Gay Harry Potter-06-2e-Euan Abercrombie

by jerome1980

Complete story. Euan Abercrombie has a difficult childhood, but things improve when he goes to live with his sister. Things go even better at Hogwarts. Although a straight boy, he joins Danny Jorrocks' Juniors in Gay Support group. Things get better and better, despite the occasional complication. The story concludes a month into Euan's second year.

GAY HARRY POTTER-06-2e-TALES FROM THE NINE O'CLOCK CLUB EUAN ABERCROMBIE

1

Euan was actually christened Euan Benjamin Lundberg, the son of Carl Philipp Emanuel Lundberg and Lucrezia Lundberg (Née Smith).

He could not remember his father, who had died when he was only two years old, leaving the family in poverty and disgrace.

It was only in later years that he came to know the details of the catastrophe.

After his death, naughty Carl was revealed as, not only a boozer and wastrel (which everybody knew), but also a compulsive gambler and womaniser; and a financial fraud.

However, like all responsible married couples, the Lundbergs had insured their lives, so that, if the worst came to the worst, bereavement would not lead to the additional burden of financial hardship. Sadly, it turned out that Carl had not kept up with the payments.

Lucrezia applied to Jorrocks and Company (who by this time had a complete monopoly of Wizard Insurance) for a pro rata pay-out, based on Carl's limited contributions.

The Company replied with a Piss off! couched in decorously legal language.

Lucrezia then threatened the company with an action through the Wizengamot (Probate, Divorce and Admiralty Division).

Surprisingly, Jorrocks and Company caved in completely: they offered full payment—but subject to Mrs Lundberg submitting to a Memory Probe.

Things went quiet after that . . . and remained quiet. No-one was really surprised: Carl Lundberg's death had indeed been suspicious: he was supposed to have smothered himself with his pillow—no mean feat for one who had achieved the degree of ratarsedness that his corpse had shown at the Magical Post Mortem.

Broke, and persona non grata to all decent wizards and witches, Lucrezia sought a radical solution, and found it in the form of the Ministry's MASS—the Muggle Area Settlement System, designed to alleviate the housing shortage by buying groups of Muggle properties, creating a Zone, and settling in deserving cases.

MASS was such a jumble of ill-judgement, inefficiency and corruption that it might have been better to adopt the simpler policy of building magical homes from scratch.

This hardly bothered Lucrezia: when she wanted something, she went for it full-tilt. Charming a meek clerk in the Housing Office of the Ministry, she was allocated a desirable maisonette, one of a block of four for which the Ministry had paid over the odds—incidentally, and unforeseeably, enhancing the commission earned by Jorrocks and Company.

Lucrezia's daughter, Iona, had detested her father. She also feared and hated her mother, and refused to remain with Lucrezia and Euan. Although only fourteen, she moved in with her boyfriend's family, and subsequently married him on her seventeenth birthday.

But it was still three people that migrated to the maisonette: Lucrezia, Euan, and George Abercrombie, the meek clerk whom Lucrezia had married—six months after Carl's death, and two months after Jorrocks and Company had made her an offer she couldn't accept.

So it was that Euan Abercrombie's earliest memories were of the flat in Cake Close, in the historic market town of Banbury, situated in the ancient county of Oxon.

2

Mr and Mrs Abercrombie were lucky with their neighbours. The walls, floors and ceilings were thin, but the residents of all four of the flats kept the noise down. Nuisance by odour was also absent: all of the wizards and witches were either too lazy, or too incompetent for significant potion-brewing.

Through the dividing wall, lived an old maid of a witch—Miss Sharp: not ugly or deformed enough to be a true hag, but no picture-postcard, as Mr McCormac, put it.

On the diagonal, were the Thompsons—a retired couple whose visits from their yobbish children and revolting grandchildren were gratifyingly rare.

But it was the flat below that gave the place life: the Abercrombies and McCormacs got on well, and the four of them threw themselves into the Muggle world: pubs, pub games, eateries, cinema, dance-clubs, golf. None of them dared to try the dangerous art of motoring, but they all became proficient users of buses, taxies and trains.

The Abercrombies worked at the Ministry and the McCormacs at local factories—he at a Charm workshop; and she at a studio creating arty-farty magical lamps.

They enjoyed each other's company, but the special bonus for the Abercrombies was that the McCormacs came with a built in baby-sitter: they had a single child, Luke, who was eleven when the Abercrombies moved in. Euan was two—just old enough for his toilet and feeding requirements to be within the capabilities of an eleven-year-old.

It wasn't until he was five, however, that Euan got to know Luke and make friends with him.

The first time that Euan was still awake after his parents had left, he got out of bed and went into the sitting-room, where Luke was watching the Muggle Moron Machine. Luke chased him back to bed a few times, but eventually relented, allowing him half an hour of sitting up.

After that, whenever the foursome went out—every Saturday night, and one or two times through the week—Euan stayed awake and ran in to join Luke as soon as it was safe.

They enjoyed playing together with Euan's toys, or playing board games like the Muggle Monopoly or the wizard Merlin's Treasures.

But they soon discovered that evenings were best begun with a romp—either Hide and Seek, or Angry Dragon.

In the former, one of the boys went to the foot of the stairs and waited for the other to hide; then, in total darkness and silence, the search began, ending up with the inevitable, jubilant discovery.

Angry Dragon was played with the lights on. One boy was the dragon, and chased the other round the flat on all fours, while making roaring and flame-breathing noises.

In each of the games, the pursuer or aggressor ended up tickling the victim, who would squirm and curl up, while laughing uncontrollably in ticklish delight.

Once Euan got so excited that he piddled in his pyjamas, reducing both boys to further fits of laughter.

Things always quietened down, though; and the boys would sit, snuggled together on the sofa, sometimes with Luke's arm around Euan. They talked, or read, or watched TV until the impending return of his parents made it time for Euan to bed down. Sometimes, Euan fell asleep on the sofa, and Luke carried him to bed.

It was in the early days of the romps that the boys changed their educational processes: Luke had attended hag school, and now Flooed every day to a Ministry of Magic Training Centre; Euan, surprisingly, was sent to a Muggle infant school. At the time, he assumed that this was merely for convenience, the school being only fifty yards away; in later years, he wondered if Lucrezia had assumed that a school open to the public was a Public School; and it was known that only wealthy Muggles sent their children to public schools. Lucrezia was always drawn to money. She must have been surprised at how lightly the parents from Sestick Castle Infant School wore their worldly possessions.

Strangely enough, and despite living most of his life among Muggles, it was at the MOMTC that Luke learned about skateboards.

In his second year, the textbook had a list of Muggle Artefacts of Suspected Religious Significance which included:

Shuttlecock—for induction of Ritual Ecstasy

Skateboard—used for Ritual Dances

Skidoo—votive underwear

Luke had seen a sign pointing to the Skateboard Park half a mile from Cake Close. Out of curiosity, he and Euan went to have a look. The name was grander than the actuality: the park consisted of a collection of decrepit ramps and runways.

However, there were a few lads cavorting (Skateboarding seemed a predominantly male pursuit) and a few girls watching lacklustrely. Luke fell in love with the art at once, and bought his own board at the first opportunity.

Thereafter, Luke was often at the park learning the tricks, and slowly mastering several. Because even theoretically easy tricks are beyond the competencies of the vast majority of skateboarders, Luke soon became respected; and because he was a kind, polite boy, he became liked.

His little friend was popular too. Because of his prominent ears, Keith Scott, Luke's new best friend, gave Euan the nickname Elfin.

"How do Muggles know that elves have long ears?" he asked Luke, as they were walking home one day.

"They don't," was the reply, "They can't even see them; but maybe Muggles could see them in the old days, and the memory passed down."

"Maybe it's only skaters who can remember."

"Maybe."

"They're all nice people, aren't they—Keith Scott, Nick Beedie, Lewis Daynes, Rikki Paterson, Mark Smith, Ben O'Neill—"

"I told you before, Elfin, stay well clear of Ben."

"He's always smiling at me."

"Everyone smiles at you; but you've still got to be careful."

"Is that why we always have to go into the hedge together when I want a piddle?"

"Yes."

"I thought it was so I could look at your winkle."

"Why should a seven-year-old want to look at winkles?"

"Not any winkle: your winkle."

"There's nothing special about my winkle."

"There is: it's like a mushroom! When you open it up to piddle, there's a great big purple top and a little white stalk."

"How many purple mushrooms have you seen?" chuckled Luke.

"None; which makes your winkle double special."

"Maybe; just don't go telling anyone that we talked about my winkle."

"Why? You're my friend, and I like your winkle."

"People don't think it's right. Wizards are bad, but Muggles are terrible. Anyone who talks to little boys about winkles is sent to prison."

"Then it's a secret and I promise to keep my mouth shut for ever and ever."

"Amen," said Luke, and the two friends giggled happily.

A few days later, Euan, Luke and Keith Scott were sitting in the park in Town. They were eating dungburgers and fried scabs as a special treat to mark the start of the summer holidays.

"How are things at home?" asked Keith.

Before Luke could answer, Euan said: "I was going to ask that, but I didn't want to talk in front of Keith."

"Talk away," said Luke, "I've told Keith about the rows, and you've obviously heard them."

"Yeah. It's funny your mum and dad never stop shouting at each other, and my mum and dad have stopped speaking altogether. Do you think the place is—" He mouthed the word cursed.

"Nothing like that, Elf. I think it's all to do with sex. I think they're all sick of each other, and having sex with people they shouldn't be."

"You mean they're doing what we talked about in the Skate Park that time? Are they really doing it?"

"Don't look so surprised. I told you I'm here because my mum and dad did that, and everybody in the world was created in the same way."

"It's called shagging," Euan told Keith.

"Is it?" said Keith, with a serious face.

"Yeah. It must be good fun. I'll try it as soon as I get old enough. I'd better get a girlfriend soon."

"Don't rush to have sex," said Luke, "You've still got years to go before your body's ready."

"Oh, yeah: I'll have to wait till I'm your age—HEY! are you two doing it?"

The two big boys' jaws dropped, and they stared at Euan without answering.

Euan scarcely noticed, but continued: "Is that what you do in the park every night? Which girls do you do it to?"

"Er . . ." said Luke and Keith, simultaneously.

There was a moment's silence before Euan said to Luke: "Go on; who's your girlfriend? Tell us."

"I haven't got a girlfriend," said Luke.

"You're sixteen. You must have a girlfriend. Which one is it? I won't tell anyone."

"Honestly, Elf, I don't have a girlfriend; and neither has Keith. Let's do some moves"

Luke and Keith did some skateboarding on the hard bit. Euan was allowed to have a go, but he wasn't much good at it.

Girls were forgotten: they simply weren't as important as boys.

On the last day of the holidays, it was raining. As soon as it had stopped, Euan went downstairs and knocked on the McCormacs'.

"Coming out?" he asked, as Luke opened the door.

"Okay," said Luke, picking up his board.

They walked to the skate park. There was no-one there, but they took it in turns to splash about.

Luke lit up a cigarette. It was like the skateboard: Euan was allowed as many goes as he liked, which in each case, was just a few.

The rain came again, so they ran for shelter inside the wide hedge. The leaves were already dripping, but they found a spot near one of the trunks which was nicely dry.

Luke had an arm around Euan's shoulder, as he often did; and Euan pressed closely. He liked the warm feeling of other boys and girls.

"Training Centre tomorrow," said Luke, "And a new school for you."

"It'll mainly be the same people," said Euan, "Just different teachers."

"There'll be bigger boys too."

"More Muggles. I like you, Luke, and it's good being with you, but sometimes I wish we did our skating with magical boys."

"I know what you mean; but it's nice living underneath you, and seeing you every day."

"It is nice—even when raindrops are dripping on us."

"In a few weeks it'll be snow, and we can go sledging."

"And skateboarding again in the spring."

"There's more than one kind of spring and more than one kind of magic."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a sort of gentle magic standing here with you; and every second is a new spring full of dreams and fancies."

Euan turned towards Luke, hugged him tightly with both arms, and buried his face in his chest.

They stayed like that for a few seconds before Luke turned Euan's head upwards, and kissed him.

Euan had never felt so happy. The putrid atmosphere at home was forgotten. There was also a feeling of pride: he had a real, sixteen-year-old friend.

Again, they stayed frozen for a time. Then Luke licked Euan's lips.

Euan jerked back, with a giggle.

"Sorry," said Luke.

"It's okay, said Euan, "Do it again."

Luke did it again, and Euan giggled again, but without jerking.

Luke's hand was squeezing his bottom now. Things just seemed to be getting better and better.

Luke turned sideways, and they resumed their original position, with Luke's arm around Euan's shoulder. This time, Euan had an arm tightly around Luke's waist, but he let it slip down to feel his bottom. As they watched the rain drizzling onto the field, Euan thought how wonderful it was to be so loving with his most cherished friend.

The rain eased off. Slowly, they walked home from the skater park; Euan even quieter than usual; Luke, with his board under his arm. Along the brook, the hawthorn trees whispered above them, and the sweet birds sang to them, as the whole world seemed to glow with a new kind-heartedness.

They walked slowly, with none of their usual friskiness: no chucking of stones in the brook; no playful barging; no sallies on the skateboard. They walked in silence, darting occasional smiles at each other.

Euan thought about the feel of Luke's hands on his bottom, and the hard, unexpectedly demanding, touch of his mouth. The taste of tobacco was so comforting. He wanted to hold in his heart forever all the exotic enchantment of that moment when he had realised that the one really important thing in all the world was that he and Luke were together; and that, together, they were an invincible team.

"They'll all be going out on Saturday," he said, "Can we do that again?"

"Yes, of course," said Luke, "Anything you want."

Sestick Castle Junior School was all that Euan had hoped for. He got a sense of protection from the opening assembly onwards. The teachers made the classes fun, and there were friendly staff in the playground to suggest games for the children.

It was on the evening after his second day at the new school that he was woken by the McCormacs shouting at each other. It must be a serious argument, as they had never broken his sleep before. He looked at his watch: ten o'clock.

He turned over to let sleep come again, but there was something nagging at his mind and preventing relaxation.

Then it came to him: the voices were coming from Luke's room, which was directly below his own. Tonight's row involved Luke. He'd always said that he'd never take sides. Perhaps he had broken his own rule.

Euan strained, trying to make out the words, without success. There were silences when Luke might have been saying something, but it was all mystifying.

The shouting went on for some time before being combined with bangs and crashes, as though someone were moving the furniture about using incompetent spells.

Then there were new voices and Euan just had time to think Improper Use of Magic Office before falling asleep again.

Next morning, breakfast was as silent as usual: his parents seemed to be enemies of each other, and when Euan talked to one of them, he had the impression that they both thought he was taking sides.

He was no more than mildly curious about the previous night's row, and scarcely thought about it during the school day.

He walked down the hill with three girls from his class and said goodbye as he turned towards his door.

Something was wrong: both his parents were home. Perhaps one of the grandparents was sick—Granny Smith might even have died, as she had been poorly for some time.

"Sit down, Euan," said his mother, "We need to talk to you."

It was a total mystery.

"It's about that McCormac boy," continued his mother.

Suddenly, Euan felt cold all over: they must have found out that Luke had kissed him. It had been totally harmless, but he realised that his parents might find it objectionable.

He felt himself blushing. He couldn't stop it.

"Has that boy ever done anything to you that he shouldn't?" asked his mother.

"Er . . . no," he said. Whatever happened, total denial was the best course. That must have been what last night's row was about. But how had the McCormacs found out? The two boys had been totally alone in the hedge.

"Think about it Euan," said his mother, "Has he ever touched you, or asked you to do rude things?"

"No," he said, a little more firmly, though he was still blushing.

"We're not blaming you, Old Man" said his father, "He's much older than you."

"Shut up, George," said his mother, "Leave this to me. Now Euan, if that boy did anything to you, we need to know."

"Why?" asked Euan. That was a tactical error.

"So he did interfere with you."

"He didn't. We only went skateboarding together and sheltered from the rain in the hedge."

"When was this?"

"Sunday."

"So on Sunday he took you into a hedge. What did you do there?"

"Nothing. We just waited for the rain to stop and came home."

"You must have done something."

"We just talked and watched the rain falling."

"What did you talk about?"

"I don't know; skateboarding and schools."

"And what were his hands doing?"

"I don't know. By his sides I suppose."

"Were they on your body at any point."

"No. They couldn't have been. He was smoking."

"You said his hands were by his sides."

"I just remembered his fags."

"And where were your hands."

"I don't know . . . I had a few puffs."

"Oh Euan," put in his father, "I've told you smoking's bad for you. Twenty-seven per cent of all deaths—"

"Shut up, George," said Mrs Abercrombie, "Now we're getting somewhere. It's clear what was going on, Euan. That boy bribed you with cigarettes so you'd do things for him."

"No!" said Euan, getting cross for the first time, "There was no bribe, and I don't know what you mean by doing things."

"Did he put his hand between your legs? Did he touch you there? Did he make you touch him?"

"No! This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Ask Luke and he'll tell you it's stupid too!"

"We can't ask the brat; and we wouldn't want to; and we wouldn't believe anything he told us."

"Where is he?"

"He's been sent away."

"I don't understand. He's done nothing wrong. He never, ever—"

Mrs Abercrombie snorted with contempt. "Nothing wrong?," she shouted, "The McCormacs came home early last night, and found their son with a Muggle boy."

"What's wrong with that? We go skateboarding with Muggles all the time."

"They weren't skateboarding last night."

"Of course they weren't. It was probably Keith. They're friends, as well as skateboarding together."

Mrs Abercrombie snorted again. "Friends!" she screamed, "They were behaving like animals."

"I don't understand."

"Euan, they were using their private parts—front and back private parts—on each other."

"What? Why would they do that? It's silly."

"Euan, for the last time. The McCormac boy has shown himself to be a vile pervert. Knowing that, can you think again? Did he ever—when he was minding you in this flat, or with you at the skateboard place—did he ever do anything to you; or try to do anything; or suggest that you join in his filthy practices?"

Euan was screaming now: "Luke's not vile! He's my friend and he never did anything filthy and you're horrid for saying he did."

He started crying.

Mrs Abercrombie softened, and told him: "Calm down. In time you'll understand what sort of so-called friend you had, and you'll be thankful that he didn't try his evil tricks with you."

The atmosphere in the flat was extra-strained that evening. After a tense tea, Euan retired to his bedroom. He had another little weep before going to sleep, but cheered up at the thought that it would all blow over, and he would be kissed again by Luke on Saturday. He thought about front and back private parts. It would be fun to hold Luke's mushroom in his hand.

But things went from bad to worse: Luke seemed to have vanished forever; and Mrs Abercrombie fell out in a big way with Mrs McCormac. He heard them quarelling in the back garden.

"All these years, your son has been messing with my Euan," shouted Mrs Abercrombie.

"That's slander and you can't prove it," was the retort, "And, anyway, if he had done anything, he was led on."

"Led on? My son's ten years younger!"

"Not too young to make sheep's eyes at the boys; and not too young to wiggle his arse about like a gypsy dancer."

"Don't talk rubbish! My son is a normal well-brought-up young man, and the last thing he'd do would be to make up to an abomination like your ill-bred brat."

"Ill-bred is it? Wherever poor Mr Lundberg is now, I bet he regrets the day he set eyes on you. He'll be turning in his grave—which he has been doing anyway since the day of his weird death."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't mean nothing; and there's only one person in the world knows about the something."

It was going to be a bad autumn, thought Euan.

3

He had always been a quiet child, and the McCormac affair made Euan even quieter, as well as giving him a nervousness of unknown people or places.

On the positive side, it made him so visibly dependent on his friends that everyone wanted to be his friend. The girls in particular vied with each other to be the one holding his hand in the crocodiles; to sit next to him in lessons; to stand or play with him during breaks.

And the boys accepted him too: they liked a casual arm around the shoulder, if it wasn't too demonstrative. For a few weeks he had wondered whether he really made sheep's eyes and wiggled his arse about, but was soon satisfied that this was pure bitchery from Mrs McCormac. About the only thing he acknowledged as useful from his mother was the naming convention: That McCormac Woman. None of the occupants of the two flats would look at each other, let alone speak.

After a few weeks, he accepted that Luke McCormac had gone forever. He bumped into Keith Scott in Town, but when he asked Keith about that night, his eyes glazed over and all he could say was that Luke had gone into the Army.

He sometimes saw some of the other skater-kids, but ignored them, just as they ignored him. Some of them had started taking nasty Muggle drugs. These were even worse than the booze that his parents poured into themselves.

One Saturday, he was in the market with three of his classmates when Ben O'Neill came up to him and asked him to go into the toilets with him. He said no thanks, and was somehow glad that he had company.

Occasionally he wondered about Sex. He had a fair idea of what it usually involved, but he had a feeling that there was another sort of Sex where two boys did something mysterious together. Perhaps Luke and Keith had been doing that. Perhaps Ben wanted to do it with him in the toilets. It was all a mystery, but the world was full of mysteries, and he gave very little thought to the topic.

Euan's best friend in the classroom was a clever and pretty girl called Lisa Satchwell. She invited him to tea after school one day, when he met her brothers: Andrew, four years older than Lisa; Peter, two years behind Andrew; and little Timmy, who was only just two years old.

Mr Satchwell was away in the Muggle Navy. Mrs Satchwell was a friendly woman, but perpetually harassed—with four young children to look after, there was always a long to-do list. Financial worries were absent, though: Lieutenant Commander Satchwell often joked that his screw was as good as the screws that drove his frigate.

The kids were excited that Daddy was shortly being granted three weeks shore-leave.

"Will he sail up the canal?" asked Euan.

"Bless you, no!" laughed Mrs Satchwell, "He'll sail into Pompey, and take the train."

"Why don't you live at Pompey, then?"

"We started living at his base, but there's too much moving. Here we are in Banbury, and here we stay."

Euan and Peter clicked immediately. They were both quiet boys, but Peter had a latent streak of bossiness, and Euan was used to being protected by an older boy. In addition, Peter was happy that Euan's friendship with Lisa eliminated the occasional squabbling that had previously existed between brother and sister.

Soon, Euan was spending most of his free time with the Satchwells, their cheerful companionship mitigating the loss of Luke and the toxic atmosphere at home.

The first sleepover came, to be followed by many more, so solving the Abercrombie's baby-sitting dilemma.

The Satchwell house—barely eighty yards from Cake Close—had five bedrooms; but one of these was reserved for grandparental visits; and another—designated the Box Room—was filled with the paraphernalia needed to run a house full of children. It also doubled as a homework room—underused, sad to say.

Lisa had her own room; Timmy slept with his mother; and the eldest boys shared a room. They had a bunk bed, installed to leave space for the day when Timmy would join them.

Euan was allocated a foam mattress on the floor, with Mickey-Mouse-themed duvet and pillow.

It was a house filled with happiness—apart from the residents and Euan, there were always plenty of visitors: Lisa's friends, screaming and giggling; Andrew's friends, bantering and arguing about video games; and toddling all over the house, little Timmy, gabbling and gurgling happily at everyone.

Euan felt like one of the family, and was treated as such: one day, Mrs Satchwell called: "Peter and Euan! Go down to the Co-op, please, and get five pounds of spuds for dinner."

They took the push-chair to do the lugging; and, as they were taking the push-chair, they took Timmy along for the ride.

They walked by the big green surrounded by the Trust houses, where the poorer people lived. They passed the flats—three blocks; three storeys. This was where you could find even poorer people. They crossed the main road at the lights and went into the Co-op.

Euan and Peter had a bag of sweets between them; Timmy had a small bar of fudge, which he called fug. The boys always giggled at this. The potatoes were a bit less than five pounds in weight. This was because of something called Metrication. The prices had been revised. Prices were always reduced or revised—never increased.

They had half an hour's fun, playing with Timmy on the slide, swings, and roundabout. Timmy had a poo-poo, but it was Peter's turn to take him.

As they passed the flats on the return journey, two young men came out. They looked peculiar: one man had layers of his hair dyed blonde; the other had a beard, but he was too young to grow a proper one and there were bald bits.

"Gays," said Peter, "Mind your arse."

"What do you mean?" asked Euan.

"They'll have your arse."

"What, cut it off?"

"No, yer twit! They want to stick their cock up your arse."

"Why?"

"Because they're gays and gays are weird."

"Is that like when people stick their cock up a woman's fanny?"

"Yeah; one of 'em dresses like a woman, and the other one sticks his cock up his arse."

"They were both dressed as men."

"Yeah, they've got to look normal when they're out, or they get beat up."

"Which one was the woman?"

"The one without the beard, I suppose."

"I thought they looked nice."

"They're not; they're different."

They got back, and Mrs Satchwell wiped Timmy's face.

"Chocolate at both ends," said Peter, and they giggled as they slumped in front of the TV.

Over the next few months, Euan occasionally thought of cocks going up arses. One day, he lay on his bed and looked at his arsehole with a hand-mirror. He pushed his finger up, and tried to imagine it was a man's winkle. His finger smelt of poo afterwards, so he didn't do it again.

He had never seen a fanny, and supposed it to be just like an arsehole. It must be funny having one at the front and one at the back. Women didn't really need two holes: they could make do with one, and poo and piss out the same place. Then he realised that they did need two holes: men had to be able to stick their cock in one of them without getting poo all over it. Only gays liked poo on their cocks.

He and Peter learned—mainly from Andy and his mates—that the reason men did this to women was to make new babies. He had learned this fact at the Skate Park, but had forgotten it. He also learned again that this was why winkles got stiff sometimes.

On one of his leaves, Mr Satchwell took them to play squash—they had a court on his ship. In the changing rooms, Euan saw that men had bigger winkles than boys; and that there was hair all round them.

He wondered if having a gay stick his cock up your arse hurt, and experimented with a green banana, peeling it first so the hard skin didn't cut him. It didn't hurt, but he reckoned it would have hurt if it had been much bigger or harder. He didn't eat the banana.

Sometimes he saw the two gays in the Village, shopping, or waiting at the bus stop. They were always changing their appearance: beards came and went, and hair styles and colours changed every time. What never changed, though, was that they were always smiling and talking to each other. He liked them, but never said hello, though they were hardly likely to stick their cocks up his arse at the bus stop.

One morning it was pouring with rain, so they stayed indoors. After some chat and idling, the brothers settled down with a video game, and Euan played Mothers and Fathers with Lisa. The pair were Mr and Mrs Windsor—cousins of the Queen—and they had to wake Lisa's dolls up and potty, dress and feed them. Then Mr Windsor went off to sea, and they had a party when he returned. All this wasn't really a game as Lisa and Euan were going to be married when they grew up, and Euan was going into the Royal Navy.

Mrs Satchwell had taken Timmy into Town on the bus to do some shopping, and the children had to get their own elevenses. As they lounged in the kitchen, Andrew suggested: "Shall we have a Show?"

Euan thought that this would be fun: they could do juggling, singing, dancing and jokes for each other.

But the three Satchwells looked furtive and giggly. "Can you keep a secret, Euan?" asked Andy.

"You know I can," he said.

Andy took a knife from the drawer and gave it to Euan, saying: "Point this at your heart and promise."

"Promise what?"

"Promise you'll never tell anyone what we're going to do."

"I promise," he said: solemnly, despite it being a bit stupid.

Then Andy pulled down his tracksuit bottoms and underpants; Pete did the same.

Euan giggled. What a fuss about nothing! They had seen each other's winkles hundreds of times. Still, that's what they wanted, so he dropped his own kit as well.

Then he remembered with a shock: Lisa was there!

He turned and saw that she had her knickers around her ankles.

Euan's priority was clear: he wanted assurance that Lisa was happy. He looked at her face, and she smiled. He smiled back, and only then lowered his eyes.

At last he had got to see a fanny; and it was nothing like an arsehole: arseholes are small, brown, wrinkled, dirty, and hidden away; Lisa had a slit that was larger and bolder. It was a smooth, clean white, and was let into a pretty little mound.

He gazed and gazed. It was so sweet. When Luke and the others had told him that girls didn't have winkles, he had felt sorry for them; but now he knew that fannies were a much more appealing sight.

He wondered how Lisa pissed and asked her: "Can I touch it?"

Andy told him: "No! That's really dirty. We must never do that. Only scummy girls and boys do that."

Clothing was adjusted, and Mr Windsor was even more manly for the rest of the morning.

The boys discovered wrestling on the television. It was very exciting, though most of the time was wasted with all the posturing, shouting, and commentating. The three boys sometimes wrestled, which was silly as Andy could effortlessly subdue Pete, who could master Euan with even more ease.

Still, they enjoyed the sport, clasping each other, and rolling about the floor until they had to lie panting, holding the clinch, but motionless—except that Andy sometimes rubbed his body against Euan, trying to tickle him, and always reducing him to giggles while Andy squeaked with delight.

Life was good, because Euan could always escape the bad bits at the Satchwells.

Granny Smith turned up her heels, as Lucrezia decorously put it, before embarking on a rancorous quarrel with her father and siblings about inheritance.

But then came the real bombshell.

4

One day, at going-home time, Euan left school with Lisa Satchwell, and some of their friends. As usual, they walked slowly, with all their animation manifesting itself in their prattling mouths, free at last of scholastic restrictions.

He noticed a girl standing further down the road. There were plenty of mothers waiting for their chicks, but this girl stood out in two respects: she was still a teenager; and she was visibly pregnant.

She was talking to some of the children. To Euan's surprise, one of the boys appeared to be pointing at him.

She smiled at Euan as he approached. She was shortish, with brownish hair and a prettyish face; but there was nothing ish about her big tits and fat belly.

"Euan?" she said, "I'm your sister."

She had a nice, friendly voice, whose tones Euan noticed more than the extraordinary words she seemed to have spoken.

"I beg your pardon?" he said—Mrs Satchwell was a perfectionist when it came to manners.

"I'm your sister," the girl repeated, a broad, attractive smile appearing on her face.

It was bizarre: why should a normal-looking girl say such a thing? "I haven't got a sister," he said dully.

"So Lucrezia didn't tell you," she said, "I might have expected that. But it's true: my name's Iona Lundberg—Iona Chumeridge since I got married."

Euan stood agape, his thoughts whirling, unable to grasp anything.

It was Lisa who took charge: "If you're his sister, why has he never heard about you?"

"I ran away from home when Euan was two," said Iona.

"Why haven't you come back to see him before?"

"I do feel guilty about that. But I knew it would have to be kept secret, because Lucrezia wouldn't allow it; and I couldn't think of a way of doing it. Besides, to be honest, my boyfriend—Mark—was in my head all the time."

"Are you his full sister? Were there earlier wives?"

"Yes I'm Euan's full sister: firstborn of Carl and Lucrezia Lundberg."

"Why did you run away?"

"I hated Lucrezia and her creep of a second husband. My boyfriend's parents said I could move into theirs, so I jumped at the chance."

"But now you're here."

"Yes, it's time for Euan to be part of our family—which is getting bigger, as you can see."—She patted her tum—"And we want Euan to be godfather to our baby."

"That's sweet," said Lisa, "Come on, Euan, say something!"

"I don't know what to say," said Euan, "I can't believe she kept it secret."

"Can't you?" said Iona, "Think about it: it's just like her, isn't it?"

"Yes. I didn't know who my father was till I changed schools. Lucrezia had to do some sort of registration, and I saw that my father was Carl Philipp Emanuel Lundberg. I asked Lucrezia about him, and she said he was a drunken dosser."

"Lovable rogue, more like," said Iona, "I loved him, and so did you; and he loved us, for all his faults."

There was quite a knot of people by this time—interested in what was likely to prove a real-life soap opera.

Andrew Satchwell arrived and asked what was going on. When the situation had been explained, he asked: "How do we know you're really Euan's sister?"

"I think we can take that as read," laughed Iona, and, misinterpreting the point of Andy's question, added: "Whatever else she was, I don't think Lucrezia was a great adulteress. Power and wealth were her thing."

"There've been cases where weirdos have used women to lure kids away so they can be raped and murdered."

Iona laughed again. "Do I really look like that sort of girl?"

"That's the whole point. You'd be good at it. I think we should call the police."

"Don't get the police in," Iona told Euan, "The Ministry will get involved, and we'll have fines and costs."

"I don't know," said Euan.

"What Ministry?" asked Andrew.

"Let's see what Mum thinks," said sensible Lisa, and they all accepted the proposal with relief.

They walked down the hill, Iona asking about Sestick Castle Junior School, and receiving monosyllabic answers. All he could think was Is she my sister? He wanted desperately to believe that this wholesome girl was his sister, but couldn't have borne the disappointment if she'd proved false.

Euan and Peter had to do a slight diversion: they couldn't risk passing the Abercrombie flat, as Euan might have been summoned to do chores, of which there were more and more every day.

By the time they had reached the Satchwells, Iona and Mrs Satchwell were great friends. They all had tea together, Iona sitting with Timmy on her lap for practice. Mrs Satchwell quizzed Iona on the status of her pregnancy; then they moved on to husbands and their work.

Iona and Mark lived in Kensington—Near Peter Pan said Lisa—and Mark worked in the Planning Department of the London Underground. Euan knew that this meant that he was really an Administrator in the Floo Network.

Gradually, everyone realised how ridiculous was the idea that Iona might be an impostor.

Euan and Iona bonded by putting Timmy to bed. He hugged her tightly and told her: "I'm really glad I've got a sister."

Time came for Iona to Disapparate home.

"Euan'll see me to the bus stop," she said.

"Buses at eight o'clock at night!" laughed Mrs Satchwell. "You'd think they were a public service, or something. I'll call you a taxi."

"I've come out without any money," said Iona, "I've got my train ticket safe, but nothing else."

"I'll lend you the money, Iona," said Mrs Satchwell.

"See, Mum" laughed Andrew, "I was right all along: she is a criminal—not a child-abductor, but a con-artist."

"You were right to think of the police, Andrew" said his mother, "And right to bring Iona here. You can't be too careful."

So the Statute of Secrecy forced Iona to take a taxi round the corner so she could Apparate discreetly.

Back home, things were as awful as usual for Euan, but it was Muggles to the rescue again: he convinced Lucrezia and George that it would be suspect to the point of breaking the Statute, if Lisa and Pete were not allowed to visit him. This forced the Abercrombies to keep up some pretence of a genuine marriage—they were sleeping in separate bedrooms by now, which meant that Euan was relegated to the tiny third bedroom. It also required a clean and tidy home.

One night the Muggle police picked up Euan when he had been sent out late at night for a Chinese takeaway. The police set the Muggle Social Services onto the Abercrombies, so they had to be on their best behaviour—keeping Euan smart and feeding him properly.

Another brush with the Muggles came when the Council Environmental Health Department complained about the rats infesting Cake Close due to the Abercrombie's slovenliness with their rubbish and their overgrown garden. Lucrezia turned down the Council's offer to deal with the rats for eighty pounds. Instead, she used a strong poison from Knockturn Alley: Vlad's Venomous Vermifuge. This got rid of the rats—but also, to Euan's anger, several cats and dogs.

The negative aspect of all the Muggle harassment was that shopping, gardening, cooking and cleaning were done on a three-way rota, so Euan had much less free time.

However, Lucrezia didn't dare stop Euan's sleepovers, and Mrs Satchwell agreed to cover for him when, on one glorious Saturday, Iona Apparated him to spend the weekend in Kensington.

Euan took to Mark Chumeridge at once. He was a big, blond wizard, always laughing, always interested in Euan's pleasures and problems. On the Sunday evening, he Flooed with Euan back to Banbury—he was not brilliant at Apparating—a deficiency which had led him to seek employment with the Floo Network in the first place. Iona married a Floozie he told Euan.

There was a hiatus in visits to the Chumeridges before a Muggle letter, sent to the Satchwells' address, announced the wonderful news that Iona had produced a healthy baby boy. His name was Staffa, and Mark's letter assured Euan that he was the most beautiful thing in the world.

As soon as possible, Mark collected Euan, and took him to meet the new arrival. Euan decided that Staffa was, in fact, the ugliest thing in the world, and made the most horrible noise in the world. And Euan loved him instantly—loved him more than anyone had loved anyone else, ever.

"One day me and Lisa will produce a baby," he told his happy sister, "But he or she won't be half as nice as Staffa."

Back at the Satchwells, there was ominous news: "Your mother was round looking for you," said Mrs Satchwell, "I told her what we agreed: you were with Ian Wilson, and I didn't know where he lived."

"Thanks, Mrs Satchwell," said Euan, "I'd better go and face the music."

In Cake Close, the feared Inquisition was active: "Who's this Ian Wilson?" (Quack quack! thought Euan.) "I didn't give you permission to traipse round Banbury staying with strange Muggles."

"Sorry Mother," said Euan, thinking of ten tiny fingers, and ten tiny toes, "Do you want some cooking or cleaning done?"

"Too bloody right I do! The paramedics were all snooty and was I raising a child in this place. We can expect the Social to stick their noses in—the Ministry Social, and they'll give us more hell than the Muggles."

"What were the paramedics doing?"

"Carting away your father. He's had a stroke and he's in St Mungo's. You can start by getting rid of the bottles. And do that Muggle recycling thing properly this time: they said they'd prosecute us if we got it wrong again."

It was a new, tougher régime, with Euan banned from going anywhere, apart from school.

The monotony was broken by another form of monotony: they had to visit George in hospital, the three of them trying to talk and behave like a normal family.

Lucrezia was suspicious of the easy confidence with which Euan used the Floo. "Have you been Flooing round the country without my permission?" she asked.

"No; I'm always with the Satchwells and other Muggles," he said, while thinking: Staffa's about four miles from here.

Things were even worse when George came home. St Mungo's discharged him (like pus, thought Euan) as soon as he was able to go to the loo by himself; but Euan had to do everything else for him.

The last duty of the day was to make mugs of cocoa for Lucrezia and George at ten o'clock. By this time, Lucrezia would be in bed, sozzled; and George, after an energetic day watching TV would be ready for sleep. Euan had to add a measure of Calming Potion to George's cocoa.

Lisa and Peter came round after school quite often. It was company for Euan, before Lucrezia shooed them out so that he could make dinner.

After dinner, Euan generally read in his room. His favourite author was Agatha Christie, and his favourite book The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

It was Andrew who had the bright idea of inventing Saturday Remedial Classes. A realistic Consent Form was produced, and Euan was signed up by Lucrezia for physical and academic training from nine to five, every Saturday—free lunch included.

"Work hard and we might get a Hogwarts Scholarship," said Lucrezia, with money, as ever, a strong motivator.

In reality, Mark came at nine o'clock every Saturday to Floo with Euan down to Kensington for a delightful day with the Chumeridges.

As well as becoming a godfather, and enjoying further bonding with Staffa, he learned about his family history, including the death of his father.

"You've got to admit, it's totally in character," said Iona, "I think she probably did kill him."

"I know she killed him," said Euan, "And George is next in line now he's not bringing in any Galleons."

Mark got a Ministry dispensation and started wizard-training with Euan, who proved reasonably adept. He concentrated on a few core charms, being eventually able to manage them with Mark's and Iona's wands, and by extension, any wand.

On two occasions, the three Chumeridges came up to Banbury and spent a happy day with the Satchwells. Lisa spent most of these days nursing baby Staffa.

Looking back, Euan saw that there was an inexorability about the few months, leading up to the day when he was called into the Headmaster's office and told that his mother had been found dead in bed.

5

The death of a witch within a Muggle-embedded Zone, and with a son at a Muggle school, caused an inevitably complicated set of problems for the folks in the Muggle Relations and Obliviator offices; but the staff were skilled, experienced and dedicated. The Obliviators in particular had seen it all before, and were less hampered by bureaucracy than other workers within the Ministry.

Euan was taken by a teacher to Mrs Satchwell, and thence by Mark to Kensington. After eight years, he had re-entered the world of magic.

Euan had recently learnt a new word: hypocrisy. That quality was completely absent from the Chumeridge household.

"This is the happiest day of my life!" said Iona, hugging her brother.

"And mine!" said Euan.

"Count me in!" said Mark, joining in the hug.

Baby Staffa responded to the waves of joy with his own gurgle—and probably with a poop in his nappy.

"What's going to happen to poor old George?" asked Euan.

The Ministry's Social Services and St Mungo's Outreach Department will have to look after him," said Iona.

"I'd like to do one thing for him."

"What's that?"

"Keep his name. It can live on as a reward for the years he suffered with her; and there's plenty of Lundberg brothers busily breeding to keep our father's name alive. We've even got two cousin Carls."

"What about inheritance?" asked Mark.

"I don't want a Knut from that witch," said Iona, "What about you, darling?"

"Not a Knut," agreed Euan, "But I would like my books, my Transformers, and my Top Trumps."

"I'll see to that," said Mark, "Anything for my cherished brother-in-law."

The cremation was surprisingly well-attended. During the service, Iona whispered to Euan that all the rabble who had ostracised Lucrezia during her life had turned up to assure themselves that she was really dead.

The Abercrombie relatives held a wake, but the Chumeridge family politely declined the invitation. George himself was, of course, unfit to attend anything.

On the day after the cremation, a Senior Auror called Mr. S. Proudfoot, according to his card, visited and talked with Euan and Iona.

"We've given out that Mrs Abercrombie died of natural causes," he told them, "But the Department feels that the family are entitled to know the truth. In addition, Euan, you may be able to fill in some of the details for us."

Iona put a protective arm around Euan. They were squeezed together on the sofa.

"The first thing that I have to tell you is that your mother died of poisoning."

"Poisoning!" said Iona, "That's so unlikely. Are you sure?"

"Positive. The Magical Post Mortem was conclusive. Now Euan, do you know if there was any poison in the house?"

"There was poison last year," said Euan, "But I think it was all used on the rats."

"You don't know if there was any left over?"

"No."

"Do you remember what the rat-poison was called?"

"Vee something."

"Vlad's Venomous Vermifuge?"

"That's it, I think."

"Well it was Vlad's Venomous Vermifuge that killed your mother."

"How do you know?" asked Iona.

"It was detected in the b—er inside you mother; and a half-empty mug of cocoa containing some was found on her bed-side table."

"I didn't poison the cocoa!" squeaked Euan, looking alarmed.

"No-one's saying you did," laughed Mr Proudfoot, "Let me say again: officially, Mrs Abercrombie died of natural causes and we're not trying to make a case for murder against anyone. There are other possibilities."

"Suicide?" suggested Iona.

"Did your mother ever show signs of wanting to end it all?"

"No," said Euan.

"Only by drinking herself to death—like poor old Abercrombie," said Iona.

"Now Euan," said Mr Proudfoot, "Did you prepare the cocoa?"

"Yes," said Ewan, "I did it every night. A mug for Mother and a mug for Father."

"And that night was just like any other?"

"Yes."

"And were they both plain cocoas?"

"No; father had to have two tablespoonfuls of Calming Potion in his."

"That was prescribed by St Mungo's after he had a stroke?"

"I don't know. Mother told me so."

"St Mungo's do indeed confirm that. How full was the bottle of Calming Potion that night?"

"About half full.

"So you added two tablespoonfuls to your father's mug, and took it to him?"

"Yes, I put it on the bed-side table and said goodnight."

"And then the same for your mother?

"Yes?"

"At first sight, it would seem that the poison was added within her bedroom."

"So it was suicide," said Iona, "I can hardly believe it."

"There is a complication: inside the larder, we found a half-full bottle of Calming Potion, that had been laced with the poison."

"But that's impossible!" said Iona, "Abercrombie would have died."

"We'll come on to that later. There's another complication: within a locked drawer inside your mother's wardrobe, a bottle of the rat poison was found."

"So Lucrezia laced the Calming potion!" said Iona. "But everyone would have known."

"And combined with the suspicion that she murdered her first husband, there would have been a Bayesian Conviction. Especially as she had a strong motive in that Mr Abercrombie could be of no further use to her after his stroke."

"And it misfired."

"Let me add a third complication: within the drawer, we also found a second half-full bottle of Calming Potion, which was pure and unlaced with the poison."

"This just gets weirder," said Iona.

"There is one more piece of evidence. Have you heard of Priori Incantatem!?"

Euan shook his head, and Iona said: "Of course."

"A way of revealing what recent spells have been worked by a wand. Mrs Abercrombie's last spell was a Colloportus!—presumably to lock the drawer. Before that, she had done, in order, Accio Bottle! Propello Bottle! Accio Bottle! Propello Bottle! Earlier spells had been wiped. The sequence makes it possible to reconstruct Mrs Abercrombie's crime."

"Please do," said Iona, "I can't make head or tail of it."

"It's a clever scheme. Mrs Abercrombie had obtained a double for the healthy, half-full bottle of calming potion. She swapped bottles, and dosed up the new one, leaving it in the larder. When Mr Abercrombie had succumbed, your mother would have transferred the two bottles from the drawer to the larder, and Vanished the bottle containing the lethal mixture. The supposition would have been that the rat poison had been carelessly left in the larder—Mr Abercrombie could have been blamed. Euan would have been assumed to have mistaken the bottles in the dim light—they are both standard One-Gill Magic Vials—and accidentally poisoned his stepfather. The clean bottle was, naturally enough, smothered in Euan's fingerprints. The bottle of poison had a single set of prints. Did your mother ever get you to pick up a bottle once only, Euan?"

"I can't remember," said Euan.

"It was a perfect crime . . . except."

"Except," said Iona.

"Except," said Mr Proudfoot, "Euan really did make a mistake: he somehow or other got the mugs the wrong way round, and the perpetrator became the victim. I call that Justice, and I thank Fate for confusing Euan."

"I think we all do," said Iona, "Let's put it behind us, little brother."

"Yes, that's the approach," said the Auror, "It's all over. Mrs Abercrombie died of drink and everyone else can get on with their lives."

Euan smiled wanly, and with a shaking of hands, Mr Proudfoot left.

"We didn't offer him a drink," said Iona, "I wonder if he'd have taken a mug of cocoa from you. I will; go and make one now, please, while I see to Staffa."

They sat at the kitchen table with cocoa and biscuits.

"There's just one thing," said Iona.

"What's that?" said Euan.

"Knowing she was going to be using the bottles in a short time, why did she lock the drawer?"

"Force of habit."

The two siblings giggled.

6

Euan's re-entry into the magic world wasn't total: he had a year too go before Hogwarts, and, after discussion, it was agreed that further Muggle education would be better than attendance at a magical Dame School.

At first, Euan was keen to stay at Sestick Castle, but in the end agreed that daily Floo and bus journeys would be too much of a hassle.

They found a good school in Elvaston Place, less than a quarter of a mile from their home in Ashburn Place. Year Six of the school was full up, until the Ministry's, Department of Education assisted with a little light Confunding.

As Euan was now officially registered as an orphan, the Ministry also helped with the fees, which were, in any case, more than reasonable at about a thousand pounds per term.

On his first morning at school, Euan noted the queue of luxury cars waiting to drop the children off. Inside, he found that most of the children were foreign, and that most of the home-growns had already spent five years at Toolse Heath Avenue School.

All this alarmed him, but he soon felt that he wasn't sticking out too much. He kept his head down, did his work, was polite to everybody, and got by quite happily. When things went wrong, he drew fortitude from the prospect of the wonderful daily reunion with Staffa.

Iona and Mark took him for his first visit to Diagon Alley, where an old man fitted him for a wand. The Alley was great fun, and he would have liked to have visited it again, but he was frightened to go by himself. Iona could not keep him company as she was back at work as a secretary in St Mungo's, taking Staffa with her to spend the day in the hospital crèche.

They sometimes went for family visits to the Satchwells. It was good fun roaming his old haunts, often hand in hand with Lisa. It was fun too, playing with Timmy and Staffa. They didn't see much of Andrew, as he had a girlfriend now; but, when he was around, he was still as friendly as ever to Euan; still enjoying a wrestle; still an aficionado of the bear-hug, with one hand squeezing Euan's bottom, which Euan thought delightfully intimate. He remembered when Luke had squeezed his bottom, and wished Peter would do it; but Peter's wrestling repertoire involved hands staying well away from front and back bits.

Euan had a carefree and happy life, though, away from his safe areas—home, school and the Satchwells—he was edgy.

The day for the School Sports arrived. Euan would be mainly spectating, with just a touch of also-running. He saw one odd incident: in the two hundred metres, a boy called Houlihan was second with a few yards to go. Then the leader contrived to trip himself up, and Houlihan was the winner. His parents looked proud of their son—in fact, they looked proud full stop. Afterwards, Euan thought that the trip had looked awfully like a jinx, and wondered if Houlihan was a wizard. He was a year younger than Euan, so they didn't know each other, but Euan asked around and learnt that Houlihan's father had been head of an African country, and had been deposed, fleeing to England with him what his informant called a nine-figure sum.

Mr Satchwell was ashore for some time during the summer holidays, and the two families had a week at the seaside. Euan had had plenty of swimming lessons, and was more than competent, but he and the other boys still had to wear life-jackets when they tried surfing.

Andrew was in a sort-of disgrace: he had got his girlfriend pregnant, and was going to be a father at fifteen. The situation would need sorting out after the holiday, but it gave Euan a chance to improve his knowledge: "Andy," he said, as the three boys were walking on the beach one evening, "You know boys get hair round their winkles when they're teenagers?"

"Yeah."

"Do girls get hair too?"

"Yeah, that's why they call it a pussy, or a fur pie."

"Go on, Andy, tell us what it's like doing it," said Pete. He was interested now.

"I told you before, our kid: you'll learn soon enough."

"Go on, Andy," said Euan, " We won't tell anyone. Please."

"Okay," said Andy, "Well, you give her a cuddle and kiss the mouth off her; then you kiss her on the tits and you finger her pussy till it's dripping wet; then you ram your cock right deep inside her hole; and you bang her and bang her and bang her as hard as you can, and as deep as you can; and you keep on banging and banging real deep like stabbing her till your spunk shoots inside her."

"What's it feel like?" asked Pete.

"Can't describe it, but it's the best possible feeling you can have, so you wait half an hour and do it again."

There was an awed silence from the two younger boys. Then Euan asked: "Is it good because you know she'll have a baby?"

Andy laughed, and ruffled Euan's hair: "Bless you, no, as the old girl would say. That was a mistake. The silly cow was meant to be on the pill, but she was too lazy to take it."

"You're bare simple!" shouted Pete, and wrestled Euan to the ground. Andy joined in, and they rolled around in the sand, laughing and whooping. The two brothers got Euan into a Satchwell sandwich, and jerked him backwards and forwards.

After a while they stopped, and got back to their feet.

"Come on we'd better get back," said Andy.

As they walked, he put an arm around Pete's shoulder. "Best possible feeling you can have, our kid," he said.

Pete giggled.

"C'mere you!" said Andy, and Euan nestled up to him as he put his other arm around Euan's shoulders.

Euan put an arm around Andy's waist, but encountering Pete's arm, felt justified in shifter lower. He felt Andy's firm bottom. It was nice.

They walked like this for a quarter of a mile before seeing other people, and casually uncoupling. Euan was slightly disappointed: he was an affectionate boy, and liked showing his affection in public. It was sad that Pete and Andy seemed to get embarrassed at showing that they liked each other. But all boys seemed to have that weakness.

The holiday came to an end.

In London, Iona took Euan on another trip to the Alley to get kitted out for Hogwarts.

He was in a bit of a dither: he wanted to go and learn wizardry; but it was so unknown that it seemed threatening.

"You'll love it," said Mark, "I did."

"I didn't," said Iona, "Because I wasn't allowed to go. I was only a girl."

"You didn't get to go because all your cow of mother wanted for you was to marry a rich husband."

"Which I did," laughed Iona, "Though I'll probably have to wait forty years for him to get rich."

On the day before the Hogwarts Express, they had a happy family day out the park. That night, Euan shed a few tears on his pillow, and bravely told himself: I'm not frightened! I'm just sad at saying goodbye to Staffa.

7

Iona and Mark came to see Euan off on the Hogwarts express. Knowing his nervousness, they settled him into a compartment of little girls, where he was less likely to feel threatened.

The girls were okay, and he quite enjoyed the journey, until the time came to change into Hogwarts uniform robes. Then he tensed up. He was going to be alone, surrounded by hundreds of boys who might bully him. There would be cane-wielding teachers. He was going to have to sleep in a dormitory with strange boys; to shower with them, and have them laugh at his puny body; to ride on, and probably fall off, a broomstick; to make a fool of himself in the classroom.

He had worked himself into an awful state, and was terrified of the gruff-voiced, manly-looking woman who led them onto the boats; even more terrified of the stern woman who regimented the forty new-comers into the Great Hall.

They were to walk, one at a time, through the hundreds of staring children, and put a hat on.

His name was called. He was the first on the list.

You can do this he said to himself, and stumbled down the long aisle.

He put the Hat on his head and heard a voice:

You're in a right old state, aren't you? But so much Courage! And what a talent for Friendship! Definitely . . .

Gryffindor!

He took the Hat off and stumbled back towards the table where people were cheering and waving. His face was burning so much that he felt people must be laughing at him on that account alone.

He sat down at the foot of the table, and tried to make himself look small—not particularly difficult, but how he wished he could vanish to nothing.

People were smiling at him; shaking his hand; patting his back.

Suddenly, things weren't as bad: the Hat had said he had Courage. Everyone seemed friendly. More boys and girls were joining the Gryffindor table; and they were smiling.

One of the boys, Peter Jones, had sandy hair and freckles. He looked such a happy boy, that Euan felt happy too. Peter must have picked up Euan's joy, because he came and sat next to Euan. The two boys squeezed close together on the bench. Euan knew that he had made a friend.

To his other side came Paul Smith, a blond boy who was as pretty as a china doll.

The Headmaster made a speech; then they had a fabulous meal.

Afterwards the Headmaster and a nice old dear in a fluffy cardigan spouted some more.

Then the Feast was over, and a gangly red-haired prefect addressed them as midgets, and led them out. As they passed a scruffy boy in spectacles, Paul whispered in Euan's ear: "That's Harry Potter. He's nutty as a fruitcake and they say he's into the Dark Arts." Euan scuttled to get away from Potter and found himself leading the group. He hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself in any way, but now he knew that he had Courage, so he confidently led the others as they followed the prefect to Gryffindor.

He thought the castle was as wonderful as the meal, and the dormitory as wonderful as the castle.

Their trunks were at the bottom of five four-poster beds. Peter and Paul swapped so that Euan could be next to Peter.

They sat at the foot of their beds and introduced themselves. It was all a bit formal to begin with, but the natural leader of the dormitory, a tall dark-haired boy called James Carter, soon put them at ease.

Euan and Alexander Bell were the quietest. Alexander had fairish hair and a long face, which, in repose, had an expression of sadness; but, as things eased up, he sometimes smiled and laughed, looking as happy as the other four.

They talked and talked about their life and about the (mostly inaccurate) things they had heard about Hogwarts. Euan and Peter were the only two who had had much to do with Muggles, which made them even closer.

When they went to bed, Euan curled up happily, knowing that he had made, not one, but four real friends.

Next morning, they had a lot of fun finding their way down to the Great Hall. Every first-year received an owl during breakfast.

"It'll be a Welcome to Hogwarts. No magic in the corridors letter," said James, but it turned out to be a note from someone called Danny Jorrocks, inviting them to a meeting.

The author was pointed out to them: a small fourth-year, still only thirteen; with an impish face, and an air of enjoying life. Euan had noticed him earlier: he had been talking to Potter, but had been manhandled away by two bigger boys.

"We're in luck," said James, "Jorrocks is going to reveal all sorts of magical secrets that first-years didn't know about in past years." This time James was speaking the truth.

The female prefect called Granger demanded Euan's copy of the letter. She read it with approval, and told Jorrocks, who had sidled up, that he was doing something good. Close to, Jorrocks was an even more attractive person: forever bubbling with infectious wit, happiness, and friendliness. Euan liked him a lot. He also liked Grainger. He wondered if all the girl-prefects were like her.

Jorrocks departed with his two big friends, and a blond boy of about fourteen, who was positively the most beautiful person that Euan had ever seen—apart from Baby Staffa, of course. How could he have found Paul Smith pretty?

Their first lesson was with Snape. Euan might have been expected to be terrified of him, but the Sorting Hat's diagnosis of Courage had proved self-fulfilling.

Euan's partner was Peter Jones. He had turned down a request from a girl called Jackie Whitbread, but made up for it by keeping her company at meals and in the common room.

On the Monday evening, Euan had another treat. Carter went for a shower in his birthday suit; going and returning, his towel was thrown over his shoulder, and his winkle was waving like a flag of honour.

Thereafter, none of the boys were embarrassed about their bodies—not even Euan, whose worst fears had been realised: he had the most underdeveloped body and the tiniest winkle; and it didn't matter a jot.

Their shared nakedness served as an extra bond, and by the time of Thursday's meeting, they were like a family—a proper, Satchwell sort of family, that is to say; not like the Abercrombies and McCormacs of Euan's earlier years.

In Danny's brief meeting, he told them that he was gay, and proposed the formation of a gay support group among the first-years. Euan hadn't thought much about gayness in his life, and was surprised that a little boy like Danny should seem so confident that he was gay.

He felt a sense of loss and nostalgia as thoughts of Luke McCormac and Keith Scott came into his mind. He realised now that he had loved Luke more than anyone else in the world. Probably Luke and Keith had loved each other too. The horrible McCormacs had separated the three of them—not just the McCormacs: the whole world seemed to be against boys who loved each other.

Danny talked about emotional feelings towards other boys and the fact that boys could be temporarily or partially gay.

Danny told them: Join if you feel boys can love each other; join even if you just have a vague feeling that you might be interested in gay relationships—physical or emotional—some time in the future. You can join even if it's only because you feel sympathetic to gay boys.

Euan found the words inspirational. Of course he would join. He liked girls a lot, but he fulfilled all three of Danny's criteria for supporting gays; and he remembered his friends' contempt for the two gay men in Banbury.

At the end of the meeting, Danny left, and the boys straggled out after him. They heard Caerwen Morgan and Gideon Buchanan telling Danny they would be joining his group.

Back at Gryffindor, they found that Weasley's big brothers were selling Skiving Snackboxes. Since these were of much more interest than gay stuff, that was all they talked about for the rest of the evening.

Peter Jones, whose father was a clever Muggle Business Manager, came up with an interesting plan: "Instead of people buying their own Skiving Snackboxes, we could get Snape or Umbridge to eat a Noseblood Nougat. Then the whole class would get to skive."

They discussed ways and means until sleep intervened.

Next morning, Peter received an owl, but kept its contents to himself.

Euan intended to tell Peter that he was going to join the gay group. It came as a slight jolt, therefore, when Peter murmured as they were filing out of Mrs Englishen-Latin's class for morning break: "Can I have a quiet word, Euan?"

Euan decided that this was yet another example of the daft little things that Fate was always springing on you.

They walked down to the lake, and Euan opened his mouth to speak; but Peter got in first: "Please, please, please don't get upset, but I'm joining the gay group."

"I'm not upset," said Euan, "I'm joining too."

"Are you gay, then?"

"Don't be silly. I'm too young to be gay; but I like boys as well as girls; and I remember how the Muggles hated gays, so I'll always stick up for gay boys."

"You're not too young to be gay," said Peter, "I'm gay. I've always been gay, and always will be."

"You can't know that. You're not a man yet—or is it because of your big winkle?"

Peter actually had a tiddler of a penis, but it was twice as thick as the other boys'.

"I don't think so. I've known ever since I can remember—seven . . . six . . . five."

"But you must like girls."

"Sort of; but I don't want to have anything to do with them—ever."

"Then you must be gay; and you're the first gay boy that I'm sticking up for."

"Good for you! That owl this morning was from my dad: he says I can join. Shall I write a note with both our names on and give it to Danny—I like him; don't you?"

"Yeah, he's brilliant. Should we keep it secret for now?"

"Maybe. It's no good looking for trouble."

"Not yet; but perhaps we'll want to look for trouble if it turns out to be a fight."

And perhaps, thought Euan, it might need his newly-recognised Courage.

"What does your dad think about you being gay?" he asked.

"Ever since he married Mum without knowing she was a witch, he's been used to surprises."

"I thought you were Muggle-born?"

"She just pretends. It's all to do with taxation."

Peter slipped their note into Danny Jorrocks' hand as they walked in to dinner that night. Lessons were over, and Euan looked forward to his first weekend at Hogwarts. It was not as carefree as he had hoped: they had homework to do; but that could be put off until Sunday, and they enjoyed a glorious early-autumn day exploring the grounds of the castle; and a glorious evening playing in the corridors and courts.

The gay auspices were good: in the course of the day, Euan had seen several pairs of boys who were obvious couples. These included the two big fourth-year Gryffindors that he had noticed at his first breakfast. They held hands, smiled and whispered to each other, and even had a discreet kiss. They were called Harris and Neill. Euan initially thought that their classmate, the fabulously beautiful Colin Creevey, had a boyfriend too, but it turned out to be his brother, Dennis. He couldn't imagine Peter and Andrew Satchwell being so friendly to each other.

The first-year boys hadn't done much talking all day, and it was only last thing when James Carter remembered: "Anyone coming with me to support the gays?" he called, as they lay in their beds.

Peter got as far as "Me an'—" before Paul Smith said: "I am. They get treated worse than Muggle-borns."

"Me an' Euan are going too," said Peter.

There was silence from Alexander's bed, but at five to seven on Thursday, he joined the other four boys as they left for the inaugural meeting of Juniors In Gay Support (JIGS).

It was one of the best evenings of Euan's life. He learnt lots of things, and, more importantly, learnt lots about his thirteen colleagues. He knew them all from lessons, of course, but now they were revealing their innermost feelings.

He was so happy that big, threatening boys—Leon Wood, James Buckley, and Matthew Hinton—had revealed gentle, caring sides to their characters.

And the tormented gays like Lee Shepherd, Caerwen Morgan and Alexander Bell—possibly Brian Hudson and Nathan Passaro too—would lose their unhappiness because of the support that they would now receive.

And the confident, happy gays—Peter Jones, Gideon Buchanan, and Tintin Wilkes—would be able to do whatever they wanted to with their boyfriends, setting an example to everyone else.

And all these boys could be assured of the total support of Euan and the other non-gay Gryffindors—James Carter and Paul Smith.

When they got back to the common room, Euan sat between Jackie Whitbread and Gerda Long.

"What was it like, Euan?" asked Jackie.

"It was brilliant," he replied, "There are fourteen of us, and we're going to make absolutely certain that gay boys can be happy at Hogwarts."

"So who's gay and who's not?" asked Gerda.

"Shut your face!" said James, squeezing in, and putting his arms around Euan and Gerda, "In the first place, it's none of anyone's business; and secondly, it doesn't matter in the least."

"Well I'm guessing that Tintin might be gay," laughed Jacky.

"Guess away, Darling," said James, laughing himself, "But I'll tell you one thing: that boy doesn't need happiness lessons."

"You said lessons, you killjoy," said Gerda, "We've got to go up on these blooming broomsticks again tomorrow."

Apart from Slytherin's Hudson, it didn't seem to be a vintage year for broomsmen and broomswomen.

That night, they were bubbling over, but went to bed promptly at a quarter to nine, without being nagged.

They replayed the meeting, laughing at the funny bits, and discussing the serious bits.

"It's a real Gryffindor project, isn't it?" said James, "It's all Courage, Compassion and Honesty."

"There's boys in three other houses showing Courage, Compassion and Honesty too," said Paul.

"That's their Gryffindor side," said the dogged James, "Anyway, it was definitely a Gryffindor boy who really put his finger on it."

"Yeah, I really like Danny," said Peter.

"Not Danny; Abercrombie!"

"I never put my finger on anything," laughed Euan.

"You did!" said James, "You said boys can hold hands and kiss each other, and that doesn't mean they're going to have sex together; so now you can put your mouth where your mouth was!"

He hopped out of bed, and ran across to Euan, landing a brief, but warm, kiss on his slightly-resistant lips.

Then he darted round the room, bestowing kisses on the other three boys.

"Take mine as read, you three," said a sleepy-sounding Paul.

Lights were turned off, and the five boys settled under their bedclothes.

"Jones put his finger on it too," called out Euan, "He said boys can love each other without Sex being on the menu."

Their was a murmur of assent, then Peter came over and kissed Euan.

"Shall I stay for the night?" he whispered.

"No," whispered Euan back, "Sex isn't on the menu."

But he was lying: he moistened his winkle, as Danny had prescribed, and started rubbing—wanking it was called: a new word, though kids in Banbury sometimes called each other Wanker.

It was a pleasant feeling, but after a while, he'd had enough and stopped. It looked as though, unlike Danny, he wasn't going to get the Thrill until he got hair round his winkle. He guessed that the others were trying too.

He went to sleep happy in the knowledge that James and Peter had kissed him. This raised bitter-sweet memories of the hedge by the Skate Park where Luke had kissed him, and licked his lips.

He decided that he would kiss Peter and lick his lips first thing in the morning.

It wasn't the happiest of times for Hogwarts: there was the worry about You-Know-Who; the controversy about Harry Potter; the nice old dear in a fluffy cardigan turning into an ogress called Umbridge; the strange passivity of Dumbledore.

But all this meant little to the ten Gryffindor first years: they were all happy in their friendship, and Euan gained tremendously in confidence as his affectionate, tactile qualities made him favourite with all the girls.

As for the boys, they were closely bonded—bonds which were tightened by their occasional practice of lounging together in the dormitory, while wanking themselves in the vain hope of achieving what they now knew was called a pre-pubertal orgasm.

They all kissed each other last thing at night, and first thing in the morning. The kisses were simply chaste smackings together of lips, except for Peter and Euan, who always had what amounted to a short, mild snog—the sort of kiss that Euan sometimes shared with the girls.

Euan had feared that he would disgrace himself in the classrooms, but found that he was somewhere around average, except for Charms, where he surprised himself by being the best in a class that included the brilliant Ravenclaws. Even the duffers weren't laughed at. Jimmy Peakes, a Gryffindor second-year, told Euan and his friends that the new Slytherin lot were much nicer than in earlier years, when the Slytherins had cruelly tormented the less-gifted students.

Peter Jones started absenting himself from their company: he had become close to the pudgy-faced Caerwen Morgan of Ravenclaw, and announced that they were, now and forever, official boyfriends.

Alexander Bell, their other gay boy, seemed happy to do without a boyfriend.

One night, Peter returned to the common room just before bedtime. He was flushed and excited, and Euan guessed what had happened, and hoped with all his heart that his friend had successfully achieved orgasm.

Peter said nothing, but after all the lights were out, he came to Euan's bed and whispered: "Guess what happened."

"Get in; it's cold," whispered Euan.

Peter got into bed, and Euan told him: "I know what happened: Caerwen bummed you."

"No," said Peter, "I bummed Caerwen."

"Did you come?"

"No, but he did."

"Just from being bummed?"

"Yeah, Danny said that could happen."

"What was it like for him?"

"He grunted and groaned and squealed and shouted. There was no-one else in his dorm or they'd have thought we were fighting. He said it was the best feeling he'd ever had, and it was because we loved each other."

"How wonderful for you both. I bet you start coming soon."

Peter kissed him goodnight, and made to go.

"Stay," said Euan, "I've never been in bed with anyone before. It's nice; but Sex isn't on the menu."

They kissed again, and spent the night holding each other. Euan went stiff but they didn't even have a little grope: this was all about love, friendship, tolerance and compassion.

Next morning, the other three boys saw them, and smiled. Paul Smith, still in his Pyjamas, got in with them, and they had a three-way hug before the demands of the day took over.

Thereafter, the three available combinations of the three boys sometimes slept in pairs. Then they discovered that, with two at the top and one at the bottom, they could fit comfortably into a bed.

They got in the habit of sleeping that way on Saturday nights. Alexander and James preferred sleeping by themselves, even though they knew that sex was not involved with the other three.

Sometimes, Paul, in his sleep, tried to kick his companions out of bed. Euan guessed that there was something in his subconscious mind that was frightened of being too physical. But he was still an affectionate boy, and would always hold hands and cuddle when he was awake with the lights off.

Paul had niffy feet, but neither Euan nor Peter would have dreamt of mentioning the fact to him. By December, they agreed that it was a pleasant smell, now they were used to it.

All three were still wanking, but agreed that wanks would only be done when the wanker was alone in his bed. Euan was beginning to get strange feelings in his loins: he knew they were feelings of lust because of the strong urge to wank. The image of Lisa Satchwell's beautiful fanny, and its marble-white little mound came often into his mind. He tried to remember what her chest was like.

Sometimes, Peter stayed in Ravenclaw for the night—usually just with Caerwen, but sometimes joined by the beautiful Adam Watts. Euan found this strange, as Adam had a loving boyfriend called James Poxon; but Peter explained that James wanted to stay a virgin until he and Adam were married, but didn't mind Adam seeking relief elsewhere. Married! Euan felt so happy that gay boys could get married.

Then came the Jiggers' Christmas Treat.

Danny had been insistent throughout the ten or so JIGS meetings that they should stick to theory, not practice: there must be no grounds for suspicion that the first-years were being corrupted or proselytised. But now, for the last meeting of the year, Danny and three of the Gay Champions—Adam Watts, Sea Jay, and Derek Rath—were going to provide an educational show.

First off, Adam allowed the boys an inspection. Some boys just looked, but Euan played with Adam's winkle and balls, and had a close scrutiny of his arse. It was an attractive arse, with a few hairs around the hole.

This was all totally new to Euan, which, he thought explained the most intense feeling of lust that he had ever had—though Adam was a very attractive boy.

Next, they had a close look at Sea Jay's big penis in its fully erect form, before Sea Jay wanked out great spurts of semen. Euan had a sniff, but wasn't too keen on it. He supposed it was like Smithy's feet: you'd get to love the smell in time.

There must have been something about the smell, however: Euan couldn't stop himself slipping a hand inside his robe and wanking.

Danny was telling them about the joy of Sex including the joy of Smell, but Euan couldn't take it in: something was happening.

He had been feeling a warmth everywhere in his middle bits for some time, but now the knob at the end of his winkle started to tingle as though someone was tickling it from the inside.

There was a tremendous tension—concentrated in the middle bits, but all over the rest of his body too.

Then, without any conscious effort, his middle started to jerk, and he was hit with a tidal wave of pleasure.

He couldn't stop himself shouting something. The whole world began to spin, and he seemed to pass out for a time.

Then there was a tremendous feeling of release and satisfaction.

He had come!

Danny told him: "You lucky, lucky boy. You've had a pre-pubertal orgasm—a dry come. You've got two years of fun ahead of you and then it gets better."

Euan sat through the rest of what could only be described as a four-boy orgy on a cloud of happiness. He was happy for the four sexy teenagers cavorting before his eyes; happy for the Jiggers, who were surely getting the Christmas Treat of their lives; happy and proud for himself: he could come! Out of fourteen boys, only he and Caerwen could come.

As soon as they got back to the dormitory, he had to demonstrate; but there was nothing much for the others to see; plenty to hear, however: he simply couldn't stop himself screaming as he achieved his second climax—not stronger, but better because there had been a longer period of anticipation; and because his four dear friends were with him.

Peter and Paul shared his bed that night.

"Shall I bum you and see if you can come that way?" whispered Peter.

"No, just hold me tight," said Euan. He felt he ought to save his arsehole for someone special—not that Peter wasn't special, but he got plenty of bum anyway. Euan wanted to be needed.

On the following Saturday night, the three boys were in Paul's bed, when a problem came: the boys faithfully followed the no-wanking policy until, on the threshold of sleep, Euan's hand crept to his winkle. He rubbed himself, relaxed his tension, and passed into a contented sleep. The trouble was that his loud screams had removed all immediate chances of sleep for his four friends.

This proved a continuing problem, but his friends put up with it—uncomplainingly, but not unpisstakingly.

Then it was Friday: Hogwarts Express day, and his darling Staffa waiting at the end of the platform.

8

The new term came—Lent Term, as they called it in the bumf—and Euan was on several missions: he was going to do better at his lessons; he was going to stay up on a broomstick for longer than thirty seconds; he was going to subvert Umbridge in any way possible; and he was going to have sex with a boy.

The last was the most difficult, as Euan's requirements were very restrictive: he wanted it to mean as much to his partner as it meant to him, though the boy did not necessarily have to be a virgin. He didn't want the exclusivity implied by them being boyfriends—not so much the exclusivity of sex, as the exclusivity of time spent in each other's company: he had lots of friends, and he wanted to spend time with them all. This probably meant that the boy would be a straight, or straightish, boy. He didn't want the boy to be an ordinary, everyday friend. Otherwise he would have shagged Peter Jones long ago . . . and he had a sort of feeling that James Carter would not be uninterested.

There was no-one immediately obvious; but there was no urgency: he had two dozen boys and girls to share Love and Friendship with; and wanking in the showers, and (accidentally) in bed gave him what Andrew Satchwell had called the best possible feeling you can have.

Euan might have been as theoretically selective as he liked, but Sex, like the Muggle god Dionysus, is no respecter of logic or restraint.

One evening, the girls were at Magical Needlework club, and the boys playing some rough game in the Middle Courtyard.

Euan was reading a comic in the common room, when Danny Jorrocks plonked himself next to him, and put his arm around him. They started the comic again, reading it aloud, with Euan doing the straight voices and Danny doing the funny ones. Alexander Bell sat on Danny's other side and soon the two first-years were in hysterics. Never had a comic been so funny.

All of a sudden, Euan felt an intense lust for Danny and his body. He wanted to shag Danny, and be shagged by him—the world not being perfect, these pleasures could not be simultaneous. The thought set him giggling even more, and his winkle went as hard as steel.

The girls came back, and leant against the back of the sofa, enjoying the fun, and giggling as much as Euan and Alexander. For a moment it seemed an intrusion, but then he enjoyed their presence. Jackie Whitbread had her hands on his shoulders and Danny's arm.

They were sent to bed and it was Alexander who suddenly looked attractive. Euan had the urge to hop into his bed, but realised that this was just the glamour of a boy who had spent the last half-hour being cuddled by Danny.

Dionysus retreated, and Euan forgot about sex for a few weeks.

Then, on Valentine's day, he joined a party which, thanks to the marvellous Danny's password-cracking skills, was able to explore some of the forbidden parts of the Castle.

As well as Danny, there were the Creevey twins, and the two bumboys Peter and Caerwen.

Euan was amazed at the tenderness of the two lovers when they were in this small company of sympathetic friends. They were in and out of physical contact all the time: holding hands, hugging, kissing, bottom-groping. They had a number of Welsh endearments. It was sweet. They called each other girlfriend, which was also sweet, but slightly unsettling. Euan never wanted anyone to call him girlfriend.

The Creeveys and Danny—three brothers by adoption—were sweetly physical with each other too; and they did not forget Euan, frequently giving him some physical comfort.

The ebullient Dennis was extra-affectionate after opening his relations with Euan by waving him ahead through a portrait hole before biting his bottom. Admittedly, there were three layers of cloth protecting Euan, but it was still a charming gesture.

Trinity Term came and Euan faced his first exams. But they were a long way off, and he decided to ask Danny for a bit of nookie. Danny fulfilled none of Euan's criteria, except for non-exclusiveness, but he was so brave, charismatic and loyal that he seemed the epitome of Gryffindorian qualities.

But suddenly, Danny had left the school, taking that nice Yuri boy, who had only been there for a few days, with him. The Weasley twins had left too. There were amusing remembrances of boys past in the forms of a perpetual swamp on the fifth floor of the east wing; and, allegedly, a perpetual, lump of shit on Umbridge's bed. This was all good for a laugh, but Euan felt an underlying sadness at the loss of his Gryffindor colleagues.

On the other hand, something happened that made Euan's heart sing: his Alexander had become the special friend of Colin Creevey—Colin, the most beautiful boy in the school had actually lost his heart to the little first-year—not so little now, as Alexander was shooting up like a Basilisk Bamboo.

Alexander had been extra-subdued since the start of term, responding to Euan's kisses and queries with I'm alright Euan, really. With hindsight, Euan guessed that he had been love-struck.

Now he had got his dream, and the first manifestation of intimacy was when Colin lay on Alexander's bed one night to read him a ghost story.

Peter was asleep, but the other three couldn't resist the attraction of the story, and the attraction of the dazzling lovers, and had got into Alexander's bed.

It was a beautiful scenario: Colin with an arm around Alexander; James Carter leaning on Colin's other shoulder; Paul and Euan, squeezing together at the foot of the bed, holding hands.

Euan woke up with just Alexander at the top of the bed, and himself and Paul still at the foot.

He was pleased that Paul had not kicked him out, and even more pleased that Paul was currently holding his bottom tightly. He put his hand on Paul's bottom, and left it there until they all woke up, and it was time to face Friday's lessons.

On the following Sunday, Colin read to Alexander again. This time, he insisted that the other four stayed in their beds. He read the same story, and they all stayed awake to the end. It was a cracking story. Before Colin left, there were unmistakable sounds: Colin and Alexander were having slurpy kisses. At the boys' insistence, each of them got a goodnight kiss from Colin too.

The next few days were all about broomsticks: first of all, Euan had to fall off his broomstick in order to create a diversion so that Peter Jones could get back his stolen Quidditch card. He found this quite easy.

Then, in the Junior Broomstick Cup, Euan had to try genuinely. He ended up with a creditable fifty-two. Dennis Creevey walked back with him. "Beat you by one, Abercrombie!" he said, "That means another bum-bite."

"The last one was pathetic Creevey. A droopy Puffskein could've done better."

"It may be a droopy Puffskein to you, darling, but it fired poofy spunk within me."

"You clever bastard!" said Euan, giving Dennis a hug, "Are you saying you can shoot now?"

"Not yet: I said within me. But it must be close now."

They walked on happily.

After Colin had nobly stood up—literally and metaphorically—to Umbridge in the Great Hall at lunch, there was such a surge of happiness in the school that the mental energy had to be released physically. There were lively games all afternoon. Euan played on and off for four hours.

At dinner, the pleasant word was that Colin was going to read them a story. Dennis Creevey was going to be there.

"That probably means he's a watchdog planted to stop us snuggling in with you and Colin, Bell," said James.

"Whatever Colin says, goes," said Alexander.

That evening, the first-years were like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the time that they should be sent to bed. Then the game was afoot, and they followed their spirits, charging up the stairs

"Friends for Colin, Hogwarts, and Gryffindor," shouted James to rousing cheers.

Clothes were discarded and Pyjamas donned in record time.

Dennis made himself comfortable, fully clothed, on a collection of cushions at the foot of Alexander's bed."

Then there was absolute blackness.

After a false start or two, Colin started reading.

It was another terrifying ghost story, and Euan shuddered in delight as the tale of the weird picture unfolded.

In his sleepy state, it seemed part of the story when a ghostly voice whispered in his ear: It's so cold here . . .

Then he realised it was Dennis.

"Get in," he whispered.

Dennis got into Euan's bed, and hugged him tightly. To his surprise, as Euan hugged him back, he discovered that Dennis was naked. Surprise turned to interest, and Euan lowered his hands to feel Dennis's bottom.

It was amazing: so smooth; so curvy; so muscly; so yielding; perfectly positioned at the base of the bony back, and the top of the narrow, little-boy's thighs.

He had never felt a naked bottom before.

He stroked Dennis softly, then pressed more firmly and rubbed him. He closed his hand in a squeeze. It still felt so good.

All the time, he was listening to the story. It was another good story. He hoped that Colin and Alexander were doing what he and Dennis were doing.

Then Dennis softly kissed him: on the forehead, on the lips, on the nose and on the lips again.

He felt so dreamy: full of love, comradeship and empathy for every boy in the room.

Dennis kissed him again, pushing their lips together more tightly. Euan licked Dennis's lips to show him how welcome his loving actions were. Dennis poked his tongue out.

Then, when their tongues touched, Euan's middle started to jerk. It wasn't just the spiritual values that mattered now: Euan was full of lust.

"Are you hot?" whispered Dennis.

"No, this is absolutely incredible," he said "Oh . . . er . . ."

The intent behind Dennis's question dawned on him. Both boys giggled as he writhed about the bed, taking off his pyjamas.

Then it was back to business, and deep, loving, lustful, sexy kissing.

Dennis reached down and wrapped his hands around Euan's winkle.

Things were simply getting better and better.

He felt Dennis's winkle. It was as hard as Euan's, but much bigger. The skin was even smoother than Dennis's bottom.

They began to wank each other—ever so gently, as they weren't lubricated: neither boy seemed willing to break off their steamy, romantic kiss.

He felt so happy. He was having sex with Dennis Creevey, while their naked bodies pressed together. He could smell Dennis's sweat and hear his little groans.

Both boys were coming. They were both Screamers, and they instinctively forced their lips together to suppress the sounds. Even so, as the world seemed to spin upside down, and back again, he squeaked, and so did Dennis.

He was aware of Colin's voice saying: Er . . . Sorry lads; I lost the place and knew that Colin had come at the same time. It seemed to bind everyone together more deeply.

He lay in Dennis's protective arms and knew that if he ever got to Heaven, he couldn't be happier than tonight. They were feeling each other's bottoms again. Dennis's finger was resting against his arsehole. He wanted Dennis to take his virginity—not tonight: they should be fully awake and there should be bright light.

As it was, he was sleepy . . .

. . .But almost immediately wide awake. Dennis was dreamily wanking him again, and Euan was screaming and screaming.

"Shut up, Abercrombie!" said James.

Immediately, Euan was out of bed and creeping over the room. He climbed on top of James and gave him a goodnight kiss—not the usual insipid version, but a full-blooded Creevey special. "I love you, Carter," he whispered before running back to his warm bed where Dennis's arms and legs were waiting to clasp him.

"Goodnight Darling Euan," whispered Dennis, "Sweet dreams."

"I'm in the middle of one, Darling Dennis."

9

It was Sunday morning.

After all the excitements and exertions of the day before, you could have predicted a getting-up time of eleven o'clock.

But boys have an autonomic process in their brains that recognises the presence of something attractive, and the lure of the Hogwarts Sunday breakfast got them stirring before half past eight.

Bodies turned, limbs were stretched and eyes rubbed open. But the slow surfacing to full consciousness became instantaneous when a loud AAARRRRGH! seemed to vibrate the whole room.

It was Dennis Creevey.

"I got in the wrong bed!" he shouted, "I'm sorry Paul; I meant to spend the night with you!"

"You did get into Smith's bed," said Peter Jones, "And he booted you as far as Abercrombie."

"And Dennis booted out Abercrombie, who landed on me and practically raped me," said James, ". . . Like this."

He ran across the room and jumped on top of Euan, who was still trapped beneath the bedding. He gave him an extravagantly wet snog, licking all over his face. Dennis had to be in on this, and pushed his own face into the action .

Peter and Paul jumped out of their beds to join in, but were diverted by the opening of Alexander's bed-curtains to reveal the two occupants sitting one each side of the bed.

For five minutes, the room was a chaos of seven giggling boys—four naked, and three pyjama'd—trying to kiss each other as wetly as possible. Then things quietened down, and they started to dress—but not before Euan had seen that every boy had grown an erection. He had classed Dennis's penis as huge, but now he saw Colin's—fatter, and an inch or more longer. It was impressive. Danny had said in JIGS that size was really only important in fantasy, but on the whole, Euan would like a big one when he grew up, and he was happy that Colin had such a whopper.

They had a lovely breakfast, and a lovely day; but Dark Forces were at work within Hogwarts, and the forces were called Exams.

Students from every year, whatever their record of slacking and failing termwork, had to pass the exams.

Fun and games, flirting, sex, general enjoyment of life: they were all suspended before the great and terrible threat. Even Sea Jay and Jonny—the most romantic couple that Euan had ever met, were said to be sleeping in their own beds.

There was some relief on the Saturday of Gryffindor winning the Quidditch, and doing the Weasley dance; but the lovely summer weather was blighted by the need to remember fact after fact.

Euan spent most of his spare time revising with Jackie Whitbread. So far, during his first year at Hogwarts, he had avoided having a girlfriend—or boyfriend—because he had too much love in his soul to give all his time to a single person.

Now, spending so many hours with Jackie, he found that, by a sort of drip, drip, drip process, they had become an item, as Tintin put it.

They might be friends, but the most important thing at present was that they well-suited for mutual revision-support.

Just occasionally, Euan's mind drifted, and his thoughts focussed on Jackie's body. Underneath her clothes, she had a little mound and a slit. Were all fannies different, like all penises? He could see the link between sex and violence as he thought of Andrew Satchwell's You bang her and bang her and bang her as hard as you can, and as deep as you can.

Sometimes his winkle got so hard that he had to go into the toilet and wank the hardness away. On three occasions, Dennis Creevey, similarly burdened, but much less stressed—could you use the words Stress and Dennis in the same sentence?—had gone into a cubicle with him, and they had kissed while wanking each other off. Each time, they had peered hopefully to see if Dennis had managed to fire poofy spunk; so far without success, though Dennis said that he knew it was very near.

Like all exams that have been properly revised for, the first year exams proved as easy as smiling; but there was no sudden relief: the professors started teaching new stuff, and setting nasty homework.

"It's like these bloody Russian dolls," said Dennis, as they lounged with a dozen girls, by the lake, on the Saturday after the exams, "You think you've got rid of it, and another one's there underneath."

"I'll take your word for it," laughed Euan, "And I'll also take this month's Boy Sorcerer if I can." Euan and Dennis were suckers for wizarding story-papers.

"Trevor's got it," said Dennis. Trevor Rann was a Hufflepuff second-year. He was a real rustic, with a bullock's face, manner and intellect. He sometimes brought his Muggle farm animals over to merge with Dennis's larger set.

"Let's go and play with your farm now," said Euan.

"It's nice here," said Jackie.

"And it won't go away," said Dennis.

"Oh, the agony of falling for a cheeky monkey!" said Mandy Brocklehurst.

The two boys kissed their girlfriends and set off for the Castle.

"Dennis, I'd like a favour," said Euan.

"Being lovely, lovely Euan Abercrombie is the biggest favour that any boy got," said Dennis.

"Shut your face. Listen. It's time I lost my virginity."

"You're offering me the second biggest favour that any boy got,"

"How about tonight?"

"Or how about—you know Adam and James are going to Denmark to get hitched?"

"Yeah. They're sweet. I love them."

"I've been invited."

"That's brilliant."

"The invitation says And Partner. What about it? Couldn't get more romantic than that."

"Oh Dennis! Yes please. It'll be like our own mini-honeymoon—except not for life."

"Friends for life, though."

"Let's have a wank to celebrate."

They had their wank, and played with the farm. After dinner, they went back to the second-year dormitory and the farm. They were joined by Chris Gillies, who Euan should have hated because his best friend, Jimmy Peakes, was making strong approaches to Jackie.

But Euan liked Chris, Jimmy, and Jackie. It would all sort itself out; and if it didn't, who cared?

At Euan's bed-time, he and Dennis went downstairs to listen to another story—two stories tonight—from Colin, and cling together in naked bliss.

Last thing before they went to sleep, Euan whispered to Dennis: "I'm quite interested in jumping the gun. Maybe Saturday . . ."

Life was good. Never mind the schoolwork and horrible Umbridge: Euan was a happy boy, surrounded by happy people and soon to see his family.

But on the Thursday morning, the news came that Professor McGonagall was in St Mungo's. Her replacement, Professor Harrower looked as though she wouldn't take cheek or prisoners.

By the evening, things had got really weird: Harry Potter and five friends had vanished; which was very worrying, given the panic about You-Know-Who. In addition, Umbridge had vanished—forever, if there was such a thing as Justice.

It was unsettling, and a bit frightening. Unsurprisingly, the three regulars slept together; and unusually, James and Alexander shared a bed. This was in defiance of Professor Harrower's zero-tolerance policy.

The next morning, there was no news; but at lunchtime, Professor Dumbledore was there, relating the amazing fact that Harry and his friends had defeated Voldemort (again). And they were all safe, thank goodness.

That evening, Harrower's rules still held: the prefects were very strict about bed-times (on the dot) and bed-sharing (totally forbidden).

Euan was sleeping deeply when he was awoken by having his shoulder shaken vigorously.

"Dennis?" he mumbled.

"No, it's Alexander," came the whisper, "I'm going to Colin's dorm. You said you thought Dennis was going to be there, so do you want to come?"

Euan put on his dressing-gown immediately, and the two boys crept, holding hands, up three floors.

They knocked, but there was no answer.

"We'd better wait," said Euan.

They slumped against the door, embracing each other, with Euan's head on Alexander's breast.

Then Colin Creevey and Chris Gillies, of all people, turned up. Colin let them in, and they found five people, including Dennis, on Colin's bed.

They set off to spend a night in Harry's dorm, but were intercepted by the three remaining first-years, coming to look for their friends; then by Lee Jordan.

They ended up in the third-year dormitory—Danny's Dorm, it was still called.

It seemed that Years One to Five—plus Jordan from Year Seven—had made it a point of honour to defy Harrower and her watchdog, Towler.

Barry Elliott, a big, likeable, heave-ho-me-hearties sort of boy took charge. All fourteen boys had to strip naked so that they could have a game of Bumsie in the Dark. This involved crawling up and down the stairs and side-rooms, and identifying people by sniffing their arseholes.

Euan decided that his nose wasn't going to get within a foot of anyone's hole.

"Don't try and look for us," whispered Dennis to Euan, "Me and Col owe Gils one."

Euan passed on the bad news to Alexander. They agreed to stick together and avoid arsehole-sniffing; but then decided that playing while using remote sniffing would be more fun—Barry had said that anyone who didn't fancy sniffing bums, could keep his nose a yard away, and still have a chance with a lucky guess.

The fourteen boys crept one-by-one out of the dormitory. The staircase was totally black. It was deliciously creepy: total silence, except for suggestive, frightening rustlings.

Euan remembered Hide and Seek with Luke. That had been the same sort of thing, but this was more fun: thirteen silent menaces, ranging over a big area. It was a great game, and you didn't really need sniffing to enjoy it.

He heard calls from below: Bum! . . . David! . . . Loser! . . . Loser! . . . Cock! . . . Loser! . . .

There were more calls. Then somebody brushed him. What did you have to say? Bum! Too late. He adopted the position of Mooner. And now the other side of the game worried him: when had he last had a shower? Days—weeks, even. Had he wiped himself properly after poo-poo? No: he never wiped himself properly; he was too lazy, and there were better ways to spend his time. Still, they might not guess it was him.

Whoever it was, was kissing his bottom: slowly, methodically covering each half with kisses. This was spinning it out. Was it within the rules?

He felt his cheeks being pulled apart, and someone's face pressing down. Don't get too close he prayed, but the nose was butted hard against his arsehole, and the unknown boy took a deep sniff; then another; then more and more. How could he bear it?

He decided that the Sniffer was a little boy. Paul? Surely not: he could have done this on dozens of occasions. Gillies? He was doing things with the Creeveys. Could someone be pretending to be a little boy?

Then things got even weirder: the little boy licked his hole; and carried on licking. Euan had heard all about rimming at JIGS—had even seen it demonstrated at the Christmas Treat. But that someone should want to rim the filthy arsehole of an unknown boy was beyond comprehension.

He realised that he was giggling, which meant he wasn't unknown anymore.

The little boy started pressing his tongue hard against his hole. Good Heavens! He was trying to stick it in. To think that he used to wonder how gays could bear to get poo on their winkle.

And yet he was enjoying it. His winkle told him that it needed rubbing urgently.

Relax those muscles, Euan, darling came the whisper. He forced himself to relax as if he were on the toilet.

He recognised the voice: it was Nick White! Sweet, innocent little Nick, whom he had often snuggled against in the common room, was doing these disgusting things.

He had to wank himself: the inside of his arsehole was being tongued by pretty Nick White; Nick's sweet little hands were pulling his bum cheeks apart; Nick's sweet little mouth was doing the filthiest thing that a mouth could do.

He felt himself coming. Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Oh! . . .

Everyone must know what was going on, but he didn't care: he was coming with another boy; and even though it wasn't Dennis, and it wasn't Dennis's hand, it was still the best possible feeling you can have—at least until fannies came on the scene.

Nick's tongue was wiggling, but there was another vibration: Nick was having a wank too.

After some time, Nick stopped moving, and raised himself. "I always knew you were special, EUAN!" he said.

Euan was out the game. He moved to give Nick a goodbye kiss, but stopped himself, thinking I'm not kissing where that's been. Instead, he gave Nick a peck on the bum to show him he still respected him and to be faithful to the ideals of Danny Jorrocks, who had said: It's easy to be all liberal about gays walking down the street or sitting having a pumpkin juice together, but to be open-minded about a practice you find revolting is more difficult.

He walked into the dormitory thinking: Bless Danny; Bless Nick; Bless the World.

Nick was not in the dormitory, of course, but James and Paul were lounging on one of the beds. He snuggled up to them, and promptly fell asleep.

He woke up in a different bed, but still a strange bed. It was slightly larger than standard, and he remembered that Danny had taught the third-years how to re-size a bed to fit the occupants.

He took in his surroundings and companions. He and dirty Nicholas White were cuddling at one end of the bed; James and Paul were at the other.

James's foot was near Euan's head. He tickled it, and James squealed and jumped, waking them all up, and sending them down to breakfast, where there was a lot of winking and giggling among the boys, and puzzled looks among the girls.

Euan cornered Nick later, by the big beech tree, and asked him: "Do you often do that sort of thing with unknown boys?"

"I do it often with known boys. You don't spend two and a half years with Danny Jorrocks without learning that you can get harmless pleasure doing all sorts of things."

"I don't get it. It seems dirty."

"You're still young," said the fourteen-year-old man-of-the-world, "You'll find out. Anyway, you weren't an unknown."

"I could have been any one of fourteen."

"Not at all: I stalked you."

"Stalked?"

"Yeah, I followed you out the dorm."

"Why?"

"I told you last night: I always knew you were special. So when I got the chance to get to know you—one nice bit of you, anyway—I took it."

"That bit of me was certainly special last night," giggled Euan, "I'm sorry I was such a mess."

"Don't be sorry. I loved it."

"I don't get it, but I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Do you want to try and get it? Today is the ideal opportunity: Tomorrow's Sunday; and Sunday morning is shower day for Danny's boys."

"Not today, Nick. I might be doing something special tonight."

"Hope you enjoy it. Give us a kiss."

"Eh? Oh, Yeah."

They walked round the lake and up the bank, to a flat bit, fairly well concealed by greenery.

"Oops, sorry!" said Nick.

The two big boys who had been engaged in a sixty-nine, sprang apart looking terrified.

"Didn't see a thing," said Nick, "Though you ought to have a third boy as lookout."

Euan and Nick went to find somewhere else.

"They were Slytherins, weren't they?" said Euan.

"Yeah; Darkham and Taylor; fourth-years."

"Can't they do it in Slytherin Basement?"

"They get a lot of stick if they're found out; unless they're a star like Pucey; or a show-off like Harper. Come to think of it, they could have used Harper as a lookout."

"Maybe they're keeping it secret from him."

"And maybe they wanted to be alone, and knew Harper couldn't have stopped himself from joining in."

They found their own quiet spot, and were soon locked in a lying-down kiss. Passions became inflamed, and they wanked each other off. Nick was a year older than Dennis, but in exactly the same position: right on the cusp of the big change.

"Thanks, Nick; that was nice," panted Euan.

"Thanks, Euan; that was nice," laughed Nick.

"It was also silly in the way that all sex is silly, but not as silly as kissing people's arseholes. I don't see the point."

"There's no point: it's just another way of being friends."

"You know when we're old and married, Nick," said Euan, "Will we look back and say we were totally silly?"

"No, we'll sit together with our friends—perhaps you and me—and say it was wonderful while it lasted, and then we grew up; and we'll never forgot the good times, and the lessons we learned; and one day we'll die."

"And then, who knows?"

"Which is all any human being can hope for."

"So every second of good times should be used."

"Yeah. Even when it's just letting your dirty bumhole be licked by a naughty boy."

"Being naughty is fun, isn't it Nick?"

"Yes, my dear friend."

They kissed and cuddled again, before returning to their other friends.

Euan found Dennis, and told him: "Tonight. Definitely tonight, please, darling Den. As often as possible."

But it was not to be: that night became infamous as the night the temporary Head of Gryffindor drugged her pupils so that she could set Harry Potter up.

And worse: on Sunday the Headmaster announced that access to any dormitory but your own was magically cut off. So that was that for the term, as far as Euan was concerned.

There was one last highlight: a party of gays, or friends of gays, that doubled as Adam's stag do and Pucey the Slytherin Gay Champion's farewell.

There was dancing and snogging and total happiness everywhere. Euan had discovered a family in Hogwarts, and the gay boys were a family within a family.

In the common room, Euan and Dennis snuggled together, and so did Colin and Alexander.

Euan might be only twelve, but he had a clear perception of the differences between the pairs: Euan and Dennis loved each other; Colin and Alexander were in love. Euan and Dennis would always be friends, and their children would be friends, and maybe more; Colin and Alexander would be everything to each other forever.

"I've got something to tell you," whispered Dennis.

"Oh no! You're not calling it off, you little Tove's arse?"

"No, I'm giving you an extra-special bonus blessing."

"What?"

"I can come."

"Sweet. Will I have a baby?"

"Yes, I'll be your baby."

They nuzzled each other lovingly. It was long past bedtime.

Towler was hiding away. He was embarrassed because a photo of him lying prone with a daffodil up his arse was in circulation.

The other prefects were busying themselves with their love-lives, except for Weasley and Grainger, who chivied the first-years off to bed at half past ten.

Then it was the Hogwarts Express.

Euan sat with Jackie Whitbread. James was in the compartment with Gerda.

At the barrier, Euan introduced Jackie to Iona, Mark and Baby Staffa.

The two families nodded to each other. Jackie's parents looked rich. That would have pleased Lucrezia, thought Euan.

"Long summer ahead, darling," said Iona, "A holiday; a wedding; what else have you got planned?"

"Lots of bonding," said Euan, taking Staffa in his arms.

10

The first day of the holidays was Heaven.

Euan got up late, made his own breakfast, and pottered with his toys.

He was not a deep-thinker, and not much of a reader, apart from comics and lurid serials; but he loved looking at people, places and things.

Now, after having possessed Courage for a year, he tackled what he'd always chickened out of before: the exploration of London.

He started at Kensington Gardens, forever sacred to the memory of a great wizard, his five beloved boys, and his magical hound.

Thence, he proceeded through Bayswater, where the eel-charming wizards were hard at work on the River Westbourne, with the oblivious Muggles swarming around them.

At the railway station, he had an eel pie and a couple of Megamistletoe Tonics, before Flooing home.

Next day, Iona agreed that Staffa could stay at home for the day, with the proviso that Mrs Tofty, the nice rich lady who lived upstairs, should call in to check that everything was okay.

Uncle and Nephew played happily for a couple of hours, before the bell rang and Euan let in Mrs Tofty.

"Toffee!" shouted Staffa—this being the best pronunciation of her name that he could manage; and, coincidentally, the name of a commodity which she always carried in her pocket.

Far from being a quick check by a responsible elder, the visit turned into an epic three-way session with wizard and Muggle toys.

They decided to have a breath of fresh air. Euan put Staffa in the push-chair and manoeuvred it down the stairs. The three of them set off for the Gardens. Mrs Tofty was dumpy, but could bustle along at a great pace.

Wizards and Witches love the works of the Muggles Laurel and Hardy; but funnier than the entire canon of films was the edifice called by Muggles the Albert Memorial.

A famous trial for youngsters was for them to exhibit Emotional Control by not laughing at it.

Euan tried Staffa on the trial. "Don't laugh," he told him, and the baby obediently straightened his face.

But when the great lump came into view, the poor little mite didn't have a chance. All three of them failed the Memorable Trial.

Euan, Staffa and Staffa's face shared an ice cream, as they went to pay homage to Peter Pan.

"Dance!" said Staffa, pointing at an old oak stump.

This was called the Elfin Oak, a bit of Muggle kitsch with the Muggle notion of magical creatures carved on the stump. The problem was that hundreds of real magical creatures took to congregating there, swarming over the stump, and indulging in extreme lewdness, while shouting at the Muggles, who fortunately, couldn't hear or see them.

Permanent Hexes and Repellent charms sorted them out, but, sometimes, one or two creatures got through.

Today, a real Fairy was pleasuring herself, astride the pointed hat of a wooden elf. A real gnome was pissing over both of them.

"Oh look! A plain plane tree!" said Mrs Tofty, pointing in the opposite direction.

They looked at the trees and flowers before going to the boating lake, which Euan had expected to be deserted, as it was still term-time for Muggles; but Andie Lockie and Gene Fulton, two Ravenclaws who shared lessons with Euan, were racing beautiful Cornish-built model yachts—you mustn't call them toy yachts.

They stopped to chat.

"They're going quite fast into the breeze," said Euan, "Are you sure you're not using your brains too much?"

Gene—short and dark—laughed: "Too much is when you get done for Underage Magic. We know how far we can push it."

Staffa was ready for a nap, so they went home. Mrs Tofty had forty winks too. She was still slumped in the chair when the door-bell rang, and woke up to find her husband sitting opposite her.

"Good afternoon, m'dear," she said, "Good day at work?"

"Yes, m'dear, given that marking examinations is the most agonisedly conscience-grinding activity that any human being inflicted on his fellows."

"I'm sure you were humane while upholding standards. Have you been here long?"

"Ten minutes. I was talking to Euan about his first year at Hogwarts. He's in Gryffindor—like those boys who gave that Harrower person her comeuppance."

"Oh, the Creevey brothers. Do you know them well, Euan?"

"Oh yes, Miss," said Euan, "Specially Dennis—he's only a year older, and we play with his farm set."

"And how are your academic studies going, Euan?" asked Professor Tofty.

There was a rather boring interlude—soon truncated, thank goodness, by the shouts of Staffa, shortly followed by Iona's arrival in the fireplace by the front door of the block.

Next day was Saturday—an important day, as Euan and Jackie were going to meet in Diagon Alley and have a look round.

He showered, and anointed himself with several totally unnecessary Muggle unguents.

He Flooed to the Alley, and was standing outside the Apothecary fifteen minutes early.

Then She came . . . and her father was with her.

Mr Whitbread was a very pleasant man—especially as he was a plutocrat—one of the filthy rich, as Matthew Hinton would say. Nevertheless he was still a gooseberry—a double-wanded, copper-bottomed, five-star gooseberry.

He told Euan that, in the current dysfunctional and predatory climate, he could not allow his daughter to wander about on her own—even in broad daylight.

He was prepared to allow her an hour in the Alley, which was, Euan noticed for the first time, unusually quiet for a Saturday. You-Know-Who's return to action, he supposed.

They wasted some time at Quality Quidditch Supplies, in which neither of the youngsters was interested. Then they wasted some more time at Madame Malkin's, in which neither of the males was interested.

Mr Whitbread bought them an ice cream, and they sat outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, making desultory conversation, while Euan's eyes strayed longingly at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Mr Whitbread was saying something about welfare-dependency and a something-for-nothing culture, when Euan saw Danny Jorrocks, his old JIGS-Master coming out of the Weasleys' shop. This was a surprise as Euan had heard that Danny lived at his parents' place in Russia.

His first impulse was to hail Danny and have a kiss, cuddle and catch-up; but a Jigger reunion seemed an inadvisable gambit during your first meeting with your girlfriend's father.

Also, he had a feeling that Danny himself was on some sort of mission. At Hogwarts, he had always been neutral—even being a friend of Malfoy, whose father was now in Azkaban. But no-one who knew Danny well could believe that he was in the least bit in favour of You-Know-Who and the Dark Arts.

Danny passed along the Alley, leaving Euan nursing a raging erection, and listening to Mr Whitbread: "I always tell Jacqueline that it's Motivation, Self-belief, Hard Work, and Thorough Planning that make the difference."

Euan spent the rest of the hour trying to look like a difference-making young executive.

When it was time to go, he saw the Whitbreads to the Floo in the Leaky Cauldron. He and Jackie shook hands, a kiss seeming off the menu—despite Mr Whitbread having mentioned that a good Entrepreneur was prepared to Take Risks.

He clocked on with Fred and George, and spent a pleasant half hour inspecting the Weasley stock.

On leaving, he had an impulse, and turned down Knockturn Alley. It couldn't be that dangerous in daylight.

He looked in the unpleasant shop-windows and peeped at the people, avoiding eye-contact.

Then, an ordinary-looking man approached him and remarked cheerfully: "Hello, young man! I think you and I can do business."

"Er, can we?" said Euan.

"What it is—Oh, my name's Mr Gleave; what's yours?"

"Ian Wilson, Sir."

"Well Ian, I'm keen to brew a harmless potion—just a little something to put in my breakfast coffee and see me through the day—I work a twelve-hour day caring for pensioners and handicapped people. And the rest of the time I'm doing spiritual research. I'm currently working on a paper for the International Federation of Unaligned Charity Kabbalahs (Benevolent Organisations' Yearbook Supplement)."

"I wouldn't know how to help you, Sir."

"Well, this potion—it's approved by the Ministry; and St Mungo's—requires Smegma Oil from a virgin boy."

Euan didn't have a clue what Smegma Oil was, but he had an easy get-out: "I'm not a virgin, Sir," he said.

"Ah, what a pity," said Mr Gleave, "But then you know what's what; so maybe we can do another sort of business."

"What sort, Sir?"

"I'll give you ten Galleons; and I'll make it fifteen if your arsehole's tight—but it's got to be really tight—I've had quite enough of those rent boys with arseholes like an overgrown Troll's."

"No thanks, Sir. I've gotta go now."

Euan made to leave, but the man gripped his arm tightly. His other hand reached into his robe. Euan was going to be Confunded and raped. So much for his romantic mini-honeymoon with Dennis.

The thing to do was to shout as loudly as possible.

His mind formed the words: Help! . . . Help! . . . Help!

But his lips formed: "Houlihan! . . . Houlihan! . . . Houlihan!"

The man glanced round and saw Houlihan with his fat, angry-looking mother standing and staring. He ran towards the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Euan expected him to Disapparate, but he carried on running until he had rounded the corner.

Mrs Houlihan strode up to Euan with a fierce expression on her face. Her wand was in her hand.

You wouldn't want to meet her in a dark alley, thought Euan, and had to suppress a giggle.

"What's going on?" she shouted, "Who are you?"

"Euan Abercrombie, Miss. That man was attacking me and I saw Houlihan, so I shouted for help."

"Do you know this boy, Anthony?" she asked. She pronounced the th as in thorn.

"Never seen him before in my life," said Houlihan. He had a pure, English, upper-class accent."

"Who sent you?" said his mother, raising her wand.

Then a look of fear came into her face, and she looked all round.

"Who's with you?" she asked.

"Nobody," said Euan, "I'm by myself, honestly."

"So how do you know my son's name?"

"We were at Toolse Heath Avenue."

"Is that true Anthony?"

"Never seen him before in my life," said Houlihan.

"I only did Year Six," said Euan, "I saw you at Sports Day. I thought you must be a wizard when that boy tripped and you won the race."

Out of nowhere, the big woman produced an almighty slap, telling her son, as he tumbled to the floor: "You don't control your mind and our enemies get us!"

Euan's Gryffindor Courage arrived. "That's not fair," he said, "It was over a year ago."

"Let's get out of here," said Anthony, rising to his feet, "You've got the stuff, and everyone's staring at us."

The wisdom of this suggestion was apparent to both Mrs Houlihan and Euan. They walked smartly into Diagon Alley.

"Are you going to Hogwarts this year, Houlihan?" asked Euan.

"Yes," said Anthony, "We're getting me measured for robes and stuff."

"How's your father?" Euan remembered that Mr Houlihan had been King, or President, or something of Bongo-bongo Land.

"Why do you want to know?" asked Mrs Houlihan. She seemed a dreadfully suspicious woman.

"Just politeness," said Euan, "Thanks very much for rescuing me. I've got to go and talk to Fred and George. Goodbye."

He went back into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Can't keep you away with a shitty stick," said one of the twins.

Euan did some more browsing before Flooing home, where he told Iona and Mark about Mr Whitbread and the Houlihans, but not about Mr Gleave, as they would have been horrified to learn that Euan had ventured unprotected into Knockturn Alley—his first and last visit, for certain.

They had a week at the seaside with the Satchwells again. Andrew was absent as he was going away with his girlfriend's family—not the girl who'd sprogged his daughter, but another one who Peter called (not to Andrew's face) the Banbury Bicycle.

"Even I've done her," said Pete.

"Even I've done her," said seven-year-old Timmy.

"Even I've done her," said Euan, and they all giggled noisily.

In Andrew's day this would inevitably have led to a wrestle, but Peter and Timmy were much less physical, though as friendly to Euan as ever.

Lisa had grown, and looked almost womanly, but minus any sign of the inevitably approaching breast. Nevertheless, Euan would have enjoyed feeling and kissing her chest.

She was good with a body-board, as was little Timmy. Euan and Peter spurred each other towards competence on beginners' surf-boards.

Euan took an interest in the bathing-costumes of Lisa and Peter, showing two fascinating bumps of different shapes.

As ever, Euan was full of hugs and pecks for everyone, but it was not until the third night that he and Lisa managed to slip away for a proper snog. Lisa unzipped her jeans and pulled Euan's hand downwards. At last he got to feel the magnetic slit. He just had time to wiggle a finger inside the flaps before Timmy's voice called: "Euan! Lisa! Where are you? What are you doing?"

And that was the end of Euan's sex-life for the holidays. Apart from, the time-restrictions, there were several older, more glamorous, boys sniffing around Lisa.

The next evening, however, had a bit of gay colouring: there was a dark, rough, sly-looking boy, the same age as Euan, but bigger, who sold ice creams during the day, and collected glasses in the Clubhouse in the evenings.

Euan had been playing table-football and went for a piss. When he came out, the dark boy was waiting, and said: "Come and see something, Euan."

He had a strong Cornish twang, which Euan found pleasant.

"How do you know my name?"

"I aint no fool be'ind the door. People call you Euan, so that's your name. Now, don' make a shine; come outside an' see what I got to show yer. My name's Gareth."

Euan had no hesitation in following the boy: to be honest, the holiday was getting a bit sameish.

Gareth led him to a space between the hotel bit of the Club and the garages. He pulled out his winkle.

Without saying a word, Euan pulled his own out, and the boys examined each other's. Then they started having feels. Gareth's was as stiff as Euan's but quite a lot bigger.

"Gonna give us a bit of bum?" whispered Gareth.

"No thanks," said Euan.

"Go on. You'll love it. I did it to a boy from Up Country, an' 'e loved it."

"No thanks, all the same."

"Gonna give us just a feel of your bum then? You got a really magic bum."

Euan laughed. "It's more magic than you think," he said.

"Whatyer mean by that?" asked Gareth.

"Nothing. Just something to say."

"Something about magic?"

"Ever heard of Muggles?"

Gareth moved his hand from Euan's winkle to shake his hand. "You're a wizard!" he said, "Do you go to Hogwarts? I'm going there in September."

"I'm in the second year."

"Do boys have fun there."

"Not half."

" 'Ow 'bout giving us a bit of bum then? One wizard to another."

"No. I've got to go; they'll be missing me."

He gave Gareth a kiss, causing the boy to jump backwards, saying: "Whatyer doing?"

Euan went inside chuckling: if Gareth was as gay as he seemed, he had a bit of learning to do.

That evening, the boys were getting ready for bed in their room in the Cabin. They slept in their underpants.

"Pete's got the horn!" said Timmy, "Show Euan your cock, Pete."

Peter's cock was something like Dennis's.

Euan walked over and felt it. Pete had had plenty of time to cover up, so he must be okay with it.

Euan kicked off his underpants, and the other two, without hesitation, followed his example.

The three boys stood in a circle, giving each other comprehensive gropes. Peter's genitals were shipshape, as Mr Satchwell might have said: a perfect medium-sized winkle; perfectly centred, and at a precise forty-five degrees. A neat little patch of attractive, dark blonde pubic hair; a silky sack holding two big, but not out-of-scale, balls.

Peter got excited, and started to masturbate.

Euan resisted: when he wasn't in a magical area, where he could muffle his screaming, he restricted his wanks to the showers. Besides, if he wanked now, he might not be able to resist kissing Peter, and he knew that kisses—or even cuddles—would be considered unacceptably gay.

With just a tiny groan, Peter produced his tiny splash on the floor.

"Have you seen that before?" asked Timmy.

"No," said Euan, diplomatically.

"Have a smell," said Timmy.

Euan picked up some spunk on his finger, and gave a polite Ugh!

Euan and Peter made motions to collect their underpants, but Timmy wasn't finished: "Let's look at each other's bumholes!" he said.

"No, Timmy!" said Peter, "I've told you: that's dirty."

Euan laughed: "Me and Pete have seen your bumhole hundreds of times; we've wiped it too."

"I can't remember that far back; and I've never seen yours," said Timmy, "It's not fair."

"Shut up, Timmy!" said Peter, "You're acting gay."

"I'm not gay!" said Timmy, indignantly.

If you're not now, you probably soon will be thought Euan.

On their last evening, they were allowed a drink or two, but Peter overdid it, supplementing his intake by pirating the drinks of people who were absent dancing or pissing.

At ten o'clock, they took Timmy to bed in the chalet and went to say goodbye to the town of Newquay.

They felt very adult as they wandered the streets among the happy, boisterous young people. Underlying the happiness were little whispers of aggression, which Euan had never detected in wizard gatherings. Perhaps aggression was needed for human survival; but it was surely not needed when you were relaxing in the middle of a herd of your fellows.

Peter did a little more piracy and, by the time he had staggered back with an arm around Euan, he was what Mr Satchwell would have described as listing to the scuppers. Euan led him to the cabin, where he listed on to his bed and started an immediate snore.

Euan decided to strip Pete and put him to bed properly. It would be fun—but not as much fun as if it had been Lisa lying at his mercy—no; needing his assistance. That was a better way of putting it.

But as he took Peter's shoes and socks off, a vision of Lisa, spreadeagled with her legs wide apart, and that beautiful fanny open to the world, came into his mind.

As he struggled with the tee-shirt, his winkle was hard, and seemed to get even harder as he pulled down Peter's bottoms.

Putting away the image of Lisa, and the thought that he could have Pete's arse, with Pete giving him a bit of bum without knowing it, Euan settled his friend on his right side—what the teacher at Toolse Heath Avenue had called the Recovery Position.

He was about to draw up the sheet when a thought struck: Nicholas White's just another way of being friends. Here was a chance to investigate, without anyone ever knowing.

He pulled Peter's underpants down, steeled himself (Gryffindor daring, nerve and chivalry), pushed his nose between the bumcheeks, and inhaled deeply.

It was an anticlimax: there was no smell at all. He tried again, pressing his nose hard against Peter's hole; but still nothing.

Bravely, he decided to try the taste test.

He gave the hole a light lick; and for a moment, he thought he'd struck a mysterious sort of gold. But it turned out to be salt—hardly surprising, considering Peter had spent much of the day in or on the sea. He licked again, and tried to push his tongue inside, just like Nick White.

There was no taste, but it still felt nice, enjoying the smooth, crinkly arsehole-rim passing over his tongue; it was good being naughty too.

He was having a lot of fun, with the tip of his tongue actually inside Peter, and the elastic flesh responding to every movement. He might have continued for ages had not an urgent whisper come through the near-darkness: "Whatyer doing?"

He jumped up, guiltily.

"Oh, you gave me a fright, Timmy!" he said, "I was just checking Pete."

"You were kissing his bumhole," came the accusing voice.

"I wasn't; I was looking to see if he'd pooed himself—he's very drunk."

"You were kissing his bumhole. I could see and hear you. And you were smelling it before."

Euan giggled. This was such a surreal conversation. He pulled up Peter's pants and tucked him in, telling Timmy: "You were dreaming."

"I wasn't. It's not fair. You play with Pete's bumhole and you won't even let me see yours."

"You can see mine now; but don't tell Pete or he'll think we're acting gay."

Timmy leapt out of bed and switched on the room-light.

Euan glanced at Peter, but it would take more than a bright light to wake him.

Timmy was behind Euan now; pulling down his clothes; parting his bumcheeks; bending to get a close view.

"It's dark," he said, and pushed Euan face-down onto his bed. He yanked his trainers off without undoing the laces; then socks, bottoms and pants. He parted Euan's cheeks again and presumably stared, because nothing happened for a long time.

It had been good fun, and a bit exotic, being stripped by a little boy, but the silence was eerie.

Euan was drifting into sleep.

At last, something happened: Euan felt Peter's face pressing against his arse. Peter gave a little sniff, before withdrawing. "Do you want to poo?" he asked.

"No," said Euan, taking this as a signal that proceedings had terminated, and getting into his bed.

Timmy returned to his own bed.

"Night-night, Euan."

"Night-night, Timmy."

But Timmy was still curious: after thirty seconds, he pattered over to Euan's bed and squatted, sitting on Euan's face.

"Show me how you kissed Pete," he said.

So Euan put up his mouth and savorously kissed Timmy, his eyes and tongue drooping. Then he pushed him off, murmuring: "Sleepy."

Next morning, Peter was crapulous, Lisa near to tears, and Timmy jealous of any attention that Euan gave to the other two.

It was on a rather downbeat note then, that they waved goodbye to the Satchwells, prior to supposedly catching a coach.

In reality, they had their feet up in London before the Satchwells were out of the County.

"There's a lot to be said for the Floo," said Mark.

11

The day of Adam Watts' and James Poxon's wedding arrived.

Euan felt proud of his family: Iona and Paul always referred to it as a wedding, never a gay wedding.

The buses were lined up outside the Leaky Cauldron—Four full-size buses for the Adults and females; and, at the grooms' insistence, one luxury coach for the gay boys. It had a kitchen, toilet, Italian coffee-area, and thirty two seats—which the eight boys didn't use, preferring the lounge area at the rear.

The pairs of lovers—Sea Jay Harris and Jonny Neil; Peter Jones and Caerwen Morgan—sat together, whispering words of love.

Tintin Wilkes, fully coiffed and cosmeticised, sat in an extravagant dress, snuggling against Euan, and fluttering her eyes at Adrian Pucey, who was sitting opposite, talking in a man-to-man way with Derek Rath.

Danny Jorrocks and the Creeveys were coming from Russia because they had been on holiday there—or because, as Sea Jay suggested, they didn't dare the near-certainty of Dennis falling in if they travelled over water.

The driver, a Northerner called John Comer, set off, but stopped immediately, to a chorus of queries and cat-calls.

"I can't see anything with this ruddy aura of happiness," he said, and put on a pair of dark glasses before setting off again.

He drove them along the Muggle roads straight to Ipswich. It was a busy Saturday morning, but the traffic always pulled over—or even jerked sideways at a right angle—to let them through.

From Ipswich they drove to a little town called Aldeburgh, where they all stopped talking. All of them could sense an intensely deep spiritual atmosphere.

But Mr Comer didn't give them much chance to be spiritual: he set off across the North Sea at a nice speed.

There was less traffic here: a number of ugly tankers and container-ships; none of the wonderful dirty coasters and Grimsby smacks that appeared in the Muggle Studies textbook.

They crossed stretches of sea and land, arriving at the Municipal Magical Meeting-Place of the beautiful town of Odense in good time.

Adrian, Derek and Sea Jay dashed off to do the ushering.

Caerwen and Jonny had Chief Page duties; and Tintin was to be Chief Bridesmaid to both grooms.

Euan and Peter were simply spectators, and were ushered in to sit with the Creeveys.

"Alright, Euan?" whispered Dennis.

"Yeah."

"I'm terribly sorry, the hotel's had to put the two of us into one room."

"What a shame. We'll have to save space by squeezing together."

"Still up for it, then?"

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"It's just that . . . that cute little darkie is asking for it."

Euan pinched Dennis's bottom, and they had to fight hard not to sully the serious occasion with screams of laughter.

The boy in question was indeed a cute little darkie: about seventeen, with a mass of afro hair above a face that was of so light a brown that it was almost orange.

He had a girlfriend with him: a white girl: serious-looking in her spectacles, but very pretty.

They would probably be doing it in the hotel later that night. The darkie would be banging and banging real deep, as though stabbing her. His spunk would shoot inside her slit.

Euan got a raging erection, which must have been noticeable as everybody stood up.

He had already observed Adam's extra glamour in his gorgeous blue robe, but he was not expecting the radiant beauty displayed by James as he walked up the aisle, on Luna Lovegood's arm, and with Jonny and Tintin behind. Even James's Acne seemed a sort of celebratory decoration.

It was all so sweet, and Euan was mentally sharing clouds of joy with James when he saw the sweetest thing of all: Sea Jay had ushered himself to an aisle seat, and he and Jonny touched single finger-tips as the procession passed. Goodness, how these two were in love.

The procession reached the front, and the four boys in the second groom's party retreated to the back of the church.

"I bet Danny's had his thumb up Adam's bumhole all this time," whispered Dennis.

They managed to compose themselves in time to calmly observe Adam processing on Danny's arm, with Caerwen and Tintin behind.

The vast majority of the congregation would not have known that Adam had shagged Caerwen dozens and dozens of times over the last year. Caerwen was a nymphomaniac bumee, who couldn't get enough cock, as he put it.

But now, Caerwen was looking serious and dependable—not in the least sex-mad. Tintin was as beautiful as ever: you could almost hear the teeth grinding as all the pretty girls looked at him with envy. The sight of his ladylike progress stimulated another erection out of Euan. If only he had had a slit . . .

The ceremony was wonderful. Euan had a lump in his throat. He guessed the other boys were in the same case, but only Sea Jay and, surprisingly, Derek had their hankies out.

Afterwards, the most amazing and wonderful thing happened: Jonny proposed to Sea Jay, and the boys got married there and then.

Euan had known Jonny Neil for a year, and knew, as everyone knew, that, backing up Jonny's shrewd brain and love of Humour, Justice and Comradeship, was a deeply romantic character—centred on Sea Jay, but spilling over into an affectionate empathy with all his friends.

This gesture, though, really impressed Euan. It was grand, over-the-top romantic, and rooted in beautiful emotions; yet it was also practical: hall, officials and friends—even hotel bookings—were already sorted, and Jonny moved in as smoothly as a rapist presented with a chained, spreadeagled girl.

When they came out into the open air, all was confusion: the photographers were trying to pose all the Watts and Poxon relatives, while Watts-Poxon and Poxon-Watts themselves were, like the other boy-wizards, clustered around Sea Jay and Jonny.

At length, the photographers sorted everyone out, and took their photos—including, at Danny's insistence, a photo of the six first years: Euan, Peter, Alexander, Caerwen, Tintin and Brian; and a final photo of the seventeen boy-wizards.

At last they adjourned to the Grand Hall of the hotel, where the grooms—four of them—greeted the hundred and forty or so guests.

Euan and Peter Jones were lucky: not being members of the committee, so to speak, they didn't have to meet the innumerable relatives, and could make a bee-line for their old comrade Brian Hudson, who was holding hands with two delightful little boys—twins called Boris and Pavel Tishchenko.

Brian was always quiet, but the twins were unusually quiet. It was only later on that Euan came to realise that they were terrorised: they had lived in a world where a hundred people represented a hundred possible enemies; they had been taken by Danny and Brian into a safe world; now they were back in a reality which included an awful concentration of magical folk.

The drinks came round, and Brian needed a spare arm; so one of the twins latched on to Euan with a rather dirty hand.

"What you been doing, Brian?" asked Euan.

"Lessons, holiday."

"Are the lessons tougher than Hogwarts?"

"Yeah."

"What about you two?"

"The cat sat on the mat," said the little boy whose hand he was holding.

"The mat was sat on by the cat," said the other.

Euan gave up, and just clinked glasses with the three boys, and squeezed the hand that was available extra-hard.

Professor Dumbledore had talked about the importance of suitable circumstances and frequencies, so as not to cause irritation or offence. There was a general feeling that perhaps, at a gay wedding, some relaxation in decorum would be expected—might, indeed, be welcomed as a source of sophisticated stories at the dinner-table.

What the non-Hogwarts were not prepared for was the degree of physicality shown by the wizard-boys. Euan found that he had to plan his pisses ahead as a quick snog of every Hogwarts boy he passed on the way was necessary.

"Today it's Gay Saturnalia!" said a slightly sozzled Derek, as he hugged Euan, with one hand on his bottom.

There was happy singing and dancing, and even some of the apparently strait-laced adults had a sniff around Tintin, though that particular gayboy had eyes only for the saturnine Adrian.

Danny was widely knowledgeable about magical esoterica, so Euan drew him aside to ask him about Smegma Oil.

Danny was horrified: "Euan, that is Dark Magic! Don't even think about it!"

Euan told him about Mr Gleave.

"You had a lucky escape," said Danny, "That man would have collected your knob-cheese and extracted the oil as a constituent of Leaner Hotgames Potion."

"What's that?"

"A single drop enables a man to become irresistible to pre-pubescent boys."

"Sounds harmless."

"The thing is: the Potion only works while the donor-boy remains a virgin. And the best way to ensure that a boy remains a virgin is—"

"To kill him!" gasped Euan.

"Yes, and the longer you take doing it, the more powerful the potion becomes. The best way is to slowly starve the boy."

"So he's always getting leaner."

"Precisely. For God's sake, don't go to Knockturn again until your defences are much stronger."

"What a fool!"

"Not as big a fool as you would be if you didn't snog me immediately."

Euan obliged, letting Danny's experienced mouth take its toll. Danny's boyfriend, Brian Hudson, took over. His mouth tasted of beeswax and wildflower meadows.

When their two cute little Russian boys muscled in, Dennis called out: "Don't get in with that lot or you'll never get out alive."

Euan and Danny giggled at the gallows-irony of the remark.

At half past nine, Dennis came up to Euan and said: "Oh, I'm so tired!"

Euan made no reply, but took Dennis by the hand, and led him out the door, and up the stairs. They said goodnight to Peter and Caerwen, who were also going to bed.

They started to kiss as soon as they had got to their room, but broke off to kick off their clothes, lie on the bed, and resume the kiss.

Dennis stopped quite soon, and turned Euan onto his side. Euan thought to himself This is it! He was going to lose his virginity, and he was so happy that Dennis was going to do the dirty deed.

But Dennis was in no hurry. He nuzzled up behind Euan and kissed his neck.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Dreamy," said Euan, pushing back against Dennis.

"So do I, you gorgeous little creature."

Dennis moved down to kiss Euan's shoulder; then his back; then his buttocks—but always slowly.

Euan reached a hand behind him, and found one of Dennis' hands.

"Oh . . . Don't stop!" he said.

Dennis nudged his way between Euan's bumcheeks. He pushed his nose hard against Euan's bumhole and breathed in deeply. Then he deployed his tongue, driving Euan into ecstasy.

"Do it now, darling . . . Do it now!"

But Dennis was still in no hurry. He licked around the hole slowly, before pushing his tongue against the hole. At last, he broke inside: Euan had relaxed enough to let him in, but in the course of relaxing, let slip a fart.

"Oh . . . sorry!" he said, expecting Dennis to back off.

Dennis mumbled something that might have been Doesn't matter and carried on regardless—for a long time.

Then, as Euan moaned, the witching hour came: Dennis positioned his cock at the threshold and pulling gently with one arm around Euan, slipped it inside, ever so slowly.

"Alright?" whispered Dennis.

"Yeah," said Euan, pressing backwards against his friend.

Almost before Euan answered, Dennis started to move in and out, slightly.

Euan felt so dreamy. He wanted this moment to last forever.

But then, real life caught up with him, and he felt a sexual feeling such as he had never known before.

"Oh, Dennis!" he said, and Dennis started to move more vigorously, letting out little cries of Oh! Yeah! Oh!

"Shag me hard, Dennis," he shouted, but Dennis continued at the same rate, but with ever-increasing vocalisations.

Euan was shouting more: "Go on Den! . . . Oh go on! . . . Oh!"

Both boys were coming. It was very quick—but, just for a few seconds, Euan felt transported into another world. He turned to kiss Dennis—not post-coitally, but ardently and excitedly.

They lay panting for a time; then Dennis said: "That was a good screw, ex-virgin."

"Mm," said Euan, " 'S been a long day. Let's go to sleep."

He turned away from Dennis, and made himself comfortable, with head turned sideways on the pillow. Dennis took hold of one of Euan's hands in his; his other hand, broadly spread, gently covered Euan's genitals.

In this position, they settled down to sleep; but, alas, Dennis, though also ready for sleep, became rather frisky, and jerked himself extra-tightly into Euan. Thereafter he was lost: the jerk started to repeat itself, and before either lad knew, promoted itself into a full-scale shag.

Once again, Euan felt dreamy. This time, though it didn't last forever, a respectable time passed—Dennis pumping away and breathing heavily in Euan's ear—before, with a squeaked Oh! he ground to a halt, and settled down once more to sleep.

Euan, however, was wide awake again. He was lusting for what lay between Dennis's warm, spicy loaves.

He pushed Dennis off—pfffrt! commented the bumhole—and turned him onto his back. He stuck a couple of pillows underneath for support, lifted the boy's legs, and dived in with nose and mouth. The plump, brown hole opened as sweetly as could be, and Euan was soon snuffling and licking it.

He decided that this would be a nice position to sleep in, but once again, events overtook him: a moan of pleasure from Dennis triggered a fire in his balls. In a trice, he had replaced tongue with turgid penis, and was banging hard and at a fierce rate.

It all felt so good. Euan might still have been grinding away, except for his rogue brain, which suddenly fed an image of Jackie, to his sex-centres. He pretended that he was doing Jackie's tight little gash, and came immediately with an almighty Arrggh!

This time he was really ready for sleep. He wrapped his arms around Dennis, and drifted off.

Not for long, though: several times through the night, one or other of the boys woke up . . . and dreamily raided the other's taut, silken box.

The next morning, Euan woke up at nine o'clock. He saw the time, and would have gone back to sleep, except for an urgent need to pee. He gently disengaged Dennis and went to the bathroom, where he was completing the dirty deed when his friend came in.

"Alright, Euan?" said Dennis.

"Alright, mate. You?"

"I'm hungry."

"Yeah; so am I."

"Just got time for a shower!"

Before Euan knew what was happening, Dennis aimed a spray of pee at him.

"You bastard!" giggled Euan, turning his back, "You waited till I'd emptied my bladder."

Dennis cuddled Euan lovingly, while finishing his pee. Then they went in the shower, where despite sore bumholes and cocks, they had one for the road. With a last kiss, and on their last legs, they went down to the breakfast-room.

It was busy, but Luna Lovegood had kept a corner for them—not difficult, as she was accompanied by her father, and a more eccentric-looking pair it would be hard to imagine. The guests had clearly decided that these two warranted a wide berth.

Euan and Dennis set about replenishing lost energy—and, in Dennis's case, lost proteins—while Mr Lovejoy talked to them about the rare magical creatures that they hoped to spot while they were in Denmark—in particular, the Crumple-Horned Snorcack.

Their little corner gradually filled up: Danny and his gang, the youngsters still keeping close to their dads; Colin and Alex, tired but radiant; Peter and Caerwen, full of energy; Sea Jay, looking like a mariner who has found a lasting port, and Jonny, protective and caring, always with a hand on his husband.

Last to arrive were the three boys who had been definitely the worse for wear on the previous night. They all looked hung over, but Derek was in a dreadful state: walking slowly and carefully, and wincing when he sat down. He retained his sailorly cheeriness, however.

"How are we this morning, me hearties?" he asked; and was splattered by the intensity of the replies. Everyone was apparently jolly this morning.

"Less noise please," said Tintin, "Oh, hello! Orange juice, sausage, bacon, egg and tea please." The latter was directed at the waitress.

"More protein!" laughed Derek. "You're already abrim, shipmate."

"Storing it up; there's an empty couple of weeks ahead for me, Delboy. Not like you with a delightful two weeks closeted in the company of four and twenty sailors."

Derek was to go on a sea-cadets' course before returning to Hogwarts for one final year.

"If it's anything like last time, we'll be too shagged to do anything but sleep by the time we get to bed; besides, I'm three sheets handicapped thanks to a certain party," said Derek. He nudged Adrian, who took hold of Derek's hand, saying to the waitress: "I'll have the same."

"Make that three!" said Derek.

"You've probably attracted some Nargles, Derek," said Luna.

"Or, perhaps, a minor infestation of Arthrobugs," said Mr Lovegood, "I recommend a triple necklace of Woody Nightshade."

"What's Arthrobugs?" asked Tintin, suppressing a giggle.

"Unpleasant fourth-dimensional creatures which can sting internally and externally, causing sharp pains and mood-swings," said Mr Lovegood.

"Woody nightshade; I thought he was an American clarinettist," said Derek, pinching Tintin to stop his laughter, "Thanks; I'll take some on board right away."

"I hope it's nice pains and nice moods, Del," murmured Adrian.

"You bet, sweetie!" whispered Derek, giving Adrian's penis a discreet tweak, "I'm going to miss you this term, though I've got my eye on another boy to find port with for this year."

"Who is it?" asked Tintin, "Do tell."

"Sealed orders!" was all that Derek would say, despite more pressure from Tintin.

Then their breakfasts arrived, and that diverted the nascent second-year.

After breakfast, a crowd of Neils and Harrises—four parents and three grandparents— turned up.

"It's too late!" said Sea Jay.

"It's legal and you can't turn back the clock!" said Jonny.

Between them, the two boys managed to convert the discussion from the practicalities of an immediate annulment to the logistics of commuting on a fortnightly basis between the Harris and Neil homes.

Things were much quieter on the bus back. The Creeveys had gone off with Danny's family, and Sea Jay and Jonny with their own families; Caerwen was to join Peter's family in the South of France.

Derek stretched out and immediately fell asleep with his head in Adrian's lap. Tintin nestled up to Adrian, who stretched his arm around Tintin.

Euan felt a bit strange: it was sad that the wedding was over and everyone was splitting up; yet it was only for two weeks; and he would be spending that time with his family.

He felt a hand slip into his. He was not the only boy feeling strange.

"It's only two weeks," whispered Euan.

"I know, but it seems . . ." whispered Alexander.

"It does, doesn't it?"

Euan slipped an arm around the boy, feeling a surge of love. The two boys nestled together cheek-to-cheek, as the bus raced over the North Sea.

Tintin, meanwhile, sat himself sideways on Adrian's lap, and hugged Derek. Softly, he began to sing:

All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All boys wise and wonderful:

I'd like to screw them all.

Each little arse that opens,

Each little bottom hole,

I'd like to part the bumcheeks

And gently take my toll.

The big bum in its trousers,

The small one in its shorts,

They may be high or lowly,

But both are made for sports.

My purple-headed penis

With creamy streaming jiz,

At sunset and in morning

I love to make it whiz.

The cold wind in the winter,

The pleasant summer sun,

Whatever clothes you're wearing,

Will come off every one.

The smooth shaft in its jungle,

The foreskin I draw back,

I wiggle it a little,

And stick it in the crack.

The twitching turns to banging,

My gonads start to splat,

And now it's God Almighty!

Take that! And that! And that!

By the time the song had suffered its third rendition, all the boys had picked up the words and were gaily singing. Euan got a stiffie, and guessed that the other boys were in the same state. Goodness knows what might have happened, but the bus pulled up to the Leaky Cauldron, and a gang of parents and guardians were there to meet them.

"I can use a potty," said Staffa, as Euan cuddled him.

12

On the Hogwarts Express, Euan and Jackie shared a compartment with James Carter and Gerda; also present were Tintin and a number of girls.

Tintin was the star: making himself and the other girls up; wiping it off; trying again. Jackie and Gerda were sometimes included, at which times Euan and James talked about what they had done during the summer.

Before they arrived at Hogwarts, Euan and Jackie had a little snog, ignoring the tittering from the other girls. James and Gerda followed suit. As the train drew in to the station, the two pairs broke apart.

James winked at Euan: the two boys had erections.

At the Sorting, Euan saw the two boys he had been expecting: Gareth, whose full name was Gareth Treharne, was Sorted into Gryffindor, and came to sit with Euan and his friends; Anthony Houlihan went to Slytherin.

Afterwards, they just had time to get to know the new boys before they were sent up to bed—shortly before the second-years. Euan didn't even get time for a proper talk with Dennis—just a mouthed tomorrow night! to each other.

In the dormitory, they all started talking at once; then stopped and started again. In the end, it was Alexander Bell who, being deemed the quietest, was allowed to start. He told them about the glorious night that the three Creeveys and Danny Jorrocks had spent with him; then the afternoon rowing with Colin and David and Simon; then the fortnight's holiday on the Isle of Wight.

He did not get as far as with the wedding, but allowed himself to be interrupted by James who told them about the holiday that he had had in Spain; Paul Smith then told about his trip pony-trekking in North Wales; and Peter Jones about his family visit to the New Forest.

"That leaves you, Euan," said James.

Euan panicked slightly as a vision of himself and Dennis obscenely writhing together came into his brain, and he quickly moved on to the topic of the wedding ceremony.

"Did Sea Jay and Jonny plan it beforehand, do you think?" asked James.

"I don't think so; what do you think Alexander?" said Euan.

But answer came there none: Alexander was asleep.

Not for long, though: at half past eleven, they were all awoken by a cacophony and a shrieky voice summoning them to the great hall. Then the awful news of restrictions on leaving your dormitory or going to other dormitories.

They discussed things on the Monday evening.

"There's got to be something we can do," said James.

"We can set up a rota and each of us can have a slot, with the rest standing guard outside," said Peter.

"Peter," squeaked Euan—his voice always went into falsetto when he was disturbed—"Apart from the fact that two hours is hopeless, six to eight is prime homework time. Can you imagine what our work will deteriorate into?"

"Alright, then," said Peter, "How about magicking our beds into a classroom for all of Saturday night?"

"And spend all night on edge that we'll get nabbed," said Euan, "And another thing: none of us have a clue about moving large objects invisibly."

"It's a bugger, isn't it?" said James.

It was pretty Paul Jones—straightest of the five boys—who came up with the solution: "Let's face it," he told them, "There's nothing we can do about the ban, but you know that Colin and his friends are working hard at getting round it. We've got to be ready for when they succeed. Why don't we . . ."

So Plan A came into existence, and the boys practised it, giggling and blushing while they did so.

13

But Sex was only a minor part of their lives in the early part of the term. The teachers, knowing the importance of a good beginning, started in medias res and loaded the students' brains with so many new concepts, so quickly, that they had to spend a lot of their spare time studying—and that was over and above homework.

Euan was somewhere around average overall, so had an average amount of trouble keeping up, but with one blind spot: Mathematics.

Wizards have an inbuilt antipathy to Maths, but Euan was the dumbo of dumboes. During his first year Professor Darrington had worked through a complicated equation and had one last step:

2x -1= x

Knowing Euan's capabilities, and thinking to give his confidence a boost, Professor Darrington concluded with: "So that gives us the trivial problem whose answer is, of course . . . Euan?"

Euan tried twenty-three, his lucky number for the week; after some guidance from the Professor, he came up with minus three; finally he settled on trick question: there's no solution.

So Euan joined the dismal ranks of Remedial Mathematics students, spending (wasting, he would have said) an hour a week that might be better spent on anything else.

The Remedial Mathematics regime, sadly, carried on into his second year, and it was with dismal hearts that Euan, together with half a dozen other mathematically degenerate second-years, trooped into Professor Darrington's office at two o'clock on the first Thursday of term.

Euan noticed that the Professor seemed to have experienced some sort of change of viewpoint during the summer holiday. He talked about this with Paul Turnbull as they crawled towards Mrs English's English and Latin class: "Did Darrington seem at all odd to you?"

Paul thought for a moment before saying: "Not really. It was the same old rot—you know: multiplying equations and cyclic quadrilaterals and that sort of thing,"

"Yeah, but don't you think he had a sort of new take on it?"

"I didn't notice. Perhaps he read a new textbook over the hols."

"Yeah, that must be it."

But Professor Darrington's eccentricities were forgotten under the pressure of homework.

On Sunday, Sea Jay imparted the momentous news: the Nine O'Clock Club offered singles or couples somewhere private for the night, the frequency dependent on the take-up.

As soon as he heard the news, Euan raced to find Dennis. The prospect of a regular soirée with boy was too enticing to be missed; and it would provide excellent relaxation from the stifling academic syllabus.

He found Dennis lounging in the evening sun, and drew him aside.

"Den," he whispered, "Have you heard about the Nine O'Clock Club?"

"Yeah," was the reply, "And before you ask, me and Colin have decided to join up as a couple."

"That's fair enough. Does Alexander know?"

"Colin's telling him now."

"See yer, then."

"See yer, Euan."

That night, in the dormitory, Euan offered his commiserations to Alexander.

"It's just one of these things Euan," said the boy, "Colin and Dennis are so close that their number one priority must be to each other."

"I know," said Euan, "But that doesn't make it any easier to bear."

"You must have been really looking forward to going with Dennis again."

"Yeah."

"At least you had that go at the wedding."

"Yeah. I mean no! It's none of your business."

"Silly!" said Alexander, "There's no need to be secretive."

"I know; but it was a very special night so I'd like to keep the memory just between Dennis and me. And yes, I was looking forward to seeing Dennis again; but all is not lost."

"What you mean?"

"Firstly, there's a chance that the big boys can find a way to smuggle Colin and Dennis into our dorm for the night."

"That would be wonderful. Plan A forever!"

"And secondly, I've decided to join the Nine O'Clock Club as a single."

"That's a bit extreme for a straight boy."

"Not at all. Everyone who joins the Nine O'Clock Club is likely to be a nice person, so it's a way of getting close to nice persons; and you don't have to have sex: it's all down to the individuals concerned."

"It sounds attractive."

"Go on, Alex; join up."

"Shall you and I join as a couple?"

"Don't be silly. It's not all about sex. We can have sex whenever we want. Be like me: leave it up to Fate."

"Okay, I suppose so."

"Come on, before you change your mind."

So Euan and Alexander rushed off to Adam Watts-Poxon and signed up. Then it was a matter of waiting until the Wednesday when the first week's allocations were posted.

In the interim, there was a lesson from Professor Darrington. Euan watched and listened carefully—which had the effect of improving his performance—and was more certain than ever that the Professor was behaving out of character.

He tried to explain his theory to his friends.

"It's just the same old crap, Euan," said Peter.

"It's you that's different," said James, "You're actually developing quite a mathematical brain."

"Yeah," said Jackie, "Look at the way you actually answered that remainder theorem question."

"Maybe you're right," said Euan, and the putative oddness of Professor Darrington was shelved for the moment.

On Wednesday, Euan, Peter and Alexander sat in the common room, supposedly doing homework but in actual fact waiting for Adam Watts-Poxon.

At seven o'clock on the dot, Adam came in carrying a sheet of parchment, but sat down with the Creeveys. They all looked at the parchment and had a long conversation about its contents.

"Come on, Adam!" muttered Peter, but it was a full five minutes before Adam walked over to the notice board and pinned the sheet up.

Most of the house went to have a look.

"What's it say, Harry?" shouted Dennis, as the Gryffindors clustered to read it.

"Same old crap about putting broomsticks away tidily in the shed," said Harry Potter.

The little second-years were at the back of the crowd, but tall Alexander managed to see.

"Peter and Caerwen are on Wednesday," he said, "Blimey, I've got a sixth-year! And you've got a first-year Euan."

"Who is it?" asked Euan, his cock twitching in excitement.

"Scott Fong."

Alexander did not need to explain: Scott was a full-blooded Chinese boy, and as such, very noticeable.

At last the crowd—mainly girls—how irrelevant can you get?—drifted away and Euan could read:

Thu Cho Chang VII(R) James Gloyne VI(H)

Michael Corner VI(R) Alexander Bell II(G)

Fri Colin Creevey V(G) Euan Abercrombie II(G)

Dennis Creevey III(G) Scott Fong I(H)

"Who's James Gloyne?" asked Euan.

"Havn't a clue," said Alexander, "Why do you want to know?"

"Don't know," said Peter.

No-one seemed to know, but at breakfast the next day, Peter went over to the Hufflepuff table and whispered something in Ernie Macmillan's ear. Ernie looked at someone and Peter returned.

"Between Harold Holmes and Susan Bones," he told them.

Euan and Peter looked at James Gloyne. He was tall, mousey-haired and nondescript.

"Looks harmless, Peter," said Euan.

"Yes," said Peter, doubtfully. Scott seemed such a little scrap; not like he-man Caerwen.

After lunch on Friday, Scott Fong came up to Euan.

"I'm Scott Fong," he said, holding out his hand.

"I know," said Euan, shaking it.

"We're on in seven days time."

"I know."

"Looking forward to it?"

"Yeah."

Euan was being polite here, as he was feeling nervous. Perhaps joining the Nine O'Clock Club had been a step too far for a straight boy.

"So am I."

Seen close to, Scott was rather beautiful. His skin had a viscous sheen. His dark eyes were looking at Euan. They were smiling. Euan looked at his mouth. It was smiling too. His button nose; stiff hair; nicely-shaped ears. And the thin, vulnerable neck. In a week they would be his.

They were standing close together and Euan became aware of a delicate body odour—a faint, sweet smell of sweat. It was the odour of boy.

Euan suddenly realised that Scott was looking at him in the same way that he was looking at Scott. Did Scott think he was beautiful? He blushed.

Scott laughed,

"Don't worry," he said, "It'll be wonderful."

"Yeah. I gotta run."

"See you, Euan!"

"See you, Scott!"

Euan hurried to collect his games kit, realising that he was genuinely looking forward to the session.

His anticipation was enhanced by what Dennis told him on the Sunday: "I asked Kevin Whitby to find out about Fong."

"And?" said Euan, prepared for the worst.

"He's a screamer."

"How do you mean?"

"He has orgasms like you and me; and, like you and me, he screams."

"Oh dear! What if I don't give him an orgasm?"

Dennis laughed: "How many times did you come at the wedding?"

"I don't know; five or six."

"I came five times and you came two or three more than me."

"So?"

"Euan, we're straight! Scott is a homo. You just need to cuddle him and he'll come."

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Euan, brightening up, "And I'll know when he does come won't I?"

"Of course you will."

Euan thought for a moment; then: "Dennis?"

"Yes?"

"I wish it was you."

"I wish it was too, but greater brains then ours are on the job. Live in hope."

"Yes. Got time for a wank, Den?"

"Come on then."

All the talk about coming was too much for the boys and they vanished for five minutes into one of the lavvy cubicles.

Euan had to concentrate strongly through the week to keep his mind on his schoolwork. All he could think of was: Five days to D-Day . . . then Four, Three, Two.

Then it was Friday.

Alexander was full of his night with James Gloyne.

"What was it like going with a stranger?" they asked him at morning break.

"It was okay," said Alexander, "I was a little scared at first—you know, being alone with two sixth-years and a seventh-year, but all three of them seemed such kindly, gentle people that I was soon at home.

"It was so sweet," he said, "We took our clothes off, and Jimmy just wanted to cuddle. He didn't want Sex; he wanted Love. He wasn't bothered about Sex at all—not even sexy kissing. He just wanted to hold me and for me to hold him.

"He didn't get a stiffie for ages; then when I went to suck him off, he kept telling me I didn't have to do it and was I sure."

"I bet he let you in the end, said Dennis, who had a hand inside his robe and was rubbing himself as though he were his kid brother."

"You bet!" said Alexander, "He came quickly in my mouth; then it was back to cuddling."

"What's his willy like?" asked Jonny.

"Just like him," giggled Alexander, "Tall and skinny. A bit of a change from Colin. And it made me realise how much Love there is in the most unexpected people."

"Aw," said the romantic Sea Jay, and squeezed Alexander's hand.

Euan was looking forward to the prospect of spending a night with Scott—with the Creeveys there for support.

Nothing is straightforward, though: after lunch, Anthony Houlihan, the darkie Slytherin boy slipped a note into his hand.

He read it surreptitiously during Games:

Dear Abercrombie,

I've got a problem and I don't know how to handle it. You're the only boy I can trust. Please meet me by the lake tomorrow after lunch. Please.

Anthony Houlihan

Euan's head was spinning. He'd just got his head around having sex with Scott Fong and here was another first-year after his body. And not for the most flattering of reasons either: it was trust, not lust that had led the boy to Euan, though he had no doubt that sex was behind the request.

It wasn't as though he had given Anthony any encouragement—a single Hello and a couple of polite nods. It wasn't as though Euan was a boy of surpassing beauty—though the way that Scott had looked at him . . .

No. Despite the increased openness that there was in the school, and the existence of the Nine O'Clock Club, Slytherin house was still stuck with an anti-gay ethic. Tibbs and Pucey were exceptions—and they probably had understanding parents.

Under such a system it must be hell for a gay boy to exist within Slytherin—especially a gay boy who had a man's lusts and took a man's pleasure in orgasm, as no doubt had Houlihan.

So Houlihan, looking around for a secret partner, had settled on the boy who he had met in Knockturn Alley, which, almost by definition, implied some accommodation at the very least with the Dark Arts.

But that was tomorrow's problem. Let tomorrow sort it out. Tonight was a more straightforward case!

14

At five to nine, Colin said to Euan: "Are you fit?"

"Not 'arf. Come on, Den," said Euan.

The three boys slunk off to the fourth floor. Seeing no-one outside the loo, they went inside where they found Scott monitoring the spyholes.

"Hi, I'm Colin Creevey."

"Scott Fong."

"Dennis Creevey."

"Euan Abercrombie."

They shook hands, laughing merrily at the pomposity of the situation.

"I've been here for twenty minutes and seen nothing," said Scott.

"How did you know about the holes?" asked Colin.

"Nathan Kirton told me," said Scott, "So I came early."

He drew Euan to the spyholes which allowed people to sit in palatial comfort, watching the goings-on in the urinals and cubicles below.

"It's not surprising you've seen nothing at this time of night," said Euan.

"Perhaps we ought to come back during the day," said Scott.

"Who needs to spy when you've got the real thing?" said Euan, taking Scott's hand and leading him to bed.

"True," said Scott.

"Goodnight Creeveys," they called, as staring at each other's bodies, they slowly disrobed.

Looking at Scott, as more and more became visible, Euan was struck again by the boy's delicate beauty. Everything seemed to be perfect of its kind, and perfectly in proportion to everything else.

He reached out a hand and stroked the smooth cheek—first one and then the other. Then he fingered an ear and stretched out both hands to finger both ears. He moved a hand to stroke the neck—from the chinline to the collarbone.

"You are beautiful," he whispered.

"No you are beautiful," whispered Scott.

Euan shifted his hands: one cradling Scott's neck; the other stroking his back. He felt the knobbly spine beneath his fingers.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Scott's.

Scott leapt backward, saying: "Ugh! . . . I don't do that!"

"Okay," said Euan, and got himself into bed and under the duvet.

If Scott wasn't prepared to kiss him, then he wasn't a proper partner.

As he closed his eyes and prepared for sleep, Scott got into bed. He put his arm around Euan and kissed the nape of his neck.

Euan was feeling dreamy—and, for the first time, randy. Notwithstanding this, he turned off his mind, ready to go to sleep.

Scott had other ideas. His hand went lower and lower, until it had reached Euan's little stiffie.

Euan grabbed the hand and pulled it away, whispering: "No!"

"Come on Euan!" said Scott.

"No."

"It's only a feel."

"A true gay boy always has a kiss and cuddle before anything else. That's what Danny Jorrocks told the Jiggers."

"I'm not sure I'm a true gay boy."

"That's okay; we can sleep together for company."

"Don't you want to suck my knob?"

"No. Ask me again when we've had a proper kiss."

Scott yanked Euan onto his back and pressed their lips together. Euan opened his mouth to allow Scott free access. But the lad kept his lips passive, while stroking Euan's body.

After a few dreamy moments, Euan pushed his tongue forwards.

Scott gently disengaged and once more lowered his hand to feel Euan's penis.

Again, Euan grabbed the wandering hand, telling Scott: "Gerroff! That wasn't a proper kiss."

"Okay, okay," said Scott, "Show me what you want."

Euan arranged himself and Scott in a face-to-face position. Each boy had one hand under the other's neck, hugging his shoulder while the other hand was free to roam.

Then he kissed Scott on the lips, opening his lips a little between kisses so that there was a mwa . . . mwa sound. He gently stroked the boy's shoulders and back, but reached no further than the small of the back.

Scott got the idea and reciprocated. The whole scenario was calming, but simultaneously erotic.

Thirty seconds into the kiss, Euan licked Scott's lips, then inserted his tongue inside. After licking the inside of Scott's mouth for another thirty seconds, Euan withdrew his tongue. As he had hoped, Scott's tongue followed Euan's.

Euan could not resist a groan of pleasure. He forced his mouth tightly against Scott's, producing a groan from the little Chinese boy.

Things were hotting up. The kisses became more ardent; the embraces stronger; the hands wandered further; the groans became louder and more frequent. Scott's hand was squeezing Euan's buttocks.

Euan moved his hand round to the front and took hold of Scott's rock-hard penis. With a yelp of lust, Scott did the same to Euan, and they immediately started a loud and noisy mutual wank.

They both came quickly: Scott with a series of loud shrieks which well-justified Kevin Whitby's depiction of him as a screamer; and Euan with a deafening sequence—a falsetto Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Oh!

They lay breathless. Euan felt that his face was all wet. He looked at Scott's face. It was also wet. He giggled.

"What's so funny?" whispered Scott.

"We couldn't have got our faces wetter if we'd spat all over them."

"Maybe we did. I'm sorry."

"You can spit over me whenever you want."

"I'll take you up on that."

Both boys giggled, and nestled together to sleep.

He was woken in the morning by Scott's busy hands, one of which had a firm grip on Euan's very stiff willy while the other was . . . was at least a finger's length inside his bumhole.

It felt good.

"Morning lover-boy!" he murmured.

"Morning lover-boy!" said Scott.

Euan felt dreamy.

"This is nice," he said.

But after a while, Scott withdrew his finger and Euan immediately felt the tip of a penis nudging his bumhole.

"No!" he said, turning himself round.

"Go on; you'll like it."

"No; there's only one boy allowed to do that."

Scott was still masturbating Euan, who stretched his neck and took Scott's willy into his mouth. He thought he'd compensate Scott for his bumhole being out of bounds. He sucked for a bit, then licked Scott's scrotum before opening his mouth to engulf it. Scott had tiny balls. He reverted to the willy and took it all into his mouth. He started sucking and stroking.

Scott was jerking with delight; and so was Euan.

They came.

This time, Scott was the louder of the two as Euan's mouth was currently bunged up.

As Scott came, Euan felt the enchanting quiver of his penis in his mouth and immediately—but comparatively quietly—came himself.

"That was so good!" said Scott and shifted himself so that he could take Euan's detumescing penis into his mouth.

They lay in a companionable sixty-nine for a few minutes, each of them starting to stiffen again, until they heard Colin's voice from the adjacent bed: "Five to six boys. Hands off cocks and on socks!"

Giggling, Euan and Scott tried to reach for their socks, but fell apart.

"Next time!" said Scott.

"Next time in spades!" said Euan.

They got dressed and emerged to greet the Creeveys.

"Alright, boys?" asked Colin.

"Brilliant," said Euan, "I don't suppose it was all that special for you two?"

"No," said Dennis, "Not all that special."

For some reason, the Creeveys giggled. They had something on. Euan hoped that it was to do with getting into the second-years' dormitory.

On the second floor, they parted with Scott, who was on his way to Hufflepuff basement. They said their goodbyes, and Euan and Scott had a mouth-to-mouth kiss.

"Nice boy," said Colin, as they turned on the way to Gryffindor.

"Yeah, but not as nice as someone else I know," laughed Euan, taking Dennis's hand and drawing him into a cuddle and a kiss.

"Yikes, no!" yelled Dennis, breaking free, "I'm saving myself for . . . er"

Colin giggled: "You'll have to forgive him, Euan. He's under a bit of stress at the moment."

Dennis also giggled: "Yeah, you could say that."

At that moment, there came a shrill shout: Euan!

They turned and saw Scott.

The two boys ran to each other. Scott hugged Euan, locked lips and nearly succeeded in reaching Euan's tonsils with his tongue.

Breaking off when each boy ran out of breath, he said: "That's a better sort of goodbye, isn't it? See yer, Euan!"

"See yer, Scott."

He went back to Gryffindor telling himself that he was being greedy in wanting Dennis. Rejoice in what you've got! he told himself. He had made a good friend in Hufflepuff; who knew what additional friends would be presented to him by the Nine O'Clock Club?

He reached his dormitory and heard Colin and Dennis whispering at Dennis's door, one floor up.

He caught a phrase: Danny Jorrocks which caused his heart to leap up. Surely, if anyone could get the Creeveys into the dorm, Danny could.

Much heartened, he went inside. Peter and Paul were top-and-tailing in his bed. They were apparently eager to get the earliest possible report of the night's doings though only Peter knew about the Nine O'Clock Club. Euan had told the others that he had fixed up to meet Scott in an empty classroom.

Well, they'd have to wait for a couple of hours, thought Euan.

He slipped into his bed and was fast asleep almost at once, snuggled up to Peter, with their bodies separated by Paul's pleasantly aromatic feet.

15

The boys woke up shortly after eight o'clock. Alexander and James perched on Euan's bed as he told them the story of the night.

"Did he really have orgasms?" asked Peter.

"Yeah, and loud ones," said Euan.

"Were they as loud as yours?" asked James.

"Yeah," said Euan, lying through his teeth but not wanting to be thought of—even by his friends—as some sort of freak.

"It's just not fair," said Peter, "The rest of us might have to wait for years."

They split up to brush their teeth and get dressed before going down to the common room.

"Look, there's been a change," said Peter as they passed the notice board.

They stopped and looked:

THE NINE O'CLOCK CLUB

ROTA W/C 22-IX-1996

ESTABLISHED RANDOM

Sun Peter Jones II(G) Kirke, Andrew, III(G)

Caerwen Morgan II(R) Adcock, Ricky, III(R)

Mon Ronnie Clack V(H) Hopkins, Wayne, VI(H)

Ephraim Chambers VI(R) Hinton, Matthew, II(H)

Tue Tom Leggatt V(R) Webb, David, III(R)

Paul Grindell III(R) Cadwallader, Owen, VII(H)

Craig Alexander V(R)

Wed Derek Rath V(H) McKay, Ruairidh, I(G)

Nicholas Ferro IV(R) Peakes, Jimmy, III(G)

Thu Cho Chang VII(R) Bloom, Christopher, I(R)

Michael Corner VI(R) Treharne, Gareth, I(G)

Fri Colin Creevey V(G) Dickinson, Kyle, VII(G)

Dennis Creevey III(G) Rann, Trevor, III(H)

Sat Ronnie Clack V(H) Mason, David, I (H)

Ephraim Chambers VI(R) Goodenough, Colin, V(H)

"There's two boys in the same dorm formed a new established couple," said Peter, "Why should they do that? Do you think it's to keep it secret?"

"No, just the opposite," said Euan, "They're proudly proclaiming their gayness to everyone."

"Good for them!" said Peter.

"Which ones are Tom Leggatt and Craig Alexander?" asked Euan.

"Adam's mates," said Peter, "You know: long hair. Very dishy."

"I'll grant you the one with the reddish hair," laughed Euan, "But I think I'll steer well clear of the other one. He looks a bit of a bruiser."

"Looks aren't everything," said Peter.

"Come on chaps," said James, "Putting away brooms tidily isn't that interesting."

Euan and Peter smiled at each other as they went down to breakfast.

Euan was due to see Anthony Houlihan after lunch, but first there was three hours of homework to get through.

He worked in the room next to the library. He was by himself as the other four boys in his dormitory had put in their three hours on the previous night when Euan had been too keyed-up to work.

After lunch, he told his friends that he needed a walk to clear his head. He headed for the lake. There were a few couples and Houlihan wandering about. Houlihan saw Euan's approach and sauntered round the lake to the scrubby moorland that rose on the other side. Euan divined that the meeting was to be secret. He had made up his mind that, as far as sex was concerned, the answer was NO.

As he followed Houlihan up the hillside, Euan occasionally lost sight of the boy, but always saw him again, a hundred yards away, until . . .

Damn! He had been too timid and had lost track altogether.

Then he heard a Psst! from a clump of gorse.

He walked across to the spot. A voice hissed: Make sure no-one sees you and come in!

He looked around. Apart from a boy and girl walking around the lake, there was nobody within a hundred yards. He ducked down and brushed his way into the clear area at the centre.

Houlihan was crouched low.

"Hello," said Euan.

"Are you sure no-one saw you?" asked Houlihan. He spoke in a surprisingly posh accent, but showed what appeared to be evident terror.

"Yeah."

Houlihan stretched to have a peep all round; then he said intensely: "This is absolutely secret."

Euan knew that, despite all the efforts of Danny Jorrocks and others, homosexuality had to be kept as a desperate secret by many of the students—particularly some of the Slytherins.

"Okay," he said.

"Swear!"

"Yeah, yeah. I swear."

Houlihan drew a dagger and held it to Euan's throat.

"Bloody hell, Houlihan!" squeaked Euan, "There's no need to take a knife to me! If you're that desperate, here I am." He reached underneath his robe and took his trousers and underpants down.

Houlihan ignored him. Touching the dagger onto Euan's throat, he said: "Repeat after me: I solemnly swear . . ."

"I solemnly swear."

". . . on my life, that I will never divulge this conversation to anybody."

"On my life, that I will never divulge this conversation to anybody."

Houlihan put away the knife.

"It's all about my father," he said.

"Your father?" said Euan.

"Yeah," he said, before noticing that Euan's clothes were around his ankles. "Er . . . Why have you taken down your pants?"

"Never mind that," said Euan, and pulled his underpants and trousers up. "Go on about your father."

"Right. Euan this is desperately secret. I'm putting his life in your hands—and my own life; and my mother's."

"I don't understand."

"My father is a wanted man."

"So that's why your mother was so suspicious of me when you saved me from that man?"

"Absolutely. But we talked it over with Father afterwards and gave you a clean bill of health."

"But if your Father is wanted, can't he go to the Muggle Police?"

"It's not as easy as that. Father is a wizard, but only a minor wizard. There were hundreds of minor wizards in the West Congo, when he was growing up, but he was good enough to get to the top by a mixture of magic and Muggle schemes. He got to be President and Prime Minister for Life. He had a good ten years at the top, then three years ago there was a coup and he, Mother and I had to flee the country. We ended up in Britain."

"But surely, people aren't all that bothered about revenge—I mean there must be hundreds of ex-presidents who've bumped off their opponents and done all sorts of bad things, and they're now living quiet lives."

Houlihan's voice dropped to a whisper: "Father was greedy, but provident. He skimmed off millions and smuggled it to numbered Swiss bank accounts. The money is still there, but Father doesn't dare go to Switzerland. The Muggle authorities would arrest him at the border . . . and now he's facing worse."

"Worse?"

"The Dark Lord has got wind of the money. Even he can't get at it without my Father's fingerprints and knowledge of the numbers. So he's after my father. Fortunately, Father learned about the Dark Lord's knowledge just in time to get Mother anonymously to America and me to the safety of Hogwarts—where I was bound anyway."

Euan was rapt.

"And your father?" he asked.

"My father decided to hide in the safest, best-protected place in the country," said Houlihan.

"Where's that?"

"Hogwarts, of course!"

Euan looked around, as though a great black figure would suddenly become visible.

"Wait a minute," he said, "Your dad is not exactly unnoticeable. He must be being concealed by one of the teachers."

"Sort of," laughed Houlihan, "He's being concealed by Dickie Darrington."

Euan passed over the amazing fact of Darrington actually being called Dickie. "Darrington?" he said, "But he Floos back to his wife and children every weekend, and evening, when he's not on duty."

"He certainly does not. My father Floos back to stay with the entire Darrington family for the weekend."

"But, surely, someone would notice—it's a well-known fact that the Floo Network is thoroughly monitored—by the Ministry and by agents of the Dark Side."

"No-one would notice if my father had the same physical form as Uncle Dickie."

"The same physical . . . Oh! He must use Polyjuice!"

"Got it!"

"What a brilliant idea! How did your father fix Darrington."

"It's not a fix. They're old friends. Father did a degree course at London University in his youth and Uncle Dickie was on the same course. They were both doing Maths at Imperial College and they were the only two wizards on the course; so they became friends and stayed as friends. Dickie Darrington was delighted to help out his old friend. He briefed Father about the Hogwarts Maths syllabus over the summer holiday and sent him off to Hogwarts. Meanwhile Uncle Dickie has been able to put in some work on his thesis: The Application of Symmetric Group Theory to Magical Charms."

"It sounds an ideal situation. Why the sudden panic?"

"On Tuesday, Dickie wanted a reference, so he went to the library. Someone must have clocked him because, that evening, a man from the Ministry came round. Uncle Dickie laid low while Auntie Maud explained that her husband had Flooed down to London when he had a couple of free periods and had returned to Hogwarts."

"Sounds plausible."

"Not plausible enough. At this very moment there are people in the Ministry checking the Floo records. They'll soon twig what's been happening and then the Dark Lord will know—because the Ministry is permeated with his agents like a Swiss cheese."

"Isn't it all to the good? Your father is safe at Hogwarts so why can't he simply stay here until the threat blows over?"

"There's no saying when things will blow over. And, even now, my father is suffering from Polyjuice sickness. If he has to stay at Hogwarts all the time, he's got to take a Polyjuice holiday or die. That's the stark truth."

"How can I help?"

"You can ask other people. I'm in Slytherin, and everything that happens is reported back to the Dark Side; I can't take the risk of asking other people. But you can. You can discretely ask some of the big boys for a way out. Euan we're at our wits' end. Please help us."

"Okay," said Euan, trying to exude an aura of confidence, "Leave it with me. Now I'd better creep away. When I've got something for you, I'll appear at mealtimes with a sprig of mistletoe on my robe. Okay?"

"Okay, Euan and—"

"Total secrecy. I know."

"What I was going to say was thanks a million, Euan."

"Don't mention it, Houlihan."

He slunk off.

16

Euan had the rest of the afternoon taken up with Jackie. By tea, he was feeling horny—very horny: hornier than usual. He initially put this down to the usual Jackie-pangs, but realised that the main current inspiration was black and possessed of a penis and balls.

Euan had spent his life having dealings with people of the same skin colour as himself, but here, the day after his dealings with the yellow-skinned "Fong, he was confronted with a black boy and was experiencing the attraction of difference and the lure of the exotic.

He owed himself a wank and resolved to have one that night, and to think of Houlihan while he was about it. He would imagine himself in a three-way with Fong and Houlihan.

He would have to try and fiddle himself into bed on his own. Peter and Paul—and Euan himself—took much comfort during these disturbed times in sharing a bed. Peter especially was quite frisky and, on occasion, had been sent to put on his pyjamas—and underpants for safety.

Sex was forgotten during the Saturday night games, but came up again as they sat winding down before bedtime.

Euan was snuggled up to Dennis, all thoughts of Fong and Houlihan forgotten.

"Dennis, we should have locked ourselves in the bog all night instead of playing these damn-fool games," he said.

"Just have patience," said Dennis.

"I know," said Euan, impatiently.

Nine o'clock came—bedtime—and the prefects were very strict. Protestations were cut short, however, when the Creevey brothers said that they were going to bed too. Euan was targeting a quick kiss and cuddle with Dennis at the second-year dormitory door.

But to their amazement and joy, the Creeveys came into the dormitory.

Amid the uproar, James Carter kept a cool head and commanded: "Shut up everybody! Plan A!"

In an instant, by magical and Muggle methods, clothes were removed and a bed capable of holding seven friendly boys was created.

The naked visitors were inspected first. Euan was totally engrossed in Dennis's cock. Its skin was silky-smooth and the glans was of the brightest purple you could imagine. It seemed to have grown a little too. Euan noticed that the balls, inside the tight sack seemed much bigger than he had seen before.

Then it was the turn of the brothers. The five residents lined up by the bed and were subject to pulling and prodding by the Creeveys. The big surprise was James: he had a few wispies and told them that he could come. James was the first of the five. Within a year or two, the others would follow James. What would life be like in the dormitory with five randy boys cooped up? Euan had a sudden vision of a totally happy Hogwarts—happy at work and play; and happy with homosexuality until the boys were released at eighteen—most of them smoothly transitioning to heterosexual, but with glorious memories . . .

. . . The first of which began now: Euan got into the large bed between Dennis and Paul. He found Paul's hand and held it tightly. The two boys had agreed to do this as their own little sub-clause of Plan A. Paul was not yet ready for sex, but by holding hands with his best friend he could be close to the boys who were participating.

The lights were off. In the dark, Colin began reading a super story about a witch whose son, the village smith, was in love with a spirited village girl, but up against the devil himself.

Colin's voice formed a pleasant backdrop in Euan's mind, as Dennis drew him into a long, affectionate kiss. One of Dennis's hands played with Euan's nipples in turn; the other went straight to the heart of the matter, stroking his shoulders, his back and his bum, before inserting a finger in the bumhole.

Euan gave a controlled shriek, and Dennis shifted downwards, strongly sucking each nipple in turn. Euan felt an orgasm impending, and no sooner had Dennis wrapped his mouth around his penis, than it arrived—waves and waves of orgasm. There was no need to try for silence: as his body jerked frantically Euan enjoyed the luxury of full-throated yells—nobody would complain tonight.

Eventually, Euan stopped screaming and jerking. Dennis turned his body around, and opened his mouth wide to take in Euan's tightly-packed scrotum. Euan moaned with pleasure and Dennis raised Euan so that his thighs were resting on his shoulders and replaced his finger with his tongue, licking out Euan's bumhole with loud slurps.

Euan's horn had come back. He desperately wanted Dennis to bugger him, and Dennis obliged: positioning his knob at the portal of love and gently, but firmly, pressing it home. Then he was bouncing up and down as only Dennis could bounce, with Euan drawing the two of them tightly together with one arm, while keeping Paul's hand tightly in the grasp of the other.

He was aware that the other boys were looking at them, which made it even sexier. Dennis was panting and started shouting: Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Little Euan! . . . Yes! and such like. Euan was shouting too. Together they came to a deafening orgasm. Euan felt as one with Dennis. He had his squirt inside him.

"Did you come?" asked Peter.

"They must have heard that in Diagon Ally," said James.

"Euan?" said Paul.

As Euan lay panting, he looked at Colin. The expected resumption of the story would have to be postponed: Alexander was slowly impaling himself on Colin. This was the reason that Colin was in the dorm in the first place. Euan watched in awe as Colin started to move in and out.

Dennis pulled out, and turned to watch too.

Peter was sucking Alexander, as the boy was subjected to a reaming from Colin's much larger cock.

After only a few seconds, Colin flushed and moaned.

"Go it Col!" shouted Dennis, stroking Colin's leg.

"Colin forever!" said Euan, his one free hand stroking the other leg and meeting Peter's hand in the process.

Colin had reached the point of no return. He was grunting and shouting as his seed pumped into Alexander.

Euan felt just a hint of jealousy: Colin must be coming gallons inside Alexander. Then he dismissed all nasty thoughts. He was quite happy to receive Dennis's lesser offering. Truth to tell, he would have been quite happy just to hold hands with any of the boys. He gave Paul's hand a little extra squeeze and was pleased to receive a squeeze in return.

"I love you, Col," said Alexander.

"I love you, Alex," said Colin, as he and Alexander stopped moving.

"I love you both," said Dennis.

His statement was echoed by the other four boys—Peter in a mumble as he still had Alexander's willy in his mouth.

Colin lay still for some moments and then picked up the book and resumed the story. The smith had tricked the devil into his sack and was forcing him to take him to the Tsarina's court.

Dennis stretched and licked, then sucked Peter's fat little knob. The sight of Dennis's small, firm bottom was too much for Euan: he jumped and mounted his friend. He was going to . . . but sleep intervened.

17

Euan slowly became conscious.

He was lying on top of Dennis, cuddling him tightly. Dennis was cuddling him back.

The memory of the previous glorious night came to him. He felt so happy.

He opened his eyes. It was a moment before he realised that it wasn't Dennis that he was cuddling. It was Paul! Pretty, straight Paul.

He tried to move away before Paul woke up and realised what was going on. But Paul already knew: he opened his eyes and whispered: "Stay just like this, please, Euan."

"Okay, mate," whispered Euan.

Paul pulled his face towards him for a kiss. Euan fell asleep as the two boys kissed each other tenderly.

They were still in roughly the same position when they woke again. From the position of the sun, it was around eight o'clock. Euan had a rampant erection. He wanted Dennis's arse and moved to shift away so that he could find it.

But Paul was ahead of him again.

"Don't leave me," he whispered, "You can—you know—if you want." He opened his legs and drew his knees up on either side of Euan to show what he meant.

"It's what you want," whispered Euan, "We're still best friends whatever happens."

"I want to be fully part of you all. Now and every Saturday night. Please do me now, Euan."

Euan reached for a wand and gave Paul a Lubricio!

He threw the wand—probably James'—back to the side-table, and ducked his head between Paul's bumcheeks. He pressed his tongue to the boy's bumhole. It was tiny, and very tight. He tried it with his finger. Paul winced and whispered: "Go on, Euan."

When he had wiggled his finger about for a little while, Euan replaced it with his willy. After a bit of pushing, he managed to get it up, eliciting no more than a tiny groan from Paul.

His mouth found Paul's, and he sucked while thrusting his pelvis in and out. Paul pulled Euan towards him and hugged him tightly, while exploring Euan's mouth with his tongue.

"Goodness!" came Peter's voice, "You're a dark horse Paul."

Euan felt Peter doing something behind him; then a sharp pain as Peter's willy penetrated him. Then Peter was shagging Euan—or rather, letting Euan do the work—supporting himself on hands and knees while Euan moved backwards and forwards.

This was a fantastic experience. Euan could smell different sorts of sweat coming from Paul's and Peter's armpits. He could taste the new flavour of Paul's mouth.

He was aware that the other lads had woken up and were stirring, but could only think of Peter and Paul. The three of them had often slept together in the past; but now, everything had changed: the three boys would be united for the rest of their time at Hogwarts—five boys, in fact: Alexander and James would be part of the family too.

He felt himself beginning to climax, and clutched Paul more tightly. Then he was screaming in between his kisses of Paul's lips and nose and eyes. Once more the exhilaration of orgasm had come to him. As his lunging slowed down and stopped, he had had a stranger new sort of feeling: with excitement he realised that it would surely be soon that he would be able to squirt.

When the world stopped spinning, he looked to see what the other boys were doing. Colin was, once more, giving Alexander the full works. Dennis and James were indulging in a sixty-nine, with James squeaking slightly as Dennis explored his virgin bumhole with a finger.

The Creeveys came with the usual amount of noise, and the seven boys lay puffing in a loving huddle.

"Should we think about breakfast?" asked Dennis.

"No. Let's just enjoy the moment," said Paul.

"This moment should last forever," said Peter.

"The moment includes this," said James, and he shuffled over to kiss Paul.

So they spent some time loving each other and getting to know each other physically. But most of the time was spent with Paul: everyone knew that had had a hard life and now he had blossomed and found happiness at Hogwarts in the company of gay and part-time-gay boys.

There came a knock on the door at ten o'clock. It was Sea Jay and Johnny, bearing two trays of breakfast. The trays were handed over the threshold, but Colin told them: "Come in if you've got your medals. There's no secrets in this dorm."

The two boys came in and chatted to the others, noticing with delight Paul's increase in physicality, and monitoring as each member of the dorm showered. They took particular interest in James' slightly precocious development.

At lunchtime, they went down to the Great Hall, but only managed a light lunch.

"My knob's sore," Peter whispered to Euan.

"So's mine," whispered Euan, "Heavenly, isn't it?"

"What's the secret, boys?" asked Jackie.

"Just boys' things," replied Euan, and the boys giggled.

Over lunch, Euan was conscious of a dark emotion on the borderline of his thoughts. No sooner was lunch over, when he realised that he had given absolutely zero consideration to Houlihan's problem.

He must put that right. Forgoing the opportunity of romancing Jackie, and the likelier opportunity of joining Dennis and his gang in playing Muggle farms, he set off for a walk around the lake.

As far as he was concerned, Houlihan's problem was twofold: how to escape Hogwarts; and where to conceal himself from the Dark Lord and Muggle enemies once he had escaped.

The first problem was easily solved: Dr Houlihan could easily escape from Hogwarts by Polyjuicing as someone else—not Mr Darrington, obviously, as the Ministry would be watching out for him.

Where to hide was more of a problem. If Dr Houlihan had been a more competent wizard, there would have been hundreds of ways of concealing himself. However, the fact had to be faced that he was a bloody useless wizard. Perhaps concealment among Muggles was the best option.

Euan thought of all the Muggles that he knew. The Satchwells were a possibility, but Dr Houlihan would stick out in Muggle Banbury like Lachlan Tibbs' penis. No, a six-foot-six, jet-black man could only be hidden in London.

And there Euan was really stuck: he scarcely knew any Muggles in London—certainly none well enough to foist a complete stranger onto them.

On the far side of the lake, he saw the gorgeously beautiful Hufflepuff second-year Gideon Buchanan. He stopped to admire the boy. He was accompanied by Adam Woodman, a serious-looking blond boy, with spectacles under a broad forehead. The two of them were coming down from the rough ground, where they had probably been renewing acquaintance. Euan remembered that the two boys had been drawn together in the Nine O'Clock club. It appeared that the pairing had an element of permanence.

The two boys were laughing uproariously, but stopped to say hello to Euan.

"What's tickling you two?" asked Euan.

"I was telling Gideon about this character I met in the summer. He was such a Narcissus that his only reaction to the thought of gay sex was: I don't see why they bother: they'll never find anyone as good-looking as me."

Euan laughed, and said: "What's he do about sex himself, then, Adam?"

"Give him a looking glass, and he's well away," laughed Adam, "Oh and by the way: ignore the official list. I've changed my name to Adrian."

"Okay, Adrian. Tell me more about this narcissist."

"Well, he escaped from the loonie-bin, so he's in hiding in Muggle land."

"He's a wizard himself, is he."

"Supposedly. But I don't suppose he knows one end of a wand from the other; so he's effectively a Muggle."

"He sounds as though he needs looking after."

"Oh yes. He gets looked after fine. He's really fallen on his feet. He's in a house full of Muggles, disguised as an Indian."

"Do they know he's not really an Indian?"

"Yes—it was their idea. The thing is that he goes round the Muggle fairs and markets telling fortunes. He's terrific at it, apparently. A terrific con-artist I mean, though I think he was a high-powered con-artist before he went mad. Anyway, he's the star of the house; and even if he weren't, the Muggles would still love him. He's like a little boy—totally self-centred."

"Like Gideon, you mean!"

"Piss off!" laughed Gideon, "I'm trying to con Adrian."

"And succeeding too!"

"You said it!"

The two boys giggled and briefly touched hands.

"Gideon's teaching me about sex," said Adam. He was a hot little number once you got near him, thought Euan.

"I bet you're learning quickly," he said.

"No; gently does it," said Adam, "We've got all our lives ahead of us."

Euan suddenly had the impression of the years coming up on him unexpectedly. He was just approaching puberty. In a few months, it would be gone—gone forever.

"Don't be too gentle," he advised the couple, before making his goodbyes.

As he walked back to the Castle, he was a little down, but soon cheered up when he got among his friends.

At dinner that evening, there came a bombshell.

Dumbledore announced: "The boys' lavatories on the fourth floor are now redundant. They are out of bounds and have been magically sealed so no attempt at ingress will succeed."

There was an admirable lack of reaction from members of the Nine O'Clock club. They were used to keeping their emotions concealed.

It was a real shame, thought Euan. Such a brilliant scheme and it had only lasted for a week. He brightened up, however, when he considered that the big boys would even now be considering the next scheme.

Then Dumbledore made all such possible schemes redundant.

"From now on," he announced, "The six-to-eight restriction on inter-dormitory visits is removed. I have asked the prefects to monitor activities carefully, looking out for signs of coercion or undue influence by the older on the younger. However, at the end of the day, we are not a police state and it is up to you to control yourselves."

At last. Freedom had been restored as in the old days. But unlike the old days, gay sex was on the agenda. Euan glanced at Dennis, who was smiling as though he would never stop.

But stern old Professor McGonagall was not satisfied. She called a meeting in the common room and told everybody that inter-dormitory visits would be restricted to one year above and one year below.

"Prefects are to police this with stairway patrols and dormitory visits, and eject any disqualified people."

Dennis Creevey had burst into tears and loudly proclaimed: It's not fair!

There were murmurs of approbation. Professor McGonagall reddened and stomped out of the common room.

Euan felt very angry. He was okay up to a point, but what about other boys—those lovers separated by more than one year? McGonagall's refinement went against the spirit of Dumbledore.

That evening, Peter Jones announced that he was moving into Caerwen's bed on a permanent basis.

In the dormitory, Euan and Paul agreed to sleep together every night, as did James and Alexander—with the agreed proviso that occasionally James and Paul would swap places so that Euan could satisfy James' newly-found manly appetites.

Perhaps life wasn't all bad, thought Euan, as he fell asleep with Paul Smith's head on his breast.

18

The next morning—Monday—Euan awoke with the sensation that something was wrong.

Whatever was wrong, it certainly wasn't in this room. He was lying with his head on Paul's breast. He looked over and saw that James and Alexander were in a similarly friendly position.

It wasn't until he went into Professor Darrington's classroom at half past eleven that Euan realised: Adam—no, Adrian—had described the perfect set-up for concealing Houlihan. He must see Adrian at lunchtime.

He didn't do himself justice during the lesson, but Professor Darrington wasn't too tough on him.

At the end of the lesson, he hung back to speak to the Professor.

"Don't say a word," he said, "Anthony Houlihan confided in me—"

"I told him—" snapped Professor Darrington, in some alarm.

"Never mind what you told him. There isn't time. This is important. Obviously you've got to hold tons of Dickie Darrington Polyjuice about; but have you got any pure, original stuff?"

Darrington nodded.

"Right," said Euan, "Carry two doses about with you at all times."

Darrington nodded, and said: "How do I know you are what you appear?"

"There's no time to have doubts. Just do it."

Euan about turned and marched through the door, leaving the Professor gaping.

After lunch, he buttonholed Adrian.

"Adrian, can I have a word?" he asked.

They went out on the lawn and found a quiet corner.

"It's about that place you told me about yesterday—you know: where your loonie friend hangs out."

"Oh yeah," said Adrian, "What about it?"

"Well, I've got a friend—an adult friend—who needs to lie low for a bit. Do you think they'd have him."

"I don't know. I suppose so."

"Good. I'll let him know. What's the address?"

"Keep it secret, won't you."

"Of Course."

"Well, it's in Bow . . ."

Adrian gave Euan the address, and Euan went to the library to make his plan.

Fortunately, after lunch on Mondays was a free period for second-years. Euan thought through his plan with great care.

Yes, that should do!

He composed his message tom Iona and ran to the Owlery, to send it by Express.

Then he caught Professor Darrington between lessons and asked him to wait in his classroom until he returned.

His next lesson—the last of the day—was Transfiguration. He tried hard and was on his best behaviour throughout.

That evening, he cornered Colin, Dennis and David Ward, a long-haired fourth-year, and explained that he would have to hide overnight in the Maths cupboard while everyone thought he had Flooed to London. He should reappear in time for morning break, but if he was delayed, would they keep him going with food.

They agreed and thereafter all Euan could do was wait.

At last, just after eight, Filch appeared and asked Euan to go to Professor McGonagall' office.

"Oh Euan," she said, "There's some bad news. Your grandfather has taken a turn for the worse and your sister thinks you ought to visit him."

"Yes Miss."

"Are you close to your grandfather?"

"Yes Miss."

"Well you'd better Floo down for the night. You can use my fireplace."

"Yes Miss. I'll just go and get my stuff."

"We'd better send someone with you. I don't like the idea of children Flooing on their own—especially at this time of night."

"I'll be okay, Miss."

"No, Euan. We'd better send a prefect, er . . ."

"Please Miss: can Colin Creevey go with me? He's my friend, and he's in the fifth form."

Professor McGonagall smiled, austerely.

"Very well. If you'd suggested Dennis Creevey, I would have had to think a bit longer."

"I'll go and get him, Miss."

Euan ran back to the common room and convened the same three people: Colin, Dennis and David.

"Change of plan," he told them, "McGonagall insists I need company, so I've asked for you Col. That means you've got to let someone else Polyjuice your body and hide yourself in the Maths cupboard until it's all clear."

"Okay," said Colin, "What now?"

"Yeah, come on. David, tell the prefects that my granddad's ill and I'm going to visit him with Colin as my minder."

"Will do," said David.

"Come on, Col," said Euan, and the boys raced to the Mathematics room.

He knocked on the door and a voice called Who is it? It was not Professor Darrington's voice.

"It's Euan."

Dr Houlihan let them in and locked the door behind them.

"Who's this?" he asked.

"Professor McGonagall wants me to have some company so two of us have to go. Get the Polyjuice out."

Dr Houlihan got out the Polyjuice. They decided the safest bet was to use some of Colin's pubic hair. They mixed the potion and DR Houlihan drank it. Thank heavens, it worked.

"Coo!" said Colin, seeing his double in front of him.

"Come on!" said Euan.

He and Dr Houlihan left the room, hearing the door lock behind them. They hared down to Professor McGonagall's office.

"Here we are!" he said, "You want Queen's Gate," he told Dr Houlihan.

He heard Dr Houlihan call out the correct Floo Station, and followed him.

19

Euan walked out of the fireplace at Queen's Gate into the arms of Mark Chumeridge.

"What's going on Euan?" asked Mark.

"It's all safe, Mark," said Euan, as the two of them hugged, "I'm just spiriting away someone."

Dr Houlihan emerged, in the guise of Colin Creevey, and Euan told him: "This is my brother-in-law, Mark; then, to Mark: "But I won't introduce him, Mark, as he's all Polyjuiced up."

Before either of the other two could say a word, Euan told Dr Houlihan: "Get back on the Floo and ask for Quite Near Bow London—that's Quite Near Bow London."

Dr Houlihan obeyed.

Euan said to Mark: "Don't worry. It's all safe. I'll be back in less than an hour."

Then he re-entered the fireplace and told the System: Quite Near Bow London.

He arrived in Stratford High Street and was relieved to see the figure of Colin waiting for him.

"We're only half a mile away, Colin," he said, "We'll find somewhere to hide out until you change."

It turned out that their target house had a still-leafy buddleia and a cotoneaster shrub in its back garden, which offered a good hiding place.

"We'll wait in there," whispered Euan, "Don't say a word."

Their hidey-hole was next to the back-alley.

During their stay amid the shrubbery, a woman entered the house, then a man and a woman separately. The man was Indian. Euan assumed this was the character who had so amused Adrian.

At last Dr Houlihan changed. As Euan watched, he gained nearly a foot in height, and morphed into a six foot six, two hundred and eighty-pounder, with a face blacker than his own arsehole.

Euan knocked and heard a voice call Who is it?

"It's a friend of Adam, who was your guest last summer," said Euan.

The door opened. Euan and Dr Houlihan entered.

"Who's this big fellow?" asked the girl.

"This is Ian Wilson," said Euan, "He's on the run and would like to hide out for a few weeks."

"Come through, and we'll see what people say."

People were quite accepting—especially when Dr Houlihan slapped a grand on the table as his initial contribution to house funds.

"I've got to go now," said Euan, "Mr Wilson, I'll give your son your address, but we should route all communications between you through my own address, which I'll give you."

As he was scribbling out his address, a grey-haired man, who appeared to be the nearest thing to a leader that the establishment possessed, said: "It's getting late. I'll go back with you, Euan."

"There's no need, thanks," said Euan, "I can look after myself pretty well." This was indeed the case when it came to Muggles.

"I must insist," said the man, "At least I'll see you onto a tube train."

"Let me do it," said the Indian, "I'm used to going about on my own now."

"The last time you went out on your own, you got lost," said the grey-haired man.

"I didn't get lost; I was in a parallel universe."

"Alright, Gil. But I'm going too,"

Everybody talked at once.

While the commotion was going on, there came a knock on the back door. One of the women went out and let in a pale young man.

He stood at the door listening to Gil defending his position. Then he spoke: "I'll go with Euan," he said.

Euan looked at him. How did he know Euan's name? No-one had mentioned it.

He looked closely at the pale young man. He'd met him before.

"Come on Elf," said the man.

Nobody called him Elf any more. The only person who might still know that name was . . .

"LUKE!" shouted Euan, "It's okay everybody. We're old friends. Come on, Luke; let's go."

He shook hands with Dr Houlihan and the two old friends set off for the Floo Station.

"We've got to make a quick call on the way," he told Luke.

"I can't believe this. I wondered if you'd gone to Hogwarts, but I didn't dare ask Noun—I mean Adam," said Luke.

Euan laughed: "It's Adrian now," he said.

"How are you getting on. I mean what's the news? Who's that darkie?"

"I should be asking you a lot of questions. Can you stay the night?"

"After six years? Yeah, of course."

"Then we've got plenty of time. Tell me about yourself."

Luke told Euan the truth: the whole truth, including the years of prostituting himself to wizards and Muggles.

"Sounds good fun!" remarked Euan.

"Sometimes it was," said Luke.

They reached the Floo Station and went to Pinner, where they found Professor Darrington's flat.

They knocked at the door, which was answered by an anonymous-looking lady—presumably the Professor's wife.

"Can we speak to the Professor please?" said Euan.

"I'm sorry, he's out," she said, but put her fingers to her lips and beckoned them in.

They found the Professor in his study.

He repeated his wife's finger-to-lips gesture and wrote something on a parchment.

Euan read: Hello Euan. How pleasant to see you. How can I help?

Euan wrote: Dr Houlihan has been rescued, so you must go to Hogwarts tomorrow AM. Do not let anyone see inside your cupboard. Colin Creevey is there until he is relieved by me—should be mid-morning.

The Professor wrote: Polyjuice, I suppose?

Euan nodded and wrote: This chap is Luke he's just a friend. Dr Houlihan is living under the name Ian Wilson. Letters for him will arrive here please forward them. Also letters from him. He is at . . .

Professor Darrington nodded his understanding and the lads waved goodbye.

Then it was the Floo to Kensington, and a glorious reunion with his sister.

"Tell me all about it," said Iona, over coffee and biscuits.

Euan gave Iona and Mark a full summary.

"So you're Luke," she said, "Euan told us all about you. He's never forgotten you. It just shows Euan: you're kindness to the Houlihans generated good Karma, and Fate rewarded you by reuniting you with your old friend."

"I don't know about that," said Euan, and yawned.

"Bedtime!" said Iona, "Luke you can have the spare room."

"Bollocks!" said Euan, "Luke's sleeping with me!"

They went into Euan's bedroom. Euan kissed the sleeping Staffa.

"He's grown," he said, "Even in three weeks, he's bigger. Now come here, you!"

He went up to Luke to cuddle him, but Luke stepped back.

"Oh no!" said Euan, "You're hetero."

"No, not at all," said Luke, "It's just that I'm tainted. I can't be your friend after all these punters."

"Oh Luke! That doesn't matter in the least. The punters were just a way of earning a living. With you and me it's— well, it's the real thing. Anyway, I've got some unfinished business with you—and I'm developed enough to carry it out.

Euan reached for Luke, very slowly, in case he wanted to move away again. He didn't. He touched His hands to Luke's cheeks. He cradled his face.

He reached for Luke, who bent his head to meet him. He pressed their foreheads together, but nothing else. He was afraid of hurting him, afraid of overstepping a boundary he couldn't see.

Luke looped his arms around Euan's neck and brushed his lips over Euan's. Stars flickered behind Euan's eyes. Euan put tentative arms around his waist, thin and V-shaped. He palmed the knots in his spine, the slope of his back. Everything inside of him came to life as it never had, as if he'd only been half alive all along.

Euan knew that they belonged in each other's arms.

"Clothes off!" he commanded.

"Euan, I . . ."

Euan ripped off his clothes and, laughing, started undressing Luke.

Naked they flopped onto the bed.

"I see you're pleased to see me," laughed Euan, grabbing hold of Luke's erection, "It hasn't changed a bit."

Luke's penis had a huge glans supported on a thin stalk.

They pressed their lips together and started kissing—gently at first; then with increased passion.

Luke's hand found Euan's penis.

They rubbed each other off. It was just like the first time with Scott Fong. But now—Euan couldn't believe it—it was with Luke. He was actually having sex with Luke!

As he came, kissing Luke hard, Euan felt the splash of Luke's wetness on his body.

They lay still for a few seconds, then got into bed.

Euan had bumming in his mind, but the day had been full of excitement and no sooner had he made himself comfortable, with his head on Luke's chest, than he was asleep.

He woke up to a tremendous shout of EU-AN! followed by the patter of feet and Staffa jumping onto him.

After uncle and nephew had kissed and cuddled for a few seconds, Staffa ran to get his picture-book.

He snuggled up to Euan and spelt out C-A-T, D-O-G, C-O-W and a few other creatures. Then he noticed Luke.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"I'm Luke."

"He's a friend," said Euan, but Staffa was a little shy and squeezed up against Euan more tightly.

"Let's get dressed and get some breakfast," said Euan.

All three lads dressed, Euan and Luke concealing their rock-hard stalkers—definitely the right word in Luke's case.

Then they went to the kitchen for breakfast.

It was over all too quickly, and Euan had to kiss the three Chumeridges goodbye—two of them to Iona's work, which had a crèche; and one to the Floo HQ.

"I'll fiddle your return journey so that it looks as if two of you went back," said Mark.

"That's an unexpected bonus," said Euan, "It's as well to be safe."

When they were alone, Euan said: "We've got until ten thirty, let's get to know each other better."

They went into the bedroom and took their clothes off.

"I want that up me NOW!" said Euan, and Luke obliged.

Then Euan sniffed Luke all over.

"You smell nice," he said.

"I keep myself clean," said Luke.

"Now we've found each other, we mustn't lose touch."

"No; you write the first letter."

"Will do," said Euan.

At ten twenty, they had a last kiss and Euan Flooed back to Hogwarts. He made his way from Professor McGonagall's office and waited outside the Mathematics room until the lesson ended.

"Hi," he said to the Professor; and the same to Colin, inside the cupboard.

"What's it all about?" asked Colin.

So Euan told him.