might get an owl from Danny.

He bounced downstairs, bounced through breakfast and bounced into Transfiguration.

He found it hard to concentrate during the lesson and, to his chagrin, Professor McGonagall kept him behind for a pep-talk.

There was only five minutes of break left by the time he was released, and he ran quickly outside to say hello to Dennis.

However, he was immediately nabbed by Sea Jay and Jonathan Neil.

"There's been a development in the Filipe Smith situation," said Sea Jay, "He came up to us at the start of break and said he'd admired us for a long time and he'd like to be our friend."

"Wow!" said Colin, "He didn't fancy me for long, did he?"

"That's what I said," continued Sea Jay, "and he said that he thought it might be difficult approaching the two of us, but he had intended to ask you to put in a good word."

"Sounds believable. What did you say?"

"We told him we'd think it over," said Jonny.

"Colin, this really wants talking through," said Sea Jay, "we'd better do that during lunch-hour."

"I'm busy this lunch-hour, and so are you. Remember."

"Well, this evening, then."

"Yeah, Okay."

Break was over and they set off for Charms.

Again, Colin was not at his best, but, with some help from Ray Kelly, he avoided being told off more than once by Professor Flitwick.

Defence against the Dark Arts was easier—easier for everyone, in fact: you only needed to use half your brain in Umbridge's lessons.

At lunch, he could think of nothing except Yuri, and his willy was quivering in anticipation.

The expected colouration of a grey day was not to be: Filch, the caretaker, slumped in and, after addressing someone at the Slytherin table, came to Gryffindor and announced: "Creevey, C. and Neil to report to Professor Snape's office immediately after lunch."

"Damn!" said Colin, "What do you think it could be?"

"Whatever it is," laughed Jonny, "it won't involve awarding points to Gryffindor, that's for sure!"

Colin turned to his brother: "Den, you'd better present my apols to Yuri."

"What if he wants me as a sub?"

Colin giggled: "Then give me a full report afterwards."

They finished their meals, and Colin and Jonny crept like snails unwillingly down to Snape's basement realm.

They were accompanied by a Slytherin fourth-year, Mary Plumbley, whose presence suggested that the quality of their work had something to do with it.

Jonny knocked on the door and Snape opened it almost immediately.

"You three," he said, with his customary sneer, "wait there."

They shuffled their feet for five minutes; then another five.

But for the female presence, the two boys might have had a communal wank, but as it was, the three of them made desultory conversation about the forthcoming big game.

The time for afternoon lessons was approaching before Snape appeared again, handed small scrolls to each of them and retired wordlessly.

Colin read:

The following students produced totally inadequate essays on the Deflating Draught. They have a second chance, and may avoid detention by delivering a competently rewritten essay by Monday evening.

Creevey, C.

Neil

Plumbley

"That's not fair!" said Colin.

"Yeah, he's effectively already given us a detention," said Jonny.

"He could have given us these notes straight away."

"Or sent them with Filch."

They went to their afternoon lessons in a bad mood.

Colin's day stayed unpleasant: in Herbology, he made an absolute pig's ear of re-potting Bouncing Bulbs. Professor Sprout had heard mutterings involving the word Snape and was reasonably kind to Colin, merely murmuring: "You really must try and concentrate more, Creevey."

The evening meal passed without incident, except for Colin catching Yuri's eye and mouthing: "Sorry!"

X X X

Sea Jay had taken charge and convened a meeting in the dormitory at seven thirty.

He also invited Dennis, together with Adam Watts and Adrian Pucey—two boys whom Danny had rated as completely trustworthy.

Sea Jay began by relating the week's doings by Filipe Smith.

He summed up: "So, despite his N.E.W.T.'s, Filipe Smith is discreetly consorting with senior Slytherins, who are also in the middle of their N.E.W.T.'s. And he has, at the same time, been making friendly approaches to members of this dorm. And these same senior Slytherins are the ones who, last October, conspired with Malfoy to get Harry Potter expelled—we don't know the details as Danny couldn't tell us."

"But how's he going to get Harry expelled by making friends with someone in this dorm?" asked Ray, "I could understand it if he was chasing people in Harry's dorm."

"My guess is that it's all to do with Gay," said Stewart Appiah, "This year there's been loads of unexpected gays crawling out the woodwork—sorry that sounds offensive—a lot of gay butterflies emerging from their chrysalises."

"You can never tell," said Adrian, "but I would be surprised if any of Warrington, Campbell and Chessell were gay, let alone all of them."

"What about Filipe Smith?" asked Ray, "Adam, he's in your house so you must know something about him."

"We're not as sex-mad as Hufflepuff," said Adam, "but we've always been tolerant of gays and he's never shown any signs—just the opposite, in fact: he's had girlfriends, and rumours say he's a little too free with his hands."

"So we come back to it being a plot against Harry," said Sea Jay.

"And to stop it, we'll have to find out what it is," said Ray.

"How?" asked Jonny and Colin simultaneously.

"By leading him on," said Ray.

"Oh, no!" said Colin, "I was hoping for a romance with Prokofiev, and I'd never be able to hide it, and they're in the same house, so it might be awkward."

"Don't worry, Colin," laughed Ray, "I was thinking more of a double-barrelled approach."

"It that's what it takes . . ." said Jonathan

"We're up for it," said Sea Jay.

"You might have to make the supreme sacrifice," said Ray.

"You mean a fate worse than death?" said Sea Jay, "We'd do it if we had to, wouldn't we Jonny?"

"Willingly!"

"And you'd be prostituting yourselves for Harry," said Ray.

"Yeah, though I must admit I'd rather prostitute myself to or with Harry," said Jonny.

"Besides," said Sea Jay, "Our Filipe's got his attractions. I can't expect you and Stewart to see them, Ray, but he's quite a hunk in a subdued sort of way; and it sounds like he's got plenty of Dragonfire in his naughty bits."

"Yeah, we wouldn't mind if he was a little too free with his hands," said Jonathan.

I forgot to tell you," said Colin, "I was with Prokofiev when we were spying on those four."

"He might be in with them," said Stewart.

"He's have to be a brilliant actor. Danny always said trust your heart."

"He was caught wand-handed using a Dark Spell," said Ray.

"That's the way his school taught him," said Colin.

"A Russian school: why, after all these years should, a Russian boy turn up just when You-Know-Who's around with his nasty plots and gangs?" said Stewart.

"I don't think he's got anything to do with You-Know-Who," said Colin.

"I don't think so either," said Jonny, "Why should You-Know-Who sneak in a Russian boy when he's got dozens of British boys here already?"

"I think you're probably right," said Ray, "If he were one of You-Know-Who's agents, he'd have been trained not to openly use Dark Magic on his fourth day at Hogwarts."

"Nevertheless," said Stewart "By their fruits ye shall know them: both he and Smith are linked in that they've both been chasing Colin."

"So've half the school!" said Dennis, suddenly interested.

Ray asked: "Adam, do Smith and Prokofiev have any contact within Ravenclaw?"

"None at all. I think Prokofiev's genuinely bowled over by Colin."

"Course he is!" said Dennis.

Adam continued: "As I was leaving, he was asking Padma Patil and Mandy Brocklehurst whether Colin's Snape business was just an excuse to get out of seeing him."

"And I know what she told him," said Dennis, "She's very clever."

"There will be a link," said Colin, "I asked Yuri to keep an eye on Filipe Smith and try and find out what he's got to do with the Slytherins."

"Adrian, you've been very quiet. What do you think?" asked Sea Jay.

"I believe Prokofiev is genuine and I find Smith's sudden friendliness with Slytherin seventh-years very suspicious. I'll keep a watch out, but my track record's bad: I never noticed anything at all when they were conspiring against Harry Potter before."

"That's understandable," said Sea Jay, "that was Malfoy and the Slytherin seniors doing the conspiring: it would appear to any onlooker just to be mutual sucking-up."

"Ugh!" said Dennis, and they all laughed.

"Anyone got any other thoughts," asked Sea Jay.

"Only that we've told Danny everything," said Colin "so we might hear from him tomorrow."

"Good," said Ray, "He's easily the most experienced of us."

There was more laughter: of the eight boys there, Danny Jorrocks had had repeated sex with six, and it wasn't for want of asking that he'd missed out on Ray and Stewart.

"On that note, I declare the meeting closed," said Sea Jay.

"Yeah, I've got three hours' or more of revision to do," said Adrian, "Bloody N.E.W.T.'s!"

They went down the stairs and went into the common room.

The first-years mobbed Colin with requests for a story.

"Can I have last night's again, please, Colin?" pleaded Peter Jones, "I missed it and it sounds brilliant."

"I bet Caerwen Bach's bumhole was brilliant, Pete!" said Euan Abercrombie, flinging an arm round his friend.

"I thought everything about last night was brilliant," said James Carter, and Colin suddenly got that surge of lust again.

Colin thought that, for a straight pre-pubescent, James was amazingly forward.

"There'll be no story tonight," he said, "I've got an essay to do for Snape and it aint gonna spoil my weekend. Anyway, stories are for Alexander: he's my special friend and the rest of you are guests."

As usual, Alexander looked as though he couldn't believe his luck.

Hermione was sitting with Harry and Ron when Colin and Jonathan approached.

"Hermione," said Colin, "Me and Jonny have got a rewrite for Snape on DeflatingDraughts. Can you save us time and give us some pointers, please?"

"I'll show you my notes if you want," said Hermione, "but must of your time'll be taken up in making sure your essays look different."

Colin laughed: "We learned to do that very early on. Snape doesn't miss a trick, does he?"

Five minutes later, Colin and Jonathan were hard at work in the library.

X X X

On Saturday morning, the two brothers walked down to breakfast together.

Dennis was walking stiffly: after such a stressful day, Colin had felt a repeated need for sexual release, and he had gone hard at Dennis three times through the night.

It had mainly been at Dennis's request: Dennis had sensed Colin's need and demanded repeated bum-stretchings.

"Awright, Den?" whispered Colin, as they entered the Great Hall.

"It's a lovely, lovely, lovely pain, and I can't get enough of it, Col."

Without thinking, they held hands, then jumped apart as though hit by Stinging Spells.

They looked for Umbridge and then laughed.

Sea Jay had observed this and commented: "That's what that filthy Toadface stands for: elimination of all normal human feelings. If it's any consolation, Dennis, Jonny's walking like you this morning."

The owls arrived, and Yes! there was something from Danny.

Poor Mrs Creevey had needed to work hard: it was a long communication.

The brothers hurried up to the fourth-year dormitory to develop the letter.

They pressed together and read:

YURI PROKOFIEV BAD ORIGIN BUT BELIEVED HEART IN RIGHT PLACE. ASK HIM ABOUT FRIENDS AT SCHOOL AND SEE WHAT HE SEZ. THEN TELL HIM I LIVE WITH NICOLAI CHAIKOVSKY AND SEE WHAT HE SEZ. IF HE GIVES YOU THE FULL STORY (YOU'LL BE ABLE TO TELL) HE'S OK. IF HE DOESN'T DROP HIM TO BE SAFE.

FILIPE & SLYTHERINS BAD NEWS. NOT GAY. MUST BE NASTY. ONLY ONE POSSIBLE TARGET. KEEP CLOSE TO FILIPE.

QUIETLY PASS MESSAGE TO SCOTTISH LADY:

TELL PEOPLE INFLUX OF RUSSIANS TO LONDON LAST JANUARY. STILL THERE. NOT BELIEVED TO BE CONNECTED TO SCUMBAG.

MUCH LOVE FROM ME & BRIAN.

P HAPPY FOR HP E4CC E4CD

They congratulated each other that they had got it right: Yuri was probably a goody; Filipe a baddy—and they already had plans for keeping him close.

They decided, for discretion, that Colin should go and see Professor McGonagall alone.

He knocked on the door, and was invited in and given a seat.

"Creevey," said the Professor, looking at her sternest, "I'm glad you've come; I was going to send for you anyway.

"I learn from my colleagues that, even after our discussion yesterday, you still showed a disappointing lack of application in your classes."

"Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Yes, Miss. No, Miss. I had a bad start to the term. Then yesterday was just an awful day. I want to put it behind me, Miss, and start properly again on Monday."

"Is anything wrong, Creevey? . . . Anything upsetting you?"

"No, Miss."

"I saw your notice saying that you were concentrating on your work. That's good in itself, but it does suggest to me that you are being harassed. I will not have my students harassed."

"It's not harassment, Miss, it's just so many people want to be my friend. But we've sorted it now, Miss, and everything's OK."

"That's good, Creevey. I think being friends with Jorrocks protected you from distractions in the past, and when you write to him, I hope you solicit his advice."

"How did you know that we wrote to him, Miss?"

"Jorrocks himself told . . . a friend about Muggle invisible ink. Even good-hearted wizards and witches are liable to overlook Muggle solutions."

"Actually, Miss, Danny sent a message to you this morning. That's really why I'm here. I was to ask you to tell people that there was an influx of Russians in London last January. They're still there and Danny doesn't believe them to be connected to You-Know-Who."

"Was that all?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Very well; you may go, Creevey; and remember: you are not Danny Jorrocks. He has great gifts. You are a competent wizard who needs to work hard at his studies, without allowing himself to be distracted."

"Yes, Miss."

Colin left, and decided that Professor McGonagall was right. He decided to get his head down in the library—not just the Snape essay, but all the other subjects too.

He took the risk of working without guardians, though Dennis appeared occasionally like a puppy-dog checking its human was still around, before going off for new gambols.

He worked all day, with a break for lunch, and by the time of the evening meal, his head was spinning. He'd done enough, though, to permit himself a Sunday off. His essay for Snape was a thing to be proud of: well worth an "O" for "Outstanding", though, as he was in Gryffindor, he expected an "E" for "Exceeds Expectations", or even an "A" for "Acceptable".

"What we doing this evening?" asked Dennis at dinner.

"Anything involving running around. I've been sitting down cooped up all day, and my bum's sore."

"Dennis giggled: "What goes round, comes round!"

"Let's have a game of Lawn Chins," said Sea Jay.

Chins (named as a sort of reverse of "Snitch") was played with a Muggle tennis ball, bewitched so that it chased players, rendering them incapable of moving when it hit them. A hit on a previously immobilised player released him or her from the charm and they could take part in the game again.

The game was a team game, the object being to lure the Chins through your opponents' goal.

The game involved a lot of physical effort and a good deal of quick thinking. At any moment, different members of a team might be avoiding the Chins; diverting a Chin towards one of his opponents or one of his frozen team-mates; obstructing an opponent or attacking goal—using the Chins's characteristic of always going for the nearest player, two players could lure it upfield by executing a pair of interlocking sine waves—Muggles would have called them repeated Scissors moves. Of course, the opposition would play so as to obstruct such moves.

Chins had originally been played on broomsticks; this was banned when the annual death rate reached double figures, though illegal games, attracting betting with large quantities of stake-money, were rumoured to take place on remote moors. Old-time wizards and witches swore there was no sight in sport more beautiful than two players executing a perfect three-dimensional sine wave—a Double Helix as it was known, believed to have some mystical significance.

Everyone thought a game of Lawn Chins was a good idea. They agreed to play with the Chins set at Juvie, which was a relatively slow speed. Available speeds ranged from Fattie to Cardie, the latter having reference to cardiac arrests, rather than cardigans.

To clear his Sunday completely, Colin decided to drop his essay off before turning out for the game.

With a song in his heart, he set off for the basement.

X X X

Visiting Snape's office—or the adjacent Potions Room, come to that—was usually a lowering experience, but Colin was less bothered than usual, knowing that this visit would keep Snape off his back until Tuesday afternoon.

His hand was actually raised to knock on the door, when he heard a clatter. It was the unmistakable sound of a clumsy Flooer emerging from a fireplace.

"Pettigrew, what are you doing here?"

It was Snape's voice.

"I was sent."

A whiny, squeaky, untrustworthy voice.

Colin put his ear to the door.

"It is a risk," said Snape, "The Floo Network is being watched."

"None of 'em'll know me," said Pettigrew.

"Give your message and go," said Snape, with utter contempt in his voice.

"Forna is secure in Hogwarts. He wants you to flush her out."

"Does he think I had forgotten?"

"Don't shoot the messenger. He also asks why things are going so slowly with Special P."

"I have done my work. It is now up to others."

"You know his style. He expects you to keep firing rockets up their lazy arses."

"And for you, maintaining the revolting metaphor, to do the same to me. Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Then go at once."

There were fireplacey sounds again, and Pettigrew's voice spoke: "Spinner's End."

Colin understood nothing of all the strange conversation, but realised that important things were happening; and also that there should be no suspicion that he had overheard the discussion about them.

He had intended to run towards the sunlight and the game of Chins, but it sounded as if Snape was on the move.

Colin had a choice of direction. There were two blind passages leading from the main corridor. Colin chose the one less likely to be passed by Snape and ran as quietly as he could towards it.

He was just in time: he had barely turned the corner and come to a halt, with breath held, when Snape burst out his office and strode away in the right direction.

Colin stood thunderstruck for a few moments. He had distinctly heard the words Ten points to Gryffindor spoken in Snape's voice.

He had an eerie feeling: he had no idea who Snape's unpleasant visitor had been, nor what he and Snape had been gabbling about; and why, in the name of Merlin's left testicle, should Snape award points to a rival house after receiving what was clearly a nagging?

Colin was a cheerful and accepting soul and was quite prepared to regard much of life as too mysterious to be worth bothering about when there were so many easier and pleasanter things to dwell on. However, Snape's doings seemed to have a special significance, if the chill affecting his body was anything to go by.

Colin was preparing to put in some deep thought, when his body relaxed and he smiled to himself: of course he was affected by a chill eeriness: at the end of the passage was the Bloody Baron's favourite chamber. Colin's body was simply undergoing a normal human reaction to the presence of ghosts.

The worst the Bloody Baron could do was to walk through him, and that was something Colin had experienced several times without suffering any disasters.

He set off to follow Snape, but had to keep a long way back—he wished he had Danny's talents—or his Invisibility Cloak.

He ran to the end of the corridor, took a gamble on which staircase to use, and found he'd backed the winner when he had a rear view of Snape striding purposefully like a man who knows where he's going.

Colin tracked Snape by the time-honoured process of running to each corner as Snape turned it, and peeping round.

As Snape and his shadow moved through the school, Colin had a mad thought—a thought which became reality when Snape turned one last corner . . . and knocked on Professor McGonagall's door.

He was admitted and Colin stood amazed: it was only to be expected that Snape should be involved in an unpleasant business, but something about that business had impelled him to visit Professor McGonagall, and surely she couldn't be . . .

Shrugging off the mystery, Colin ran to join the Chinsers.

He noticed on the way that Gryffindor points were still on three hundred and seventy, as they had been for days; so Snape's Ten points to Gryffindor hadn't been genuine.

X X X

Colin joined the vigorous game of Chins that continued until after eight o'clock, when it started to get dark.

There was no Yuri; Sea Jay and Jonathan were also missing, and Dennis told him that they had gone off with Filipe Smith. That was good: they were getting close to Filipe, as Danny had advised.

In the Common Room, Colin talked to Dennis, Ray and Stewart about Snape and his mysterious visitor.

None of them could shed light on Forna or Special P, but when Colin suggested that the only He who could be using Pettigrew to instruct Snape was You-Know-Who, Ray cheered them all up: "What about Dumbledore?" he said.

"Yes!" said Colin, "That would explain Professor McGonagall's involvement, so Forna and Special P could be something good."

"Forna is probably Umbridge," said Ray.

"Why Forna?" asked Colin.

"Have you ever heard of fornication?"

"Something to do with ants, isn't it?"

"That's formication. What's fornix?"

"Er . . . fornix, fornicis, third declension, masculine, an arch or vault," said Colin, recalling hours of rote-learning with Mrs Englishen-Latin.

"Well, prostitutes used to set up in vaults, so fornicating became a polite way of saying sex with a whore."

"So Professor Dumbledore is calling Umbridge a whore!" said Colin, "But that can't be right: no-one would want to touch her with a ten-foot wand."

"It's metaphorical, Colin," said Ray, "She does what Fudge wants and gets rewarded for it with the headship of Hogwarts."

"I wonder how Snape and McGonagall are going to flush her out," said Colin, "It sounds as though Special P is something separate."

"I know how I'd like to flush her out!" said Dennis, "With a Special Pee all over her."

"She might enjoy it, Den," laughed Colin.

"Too much information!" said Stewart.

"Yeah, I'm stuck on Special P," said Ray, "and on Ten points to Gryffindor. Why should he say that when there's no-one to hear and when he's not affecting the hour-glass?"

"Could he have known you were there, Colin, and said it as a tease?" asked Stewart.

"I don't see how, unless he had one of these Muggle CCTV cameras," said Colin.

"And that's definitely not his style," said Ray.

Further speculation was suspended, as Sea Jay and Jonathan came into the common room.

"How'd it go, boys?" asked Colin.

"We made the supreme sacrifice," said Jonny, "Or rather Sea Jay did. But we didn't learn anything."

"Give us the ghastly details!" said Colin.

"No, spare us the ghastly details," said Stewart.

"Non-bowlers off the green!" said Dennis, "Come on, Sea Jay, we want full anamotical detail!"

"Well," started Sea Jay, "he's very hairy—hairier than anyone I know, except I can out-fuzz him with my B.O.T.; and he didn't seem particularly keen on kissing: you felt he was putting up with it; and it didn't stimulate him: when we all got our kit off, Jonny had to use his mouth."

"What, talking?" said Ray.

"Piss off!" said Jonathan, "My mouth is extremely skilled at lots of things. Anyway he got into a reasonable state, but what really tickled his fancy was Sea Jay's bum."

"Perhaps he's a goat-botherer," said Ray, "There've been quite a few cases in the Prophet over the years."

"Maybe he is," laughed Sea Jay, "he certainly wanted to bother me."

"And when we made it clear that part of the deal was for him to suck my willy," continued Jonny, "you could see he had to steel himself to do it."

"But he was keen enough in the end," said Sea Jay "And he didn't take long to finish on me."

Jonny picked up the story: "And then he made a great to-do about spitting out my juice and having to have a glass of water."

"It's insulting really," said Sea Jay, "I didn't demand a clyster when he pumped himself into me."

"So the bottom—ha-ha—line is," said Jonny, "that he showed every sign of doing something he didn't really want to do."

"And was there any quid pro quo?" asked Ray, "Bottles of poison? Requests to stab Harry? Demands that Umbridge be treated as a normal witch?"

"No, absolutely nothing," said Jonny.

"We asked him about himself," said Sea Jay, "and he seems a pretty normal kid: he's a pureblood—that's important to him, apparently—his father works in the Ministry; he supports the Coalville Colliers; he hopes to get "Exceeds Expectations" in his N.E.W.T.'s and go into Finance."

"See, I told you ants came into it," said Colin, to the mystification of the newcomers.

"Well, we either wait for him to make a move," said Ray, ignoring Colin, "or we try and pre-empt it."

"How pre-empt it?" asked Jonathan.

"Danny got some Polyjuice, didn't he? He could probably get us some Veritaserum."

"Brilliant!" said Colin, "We could use it on Yuri too."

"How would we get it in?" asked Jonathan, "It'd set off every Alarm Spell before it got an inch inside the door."

"There is that," said Ray.

Dennis had been thinking deeply for some time. Now he said: "What was his willy like?"

Sea Jay laughed: "Dark-skinned; rather skimped on foreskin; a little shorter and thinner than some I've known."

Stewart snorted: "You gays always get on to that, don't you?"

"Oh yeah?" said Dennis, "And what do you think the girls talk about in the dorm?"

"Not that, I'm sure!"

"Then you haven't been getting close enough to your girlfriends," said Dennis.

"Anyway, Stewart," said Sea Jay, "It's not the individual willy that counts; it's the variety."

"And the combinations," said Jonny.

"And don't think you haven't been noticed when you stare at Lisa Turpin's tits," said Colin, "And that's no different."

This subdued Stewart, and Ray took the opportunity to bring Sea Jay and Jonathan up-to-date on the affair of Snape's visitor.

They agreed with the analysis, but Jonathan had something to add: "That Gryffindor nonsense could be the password to his door."

"Why would he pick that?" laughed Colin.

"It's a strong password," said Ray, "Nobody'd guess that Snape would use a phrase that he'd never previously uttered in his life."

Colin persisted: "But why say it out loud? Snape's like Danny: a master of non-verbals."

"Perhaps he enjoys saying it," said Sea Jay, "Remember Danny's theory that he might be a triple, or something, agent. Perhaps his heart's really against the Dark Side and against the Ministry. He's in alliance with Professor McGonagall on Forna and Special P, anyway."

The others nodded.

"Time for my Geography homework," said Dennis.

Ray laughed: "In case you hadn't noticed, Dennis, only Muggle schools do Geography."

"This is an unpaid extra," said Dennis, "I'm attending a lecture by two distinguished explorers on the Geography of Felipe Smith's bottom."

"I'm definitely outa here!" laughed Stewart.

"I'm off too," said Ray.

"Tell Trinity to tell Mandy I'm thinking of her," said Dennis.

"Will do," said Ray, who felt much easier with boy-girl love.

"Too late to see Yuri," said Colin, "I'd better touch base with my youngest friend."

He wandered over to where the first-years were playing a noisy wizarding card-game.

As was becoming usual, he pushed his way in, so as to be cheek-to-cheek with Alexander and put an arm round the boy.

When the round had finished, there was a clamour for Colin to read a story.

"I'll read Alexander a story," said Colin, "and the rest of you can stay in bed with the lights out and listen if you want."

All the boys agreed and one brave little girl said: "Then tomorrow will you come to our dorm and read us a story, Colin?"

"I would if I could," laughed Colin, and the game continued.

Then something happened inside Colin's head.

It was what Danny called a connection-moment: Colin wanted Veritaserum; Colin had the password to Snape's office; Snape probably kept a store of Veritaserum.

"Sorry lads," he said, "Something's come up."

He gave Alexander a peck on the top of his head and bludgeoned his way towards Sea Jay and Jonathan.

"Den! Den!" he called, "I've got an idea!"

The four boys put their heads together and Colin explained his plan.

"You can't just break into Snape's office," said Sea Jay.

"Why not? Danny did; Hermione Grainger did."

"What if you're caught?"

"I've got an excuse. I've still got his bloody essay."

"You'd better have a lookout."

"Then it would be awkward if we were both caught."

"I suppose you're right."

"I think it's a good idea," said Jonny.

"Don't wait up for me, Den," said Colin, "If I get the stuff I'll try for a night with Yuri."

They wished him good luck, and for the second time that evening he made his way down to the basement.

— CHAPTER NINETEEN — Colin Has a Quiet Sunday

There were a few students roaming the castle, but Colin got no more accostment than an inviting smile from some of them.

He reached Snape's office and rapped on the door.

There was no answer, so he rapped again, very loudly.

There was still no answer, so he whispered "Ten points to Gryffindor," but the door remained locked.

He brought his wand into play and, this time, he was able to turn the handle and enter.

Snape had left a lamp on and Colin lost no time in commencing his search.

The room had many cabinets.

Most of them were glass-fronted, which was good.

They all appeared to have potion ingredients, rather than finished potions, which was bad.

Most of the ingredients were unspectacular—what the Hogwarts students termed vanilla—things like peppermint and salamander blood, but some were more interesting: dragon claw, for example: he considered scrumping some of this to help his friends with their O.W.L.'s, but decided to stick to the task in hand.

He'd been avoiding looking at a large, locked, wooden-fronted cabinet, but when he found himself repeating previous examinations, he faced up to it.

Fearing the worst he tried Ten points to Gryffindor without success.

Then he tried Alohamora!—again no joy.

He had run out of magic, and started thinking of one of the things Danny had often said: If magic doesn't work, try a Muggle solution.

He was looking for something to use as a lever when he heard footsteps coming along the corridor—the particular footsteps he did not want to hear.

He dived behind a big sofa and held his breath.

Yes, the worst happened: he heard Snape's voice muttering the password; the door opened and Snape came in.

Colin pondered his options. It was a very short ponder: he didn't want to be caught, though he could bluster that he was only delivering his essay and the door was open.

That was too thin. He would have to stay put.

Snape had probably been with Professor McGonagall all this time. Colin hoped that he would be off home soon.

Then his spirits slumped: it dawned on him that the sofa had some bedding on it: Snape must sleep in his office on some nights. Let it not be tonight!

As Snape pottered around, Colin tried to think of spells to ensure that a sleeper slept extra-deeply. It would have been a piece of cake for Danny, but he couldn't come up with anything.

Snape had sat down at his desk. Occasionally, there was the scratch of a quill. Colin decided that Snape was making notes on something he was reading.

Colin tried to project the thought: You could do that better at home! But Snape just carried on with his work.

As usual when his mind had nothing else to do, Colin started a mental review of the boys he knew and loved—though Colin was so void of spite that knew and loved was what Danny would call on oxymoron.

He thought of Danny, rogering his way round Russia with Brian; of last night with Dennis, who was, perhaps, even now, having a wank while thinking of Mandy Brocklehurst; of the white, virgin body of Yuri Prokofiev awaiting Colin's attentions; of the warmth of Alexander's body nestled against the boy he loved.

Then the image of James Carter and his stiffie came into Colin's mind.

He had a raging erection and wondered if he could manage a silent wank without Snape noticing.

He dismissed the idea and also dismissed the possibility of sex with James: Colin would do nothing to upset Alexander.

He started thinking about Alexander taking his clothes off. The trouble was that he had never seen Alexander's body, or his bum; he hadn't even stood next to him at the urinals.

The image of James's erect penis—something he had seen—came again.

What was it about James that got Colin so hot?

Danny would have had an answer.

That was Colin's last thought before he fell asleep.

X X X

There was a grey light.

Colin wondered who he was; then where he was; then why his hip and shoulder ached a lot and the rest of him ached slightly.

He came to full consciousness with a mental and physical jerk: he was in Snape's office; he was hiding behind a sofa that might, or might not, be carrying a sleeping Snape—or, even worse, a wakeful Snape.

He was sore and full of incipient cramps. He wanted more than anything to stretch, but forced himself to remain still.

He held his breath for a long time and listened for the sounds of breathing.

There was nothing, and with extreme slowness, he pulled up his legs and, using arms and legs, raised himself so that his face was peeping over the sofa like a bad moon rising.

Snape was not there, thank Heavens, and Colin made an arthritic dash for the door.

He had a moment of panic, but remembered Ten points to Gryffindor and within seconds he was free and scuttling down the corridor and up the stairs.

He turned, not towards Gryffindor, but towards Ravenclaw.

He had no idea of the time, and sat down leaning against the door, waiting for someone to get up.

He had a long wait, but at last, the door opened and a girl came out.

"Hello?" she said, in blank surprise.

"Hello," said Colin, "I'm waiting for Yuri Prokofiev. Would you mind if I came in and waited on a comfy sofa?"

"Please do."

On this Sunday morning, the boys of Ravenclaw were keener than the girls on having a lie-in.

Several girls had passed before one of them gave a shriek and ran back through the door to the girls' dormitories.

Almost at once Mandy Brocklehurst came tearing up to him: "Colin! What is it? Is it Dennis? Has something happened?"

Colin smiled: "Don't worry, Mandy, Den's fine. I'm here to see Yuri Prokofiev."

"Oh, thank goodness! It's these O.W.L.'s. I'm so stressed up you wouldn't believe, Col. And don't smile: you'll have it next year. That Yuri's a bit of okay, isn't he? The first-years call him the blond bombshell."

"Talking of bombshells, that's two beauties you've got there."

"Oh, sorry," said Mandy, pulling her dressing-gown a thirty-second of an inch more closed, "I've got to go and dress, anyway."

Colin had to wait a little longer for the first two males to appear.

They were Eddie Carmichael and Cho Chang. Since they had no exams this year, Colin guessed that they'd got up early for a morning fag rather than revision.

Eddie took him up to the fifth-year dorm—circular, but different décor from Gryffindor— and pointed out Yuri's bed.

Colin slipped through the curtains and applied his weak Protective and Concealment Charms. He took off all his clothes and got in with Yuri.

After the night on Snape's floor and the chill of an early May morning, the bed felt delightfully soft and Yuri delightfully warm.

He snuggled up to Yuri and put an arm round him.

He decided to have a little more kip, and let Yuri waken in his own time.

Colin had his little kip, and awoke when a voice spoke his name followed by some Russian endearments.

He opened his eyes and saw Yuri sitting up and looking at him.

He reached out and undid the top button of Yuri's pyjamas; then the next; then worked his way down, ending up by loosening his pyjama-chord.

Yuri was talking: "Beautiful Colin, you are in my bed. Is this a dream?"

He shed his pyjama-jacket and reached down to remove the bottoms. As he drew up his legs to wriggle them over his ankles, Colin saw a seriously beautiful, milky-white, erect willy. It was thin and long—looking longer than it really was because of the fact that Yuri only had a small bush—a bush, though, which was only a little less straw-coloured than the shock on Yuri's head.

Colin lay on his back and pulled Yuri towards him.

They started snogging. It was fantastic: Colin could hardly believe that Yuri had less than a week's experience—but then, Yuri had begun with Seamus, and you couldn't come up with a better teacher.

As Yuri's tongue flicked against his, Colin felt the special lust that can only be truly assuaged by a hard shagging. He hadn't taken a mansizer since Danny had done him a fortnight earlier; besides, he knew that, before they start gaying about all over the place, most trainee homosexuals want to bum other boys more than anything else in the world.

He opened his legs and the two willies pressed against each other.

He squeezed Yuri's buttocks. They felt even firmer than they had on Thursday when he had clasped them through two layers of clothes.

His finger found Yuri's secret hole and Yuri moaned and trembled. Then he started shagging motions so that their willies rubbed against each other.

Colin felt a moisture about his middle, a moisture that became a flood as Yuri spurted out his virginity over Colin's genitals.

He could hear Yuri's breath gasping in his ear.

He started his own thrusting and his willy slithered about in genuine Russian cum, as his very own genuine Russian boy kissed Colin's neck.

It was very sexy, and it took only a few thrusts from Colin before he too was lost in the delirious throes of orgasm.

He squirted his own offering against Yuri and lay panting as the boys' combined fluids seeped between his thighs.

When he had got his breath back, he turned to Yuri and spoke:

"Good morning!"

X X X

Colin and Yuri would have liked to have stayed in bed all day, but Yuri's O.W.L.'s loomed and, apart from sex, boys have other needs: the call of a Sunday breakfast could not be denied.

Dennis was eating his breakfast when they arrived in the Great Hall. Colin signalled him to stay where he was and led Yuri to the top end of the table, far from anyone else.

"Tell me more about your school, Yuri," said Colin.

"What is there to tell?" said Yuri, "A school is a school: they teach you and prepare you for the world."

"What about your friends?"

"I didn't really have friends."

"I can't believe that. You're clever, handsome and likeable: they must have been queuing up to be your friend."

"Friendship was not encouraged."

"That's a strange school that teaches Dark Magic and discourages friendship. I can't believe your loving father and mother sent you there."

Yuri thought for a moment, then said: "Alright, I lied to you. I have no father and mother. I grew up in a State Orphanage; then I was sent to a bad school by bad people."

"And then sent here. Why should bad Russian wizards care whether their students get British O.W.L.'s?"

Yuri thought again, this time for longer.

At last he said: "They don't care. They are very bad men. They sent me here to do something bad—I don't know what, but I swear to you, Colin, that I will never do anything bad here. I want to be English. If I pass O.W.L.'s, I can get a job and stay in England away from these Russian . . . faeces . . . is that right?"

"Shits or turds, but faeces is okay," said Colin, "But surely you must know what they wanted you to do inside Hogwarts?"

"No, we were to await instructions."

"We? There were others?"

"One other. He ran away. He was braver than me. He's probably dead."

"What was he called?"

"Nicolai. I loved him, but we could never talk: there was always the Collective there or school staff. I think he hated the . . . shits as much as me; and I think he liked me too. You can't spend every day with someone for four years without getting some psychic linkage."

"This Nicolai: would that be Nicolai Chaikovsky?"

Yuri jumped to his feet.

"You knew? You knew all along! This was all a test! Let me say at this moment in time I will kill myself if you send me back."

"Sit down, Yuri. Think what happened this morning. That was real."

Yuri calmed a little and sat.

"How do I know it was real? In Russia they are skilled at honeytrap."

Colin laughed his head off.

"Has the dark Russian soul any irony?"

"Of course, but there is nothing ironic here."

"What do you think? Suppose I drove you to suicide just as my brother Danny has rescued the one you love."

"What! Nicolai is alive?"

"Yes, he's living with my brother and his boyfriend, which means he's safe from the Dark scum."

"I am happy," shouted Yuri, and kissed Colin—the tongue variety—lengthily and vigorously.

Then his mood changed, and he said: "And yet it could still be provocation—"

Once more, Colin laughed.

"Yuri: shut your cakehole and use your brain! They sent you and your mate here because they didn't have anyone here already. If they had been able to get Brits to do their dirty work, you'd still be at your scumbaggy Russian school. . . ."

Colin broke off. He was surprised at his perception and surprised at the implication: The Yuri-and-Nicolai project was nothing to do with Voldemort, the Ministry, or the Slytherins.

Just as well, he thought wryly: any in-the-know Slytherin would have seen that Yuri's outburst was more than a lovers' tiff.

Colin realised he should have had this meeting in private. Still, he'd got away with it.

Yuri had been speaking for some time. Colin picked up on him at: ". . . impossible not to be paranoid when you have lived in that atmosphere."

Colin told him: "We have more reason to be paranoid than you, Yuri. We have our own scumbags too, and they're not so easy to pick out, though Toadface makes it a little easier for us. Just you get your head down and pass those exams. I bet my brother Danny's giving your Russian friends hell."

"Yeah, yeah. That is good. Colin I will give you a present."

"I don't need a present, idiot."

"Nevertheless I will give it to you. Wait here and I will get it."

"No, bring it to my dorm."

"Okay."

Yuri went off and Colin jerked his head at Adrian at the Slytherin table, and Adam with the Ravenclaws.

The committee of eight convened in the dorm and brought each other up to date.

"So it looks as though Yuri's safe," summed up Ray, "He gave Colin the full story, and, as for Filipe, all we can do is for Sea Jay and Jonny to keep up the good work."

"I'm sorry I haven't helped," said Adrian, "but I've had a thought: if we could get hold of some Veritaserum—"

Colin screamed.

"What have I said?" asked Adrian.

"Colin raided Snape's office last night to try and get some," said Ray, "Without success, by the sound of it."

Colin told them the story.

"Coo! So you spent all night hiding behind Snape's sofa," said Dennis, "Was it dusty? You might have sneezed."

"Snape keeps everything immaculate," said Colin.

At this moment, there was a knock on the door.

It was Yuri, who came in carrying his Matryoshka.

"For you, Colin," he said, "The best thing I can give you."

"Thanks," said Colin.

He gave Yuri a kiss, undid the Matryoshka and laid the three dolls on the window ledge where they had Dennis's cows and combine harvester, on loan to Colin, for company.

"Yuri, these are my friends," said Colin, "I forbid you to get paranoia with them."

He introduced them, and each got a double cheek-kiss, accepted bravely by Ray and Stewart, welcomed by the others, and enlivened, in Dennis's case, by a gentle groping of Yuri's genitalia.

"I'll go to study now," said Yuri.

"See yer lunchtime," said Colin.

"Me too," said Adrian, and he strolled out with Yuri.

The meeting was over and Dennis started playing with the dolls.

Colin said: "I'll try and dump my essay on Snape, and then I'll have all Sunday free."

"Leave it till tomorrow, Col," said Dennis.

"No, we haven't got Potions tomorrow and I don't want to think about Snape on Mondays."

"It's a lovely day," said Jonathan, "Let's go for a wander outside and maybe we can pick up our Filipe."

"Yeah, I'll meet you at the front door—oh, no!"

"What is it Col?" asked Dennis, instantly at his brother's side, holding his hand.

"My essay! I lost it!"

"It'll be in Yuri's bed," said Dennis.

"No. I remember: when I hid behind Snape's sofa, I took it out so I didn't crush it. It must still be there"

"Snape wasn't at breakfast. He's probably got the day off," said Sea Jay, "You can just breeze in and get it."

"But if he's there, I'll have to do it again, and then, when he finds the first one I'll be in trouble."

"Don't panic," said Ray, "Here's what you should do."

He explained his scheme and they had a rehearsal, accompanied by much giggling.

"It's weird," said Colin, "I started off hoping Snape was in; then I hoped he was out: now I don't care."

"Don't be over-confident," said Ray, "Dennis, you'd better go along with Colin and provide extra diversion, if needed."

The brothers went down to the basement. They reached Snape's door, and Colin steeled himself, then knocked.

Snape was in.

He opened the door and stared at the Creevey brothers.

"Creeveys!" he said, "If you wished to confess to smoking or breaking bounds at night, you could have waited until tomorrow."

The last time Snape had confronted the Creeveys as a team, he had suffered a series of embarrassing put-downs from Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, Sir," said Colin, "I've come to hand in my essay."

"That could also have waited until—" Snape began.

Colin interrupted him: "Ooh, look! A mouse!"

He squeezed between Snape and the door frame, and ran across the room, diving after the errant rodent behind the sofa.

Snape was shouting: "There is no mouse here, Creevey. I have occupied this office for fourteen years, and there has never been a mouse here."

"There's a first time for everything, Sir," said Dennis.

Snape ignored him.

Colin rose to his feet, saying: "It got away, Sir."

"Creevey," Snape barked, "Once and for all, there is no mouse in my office. If a mouse appears, I will ascribe it to you."

"Here's my essay, Sir," said Colin,

Snatching it from Colin's hand, Snape turned to Dennis: "I suppose you saw this mouse too?"

"Oh no, Sir," said Dennis, "Colin came to give you his essay. He was up all night writing it. No wonder he's seeing things."

"I am not seeing things, Dennis," said Colin angrily, "I saw a mouse. It was dappled."

"A dappled mouse!" thundered Snape, "That is the most—"

He broke off and a look of concern came over his face. Colin guessed that it was not concern for the loony, or fear of being attacked by the loony, but realisation that driving students mad was not the best achievement to have on one's career record.

"Go away, both of you," he snapped, "No. Wait. I might as well read what you have produced while you are here. Stand there."

Snape sat at his desk reading the essay and annotating it, reminding Colin of what he had been doing on the previous night.

The boys stayed silent except for an occasional soft Eek! . . . Eek! . . .Eek! from Dennis.

"Shut up, Creevey," said Snape.

He finished reading and scrawled his customary "A".

"Why you couldn't have produced this first off, Creevey . . ."

He tailed off and substituted an "E" for an "A".

Dennis was smiling at Snape and making tapping motions on his head.

Snape changed the "E" to an "O".

"Outstanding, Creevey," he said, "Now I think you should drop in on Madam Pomfrey."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

The boys went off.

"Good thing you never told him about the little pink fairy riding the mouse," said Dennis.

"Now we know, Den: if you want to get an "O" out of Snape, pretend to be a dangerous lunatic."

"That was funny, Col. You were brilliant."

"You weren't so bad yourself, Den."

"Shall we go outside and find the others, Col?"

"You go, Den. I'm just going to curl up with a book. I've earned myself a quiet Sunday.

— CHAPTER TWENTY — Naughty Boys, Naughty Mundungus

Sunday evening dinner was a joyous occasion.

Friday had been a full day of lessons and Danny was pleased that everyone really wanted to learn.

Of course, the wizardry subjects were new, exciting and glamorous, but even such perennial schoolboy hates as Maths and Languages had provoked enthusiasm.

Far from wanting a weekend off, the boys had clamoured for as many lessons as possible, and had worked willingly in the library on the high amount of homework needed to cover the periods when their teachers took Portkeys to Moscow for some weekend recreation.

Danny impressed on the boys the eminence of their teachers, with a Headmaster who was world-famous.

The boys listened and accepted, but continued to regard Danny as the Boss. When Danny protested that they were not a pack of wolves or a street-gang, Nicolai put their feelings in words: "You saved us. Now and forever, we are yours."

Danny had worn his crown lightly, only intervening once when one of the twins asked Professor Gogol what the English was for I want a shit; wipe my arse.

Despite their pleasure at the theory lessons, Sunday afternoon was the highlight: they were let loose on their broomsticks, and even Danny, with his cagey, awkward style, enjoyed himself—though he enjoyed watching the others a bit more.

Madam Shelepina-Healthcare sat at the side, obviously trying not to hope for a few fractures to mend.

It had been agreed that meals for the boys would be best served in one of the common rooms, but that, on Sunday evenings, there should be a more formal dinner attended by teachers, wives and students.

After dinner Professor de Castro spoke a few words reporting on progress to date. He was a born teacher, but unlike many teachers—unlike Professor Dumbledore, come to that—he did not indulge in the ingratiating, weak-joke-laden humour that they use to show their students a human side.

He announced that, on future Sundays, he would be announcing marks for the week, and called for comments and suggestions.

There was silence until Nicolai said: "I wouldn't mind a piano."

"A good idea," said the Professor, "We'll arrange to get one in time for next Sunday. Then I will show you some Jewish dancing . . . unless . . . I don't suppose, Daniel, that you could provide a temporary one?"

"Difficult, but I'll have a go," said Danny.

He stood, focusing his mind on the piano as an ideal, then waved his wand and produced a small, upright piano.

Nick rushed over and pulled up a chair. He started to play. The notes were roughly in tune but the tone was tinnier than the average Muggle honky-tonk.

Nevertheless, Professor de Castro established a suitably-paced tune—Moscow Nights— with Nick, and showed the steps of a Jewish wedding-dance.

Sadly, the piano Evanesced after five minutes and they decided to wait for a proper one.

Done out of their dance-session, the boys set up a game of hide-and-seek, stopping only when Madam Shelepina-Matron's Patronus chased them all up to bed.

While the twins carried out their appropriated duty of locking the doors, Pyotr called out: "Let's have Sunday night meetings in Danny's room!"

There were shouts of agreement, and they all rushed to have their goodnight toothpastings and pees.

The cry No Clothes! went up, and suddenly there were seven naked boys gathered together.

Danny and Brian sat on the big bed, upright with their backs against the headboard. Each had their legs splayed, with a twin sitting between the legs, resting his head on a parent's chest.

Danny could smell Pavel's hair, though it was a wonder that he could distinguish anything amid the general fug: none of the seven had showered since Wednesday—through laziness, but inadvertently giving Danny a great deal of pleasure: he loved the smells of teenage boys.

Nick sat at right angles leaning against the twins' headboard. The Kalinovs sat facing Danny, with their legs on top of Nick's legs.

"Give us a back-rest, Danny," said Pyotr, and Danny obliged with a padded board.

"It's your meeting, Pyotr," said Danny, "Please lead us."

"I can't put it all into words, how my life has changed," said Pyotr, "but I'll try and tell you how I feel: it's like the layers on a wedding cake or the six stripes on the Gay Flag.

"First there is being free; then being with my brother; then being with the rest of you; then being a wizard; then being educated; and finally, being gay.

"All these things are going on all the time, but being gay has special highlighted moments when you have sex with another boy.

"I used to think that being gay would be just prison sex, and when I got out, I would have to hide it and go without sex altogether, as it would have to be with girls—not with boys because of the shame—let alone getting beaten up or killed.

"And I thought being gay was just about cocks and bums, and gays couldn't be sweethearts like men and women.

"And I thought being gay was being weird, because the only other gays I knew were punters and I didn't like them.

"And in four days it's all changed. First when Danny spoke to us on the Magic Carpet; and then when we were all together and Brian got bummed by Danny for the first time and it was hot stuff, but it was romantic like they show in the films; and since we've been here and we all like each other and my little brother enjoys doing things with me."

Boris stirred and said: "We didn't see Brian and Danny bumming; we were asleep."

Pavel turned and looked at Brian: "Can we see it now, please?"

Alexei intervened: "I've got a better idea, Twins: wouldn't you like to see my arsehole being poked for the first time?"

"Yes! Yes!"

The twins bounced up and down. Danny felt a little pre-cum smearing across Pavel's back.

"Pyotr, beloved elder brother," said Alexei, "Please treat me like a woman."

He kissed Pyotr, and lay face-down along the bed.

Nicolai shifted to the other bed to make room. Danny got up and went over with his wand. He turned Alexei onto his back, and raised his legs, exposing a little brown star. He lowered his head and pushed his nose hard against it.

He smelled the delicious, overpowering scent of a teenage bumhole, and stayed for some time, repeatedly inhaling, enjoying the rapture.

There was something different about Alexei's odour. Was it individual? Was it shared with his brother? Was it Russianness?—Danny had never been so close to a Russian boy before.

He stuck out his tongue and licked Alexei. The hole was small, tight and hairless like Brian's.

He pressed his tongue more firmly and Alexei jerked his bum towards Danny, saying: "Wow!"

He could sense some of the others holding their breath while shifting to get a better view.

After thirty seconds of licking, he rose and explained: "That was just for pleasure. To make a willy slip in easily, we need a businesslike spell."

He demonstrated Lubricio! and said: "Pyotr!"

The boy was there right away: he rolled over the bed and gently pushed his willy against his brother.

He pushed in a little, and said: "Okay, Brother?"

"Yeah, Yeah!" said Alexei, "Don't piss about!"

Pyotr pressed hard, and his little twitches soon became powerful strokes as he got truly excited.

He leaned over and kissed Alexei. The two brothers fitted like a jigsaw puzzle and they were able to snog, which they did for the rest of the shag, when their breath allowed them, and when Alexei was not talking: "This is so good!" he gasped, "You never said it was like this . . . Oh, go on, brother . . . Oh!"

Danny, as always, found the sight of two boys shagging enthralling. He admired Pyotr's oscillating bum and was moving in have a long sniff, when Pyotr started a long, noisy come: "Oh, Yeah! . . . Yeah" . . ." and then a scream.

Pyotr hopped off immediately and lay beside his brother, adopting the same posture.

"Bank!" said Alexei, "Nicolai, make a deposit!"

Nicolai was up and on the jolly roger in a trice and Danny was on his tail.

He parted Nick's bumcheeks and thrilled at the orangeness of the hairs. Then his nose was in play: another wonderful range of scents; nothing he could definitely put down to Russianness, but definitely not a little-boy niff: this was a late-teen smell, a little reminiscent of Adrian's.

He tried the hole with his tongue: it was small, but, despite being currently clenched mid-shag, a bit looser than Alexei's and the tip of Danny's tongue was definitely inside.

Nick's reaction to having his bumhole licked was immediate and ecstatic: with a great cry, and an almighty heave, he shot his load—quite a few loads, in fact—into Alexei and came to a slow halt.

Danny was in Heaven, and continued to lick around the rim of Nick's bumhole, occasionally pushing inside. He would have gone on for a long time, except that the twins pushed him and Nick aside. Straightaway—was it Boris or Pavel?—it was Boris—started shagging Alexei; and it was Boris who pushed Alexei into his own orgasm, which was accompanied by squawks like a wounded animal.

Danny had been unusually restrained with the twins, and, despite their advances, had given them no more than the odd bottom-fondle: he had wanted them to feel safe and comfortable with physicality and not feel that they had to reward their rescuer.

Now, though, it was surely the time for intimacy.

He leant towards Boris's bouncing bottom, but was again barged away and suddenly, Pavel was kissing his brother's bumhole.

Boris giggled with delight in a way that reminded him of Dennis Creevey.

Right! Danny decided he'd learn the smell and taste of Pavel's bum. Nothing could stop him.

Then a pair of much-loved hands came around Danny's waist, and came to rest: one hand on his balls, and one hand on his willy. A face was pressed against his bum and he felt the lips and tongue working at his hole.

It was rare for Brian to kiss Danny's bumhole: whenever Brian was down there, the attraction of Danny's willy was too great. Brian loved it, and loved sucking it day and night.

The exciting activities of Alexei and the twins; the tingle of Brian kissing his bottom; the throb in his sticky prick as Brian rubbed it: it sent Danny into a state of euphoria, and he started moaning as the beautifully unbearable tension built up.

Pavel turned to see what was going on, and was rewarded with a great splat of cum in his face. He was delighted and surprised, and, fatally, opened his mouth to say something.

A second splat neatly threaded his lips, and a third one landed on his neck.

Pavel was half-choking and half-laughing.

Boris paused, and turned to look at his brother. Immediately, he withdrew from Alexei and peered closely.

"Danny came on your face!" he laughed.

"And in my mouth! Look!"

Pavel opened his mouth to show the milky streak.

"What's it like?"

"Nice! Here!"

Pavel pushed his face against Boris's.

Boris sniffed his twin's face all over, then gave it a lick.

He was chasing a moving target, as Pavel, quick as a weasel, slipped into Alexei's bum and was promptly pumping as boisterously as his brother.

Having licked a reasonable amount of Danny-cum from his twin's face, Boris turned to Pavel's bum, and was soon producing a lot of slurping sounds: he was alternately sucking and sticking his tongue in hard.

Pavel, too, enjoyed this treatment—perhaps Boris's more robust approach was especially pleasing, as Pavel's squeals and giggles were wonderful to hear.

Danny looked up at Brian: "Come here, my little loverboy, I've been ignoring you!"

He looked at Brian's gorgeous penis—as thin as the average little boy's, but much longer.

He took it into his mouth and sucked gently. One day this cock would expel cascades of fluid into his mouth, but, for the present, he simply enjoyed its wondrous smoothness.

Similarly, there would come a day when, judging by the dense hair on his head, Brian would have a tangled jungle down here, but, as the tip of the cock tickled Danny's throat, his lips could feel a pubic region as smooth as the penis that grew out of it.

He sucked for a long time, stroking Brian's bottom with one hand, and his bony back with the other.

Behind him he heard Alexei laughingly say: "You'll sleep well tonight, Twins."

Pavel had become puffed, and Boris had taken over in what was turning into a bumming marathon.

Danny smiled to himself: the twins had tiny willies, but they were enough to give Alexei some dreamy post-orgasm sensations; and it was good bonding.

Eventually, Brian drew Danny up and kissed him.

"How was it?" asked Danny.

Brian experienced pleasurable sensations during sex, but they always stopped short of orgasm.

"Better and better. Like light at the end of a tunnel."

"Look!" said Danny.

Brian turned to see Pyotr on his back, his legs wide and high, with Nicolai steadily shafting him. The two boys were kissing.

They watched until movement ceased, with both boys having had good-quality comes.

When he had enough breath, Nick said: "Bloody hell! Four hundred and eight shags and we could have been doing that every time!"

"We didn't know," said Pyotr, "And we'd have been much too embarrassed to kiss each other."

"Well, if you do that when you call in your bank, I reckon it should count double."

"All debts are cancelled. The bank's bust. Capitalism's dead. We're living Communistically."

Danny laughed: "Well said, Nick! This isn't prison sex; this is the real thing: we're all boysexuals!"

The twins had finished.

Alexei was flushed and happy.

He went over and nuzzled his brother.

"It's a whole new dimension to life, isn't it Petya?"

"For all of us, beloved little brother."

The seven boys had a little chat, then it was time for bed.

The twins wanted to sleep with their parents, but Danny told them no, as everyone needed a good night's rest. He allowed them one concession, though: they were allowed to stick the tongue in when Brian and Danny kissed them goodnight.

As he wrapped himself comfortably around Danny, Brian whispered: "Life couldn't get any better."

X X X

They were slow to wake up on Monday morning.

Danny rousted Nick and the Kalinins, telling them: "In the showers, now!"

Brian had got the twins up, and they had started dressing.

"Undress, please," said Danny, "We're having a shower."

"Oh no!"

"We're all having a shower together."

"Oh, yes!"

Danny explained the rationale: "We're having a shower on Monday mornings because we've got to have a shower sometime, otherwise Madam Shelepina-Matron and all the others will complain; and Monday mornings we'll all stink of sex; and Monday morning allows a week so we're all full of delicious smells by Sunday night."

None of them disagreed with the argument. They had all seen Danny sniffing at them over the past few days, and, taking their lead from the Boss, had done a little sniffing of their own.

What had, until now, seemed a slightly disagreeable fact of life had become an exciting new part of their gayness.

"One last go before we wash it away," said Pyotr, who was the first and keenest covert to the joys of odour.

With much laughter they passed their noses, and occasionally tongues, over each other before taking to the water.

There was a lot of mutual soaping and laughter. After four orgasms had resulted, they emerged.

The twins started putting on the same clothes, and Danny shouted: "Clean clothes, everybody!"

They went with healthy appetites to have their breakfast, and left for their lessons as unlike snails as it is possible for Monday-morning schoolboys to be.

It was a good start to the week.

At twelve o'clock, Danny was taking the twins through elementary Transformations; Professor de Castro was in the Potions Room with Brian and Nicolai; and Professor Gogol was correcting the Kalinins' Russian.

Then Mrs de Castro came in.

"RadioFax for you, Daniel," she said, handing him a slip of paper.

Danny read:

Daniel Jorrocks, Yorosk

Something's come up.

Please meet me in London HQ.

Turquoise Shirt

He couldn't imagine what had come up, but he was curious, and quite looking forward to the journey, and the chance to help put whatever had gone wrong, right.

He explained matters to the Professors, kissed Brian goodbye, and went downstairs.

He took a Portkey to Moscow, and then one to London.

"Two long journeys!" said Sister Buchanan, "Just you sit there for a moment, and here's your bucket."

"I haven't got time," said Danny, "I've got a visitor."

"Unless there's a new fashion for vomiting over visitors, I should sit down for just a few minutes, dear."

The wisdom of Sister Buchanan's advice was emphasised by a wave of nausea, and Danny complied.

He managed not to be sick, and after a quarter of an hour was well enough to go to the meeting-room.

A nondescript, middle-aged man, who was reading a Financial Times, rose to his feet when Danny entered.

"Er . . . Hello," said Danny.

"I'm Polyjuiced," said the man.

"Where did we meet last?"

"St James's Park,"

"And what was the last thing I asked you for."

"A flash of my supposedly nice cock, which, incidentally, is certainly nicer than the unknown Muggle's I'm saddled with at present."

"Hello, Kingsley."

"Hello, Danny."

"Tell me the worst."

"Well, there's one bit of good news, and then it just gets worse."

"Go on."

"On Thursday, we ran the most thorough tests on your dolls and confirmed they're one hundred percent safe."

"Good."

"Unfortunately, we couldn't get a clue as to their ultimate use."

"A pity; we might have learned a new bit of magic."

"Then yesterday—Sunday—we noticed that they'd vanished."

"Vanished as in someone did an Evanesco! ?"

"Vanished as in stolen from a safe house."

"Mundungus!"

"As you say, Mundungus. We tracked him down at two o'clock this morning. He'd taken the dolls on Friday. His excuse was that we'd established that they were harmless and had no further use for them, so he thought they'd like a good home."

"Fair comment."

"They were on his stall on Saturday morning, and sat there all day. Then on Saturday night he went to the Leaky Cauldron. He knew that a pair of foreigners who were regulars were Russians."

"Oh, no!"

"He said he'd had nothing to do with them before because he thought they were smugglers and dealers of illegal magical substances, which wouldn't have put him off; and customers of the Knockturn boys, which would.

"But Saturday night, he thought he might make a good sale, so he told them about the three antique interlocking dolls just in from Moscow. He saw they were interested—particularly that there were only three.

"Even then, we might have been okay, except that one of his contacts told him they'd be strawberry-picking that night, so Mundungus decided to open up on Sunday.

"And on Sunday, sure enough, one of the Russians turned up and gave him ten galleons without a haggle."

"They must have thought their tapwater was running liquid luck!" said Danny, "Three days after the holder of the dolls is sprung from prison, the dolls turn up in London—just where they're wanted. Then they'd have thought it was part of Kryuchkov's grand scheme. Goodness, we've fouled up, Kingsley! We can only hope Colin can do something about the other three, as our lot'll have been owled to Hogwarts and got there this morning."

The Muggle face smiled.

"For once, Umbridge is on our side: owls are being examined closely; letters are read; presents are probed; anything in the least suspicious goes to the Ministry for examination. There's usually a backlog."

"We may have something else going for us, Kingsley," said Danny, "The Russian boy, Prokofiev, is said to be disaffected, so he may not assemble the doll and do whatever he's meant to do."

"So it's not hopeless," said Kingsley, "Anyway, it's important that you get into Hogwarts as soon as possible."

"Into Hogwarts? How? Even if I got in, I'd set off every Alarm in the place."

"Not at all, Danny. You're still a registered student. Remember, Umbridge thinks Dumbledore expelled you and she's resentful that the students think that she was to blame. That, together with your father's status, prevents her, or the rest of the Ministry, thinking of you as a threat, so you've never been removed from the Magical Fabric."

"So I can just walk in?"

"Certainly; and people say that you can do a world-class Disillusionment Charm and a Password Unlocking Charm; so you should be able to enter Ravenclaw and get hold of the original set of dolls before the new set gets to Prokofiev."

"People know that Professor McGonagall can detect my Disillusionment. I take it that she'd cover for me if she had to?"

"Rock solid, Daniel."

"There's one other thing you should know about."

Kingsley took another swig of Polyjuice as Danny explained about the Filipe Smith mystery.

"I'll get that looked into, Danny. And I've got a reminder for you: it's a good idea that you're believed to have gone back to Russia, so don't forget to use your Amulet until you're inside Hogwarts, otherwise you'll be logged at the Ministry."

"Reminder accepted."

"Anything else from you, Danny?"

"How do I get there? It's four times as far as I've ever Apparated and I wouldn't want a Jorrocks car to be seen anywhere near the place."

"I'm not so hot at Apparitions myself but I can rustle up someone to Side-Along you."

"When and where?"

"St James's Park, seems as good a place as any. Give it three hours—say one thirty."

They said their goodbyes. Kingsley left, and Danny went to see if the inestimable Bittles could find him a sandwich.

He was still munching as he sat on the bench in the park, feeding the birds with the crusts that he had saved.

One of the crusts paused in mid-air before carrying onward.

"Ruddy hell, you are good, Professor!" mumbled Danny, "I can't get even a hint of a presence."

"I've been practising hard, Daniel," said Professor Dumbledore's voice.

He showed himself: he and Danny were sharing the Disillusionment.

"Even at my age, I've found room for improvement," said the Professor.

"I bet Scumbag never practises," said Danny.

"No, and nor did your friend, Kryuchkov. You did an excellent job in taking him off the streets. I would like you to tell me the details sometime, but now you have an urgent task."

"If you take me through some intermediate points, I'll be able to make my own way back to London."

"Certainly, Daniel. Now hold on to me . . . are you ready?"

They were off—the familiar blackness, and sense of being squeezed, then bright daylight, specks of rain and a noble and imposing building.

"Lincoln Cathedral," said Professor Dumbledore.

They stopped at Durham Cathedral and Edinburgh Castle before landing at the gates of Hogwarts, by which place it was pouring down.

"Now, Daniel," said the Professor, "Show me your impressive Disillusionment, and I'll wait until you're safely on the Premises."

Danny created an umbrella, Disillusioned, and crossed the threshold.

"Goodbye, Sir!"

"Goodbye, Daniel!"

As he had done many times before, Danny walked, with a cheery song, down the drive to Hogwarts Castle.

— CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — Chocolate

Colin had a wonderful Sunday: after the stresses and strains of the week; after having had too much to do with Snape, i.e. having had something to do with Snape; after a night on a hard floor, he found relaxation at last.

In the morning, he curled up on one of the common room window-seats and read Biggles Flies East.

After lunch with his brother and friends, he went outside, and found a quiet sunny spot in the scrubland above the lake.

Using a spell taught to him by Danny, he magicked up some cushions.

He settled himself comfortably and read The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.

He was only interrupted once: Dennis came, got some cushions from Colin, and read Rupert Annual 1952 and The Tree that Sat Down.

Everything was perfect, even the weather: it clouded over and started to spit just on teatime.

Jonathan had been hard at work writing the famous essay for Snape. Sea Jay had kept him company most of the time, doing more homework than normal for him. They had seen nothing of Filipe Smith.

The rain kept everyone indoors, but the evening was quiet in the common room. Instead of reading they talked about books.

Colin's dorm-mates were purebloods and had grown up with mainly wizard literature, which is not one of the glories of the intellectual world.

Spurred on, more by the Creeveys' enthusiasms than by Muggle Studies, they had ransacked the library and ordered books to be owled in by their parents.

Dennis told them about Rupert and the Mare's Nest, but a much greater time that Sunday evening, was a talk by Ray on Charles Dickens, whose works had suffered a Kelly blitzkrieg over the Easter holidays.

Ray talked about the wonderful stories, characters, language and ideas; about the humour, pathos, mystery and anger; about the great social evils behind some of the writing.

"Time and again," said Ray, "He introduces us to a character of extraordinary appearance, manner, history, thought-pattern and speech. And I would think: 'Oh no, Charlie. This is just mechanical writers' tricks to make us remember the character. Well, you won't draw me in.' And time and again, he did draw me in, and, suddenly there was this three-dimensional human being, as real as if he were standing in front of me."

"Like Professor Moody," said Colin.

"Yes," said Ray, "Spot on. Mad-Eye was straight out of Dickens."

"But he wasn't Mad-Eye," said Dennis, "He was Barty Crouch Junior."

"Only when he was doing bad things like trying to kill Harry Potter," said Ray, "Most of the time he was the real Mad-Eye, and that's what made him such a memorable character."

"Who else do we know who's Dickensian," asked Sea Jay.

"I suppose Snape," said Ray, "He's a typical Dickens villain, though sometimes I think he's too bad to be true."

"As far as I'm concerned, he's the tops," said Colin, "He gave me and "O" for my essay."

"Ratbag!" said Jonny, "You've used up his good will for the next month, and I bet he fails me."

"Well, he is trying to get rid of Umbridge," said Colin, "so maybe it's like Danny says: he's got to be mega-bad to hide the fact that he's mega-good."

"I'll accept good, but never mega-good," laughed Jonny.

The cry First-years to bed! sounded.

Alexander Bell came up: "Are you going to read to us tonight, Colin?"

"Yes; five minutes."

"That's a changed boy, Colin," said Ray, "He used to hang about with the first-years and not say a word. Now he's happy and confident, and I bet his studies go better too."

"Everyone who's a friend of Colin's happy and confident," said Dennis, "Look at you lot, for example!"

"I don't think that's cause and effect either way, Den!" said Colin.

X X X

He went up to the first-years' dormitory after the promised fifteen minutes. He had been tempted to go up early and watch them changing into pyjamas, but he wasn't going to do anything to compromise his focus on Alexander.

He found all five boys in bed, sitting up in anticipation.

There was a chorus of greetings.

He sat on Alexander's bed and leant against the headboard, with an arm around Alexander's shoulders.

"Right," he said, "There's a choice: I either summarise the first half of the story and read the rest, or start again."

Start again was the response.

"Lights out, then!"

In absolute, darkness, except for the eerie glimmer of his wand, Colin started to read.

Two minutes in, Alexander shifted more to his side and pulled down Colin's arm so his hand was by his bottom.

Colin squeezed each buttock, then he had a better idea: he undid Alexander's pyjama-chord and slipped his hand underneath his bottom, so that he could feel the smooth flesh.

As he continued reading, he sometimes stroked or squeezed Alexander's cheeks and sometimes tickled the little bumhole.

Alexander had one arm round Colin, squeezing him tight.

This is Heaven thought Colin, and then, reflecting that Alexander was probably having the very same thought, gave him a little kiss on the forehead between sentences.

The drawing was photographed and then burnt by Dennistoun on the day when he left Comminges on the occasion of his first visit.

There was a murmur of chilled appreciation.

"Give us another, Colin!" said Paul Smith.

"No, there's lessons tomorrow," said Colin.

"Stay here tonight, Colin," whispered Alexander.

"One day soon," he whispered back, and gave Alexander a long kiss, terminated with the briefest of tongue-to tongue contact.

"Night-night, boys," he called.

"Hey, did you just kiss Alexander?" said Euan's voice, "We should all get one."

"Alexander is my special friend," said Colin.

"So he gets the best kiss, and we get an ordinary kiss," said James's voice.

Alexander gave Colin a little push.

"Go on, Colin," he whispered.

Colin gave him a goodnight peck and went round the dormitory doing likewise to the other boys.

Euan, Peter and James all tried unsuccessfully to enhance the length and/or intensity of the pecks. Even pretty little Paul Smith presented a pair of moist lips to Colin.

Danny, you can be proud of your Jiggers, he thought.

With a final goodnight, he went down to the common room.

X X X

"Colin! We thought you'd stay the night," said Sea Jay.

"Yeah, did you just have a quickie?" asked Jonny.

"I read them a story, you filthy-minded beasts," laughed Colin, "and I showed Alexander that Friendship and Love meant more than Sex. The fact that my finger was tickling his bumhole at the time was a minor detail."

"I bet he was like an Imp on Happy Juice," said Sea Jay, "That boy thinks the world of you."

"I'm going to look after him," said Colin.

"How about looking after us?" said Jonny.

"Yeah," said Sea Jay, "We've earned ourselves a Creevey sandwich this week."

"Dennis'll be expecting me," said Colin.

"No he won't," said Sea Jay, "He expected you to stay the night too."

"Well, he'd like a shag, anyway; don't forget I slept in Snape's office last night."

"Yeah, but his dorm'll be closed; you won't get in," said Sea Jay.

"That's okay; Seamus or Dean can get me in."

"That's not fair," said Sea Jay, "disturbing them when their O.W.L.'s are coming up."

"Besides, you'll never get away from Seamus," said Jonny.

"And Dennis'll know," said Sea Jay, "Don't think we haven't noticed the pong that you two sometimes have."

"Dennis won't mind, you twit!"

"He will," said Jonny, "He'll think you let Alexander down."

"No he won't!"

"Alright, go off with Seamus, and leave the pair of us lonely and despairing!" said Sea Jay.

By this time, Colin was kicking his legs in the air with laughter.

"You two deserve to be hanged," he said, "Two arseholes to be stretched."

He leaned forward in a confidential whisper: "I know a third arsehole that needs to be stretched."

Sea Jay whispered: "And I know a fourth arsehole who's pissing us about."

There was a shout from nearby: "I'll never remember the difference between all these Vanishing Spells!"

It was a flustered-looking Ron Weasley.

He was sitting with an equally flustered-looking Harry Potter.

Hermione merely looked slightly annoyed, as she continued looking at her notes and moving her lips—also trying to remember things that might come up in the O.W.L.'s.

"This is where you need Danny Jorrocks to jump on your knee and cheer you up and refocus your mind," said Sea Jay.

"Do you know, I think your right," said Ron, "You don't know what you've got till it's gone."

"Toadface knows what she's got, and it aint gone," said Harry, referring to Danny's giant, unmoveable turd on Umbridge's bed.

"Bless him," said Hermione.

"Yeah, bless him," said Ron, "One of the best."

"Perhaps we could construct a mnemonic," said Hermione.

She was back on Vanishing Spells.

The three boys said goodnight and climbed the stairs.

They did their ablutions and were soon naked, and enclosed in the secure little world that was Sea Jay's bed.

They had three deep and loving snogs.

"Your call, Colin," said Jonny.

"Lie on the bed, face-down, Sea Jay."

Sea Jay complied and Colin bent over the bed so that his bottom was at the corner.

He pulled Sea Jay down, so that Colin's head was above the wondrously hairy bum

Then he buried his face in the crack and felt the silky buttocks against his cheeks.

He withdrew a little and told Sea Jay: "You rotter! You've had a shower!"

"Sorry, Colin," said Sea Jay, "Sunday's our shower day. You should know that by now. Anyway, at least we wash off the shower gel."

"A bad workman blames his tools," said Jonny, from the rear.

"Talking of tools," said Colin, "where's yours?"

He buried his head again, and started licking Sea Jay's bumhole. This had taken a pounding from Jonny for years, and opened up like a flower to Colin's tongue.

He could feel Jonny's willy nudging in, and, very quickly, it was Colin's bumhole that was taking the pounding.

Jonny's willy was thin, but it was just that little bit thicker than Seamus's; and that made all the difference to a boy who has gone a long time without a proper stretching.

Besides, Jonny's was long, so the strokes were long, allowing more to-and-fro distortion of Colin's ringpiece.

Jonny lasted a good few minutes before coming with noisy vocal sounds and noisy slappings against Colin's bumcheeks.

As soon as Jonny pulled out, Colin was up on the bed, lying on his back, with his knees by his ears.

Sea Jay was up quickly too, and pressing his slippery tip against Colin's more-then-ready bumhole.

He felt the exquisite pain as Sea Jay jabbed into him, each nudge stretching him more as the giant glans pushed further in.

Then Sea Jay was gently shagging him.

Jonny knew what to do: he squatted and more-or-less sat on Colin's face, allowing Sea Jay to take Jonny's penis into his mouth, and Colin to lick Jonny's wonderful bumhole.

As Sea Jay plunged harder, Jonny reached under, with both hands, and found Colin's nipples. He scratched them gently, but quickly, with his fingernails.

Sea Jay was fully at it now, and Colin felt pain again as his anus was stretched and unstretched as the mighty tree-trunk that was the base of Sea Jay's penis moved backward and forward.

But the pain was just one component of the pleasure-package that was enveloping Colin.

His tongue was well inside Jonny, and he felt a sublime togetherness with his two friends.

Every ram from Sea Jay was pushing him nearer to orgasm, and, at last, it came: wave after wave of pleasure, as his balls emptied until the last half-dozen strokes must have been totally dry.

He had been squealing all this time, and his squeals propelled Sea Jay into his own climax.

He had often seen Sea Jay come and knew that he was a great spurter. As Sea Jay gruntingly made a dozen last, slow thrusts, Colin thought how wonderful it was that this new gush should join Jonny's offering inside him in token of the great love his two friends had for each other, and the lesser, but still deep, love between them and Colin.

What a wonderful thing sex was.

Regrettably, they had to separate themselves.

There was quite a mess. As they cleaned up, Colin said: "That's what I call a real shafting."

They settled down to sleep.

As Colin lay—the filling in the sandwich—he thought that next time they should have Dennis there.

And wouldn't it be wonderful to have Danny there?

Never mind: this was something pretty special: the two lovers were basically embracing each other with Colin in the middle.

His last thought before he fell asleep was: One day I'll do all that with Alexander.

X X X

Monday morning: the second week of term.

Colin knew his timetable already: Creatures, English, Charms, Muggles, History.

A good day: no Snape.

He giggled as he thought of the dappled mouse scurrying over Snape's floor.

"What's the laugh?" asked a sleepy-sounding Sea Jay.

Colin told him.

"What's the time?"

"Time for a kiss, then time to get up."

They acted out the scenario, then woke Jonny up.

When they reached the Great Hall, Dennis noticed Colin's gait, and diagnosed it at once: "Colin! Did Alexander do that?"

"No, try nearer home," said Colin.

"Well done, you two!" said Dennis, "Now tell me about Alexander."

Between mouthfuls of breakfast, Colin told all—from the reading of the ghost story to the final restful sleep of the three happy boys.

During Colin's narrative, the first-years entered. Alexander diverted to Colin, and slapped him on the shoulder with a hearty Alright Colin!

There was another diversion: Filipe Smith came up and addressed Sea Jay and Jonathan: "Hiya boys! I missed you yesterday; what about a chat after lunch?"

The boys, of course, eagerly agreed.

When his breakfast was over, Colin went and sat with Yuri.

"Filipe's got off with my friends Sea Jay and Jonny," he said, "Have you found out anything more?"

"Nothing significant," said Yuri, "I had a good chance yesterday: I was looking for you, and I saw Virion White, who shares dormitory with Filipe. He was with his boyfriend, Pucey. I went up to them and said I was worried I was gay and asked for a heart-for-heart."

"A heart-to-heart," said Colin, "That was brilliant."

"So we talked about being gay, and how nice it was, and I asked them how many gay boys there were in Hogwarts.

"They said a few, but there were more just being gay because they couldn't get at the girls.

"And I told Virion I liked older boys, so I had looked closely at the seventh-years in our house to see if any were perhaps gay.

"He laughed and said he was the only one in his dorm, which was lucky because it meant he'd saved himself up for his Adrian.

"I said had he noticed Smith was looking to go out with younger boys. Weird, he said, Smith had always liked girls. Apart from that he'd been quiet to the point of secretive.

"Then this term, he suddenly liked boys and chocolates."

"Chocolates?" said Colin.

"Yes," said Yuri, "Virion said Roger Davies had seen tons in his trunk and he never hands them out. Virion and Davies had pinched a few—high-class Muggle chocolates; absolutely delicious, they said. Yuri must have connection."

They parted and Yuri agreed to be Colin's guardian at lunchtime.

Colin couldn't wait that long: they were fairly soaked after Professor Grubbly-Plank's lesson and, feeling in need of a bit of cheering-up, he hustled Yuri into the bogs.

He found a cubicle, sat Yuri down and sucked him off. It was marvellous to have that skinny white willy in his mouth and the smell of the sweaty golden hair in his nose; but the marvel didn't last long, and, very soon, a hot gush erupted against his upper palate.

Damn! he thought: he'd forgotten a snog; Danny always said that sex should begin with a snog.

He got out his own willy, hoping that Yuri would toss him off: he didn't expect the untrained boy to be ready for anything more, but, still seated, Yuri opened his mouth and gobbled up Colin.

He imitated Colin's actions with mouth and hand, and added his own extra: bum fondling with the tip of a finger inside Colin's anus at the critical moment.

Yuri swallowed Colin's cum like a man, and they tidied themselves up and left the cubicle.

Little Stewart Ackerley, a Ravensclaw second-year, was standing at the urinals. Turning and seeing the boys, he said: "Alright, Yuri!"

"Alright, Stewart," said Yuri, as they went out.

Colin ruffled Stewart's hair and saved the sweet little boy's embarrassment by not telling him that he was pissing on his shoes.

"See yer lunchtime, Yuri!" he said, as he hurried to Mrs Englishen-Latin.

Bloody hell! He'd forgotten the snog again.

The rest of the morning went well.

Colin felt alert and on top of his wizarding form. Even the demanding Professor McGonagall would have had no grounds for complaint.

It was still pouring down at lunchtime, so, after Sea Jay and Jonny had gone off with Filipe Smith, Colin and Dennis sat down with Yuri in the common room.

Dennis was in a teasing mood.

"Did you like Colin's willy?" he asked.

"Of course," said Yuri.

"Did you like tasting his cum?"

"Yes, very much."

"Do you prefer the taste of Colin's cum to all the other boys?"

"Oh, stop teasing, Den!" said Colin, "You know he hasn't been with other boys."

"Then we ought to do a line-up for Yuri so he can be sure you're the best."

"I don't believe there's such a thing as best, Den—just different."

Dennis counted on his fingers, then said: "I've tasted nine boys, and I know you're the best!"

Further discussion was postponed as Adam Watts came up with his boyfriend, James Poxon.

"Rainy day, chaps," he said, "I've been saving these."

"Wow! Adam! Are they real?" said Colin.

"These were all meant to be Destroyed!" said Dennis.

"Yeah, MacKenzie's still in Azkaban," said Colin, "Where did you get them?"

"Ask no questions," said Adam.

Them was a pack of cards, labelled Top Rumps.

After a lifetime trying, a scholarly wizard called Guggenheim had come up with a Notbythecover Charm to enable him to read books without opening them and turning the pages.

The spell was a complete failure, but a rogue called Kelvin Mackenzie had adapted it so he could produce high-quality, colour pictures of people's skin under their clothes.

He compiled a gallery of bums of all the professional Quidditch players, had them printed on playing cards and created a matching set of faces.

The resultant invasion-of-privacy case was a sensation. After Mackenzie had been given a two-year stretch, and the unfortunate Guggenheim a severe admonishment, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge had appeared in the Prophet calling Mackenzie The Unacceptable Face of Homosexuality. The newsvendors made a lot of sales that day, with the slogan: Read all about it! The unacceptable arse talks about the unacceptable face.

The game was simplicity itself: a player put down a face or a bum, and the next player would put down a bum or a face and claim if he thought he had a match. The stack-to-date went according to the truth.

The five boys had a riotous game.

Dennis was the first to drop out, because he was useless.

Yuri was the second to drop out, because Dennis had put him off by crawling under the table and sucking his willy.

It is of note that, although James had denied Adam any pre-marital sexual contact, he was not a prude, and thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of sex, except actually doing it.

Two o'clock approached and there was no time to finish the game.

Dennis emerged from underneath the table, shouting: "Ten!"

Sea Jay and Jonny met them at the entrance.

Sea Jay said: "Meeting at seven thirty, Adam; I've told Adrian."

As they walked Muggle Studies, Colin asked: "What's it all about, lads?"

"Buggered if we know!" said Jonny.

X X X

Colin was curious. Seven thirty couldn't come soon enough.

At last the committee of eight were assembled.

"Tell us about it lads," said Ray Kelly, "and don't bother about Stewart's sensibilities."

"Well," began Sea Jay, "we met Filipe after lunch as you know. He'd obviously got it all planned out. He took us to the Old Muniments Room—you know, where Danny had the very first JIGS meeting.

"He put some top-class protection on the door—N.E.W.T.'s level—I bet he does well.

"Anyway, I got him standing up and I bent down to give him a sucking. He really liked that!"

"Then I came in from behind and stuck it up his bum," said Jonny, "He did not like that!"

"But, for whatever reason, he'd called us out, and he had to put up with it," said Sea Jay, "And put up with it he did: he was soon stiff again, and he shot off before Jonny was anywhere near coming, which is not surprising considering recent history."

There was a bit of giggling.

"So he was post-orgasm and being given a right shafting," said Sea Jay.

"I could almost feel his body cringing away from me," said Jonny.

"And it was dead funny: he kept remembering himself and saying it was wonderful and this was the best day of his life," said Sea Jay.

"Hypocritical, hetero cheater!" said Jonny, "Don't be offended Ray and Stewart; I've got nothing against heteros except when they use an act of Friendship and Love to achieve some covert bit of nastiness."

"And that's the sixty-four thousand and seven Galleon question," said Sea Jay, "We still haven't a clue what it's all about, though it might be something to do with chocolates."

Some of the boys looked slightly surprised.

"Chocolates?" said Ray.

"Yeah," said Jonny, "When I pulled my willy out of him, he pulled up his pants and reached in his pocket. I thought he was getting a cig like lots of people do after sex, but he pulled out a fancy bag with a ribbon round the top and offered us a chocolate."

"Then Jonny was ever-so-quick-thinking," said Sea Jay, "He put his hand in the bag and said one for you to Filipe; and one for you to me, but he winked, so I knew I wasn't to eat it; and one for me, he said.

"Then he was brave and ate his before Filipe."

"What happened?" asked Stewart.

"Nothing. Jonny ate his; Filipe ate his; and I pretended to eat mine, but I pocketed it."

"It was okay," said Jonny, "Dark chocolate and cherry liqueur; very tasty, in fact."

"What happened then?" asked Ray.

"I offered him the bag back, but he said no," said Jonny, "He said his father got them as one of the perks of his job, so please keep it, and could he see us again every few days—not every day, as he was behind with his revision, so we went our separate ways having agreed to meet on Wednesday."

"The chocolates are a new thing," said Adrian, "Virion told me today. He's never shown a sweet tooth before; and then he turned up last Monday with a trunkful of chocolates."

"Are you sure he was hetero?" asked Stewart.

"A hundred percent," said Sea Jay.

"So it's a ruse," said Stewart, "And why should anyone create a ruse so as to give harmless chocolates to a pair of schoolboys?"

There was silence.

Then Dennis said: "Danny would know!"

"Yes," said Colin, "Oh, Danny, where are you when we need you?"

"I'm here!" said a voice.

"DANNEE!"

— CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO — Back to Hogwarts

There was great joy in Danny's soul as he approached the great castle door.

He had spent seven and a bit terms here, learning a lot about wizardry and a lot about humans. He had had his first sex here, and since he had become a man, had twice-a-day, or so, joined with his friends in confirming that sex is the true crown of friendship.

Now he was going to see his friends again—see and not be seen, for the most part, as security was important.

An exception would have to be made for his brothers. Even had they not been the partners in his current task, he would have still shown himself, and rejoiced in their love and enthusiastic physicality.

There was no alarm as he passed through the door, so he was still officially a student.

He Vanished his umbrella, smiling as he remembered Hagrid's broken wand, and made directly for Ravenclaw Tower.

It was a good time to arrive, as afternoon classes had just begun, and there was no-one about.

He crossed his mental fingers as he reached Ravenclaw, but there was no need: his Password-Cracker and Juvie Charm got him inside. As far as the door was concerned everything was normal and a bona fide student had entered.

The common room was empty, as he passed through on his way to the dorms.

The first room he entered was for little boys; the second was for sixth- or seventh-years, to judge by the clothes and delicious, fusty smell.

The next room looked promising. There were five beds, but he remembered that there had been only four fifth-year boys in Ravenclaw when he left.

He expected to have to root through flyleaves, letters, tags, etc., before being able to put a name to each set of possessions; but it turned out to be much easier: one of the trunks was new.

Eagerly, he started his search.

Yes! this was the boy: the odd Russian book and garment; some parchments in handwritten Cyrillic; an empty Moscow gum-packet.

But no Matryoshka dolls.

He went through the trunk methodically; he tested for Concealment Charms; he went over the wardrobe and the bed.

He tried Accio! Dolls! but, without a clear psychic image of the dolls in context of their position, he had no chance.

He sat down on Prokofiev's bed and thought.

The worst possible case was that the three dolls had arrived by owl that morning, that they had sailed through Umbridge's censorship, and that Prokofiev had assembled the set

Then what?

If it was a weapon, could it really have been used with no apparent disruption to school life?

The first thing to do was check that Harry Potter was okay.

He went down to the Ravenclaw common room and removed some of the notices to get to the timetables that had been pinned up in September.

He read Colin's notice with amusement and understanding: the intensely beautiful, scarcely fifteen-year-old boy must now be at the peak of his attraction and, no doubt, half the school were dreaming—and dripping—about him.

Harry was enduring a double Umbridge.

Before checking on him, Danny considered the other possibility: that Prokofiev had found somewhere secure to hide the dolls.

He went back to the dorm and tried to empathise with a boy looking for a hiding-place in his new school.

He found Prokofiev's pyjamas under the pillow and smelt them: the usual wonderful adolescent odours. A little dried cum.

He thought as deeply as he could, but had no insights.

Umbridge's classroom had no windows to the corridor, so he went to the broom sheds and selected the oldest broom—he didn't want to be whisked about at thirty miles an hour by one of the new-generation broomsticks.

He walked the broom to the castle and bravely hovered himself outside the DADA classroom window.

Harry was okay, thank goodness, looking as bored as the rest of the class.

He checked over the sexpots: Ron, Dean, Neville, Seamus—all fine, and all worth a screw.

Prokofiev's pyjamas had given Danny the horn, and the sight of the five boys caused his willy to lurch.

But he had other appetites to satisfy first.

He lowered himself, and set the broom at a low-level crawl towards the castle gates.

He dumped the broom, Apparated to Edinburgh Castle, and found a caff where he could have a bacon roll and a cup of tea.

He bought some crisps and biscuits, Disillusioned, and Apparated back to Hogwarts.

He rode back to the broom sheds, and made his way to Ravenclaw.

He quickly identified Filipe Smith's bed and searched his belongings.

There was absolutely nothing sinister. The only unusual thing was the presence of a score, or so, bags of chocolates in the boy's trunk. He put this down to a Mundungus-like commercial urge.

The next thing to do was to latch on to Prokofiev.

The boy was at Divination and Danny wasn't going anywhere near the classroom: Centaurs were unusual creatures. He didn't now how well Disillusionment worked on them, and wasn't going to experiment with Firenze.

At four fifteen prompt, the students started coming down the corridor. Danny had no trouble picking up Prokofiev: even had he not been the only unknown boy, the dark blond hair and Slavic features would have identified him.

He was walking with Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein. They were talking about the difficulties of Divination: that some things may be pre-destined, but is it really possible to foresee them?

They were interrupted by Mandy Brocklehurst, Dennis's fancy. She had come ebulliently down the corridor and called: "Yuri, my little Russian Poppet!"

She flung an arm around him and loudly said: "I've just heard what you were up to during break! At the rate we're both going, we're going to be in-laws!"

"We can check that with Firenze next time," said Prokofiev.

So Prokofiev and Colin had done something during break. Danny was much cheered at the good news: it meant Prokofiev hard passed the test.

Then Danny's heart sank: what if his owl had been held up? Prokofiev wouldn't yet have been tested, and innocent Colin might be taking a wrong-un on trust.

But as Prokofiev and Mandy chaffed, with some other Ravenclaws joining in, Danny started feeling comfortable with the boy.

Danny knew from Nicolai that Prokofiev had had a bad childhood, and had just come from four years in a privileged, but strict and loveless régime.

There was a sense of blossoming, of relishing every moment; a sense of a prisoner who had been freed.

He followed Prokofiev up to his dorm, where he dumped his stuff.

"Rain's stopped," said Terry Boot, "I'm for a breath of fresh air."

Everyone felt the same, and people were milling about the school, a little more closely than usual, because, after all the rain, people preferred the hard rather than the lawn.

Then Danny saw THEM.

They were standing talking to Sea Jay and Jonathan.

Danny abandoned Prokofiev, who was no immediate threat, and made his way over to the Creeveys. He had never been in such a crowd while Disillusioned before, and found it fascinating how people casually stepped aside to make way for him, and nobody noticed a thing.

Colin appeared to be talking about a card game.

"No you're only making a claim if you say so when you play the card. If you play an arse on a face, you've got to say 'I sit on your face' . . ."

". . . And if you play a face on an arse," continued Dennis, "you've got to say 'I kiss your arse'. . ."

". . . And if you're right, the cards say 'It's me', and you pick up the stack . . ."

". . . And if you're wrong, the cards fart, and the first player picks up the stack."

"And Dennis was first out, so he hid under the table and sucked Yuri off."

"So Yuri's had a complete Creevey service today," said Dennis.

"Sounds a good game," said Jonny, "Let's get Adam to bring the pack over, and we can have a game after the committee meeting."

"Does that mean we'll be free after the meeting?" said Colin, "That means your news can't be important."

"You won't wheedle it out of us that way, Colin," said Sea Jay, "We're a committee of eight, and it goes before the full committee at seven thirty."

A gong sounded.

"Din-dins!" said Dennis, and the four boys wandered towards the castle.

Danny had a pretty clear picture of the Prokofiev situation by now.

Sea Jay's and Jonny's news might have something to do with Filipe Smith.

The committee of eight had worried him at first, but then he decided that the Creeveys could be relied on to recruit only trustworthy people: Adam was a good move, as he was in the same house as the two stars of the show; Ray and Stewart were probables; and he guessed that Adrian would be the eighth.

He went for a walk round the lake. The Sun was coming out, as he munched his food.

He fantasised about what he would like to do: a night with his brothers; a session with Sea Jay and Jonathan; a night with Adrian; a Saturday in the dorm; a Jiggers' no-holes-barred summer party.

Then he debated what he ought to do: should he make himself known to the full committee? In the end, he decided not to: it wasn't that he didn't trust them, but accidents will happen, and the fewer people who knew that Danny Jorrocks was not in Russia, the better.

There was one fantasy that was possible; something he'd always meant to do.

He refreshed his Disillusionment Charm, and walked back to the castle.

X X X

Danny went into the downstairs lavvy and climbed up onto the broad, white-tiled window-ledge.

They were all at dinner, but would soon be pouring out of the Great Hall; and, the weather being fine, some of them would be going outside and plenty of boys would want a pee on the way.

He made himself comfortable and settled down to watch the show.

The first to enter were two Ravenclaw first years, whose names he didn't know, and two Gryffindor Jiggers: Peter Jones and James Carter.

There were tall separators in the urinals, so, in the case of one of the Ravenclaws and Peter Jones, there was no show, as they stood close to the wall.

The other Ravenclaw and James Carter stood back to avoid splashing themselves. Danny saw a tiny willy from one, and a handsome, light brown Bludger from James, who pissed out gallons, while casually glancing at the miniature.

This was to be the pattern for the rest of the display: some boys hiding it, and some showing it; some boys staring ahead, and some taking in the view.

When James had finished, he extravagantly shook and squeezed himself dry. You're going to be a popular boy, thought Danny.

More boys were crowding in now. Danny knew most of them, but was delighted to get a sighting of a few willies he hadn't seen before: Owen Cauldwell and Kevin Whitby, two delightful Hufflepuff second-years; Jack Sloper and Ritchie Coote, two sixth-year beaters from his own house, with two big sixth-year willies; Claude Miles, the Slytherin captain.

Little Nick White, from Danny's dormitory, came in, had a quick pee, demonstrating in the course of it that he was still pre-pubescent, and left without looking at anyone.

By contrast, Chris Gillies, blatantly stared at every visible willy, prolonging his stay by two minutes, in order to add to his bag. Danny was surprised: he had known that Chris was willy-conscious, but interest seemed to be smearing into lust.

After the initial flood, Danny had few guests, so he was pleased when big Cormac McLaggan came in. Cormac was a self-centred know-all; and a right bossy-boots.

However, a willy is a willy.

Don't splash yourself thought Danny, and Cormac obliged, pissing furiously, and shaking his beefy willy dry extravagantly.

In the course of its shaking, Cormac's willy got bigger and bigger, so that, by the time he had squeezed the last drop out, the squeezing had become an act of masturbation.

Cormac wanked in a steady, businesslike way, but was interrupted when James Poxon, Adam's fiancé entered.

Cormac stuffed his willy away and left quickly.

James Poxon had a discreet pee and left Danny to himself.

There was only one act of sex, and that left Danny rather frustrated: Claude Miles a Slytherin sixth-year, a known non-practising gay, came in and stood at the end urinal. He took his willy out and, making no attempt at peeing, rubbed it gently towards erection.

A minute later, another sixth-year, Owen Cadwallader of Hufflepuff, came in and entered a cubicle.

After a quick glance round, Miles followed Cadwallader in.

The two boys lowered their underpants and embraced each other tightly face-to-face. They then rubbed their willies against each other until both the boys had climaxed.

Danny could observe all this down to chest-level only, which was annoying: he had seen Cadwallader's whopper in its limp state, and would have loved to have seen it erect and in action.

Miles left quickly, and Cadwallader stayed in the locked cubicle for a minute before leaving at a leisurely pace.

There was one more visitor: Michael Summerby of Hufflepuff had a pee without giving Danny the briefest glimpse.

Danny took this as a signal to go: it was a quarter past seven and the lads would be meeting soon.

There had been very few fifth- and seventh-years. The exams were getting very close.

X X X

In the fourth-year dormitory, where Danny had participated in so many joyous exchanges of bodily fluids, he made himself comfortable in a chair and waited for the boys to arrive.

After a few minutes Danny began to wonder if he'd got the venue wrong.

Then he heard Dennis's voice: "I'll be Chairman. I call this meeting to disorder!"

Danny's two brothers burst in with Sea Jay and Jonny.

The other four appeared shortly afterwards, and it was Ray Kelly who actually called the meeting to order.

Danny was as mystified as the rest of them about the chocolate affair.

All he could think of was dirty old men luring children away with sweeties prior to rape and murder. This didn't seem applicable to Filipe Smith.

His doubts about revealing himself to all eight boys were much reduced by the obvious teamwork and secrecy they were employing—he had been impressed by the protection they had put on the dormitory.

When Colin said Oh, Danny, where are you when we need you?, he took it as his cue.

As might be expected, there was uproar: a confusion of shouting, kisses, cuddles, and bouncing around. Danny even got a kiss from the big African lips of Stewart Appiah.

There was wonder at how tall Danny was; hope that he was back forever; faith that he would solve the mysteries; love to Brian.

Eventually Danny calmed them down and spoke to them:

"Listen boys, the chocolates are number two priority. Number one is Yuri Prokofiev. I believe he has in his possession a set of Russian dolls—you know, the sort that fit inside each other. I think he's concealed them about the school and it's absolutely essential that we find out where."

The uproar started again: this time eight boys were howling with laughter.

"What is it?" said Danny, when he could make himself heard, "Is there a bogie on my nose?"

"Oh, Danny!" gasped Sea Jay, "There's something under your nose!"

Danny looked round the room.

There, on the window-ledge, were three Russian dolls.

"Bloody Merlin!" he said, "How did you get these?"

"Yuri gave them to me," said Colin.

"Gave them to you? That proves his probity: he was sent here by bad Russian people to smuggle half a weapon into Hogwarts. The other half never arrived and he gave you his half to ensure that the two halves would never be joined."

"I thought they were a bit loose," said Dennis.

"Colin, you'd better tell me everything that's happened since your last owl," said Danny.

With some interpolations from Dennis, Colin told Danny the story: Filipe Smith switching his attentions; the search for Veritaserum; Snape's visitor; Colin's intimacies with Yuri.

"So it's all worked out fine," he concluded, "Yuri's on our side; Snape's on our side; the chocolates are harmless, even though we don't know what they mean."

"I think I've got a line on the chocolates," said Danny.

"I told you Danny would know!" shouted Dennis.

"Think about it," said Danny, "Voldemort and the Ministry, for different reasons, want Harry Potter out of Hogwarts. So, one or the other invites, bribes, blackmails, bullies or Imperiuses Filipe Smith to set him up."

"Why someone from Ravenclaw?" asked Ray, "Those senior Slytherins would be queuing up to do the job—sorry Adrian."

"No need to be sorry, Ray," said Adrian, "It's true. And everyone knows it. That's why they didn't use a Slytherin boy: it would be so suspicious, that it wouldn't have a hope of working."

Stewart said: "And I suppose they didn't go for Harry directly, or someone in his dorm, because that would be suspicious—specially as none of them are gay."

"So they told Filipe to go for our dorm," said Ray, "He failed to get Colin, but he got Sea Jay and Jonny. But I still don't see what the chocolates have to do with it."

"Suppose the three of you had a torrid affair," said Danny, "He'd shower you with bags of chocolates—I've seen them; he's got twenty or more bags in his trunk—and then what would happen?"

"We'd get fat!" laughed Sea Jay.

"One of us is running that way already," said Jonny.

"Well spotted!" said Sea Jay—Jonny was a martyr to acne.

The two boys laughed and cuddled each other.

"Apart from that," laughed Danny, "You two generous boys would offer them around in the common room."

"Bring 'em on!" said Stewart.

"So we all get treats," said Ray, "Harmless treats."

"Sooner or later," said Danny, "Harry Potter, who loves Honeydukes, would eat one."

"And he'd die!" said Colin.

"I don't think he'd die," said Danny, "But he'd do something to get him expelled from Hogwarts. Away from the castle's protection, Voldemort would have a much better chance of capturing him."

"I'm at it again," said Ray, "I still don't understand why capture and not kill."

Danny thought for a while. Then he said: "You're all so far in, that I think I must tell you. But listen: this really is secret and you must never discuss it or pass it on unless it's massively essential."

The boys promised, and Danny continued:

"Years ago Professor Trelawney made a prophecy about Harry and Voldemort."

There was a lot of laughter.

"Yes, I know she's a complete fraud," continued Danny, "But she has got seers' blood in her, and occasionally she comes out with a genuine prophecy. Amusingly for someone who's supposedly teaching the subject, she can't remember a word afterwards.

"So you can see why Voldemort's so keen to get it, and why he can't kill Harry. Suppose the prophecy was The Dark Lord will die the day after Harry Potter."

There was a murmur of understanding.

"What's the mechanism of these chocolates?" asked Ray.

"We're not meant to know," said Danny, "It's Dark Magic. It's known as a Targeted Potion—brewed like Polyjuice, with something from the victim—hairs or nail clippings."

"That is so evil!" said Sea Jay.

"I suppose," said Danny, "Some people might call it a Special Potion, Special P for short."

There were gasps of utter astonishment.

"But . . . but Snape's trying to get rid of Umbridge," said Colin, "He can't want Harry out as well!"

"Colin," said Danny, "You said Yuri's on our side, which I believe. You also said Snape's on our side, which I also believe; but in Snape's case there are big complications.

"What was the name of Snape's visitor, Col?"

"Pettigrew."

"Has anyone heard that name before?"

There was silence and then Ray Kelly suddenly said "Got it! The wizard Sirius Black murdered!"

"Or didn't," said Danny, "Many people, including Harry Potter, believe that Pettigrew faked his death and framed Black for a non-existent murder. Whether Snape's Pettigrew is that same man or a relative, I assure you he is in very close contact with Voldemort."

There were distressed gasps.

"So Snape's taking orders from Voldemort," said Ray.

"Snape's receiving orders from Voldemort," said Danny, "I don't think he carries them out—at least not to the letter."

"We must tell Professor Dumbledore!" said Ray.

"I'm sure Dumbledore knows and approves," said Danny, "Consider how useful it is to have someone on your side who the enemy thinks is actually on his side and is his spy in your camp."

"Dumbledore trusts Snape," said Colin, "I heard Hermione say that once."

"We can prove it either way," said Sea Jay, "I've still got that chocolate. If it's harmless, Snape's a goodie; if it's harmful to Harry, he's a baddie."

"Good point," said Danny, "We need to get it analysed."

"Can someone else say it for me," laughed Ray.

There was silence.

"Alright. I still want to know why Voldemort wants Umbridge out of here."

"How do you think Forna's spelt," asked Danny.

"F-O-R-N-A," said Ray.

"Suppose it were F-A-U-N-A?"

"Voldemort wants the animals out of here?" gasped Adam.

"Come on Stewart," said Danny, "You went to a good Muggle prep school. You've got a good classical education. Who was Fauna?"

Stewart thought for a moment, then said: "Roman goddess . . . goddess of . . . prophecy—oh!"

"Trelawney!" they all shouted.

"Precisely," said Danny, "Voldemort wants to get hold of Trelawney to find out what the prophecy is; and he wants to get hold of Harry Potter, his enemy and the joint subject of the prophecy. Both Trelawney and Harry are under the protection of Hogwarts and Voldemort has ordered the wizard he thinks is his agent within Hogwarts to get them out."

"What happens now?" asked Ray.

"I can think of only one thing," said Danny, "To get these dolls, and your chocolate, Sea Jay, back to safety in London."

"Then are you coming back?" asked Dennis.

"Yeah, there's unfinished business here. When there's a tap on the window, come down and let me in."

Without even stopping for a kiss, Danny collected the dolls and the chocolate, Disillusioned, got the boys to let him out, and set off down the drive.

He Apparated to the public phone box and called Kingsley, who was in.

There was very romantic music playing in the background, as Kingsley's voice said: "Yeah?"

"I've got that present for your niece. I'm travelling now. Can you meet me in Trafalgar Square? It'll save you getting dressed up."

"Thank God for that! I'm on my way."

Thirty minutes later, Danny was leaning on the railings in front of the National Gallery apologising to a handsome man for interrupting his date.

— CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — Dolls, Chocolate, Cream

There was great joy amongst the members of the committee.

After the jabbering had died down for a bit, Ray Kelly, as gay-supportive as any lovestruck hetero could possibly be, made a suggestion: "Adrian and Adam: My guess is that Danny's only staying for one night, so why don't you sleep here?"

"I don't like to impose," said Adrian, "Besides, where would we sleep?"

"Well that bed's usually got two in it, and so's one of these two, so there's room for two in the spare bed."

Ray had demonstrated that you don't have to be blind to turn two blind eyes.

"Sounds great," said Adam, "But we wouldn't want to offend you."

"I suggest," said Ray, "that, to allow you to express yourselves fully, Stewart and I sleep somewhere else—if that's okay with you, Stewart?"

"Of course, it's okay," said Stewart. "Shall we bunk down in the common room?"

"More comfortably, old boy. I hate to trick a good witch like Madam Pomfrey, but, if we went to the hospital wing and reported dizzy spells, she'd keep us in overnight."

"She'd just think it was Weasley's Fainting Fancies."

"She's got a test for that, and obviously we'd be negative."

"Let's go, then; no time like the present. Take something to read: they've only got kids' books there."

"You can escort us, Colin," said Ray, and for God's sake don't laugh.

As they passed through the common room, Hermione said: "Where are you lot going? It's nearly curfew."

"Taking these two to the hospital wing, Hermione," said Colin, "They've been having dizzy spells."

"Oh, dear!" said Hermione, "I hope it's not infectious. Thank Heavens you haven't got O.W.L's."

The thought of O.W.L's diverted Hermione, and she murmured a vague "Off you go, then."

When presented with Ray and Stewart, Madam Pomfrey held a slip of pink paper to their foreheads. When it failed to turn blue, she said: "We'd better keep you in overnight for isolation and observation. You were quite right to bring them here, Colin, dear."

Colin made his way back to Gryffindor and told Hermione what had happened.

In the Dormitory, the six boys were in a sort of nowhere: chatting about the exciting events, but always with half an ear for a tap on the window.

Then, instead of the window, there was a knock on the door.

"Someone else let him in!" shouted Dennis, running to open the door.

It was Ron Weasley.

"Colin," he called, "that Russian boy, Prokofiev, wants to see you. I'm not letting him into the house at this time of night."

Colin ran down and saw Yuri at the portrait hole.

"Hi, Yuri!"

"Colin, the dolls I gave you, you must destroy them!"

"Come in, sit down and tell me all about it."

They sat on a sofa.

Ron came up: "Colin, we can't have boys from other houses here. It's night time."

"Sorry, Ron; just two minutes."

Ron persisted: "And you've got more of 'em in your dorm. Dennis locked the door and someone else put a massive protective spell on it."

"Sorry, Ron; just two minutes."

"I am a prefect, you know."

"Sorry, Ron; just two minutes, please!"

Ron backed off, muttering.

"Now, go on Yuri," said Colin.

"I did not tell you lies, but I did not tell you the whole truth. The dolls were half a weapon."

"Yeah, we know, and Nicolai was meant to bring in the other half. But Nicolai ran away so it's a useless weapon."

"Colin, the other half arrived by owl this evening."

Colin thought: Danny must have known it was coming; that was why he was in such a panic.

He squeezed Yuri's hand and laughed.

"Don't worry, Yuri," he said, "We got my half of the weapon away to safety an hour and a half ago."

"Thank goodness, you little marvel."

"It wasn't me, it was . . . teamwork."

"Well it's relieved me so much.

"That's more than two minutes," called Ron.

"Sorry, Ron; he meant three minutes," said Yuri, hugging Colin goodnight and cheerfully climbing through the portrait hole.

"What's going on Colin?" asked Hermione, "Were Ray and Stewart really ill?"

"They'll probably be alright in the morning," said Colin.

Ron opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Colin told him: "You are an ace prefect, Ron," which kept him quiet long enough for Colin to escape.

Upstairs, he had to knock to get in.

"Adrian put a Danny-strength block on the door," said Dennis.

"Well done, Adrian," said Colin, "I bet you skate through your N.E.W.T.'s."

"Don't remind me," said Adrian, "First exam in a fortnight."

"It's not fair how they make Education spoil school life," said Dennis.

"What did Yuri want?" asked Sea Jay.

Colin explained, and they discussed possible explanations for the arrival of (presumably) the other dolls, though without getting anywhere.

X X X

Then they were back in Limbo, waiting for Danny's tap.

They were so tense that some of the boys went without an erection for substantial periods.

Then, some time before midnight, it came: three quiet taps.

Dennis went to wave out the window to let Danny know that they'd heard, and Colin galloped out the room and down the stairs.

There were only Harry and his friends left in the common room.

"Oh, Colin!" said Hermione, "What are you doing now? You should be asleep."

"And those foreigners should be out of the house!" said Ron.

"I've just got to pop out for a minute," said Colin.

"Colin, you can't!" said Hermione, "It could be dangerous. These are bad times, or had you forgotten."

"No. Constant Vigilance! Back in a jiff."

"I'm coming with you, then."

"And me," said Ron.

"There's no need," said Colin, "It's just a quick thing I've got to do."

He went through the portrait hole, along the corridor, and down the complicated stair-system at full tilt.

He could hear them behind him, and pressed harder.

He reached the Entrance Hall.

"Colin, No! Not the door!" he heard Hermione shout, but he ignored her and pulled the bar back.

He heard Petrificus Totalus! and was on the floor, unable to move.

"Oh well; at least it wasn't Stupefy! " he thought.

The door slowly creaked open, as in an old Muggle horror film.

Hermione and Ron were at the ready: sideways-on, with arms outstretched, wands pointing towards the door.

Colin felt himself released, and got to his feet.

The two wands suddenly whisked out of the prefects' hands, and disappeared.

"Oh, Colin! What have you done?" gasped Hermione.

The door closed and the bar was replaced.

Then, there he was.

"Danny!"

Danny gave them back their wands.

"Ronnie," said Danny, "Your mouth is so wide open that I'm sure it wouldn't be inconvenient to give me a snog. No? Well, come here, my lovely girl!"

Danny and Hermione hugged.

"Danny, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Just a couple of little Dark Side problems, which you'll be glad to know have been solved."

"What problems?"

"Sorry, need-to-know—a concept that you understand well."

"What's going on? . . . Danny!"

Harry Potter had followed his friends.

"What . . . What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, mate; can't tell you. Give us a hug!"

The two boys hugged.

"Something's come up, Danny," said Colin.

"Serious?" asked Danny.

"No, but interesting. We might divert via Ravenclaw."

"We'll say goodnight," said Danny, "Please, please, please forget you saw me."

Colin added: "Except, can you knock on our door—they won't let you in—and tell them we're visiting Ravenclaw, and we'll be with them shortly?"

"Will do, Colin," said Harry.

Danny Disillusioned himself and Colin.

As they walked to Ravenclaw, Colin relayed Yuri's story, and Danny apologised for being late: he had been to see his mother who was in London; and he had needed food.

They got into Ravenclaw. The common room was empty. Danny unlocked the door of the dormitory and sent Colin in.

A minute later, Colin and Yuri entered the common room.

Yuri looked sleepy. He was carrying a cardboard box.

Danny Visibled and introduced himself.

"You're Colin's brother that lives with Nicolai Chaikovsky?" asked Yuri.

"Yes; Nicolai is well, and happy to be free; and has never forgotten the boy he grew up with, and was never able to tell how much he loved him."

"Is that true?"

"Of course it's true. Colin tells me that he's had to demolish your paranoid suspicions before."

Yuri passed over the box.

It bore an official-looking label:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC

PRIORITY MAIL

URGENT

It bore the signature and seal of Cornelius Fudge.

"So now we know the Russians have a senior Ministry man in their pocket," said Danny.

"Fudge!" said Colin.

"No, not Fudge—he probably signs dozens of these labels in advance."

Danny turned to Yuri: "I want to tell you a little about where Nick and I live."

He described the set-up at Yorosk.

"In short," he concluded "it's a paradise for gay wizard-boys, where they can develop and prosper without upsetting Muggles. You have a choice, Yuri Ilich, of staying in Britain or being resettled in Yorosk."

"I trust you, I think," said Yuri, "And I want to go to Russia, but I would miss my beautiful Colin."

Danny laughed: "And I will miss my beautiful Colin, too. And lots of other boys here. But I will be comforted by my beautiful Russian boys, including Nicolai Porfiryevich,"—He broke into Russian—"whose arsehole sprouts a dozen orange hairs that have never been seen by you."

"Tempter!" laughed Yuri.

"Anyway, you have until seven o'clock tomorrow morning to decide," said Danny in English.

"I've decided. I'll go."

"Excellent. Wear Muggle clothes. You'll be able to take one backpack or suitcase. Your trunk and its contents will probably be sold by the Ministry to pay your fees and support the wizarding community."

"I have nothing of value. Can I kiss my beautiful Colin goodbye?"

"It's not goodbye for long," said Colin, "We're visiting Russia in the hols."

"And you'll see him tomorrow morning," said Danny, "Meet us outside Ravenclaw at five past seven."

However, the two boys did have a long goodbye kiss.

X X X

There was a Christmassy atmosphere in the dormitory, as Danny opened the box and took out the dolls.

Dennis commandeered them at once and set the three dolls standing together.

"It's a shame we didn't keep the other three," he said.

"The six of them together might have blown up the school, Den," said Colin.

"Oh, yeah; there is that."

There was something else in the box: a set of beautifully-painted, wooden Russian plates.

Danny spread them out.

He picked up one, examined it, and said: "Of course!"

"What is it, Danny?" asked Sea Jay.

"See the decorative scroll round the edge? It's actually Russian script, and it reads: put-together-hold-tightly-touch-with-wand-say-portus."

"A Portkey!" said Adrian, "But what good is a Portkey to get out of Hogwarts?"

"If Yuri had obeyed instructions," said Danny, "he would have found himself, presumably, in London, and the Russians who were waiting there would have had an Imprinted Portkey. A simple Reversio! would have taken them into Hogwarts."

"And they'd try to kidnap Harry!" said Colin.

"And whether they succeeded or not, there'd have been people killed and crippled," said Danny.

"I don't like these dolls," said Dennis.

"Well, they're safe now, Den," said Colin, putting an arm around his brother.

"When are they going to look at the chocolate?" asked Jonny.

"Ah . . . Snape," said Danny, "It looks like a clean bill of health."

"I can't believe it!" said Jonny.

"Well, the first thing you should know is that Professor Trelawney is safe and that Snape has been a key person in keeping her safe. Next, the Special P: Snape told Professor Dumbledore about Voldemort's plan and they agreed that Snape would go along with it but produce a dummy potion—not Targeted—completely neutral, in fact. It's actual composition is orange juice and rose-hip syrup—two of the least magical substances known to man."

"Then why didn't he tip people off about Filipe Smith?" asked Jonny.

"He didn't know about Filipe. His duty was to give the finished potion to the Slytherin seniors. It was the Slytherins who bought the chocolates, injected the potion into them, and passed them to Filipe."

"Why Filipe? Was he Imperiused?" asked Jonny.

"They don't think so: his father has long been suspected of death eater sympathies. Typical Slytherin cunning to find the only non-Slytherin with that background, and put him to use."

"What are we going to do about him?" asked Sea Jay.

"I take it you don't fancy continuing your current relationship?"

"The cure was worse than the disease!" said Sea Jay, "And now the disease has gone."

"Then I should tell him that you both feel the heterosexual world is best for him and mention, by the way, that Harry Potter went mad in the dorm and had to be forcibly restrained and force-fed several sorts of Calming Potion—but don't let on you know about the chocolate connection."

"Good idea," said Sea Jay. "That way, Snape keeps his credibility with Voldemort."

"Anything else?" asked Danny.

There was silence.

"Then I declare the meeting closed and Danny's bumhole open!" said Dennis.

"Lads, I'm absolutely knackered. It's four o'clock in the morning Russian time. I couldn't manage even a game of Fission Twister. Maybe a little sucking: get your kit off, and fill my mouth with cream—and you'll have to do the work."

Clothes were off in a trice.

Danny lay, face-down, with head projecting from the end of a bed.

"Hop aboard, Den," he said, and Colin saw Dennis's head snuffling between Danny's bumcheeks.

"You're last, Col," said Danny, "Who's been going short?"

"Me," said Adam, moving to the bed and allowing Danny to take his willy into his mouth.

Colin crouched and applied himself to Adam's bottom. He giggled as he remembered something from a Muggle joke-book that he and Dennis read together sometimes: Got a match? Yeah, your face and my arse. Adam's arse was as pretty as his face; and all the better for its manly filling-out.

He inhaled deeply. Wonderful—a smell that was brother to leaf-mould, and cousin to mushroom soup.

He opened his mouth to set his tongue working, but too late: Adam's bottom was in frantic motion, and, with a shout of DANEEEEEEEE!, Adam was squirting.

Adrian was next up.

Colin got a glimpse of his troll-truncheon before he turned to insert it—or, presumably, a small proportion of it—into Danny's mouth.

Adrian's hole was larger, and hairier than Adam's; the smell was different too—in category, as well as degree: a dark, dirty, swampy smell; Colin felt that this was a man's smell.

Colin had never smelt an eighteen-year-old's bum before, and was intrigued at being presented with such a neat, demonstration of one of the differences between adolescents and men.

Adrian came even more quickly than Adam.

Danny was in some difficulty: Colin could hear bubbly coughs, as he struggled to breathe.

After a few seconds, Danny was able to gasp out: "Bloody hell, Adrian! Virion is keeping you short!"

"It's these blast-never-ended N.E.W.T.'s," panted Adrian, "No matter how much we revise, there's almost more."

He rose to his feet. Penis and mouth were dribbling onto the floor, to join the existing mess.

Colin saw that Dennis was shifting himself, and getting ready to mount Danny. After wiping some goo from Danny's chin, Colin smeared it over Dennis's face. All three brothers giggled.

"That's powerful stuff, Adrian," shouted Dennis, and started to ram himself into Danny.

Sea Jay was next.

"Typical!" said Colin, his face against Sea Jay's bum, "You wait weeks for a Sea Jay arse, and then two come at once!"

He sniffed the hole and felt the cheeks.

Jonny was right: Sea Jay was getting a little flabby, but that had attractions in itself.

As for the hole, Colin knew every wrinkle, every smell, every taste; he knew the feel from fingertip to knuckle, and he was allowed to refresh his memory at length, as Sea Jay took some time to come.

When Jonathan was called for service, Colin looked at his pimply bottom. Colin was like Danny in considering spottiness extremely sexy: "The spots on boys," Danny would say, "always spell out: I am chock-full of male juices and want to empty my balls with you."

Jonny certainly conformed to type.

Colin giggled.

"Hey, Jonny," he said, "Marietta Edgecombe's spots say SNEAK on her face; yours say SLUT on your arse!"

"Pot and kettle!" gasped Jonny, who was getting quite excited.

He was not the only one: Dennis emitted a squeak which always heralded his own orgasms—dry, but intoxicating.

As Jonny came, Colin administered a good squeezing with finger and thumb, causing Jonny to make nearly as much noise as Dennis.

Then it was Colin's turn.

Danny shifted himself up the bed and called: "Seventy!"—indicating that sixty-nines were extra-special with Colin.

The two boys positioned themselves side-to-side and face-to-face and took each other's willies—already very sticky—into their mouths.

Adam complicated the position: he had got his second wind, and, by lifting Danny's leg, found it easy to slip his willy into Danny's rectum.

Colin had expected to be dealing with that part of Danny himself, but reached round and slipped his thumb inside Adam.

He was rewarded with a gush of Danny-cum in his mouth.

Reducing his suction, and wiggling his thumb in Adam's hole, he felt a surge of love and lust, and pumped hard into Danny, who had one hand dealing with Colin's bum and the other with his balls.

He found one last dribble of cum for Danny, and lay motionless, except for a gentle rocking, as Adam dreamily, slowly, and savouring every moment, rogered Danny.

Even Adam stopped rocking, after half a dozen urgent jerks; he hadn't shouted once during his orgasm—perhaps he felt that this rare copulation with Danny should be centred on the loins, and be undisturbed by intrusions from the other senses.

Colin felt a complete sense of contentment, and probably the other two boys felt the same, as they lay as still as Colin.

The spell was broken by giggles from Dennis.

Colin unknotted himself and raised his head.

Dennis and Jonny, bowled over, no doubt, by Adrian's monster, each had a hand on it and were wanking Adrian off.

This required co-ordination between the two wankers, which would have been easily achieved, were not Dennis trying to wank Jonny off with his other hand.

Colin added to Dennis's problems by lying on the floor and finding his brother's bumhole with his tongue.

Eventually they all muddled through and were rewarded from a single pearl from Jonny and a small squirt from Adrian.

They were all tired, and settled into bed.

"Have you two slept together before?" Danny called to Adrian and Adam

"Not slept," said Adam, "But we've had some pretty hot times at the Gay Counsellor's special evenings."

"Does hot times include coping with Adrian's monster where it counts?"

"You must be joking!" said Adam, "I couldn't spare the ten hours' hard work it would take getting my hole ready."

Adrian chuckled: "Danny coped."

"We always knew when he'd coped," called Sea Jay, "He was limping for a week afterwards."

Jonny called: "Hey Danny, you'll never guess what Snape's password is."

"Is it still Ten Points to Gryffindor? That's rather flattering."

"How flattering?"

"I put it on myself, with a pretty neat clamp. Snape's capable of changing it, though. He probably hasn't, because he recognises a classy bit of magic."

"Or because it gives him his only chance to say something that he can't say otherwise," said Adrian.

"What sort of Special P have you been on?" said Jonny, "Snape hates Gryffindor."

"Hey, Colin," said Sea Jay, "Tell Danny about your Alexander."

Colin started telling Danny, but they were both asleep long before the end.

— CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — From Hogwarts to Moscow

Danny's wizard alarm woke him at seven o'clock.

He was a teenage boy, and teenage boys have a desperate urge for a few more minutes in bed in the morning.

Moreover, he was extra-tired this morning, but his body-clock told him it was eleven o'clock, which mitigated things a little.

He extricated himself from his brothers, and gently pulled Colin free, trying not to waken Dennis.

They dressed quickly, and in silence.

Danny went round the dorm, kissing each of his friends.

Only Adrian was awake: "Come back soon, darling Danny," he whispered.

He Disillusioned himself and walked beside Colin to Ravenclaw, carrying the box from the Ministry.

The school was deserted. Odd to think that, in an hour, these quiet vaults would be echoing to the shouting and stamping of hundreds of children.

Colin was almost sleep-walking.

"Danny, why are we up at this unwitching hour?" he asked.

"I want to catch two people before they go to work. One of them's Professor McGonagall."

"What for?"

"To explain Yuri's absence—and also to test my Disillusionment on her. She was one of the few people who could see through it. I've been practising a lot since then, though."

They found Yuri waiting outside Ravenclaw.

Danny Visibled Colin.

"Is your brother Danny here?"

"Yes, Yuri."

"That's a pretty good charm!" said Yuri.

He had a backpack, so he must have had some items worth saving.

They reached Professor McGonagall's room.

Danny took Yuri into his Disillusionment, and Colin knocked on the door.

It took some time for Professor McGonagall to respond, and, when she appeared, dressed in a tartan dressing gown, and sporting a hair-net, she was clearly astonished, but potential irritation was tempered with concern.

"Creevey! What brings you here? Is something wrong?"

"We wanted to catch you before you started work, Miss."

"Well come in, Creevey, and tell me all about . . . We? . . . Is there someone with you?"

She peered behind Colin.

"Yes, Miss," said Colin.

Professor McGonagall stared hard and focused her mind.

"Albus? . . ." she said.

Danny removed the charm.

"Jorrocks! And Prokofiev! Was that your charm, Jorrocks?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Excellent improvement, Jorrocks. Ten points . . . oh, silly me! But what brings you to Hogwarts? Do you think it's wise?"

"Did people not tell you I was coming, Miss?"

"No; communications have not been of the best recently."

"Well it turned out that my visit wasn't necessary: a plot by a Russian Wizard to kidnap Harry Potter was blocked because his agent, Prokofiev here, refused to go along with it—and got help from Colin; and Voldemort's Special P plot was blocked by Snape."

"I'd be grateful if you'd give me a quick summary."

Danny obliged.

"The cleverness of these people is almost depressing," said Professor McGonagall.

"But they can't understand the power of love—or even just being nice to each other; they ignore everything to do with Muggles; they're doomed to failure, Miss."

"But many people may die before that failure."

"Let's hope not, Miss. Now, I'm leaving you with a more immediate problem: Prokofiev want to join me and his friend at our school in Russia."

"Your school, Danny?"

"Yes, Dad's allowing us to use his mountain house. We've got seven pupils—eight now—and a very good Headmaster: Dr de Castro.

"Good Heavens! The Dr de Castro?"

"Yes Miss. It would help matters if you could concoct a story about Russian wizards kidnapping Prokofiev."

"Yes, Professor Flitwick and I can put our heads together and come up with something. Are you sure you want to go now, Prokofiev."

"Yes, Miss."

"You wouldn't prefer to wait until after the O.W.L.'s? We all have the highest hopes for you."

Yuri smiled: "If I wait until then, Miss, I probably will be kidnapped by Russian wizards."

Professor McGonagall looked worried: "Then you'd better take him at once, Jorrocks."

"Yes, Miss."

Danny Disillusioned himself and Yuri.

"Wonderful Charm, Jorrocks," said Professor McGonagall, "And Creevey, you acted correctly in bringing him to me. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Danny took Colin into Disillusionment, so that they could say their goodbyes.

"See yer, Col," said Danny, hugging his brother.

"Seven weeks," said Colin.

"See yer, Colin," said, Yuri as they hugged, "And thanks."

"See yer, Yuri; see yer, Danny."

X X X

"Your pack looks heavy," said Danny, as they walked along the drive, "What you got in it?"

"Books, including my English Grammar."

"Ouch!"

Danny relieved Yuri, but had to revert when they had passed the gates.

"Sorry, mate, I've never tried a Weight Reduction Charm through an Apparition. Have you Apparated before?"

"No."

"You might feel a moment of panic, but it'll all be okay. Now hold me tightly."

He took them to Edinburgh, and called Kingsley from a phone box.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, uncle; I've finished that Roald Dahl you gave me."

"And I'm wearing the cuff-links you gave me."

"Shall we feed the ducks?"

"Sounds fine; but just tell me how things are at home."

"As good as they could be. Can you give me thirty minutes for breakfast and dropping my friend off?"

"I'll be there at eight thirty. See yer."

"See yer."

Danny and Yuri went for breakfast at the caff.

As they were leaving, Danny realised he'd committed a minor breach of the Statute of Secrecy: the box with the label MINISTRY OF MAGIC had been visible to the Muggles.

"Constant vigilance, Jorrocks," he said to himself.

They Apparated through Durham and Lincoln, arriving at Jorrocks Headquarters in good time.

Mrs Jorrocks was notified, and, after hugging Danny and being introduced to Yuri, she was given a one-sentence account of the Matryoshka affair.

Conversation then passed, via combs and barbers, to the doings of Mr Jorrocks, who seemed well on the way to becoming Emperor of South America. Danny asked for Gully to be summoned to the Moscow office.

At half past eight, Danny Apparated, by himself, to St James's Park.

"Hello, uncle; I'm wearing the socks you gave me."

"And I've got the ruddy tie-pin. You don't think we're going over the top with our security?"

At the National Gallery, Danny had insisted on a second pair of codewords, in case Kingsley's telephone was being monitored.

Now, he reminded Kingsley: "Constant vigilance! You can't die of being too careful."

He briefed Kingsley at greater length than he had briefed his mother, giving him the full unnatural history of the Voldemort and Kryuchkov schemes.

"So all's well that ends well," said Kingsley, "Harry Potter is safe at Hogwarts; Kryuchkov is locked away; your Russian boys are protected in the Urals. No loose ends."

"You forget the Russian hoods," said Danny.

"Who will surely go back to Russia. They're not going to hang around London, twiddling their thumbs."

"No, they're still pursuing the Matryoshka scheme, but, when that shows no sign of bearing fruit, and their wages dry up, you're right, Kingsley: they're not going to hang around London twiddling their thumbs. They're masterless men, and sooner or later they'll sign up for a new master, who will pay them good money."

"Voldemort!"

"Yes, of course"

"They've got to be neutralised, then; but I don't see how. There's no question of killing them, and we haven't got the people or facilities to capture and imprison them. And the Ministry are useless—especially as we know they've got at least one agent embedded there."

"You forget the wonderful weapon that you have in your hands."

"The Portkey!"

"Yes, a Portkey imprinted to take you to the gang's HQ. A few good wizards could make the journey, sort out the Russians who are currently there, and zap the rest as they turn up."

"There's still the question of what we do with a roomful of Russian crooks."

"Put them where Professor Dumbledore put the Muggle Russians; where my friend Nicolai went to escape; where I put Kryuchkov."

"A Muggle prison!"

"Yes. Let the Muggle police find them in a room full of illegal drugs. They can be Confunded to confess. The Muggles will lock them up for years, and deport them when their sentences end."

Kingsley thought for a bit, and then said: "I don't like the idea of sending people to fight an unknown number of wizards while suffering Post-Portkey Disorder. I think it would be better to allow them to come to us."

"How?"

"By sending who they expect to see: Prokofiev."

"Definitely not!" said Danny.

"Not the real one; a Polyjuiced one."

"How would it work?"

"They would pump the supposed Prokofiev for Hogwarts layout and practices. Then they'd plan a full-scale assault. We can arrange for them to land in a massive Stunning Field. The Prokofiev would be charged with defensive and aggressive magic, so he would deal with the residuals and take a Portkey he'd brought with him back."

"Just the ticket! It's a shame Voldemort will never know how close he was to gaining another ten or twenty death eaters."

Kingsley smiled: "Fourteen actually. We got the intelligence from one of the Knockturn rent boys, via the Weasley twins. You pick your friends well, Danny, even if you find them in the strangest places."

Danny Apparated to procure a lock of Yuri's hair.

Then it was a return to St James's Park, and good luck to Kingsley; Jorrocks' London HQ and goodbye to his mother; then the Portkey journey to Moscow, and nearer to Brian.

X X X

Gully was already in Magic Side Meeting Room Number One.

"Hello, Gully," said Danny, "Been Confunding any Muggle women recently?"

"I was never charged, let alone tried, though the bastards gave me a box of nodders to go home with."

"To save their embarrassment, as they really arrested you for breaking in to Podolsk and leaving bits of magic all over the place—which was clumsy. And then, when all hell set off there, you were in custody—an alibi and a half!"

"Talking about clumsy: straight in, straight out, it was meant to be."

"I could hardly expect to find Kryuchkov there."

"Yeah, you bagged him up like Solokha bagged up the devil! I laughed my guts out. What was he doing there, if you didn't lure him?"

"Later. This is Yuri, who used to go to a school for Dark Arts that Kryuchkov runs underneath the Muggle Butyrka Prison."

Gully whistled: "So that's where it is. We'll have to take it out sometime."

"Like now!"

"Wait a minute, Master Daniel! I'm game for a lot, but I didn't like that word underneath. What's the layout?"

"Yuri?" asked Danny.

Yuri described a magical entrance through a brick wall, a single long tunnel, a single winding staircase.

"Master Daniel, you know as well as I do that a place like that is unassailable. We could siege them out with a set of nested Anti-Disapparition Jinxes, but that might take weeks," said Gully.

"The boys would suffer. We can't have that. Is there any other entrance, Yuri?"

"There's a tunnel from the school to an old gardener's hut in the park. Five thousand paces."

"Sounds equally forlorn—wait a minute! The park!—we can surely make a start there."

"You're in a hurry, Master Daniel," said Gully.

"Gully, there's gay boys there. Even if we save one of them an extra day in that place, we've got to do it."

"Okay, Master Daniel. Now Yuri, what's the layout?" said Gully.

"Wait a mo, Gully: we don't know if anyone's going to be there," said Danny.

"Tuesday Afternoon: Physical Training and Agility; Set B—about twenty boys," said Yuri.

"Perfect!" said Danny.

— CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — The Butyrka Skirmish

It was three o'clock, Moscow time, when they were ready to set off for their adventure.

Yuri had been loaned a wand, and had practised a few Stupefy!'s, at which he was quite proficient.

Gully had professed himself happy to take the two boys on his Apparition—he described it as easy as pissing into a ravine.

An apparatchik appeared and spoke to Danny: "Master Jorrocks, Professor Wolland is here. He hoped to say goodbye to your parents."

"Show him in, please, Bladzad," said Danny.

The Professor appeared, accompanied by the cat Behomoth.

"Daniel!" he said, "In the absence of your parents, I am pleased to be able to offer my au revoirs to their beloved son."

They shook hands, and Danny tickled Behomoth's ear.

"I see Danny has got a new boyfriend," said the cat, "As pretty and intelligent as the last one."

I'm not his boyfriend," said Yuri, blushing.

"Meow, quite right too! You have a low soul, not worthy of the boy who was nearly invisible to Messire."

"And Gully, my old friend!" continued the Professor, "It's been many months."

"Professor," said Gully, "What brings you back to the city which made you famous?"

"I came—needlessly, as it happened—to warn Stephen about the activities of Kryuchkov. Then we had a tour to the East. I collected some space-rocks and Behomoth some ermine—in his form as Prince of Under-Arabia, he likes to dress smartly."

"I've never liked these damned things from the sky," snorted Gully."

"Don't blame me," said the Professor, "I buy what is already there."

"The Peoples only summon them to Earth because they know you'll buy; it's not a victimless crime."

"A man who copulates with his own great-granddaughter," said Behomoth, "is not one to talk of market forces."

"Ah," said Gully, "I did wonder; but there is nothing tighter than a thirteen-year-old slit."

"True," said Behomoth, "But Marble-tightening Charms can be used. Meow."

Danny interrupted a conversation which had taken an unpleasant turn: "Professor, we will have to be leaving you. We have a job to do."

Professor Wolland smiled: "And what job is there to divert one who sits at the feet of Dr de Castro?"

Danny explained.

"Meow. This is going to be fun," said Behomoth."

"Prince," said the Professor, "You know I vowed nevermore to disrupt the life of this city, but we can watch; as you say, it will be fun."

They Disillusioned, Danny taking Yuri into his own charm, and Visibled themselves to each other.

"We rendezvous at Dostoyevskaya Station," said Gully.

The five wizards Disapparated.

X X X

Though it had been officially renamed by Russian criminals, everybody still called it Catherine Park.

Since the time of the great empress, there had been a magic zone, invisible to Muggles, at the north end.

The zone was shaped like a skew-whiff trapezium: a southern border lay parallel to a shorter northern border.

There were high cast-iron railings around both the Muggle and wizard sections.

The wizard zone had a dense cactus hedge inside the railings.

"Why have a hedge?" asked Danny.

"The wizard who built the Zone," said Gully, "thought he might as well make it tropical, and there's nothing like a cactus hedge to encourage wild life. Nowadays there's so many Muggle druggies in Moscow that a hedge is useful to avoid them getting the occasional glimpse inside."

Danny wished he'd been able to do Physical Training and Agility in a tropical zone: he'd spent many uncomfortable hours under the eye of Madam Hooch, with his knees knocking together in the cold.

He raised his wand to sense the enchantments applying to the perimeter of the Zone. There were several he didn't recognise.

"Ah, Khochumeret!" said Professor Wolland, "Still one of the strongest; but old-fashioned, and easily eliminated."

"Same plan, then, Master Daniel," said Gully, "Me at the northwest, you at the northeast, and remember where I am if you have to fire towards the north side.

"I'll do the small Destrudo!, but I'll also fire off Finite's at the two butt ends of the hedge to stop seepage—these Protectives are piecewise and pressing against each other, so they'd try and fill the gap.

"Can you do Finite Incantatem!, Yuri?"

"Yes."

"Right!" said Gully, "As soon as you hear my bang, Danny, give it a Destrudo!, ten yards wide, and full-scale like you did at Podolsk."

"Was that you, Daniel?" said the Professor, "I thought it was Kryuchkov. I must say—"

"Say it later!" said Gully, rudely, "As soon as Danny smashes down the fence, you, Yuri, do a Finite to the left and a Finite to the right. They'll go right round the perimeter.

"At the same time, you, Master Daniel, go in blazing. You sure there'll be only two goons, Yuri?"

"Always has been."

"Alright. Master Daniel, you and I will start off each going for the goon on our left. If either of us gets the chance, we knock off the hut to delay reinforcements. Just point to the hut, Yuri."

Yuri pointed to a position midway along the western side.

"Also," said Gully there's a basic Anti-Disapparition Jinx. Whichever of us gets a moment, knocks that out."

"Oh, what fun!" said Behomoth, as they walked to the northeast corner.

Gully continued towards the northwest corner.

Danny muttered Safe! to his Amulet, and took up the classic duelling posture.

Thud!

That was Gully.

Danny raised his wand, and concentrated.

Safe! Destrudo!

The BANG! was deafening, but Danny, charging through the debris could nevertheless hear Yuri doing his stuff, and Behomoth commenting: C'est magnifique, mais c'est la guerre.

He had an image of a man to his left by high jump and long jump set-ups; and a man to his right, preparing to send some boys off on a hundred-yards track.

He sent out an immediate Stunner aimed at the man to his left, but the man effortlessly blocked it and sent out a some curses in Danny's direction: if he could not see Danny, at least he could pick up the direction from which Danny's spells were coming.

Danny blocked the curses, as far as possible: he could not rely solely on his Amulet, as Yuri might be hit.

As Danny, joined now by Yuri, fired Stupefy!'s at the man, he suddenly noticed that the man was also firing at Gully.

Danny and Gully were both going for the same man, leaving the other man free to attack them unmolested.

Gully had been so glib in his plan, that Danny had forgotten the simple geometry: he and Gully were not opposite each other, so it was a matter of chance whether their rights and lefts were the same or different.

He might have laughed when Gully and he both realised the error and, with slapstick co-ordination, switched their opponents at the same time.

Stay as you are, Gully!" he shouted above the noise, and now they got some control into things, as both men were under attack.

They had been firing high, so as to miss the crouching boys, but now there mission became more difficult: the men forced the crouching boys—Danny heard a Crucio!—to stand up, and crouched down themselves.

Both Gully and Danny, like working sheepdogs, set off forwards at an angle to try and get behind the men, but there were enough boys to cover all sides.

"Looks like a stalemate!" shouted Gully.

"Not necessarily," said Professor Wolland's voice.

A black cat raced across the grass, slithered through the forest of boys' legs, and jumped onto the farther man's face.

"Bastard! Get it off! Get it off!" he screamed, and dropped his wand.

As the nearer man turned in alarm, Danny raced towards him, and got in a Stupefy! at point-blank range.

Accio Wands! he yelled, and both wands flew into his left hand.

It had been worthwhile practising these multiple Accio!'s.

He Visibled Yuri, and called: "Do your stuff, mate!"

Yuri called: "To me, lads!"

He stood, with the boys lined up in front of him, and addressed them:

"Hello friends. You all know me. I ran away because I wanted to have friends. Boyfriends. I ran away because I'm gay, and you can't be gay in Butyrka.

"All of you are free to stay in Butyrka if you want; free to go out into Moscow if you want; but any gay boys are free to join me if they want.

"Ask if they want to suck your cock," said Danny.

"Anyone who wants to suck my cock, come over here."

There was silence.

Nobody moved—there wasn't even any of the foot-shuffling that occurs the world over when people are embarrassed.

Then one boy, from the right, made a break, running as though he feared his companions would stop him, and standing behind Yuri, as though he wanted protection.

A second boy, from the left, strolled, apparently nonchalantly, to join Yuri. There was a certain stiffness in his walk that suggested to Danny that he was having a desperate struggle not to show fear.

There was another moment of stillness.

Then five boys walked quickly to join the party.

"Last chance!" shouted Yuri.

After a beat, Danny shouted: "Gully, take 'em two at a time!"

Gully seized hold of the nearest two boys and Disapparated, while Danny Concealed Yuri.

"Behomoth and I will take two each," said the Professor.

"I insist that these two are the most engaging!" said the cat.

They Disapparated, and Danny was left with Yuri and one last boy.

He was preparing to grab the two boys and Disapparate when there was another Bang! and four men burst from the ruins of the hut.

They deployed and remained stationary. All they could see were a dozen or so boys standing in the middle or the playing field.

Danny laughed.

For a fraction of a second, he thought of firing some curses at them, but there was nothing to gain, so he decided to leave quietly.

At this point there came a flurry of curses and shouted orders.

Substantial contingents of the Russian Wizarding Militia had poured in through the two gaps in the hedge and a major firefight started.

"A match made in Heaven," he shouted as he took the two boys and Apparated.

— CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — Fifteen Boys

"Well, here we are then," said Professor Wolland, "Five out, and twelve back, and not a scratch on any of them."

They were back in the meeting room.

"Professor," said Danny, "I congratulate you on your interpretation of watching; and Behomoth, it was you that was magnifique."

"We aim to please," said the cat, "And, talking of aiming, I need to go to the kitten's room."

He transformed into the handsome prince.

"Oh yeah," said Danny, "Would you please show my kittens the way? Any of you lads need a change of clothes?"

Danny was remembering Piers' accident when he came up against authority.

The seven new boys all went for a pee—not out of necessity, Danny guessed, but because, understandably, they wanted to stay together.

"We're running late," said the Professor, "But please give me a summary of your Podolsk escapades."

Danny started, but was interrupted by Behomoth and the boys returning.

"You are going to be in Heaven, Danny," he said.

"I am already in Heaven," said Danny, "It's these lads who are going to be in Heaven—or at least, in less of a Hell than they have been."

"Nothing wrong with a bit of Hell, is there Messire?" said Behomoth.

"Ssh!" said the Professor, "We don't talk about these things to our friends. Pray continue, Daniel."

"Before he does," said Gully, "Is there any person in this room who does not want tea and pastries?"

You could have heard a midge fart."

Gully went on his errand of compassion, and Danny continued his story.

The new boys and Yuri stared at him in wonder.

Danny tried not to be too aware of the fourteen beautiful knees arrayed before him. He was glad to be seated: his own knees had turned to rubber.

He had just about finished, when Gully and two apparatchiks returned with the provender.

He went for a pee.

When he returned to the room, he was overwhelmed by the smell of seven boys who had recently had an hour's exercise.

He looked at the boys properly for the first time. There was a little scrap who looked about nine years old. The eldest was a Hufflepuffy sort of boy who looked about sixteen.

They were all on the skinny side, but the Butyrka had obviously kept them on something more than starvation rations, and, of equal importance, away from the dope, so they looked healthy.

"So Master Kryuchkov is enjoying a holiday again," said the Professor, "That was an excellent evening's work, Daniel; and an excellent afternoon's work today."

"Half excellent," said Danny, "These lads are from Set B. Presumably there will be gay boys in Set A who will be sent to institutions or the streets, so we'll have to trace them."

"Not you, Master Daniel," said Gully, "You'll have enough to do at Yorosk. Leave it to me. I'll organise a boyhunt. I know the words, though I'll be sure to tell them that it's not mine, but a sixteen-year-old whose cock is being offered."

"Well done that man," said Professor Wolland, "Now we really have to be going."

Behomoth became a cat, and he and the Professor shook hands, or paws, all round.

Then they Disapparated.

"Gully, there's one more favour . . ." said Danny.

"I know, I know," said Gully, "The Portkey!"

Gully left the room and came back with two buckets.

He put one on the floor saying: "Portkey."

He indicated the other: "For accidents; though I made sure they didn't put up any rich pastries."

"Now, boys: gather round. When I tell you, grab the edge of the bucket."

The nine people vanished, and Danny felt what it must be like to be lonely.

Then Gully returned.

"All present and correct."

As they shook hands, Danny said: "Gully, it might be worthwhile to record the results of doing a Prior Incantato! on those two wands.

"Good idea. Goodbye, Master Daniel."

"See yer, Gully."

Danny invoked Portus! and grabbed the rim of the bucket.

X X X

In the Entrance Hall at Yorosk, two boys were crouching over a bucket.

One had already been sick and the other wasn't sure.

The smell of vomit was enough to turn Danny's stomach, and he said goodbye to the tea and the one biscuit he had allowed himself.

The three of them were better soon enough, and Danny said: "Wait here," before going into the staff area.

He found the three Shelepinas in the kitchen, having their own tea.

"Hello ladies," he said.

Resisting the overwhelming offers of snacks, changes of clothes, and travel pills, he told them: "Eight extra for dinner, madams."

"Ooh, that's fun!" said Madam Shelepina-Kitchen.

"And they're staying the night.

"The beds are made and aired," said Madam Shelepina-Matron.

"In fact, they're staying for quite a few nights."

"Will they be playing Quidditch?" asked Madam Shelepina-Healthcare.

"Yes, lots of Quidditch. Now I must go and show them round."

He collected the boys, and told them: "I'm taking you to the common room, where we spend our time when we're not at lessons."

As they walked, he pointed out landmarks: "Main Dining room . . . bogs . . . bedrooms . . . and this is the common room."

Brian was in the corner, teaching English to their sons.

He got up quickly, and hugged Danny.

He showed no surprise at the arrival of eight strange boys, seven of them in PE kit.

"Don't kiss me," said Danny, "I've just been sick."

In response, Brian stuck in his tongue as far as he could, breaking off after ten seconds with the comment: "No chunky bits."

Then Boris and Pavel had to be kissed by their other Papa.

The newcomers goggled at all this.

Then Brian was looking for a reprise, but Danny said: "Please get on with the lesson quietly, and I'll start to tell our new boys about Yorosk."

He made them squeeze up onto the corner sofas, and sat on a chair facing them:

"My name's Danny; that's my boyfriend Brian; he's teaching our adopted sons, Boris and Pavel, English.

"There are three more boys who you haven't seen yet: Nicolai, who you may know, as he was at Butyrka until he ran away; and Alexei and Pyotr, who are brothers, but not twins like these two.

"We came here using a Portkey. We are at Yorosk, eight hundred miles to the east of Moscow. We are a school of wizardry—but not the sort of school you're used to.

"At Butyrka, you were prisoners of some bad people, who treated you badly and trained you to do bad things.

"You made a free choice to come with Yuri—who, incidentally, has never been to Yorosk before—and you are free to leave Yorosk at any time.

"We are all gay wizards here. The only rule is that we treat each other as fellow human beings. We show tolerance, respect, friendship and love for each other. There are no rivalries. Everything we do is non-competitive. We must be happy; and we must want everyone else to be happy."

There were sounds from the corridor, and the three remaining boys came in.

Danny got up and hugged Pyotr.

"This is Pyotr," then "This is Alexei," then "This is Nicolai, once at Butyrka."

The three new arrivals had done a generic goggle at the eight boys tucked in the corner, but, when one of the eight made a choking sound, they focused at him.

"Ugh . . . Yuri!" said Nick.

Danny saw Dr de Castro passing and called him.

"Boys, this is Professor de Castro, our Headmaster."

He entered the room, and saw the new boys.

"Daniel, are these new students?"

"Yes, Professor. I'm afraid I've piled Pelion on Ossa."

"A more-than-welcome Pelion on a more-than-willing Ossa! Hello, boys."

There were shy murmurs in return.

"I'd like to us to get to know each other, Professor. Is it sensible for you to address us in our own dining room after supper?"

"Yes, I will bring Professor Gogol, and look forward to talking with all . . . fifteen of you. And I will draft a new advertisement for teachers!"

The Professor left, and Danny said: "Fifteen boys together is clumsy. What we'll do is: our four most senior boys will each show two of the new boys around and tell you all about Yorosk.

"I hope you will honour me with an embrace. And I hope you will honour your escort with an embrace."

He took the hand of the tiniest boy, and drew him to his feet.

"Who are you?"

"Semyon."

He hugged the boy, who returned the hug fiercely, breaking the ice and setting an example to the others.

"Who are you?"

"Veniamin."

He hugged Veniamin and said: "Brian will look after Semyon and Veniamin."

The two boys hugged Brian willingly, and went off with him.

Alexei took Konstantin and Ivan; Pyotr took Yefim and Sergei; Nicolai took Ilya and Yuri.

The reunion between Nicolai and Yuri was emotional.

Danny had positioned his nose as near to an armpit as possible during each of the eight embraces. He thought he could now recognize half the boys by their odour.

"And Daniel will look after Boris and Pavel!" he said.

He hugged them, and they squatted, still hugging, in a triangle on the floor.

"English!" he said "Repeat after me."

"My name is Daniel."

"I have two sons called Boris and Pavel."

"I love Boris."

"I love Pavel."

"I am very happy."

THE END