A/N: This story was inspired by the movie "A Feast At Midnight," 1994, starring Freddie Findlay, Christopher Lee, Edward Fox, and Robert Hardy (Cornelius Fudge of the HP films). The boy in the banner is Freddie, from the film. Our hero here is his descendant, Magnus VI, about 125 years later. If you've never seen the film, do rent it soon! It's great.

From the film: "scoffing", verb: to cook up a meal secretly at night and eat it with friends. "Scoffer" – one who scoffs. A play on the name of "Scoffier".

Potter Beyond

Episode 2

"Egg-citing"

Magnus Scot Gove VI, named for his great-something-grandfather, had lived in Godric's Hollow for all of his near-eleven years. And his middle name had only one "t", and it was fine to address him as "Magnus Six", thank you very much. If there was one thing about the mixed Magical-Muggle village that Magnus had long since discovered, it was that it was incredibly dull. Nothing ever happened in Godric's Hollow. The only thing that had ever happened, the old villagers would tell him, was back in 1981 or so when the gas main had ruptured at a rather nice home at the outskirts of town and blown it to bits. Sadly, it had killed the family who lived there. The skeletal wreck was still inexplicably standing, too, Magnus knew. And no one could tell him how or why. Perhaps it was the overgrowth of ivy holding it up? But he'd seen it. He'd gone into it.

And he hadn't stayed in it for long.

As soon as he'd set foot on the front door step, he'd heard the most awful scream and seen an explosion of green light that had frightened him so badly that he'd peed in his pants. Had he not been sneaking through the side hedge, and gone in properly through the front garden gate, he might have known what it was that he'd seen. He might have seen the graffiti scrawled all over the sign that would have appeared to him. He would have read all of the century-old words of encouragement to Harry Potter.

Young Magnus Gove, you see, was a Wizard.

He just didn't know it yet.

Magnus was a very serious boy from a long line of Muggles. Of course, Magnus didn't know what the term "Muggle" meant, because as far as he was concerned, wizards were something that one saw in videos about fantastical realms of wonder where dragons sat upon mounds of treasure and were served by beautiful women while devouring the knights who came to rescue them. Witches were nasty old women who flew around on broomsticks at Halloween and kept little children in cages, fattening them up to roast them for dinner later. With a side of small potatoes and carrots, an onion, and perhaps a stalk of celery, thank you very much. A bit of sea salt, a dash of chef-style black pepper (not that sneezey, dusty stuff), and served with a medium red wine with melted butter for dipping one's carrots.

For Magnus was also, you see, a budding young chef. It was the family tradition. Ever since having been expelled from Dryden Park Preparatory School for Boys, the first Magnus Gove had instilled a love of fine food in all of his descendants, and Magnus VI was no exception. He had learned the art of cooking from his father, who had learned it from his father, etc., all the way back to Magnus I, who had learned it at the Scoffier School in Paris. Magnus VI was also a "Scoffer", a pun on the name, as the original Magnus had dubbed his fellow "chefs" back in the 1990's.

They were the oddballs, or so his father had told him. It was a story that he'd been told many a night at bedtime, about how the first Magnus had been so very miserable at his new school. His father had been ill, perhaps even critically, and his mother had been away in Paris at work. She'd been a high profile French fashion photographer, and really (or so the story went) not much of a mum. Dropped in a strange school with no friends, worried to bits about his ill father, Magnus I had then found that the school was out to starve him. There wasn't any good food to be had. In fact, most of the meat was made of tofu. Everything was low-fat and bland, and his once-a-week reward of a chocolate bar was usually confiscated and halved by the resident bully, Bathurst and his lackey, Mee.

All in all, Magnus I had been miserable. He didn't play tennis, he didn't play cricket, was rubbish at cross-country running, and his Head of House, one Major Longfellow, had hated him from the off. All this on top of being perpetually hungry.

And so it was that Magnus had bonded with one of the other boys, a fellow outcast of a small boy with glasses who played piano; Green Minor had been his name. Very soon thereafter, another friendless boy – Oberoi, part Asian and somewhat plump, had joined them in their fantasizing about decent food. Thus had been born the "Scoffers", and they would sneak into the kitchens at midnight and prepare the most wonderful of treats for themselves, eventually drawing in everyone but for Bathurst in Magnus I's year.

Magnus VI smiled at the thought of his favorite bedtime story. He'd been thinking about this all day long as he'd wandered the town, spring having come exceptionally early. It was around the Easter Holiday, and young Magnus found the idea of living far away (as some children he knew did) in a stuffy old boarding school for nearly the whole of the year to be abhorrent. He couldn't imagine being separated from his mum and dad that long, even if they did annoy him to bits sometimes.

For instance, Magnus' father, Magnus V, found no end of amusement in his young son's tales of wonder about the seemingly mundane village. He laughed when the boy had once insisted that the war memorial at the center of the town square was actually a statue of a man and woman, the woman with a small child in her arms. It was a statue of the Potter Family, Magnus told him the dedication plaque read; the family that had been killed in the gas explosion back in the 1980's.

"Silly boy!" His father had laughed, "Why would we have a statue to honor an ordinary family from one hundred fifty-odd years ago?" He'd asked, taking his son's hand. "It's in honor of the end of the Great War!"

And that was when the statue had transformed, replaced by a common war memorial that one might see in any village square that had had young men and women give their lives for the cause.

But when Magnus' father released his hand, the statue was back, the man winking at him.

Magnus VI thought he might be having hallucinations, you see, because the statue and the old wrecked cottage weren't the only the odd things that he'd seen in Godric's Hollow. He'd once found a dropped sack of candy outside the local sweets shoppe, Honeyduke's. There had been a chocolate frog in the bag, and it had hopped away when he'd tried to eat it! There was also a trading card in the wrapper, which he still had. It was five-sided, and there was sometimes (not always) a picture of a dark-haired man with glasses and a scar on his forehead. The man had green eyes, he looked as if he really didn't want to be having his picture taken, and his name was "Harry James Potter".

Magnus had heard that story, too. Everyone had. Harry Potter was something of a legend in the village, but no one was really sure that he was real. Legend said he was born there, and some said he'd been blown up in the gas explosion. Well, some of the old and oddly dressed villagers would tell the boy that he was indeed real, as everyone knew everyone else and there was no such thing as a stranger in the Godric's Hollow. Harry Potter, you see, was the greatest hero of all time. He'd taken down someone called "The Dark Lord", and saved the world back in 1998. That, and he was still out there, somewhere, always ready to strike down evildoers.

Or was he? Magnus' father scoffed at the whole idea, saying that no one lived to be so old. The card seemed to confirm this. Harry Potter, if he were even real, would have to be nearly a hundred fifty years old.

And why was it that only the oddly dressed old folks seemed to believe the story?

There had also been a lollipop in the paper bag, something called an "Acid Pop". One tentative lick, however, had burnt the tip of the boy's tongue and he'd promptly thrown it away. This had not deterred Magnus VI however, because the seals were all intact, as was the receipt dated for that very day. That had been two weeks ago, and he was chewing the third piece of a five-pack of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum that seemed to last for days. He was quite fond of something called the "Ice Mice", too, once he'd learned to not let them get away as the frog had done. The Peppermint Humbugs were delicious. And the jellybeans? Well, one had to be careful with the beans. Whoever this "Bertie Bott" was, Magnus soon found out, he or she MEANT it when they said "every flavor". The liver-bean had nearly sent Magnus into spasms.

But Magnus didn't mention his bag of wondrous treats to anyone else. Not after he'd gone into Honeyduke's, and found nothing of the like on the shelves. Of course there were chocolate truffles, nuts, ordinary candy bars, nougats, gum, and sweets of the like. It was a small shoppe, however, and Magnus wondered why the building was so large on the outside, then? In fact, he'd gone there uncountable times to buy sweets in his life, and he'd never noticed anything odd before.

Then there was the odd coin that he'd find on the ground on rare occasion. He had a few bronze or copper (he couldn't decide which) ones that were like pence. He had a silver one nearly like a schilling, and two gold ones that were unlike any coin he'd ever seen before. They were almost like a crown, but different. He'd once taken a silver one that he'd found outside of the candy shoppe in there, and clerk had presented him with enough Beans to keep him in an agitated state of wonder for weeks. The coins, Magnus imagined, must have high value? So he held onto the rest, especially after his mum had deemed them "play money" from some game.

So it was, on that oddly warm and sunny holiday, that Magnus VI found himself again bored and wandering the village in his mud-spattered Wellingtons. Many of the local children, as Magnus himself feared, did in fact go off to some far-away school for most of the year. He'd been heartbroken last September first, when his best mate, Daniel Tristan Birken, had gone off excitedly – if not cryptically – to attend this mysterious academy. Magnus missed him terribly, as there weren't that many children in the village to begin with. In fact, his whole school year could have had class easily in his own kitchen. Daniel's departure had, in fact, left him with no one to scoff with – unless his father woke up.

Magnus was thinking about his kitchen, naturally, as he wandered about town with his dog. Being a talented young chef, he was going to adhere to tradition and make a surprise birthday treat for his father. He thought he might go by the bakery for some inspiration. He stopped at the statue again, where the lady smiled at him and the baby waved to him. He blinked. They were still there. His dog attempted to pee on the statue. The man nudged him away with his foot. An owl swooped down from the sky and lit on the statue-man's head. He laughed silently.

"Magnus!" A voice called.

Magnus turned on the spot. Daniel was back from school! Now, maybe, things wouldn't be so dull!

Magnus blinked. "Is that your uniform?" He asked, taking in the black trousers, the black traveling cloak trimmed in yellow, the neat white shirt with a black and yellow tie, and the shining yellow crest of the cloak that bore the image of a badger and the word "Hufflepuff". Magnus looked down. Daniel's dress shoes weren't muddy at all. "What's a 'Hufflepuff'?"

"You can see it?" Daniel gasped, giving the dog a pet, "Well that's just bloody brilliant, Mag!" The one-year-older boy crowed in delight. "It's the name o'me House, at school!"

"Looks rather…archaic?" Magnus wondered, taking in the robes, "But quite nice." He then looked around. "I'm making something special soon, you up for some scoffing, mate?" Magnus whispered conspiratorially.

"Ah, gimme a day to settle in, can you?" Daniel begged off. "I just got back from Kings Cross, you know. Bit too tired to scoff." He looked up at the statue, and bowed his head in respect.

"You can see the family?" Magnus asked, perhaps too pleadingly.

"Of course I can! Always have! It's the Potters, you see. Jus' so used to it, never thought to mention it. You can see it, too?" Daniel smiled.

Magnus nodded.

"Well c'mon over, then!" Daniel laughed, and off they went. The stone Potters watched them go.

They'd spent the day at Daniel's, where Magnus noticed quite a few more odd things he'd never seen before. That same owl was perched near Daniel's bed, sleeping. Daniel's shoes never got muddy, dog hair didn't stick to his cloak, and he seemed to take great care with a stick of some sort that he kept in his pocket. Magnus could have sworn that he saw dishes in the kitchen sink washing themselves, and Daniel had some of the odd candy like he'd found. He even insisted that Magnus try on his black hoodie with gold sleeves and the same badger crest. It was a big large.

"I got a Harry Potter card in a frog wrapper," Magnus decided to risk it.

"Oh, I got about a dozen o'him," Daniel waved it off, "I'm looking for a classic Remus Lupin, not a reissue!"

But no matter what kind of odd things he'd seen and thought to mention, none of them surprised Daniel. Magnus, however, was simply too happy to have his friend back – even it was only for about two weeks, to press the issue. They had an otherwise wonderful visit, until Magnus had to go home for dinner.

"I'll owl you, so we can make that surprise dish!" Daniel promised.

"Owl me?" Magnus wondered.

He got his answer the next day, just as the sun was going down. That same owl he'd been seeing around the village swooped through his window as he was getting ready for bed and dropped a letter on it. It was addressed to "Magnus S. Gove VI, 2 East Plum, Godric's Hollow, the smallest bedroom." Magnus found that an odd way to send mail, but the letter promised that Daniel would be by 'round midnight for one of their clandestine cooking events. Scoffing.

They made a Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte for Magnus' father's birthday, which for Magnus, wasn't all that difficult. With the leftover batter (Magnus had upped the recipe), they made a small one to share.

"Back at school, the House Elfs would have done this," Daniel commented, "But this is amazing! Pity there's not cooking class, what?"

Magnus didn't say a thing. He simply nodded. He knew what it felt like to have almost everyone think you were barking mad.

That next morning, Magnus V praised his son highly. "You're going to be just aces at the Scoffier this fall, son!" He promised. "Have to brush up your French, you know!"

Magnus' stomach dropped. "Oui," he mumbled to himself.

All too soon, Daniel was back at school. He'd left so early one morning that Magnus hadn't even had a chance to see him off. So resumed the routine of school in Godric's Hollow, mentally cataloging all the odd things he'd see, and trying to do some research on this Harry Potter bloke from his trading card that was the stuff of legend.

All in all, to the Muggle eye, Magnus VI was just another boy with his dog.

"Potter? He's just that, a local legend that the old folks like to keep alive," Magnus V told his son. Magnus VI hadn't shown him the trading card, and he didn't plan to. It was disturbing enough that the daft old lady far down the way, just outside of town, had gone all to bits when Magnus and his mother had gone visiting to check in on her and purchase eggs. Magnus thought that she must be nearly two hundred years old, and all her friends in the world were her hundreds (so Magnus thought) of chickens and a few odd cats. Unwittingly, Magnus had pulled one of the odd gold coins from his pocket and handed it to her to buy the eggs.

The result had been a tearful and bone-jarring hug, surprising, from one who looked so old and frail. Then she'd given him back the coin, smiling, and offered him a chocolate frog when his mother wasn't looking. "Maybe it'll be Harry Potter on the card again!" Magnus said excitedly, ready to catch the frog.

"Mind those eggs, son!" His mother called after him. "We mustn't annoy Mrs. Longbottom, now! C'mon, then!"

"I'll tell you about Harry Potter sometime," Hannah Longbottom promised him.

But it wasn't Harry Potter on the card, when Magnus studied it late that night. It was someone by the name of "Ronald Bilius Weasley". He was ginger with bright blue eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and every now and then, he was biting the end off a regular candy bar and looking out of the frame as if fearing he'd be caught! He was, the card said, Harry Potter's best friend and fellow Auror.

"Auror?" Magnus wondered, as he drifted off to sleep.

Days turned into weeks, summer was approaching, and the few letters from Daniel that came by owl only heightened Magnus' curiosity. He couldn't wait for June. He became obsessed with this "Harry Potter", and would sit for hours listening to the old people talk about him. He didn't understand all of what they were saying, and it seemed as if he always had to begin the conversations by pointing out something odd that he'd seen.

For instance, he'd insisted to Mrs. Longbottom (on a trip to buy eggs) that he'd seen someone fly over town, riding a broomstick! It was just like a witch on a Halloween decoration, he told her. And from that moment on, mysterious old Mrs. Longbottom had become like Gran-Longbottom to Magnus. He looked in on her as often as he could, gathered eggs for her, delivered chicken feed and cat food to her, and would sit for hours by the fire listening to her tales of magic, Dark Lords, some place called Hogwarts, and a terrible war which Harry Potter had brought to a close.

She even came to scoff with him a few times a week, but how she got there, Magnus had no idea and it would have been rude to ask.

All of these things, Magnus shared with no one. Not even Daniel. He never mentioned a word of it to his parents. They'd have never believed him.

But Magnus wasn't sure how much of it to believe himself. They talked about magic as if it were real, how it might burst out of little children without warning and cause strange things to happen, and how lovely it would be to be young and off to Hogwarts again.

"Perhaps that's why my soufflé reinflates, if it should fall," Magnus wondered, knowing that only a fraction of the delicate dishes could ever hope to be a success. His father, after all, had told him that a collapsed soufflé NEVER came back to life. "The soufflé will either rise, or it won't," he'd say.

So Magnus just kept quiet about it, taking note off all the odd things about the village, sometimes buying candy from Honeyduke's with the odd coins he'd find or that "Gran" Longbottom would sometimes give him, and scanning the skies for a glimpse of the legendary Harry Potter.

*
Daniel was due home for summer holidays in a week or so, and Magnus VI's mum's birthday was coming up before that. The boy was sure that they'd be able to pull off the most spectacular confection that Magnus VI had ever attempted: The Chocolate Charlotte.

But it wouldn't be easy, doing it alone. The recipe was very complex and would take most of the night. Magnus was thinking about this when he went to bed, hoping for a good night's sleep, as he'd be up for most of the eve of his mum's birthday. He had to get the Chocolate Charlotte done in time to chill, after all. And he'd have to prepare the pears on the side, too. They had to be fresh, or they'd go brown.

He was awakened by his dog at nearly four in the morning. Summer, it seemed, couldn't wait that year. The night was warm, but it was a while to sunrise. The moon was setting in the west, and Magnus VI was a bit surly about the whole matter of having to have a pee at that ungodly hour.

He heard a rushing wind, and looked up. The sky was dark, but in the glow of the streetlights, Magnus clearly saw a man riding a broomstick! He went zooming by, heading north, and as he banked about to avoid a tall tree, Magnus saw the face: glasses, black hair, green eyes reflecting the light! He even waved. In a twinkling, he was gone.

"Mummy! Daddy!" Magnus ran into the house shrieking, dragging his dog along behind him, "I saw him!"

"Go back to bed, son," the boy's bleary-eyed father called back, "It was probably just Father Christmas!"

"No! It was him! I saw him!" The boy insisted, and there was no doubt that young Magnus would get no more sleep that night. "I've just seen HARRY POTTER!"

His parents groaned.

"Maybe it was the Tooth Fairy?" The boy's father offered.

"I've not lost a tooth, and Father Christmas isn't about in summer!" The boy protested, stamping his bare foot.

No response.

Magnus went back to bed in a huff, but there was no more sleeping that night. It was going to make the production of his mother's present hard, but he managed to get a nap that afternoon. He was sure he was up for it, as he headed to Honeyduke's to procure the dark sweet baking chocolate and powdered sugar. He paid for it with a gold coin, he wasn't sure of the value, and received a handful of silver and bronze ones in change.

But as he turned to go, the store seemed to have more than tripled in size! There were shelves and shelves and bins upon bins filled with all of the strange sweets he'd found in the lost bag, or that Gran-Longbottom had given him before! The shoppe was enormous, and it was suddenly full of people that he'd not noticed before. Many of them, Magnus noted quickly, he didn't know – which was impossible for Godric's Hollow.

Magnus ran home, locking his bedroom door behind him. He thought about writing Daniel, but why? Daniel would be home in just a few days. Excitedly, he tried the mobile number. Daniel was unavailable.

"Get it together, Mag, old boy," he told himself, you've got a dessert to make for Mum!"

Later that night, Magnus' alarm sounded at 2AM. He got up, dressed, let the dog out, and then proceeded to the kitchen. He was just checking the heavy cream when he realized it wasn't cold enough. "Bugger!" He swore, and to his amazement, frost formed on the glass measuring cop. "Ohhhhhh-k," Magnus wondered, as he took it all in: 40-50 boudoirs (lady fingers), 1/2 cup kirsch, 8 ounces good quality dark sweet cooking chocolate, 1/4 cup milk, 7 tablespoons butter, 4 eggs (at room temperature), 1/4 cup powdered sugar, 1 cup heavy cream (well chilled). "Very chilled," he snickered.

Then he saw that he only had 2 eggs.

"Oh, bollocks!" He swore. "Well, there's no help for it," he decided, pulling a torch {flashlight} from the drawer. It was dead. He whacked it in anger. It came on. "Better," he nodded curtly, as he gathered up the dog and basket. "Gran Longbottom won't mind," he told himself, after all, the chickens knew him and cats don't bark. He could slip in, grab three eggs, just to be safe, and be back home in half an hour, if he jogged.

Magnus VI's first problem was that it was dark. Once he was out of town and out of streetlights, he realized that the moon wasn't much help. Neither was his dog, who wanted to run on and sniff. He turned on the torch. "Steady, old boy," he told himself, as he trotted on to Mrs. Longbottom's.

He was just coming up the lane to her cottage when suddenly, the dog stopped. He sniffed the air, whimpered, and took off back the lane. Magnus almost shouted at him, but the mission was too important – he had to have those eggs! Strange night noises be damned! Onward he went, the trees seeming to close in on him.

Creeping stealthily into the hencoop, he was greeted by a few clucks of protest at being awakened so early – even for chickens. He was just about to go, having taken four instead, when he heard it: a growl.

"Tha's not the bloody cat," Magnus fretted, switching his torch off. His eyes adapted to the darkness. In the dim moonlight, he could just make out a dark shape slipping around the edge of the hen yard. It was coming closer. Magnus stared. He thought it might be a werewolf, but – for starters, the moon wasn't full, and, secondly, there were no such things as werewolves. "It's just the dog," Magnus rationalized, "Come on, Blackie, c'mon! We've got to go!" He patted his leg and gave a soft whistle.

The chickens began waking up. A few began squawking in alarm. The dark shape lunged, and all hell promptly broke loose.

The shape charged at Magnus, snapping and snarling, and the boy realized at once that it was not his dog. It was black, very large, and its eyes burned in the darkness. Magnus waved his torch, which went out. The huge dog-wolf-shaped thing lunged, then growled. It began barking, snapping, and Magnus stepped aside and brought the heavy metal torch down on its head. The torch broke, spilling batteries. The beast stumbled. Magnus dropped his eggs, which broke. He made to run. He slipped in the eggs and fell into the worktable, right into the large basket of collected and washed eggs for sale. Eggs burst all over him.

"Bloody hell!" He shouted, looking around for something to use as a weapon. He saw a bucket, and slammed it over the beast's head. For a moment, the disoriented thing paused. Then it snapped its jaw, shattering the wooden bucket and coming at Magnus again.

Magnus screamed.

Then it was on him.

Daniel's forgotten hoodie was no match for the beast's teeth. The boy screamed again as it bit down on him, rolling him in the mess of eggs, straw, dirt, and chicken manure. Panicked birds began flapping around everywhere, then came a sound like a gunshot.

The beast was thrown back off the boy, slamming into the wall. It got back up, shook its head, and began shredding chickens in its advance. Feathers flew, as did dust, and Magnus choked for breath. His arm was bleeding where the thing had grabbed him.

"Merlin's pants, it's a Grim!" Someone shouted.

"My great-grand-something Uncle Bilius saw one of those once, and he died the next day!" Someone else yelled, as the night was illuminated by…what it was, Magnus didn't know.

Beams of light that sizzled through the air were being fired from sticks that the two men held like guns.

"Could be a Gytrash," the other added, as Magnus scuttled his way backward into the corner, panting and coughing and trying to find something to wrap his forearm.

"HELP!" He called.

"Shite, there's a kid in there!" One man exclaimed.

"I got him," the man who'd spoken about his uncle said, as he burst in and grabbed up the boy. "He's been bitten, Teddy!" He called.

This 'Teddy' began swearing, making extensive use of what Magnus called "the f-word" as he continued to fire on the beast, who had taken a great interest in the men. Finally, there was a burst of green light. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" He screamed, as the beast righted itself and lunged at Magnus and his rescuer one last time.

The green light hit it, and it fell to the floor, dead.

"I know you! You're Ron Weasley!" Magnus gasped, his injured arm forgotten as the ginger-haired man smiled and began conjuring a bandage for him. "You're on my trading card!"

"That's my Grandfather, depending on which 'Ron' you mean. I'm Arthur. Well, Artie Weasley, Auror. You OK kid, other than the arm?"

"I have to get some eggs," Magnus replied seriously, which made the other man, Teddy, look up. Magnus gasped.

Teddy's eyes were amber and he had fangs.

"You're a vampire!" Magnus accused him.

"No, I'm a werewolf. I only look like a Muggle-movie vampire when I'm excited," Teddy explained. "Teddy Potter, Auror. Pleased to meet you. What were you doing sneaking into Aunt Hannah's henhouse at this time of night?" He kicked the dead body. "Common wolf, or on-demand werewolf, best give it a minute and we'll see."

"There's no such thing!" Magnus disagreed, as Artie put him up on the table and attempted to clean him up a bit with a Spell. "You've got a wand-thing like Daniel's!"

"Kid, are you a Muggle?" Teddy groaned. "Please tell me you're not?"

"I don't know what you m- … OWWW!" Magnus cried, as Artie bumped him on the door on the way out.

"Merlin's knickers, what is going on out here?" Hannah Longbottom called, coming slowly down the way with a lit wand held above her head.

"I think his arm's broken," Teddy pointed out.

Hannah stopped. "I've been after than damn creature for days," she shook her head. Then she saw Magnus and nearly fainted.

"Erm, Teddy?" Artie asked, gesturing at the spot where the wolf had fallen.

There was a dead man laying here.

"Know him?" Teddy asked.

"No, you?" Artie asked Hannah.

"No idea, Magnus? Are you all right? What were you doing here?"

"I needed two eggs for mum's surprise," Magnus cried. "Please, sir, it hurts!"

Teddy gave his wand a shake and spoke into it. "Grandfather, I need you. We've got a dead rogue werewolf at the Longbottom place. A child's been bitten."

There was a loud CRACK! outside. Magnus thought it to be thunder. Then another man appeared in the wandlight.

"Holy crickets! You're Harry Potter!" Magnus gasped. "Just like my card! YOU'RE REAL!"

"Hang on, you know what chocolate frogs are?" Harry demanded.

"I buy them at Honeyduke's, and Every-Flavor Beans, too," Magnus sniffled. "Please, sir? My arm?"

"I need to take him, so I can summon Teddy Lupin," Harry said. "Maybe there's still time." He glanced at the body. "You killed him?"

"Had to," Teddy Potter replied. Harry grunted in return.

"Magnus is magical," Hannah put in. "I've known it for quite some time. I don't think he does now. He's only 10."

"Almost 11!" Magnus corrected her. "I'll be 11 in August!" He glanced at the body, too. "Whoa! It's jus' like the crime show!"

"Later," Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Boys, do something with that thing. An on-demand werewolf shape-shifter is just as bad a real one under full moon. I've got to get the boy treated, and fast. You ever Apparated, kid?"

"Huh?"

"Hang on," Harry ordered the starstruck Magnus, as he turned on the spot and vanished with him in a BANG!

Magnus vomited when he got his bearings again. He looked around, and saw that he was now inside someone's house. Harry Potter was placing him on a table, and cutting his ruined hoodie and shirt off with his wand.

"Is that a magic wand?" Magnus asked. "OWWW!"

"Sorry," Harry offered, as a door on the far side of the odd room burst open.

A very old man with a cane came shuffling in, and Magnus flinched. He had thinning gray hair, glasses, green eyes, and Magnus thought it must be Harry's great-something Grandfather, they looked so much alike.

"Summon Teddy Lupin, the original, NOW!" Harry ordered.

"What do you think this is, boy, a bed'n'breakfast?" The old man asked.

"Not now, Harry. This is a werewolf bite!"

"Shite!" The old man snapped, as he threw something into the fireplace. Green flames erupted, and Magnus gasped as he stuck his head in! A moment later, and a middle-aged man with blue hair came bursting out of the fireplace.

"Damn Clan MacLeod," Teddy Lupin snarled, pulling out a wand and giving a somewhat cleaned up Magnus a check. As he ran his wand over Magnus, his face fell. He turned to Harry and the old man whom Magnus hadn't identified yet.

"But what about my eggs?" Magnust protested, being ignored. "Is me arm broken, sir?"

"Yeah, worse than that," Teddy Lupin told him. "I can fix it, but…"

"Hannah said he was Magical, but apparently he doesn't know it yet," Harry grumbled. "I am too damn old for this kind of excitement!" He paused. "You're going to use Blood Magic?"

Teddy Lupin nodded.

"I'll drop the Wards," the old man nodded, pulling out a wand and waving it.

"Have you all got those, like Daniel, then?" Magnus asked, finding the whole thing to be a rousing adventure as Teddy cleaned his wounds.

"Daniel – Birken?" The old man asked. "You know him?"

"Yes, he's my best mate, well, until he went off to some school in Scotland, and lives in Hufflepuff House," Magnus explained. "It's all very odd. In fact, lots of odd stuff's happening here in town, don't you think?"

But Teddy Lupin had begun to mutter some strange words. He then rolled up his sleeve, then touched his wand to his forearm. It cut him open like a knife, and he continued to chant. Soft cyan light began to pour out of his wand, and Magnus saw his hair and eyes turn brown. He then pressed his arm to the boy's, and Magnus found that he couldn't move. He was frozen in place.

A tingling sensation began to spread up his arm. There was a sharp pain, and Magnus suddenly felt as if ants were crawling all throughout his innards. He gasped. He broke out in a sweat. Then he was freezing. He was sweating again. The room began to spin, he thought he was sinking into the table or melting, and then he blacked out.

"Did it work?"

Magnus groaned, opening his eyes slowly. His head hurt, his arm hurt, and he was nauseous. He saw that the room was filled with white light.

"Lumos lux Luna," The man who'd treated him was saying, holding his wand over a gray rock that seemed to be the source of the light.

"His eyes are yellow, pupils are wrong, and his teeth are sharpening," Teddy Lupin pointed out, his hair and eyes both blue. Magnus felt him touching his chest, patting his face, then examining his shins. "No signs of hair growth. No other signs of transformation. Bone structure's good. Looks like I got it all. Well, most of it," He smiled. "So what's your name, kid?"

"Magnus Scot Gove VI," Magnus replied. "But everyone calls me Magnus-Six!"

"Yes, I told them all about you while you were sleeping, dear," Hannah then spoke up.

"Gran!" Magnus cried. "I'm sorry! I was going to pay for the eggs!"

"You needed an egg at that time of night?" The old man asked coldly.

"I have to make a Chocolate Charlotte for me Mum! It's her birthday!" Magnus explained, "What time is it?"

"You make confections in the middle of the night?" Teddy asked. Then he shrugged.

"What IS all of this?" Magnus wondered, looking all around at the collection of bizarre artifacts, books, busted wands, and costumes and other keepsakes in glass cases.

"Thought you said he was Magical?" The old man asked.

"He is, Harry," Hannah reassured him.

"Hang on, he's not Harry! HE IS!" Magnus tried to point, but found his arm bandaged and in a sling.

"Wolfsbane cream and dittany, change the bandage every day," Teddy Lupin told him. "You'll have some scars."

"Cool! Who are you?" Magnus wondered. "Your hair…?"

"Teddy Lupin, Headmaster of The White Wolf Prep School," Teddy introduced himself. "Metawolf. That's how I was able to cure you in time, before the infection transformed you. Looks like you won't be coming to school with me this fall after all!" He laughed.

"You're lucky that Teddy found a treatment for werewolf bites, illegal or not," The man snorted. "So, who's gonna Obliviate his memory?"

"Please, sir? What time is it?" Magnus demanded again.

"Almost six," Harry told him.

"Oh, bugger," Magnus sighed. "My folks will be up, and I'll be so very grounded!"

"Not to mention your dessert?" Hannah smiled. "Why don't I come over and help you with that?" She offered, reaching into her shawl and producing some eggs.

Magnus looked at his arm. "I think you'll have to, Gran," he agreed sadly.

"'Gran'? I thought you and Neville's adopted brood were all near Hogsmeade?" Teddy asked.

"Is that near Hogwarts?" Magnus had to ask, wondering if he should tell them about all the odd things that he'd seen around the village. After all, they HAD just saved his life. "Hang on, you said 'werewolves' or something? There's no such thing?"

"Really? Then what just bit you?" Teddy laughed, as he changed form into a large wolf. Then he changed back. "I'm one of the good guys, relax," he assured the frightened boy. "And that man who helped save you? The one with the fangs? He is, too. He's even named for me; my Godson. You know, it's odd," Teddy then mused, "That bite wasn't that bad. It wasn't that hard to draw the poison out either. It was like his body was rejecting it, pumping it out. That wolf should have shattered his bones," he observed. "You do anything else strange, when you're upset? Things you can't explain, Magnus?"

"Artie and Teddy, Potter that is, said the torch he hit it with is melted," The old man added. "It would take some pretty heavy duty wandless magic to do that."

Magnus thought about it. "I…I chilled the cream when I touched the glass," he offered, and it was as if a light had come on over his head. "It was just like magic! And the pears, well, they weren't ripe enough, but when I picked them…"

"Hold this," Teddy Lupin offered him his wand.

Magnus took it, his hand shaking, and the room filled with warm orange light. "Whoooooa!" He breathed.

"I told you, Harry," Hannah began, but Magnus interrupted.

"Are you both Harry, then?" Magnus asked. "How?" He looked closely at them. He reached into his pocket for the card he carried with him all the time. "But Harry Potter is almost a hundred-fifty!" Magnus concluded, looking from the old man to Harry and back. "Blimey! You both can't be…no…you must be his Grandfather, sir?"

"Not quite," Harry laughed, as the old man waved him off, grumbling.

"Just take him home, before they launch a search," the old man grumbled. "The last thing you need is a sidekick."

Teddy Lupin laughed. "I think I'd best go along, Harry. Poor little Magnus is about to find out in the most exciting and different way that he's a Wizard! I think it might shock his parents!"

"I better go too," Hannah adjusted her shawl, stowing the eggs. "Soften the blow."

"I'm a … what?" Magnus exclaimed.

"You're a Wizard, Magnus – and a powerful one, too, I'll wager," Harry told him. "Now, since you tend to vomit if we Apparate, what say I fly you home on my broomstick?"

Moments later, and Magnus Scot Gove VI was laughing in delight as they flew east, into the sunrise. "I can't believe you're REAL!" He squealed in delight. "Everyone says you're a legend, sir!"

"You can just call me 'Harry', boy," Henry Griffiths sighed, holding tight to his young passenger, who was having the time of his life. "But you look awfully young for being a hundred-fifty?"

"That I do, kid, that I do!" Harry Potter laughed, as they landed at #2 Plum and dismounted. "Hurry on in, Magnus. Hannah's already here, and you've got a Chocolate Charlotte to make!"

Magnus burst into the house, shouting at the top of his lungs, "MUM! DAD! I told you! I told you he was real! Harry Potter's HERE!"

"Ohhhhh, boy," Harry sighed.

end