Gay Harry Potter-06-1-Colin, Lachlan and the Married Quarters Commando

by jerome1980

Gay Colin Creevey, his gay married friends and the first-year Lachlan Tibbs are helped by Russia-based gay Danny Jorrocks in resisting 2 more initiatives that Voldemort is aiming against Hogwarts. And Dumbledore, despite a cursed hand and a private agenda, has succeeded in crippling the boys' sex-lifes. This needs to be resisted too.

GAY HARRY POTTER-06-1-COLIN, LACHLAN AND THE MARRIED QUARTERS COMMANDOS

Contents

1. Lachlan Grows

2. Autumn Term at Hogwarts

3. The House of Slytherin

4. Lachlan by Day and by Night

5. Colin and the Commandos

6. Lachlan Goes Bum-watching

7. The Commandos Again

8. Lachlan Learns

9. Danny's Problem-Child

10. Lachlan is Gay

11. Colin Gives the Commandos a Mission

12. Lachlan Has a Sex-life

13. Danny at Hogwarts and Elsewhere

14. Lachlan Finds a Book and Some Bodily Substances

15. Colin and the Nine O'Clock Club

16. Hi Honeys, I'm Home!

17. Lachlan Explores Some Flesh

18. Colin and Six Happy Boys

—CHAPTER ONE— Lachlan Grows

On his sixth birthday, Lachlan knew that he was old; but how young had he ever been?

He remembered his fourth birthday. He supposed his father and mother must have been at work and the two girls out with friends, because there was just him and Aunt at home.

A nurse came in—a nurse like Mummy—and brought fruit, which Aunt put in a basket on the big table.

Oranges, apples, bananas; he must have eaten some, but his only memory was of the need to keep the whole basket to himself.

He had no other memory; no idea who had eaten the fruit, and when.

And later they had come to England; just he and Mummy, because Daddy was still working in Canada.

And they lived in the house above Mr Walder the grocer.

And every morning, Mummy took him to the Convent, and Mother Superior and Mrs Neville told him things.

Mrs Malfoy still sometimes told Mummy: Please don't send him to a Muggle school, Mrs Tibbs; and Mummy told her that he needs some darter before he goes to Wizard School.

And every afternoon, Mummy took him home from the Convent, or sometimes they took the Muggle bus to the big town and saw a film, which was much better than the TV.

But today he was six, and he was having a party with some of the village children, and Jane Palmer from the Convent, and maybe the big boy Draco from the manor—though Draco said it had to be secret because Mrs Malfoy didn't like him playing with Muggles.

They had Geography at the Convent, and Sister Michael told them Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie and Ontario. Then she made him point on the map where he had come from.

"Why are these called Great Lakes, Sister?" he asked, "My Lake is Great too."

"You lived on a bay, not a lake, Lachlan," she said.

"Is that because it's Down North?"

"It's because it's connected to the sea."

"But you said the Great Lakes are connected to the sea too."

"Ah, Lachlan, your bay is verily Greater because it's connected to the sea by God, and the lakes by man."

God.

He was always coming up at the Convent; that was because he was Everywhere.

Mummy had told Mother Catherine that Lachlan was a Protestant and was not to be told about God, but the Sisters talked all the time about him; and the Father taught them about catechisms and mortal sins and venial sins and the quick and the dead; and he went to the Service once a week on Wednesday morning.

He wanted to ask the Sisters if God had created the Magic world too, but he knew that, as they were Muggles, none of them would be able to hear him because of the Enchantment.

The only one who never talked about God was Mrs Neville. She told them the times tables and HTU, which was easy for adding, but hard for Subtraction.

Last Christmas she told them about her family which had a man called the King Maker, which was silly because everyone knew that Britain had The Queen.

After Sister Michael they had Reading.

Mother Superior told them it was Lachlan's birthday, and they all sang Happy Birthday before reading aloud about the Cat that Went to Sea.

At half past three, Mrs Palmer drove them home and they had the party.

They had running about games.

Draco was there and Lachlan won the wheelbarrow race because Draco could run as fast on his hands as anyone else could on their feet.

Then they had a feast with sandwiches and snacks and jelly and a birthday cake that he blew out all the candles in one puff.

Then they had quiet games, and Jane Palmer was where she said she'd be in the shrubbery behind Mr Walder's peach trees.

They showed each other their bottom bits.

Jane didn't have a dicky: she just had a slit, and there was nothing to look at, so he whispered her to turn round.

Jane had a big round bottom. It was nice to look at. He wanted to touch it, but didn't dare.

He didn't have long to look at it, though, as Jane turned round to stare at his dicky again.

He was getting bored, and when she stretched out a hand to touch it, he giggled and jumped like when the Doctor examined him.

He pulled up his pants and shorts, shouting let's join the others, and ran away.

Later he decided that all girls must be like Jane, and he thought how much better it would have been if it had been two boys looking at each other's dickies and touching them.

It would be nice to do that with Draco, but Draco was five years older than he was and was going away to Wizard School in September.

He thought of the boys at the convent. Six boys and two hundred girls.

He didn't like the boys much, but he liked Draco.

X

For some time Lachlan thought a lot about boys' dickies.

Even though the Beaver Cubs said you had to be pure in thought, word and deed, they didn't tell you what being pure meant.

If they'd said don't touch other boys' dickies, half the boys would have been at it all the time.

Lachlan would have enjoyed that.

Then he stopped thinking about dickies.

There were too many other things to do: apart from the Cubs and the Convent, Lachlan loved spending time at Malfoy Manor.

Mummy went up there every morning and supervised the house-elves in preparing the day's meat, fish and vegetables.

She did all the baking stuff and the sauce stuff herself.

Then she cooked the lunch and laid out the dinner pots, leaving careful instructions with the elves on how to cook them.

If there were important guests, or if there were complicated dishes, she went back for three hours in the evening—none of the elves could manage things like stuffed salmon, beef wellington or soufflés.

All in all, Lachlan spent a lot of time at Malfoy Manor, playing in the grounds or hanging about the kitchen.

Sometimes, Mrs Malfoy came into the kitchen and discussed menus with Mummy.

Lachlan couldn't understand how Mrs Malfoy could be so kind and friendly to the Tibbses and so horrible to the house-elves.

And the stuff she spouted about Mudbloods (that's a word you must never use, said Mummy) and blood purity was so silly.

Lachlan got more of this second-hand from Draco, who poured it out parrot-fashion, often prefaced with Mother says or Father says.

That was until he went to Hogwarts: after his first term there, he seemed to believe it.

His character hardened too, and he started bullying Lachlan.

One evening he told his mother: "Draco hit me today."

"Well, hit him back, then," she said, with her usual practicality.

The next time Lachlan saw Draco, he was crouched by a dead bonfire, looking at the ashes.

Lachlan gave him a big punch on the side of the head, and ran away as fast as his feet could manage.

He expected punishment, but the next time they met, Draco said nothing.

It turned out that Draco never bullied Lachlan again, and by the summer following Draco's first year at Hogwarts, they were as firm friends as a seven-year-old and a twelve-year-old could be.

"Did you have a birthday party this year?" asked Draco as they wandered through the High Forest one day.

"No, Mum took me for a weekend in London instead."

"Muggle bits or proper bits?"

"Both. We went to Diagon Alley and the Ministry Museum; and we went to a Muggle Theatre with singing and dancing—which reminds me: there were women dancing with just tiny pants on their bottoms, and you could see they didn't have dickies; and at my party—the one you were at—a girl showed me she didn't have one. She just had a slit. Are they all like that?"

"Yes, of course they are. Tell me about the girl at the party."

"We took our clothes down. It was OK for her. She had my dicky to look at, but I only had her bottom, and she only gave me a peep."

The memory came flooding back, and Lachlan said: "It would have been more fun if it was you."

"Shall we do it now?"

"Yeah."

Lachlan dropped his pants and shorts.

Draco, who seemed to be expecting an argument over who would show first, followed suit, and soon each was gaping at the other's dangly bits.

After a while, looking turned to touching, as they explored with their fingers.

They were like each other: there was a little dicky where you could pull the outside back for going piddle out of the purple end; there was a wrinkly bag with two hidden nuts inside.

Lachlan thought that he had much the better of things, as Draco's bits were bigger than his.

They played happily with each other for a while.

Then Draco said: "Do you want to look at my bum?"

"Oh yes please," said Lachlan; why hadn't he thought of that?

Draco turned his back and Lachlan looked at his bottom. It was not big and round like Jane Palmer's, but small, with straighter sides. Lachlan thought it was pretty—not pretty like Draco's face, but pretty in a sort of secret way.

He reached out and touched it.

He had once heard someone say that their lawn was smooth as a baby's bottom. Now he knew what they meant. He couldn't believe that a big boy like Draco could feel so soft and smooth; yet it was firm at the same time, as he found out by squeezing each half.

This was real fun, and he enjoyed feeling Draco's bottom all over: not just the soft-firm bumps, but the sides where it went bony; the bottom where it changed direction and became Draco's legs; and the top where it dipped into Draco's back.

He felt as though Draco was letting him into a secret mystery, just for the two of them: a mysterious world where boys were allowed to stand close together with their pants round their ankles; where dickies were meant to be played with as well as used for piddling; where bottoms were pretty, with an extra-special secret crack down the middle.

That was something else he should have thought of before: he reached out with both hands and pulled the two halves of Draco's bottom apart.

There was a little pinky-brown hole with creases at the edges.

He looked at it for some time. He wanted to touch it, but it was dirty and Draco would think he was disgusting. He wondered what it looked like when it stretched to let a lump of poo out.

Draco broke into his daydream: "Do you ever stick your finger up your bum?" he asked.

"I did once. It's dirty with bits of sticky poo-poo."

"It's not sticky when it goes hard."

Lachlan said nothing.

"You can stick your finger up my bum if you want," said Draco.

"No, don't want to," said Lachlan.

"Go on; it won't be sticky."

"No thanks."

"Please."

"No, it's naughty," said Lachlan, stepping back and pulling his underpants up.

No more was said, and the two boys went down to the lake and played at being Merlin and his Apprentice.

X

It was about this time that Dobby the house-elf started going odd.

Lachlan had always liked Dobby. He was silly, of course, but less silly than the other house-elves, and he had more interest in human-kind.

Lachlan and Dobby often talked about the legend of Harry Potter. The elf never tired of discussing the Boy Who Lived; and Lachlan spoke about his belief that Harry Potter had been saved for a purpose.

Lachlan had been thrilled to learn that Draco went to school with Harry Potter, but Draco never wanted to talk about him. All he would say was that Harry Potter was a useless, big-headed blood traitor. As soon as Draco mentioned blood, Lachlan knew that nothing he said about Harry Potter could be trusted: all the Malfoys and their relations were silly about blood.

Dobby too ignored Draco's views on Harry Potter and seemed to spend all his spare time muttering about him.

One day, to divert Dobby, Lachlan told him about the two occasions that he and Draco had played with their bottom bits.

"Master Lachlan must not tell Dobby about these things," he said, "Dobby will have to tell Master or Mistress if they ask."

Lachlan shut up: he knew that what he and Draco did would be thought naughty by the grown-ups. Draco knew this too: it's our little secret he said.

Lachlan changed the subject quickly: "Dobby, the other elves say you Apparate sometimes. Where do you go?"

"Dobby can't tell. Dobby mustn't tell," muttered the elf.

Lachlan could see that Dobby was distressed. He was twitching and clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails must be pressing into his palms.

Alarmed, he changed the subject again and told Dobby about St Patrick who was a slave for seven years before he escaped. Then he returned to the people who had enslaved him and made them Christians and got rid of all the snakes in Ireland.

"Does Master Lachlan think that Harry Potter escaped to get rid of all the snakes in England?" asked Dobby. Then, before Lachlan could answer, he ran off muttering Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!

The next day, the Malfoys returned from visiting relations in London.

At half past eight on the next morning, Draco did what he had never done before: he called for Lachlan at his house above the grocer in the Muggle village.

Without talking about it beforehand, they walked towards the High Forest, and Lachlan knew that they were going to play with their dickies and things.

He felt a sense of urgency in Draco and was very proud that such a big boy should need him, though he couldn't see why, as his dicky was so small.

One of the reasons was soon apparent.

"Back to school next week," said Draco, "And I don't want to leave here before I know what it's like having a finger up my bum. Please do it for me, Lachie, just this once."

"Okay," said Lachlan.

He head was spinning with the thought that Draco needed him more than he needed anyone else in the world; more than any of his posh friends and relations; more than the hundreds of boys—and girls, come to that—at Hogwarts; though some of them would be disallowed for being Muggle-born.

They reached their favourite spot and lowered their clothes.

They had just a quick look and play at the front before Draco turned round and stuck his bottom out.

"Wet your finger with spit," he said, "And push it in slowly; and mind your fingernails."

Lachlan ran his moist finger around the little, crinkled ring. It felt smoother than it looked. He felt excited at the knowledge that Draco pooed through there. For a moment he wanted Draco to poo on his finger.

Then he started on the real job: crouching, he positioned his first finger at the centre of the brown ring, angled the finger slightly so that the nail was preceded by the fleshy bit, and pushed gently. It was a good job he bit his nails.

At first, the whole ring and the surrounding area moved inwards, forming a little dent.

Then, the ring suddenly yielded, and he had to put on the brakes for fear of scratching Draco.

He paused, but Draco didn't complain, and he pushed further so that his first joint was inside.

It was tight—surprisingly tight, considering that this same hole which was squeezing his finger had to become big enough to allow great lumps of poo to be expelled.

He pushed his finger further until it was all the way inside.

He felt around: the inside was wrapped all around his finger, but it was not tight like the ring, and moved easily in any direction.

"Move you finger round and round," said Draco.

Lachlan did so, trying to favour the underside where his nails couldn't do any damage.

"No, the bottom of the finger . . . no, not twisting . . . in a big circle."

Lachlan got the idea, and slowly lapped the base of his finger around the brown ring, first in one direction and then the other. The ring was being stretched in every direction.

At one point, Draco gave a groan as of pain. Lachlan stopped at once. "You Okay?" he said.

"It's good! Don't stop!" muttered Draco, so Lachlan continued the good work, enlarging his circle when Draco called: Wider! Wider!

All this time, Draco's ring was behaving as though it had a mind of its own: for a few seconds it would tighten against Lachlan's, and then slacken off—so slack that Lachlan felt he could easily have pushed his whole hand inside.

And over and above this slow rhythm, Lachlan could sometimes feel a twitching and juddering around his finger—spazzums the Sisters had called it when that girl had had a fit in the dining room. She had peed herself in a gush. Once again, Lachlan visualised Draco pooing on his finger. There was a small, hard lump of poo up there already.

Draco had another idea: "Keep circling," he said, "and tickle the inside with your fingertip."

This turned out to be easier than it sounded: the circling was done with the elbow, and the tickling with the finger-joints. There was a touch of wrist in there too.

They continued like this for several minutes, with Draco occasionally groaning with what Lachlan knew was pleasure.

Then with a Yow! Draco said: "Stop! It's beginning to hurt."

Lachlan stopped and pulled his finger out.

"Yow!" said Draco, even more loudly, "You've nicked me!"

"Sorry, Draco."

But the little twinge was offset by Draco's appreciation of the ten minutes of pleasure that he had received beforehand.

"Thanks, Lachie!" he said, "That was brilliant. Let's do it again tomorrow."

Lachlan agreed willingly.

"It's naughty, though," said Draco, "Do you think we should be spanked?"

"No," said Lachlan.

He pulled his clothes up. He was frightened that Draco was going to tell the grown-ups.

"I made you do it," said Draco, "I should be spanked."

Lachlan said nothing.

"You'd better spank me," said Draco.

"Don't want to."

Draco bent over, stretching his hands so that he was nearly touching his toes. His bottom was very pretty.

"Come on; spank me," he said.

"I'm not going to get spanked," said Lachlan.

"No, just me. I'm naughty. Spank me."

Lachlan slapped Draco's bottom.

"Harder."

Lachlan slapped the other side of Draco's bottom quite hard. It was firm, and didn't quiver at all.

"Do it properly. Really hard."

Lachlan put all his strength into his third slap. It was loud. It must have hurt Draco.

"Again,"

Slap!

"Again. Keep on doing it; really hard and fast."

Slap! . . . Slap! . . . Slap! . . . Slap! . . . Slap! . . .

Draco was wriggling. Lachlan found himself enjoying hurting, Draco, even though he was his friend.

He went on spanking Draco, who sometimes said Harder!

Then he had to stop.

"Go on," said Draco.

"My hand hurts."

Draco's bottom was pinky-red all over.

Draco got up and pulled his underpants and trousers up.

"Don't tell anyone," he said.

"No," said Lachlan, and they went to skim stones on the lake.

Draco's last words before they parted were: "Same time tomorrow. Cut your nails and we'll see if you can get two fingers up!"

Later, Lachlan resolved that he would ask Draco to try a finger in his bottom. If it was really brilliant, Lachlan wanted to do it.

He wasn't keen on the spanking, though. He would tell Draco that fingers up bottoms wasn't naughty.

Then he had another, daring idea: he would ask Draco if they could watch each other having a poo.

There was some poo under his fingernail. He sniffed it: quite a pleasant, fusty smell; not at all like fresh poo.

X

It was not to be: Mr Malfoy was in a funny mood and kept Draco busy or absent until it was time for his return to Hogwarts. Then a few weeks later, Mummy and he moved to another part of the country, where Mummy took a job as Cook in a big Muggle house.

Lachlan still hoped that Daddy would come back, but Mummy said that he would be working in Canada for a while longer, and somehow, Lachlan knew not to suggest that they went to join him. Over time, he came to realise that his father was never coming back.

He heard Mummy telling the Butler and Nanny that Malfoy Manor was no place to bring up a child, though as they were Muggles, she did not mention house-elves or the Dark Side.

They had a private corridor to themselves on the top floor, with bedrooms for Mummy and him, and a sitting-room in between.

He regretted the lost life of dickies and bums that he had shared with Draco, but it drifted deeper into his mind as new experiences arrived.

Again, he went to a Muggle school: this time to one called a Church of England Primary School. Mother Superior had echoed Mrs Malfoy: "Please don't send him to a Council school, Mrs Tibbs."

But he liked this Council school a lot. He started in the third form under Miss Webb, and enjoyed the lessons. He got on well with the other boys and girls too. He had been a little worried about being thought a snob. In the village he had sometimes been teased by the local children for having, first an American accent, and then a posh accent.

But in this school, accents were about fifty-fifty: standard accents and local burrs.

At home he spent most of the time by himself, but didn't mind that in the least: he could explore the roads on his bike, or the countryside on foot; he could play with the dogs and cats; he could bounce his rubber ball against trees and walls and catch it or hit it with a cricket bat; he could sit dead still in the woods so that the birds and animals behaved as though he were not there.

And indoors he could read: there was a big library at home and a fairly big one at school; by the time he reached the fourth form, he was as knowledgeable about Muggle affairs as anyone in the school—and also as ignorant: he did not have an enquiring mind, and treated all learning—data, Mummy would have said—as he would a story that was being read to him, rather than as a basis for connections, analysis and further study.

And all this time, he had given no thought to his bottom bits; apart from enjoying going to poo, he had forgotten that the bottom bits could be used for interest, fun and, in Draco's case, pleasure.

This changed one night when, reading in bed, he noticed an odd feeling: it was pleasurable, but at the same seemed to call for some action. He noticed that his dicky was hard.

His dicky was hard!

He was nine years old, and suddenly it came to him that his dicky had been going hard and soft many times every day.

And he hadn't noticed it!

It had been just one of these things that you don't notice, like breathing or digesting.

He got out of bed and laid it on his desk.

He took the ruler: it was exactly four and a half inches long.

It was very hard, and when he tightened his bum muscles, it went harder causing more pleasure and a greater feeling of urgency, as though something needed release.

For a moment he wondered if release would come by cutting it off.

Then he thought that was silly: it wouldn't grow back.

In fact, release of a sort came when he went back to his book. His dicky went soft, but at the back of his mind there a sort of guilty feeling as though he had neglected to do something that he should have.

He wondered why his dicky should behave in this weird way.

Then he wondered whether every boy's dicky was the same. When he and Draco had been playing, he didn't remember either of them going hard . . . or had his gone hard when he was spanking Draco?

Then, as happens when children are faced with unknowable matters, the topic dropped from his mind for a whole year.

X

In the fifth form, Lachlan was the star of the school: top of the form; captain of sports; friendly to everyone.

But not deep-down friendly: Lachlan was a real loner, and had no close friends. It didn't help that going to school took four bus rides a day, and among the few cottages within a mile of his home, the only boys of his own age were not suitable for Lachlan to pass any time with without going mad: friendly enough, but with less intelligence than the average sheepdog.

Another thing: his thoughts were his own, and he was not sure that he would ever want to share them with another human.

As a shadow of this mental characteristic, he hated physical contact: when boys and girls kissed each other, as very occasionally they did, he was repelled and embarrassed; it was even worse when he saw boys walking together with the elder having a protective arm around the younger.

He accepted that in some distant future, he would have to kiss a girl and marry her; but then, in some distant future, he would have to die, and it was no good thinking about these things now.

For the moment, he bore ill-will towards no-one, and a sort of vague good-will towards everyone. He was happy on his own, but could enjoy chatting to other people, though these people must have sensed that they weren't getting the full Lachlan.

His inwardness gave Lachlan an extra attractiveness to his school-mates: an aura of mystery; a sense of underlying unhappiness; a wish to serve him somehow.

And, perhaps, what attracted people above all, it was his apparent humility: no boy in the school had greater grounds for pride and arrogance; and no boy put on less side. Everyone was treated honestly and fairly—when he bothered to deal with them.

The truth was that he didn't care enough about other people to want to boast; also there was the knowledge that he would be starting at Hogwarts from zero—perhaps less than zero, as his only serious exposure to magic was from the Malfoy establishment.

Although Lachlan had no real friends, he had a sort of Set: the boys who kicked a ball about during most dinner times.

One day, for some unknown reason, they weren't kicking a ball. Four of them were hanging about in the dense bushes at the north-west corner of the big playground.

For another unknown reason, they were talking about how babies came into the world, and had their dickies hanging out their flies: four white worms, swinging loosely as the boys gestured.

Brian Gurney and Roger Nichols were debating; Lachlan and Keith Gillespie were listening. [Annalist's note: there are two Keith Gillespies in this record.]

"It can't be true!" said Roger.

"It is! Everyone knows it is!" said Brian.

"But why would anyone want to do that? Imagine doing it to one of the girls. Or Miss Webb."

"Or the cooks," said Lachlan, and everyone went Yuch!

"They do it because they want to make a baby inside the woman," said Brian.

"How do they get their dicky up her peehole," asked Roger.

"It's not her peehole; she's got a bloody gert hole. Got to be big 'cos the baby's got to come out it."

"My sister's only got a little peehole inside her slit. She showed me."

"She don't get a shaghole till she's a Teenager. It's called a fanny."

"It's true then what I told you, isn't it? You just puts your dicky inside her gert fanny, an' you rubs it, an' it squirts cream from your nuts into her fanny an' then she has a baby."

"Nine months later."

"So why does everyone make a fuss about it?"

" 'Cos it's nice doing it," said Keith Gillespie.

"What you mean nice?" asked Brian.

"You don't just put it in," said Keith, "You rub it for hours and hours, and it feels good. It's really tight."

"How can the baby come out if it's tight?" asked Brian, supported by the other two.

"It comes out another hole that only appears when the baby's ready—either that or it comes out her asshole or her belly-button, I'm not sure which."

"How do you know all this?" asked Brian, suspiciously.

" 'Cos I shagged a girl."

There was a sensation at this news.

"Was her fanny tight?" asked Roger.

"Yeah, it was squeezing my dicky all round."

"How did you get it in, then?" asked the still-suspicious Brian.

"You can when it's hard like this."

There was another sensation. Keith was hard.

Lachlan was entranced: Keith's dicky was just like his, but smaller.

Women were totally forgotten as the boys peered down to look at Keith's dicky, and feel it.

The other boys all got hard too, and they all felt each other's dickies. Roger's was nearly as long as Keith's; Brian's was only two inches—scarcely bigger than when it was soft—but it was now as hard as the other dickies.

"So when you're shagging," said Keith, "her tight fanny rubs you like this."

He pulled the loose skin backwards and forwards over the purple tip. The other boys did the same, though Roger's loose skin was narrow at the tip, so they never saw his purple bit.

"It feels nice, doesn't it?" said Keith, and they all agreed with him.

"When does the cream come?" asked Brian.

"We're too young," said Keith, "So we can shag girls without making them have a baby."

They continued their pleasant rubbing until they were interrupted by the bell.

Dickies were tucked away and forgotten about for the rest of the afternoon.

X

On the way home, the old boneshaker bus made Lachlan hard again.

He thought back to his few days with Draco and resolved to make Keith Gillespie his friend and to do the same with him, with the enhancement that feeling soft dickies would be replaced by rubbing hard ones.

Also, bum-fingering would be done turn and turn about.

And perhaps Keith would agree to them watching each other pooing.

As soon as he was alone in his bedroom, Lachlan got his dicky out and started rubbing.

Even though he was only going slowly with a gentle grip, it soon felt dry and uncomfortable. He realised that it needed oiling like the bits on his bike, and intuitively realised that he had a good source in his mouth.

Spit did the trick, and his rubbing felt good again.

The strange, new feelings of pleasure were back—delightfully enhanced by an awareness that he was being naughty; that grown-ups wouldn't approve.

He gripped more tightly and rubbed harder, and things got better and better.

He wouldn't have believed that he could experience all this.

Then things happened quickly: his head started spinning, he felt his entire middle area throbbing and lurching and there was an explosion of ecstasy—so great an explosion and so great an ecstasy, that he wondered whether he had fainted.

Taking stock, he found that there was a slight ache somewhere between his bum and his dicky; and some slight chaffing on the sensitive knob at the end of his dicky; otherwise, just a feeling of happiness.

He sat looking out the window for ten minutes, then decided to see if it would happen again.

As soon as he thought about this, his dicky obediently rose, the urge came back, and he started rubbing.

The second time round, it was brilliant again—not quite as intense, and lacking the ingredient of surprise, but still brilliant.

The Keith Gillespie plan went in the bin: Lachlan didn't want to share these feelings with anyone else—even a boy with as nice a dicky and as spectacular a track-record as Keith.

So Keith Gillespie never knew how close he was to becoming the best, and only, friend of the most popular boy in his Church of England Primary School.

X

Lachlan's last year at Muggle school brought him more and more success: he represented the local area which carried all before it at football and cricket; he was Head Boy and top of the sixth form; and above all, he took first place in the national Lloyd George Scholarship exam.

This last was an initiative by the Ministry of Magic to encourage the more intellectually gifted of each year's eleven-year-old witches and wizards to attend Hogwarts—home education was too popular among the intelligentsia of the wizard world for the Ministry's liking.

Scholarship candidates were not tested in magic—of which some had little or no experience—or even magical aptitude, but in Muggle subjects; this needed co-operation with the Muggle Civil Service, who administered the exam under the impression that the children were aiming to attend Muggle schools called Horris Hill and Eton College.

"Well done, Son," said Mrs Tibbs, "Full fees, a two-hundred Galleon kit and textbook allowance and a hundred Galleons a term!"

"That's the full whack, Mum. How did we manage that?"

"It's because we're poor."

Mother and son laughed their heads off: true, Mrs Tibbs was paid a pittance, but they lived rent-free in a warm, luxurious mansion; they consumed the finest food in the country—also free of charge; even their clothes were posh hand-me-downs that had only been worn once or twice; and unofficially, fags and booze were also freely available.

"Don't tell your father," said his mother, "He's stumping up for the lot too."

Lachlan was disappointed—not because he wanted to boast, but because he always had trouble thinking of things to say in his monthly duty-letter.

For his last term at the Muggle school, he was able to coast, spending his time reading classic novels and history.

He liked a good story, but in both real life and fiction it was always spoiled by the axiomatic assumption that the most important thing in the world was love. Lachlan knew different: as far as he was concerned, the most important thing in the world was enjoying oneself, without getting too tied up with other people.

And enjoy himself he did: of course, some days were better than others, but he could always rely on his dicky, and rubbed himself off three or four times every day.

He was a bit apprehensive about sleeping arrangements at Hogwarts. He knew he would be in a dormitory and didn't fancy taking his supreme pleasure with other boys in the room. Apart from his innate desire for privacy, he sometimes couldn't stop himself making funny noises when he came to his climax. He knew, though, that a resourceful boy like himself would be able to work something out.

Through the year, he partook in most of the children's activities, but never joined the boys who went off occasionally for a secret show and feel and rub together.

He had one bit of sexual education, however.

One evening, he was wandering in the steep wood opposite the church, rejoicing in the smell of wild garlic, the twitter of the birds, the squirrels in the treetops and the stoats on the ground.

He heard voices, and tracked three bigger boys. They were aged from fourteen to seventeen, and they were sharing a bottle of cider.

They perched on the ground, and Lachlan crept up to a nice clump of ferns from which he could see and not be seen. He couldn't hear, though, as the boys were talking in mutters, which was no loss: they were all local boys, known to Lachlan, and he knew when they were pronouncing a word of more than two syllables because of their faces screwing up with mental effort.

Their conversation, if such it can be called, was punctuated with laughter of the particular type that men use when talking smut—talking about women, to be precise.

They finished the cider, and threw away the bottle, smashing it against a tree.

Bastards! thought Lachlan.

Then came a pleasant surprise: they stood up and took out their dickies.

Lachlan could only see two of them: they were hard and slightly smaller than his own.

There was a kind of fuzziness: it looked as though big boys grew hair round their dickies. He had seen hair in armpits, and this looked much the same. He knew that men's armpits smelt and wondered if their dicky region smelt too. Then decided not: men's smells always came from their upper bodies.

The three boys started to rub their dickies in the same way as Lachlan.

There was no talking now: they were lost in their internal worlds—again like Lachlan—their eyes unfocused, their breathing heavy, their hands pounding quickly.

One by one the boys stopped.

Lachlan thought he had seen something glint through the air. That must be the cream that Brian had talked about.

The boys hadn't squealed or moaned or grunted or made any of the in-between sounds that Lachlan made. That was bad news: perhaps it stopped feeling so fantastic when you started producing cream.

The boys went off, talking more loudly now that they were doing nothing guilty.

When the coast was clear, Lachlan hurried over to where he thought he'd seen the cream. He found a couple of tiny bits of moisture and touched the bigger one with his finger. It was slightly sticky. He raised his finger to his nose and smelled the usual wood-floor smells . . . plus something extra: a sharp smell that he didn't recognise at all.

He wiped his finger and hunted for a stick.

He dug a little hole and carefully buried all the bits of glass.

He went home and had a good rub; then another: he'd better enjoy it while he could.

X

When the letter from Hogwarts came, Lachlan was drawn in three directions: a fear that he'd turn out to be a useless wizard; a fear of being surrounded by other people; and an eagerness to enter the new world.

He had another trip with his mother to Diagon Alley.

They went early to avoid the rush, and both of them enjoyed buying all the exciting things that were needed for Hogwarts.

It so happened that Lachlan was one of the last people to buy a wand from Mr Ollivander before he mysteriously vanished.

"The wand chooses the wizard," Mr Ollivander said, and Lachlan knew that his wand had definitely chosen him: it seemed almost as if the wand were gripping his hand rather than the other way about.

He named his wand Crusher.

Selection of an animal was more of a problem: Mrs Tibbs was keen on an owl, as that would make communication between mother and son easier.

Lachlan was quite keen on an owl himself, and they'd jointly earmarked one in the Owl Emporium but thought they'd take a look in the Magical Menagerie, just in case.

There were all sorts of animals, but Lachlan's eye was drawn to a small white cat asleep in its cage.

"If he knows his name, he's mine," he told his mother.

He turned away from the cat and murmured: Papyrus!

At once there was a miaow, and the cat was reaching a paw through the cage towards him.

"We'll take it!" Mrs Tibbs told the witch behind the counter.

They successfully transported Lachlan's kit back home via Muggle vehicles: Mrs Tibbs' magic was not too rusty to render her incapable of the basic size, weight and visibility charms.

When he could, Lachlan went for walks with Papyrus—the latter as aloof from the local cats as his owner was from the local boys.

In the evenings, Lachlan dived into the Hogwarts textbooks, which enthralled him—especially as they did not have soppy love at the centre of everything.

The summer holidays came: Hogwarts in six weeks; until then, plenty of time to walk the cat and read the textbooks.

Lachlan needed variety, though, and sometimes took buses to the seaside. He taught himself to swim by watching what the holiday-makers did, and rejoiced in his freedom in the new medium. Soon he would be on a broomstick, and conquering a third medium.

One evening, after a day spent at the biggest of the local resorts, Lachlan realised that he'd foolishly forgotten to have a piddle in the sea before emerging from it. He had ten minutes until his bus went, so decided to empty his bladder in the public convenience on the seafront.

He didn't like piddling in company at all, but especially detested this place: it was ill-ventilated and smelled of shit.

Phase one was okay, as the place was empty. Phase two was no worse than usual, but he pushed hard to drain himself and get out as quickly as possible.

He had just reached the shaking stage, when a cubicle door opened and, out the corner of his eye, he saw two people came out.

He turned to look at them. There was a boy of his own age and a much older man.

When they saw Lachlan, they appeared flustered and practically ran out of the building.

Lachlan was a quiet mover. The pair in the cubicle must have thought the place empty, and hoped to sneak out undetected.

Father and son, Lachlan decided, leaving quickly himself.

He went to the rock stall and bought a toffee apple.

He walked towards his bus stop, giving the toffee apple its first licking, and saw the boy from the convenience waiting at another stop.

"Hello," said Lachlan, seeking to while away the minutes until his bus came.

The effect was startling: the boy blushed and stammered: "Er . . . Hello."

Lachlan was annoyed with himself: he'd departed from normal practice and talked to a stranger; and just saying hello had upset that stranger.

As a step towards extricating himself without causing offence, he decided to show the boy that he was friendly by keeping the tone light.

"Where's your father?" he asked.

The boy became even more flustered: "M-my f-father?" he said.

Lachlan decided that he was a pretty boy, despite his rather horsey features. And his eyes were of a beautiful green that Lachlan had never seen before . . . no, wait: it was the green of the young oak-sprigs in springtime. Oak was his favourite tree.

Lachlan's bus was coming in.

"Well, the bloke you were in the cubicle with," he said.

The response was unbelievably amazing: the boy fished out a ten-pound note from his pocket.

"Here. You can have the money," he said, offering the note to Lachlan.

"That's alright, thanks" said Lachlan, "My bus is in."

As the bus pulled away, he looked down from the top deck to where the boy was resolutely not looking up.

Strange, he thought, people so hard-up that they have to save five pee by having a shit together; and so rich that they can fling ten pounds away.

Then he had the answer: it was fear of prosecution. Gentility it was called: he'd read about it in Victorian novelists. What a silly boy. Nobody was going to prosecute for a stolen five pee.

Having settled the mystery in his own mind, he promptly forgot about it—H-day was imminent. An unknown new world—except he might meet Draco, if he was still going to Hogwarts.

Then it came: a goodbye kiss to Mum; Platform Nine and Three-quarters; and he was sitting on the Hogwarts Express racing north.

He was in a compartment with two girls and a boy—first-years like himself.

The other three talked nervously and excitedly, but Lachlan sat, with Papyrus on his lap, reading until it was time to get off—detrain was the military term, he remembered.

At Hogsmeade Station, they were summoned by a huge teacher: Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!

—CHAPTER TWO— Autumn Term at Hogwarts

Saturday night was bedlam at the Creeveys.

Parents and children were scouring the flat, trying to make sure that everything that was needed for the two boys' return to Hogwarts was loaded into their big trunks.

The latter had to be unpacked and repacked several times.

Colin and Dennis slowed things down through their conviction, in the face of all the evidence, that they could manage things better with magic than could Mrs Creevey with old-fashioned Muggle artistry.

At last they were done, and could sit down in front of the TV.

Joan and Geoffrey were allowed to stay up late, but at eleven o'clock all four children were sent to bed.

Teeth were brushed, pyjamas donned and the door of the boys' bedroom locked.

"Let's have a wank!" said Geoffrey noisily.

Geoffrey was extremely precocious when it came to sex, and since he had learned that Colin and Dennis frequently fornicated with many boys, including each other, he had been nagging his brothers for the hottest fun possible.

The elder boys had decided that Geoff was too young, but promised to reconsider at Christmas, by which time he would be ten years old.

Kissing was allowed, though, and that was what Geoffrey was requesting now: wank was not wank, but WANK, Geoffrey's code for Wet And Noisy Kissing.

Colin had explained that a wank was also what Geoff's hand did during most of the day, and he must on no account use the word, in either of its two senses, at his Muggle school.

Dennis led the way, and was soon locked in a tight embrace with Geoffrey, hands roaming over heads, backs and buttocks; but not underneath the pyjamas, and most definitely not the front bits.

That's what you said straight boys had to go through with their girlfriends! Geoff would expostulate; to which Colin's answer was always: Wait until Christmas!

When Geoffrey and Dennis had to come up for air, Geoffrey waited until his panting had lessened before barging his lips against Colin's.

As the two boys hugged each other, Geoffrey began what he called Dentistry, that is to say, the enumeration of Colin's teeth with his tongue.

He methodically found each tooth and licked it all over as far as possible, before going on to the next one.

This procedure—truly Wet and Noisy— was accompanied, as usual, by Geoffrey pressing himself hard against Colin's penis.

On this Saturday night, Colin guessed that Geoff would think he'd hit the jackpot: Colin's testicles were very full, and Colin knew that, in less than twenty-four hours, he would be having high-intensity sexual intercourse with Dennis and . . . perhaps his ex-dorm-mates, Mrs Neil and Mrs Harris . . . with a bit of luck, his boyfriend, Alexander. Perhaps Seamus Finnigan, the randiest boy in the school, would join in.

Colin's erection gained an extra notch on the Muggle Moh's scale, and his body jerked, the hard bump under his pyjamas pushing his little brother away.

"Sorry, Geoff," he said, "I try not to get excited but sometimes it's hard!"

Geoffrey forewent his usual Coo! and grabbed Colin's penis with both hands.

"Let me see it, Col!" he said, "Go on; I've never seen it when it's stiff and I won't talk about it at school. Promise!"

Not altogether unreluctantly, Colin stuck his willy through his pyjamas.

This time there was a loud and heartfelt Coo!

"Let me see it properly," said Geoff, "Take your jarmies off!"

Before Colin had time to think, Dennis had whipped off his own pyjamas and was standing next to him.

Colin didn't have the heart to say no: it wasn't as if he were setting a precedent, as it would be sixteen weeks before he saw Geoff again. Besides, the sight of Dennis standing next to him had given him such a hormone-rush that he knew an immediate orgasm was compulsory.

He was still unbuttoning his Pyjama top when Geoff, totally in the nude, continued the masturbationary activity that had been previously been taking place with a hand slipped down inside his pyjamas.

Then the three boys stood in a triangle, looking like an illustration culled from Stages of Genital Development in Teen and Pre-teen Over-sexed Boys.

There was darling Geoff, with his sweet four inches of willy; darling Dennis, hairless but with a proud five-incher: and Colin himself, six and a half inches of man, dripping pre-cum.

And thicknesses pro rata.

Before Colin could begin to wank himself, Geoff had again jumped the gun, and commenced operations on his biggest brother with his free hand.

It was a beautiful, loving brotherly scene.

Colin wished that the fourth brother, Danny Jorrocks, could have been there. Apart from the emotional aspects, Danny's willy fitted exactly mid-way between Dennis's and Colin's.

As usual, Dennis was the first to come, letting out squeals and groans as he wanked a respectable volume of ooze out of his willy.

Then it was Colin's turn.

Geoff had a beautiful touch, and Colin felt an extra-special joy as his spurts arced through the air, most of them splattering Geoff's chest.

Geoff was too breathless and excited to say anything, but his eyes were wide with wonder and happiness as he wanked himself off to completion, accompanied by sound effects worthy of Dennis.

Then, of course, it was time for WANK; and they didn't even bother discussing the sleeping arrangements: how could they not sleep naked, cuddling each other in the big bed?

As they lay in the dark, with Geoffrey in the middle, his brothers explained the mysteries of cum, pre-cum and clear cum; and how Dennis was able to accept with pleasure the presence of Colin's monster in his bumhole.

The talk about sex had aroused all three boys again.

Geoffrey murmured: "If you like Col's, Den, try it with mine up you."

But suddenly it was morning and they had to rush to get to King's Cross for the Hogwarts Express.

X

On the train, Colin had felt a little lonely.

His boyfriend, Alexander Bell, was with the other Gryffindor second-years; his brother, Dennis, was oscillating between his girlfriend, Mandy Brocklehurst and his fellow third-years; his other brothers were in Birmingham and Russia.

And with Colin were his gay friends Sea Jay, Jonny, Adam and James—so gay were they, that they constituted two married couples, and would never be as close to Colin as they had been before.

Sea Jay and Jonny would still be up for anything, but Adam and James had promised each other to stick to sex within marriage.

That would be hard for Adam, Colin knew: he had been a terrific ram—particularly of the younger boys.

They had talked about married life during the early part of the journey, but now Colin homed in on a hot topic:

"What do think of sex, James?" he asked the ugly boy sitting opposite to him.

"Oh Colin!" said James, "It's wonderful, of course; but it's so special doing it with the one you love, with the boy you're going to spend the rest of your life with. I'm so glad we waited until we were married."

Colin suppressed a grin: he liked the we: he could have named a dozen Hogwarts bums that had been graced with the presence of the Watts penis over the last twelve months. Plus goodness knows how many more that had been kept secret.

The door opened and bluff, ruddy-faced, nearly-bearded Derek Rath came in.

"Ahoy, me hearties," he said, "I thought I'd come and see how she sits amidships; Hufflepuff cabins are practically deserted. Jimmy Millar's in one heads with Ian Berry; Wayne Hopkins is exhibiting to four boys in another; and James Buckley has been locked in with Lee Shepherd for half an hour. And the perverts are at it too."

By the perverts, Derek meant mixed-gender couples, who could scarcely touch each other in sex-mad Hufflepuff without triggering Alarm Charms.

"You can understand the perverts," said Sea Jay, "Making hay, you know?"

"And the gayboys must have been going short over the hols," said Colin.

"Not like you I'll be bound, Colin," laughed Derek, "Or our newly-weds."

"It's brilliant," said Adam, "Good wedding wasn't it? Have you seen Adrian since?"

"Alas, no," laughed Derek, "But I did two weeks of Navy training and my stern locker was still feeling him at the end of it."

Derek had been multiply dosed with eight fat inches of Adrian Pucey on the wedding night.

Derek laughed again: "And you two weren't around to comfort me, were you."

Adam and James had spent the first two days of their honeymoon in their bedroom, opening the door only to accept meals and Muggle protein drinks.

"I suppose after Adrian you'll have to ship Cadwallader and Hopkins aboard," said Jonathan Neil-Harris.

Yet again, Derek laughed his rollicking laugh: "Size isn't everything, as you very well know, and for which I'm grateful; and I've got my eye on a rather sultry Ravenclaw fourth-year, with the trimmest bum you've ever seen, who showed signs of interest last term."

"Good luck," said Adam, "If it's who I think it is, you'll be lucky to get his eyes to lift from his textbooks, let alone his cock to lift towards your arse."

"The joys of the chase!" said Derek.

At this moment Dennis turned up, then Alexander, and a little later Caerwen Morgan and Peter Jones.

"We're missing Euan and Tintin," said Dennis.

"Euan's with the girls," said Alexander.

"And Tintin's with the girls too," giggled Caerwen, "Talking about stockings and cosmetics."

"I don't think Euan's doing that," said Alexander.

They all squeezed together and talked about the wedding until it was time to change into their robes.

X

The Great Hall was filled with the deafening sound of students catching up with their friends.

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger looked worried.

"Where's Harry?" shouted Colin.

"We don't know," said Hermione, "He was on the train."

"Don't worry about Harry," said Ray Kelly, "He's probably got into another of his scrapes; but he's got Golden Balls, and there's always a handy Deus ex Machina to rescue him."

"What's that?" asked Dennis, and had to have it explained.

The rear door opened and Professor McGonagall led in the forty new first-years.

The two Lifers and the Creeveys huddled together. They were going to assess the talent and give each boy marks out of ten.

"If there was a blue one, we'd have a snooker set," said Colin; and there was indeed a fabulous range of skin tones.

Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and spoke: "A warm welcome to our new students. May they find happiness and success at Hogwarts. Now, straight into the Sorting!"

The Sorting Hat gave a bow before reciting a little poem explaining the history of Hogwarts houses, and exhorting new and old students alike to unite in the face of the enemies.

Professor McGonagall read the first name:

"Absalom, Scott!"

A boy with fair hair, but a dusky complexion, rose and walked nervously up to the Hat, before putting it on.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted Hat, and little Scott trotted towards the loud cheers coming from his new house-mates.

"I give him ten," said Jonny.

"Ten," said Colin.

"Ten," said Dennis.

"Ten," said Sea Jay.

This little ritual was the four boys' proclamation that every boy was attractive.

Scott Absalom was followed by:

"Abu-Arefeh, Ahmad!"

All around the hall, there came a murmur of Arab.

"Ten," said Dennis.

"Ten," said Colin.

"Ten," said Jonny.

"Ten," said Sea Jay.

Ahmad was sorted into:

"SLYTHERIN!"

Procedures continued, with every boy scoring ten out of ten, and every girl being ignored, until:

"MacKenzie, Callum!"

An electrifyingly beautiful little blond made his way to the Hat.

"Please let him be in Gryffindor!" said Jonny.

"Ten!" said Colin resolutely, and the other judges agreed.

Despite their hopes, the Hat took very little time to think before deciding:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"I don't give his botty a week in Hufflepuff!" said Sea Jay.

Colin felt sorry for the next student, who was bound to seem a bit of an anti-climax after the unbelievable Jamie.

But the next student was:

"MacKenzie, Jamie!"

The identical twin made his way to the hat, duly obtained ten out of ten, and was duly sorted into:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The cheers from the Hufflepuff table died down and the sorting continued.

The next moment of interest came with:

"Tibbs, Lachlan!"

A tall, mousey-haired boy, with a pleasant, self-contained, confident face strolled up to the Hat and put it on his head.

Then there was silence.

More silence.

A long silence, eventually broken by a murmur around the hall.

After one of its longest thinks ever, the Hat decided:

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin crowd cheered their heads off: evidently the Hat thought that Lachlan Tibbs was something special, and it was obvious that a special boy belonged to a special house.

The last to be summoned was:

"Young, David!"

"He's coming to us," said Ray Kelly, who had been counting.

And indeed, the fairish-haired, middle-height boy was allocated to:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat was taken away by Mr Filch and the food arrived.

With full mouths which sprayed bits of chicken and chips around, they discussed the new intake before moving on to consider the staff table.

There were two new faces here: a fat old man who would presumably be teaching Defence Against The Dark Arts; and an interesting-looking young man.

The Creeveys knew that this was Harry Potter's boyfriend, Damian Fay, but had to keep their earlier meeting with him secret.

"What yer reckon, Mrs Harris?" asked Sea Jay, peering at Mr Fay.

"Pretty fit, Mrs Neil," said Jonny, "He can bang his bollocks against my arse whenever he wants!"

Lavender Brown had heard this, and whispered: "He'd have to get through me first!"

Then Harry Potter turned up—in quite a scruffy and bloodied state.

"Found your Dear Sex-machiner, Harry?" shouted Dennis, but Harry didn't hear him, and only Ray Kelly responded with: "It's pronounced MAKKiner."

By the time the meal ended, they had two more topics to discuss: Professor Dumbledore's withered arm, and Snape's surprising appointment as Professor of Defence Against The Dark Arts.

Colin spent the evening sitting next to lovely Alexander.

They agreed that they would spend Friday night together.

It was Colin's year for O.W.L.'s, and he couldn't afford to be sleepy during his lessons.

Sea Jay and Jonny were hors de plaisir for the next few nights, as they wanted to have their beautifully-refurbished Married Quarters room on the ground floor to themselves.

Colin had hoped that Seamus might oblige him with a quickie, but Seamus was only interested in Harry Potter.

Dennis was keen and insistent, though.

"I really need a good seeing-to, Col!" he said, so Colin agreed to slip down to his dormitory at midnight. As long as Dennis didn't wake him for seconds or thirds in the middle of the night.

He went to bed before ten o'clock.

It felt strange living with just two boys—both heterosexuals—in the dorm, but he was soon asleep.

He was woken, however, not by his Wizard Alarm, but by an awful noise: sirens like Muggle air-raid alarms, police cars and ships; bells like Muggle police bells, church bells and door bells; and over all, a screechy female voice demanding: All students to the common room . . . All students to the common room . . . All students to the common room . . .

He looked at his watch: it was just after eleven-thirty.

As they walked down the stairs, Ray Kelly and Stewart Appiah discussed, not the possibly threatening events that might have caused the alarm, but its nomenclature: was it a charivari, or a katzenjammer, or a cacophony?

Ray was a new prefect and should really have been taking things more seriously.

Colin noticed that the Gryffindor fourth-years—the four members of Danny's old dorm—turned up late and breathless. One of them, the freckly, nearly-tubby Stephen Buckell was sporting a big, fresh love-bite on his neck. Colin smiled at this evidence that Danny's standards were being upheld.

Professor McGonagall addressed the assembled students:

"I must ask you to forgive our oversight. Professor Dumbledore failed to mention that, as part of the necessarily-increased security measures, attempted egress from a dormitory after a student has retired there for the night will result in the cacophony (Told you so said Ray) that we have just suffered. Dormitory curfew ends at six o'clock in the morning.

"It appears that there were multiple breaches of procedure in Hufflepuff tonight, and I'm sure Professor Sprout will ensure that we can all enjoy unbroken sleep in the future.

"There is a second protective measure: access of students to dormitories other than their own is limited to the hours from six o'clock to eight o'clock. At all other times, there is a Shield Charm."

"Is that six in the morning till eight at night, Miss?" asked Dennis, "That would tie in nicely with the leaving-the-dormitory curfew."

"Judging by the quality of your work last year, Creevey Minor," said the Professor, "I suggest that you make use of the fact that the library is open, to visit it at six o'clock every morning. Now, goodnight to you all."

"Goodnight, Miss."

"I suppose we may as well try it," said Colin, when they reached Dennis's door.

But try as he could, Colin couldn't take one step inside.

"Right, Den," said Colin, "This is serious: I'm going to write to Danny."

X

The next day they had a gayness conference after lunch. The problem was that one of the Gay Champions from the previous year had left, and the other three were doing O.W.L.'s and needed some serious catching-up on their studies.

Also, they were without Danny Jorrocks, who had done such an amazing job making the first-years gay-aware with his Juniors in Gay Support group (JIGS).

"Perhaps we don't need JIGS any more," said Jonny, "Danny broke the back of gay-awareness last year and now everyone from Year Two to Year Seven knows what gay means, and most of them are tolerant to some degree. That'll surely pass down to the first-years."

"Not inter-house," said Adam.

"True, that's an important aspect. If the worst comes to the worst, you could set it up Adam and leave them to it."

"That would be a worst: they really need someone who's going to be there for them all the time like Danny, and then me, were last year."

Colin saw David Ward a little way across the lawn.

"Hey, Wardy!" he called.

A pleasant-looking fourth-year came over. He might have been described as non-descript, were it not for the mass of thick, dark-brown hair that grew to his waist, and which, in deference to the gales of autumn, was currently pony-tailed.

This was David Ward, renowned as the first boy to receive Danny Jorrocks' seminal fluid in his rectum; and less renowned as being one of Adam's regular shags during his bachelor days.

"All right boys?" he smiled.

"Wardy, you and your mates are sluts!" said Jonny, "The Prof would have had to be blind not to see that your dorm was in the middle of a first-night orgy at half-eleven last night."

"For your information," said David, "It wasn't an orgy, but a chaste occasion of love-making, with never more than two boys involved in any one act."

"Coo! Danny'd curse you if he knew," said Colin.

"No he wouldn't," said David, "Nicholas can squirt now and last night we did something we hadn't been able to do before: each of us squirted inside the other three's bums."

"Wow, David that's brilliant," said Dennis, "Danny'll be really proud of you."

"It's about Danny I called you over," said Colin, "How do you fancy running JIGS this year."

David was taken aback.

"I couldn't do that," he said, "It should be someone with a bit more push. Adam, you'd be best: you were brilliant as Danny's deputy and successor."

"Can't be done, Wardy," said Adam, "It needs a commitment all through the year, and there's one big commitment for us fifth-years, and that's exams—though I should say that some of us have another big commitment."

James squeezed his hand.

"Well . . ." said David.

"We'll help you set it up, David," said Sea Jay, "And do the syllabus with you and give you support when you need it."

"Then I'll do it," said David, "And I'll dedicate everything I do to Danny: it's thanks to him that every day I get love and fantastic sex from three of the most hetero boys in the school."

"We've got Danny to thank for everything too," said James Poxon-Watts, pressing close to Adam.

"Amen," said Adam.

"And our women!" said Dennis.

"Putting Danny aside for a moment," said David, "As a little reward, I'd like to expand my experience."

The other six boys giggled: they had a good idea of what was coming.

"It looks like our dorm's gonna be nothing special in terms of willy-size," continued David, "And rumour has it that you've grown a giant since you last shagged, me, Colin, so . . ."

"Willingly, David" said Colin, "Though it's only half an inch extra."

"Three quarters of an inch," said Dennis.

Colin had the horn. He was desperate for a shag, and David, with his white, bony, sharp-cheeked bum and his masses of hair was an attractive prospect.

"Okay; where and when, Wardy Darling!" said Colin.

"Twelve!" said Dennis.

"What?" they all asked.

"Four boys; do as you would be done by; be done by as you did; that's twelve shags."

"I'm only thinking of one shag now, Dennis," said David. See you in my dorm at five past six, Colin. I'll tip off the others."

"See yer, David!"

X

The afternoon passed at a crawl.

Arithmancy was bad enough, but Muggle Studies was a nightmare: this first N.E.W.T.'s lesson was not about interesting things like Football, the Wild West and Steam Engines, but dealt with how Muggles got to live in their houses.

What conceivable use could any wizard ever make of his knowledge of Interest-Only-Mortgages?

Colin left the Great Hall with David Ward. He could not resist taking David's hand as they walked up the Great Stair.

Professor Dumbledore had requested that the holding of hands—regardless of gender—should be done sparingly; and kissing even more so.

But sometimes the emotion of the moment was too overwhelming.

They increased their pace more and more and were going full-tilt by the time they reached David's dormitory.

Giggling and breathless, Colin took out his wand to do the Lubrication Charm. Then the two boys scrambled out of their clothes and stood facing each other.

"It is big, Colin," said David, "Nearly as big as Danny's when he Polyjuiced into that big boy."

Colin drew David into a kiss, but straight away, David reached down to wrap his fingers around Colin's shaft, then crouched to examine it closely.

He felt the shaft along its length and examined Colin's ballsack, gently squeezing the two plums.

He snuffled around, taking in Colin's smell. Then, after licking Colin's ballsack, he retreated to Danny's former bed, and leant back with his scrawny buttocks pointed towards the ceiling.

"Ready!" he giggled.

Colin was across in a shot, running his hands over David's bum, squeezing the cheeks so as to feel the bones underneath and looking at the delectable brown starfish which seemed almost to speak aloud its need to be stretched.

He placed his nose against the pucker and smelled: the much-loved musty smell of an unwashed, sweaty boy's bumhole, but with its own unique tang that was distinctly David's.

Colin had hoped to find a little left-over cum among David's sparse hairs, but David, like most of the gay boys, was a firm believer in first things first after breakfast, and any flakes of cum had been wiped away.

He stuck out his tongue and licked the hole: up and down, and round and round.

He pressed harder, and the tongue made a little headway inside.

Colin felt a strong wave of lust: the typical male urge to ram his way inside, but he restrained himself.

Backing off, he wet his big finger and tenderly insinuated it inside David's hole. He wiggled it a little, and David gave a loud groan and said: "Now, Colin, NOW!"

Colin started to introduce a second finger, but was diverted by the sight of David's nipples: they were tiny.

With a gasp of surprised pleasure, he moved his head upwards, ignoring David's very erect, very sticky penis, and sucked each nipple in turn, then gently chomped on them.

They were very hard—like bullets.

David was quivering. He reached down and grasped Colin's willy to position it against his lovehole.

"Now, Colin!" he repeated, and Colin started pushing with his willy. This was the magic moment when the ringpiece stopped being a dark secret knot and became a gloriously wide-open portal to paradise.

He pressed very slowly and stopped when he saw that he was hurting David—not that David complained.

Then he pressed more and suddenly he was inside, and David's velvety passage was wrapped around Colin's willy.

He engaged David in a snog and started to move in and out.

David moved his pelvis to meet each thrust of Colin's; and at each thrust, there came an unwilled squeal from David's throat.

The thrusts got harder and the squeals got louder.

They had to break off all snogging activity, as mouths were needed to take in gasping breaths of air.

David's hair, spreading out on each side, was beautiful.

Then Colin knew that David's orgasm had arrived: his thrusting became frantic; his arms bear-hugged Colin; his squeals were deafening; and his teeth clamped tightly onto Colin's neck.

David's frenzy subsided, but Colin's was on the up, and his humping became more violent, Danny's mattress swaying like a storm-tossed ship as it had so often done in the past.

Then the glorious explosion as he pumped what felt like a ladleful of his semen into David . . . then another . . . and another . . . more than he could count.

It was almost worth going without sex for two days, if you could dump so much juice inside your loved ones.

As they lay panting, David whispered Colin! and Colin whispered David!

There was no need for more words: each boy knew that they'd had a wonderful shag, and each boy knew that their shag had been part of the loving Hogwarts gay scene.

They lay entwined and connected for ages before Colin eased his penis out.

He raised his head and caught a whiff of David.

He buried his nose, first in one armpit, and then in the other.

Then he saw a few smears of cum on David's tummy.

He mopped them up with his nose.

"Bloody hell, Wardy!" he said, "You didn't do badly for a boy who went round-the-houses last night!"

"That's Danny's training," said David, "It's not true that you've got to use it or lose it; but it is true that the more you use it, the more you may use it."

"What do you think of getting it off a king-size?"

"Brilliant, of course; but then it was brilliant getting it off Nick last night, and he's still got a bit of a tiddler."

"Does my love-bite show?"

"Yes," laughed David, "I do get a little carried away sometimes."

"Was that your mark on Stephen this morning?"

"Guilty! Do you know? He went without a wank for the last week of the holidays. Lucky Barry got his first load and I got his second. He was so hot! I couldn't stop biting his neck. And then he got my load, so he's got an even bigger love-bite on his shoulder. I told him I'd kiss them better until they vanished."

"Which means forever," said Colin, and the two boys laughed merrily.

They talked for a while about Sex and Love and Friendship.

Then they both got keen again.

"Bum me," said Colin.

"No, bum me," said David, "I might as well get the best use of your cock while I've got you trapped in here."

So Colin laid David face-down and buried himself under David's hair.

They made love again. It lasted longer, and though the ending was less passionate and less squirty, the after-effects were no different: they were filled by the same intense happiness.

Colin gave David a love-bite on the back of his neck. It wouldn't be visible, though, under the mass of hair.

"I hoped we might see a bit more of you this year," said David, "What with there being two empty beds in your dorm, but his bloody curfew thing's put the kibosh on it."

"We'll get round it somehow."

They talked some more, and the David noticed it was ten to eight, so they went down to the common room.

X

Colin went and sat with Alexander.

As it was David's Colin-evening, he did not join his year-group, just giving them a thumbs-up and sitting down with Colin, Alexander, and some more second- and third-years.

Among them was Jimmy Peakes, who was sitting with an arm round his current girlfriend.

"Shoo off," he told her, "Time for boy-talk," and she went off quite placidly.

"Where you been, Colin?" asked Alexander.

"A little private study in David's dorm," said Colin.

Alexander tittered and said: "I bet you learned something, David."

"Yeah, and I think you deserve a medal," said David.

"It wasn't easy, but it was the nicest hard work I've ever had."

David tittered now: "Yeah, it was the hardest nice work that's ever had me."

"Oh shut up!" laughed Colin, "It's still me and it still loves you all!"

"You'll be lonely at night, Colin, with just the three of you in the dorm," said Jimmy Peakes.

"And we'll miss you in our dorm," said James Carter, "Not just Alex, but all the good ghost stories you used to read in the dark."

Colin got a sudden erection. James had always had this effect on him, even before the night when they had shared a fondle of Alexander's bum, and James had flashed Colin his stiffie and invited him to sleep with him.

"It'll be sorted," said Colin.

"Meantime, come to our dorm at six tomorrow," said James.

"I'm coming to your dorm on Friday," said Colin, "And that's just me and Alex."

"Come to our dorm tomorrow, then," said Chris Gillies, "And let Dennis stay."

Chris and Dennis were dorm-mates. Chris was best friend of Jimmy Peakes, and like him a fanatical girl-hunter. That hadn't stopped Chris and the two Creeveys once having had a memorable hot-sex session.

"Let me stop, too, Colin," blurted out Andrew Kirke.

This surprised everyone: Andrew was known to have occasionally approached other boys discretely, but this was his first public declaration of interest. Colin guessed that he could now squirt, and was needing sex badly.

Everyone was sorry for Andrew: he was still officially Gryffindor Beater but had been told at the end of the summer term that he would be booted out.

Before Colin could reply, Simon Hibbard piped up: "Me too, please, Colin."

Simon was in a similar position to Andrew: given an end-of-term notification of dismissal. He had been the junior associate in a romantic friendship between the prefects Gordon Twist and Andrew Merryweather. Merryweather was now Head Boy, and the loving couple had decided that a friendship with a boy four years their junior was not acceptable.

Unlike Andrew, Simon was generally disliked: he was arrogant, self-centred and aggressive.

There was an awkward silence, broken by Colin saying: "I'm not going to any dorm tomorrow; I've got far too much O.W.L. work. I should be doing it now, but I'm so cosy between Alexander and David."

Colin sensed a warm feeling among the listeners: happy for Colin; happy for David and Alexander; wistful that it wasn't them.

Dennis came into the common room. He had been to Ravenclaw to see his young (three years older) lady.

"Budge up," he said, squeezing between Colin and David, and putting an arm around each, "I've got news!"

"What?" they all said.

"Tintin's found a mate."

"Pete Bradley, I bet" said Jimmy Peakes, "His girlfriend's left. Gorgeous little thing, beautiful pair of—"

"Shut up Jimmy, darling!" said Dennis, "I said mate, not gentleman-friend. He's a first-year called Christopher Bloom. He's as girly as Tintin. They spent all night with Chrissie trying on Tintin's dresses. Then at eight o'clock they came into the common room. Honestly, they were absolute stunners. Mandy tried to stop me looking at them. They've only known each other for a day and you'd think they'd been best friends for life."

"I suppose they would be rivals," said David Ward, "Except there's so much straight cock in this school desperate to get hold of a girl they can actually do something with. Do you think I'd look good in a dress?"

"You'd look good in anything," said Colin.

"There's more!" said Dennis, so excited that he nearly bounced them all off the sofa, "Tintin's let it be known that whoever goes out with her will always be second best, as she's had her heart broken by Dean Thomas!"

There was some excitement: after a long struggle, Dean had finally reached the girl of his dreams and it was exciting to learn that, at the very moment Dean was probably kissing Ginny in a corridor far from brother Ron's eye, revelations about a previous girlfriend were emerging.

Alexander said: "You can't believe what Tintin says. He just fantasises romances with every boy in the school."

"There was maybe one night," said James Carter, "It was when we did that Ron Weasley dance. Dean went off to Hufflepuff very late, and some of the Hufflepuff first-years were hinting things afterwards."

Further speculation was suspended as Sea Jay and Jonathan came in from Married Quarters where they had been studying.

Colin checked the time. It was eight forty-four.

"Come on, committee," said Jonny.

The husbands, the Creeveys and David Ward went to an empty table near to the staircase door and sat down to discuss JIGS.

One minute later, the call went out for first-years to go to bed.

The little boys went willingly, all unknowing of the fact that the five boys who wished them a cheery goodnight were met to discuss their future.

"I like the blond one, Alan Campbell," said Jonny.

"I like the dark one—not the Indian; the other one," said Sea Jay, "The one that looks like a gypsy."

"Gareth Treharne," said Dennis, "He's my favourite too. So is Roorade McKay."

"The Sorting Hat pronounced it Rory," said Jonny, "He's cute. He's nearly as tiny as Danny was when he turned up."

They had a pleasant discussion about the attractiveness of the little boys, then got down to business.

They wrote a letter to Professor Dumbledore asking for permission and a room; they drafted a poster; they discussed a syllabus for David.

It was a pleasant evening, concluded by the non-residents' failed attempt to enter Married Quarters, which confirmed that the eight o'clock curfew applied there too. They didn't really want to get in: it was merely an attempt to deconstruct the Shield Charm.

Colin spent the night alone in his bed.

X

For the rest of the week, Colin scarcely had time to relax his brain. The O.W.L. work was really heavy—so heavy that Colin had to admit it was quite useful to be sleeping by himself.

Dennis was suffering a different fate: he had more dorm-mates than he wanted. The curfews meant that boys all over the school were having sexual recourse to their own dormitories. Dennis was being frequently propositioned by three of his five dorm-mates.

One of them, Chris Gillies, was a sexpot, but really he was chiefly interested in Dennis as a means of relieving genitalia that had been tortured for hours by Chris's current girlfriend.

Dennis and Colin felt strongly that straight boys having gay sex should have to spend the night with their partner so that they were definitely aware that sex between two boys was more than a hole-in-the wall emptying of balls.

Having Chris spend the night where he would be spending the night anyway didn't count.

Besides, as Dennis told Colin at lunch on Tuesday: why should School Rules force him into having sex with Chris?

As for the six-to-eight sessions, you couldn't just barge into someone's dorm, demanding that non-participants leave; and somehow, doing it in broad daylight, in a room where anyone was free to walk in and out, was not on—even with protective charms.

Sea Jay and Jonathan had offered open house in their room, but everyone agreed that Married Quarters was one concession—the biggest possible concession in terms of recognition of gayness—by the authorities that must not be abused: girls and straights must not be given any excuse for saying that marriage was just homosexual promiscuity under another name.

Monday night with David had been a one-off special, and Colin was feeling a bit guilty about his forthcoming Friday with Alex, even though he had four other ex-Jiggers in his dorm.

The end result of all the restrictions on sex was that Colin and Dennis took to having quick knee-tremblers around the grounds after dinner; then it was back to work, and Dennis's marks improved as well as Colin's.

Professor Dumbledore sent an owl to David on Wednesday. He expressed warm approval for JIGS, gave a room and password, and asked only that they observed the nine o'clock curfew.

The notices went up in each of the houses on Thursday morning.

Slytherin was initially a problem: they had lost their friendly contacts, Adrian Pucey and Brian Hudson.

They thought that their only recourse would be to browbeat that nasty bit of work Nathan Passaro, over whom they had a bit of a hold, but Adam thought of Gonzalo Harper.

"He was in girls' clothing at our hen party," said Adam, "Cho and Michael saw him being shagged senseless after the party by Neil Stebbins and Ephraim Chambers, so he's definitely openly gay.

"The only Out Slytherin we know," said Sea Jay.

Gonzalo readily agreed to post up the notice. He was a quiet fifth-year; a non-typical Slytherin who they all liked, despite his persistent habit of diverting potential aggression against his sexuality by means of extravagant anti-Muggle rhetoric.

They had their first Potions lesson on the Tuesday.

Jonathan Neil did something he called A matter of standard tradecraft: he tailed Professor Slughorn to his office and successfully picked up the new password.

The best news of the week was a letter from Danny:

Darling Brothers,

Bad luck about the curfew. There are probably powerful charms that I couldn't solve without a visit (which is not impossible).

However, there may be a loophole: Prefects.

They've got to be in and out of their dorms to check for trouble, but not, probably, into other dorms: calling at the door is sufficient for most occasions, and Hogwarts does like to respect the privacy of its students.

More good news: the Exit charm is an Alarm and not a Shield. This is because people might need to escape from fire, abduction, beasts, etc.; but being an Alarm means the charm has to be simpler, and imposing conditions that the right person is leaving the right dorm at the right time becomes impossible.

My guess is that Professor Flitwick took his usual elegant and simple approach, and keyed the Exit Alarm to the prefects' BADGES. So try and borrow a badge.

Good luck!

Life here is good. We had a little teething trouble with the five new boys, but it's all been sorted.

Your nephews, your brother-in-law and all the others send their love.

Please give my love to all, specially E4PH.

From your brother Danny.

PS I wonder how far Geoff pushed you?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Colin was delighted that Danny was happy and that he had come up with something promising.

He showed the letter to Dennis who said: "Poor, poor Danny! How he's suffering at Yorosk!"

They laughed happily: Danny's suffering involved being one of twenty boys aged nine to sixteen who were all avowedly and committedly gay and who were living together in a nurturing, loving environment.

X

Friday morning came.

Alexander had talked a little wistfully about the Quidditch training session that was scheduled for that night; just a week before the tryouts.

However, he had resolutely refused to postpone his session with Colin.

Now, armed with Danny's letter, Colin could be more assertive.

"Morning Al" he said, "I've got good news and good news. Which do you want first?"

"Er . . . the good news," said the boy.

"Well the good news is: you're going to Quidditch training tonight."

"I told you—"

"Don't interrupt! The good news is . . ."

Colin bent to whisper in Alexander's ear: "If all goes well, I'm coming to your dorm at midnight!"

"What!" called Alexander, as Colin completed the good news by licking his ear.

"Ssh!" said Colin, "Not another word!"

He left Alexander looking happy, and marched towards Dennis.

On the way, he stopped off at Harry Potter, who despite Sunday's hiccup, had been much more cheerful than in the previous year.

"Morning, Harry," he said, "I had a letter from Danny. He sends you his special love."

"That's nice," beamed Harry.

"Between you and me, Harry: if you could guarantee a place in the Quidditch team, I think he might be prepared to come back."

Everybody within earshot laughed: Danny was one of the most useless people on a broomstick that Hogwarts had ever seen.

Harry laughed as much as anyone.

Colin was very pleased that Harry was happier this term. He guessed that Harry was getting plenty from Damian Fay. Bless the two of them!

X

At break it was lovely weather, and the whole school seemed to be out on the lawn.

Mrs Poxon and Mrs Watts were with their Ravenclaw friends.

Colin stood with Sea Jay, Jonny and Dennis.

"When you see the whole school like this," said Sea Jay, "You realise that gay boys will always be a minority."

"Yeah," said Jonny, "Even last year's Jiggers are growing up."

They looked around them.

"Leon Wood with a girlfriend," said Sea Jay, "And Matthew Hinton . . . Euan Abercrombie . . . James Carter . . . Paul Smith . . . Nathan Passaro, though we don't count him.

Jonny picked up the story: "Even Lee Shepherd and James Buckley—a star gay couple—are flirting with the girls."

"Though Lee doesn't look at home," said Colin.

"And then look at the older boys in our house," said Sea Jay, "Chris Gils—"

"Dennis Creevey!" said Dennis, "But I'm not like them: my body will always be available for my brothers and my gay friends; even when I'm a grandfather; always, always, always!"

A tidal wave of emotion swept over the boys, and they went into a four-way cuddle.

When they had recovered, Dennis continued: "The ones I can't understand are the ones who've never tried it. Raj Mallya, Jimmy Peakes and Andrew Kirke all have girlfriends, but they have to wank themselves off. They could at least bum people with their eyes shut, and pretend it's a girl."

"Well, I think Andy Kirke's having second thoughts," said Colin.

"I think you've neglected your dorm, Dennis," said Jonny, "You've always had Colin and Danny and us and loads of others. If you'd worked on your dorm like Danny did on his—"

"It's not too late," interrupted Sea Jay, "If this curfew continues, why not make an all or nothing offer? That way there's a bit of moral pressure as well as the chance of a bit of flesh, even if it's male."

"Well said, Mrs Neil," said Jonny.

Dennis snorted: "It'll be all except Simon Hibbard or nothing!"

"But why, Dennis?" said Jonny, "Danny said he had a lovely willy, and a big pair of bollocks, even though a certain person alleged he had a one-inch willy and a sack as flat as a pancake."

"He's a bitch," said Dennis.

"Then I prescribe a dose of your own medicine," laughed Sea Jay, "Shut your eyes and pretend he's Danny."

"Bollocks!"

"You could at least report on the colour of his pubes," said Jonny, referring to the very bright ginger hair on Simon's head.

"Yuch!"

X

Colin had a splendid evening from the point of view of work.

He manfully repressed his erection, despite the fact that at the next table was Harry Potter, whose willy, inter alia, he had sucked when Harry was in a drugged sleep; and also there was Ron Weasley, whose genuinely giant member he had wanked off while Ron was being triumphantly carried shoulder-high after a success at Quidditch.

Hermione was with them, of course.

Colin had been intending to approach Hermione about the curfews, but stopped just in time to avoid forewarning her: she was a conscientious prefect; it was one thing helping to make a turd permanent or to stop Slytherin cheating; quite another to circumvent rules which, whatever their side-effects, were there for the protection of students.

At another table, there was a slinky Hufflepuff seventh-year called Julian Summers.

Danny Jorrocks had spent more than two years chasing him. Danny fancied him massively, but could never catch his eye.

Your a disgrace to Hufflepuff Colinthought, and remembered the old song about the days when the Hufflepuff boys swarmed about the grounds and dorms every evening having what they called The Hufflepuff Ball:

Hufflepuff Boys come out to-night

Hufflepuff Boys come one come all:

The Hufflepuff Moon is shining bright

Hufflepuffs come to the Hufflepuff Ball.

Hufflepuff Boys are black or white,

Hufflepuff Boys have beautiful bums;

Hufflepuff Boys are merry and bright,

And pleasant to hear when the semen comes.

Hufflepuff Boys have cheerful faces,

Hufflepuff Boys have bright black eyes;

They like to tickle their naughty places

And wait for the Hufflepuff Moon to rise.

Hufflepuff Boys develop quickly,

Hufflepuff Boys are small or big;

Hufflepuff Boys are never sickly,

They know how to suck and go jig-a-jig jig.

Until the Hufflepuff Moon appears

They dream of the earth and dream of the sky:

Hufflepuff Boys never wash their rears,

Hufflepuffs leave their arseholes high.

Hufflepuff Boys are white or black,

Hufflepuff Boys are any old size;

Hufflepuff Boys jump like a jumping-jack,

Hufflepuff Boys have moonlit eyes.

They're quiet enough in the morning hours,

They're quiet enough in the afternoon,

Reserving their homosexual powers

To shag by the light of the Hufflepuff Moon.

Hufflepuff Boys are black or white,

Hufflepuff Boys are never lukewarm;

If it happens to be a stormy night

They will practise some buggery in the dorm.

If it happens the sun is shining bright

You would say they had nothing to do at all:

They are resting and saving themselves to be right

For the Hufflepuff Moon and the Hufflepuff Ball.

Following a catastrophic fall in the birth rate, as so many wizards preferred to retain their schoolday practices for the rest of their lives, Hufflepuff was reformed, and the song banned in Nineteen Twenty-three. You didn't get that in History of Magic.

At five to nine, they all packed up.

Colin accompanied Harry and his friends back to Gryffindor, said goodnight and went straight to bed.

He set his Wizard Alarm for five to twelve and was soon asleep, waking with a raging stiffie.

He was going to shag Alexander.

No, he was going to shag with Alexander.

No, he was going to have sex with Alexander—whatever sort of sex Alexander wanted.

He crept out of bed and put on his dressing-gown and slippers.

He tiptoed over to where Ray Kelly's cloak was hanging up.

He groped in the dark: yes, there was the prefects' badge.

He pinned it onto his dressing-gown.

He crept towards the door and paused.

His contingency plan if the Alarm sounded was to scamper back to pin the badge where it belonged and rush inside his curtains.

He pushed open the door and stepped outside.

Nothing.

Good old Danny!

Elated, he approached the stairs.

He thought he would drop in on Dennis and give him a nice suck before proceeding to the second years' dorm.

He went down two flights, opened the door and went to tiptoe in.

He was blocked.

Damn, damn, damn!

He had been convinced that Danny's words of caution were aimed at not raising false hopes.

He had been wrong.

Forlornly, he tried Alexander's room, but of course it was no go.

Just the other side of that door, his beautiful Alexander was lying stretched out, his little willy stiff; his little bum quivering in eager hope of Colin's lovingly violent depredations.

Danny always talked about the power of the mind in magic, so Colin forced himself to believe that he really was a prefect, with a responsibility for all his little protégés inside.

He tried again, but it was useless.

He thought of having a wank against Alexander's door and then returning to his own dormitory, but the spirit of adventure encouraged him to go forward, not back.

He entered the deserted common room, where the sofas looked inviting.

But onward!

He passed through the portrait hole, telling the Fat Lady: "These bloody curfews are the devil!"

"It's for your own good, dear," she said.

He concealed Ray's badge and started wandering, on the off-chance that someone else might have found their way out of their house.

He was so randy, he could even have shagged Mrs Norris, but there was no sign of her or her master.

He was on the second floor when he saw that there was a cat: a beautiful little white cat he had never seen previously.

At first, it looked as though the cat were going to run away. Then it changed its mind, and approached him slowly.

It came up to him and wound its way around his legs.

He bent down to stroke it.

"Hello," he said, "You're a beautiful . . . er . . . boy aren't you? Where have you come from?"

The cat purred in ecstasy, then suddenly sprang away, ran twenty yards and sat down looking at Colin.

"You want me to follow you, don't you?" he said, slowly walking towards the cat.

"I shouldn't be doing this, you know: they'd say I've got no way of knowing that you're not an agent of Dark Magic."

The cat led him up a back staircase to the third floor.

It waited at a corner, and vanished down another corridor.

Colin turned the corner and saw a younger boy—though it was a boy nearly as tall as Colin.

He walked up to the boy.

He was not particularly good-looking, but he had a pleasant expression, which broke into a smile.

"Hello," said Colin, "I'm Colin Creevey, and you're Lachlan Tibbs, aren't you?"

"My friends call me Tibby," said the boy, shaking hands warmly.

CHAPTER THREE— The House of Slytherin

Lachlan enjoyed the little boat trip, with the impressive middle-distance view of Hogwarts changing slowly until the castle was lowering over them.

Then they were lead into the Great Hall to be Sorted into houses.

It seemed a long-winded way of going about things, but traditionalists probably demanded it.

When it was his turn, he put the Hat on and heard a voice inside his head:

You are unusual, aren't you?

Courage enough for a Gryffindor, but you want a quiet life

Easy-going and strong drives like a Hufflepuff, but you keep them to yourself

The brains of a Ravenclaw, but too lazy to use them

A pureblood with the deviousness of a Slytherin—when you can be bothered

What do you think?

"They're all the same to me," he replied in his thoughts.

Alright then: Hufflepuff will miss your equipment but . . .

SLYTHERIN!

He got up and went to the cheering table. A big boy shook his hand, told him he was Claude Vere Cavendish Miles, the house captain, and led him to a seat. He was next to Nicola Swan, a nondescript sort of girl, who had been on the Hogwarts Express with him.

When the Sorting was finished, another big boy rose from the other end of the table and came to shake hands.

"Hello, Tibbs," he said.

"Hello," said Lachlan.

"Don't you recognise me?"

"No . . . oh, it's Draco of course."

"You call me Malfoy."

Draco had changed: he was bigger of course, but his features were sharper and he had also acquired a haunted air.

"I'm glad to see you're back on the right track after your mother went to work for Muggles. Father and Mother were very disappointed."

"How are Mr and Mrs Malfoy?"

"What? You mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what? Are they okay?"

"I'm going for some food," said Draco, returning to his seat.

"That's Draco Malfoy," said an Arabic-looking boy, "his father's in Azkaban."

"That's some sort of prison, isn't it?"

The others gaped at him.

"Me and Mum live among Muggles, so we don't get much wizarding news," he explained.

Conversation ceased while they put away some food.

Lachlan assessed the other new boys—he wasn't interested in the girls.

Apart from the putative Arab, there was a black boy, a red-haired Scot, and a slightly tubby boy with glasses.

Not much to bother about.

He thought about Draco, glancing up the table at him occasionally.

It was funny to think that the last time they had met, Lachlan had put his finger up Draco's bumhole. He didn't fancy doing that now: Draco was more of a man than a boy.

He wondered if other fingers had followed his.

Absent-mindedly, he put a finger to his nose, as though the smell still lingered after four years.

X

After the meal, the Headmaster gave a speech and introduced two new teachers: an old man—but they were all old—and a younger man.

Then they went down to the Slytherin common room, which Lachlan liked: it was dark, lit only by spooky green lamps; and it was long and low, so many secret conversations could take place at once.

The ten new Slytherins sat around a table and exchanged names.

Then Miles got everyone in the house to walk up to the table in school order and introduce themselves.

After this, conversation among the first-years would have been stilted, but for Lachlan's ignorance: it's easier to spout facts about a given subject than decide on the subject in the first place.

And the subject was to do with Voldemort, or the Dark Lord as he must be called, and Hogwarts.

"You mean that old dodderer with the withered hand defeated the Dark Lord?" said Lachlan, "And sent all these other wizards to prison? Sounds a right cock-up."

"That was the battle not the war," said Anthony Houlihan, who, despite his Romano-Hibernian name was black as a raven.

"Good," said Lachlan, "Plenty of fun for us when we're trained up."

They went up to their dormitory early, as they were a bit self-conscious and had to unpack, anyway.

Lachlan was delighted at the four-poster beds—complete with curtains for privacy.

Papyrus was sitting on his bed, and miaowed a welcome.

He was introduced to Lachlan's dorm-mates.

"Magic cats are meant to be black," said Sean MacFarlane, as he stroked the cat.

"I know," said Lachlan, "But me and Papyrus were fated to be together."

They were soon in bed and asleep, but re-awoken like the rest of the school by the noise and the voice demanding their presence in the common room.

Lachlan decided to ignore the stupid voice. He was in Hogwarts, which was supposed to be the best-protected magical stronghold in the country. He'd be as well-protected in the dorm as in the common room.

"Come on, Tibbs," said Christopher Clark, as four boys ran dressing-gowned towards the door.

"Just coming," said Lachlan, and as soon they'd gone, pulled down his quilt.

"Move over, Papyrus," he said, as he drew out his dick—Mountjoy he called it and started to rub.

He felt whatever stresses lurked in his happy soul vanishing.

The foreskin, as Keith Gillespie had called it, flickered over the purple bit. He thought of his old schoolmate as he reached the magic moments and regretted not asking Keith to rub him—even if it were just the once to see if he liked it.

As usual, he involuntarily produced a selection of loud noises when the peak came, and as usual, Papyrus purred as though he were pleased at his master's pleasure.

Soon boy and cat were both asleep.

X

Next morning, the other four told him about the night's doings.

"Professor Snape was really stern," said Ahmad Abu-Arefeh.

"Is that the miserable hatchet-nosed one?" asked Lachlan.

"Yes."

"Well, as he's our housemaster, he's just making sure that Slytherin don't foul things up like Hufflepuff did last night."

Lachlan thought the whole thing was silly.

He snorted: "Anyway, why should people want to visit other dormitories in the middle of the night?"

There was a silence. Lachlan wondered if it were an embarrassed silence, then changed the direction of his thoughts: "Well I think we can't let them order us about like that; we'll have to find a way round it."

"Impossible," said Anthony Houlihan, in his ultra-posh accent, "There'll be really powerful, advanced charms—meant to stop eighteen-year-olds. How can eleven-year-olds hope to defeat them?"

"Dunno, but it'll be fun trying."

Then it was time for the first lesson: an hour and a half with Professor Slughorn.

They found they were sharing the lesson with Gryffindor, and Lachlan saw his other two companions from the Hogwarts express: Alan Campbell and Nina Page. He waved a hello just before, to their surprise, Professor Snape arrived to let them in.

"Professor Slughorn has an important meeting with the Headmaster and has asked me to step in."

Professor Snape took the register, looking hard so as to memorise each student.

Then he stood up and wandered about the classroom, giving them a talk about the beauty and subtlety of Potions.

He stopped in front of Lachlan, saying: "Tibbs, I didn't see you in the common room last night."

"No Sir."

"May I ask where you were?"

"In bed. Sir."

"Did you hear the Alarm ordering students to the common room?"

"Yes Sir."

"Then why did you remain in bed?"

"I thought it was initiative test, Sir."

"An initiative test? Explain yourself."

"I thought it was to test which students were stupid enough to obey."

The Professor's eyes grew darker and his lips sneered.

"Tibbs," he said, "Three hundred students obeyed the summons. Are you saying they were stupid and you were the only wise one?"

Lachlan saw the trap: "No Sir; I was stupid for thinking it was an initiative test."

"Tibbs," snapped the Professor, "I don't like arrogant, disobedient little boys in my class. You are at Hogwarts to learn, which means knowing your place . . . or perhaps you would like to take this lesson? I am sure Professor Slughorn would be pleased to have a deputy."

"I don't think I'm qualified, Sir."

"Today, I'm going to deal with the Draft Against the Creeping Quinsy. Would you care to teach it to your peers?"

"Oh no, Sir I'm not qualified to teach it—even though it is a trivial potion."

"Trivial?" snapped the Professor.

"Yes Sir. Page forty-four of Magical Drafts and Potions."

"Which says?"

"Take eight juniper berries and grind with six porcupine quills and seven drachms of moonflower sap . . ."

Lachlan reeled off the recipe.

Snape spoke to the rest of the class: "Having displayed arrogance last night, Tibbs has shown you the opposite this morning: the results of humble application and willingness to learn from others. He has taken pains to study his textbooks in advance. What other students have done this?"

Two Gryffindor hands went up.

Snape was quickly on the rampage, testing the Gryffindor pair and Lachlan on later pages of Magical Drafts and Potions—tests in which Lachlan easily surpassed the others.

Snape appeared to enjoy the humiliation of the Gryffindors more than the demonstration of Slytherin brilliance.

"Good, Tibbs" said Snape, "Five points to Slytherin."

"What does that mean, Sir?"

Snape's draw dropped.

"Later, Tibbs," he said, "Now open your textbooks at page forty-four . . ."

They had to work in pairs, and Lachlan decided to stick with a known quantity and teamed up with Nicola Swan, which had the spin-off that criticism for team errors was likely to be milder with a girl involved; also girls were easier to browbeat and more willing to take the blame.

As it turned out, Nicola was a strong individual and they worked very well together.

Lachlan was worried that he would miss break through having to endure more from Snape after the lesson, but Professor Slughorn burst into the room at ten o'clock: "My dear Severus, I wouldn't have had this happen for the world. Would you prefer to finish this class or pick up your first-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs?"

"The latter, I think, Horace. I have set them reading The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and an hour of QuentinTrimble is quite sufficient."

Snape left the room and Professor Slughorn said: "Ah, the Draft Against the Creeping Quinsy. Jolly good, Jolly good"

At the end of the lesson, Lachlan and Nicola turned in an acceptable potion and went outside for break.

Lachlan's classmates expressed amazement to learn that it wasn't just potions: Lachlan had read and reread all the textbooks to the point of knowing them by heart.

Afterwards, it was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.

Lachlan enjoyed looking at the MacKenzie twins. It must be nice to have a twin and rub each other as though you were rubbing yourself.

He spent a free period in the wonderful library, then, after lunch and an unimpressed close look at Harry Potter, it was Charms and Transfiguration with Ravenclaw.

There was another interesting character to evaluate: a boy called Christopher Bloom who looked, spoke and moved like a girl.

Lachlan wondered whether he had a dicky or a slit . . . or perhaps even both? It would be fun to find out.

After an Astronomy class, also with Ravenclaw, Lachlan felt that he had cracked Hogwarts and was well on the way to becoming a real wizard.

He sent an owl to his mother, telling her how much he was enjoying it.

X

By Tuesday evening, however, he was feeling a little less self-assured—or arrogant as Snape would have it.

It was all very well knowing the textbooks, but when it came to putting spells into practice, Lachlan discovered that he was only average. He had a lot to learn about the use of Crusher.

Similarly, when he mounted a broomstick for the first time, he learnt that physical power, fitness and good reactions were much less important than mental focus and a specific aptitude for flying.

He was also surprised that, within Slytherin, different year-groups inter-mingled very little and, accordingly, the first-years were of little account in the house. To be fair, Lachlan thought, his year-mates were a pretty dull bunch.

To a boy used to being top of the form, Victor Ludorum, and Head Boy, the change might be thought likely to cause feelings of disappointment and anxiety, but Lachlan had recourse to his favourite pastime: reading.

As to his other favourite pastime, he had considered having his rubs in the showers, but standing up wasn't as much fun.

He lay in bed and gave Mountjoy a good rubbing on the Tuesday night, keeping a handkerchief in his mouth to reduce the funny noises.

Then he worried that the others might have heard the sheets rustling. He wasn't in the least ashamed of what he did; nor would he have been embarrassed to be found out. It was simply that what he did with Mountjoy, and the marvellous feelings that came from it were his, and he wanted no-one else to share them.

There was a sort of privacy-by-association to be observed too: when he went into the showers, he kept a towel draped around himself. Again, this was purely because of possessiveness.

The other boys were quite happy to expose themselves, and walked in and out of the showers with their dickies brazenly on the swing.

Lachlan wasn't interested in the dickies except as part of his environment, to be observed as he might have observed a flock of sparrows.

There was, however, one thing that puzzled him, and on Wednesday lunchtime, he approached Sean MacFarlane, who seemed to be the most worldly-wise of his peers.

"MacFarlane," he said, "Do you know what's wrong with Abu's dicky?"

"Wrang?" said Macfarlane, "Nothin' that I've noticed. It seems an ordinary coke; circumcised, but nothin' else special about it."

"What does circumcised mean?"

MacFarlane explained the anatomy.

"But why do they do it?" asked Lachlan.

"Aye, well the Muggles do it when the foreskin's too tight; we wizards stretch the foreskin by magic."

Lachlan remembered Roger Nichols, and said: "But I knew a Muggle boy whose foreskin wouldn't pull back, and they didn't circumcise him."

"They don't always do it, said MacFarlane, "And, being Muggles, they sometimes do it when it doesn't need doing at all. They think it's a kind of magic."

"That's barbaric."

"It is indeed."

"And that means the boy can't grow up and be a father."

"How do you work that yin oot?"

"Well, do you know how babies are made?"

"Of course."

"The man puts his dicky into the woman's tight fanny, and she rubs his foreskin up and down, and he squirts cream to make the baby. Well, if he hasn't got a foreskin, she can't rub it."

"She disnae need to rub the foreskin; she can rub the bell-end."

"Is that the purple bit?"

"Aye."

Lachlan thought for a moment, then another mystery occurred to him:

"Wait a minute! Abu's pureblood, so how come his parents did that Muggle nonsense on him?"

"There you have me," said MacFarlane, "But I know that the Abu-Arefehs are an ancient family of pureblood wizards."

"You don't think they're like the Conversos who were secretly Jewish all the time?"

"Now you really have lost me. You're a funny chap, Tibbs, and your Hover Charm's crap!"

He placed a foot behind Lachlan's ankle, pushed him over, and crouched on him, trying to pin him to the ground.

Lachlan knew this game: it was called wrestling, and the Muggle boys had loved doing it.

He knew how to play the game too; you matched strengths in body or limb in such a way that nothing got damaged. Then there was a ritual surrender. If Lachlan wanted to inspire extra respect in his opponent or in watching boys, he made sure he won. Usually he preferred to lose: it gave the opponent a false sense of power and made him easy meat for doing whatever favours Lachlan wanted in the future.

He was surprised that wizard boys did this in addition to Muggles.

Today, he put up a brave struggle but surrendered at last.

"Ye're a braw wrestler," said MacFarlane, as he hauled Lachlan up.

"Done it with Muggle kids."

"Ye seem to have spent a lot o' time with Muggles."

"Yes; not many witches and wizards in our village."

"I shouldn't talk too much about it, Tibbs. People might suspect ye of being a blood traitor."

So it was true: apparently sensible people really believed that rot.

"Never!" he said, "You should have seen the things I used to do to the village Muggles."

He fed MacFarlane a colourful set of fictions concerning Muggle-abuse. MacFarlane was in stitches.

It had been a useful and educational lunchtime.

X

That evening, after dinner, a sixth-year boy who Lachlan knew was called Blaise Zabini came up to him.

"Tibbs, a word, please?"

"Yes, of course, Zabini."

"This way."

Zabini led Lachlan into one of the Slytherin study-rooms.

He was a brown-skinned boy, with slightly chinky features; quite attractive. Lachlan had the impression that he was a champion sneerer at students from other houses, and sometimes even within Slytherin.

"Tibbs," he said after they had sat down, "I am pleased to be able to tell you that you have been elected to a most important position within the House; a position of immense honour and one which carries an enormous amount of prestige."

It sounded very unlikely. Lachlan was on guard against a trap, but merely assumed a mildly pleased expression and said: "Oh yes?"

"What I have to tell you is a secret," continued Zabini, "A secret about a secret. We have, within Slytherin house, kept to ourselves the great Slytherin Secret. For hundreds of years we have elected a first-year student who is made privy to this Secret, and so the Knowledge has been passed down through the generations."

The portentousness of all this was somewhat diminished when Papyrus slunk through the magic cat-flap, hopped onto Lachlan's knee and commenced a loud purring.

"I don't understand," said Lachlan, "None of you know anything about the five of us—I assume it's boys only—so how can you have an election?"

"The election is actually done by the magical fabric of Slytherin House itself. At the start of every school year, the SSK's—that's the Slytherin Secret Keepers—meet and perform a magical invocation which reveals to us the new SSK."

And that's me," said Lachlan, "Wow! Who are the other SSK's—or is that a secret too?"

"Not a secret, Tibbs, but not to be bandied about. Everyone in Slytherin knows their names, and they are accorded great respect."

"And what are the names?"

"There's me, of course. Then Harper, Winter, Baddock and you."

"Quite an impressive collection. Why no second-year?"

"There was one. He was called Hudson. He left in disgrace; he stole a ring—a Slytherin heirloom—and was chucked out. He sent the ring back later, but they wouldn't let him come back himself. There is provision within the rituals for dead or absent initiates."

"And why no seventh-year?"

"You've got to be under seventeen. The Knowledge obliviates itself from your memory. Miles used to be an SSK. Now he can remember nothing about it."

"And what's involved when you're an SSK?"

"Just a short weekly meeting."

Lachlan was fairly sure that he had noticed Zabini, and maybe one or two others, going into a study-room the previous evening. About ten minutes they'd been in there—and that included the famous election. At least this SSK nonsense wouldn't take up much of his time.

"Okay, Zabini; is that all for now? I have a lot of homework."

"Yes, get on with it, Tibbs. We'll be in touch."

"I'll let you know in a couple of days."

Zabini looked amazed.

"W-what do you mean, let me know?" he asked.

"I'll let you know whether I want to be an SSK."

"But you can't refuse! No-one's ever refused!"

Lachlan had no intention of refusing.

"I see there are two study-bedrooms still unallocated. If I get respect for being an SSK, does that extend to me being given one of them?"

"Er . . . I'll have to talk to Malfoy—and Miles, of course."

This confirmed to Lachlan that, despite having a father in prison, Malfoy was the most important boy in Slytherin.

X

On Thursday morning, Lachlan came downstairs to find a number of students at the notice-board.

He pushed his way in, and read:

FIRST YEAR BOYS!

Are you interested in other boys?

Are you interested in Gayness?

Do you think you might be Gay?

Would you like to support Gay boys?

Do you just want to make real friends?

If your answer to any of these is Yes, then come to an

INFORMAL MEETING

CLASSROOM 3E, SUNDAY 19.00

When we will discuss formation of a

JUNIORS IN GAY SUPPORT GROUP (JIGS)

Any queries to David Ward IV(G)

Lachlan had heard the word gay used at his Muggle school. It was applied to people, places, objects or situations which were in any way hopelessly despicable.

A posh boy might use naff; an intellectual, pathetic; a yokel mazed; but any of them might use gay.

Lachlan thought it was quite a sensible idea to reduce the unhappiness and discontent in the school by encouraging inadequates to gather together. He mentally took off his wizard's hat to this David Ward.

He thought no more about it until Games after lunch, when Alan Campbell, his acquaintance from the Hogwarts Express, approached him.

"Any of your lot going to this thing on Sunday?" he asked.

"Not that I know of," said Lachlan, "Why? None of your lot look like candidates—except maybe that Johnston.

Magnus Johnston was a dark-skinned boy from Orkney—obviously of Indian stock, despite his name.

"Magnus isn't interested," said Campbell, "But me and Gareth are going."

"Gareth Treharne?" laughed Lachlan, looking at the tough-looking, swarthy boy currently awaiting his turn at the vaulting horse, "I've never seen anyone who looks less gay!"

"You can never tell," said Campbell, "However, he's Cornish, and they've got a long tradition—they symbolise it with the Cornish Pasty."

"Now you really have lost me, as someone I know once said."

He placed a foot behind Campbell's ankle, pushed him over, and crouched on him, starting to wrestle.

But Campbell made no show of resistance.

"Bloody hell, Tibbs, you're not exactly subtle, are you?"

Madam Hooch's voice came sharply: "You two! Tibbs and Campbell! Aguamenti!"

Lachlan felt a stream of water trickling down his back.

Laughing, the two boys turned their attention back to PE.

At the end of the lesson, Lachlan ran over to where Campbell and the other Gryffindors were walking off the field.

"Campbell," he called, "Tell me about that Cornish pasty."

"It's to do with tin-mining," said Campbell, "The miners wanted their meal to be compact and easy to cook and eat, so they had a thick sheet of pastry, folded and crimped, with meat in one end and fruit in the other. See?"

"No."

"They started savoury and ended sweet—and that's the way they lived their lives. Now do you get it?"

"No."

"It's a metaphor," said David Young, "There's even a rhyme for it:

Start life with meat

But women are sweet.

Now do you see?"

"Oh yes," said Lachlan, but he had no idea what these Gryffindor boys were on about.

X

Thursday's interesting events had not yet finished: Draco called Lachlan into his study-bedroom that evening.

Lachlan guessed that he was in for a nagging about becoming an SSK, but Draco didn't seem at all interested in that supposedly important institution.

"Sit down, Tibbs," he said, "Zabini tells me that you have applied for a study-bedroom."

"Yes, Draco—I mean, Malfoy."

"You can call me Draco within these walls, Tibbs. We go back a long way."

"Yes, Draco."

"Do you remember the old days, when you lived at Malfoy Manor?"

"Not very much. I remember I used to worship you and felt it a great honour to be allowed to keep you company."

"I used to call you Lachie," said Draco, looking smug, "Has anyone else ever called you that?"

"No, Draco."

"Would you like me to call you that again?"

"Yes please, Draco."

"Do you remember the games we used to play?"

Oh no! thought Lachlan. He's going to make me stick my finger in his dirty, stinking, shitty bum.

"Er . . . didn't we use to play Space Explorers?"

"Yes, I think I remember that," said Draco.

There was a definite sense of relief from Draco. Thank goodness, his only concern had been whether or not Lachlan remembered their naughty games.

"Now Lachie," continued Draco, "About that study-bedroom: I'm—we're—minded to allocate the last two to Crabbe and Goyle. What have you got to say to that?"

"You're decision, Draco, though I would give you one word of warning."

"Go on."

"Well, I've read a lot of books—"

"Yes, the staff can talk of nothing else, I hear. And what did you learn about Crabbe and Goyle?"

"As you know, I haven't had much to do with the wizard world, and knew nothing about your father's troubles until I arrived here; but now I am here, I've learnt that you are the most important man in Slytherin, and Crabbe and Goyle are your lieutenants."

"You could say that," said Draco, smugness returning.

"One thing I've learnt from books," Lachlan continued, "Is that, throughout history, the greatest threat to leaders is the enemy within: would-be successors; people afraid of the leader's displeasure; people who want things run in a different way.

"And history shows that the most successful leaders are those who set their men to watch over each other.

"The more time you allow Crabbe and Goyle to be alone, the greater opportunity you give them to plot with other people."

Draco thought about that for some time, then said: "I'll let you know about the study-bedroom, Lachie."

"What about this SSK thing?"

"What about it?"

"Well, I came to Hogwarts to get a good education in a pureblood environment—and half-bloods too—there's nothing wrong with half-bloods. I don't want to waste my time on some meaningless bit of tradition that won't be any help in putting the Muggles back where they belong."

"I know as much about it as you, Lachie. You'll have to make your own mind up on that one. However there is something that I'm afraid you will have to waste your time on."

"If it's doing something for you, Draco, I suspect it'll turn out not to be a waste of time."

He actually believes all this flannel! thought Lachlan, taking in Draco's grinning face.

"You presumably saw the JIGS thing?" asked Draco.

"The what?"

"Juniors in Gay Support."

"Oh that. Yes I saw it. I think it's quite a good idea."

"Good; because I want you to join it."

"Me! Why me?"

"Because we need someone from Slytherin, and you're easily the most suitable."

"I don't understand, Draco, you can't really view me as gay; in fact none of the five Slytherins are decent candidates—well, I suppose Christopher Clark's a bit wimpy, but he's a pureblood with distinguished ancestors."

Draco laughed.

"Lachie it's not that anyone thinks you're gay; it's an inter-house organisation and Slytherin must have someone in it to report back."

"Oh, you want me to a spy. Now I understand; I'll do it, of course, but no-one'll ever believe I'm gay."

"You didn't read the notice properly: it talks about people wanting to support gay boys and people there just to make friends."

"Oh I'll manage that, Draco. In fact I might enjoy it: I've got nothing against gay boys and I'm always friendly."

"Good man!" said Malfoy.

He got up and held the door open.

"I'll let you know about that other matter, Tibbs."

"Thank you, Malfoy."

X

Their last period on Thursdays was free so the young Slytherins were able to clear off their homework and spend the evening chatting to each other.

"You had any ideas about those curfews, Tibbs?" asked Anthony Houlihan.

"Yes, quite a good one," said Lachlan.

There was a silence.

"And . . .?" said Houlihan.

"Usage is restricted, so I can't take any of you. I'll let you know if it works."

"That's not fair," said Clark.

"Why not?" said Lachlan, "You've got access to the same info as me—more, probably, as you grew up surrounded by magic folk."

"Aw man! Ye're a' mooth 'n' trooser," said MacFarlane.

"We'll see," said Lachlan, refusing to rise to further bait.

Abu changed the subject: "What did Malfoy want?"

"He wants me to join that junior gay thing."

There was obvious surprise.

"What do you want to do that for?" asked Houlihan.

"I didn't want to; Malfoy's sending me as official Slytherin representative. I don't mind, though. I don't have anything to do with gay boys, but I think it's good that they're being encouraged to band together and I don't mind supporting them."

"Rather you than me," said Houlihan.

"Why did Malfoy pick you?" asked Clark.

"We did know each when we were kids, but I think the real reason is my good memory."

"I don't understand how you can do it Tibbs," said Abu-Arefeh, "I read a chapter in A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration this afternoon, and I'm damned if I can remember any of it now. Is there a secret?"

"Not that I know of," said Lachlan.

"I wonder how many gays there are in Hogwarts," said Houlihan.

"There's at least one," said Clark, "That Bloom in Ravenclaw."

There was some laughter.

"I don't know," said Lachlan, "I think he can probably stick up for himself. Macfarlane, you know all about circumcision: do you know if boys like Bloom can have slits instead of dickies?"

There was more laughter, and MacFarlane said: "I dinnae even want tae think o' it!"

"He'll probably be at that meeting, Tibbs," laughed Houlihan, "And you can ask him yourself."

"I will, and I'll tell you what he says."

"Tell us everything that goes on, and watch out to see if it's some sort of Mudblood ruse," said Clark.

"Thanks for the tip, Clark," said Lachlan, "Though I won't use that word at the meeting."

They were sent to bed at a quarter to nine.

Lachlan was sweaty and dirty after games, and decided to take a shower.

As usual, he undressed behind his curtains and went into the shower with a towel wrapped around him.

Sean MacFarlane was taking a shower too and, as he caught up with Lachlan, twitched away his towel.

"Let it a' hang oot Tibbs!" he laughed before glancing down at what was hanging out.

His face froze and an astonished shout built up and exploded: "MERLIN'S BLOODY SCROTUM, TIBBS! WHA'ZZAT?"

"What, my dicky?" said Lachlan, "there's no need to make a fuss because it's big."

"BIG? BIG? I'VE SEEN HIPPOGRIFFS THAT WID BE THANKFUL FOR THAT! LADS! LADS! COME AN' SEE THIS!"

The other three lads came running in and gaped.

They uttered various exclamations of astonishment.

Then Houlihan said: "Ha-ha! It's a fake—and a very good fake."

"Yeah, I admit it," said Lachlan, "It's a fake and it got fake piss inside it too."

He released a maximum-flow torrent of urine over Houlihan, who squirmed and tried to get away, but was trapped in a corner.

Lachlan had a full bladder and had been planning to have a pee in the shower, but was equally happy to spray Houlihan's rear elevation from head to toe.

The other three lads were killing themselves with laughter, and Houlihan took the joke well, remarking that he thought he might have a shower too.

"But Tibbs, it's so big!" said Clark, as though no-one else had noticed this surprising fact.

"I can't see what you're making such a fuss about," said Lachlan, "My dicky's bigger than yours. So what?"

"It's not just bigger," said Abu-Arefeh, "It's three times as long and three times as wide."

"Well, three's a good, magical number," said Lachlan, "And you've got a big nose; and MacFarlane's got red hair; and Clark's got tiny ears; and Houlihan's got thick lips. Everybody's different. Now can I have my towel and go for a shower, please?"

Things quietened down, and Lachlan scrubbed quickly, emerging from the shower cubicle with his towel hiding his privates.

In the dorm, Clark and Abu-Arefeh said nothing, but stared at the bump in the front of the towel.

Lachlan passed through the curtains, got into his pyjamas, and opened his Muggle mediæval history book.

He called a cheerful goodnight.

Papyrus settled down for a companiable snooze before the night's hunting.

He heard Houlihan and MacFarlane coming from the showers.

There was the rustle of curtains, a little whispering, and then another round of goodnights.

"Tibbs, are ye wakin'?" whispered MacFarlane from the next bed.

"Hello, MacFarlane," whispered Lachlan, "That's too long a name. Shall we call you Mac?"

"Aye. Listen Tibbs does your coke e'er gae . . . ye know?"

"I don't know what you mean, Mac."

"Ye know . . . gae all stiff, like."

"I still don't know what you mean, Mac."

MacFarlane chuckled; then there was silence.

Lachlan's dicky was indeed stiff, like and he intended to give it a good rubbing when he got to the end of the chapter.

"Tibbs, are ye waking yet?" whispered MacFarlane.

"Yes, Mac."

"Tibbs is a gey short name. Shall we ca' ye Tibby?"

"Yes, Mac."

Lachlan had reached the end of the chapter . . .

. . . Next morning, Draco told him: "You'll be moved into Study-Bedroom Three today."

"I knew three was a magical number," said Lachlan.

CHAPTER FOUR— Lachlan by Day and by Night

Friday morning came, and Lachlan woke up happy.

He was moving to his own room; he had an afternoon off to explore; best of all, if things worked out, he would have a midnight adventure.

He was so full of beans that he had to do something.

Rather than giving Mountjoy a rub, he decided to have a walk round the grounds.

At five past six, he walked out the front door and set off for the lake. He watched the birds for a while. There were a lot of new ones to him. He would write and get his mother to send his bird-book.

He walked up on to the scrubby bank overlooking the lake. There was no trace of rodents, but plenty of cigarette-ends.

He walked down to the flat and along the edge of the Forbidden Forest listening to the birds that were still calling this late in the year.

"Oi!" came a shout.

Oh no: it was Professor Hagrid: an awful teacher, and one who seemed to be a depressive, as well as a depressing, character.

"Wha' yer doin' lurkin' 'bout 'ere?"

"I'm not lurking, Sir; I'm just looking and listening to the birds."

"Don' yer go inside the Forest; there's dang'rous beas' there."

"What, like ravens, Sir? They're meant to have something to do with death."

"Oh yeah? You 'eard ravens did yer?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What else did you hear?"

"The ravens' cousins: rooks, carrions, madges, jays—and something like—I guess hooded crows—never heard them before; spadger-hawks—male and female—buzzards, some other hawk; robins; green and spotted woodpeckers—bit late for them to be drumming—must be a bit of spring magic left; one silly stormcock, but no doves or pigeons, which is amazing."

"The Centaurs shoot 'em down with arrers. Good eatin' on 'em."

"Specially a fat wood pigeon, Sir."

There was a cluck-cluck from the forest.

"Old cock pheasant keeping his girls with him over winter," said Lachlan, "Even better eating on them."

"Yer likes birds, don' yer. Tibbs, isn't it?"

"Yes Sir; they call me Tibby now."

"Well, Tibby, I gotta go."

Having found a bit of spirit during their talk, Hagrid now suddenly seemed as depressed as ever and trudged into the Forest with a large sack across his shoulder. Lachlan saw that whatever was inside was wriggling.

"Goodbye, Sir," he said to the retreating back.

X

Back at the castle, he was too hungry to wait for the official breakfast hours.

Using the dead-reckoning skills of a boy who had been walking in woods and in the dark since he was five, he found an area vertically below the Great Hall.

It was a wide corridor with lots of paintings . . . but only one painting with food on it . . . touch each one . . . ah that one moved . . . tickle . . . yes!

As he tickled a bright green pear, it Transfigured into a door-handle, which Lachlan turned. The picture opened like a door and Lachlan entered a kitchen which, as he had expected, was occupied by bustling house-elves.

An elderly male came to greet him: "Good morning, Master. How may we help you?"

"A bacon sandwich, please—just one—I know you house-elves always try to stuff wizards too much—and an orange juice, please."

A plate of five bacon sandwiches appeared very soon.

He thought as he munched about Mac and Tibby.

He had used Mac merely as a handy shortening; but that couldn't be Mac's reason for calling him Tibby.

Why, then?

He pondered about establishing or demonstrating closeness, defusing a threat, expressing superiority, putting fear into enemies.

He didn't usually think about things deeply in this way; and he didn't usually come to conclusions like this: could it be that MacFarlane was demonstrating affection for Lachlan?

And had Lachlan felt affection for MacFarlane too?

Were people meant to like each other?

He had always felt benevolent to everyone, but he had never had a friend; had never understood why people would want to have friends.

This morning, he had felt such pity for that sad oaf of a giant that he had shown it in the way that had come to him without thinking: call me Tibby meant I am your friend.

He had seen friendship at his Muggle school and at Hogwarts—less in Slytherin than other houses; and he had seen it as time-wasting and weakness, but now . . ."

His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of an extraordinarily overdressed personage.

A house-elf! Dressed!

"Master Lachlan, Sir?"

"Dobby?"

"Ah, Master Lachlan remembers Dobby."

"Of course I remember you, Dobby. Are you here to serve Draco?"

The elf drew himself up: "Dobby serves no-one, Master Lachlan. Dobby is a free elf."

"So you're here to freely support Harry Potter?"

"Harry Potter freed Dobby, Master Lachlan. He tricked Master into giving him clothes."

"Good for him! But Dobby, you must call me Tibby."

"I could never do that, Master Lachlan. Tibby sounds like an elf-name."

"What's wrong with that? You just call me Tibby, and I won't care if people think I'm an elf. Come on try it now."

Dobby was squirming with a mixture of happiness and embarrassment; and with a touch of the old servile fear.

"T-tibby," he managed.

"That's good. I like being called Tibby."

"Is T-tibby in Harry Potter's Gryffindor, Master Lachlan?"

"No, I'm in Slytherin with Draco."

"Master Draco is naughty, Master—Tibby."

Dobby had seen an admonishing finger.

"He got it all from Mr Malfoy," said Lachlan, "Perhaps Draco'll change for the better now his father's in prison."

"Do you think so . . . er?"

"Yes, things will get better. You'll see. Now I must go. Thanks for breakfast."

"Thank you . . . er . . ."

Lachlan left the kitchen and went up to the ground floor.

Suddenly Dobby's description of Draco as naughty brought back the memory that Lachlan had once given Draco a hard spanking on his bottom.

He hoped Draco had forgotten that occasion. Draco was a big, strong boy, and if he took his revenge, it would really hurt.

He went into the yard on the ground floor. He preferred that one to the dark Slytherin yard because you got daylight.

He didn't have a book with him, but he couldn't be bothered going to get one.

He went into his favourite cubicle, lowered his underpants, and sat down.

He thought about friendship again.

He had read about Charles Darwin and his theory of the survival of the fittest. This meant that everything people and animals did, except thinking, was dictated by Nature to help them survive.

Getting along with other people was obviously part of that, but where did friendship come in? Was there a reason for liking other people? And the ones you didn't like: were you meant to hate them? And what about if they liked you, and you didn't like them, or the other way round?

He stopped thinking about that problem. There was some poo coming.

He felt it approaching his bumhole, then pushing it open. He held it there for a while. This was one of life's treats like eating, and rubbing Mountjoy. He allowed the lump of poo to wiggle backwards and forwards, stretching and unstretching his ring, before letting it pass through slowly and luxuriantly until it broke away and splashed into the pan.

He wiped himself, and went downstairs to the dorm.

The boys were in various stages of getting ready for the day.

MacFarlane was sitting on his bed putting on a sock.

"Morning, Tibby," he said.

"Morning, Mac."

"I suppose you're going to tell us you broke curfew, Tibbs," called, Houlihan, sneeringly.

"No, that's tonight," said Lachlan.

"I'll set my alarm for five to six. Then we'll see."

"No you won't. I won't be here anyway. I'm moving out."

"Ye're leavin' Hogwarts?" said MacFarlane. He looked shocked.

"No, I'm moving into Study-Bedroom Three today."

They were all amazed.

"How come you get your own room?" asked Houlihan.

"Don't know."

"You must be important," said Clark.

"Is it to do with Malfoy?" asked Houlihan.

"Or Zabini?" asked Abu-Arefeh.

"Don't know."

The other boys made to go for breakfast.

"Comin' Tibby?" said MacFarlane.

"No, I already had two bacon sandwiches."

The four boys stopped.

"Where'd you get them?" asked Mac.

"Went down to the kitchen. The house-elves made them for me."

"Ye're an awfy man, Tibby," said Mac, as the four boys left the dorm.

Lachlan wondered if Mac meant that he was impressed; or did he think he was a liar?

Who cared? He had his own room!

X

The first lesson of the day was English and Latin with the Hufflepuffs.

He thought Latin was the better language: so logical with the different words having different endings.

They'd fouled up on the articles, though.

There was something that puzzled him, and he raised his hand.

"What is it, Tibbs?"

He liked Mrs English.

"Please call me Tibby, Miss. My friends call me Tibby."

There was some quiet tittering round the room.

Mrs English peered through the thick glass of her spectacles.

"Is that what you raised your arm to tell me, Tibbs?"

"No miss: it's about order of words. You said the normal order was subject, object, verb, but the sentence would mean the same if the words were changed round. You can say either agricola puellam amat or puellam agricola amat, but if they're there to be used, people must have used them, and they must have had different meanings."

"Romans of different social classes had different usages," said Mrs English, "But in general, you could say that the first word has some dominance in the sense of the sentence."

"So puellam agricola amat means that it is the girl the farmer loves, as opposed to the boy, or the farmhorse, or something?"

There was more amusement.

"Correct, Tibbs. You should be aware, though, that wizards and witches use the purest forms, and would eschew such a usage as colloquial. A good question. One point to Slytherin."

"Thank you, Miss."

Lachlan knew what that meant know; and he couldn't have cared less.

At break, MacFarlane threw him to the ground again, and wrestled him.

"Ca' me Tibby!" he shouted, "And lead me tae the farmer who loves the boy and the horse!"

Lachlan decided that, with all these people around, a show of strength might be a good idea, and then he'd let MacFarlane defeat him next time.

He rolled over, wrapped an arm around MacFarlane's thighs, and was preparing to throw him, when the beautiful Mackenzie twins jumped on top.

One of them shouted: "Leave our Tibby alone!"

The other went: "Tibby! Tibby! Tibby! Tibby!"

As the four boys rolled laughing and shouting on the ground, some of the boys and girls in the class took up the cry: Tibby! Tibby! Tibby!

After a few seconds, they rolled apart.

Lachlan pulled up MacFarlane, saying: "Come on Mac; let's get some milk."

They fetched a bottle each from the castle and emerged into the sunlight.

Lachlan scanned the area, and noticed, not for the first time, how girls and boys mixed at Hogwarts. At Muggle school, girls and boys always played separately—even the gay boys and girls.

Perhaps when you got older, and the girls had a fanny, you wanted to be with them more.

It wasn't just the older boys, though: he saw two little boys and two little girls huddled together chatting.

They were small—probably second-years.

He looked closely at one of them.

He knew him: it was the boy from the seaside public convenience.

"Come on, Mac," he shouted, "there's someone I know."

As he approached the boy he saw that he bore a strained and unhappy look, as indeed he had when Lachlan had seen him at the bus stop.

"Hello; remember me?" he said.

The boy turned, and Lachlan just had time to see the glance from the beautiful green eyes before the boy turned a further one hundred and eighty degrees and vomited a third of a pint of milk onto the lawn.

The boy's three companions jumped backward with an urgh!

MacFarlane roared with laughter, and shouted: "Aye, that's what we all felt when we saw Tibby first time!"

Lachlan was more concerned. He'd done it again. Without meaning to, he'd upset this harmless boy.

"You'd better get to the hospital wing," he said.

"I'll be alright," said the boy.

"I'm taking you there just to be safe."

He turned to the boy's friends: "Who have you got next?" he asked.

"Herbology," said one of the girls.

"Tell Professor Sprout, what's happened; and Mac, tell Prof Darrington. Come on, you."

He put an arm around the shoulder of the sick boy, and steered him towards the hospital wing.

He felt protective of the boy, just as he would with an injured creature.

He suppressed a laugh when he recalled that the last injured creature that he had dealt with had been a starling that he had battered out of its misery.

He'd never put his arm around a boy before, but it felt comfortable.

His chief aim at present was to make sure this boy was well.

Charles Darwin again: look after your species, but kill those too weak to be looked after.

But that couldn't explain why it felt so comfortable.

Others boys at Hogwarts must feel the same: Lachlan had seen quite a few boys walking in an embrace as he and this sad boy were walking at present—boys who clearly didn't need comfort after taking ill. Come to think of it, he had sometimes seen boys holding hands. He had put it down as a joke, but perhaps they were doing it for pleasure.

For some reason the image of the sad boy having a poo came to mind.

Madam Pomfrey was sympathetic, and examined the boy carefully.

"You'll do," she said, "Lee Shepherd, isn't it?"

"Yes, Miss"

"Drink this potion and sit in the day-room for half an hour. You'd better keep him company. Lachlan Tibbs, isn't it? The textbook boy."

"Yes, Miss."

They sat silently for a few minutes.

Then Lachlan said: "Shepherd, you've got me wrong. I'm not going to betray you to anyone."

"Thanks," muttered Shepherd.

"You must be a nervy character. I don't think anyone's going to be in the least bit bothered about five pee."

"Five pee?"

"You know, the five pee that you and your father cheated the Borough Council out of."

"What? I never."

"Don't take me for an idiot. You and your father went in to a cubicle together and had two poos for the price of one. I saw you."

"Oh . . . yeah."

"And you panicked. You didn't need to. I'm safe, honest."

"Thanks Tibbs."

"My friends call me Tibby."

"Thanks, Tibby. You're very kind."

"Not at all; I've missed Maths, which is good."

"And I've missed Herbology, which is bad: I like Herbology."

"What have you got after?"

"Free period."

"Perfect. I've got games. If it were the other way about, you'd probably bring your tummy up again."

The boys laughed.

They were silent for a few seconds, then Shepherd said: "Was that Tibby they were shouting earlier?"

"Yeah, we were wrestling—just a laugh. Do you like wrestling?"

"Not really."

"How do you feel, by the way?"

"Fine. Tummy's okay; and I'm not so upset."

"I saw Matron pour stuff out of two bottles. I bet it was Calming Potion and Alimentary Mydear Potion. Do you feel calmer?"

"Yes."

"You'll have to try not to get upset so easily."

"I don't normally, but I'm going through a difficult time."

"Why's that?"

"Well, my family's short of money, and my love affair's on the rocks."

"I know nothing about love affairs, but I could lend you fifty Galleons if you want."

"I couldn't, Tibby, thanks."

"Well, the offer's open—wait a minute! You tried to bribe me with ten Muggle Pounds! How come you were wandering about with all that money?"

"Er . . . it was to pay the rent."

"Bloody Hecate! No wonder you've got money problems. Ten pounds to cover a five pee crime. That's odds of . . . er . . . twenty to one . . . er . . . two thousand to one."

"Two hundred to one, actually," laughed Lachlan, "You'd better not miss any more of Professor Darrington's lessons."

"That's better. You look much nicer when you're happy and your green eyes sparkle like that."

Madam Pomfrey appeared and pronounced her patient fit for reintegration into society.

The two boys separated when Lachlan ran to get his games kit.

"See yer, Tibby," shouted Shepherd.

"Promise not to be sick when you do see me."

"I promise."

Thirty minutes later, Lachlan was back at the hospital centre, gritting his teeth, with his arm in a sling.

"Oh there you are, Tibbs," said Madam Pomfrey, "How I've missed you. Let me see . . . yes . . . yes . . . broken collarbone."

She repaired the bone with a wave of her wand.

"Would you like a calming potion, dear?"

"No thank you, Miss."

Lachlan ran to the library and quilled an owl to his mother:

Dear Mummy,

I like it at Hogwarts. I am getting my own room. I am bad at flying. Please send A Guide to British and European Birds. Also a few Mills and Boon books, if Nanny can spare them.

With love from Lachlan Tibbs (Tibby)

Then it was lunchtime.

X

Lachlan spent the afternoon marking in the correct pronunciations in his Latin textbook, which was all to cock.

Before dinner, it was time to introduce himself to his new home.

He beheld with delight his own little table and chair; his books neatly stacked in his own little bookcase; his clothes neatly arranged in his own little wardrobe; and in the middle, his own little bed with his own little cat snoozing on the cover.

"How did you know, Papyrus?" he said, stroking the cat's side.

His former companions came to admire the room.

There was less envy than might be expected, as boy wizards tend to be more sensitive to night-time threats than Muggles, and prefer company. In fact, Clark and Houlihan always slept with their curtains open.

There was a slightly amusing incident at dinner.

A big boy—a man, really—strode from the Hufflepuff table and told Lachlan: "Tibbs, I thought I should thank you on behalf of Hufflepuff for taking care of Shepherd today."

Lachlan meant to say: Don't be silly—anyone would have done the same, but this was a bit of a mouthful when you had another sort of mouthful, so he abbreviated his reply to a jocular: "Piss off!"

Clearly any nuances in the expression were lost, and the man pissed off with a look of surprise.

Lachlan immediately realised he'd been a bit clumsy, but so what? It was done now, anyway. He'd apologise later.

After dinner, the five Slytherins went outside and played Wizard Croquet until it was too cold, then came into the warm Slytherin common room.

At a quarter to nine they were sent to bed.

Lachlan got into bed and Papyrus snuggled up.

"Don't you leave early," he told the cat.

Papyrus usually went out just before dawn.

Lachlan set the alarm on his wristwatch for midnight, and had three hours of deep sleep before the irritating beeps awoke him.

He was on the point of turning over and going back to sleep, when he remembered.

He was going to explore the castle!

He got up and dressed.

"Now, Papyrus," he said, "Don't let me down."

He picked up the cat, and swung him as though intending to push him through the magic cat-flap, but retained his grip.

The he clutched the cat to his chest and walked towards his door.

His foot struck the solid wood.

He backed off, turned around, and advanced again.

This time, a boy-flap appeared—four feet high and opening like a casement window—only Muggle cat-flaps are up and over.

Still holding Papyrus, Lachlan crouched and pushed his way through the flap.

There were no noisy Alarms and Announcements.

"You did it!" he whispered, and kissed his cat.

He walked down the corridor, passing a room occupied by two loud snorers. He wondered if they were Crabbe and Goyle.

He traversed the common room, and could have simply walked out of Slytherin, but decided to have one more go with the boy-flap

For a second time, Papyrus did the trick.

He kissed Papyrus and lowered him to the floor. Working cats need a break.

For the rest of the night, Papyrus was sometimes with Lachlan, sometimes chasing real or imaginary mice, and sometimes wandering off on his own mysterious cat-business.

Lachlan went down Professor Snape's corridor first. All the doors were locked. He remembered that there was an Unlocking Charm—Alohomora!—in a book he'd read in the library, but he'd try it simpler locks first—he expected these doors to have powerful password protection.

He found that there were other classrooms and junkrooms that were left open.

Then he came to what must surely be the entrance to Hufflepuff. They must have cats. Maybe Papyrus could get him into other houses. That would be fun. They could have raiding parties.

But that was for the future: tonight was for exploring.

He went up and down a few magic and normal staircases. He found a secret passage that took him from the ground floor to the second floor while seemingly walking on the level.

He found a locked classroom on the second floor.

He took out Crusher and tried Alohomora! again and again before getting it to work after ten minutes' hard effort.

Then he realised that he had to learn another charm to lock the door again.

This time, it only took five minutes before Colloportus! produced the nice, clunky sound of a turning key.

Then it was time to try Classroom 3E, where Sunday's meeting would be.

But this time his run of success came to an end.

The lock was uncrackable. It must be password-protected.

He could check for a cat-flap, but felt that he should save Papyrus for the more important doors, and before he knew which the most important were, he would have to explore the castle more thoroughly.

As though to say thanks for Lachlan's consideration, Papyrus appeared from around a corner, and ran up to him, purring and coiling around his legs.

Lachlan was about to bend down for a stroke when a big boy came around the corner.

Lachlan recognised him as one of Harry Potter's friends from Gryffindor; a very pretty boy with an air of goodwill.

They introduced themselves and smiled at each other.

He thought the boy was beautiful—nearly as beautiful as the twins—though blemished by an ugly red and blue bruise on his neck.

He guessed that he had been attacked by one of Professor Hagrid's creatures—they probably did some dangerous stuff in fifth-year.

For some reason, the concept of friendship came into Lachlan's mind again. There was also respect: this Colin Creevey had escaped the curfew too.

As though reading his mind, Colin said: "How did you break out?"

"My secret, Colin. How did you break out?"

"My secret, Tibby."

The two boys laughed merrily.

Then Colin said: "I'm impressed that a first-year—a first week, even—should have managed it. Did you have private tuition?"

"What in wizarding? Fat chance. Mum and Dad are magical, but Mum and me live in a Muggle household in a Muggle village, and I went to a Muggle school."

"I'm totally Muggle-born."

Lachlan laughed loudly.

"I see you're looking closely at me, Colin. Blood status doesn't matter a damn, but you'll understand that, having landed in Slytherin, I have to keep those thoughts to myself—for now, anyway.

"You're not the usual sort of Slytherin."

"It's all a load of bullshit, Colin. They'd be better sorting at random than basing it on character. It's probably a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Absolutely! . . . Tibby, if you can't tell me how you broke out, can you tell me why?"

"General spirit of adventure—it's a challenge to be faced; and rebelliousness—I don't see why Dumbledore or anyone else should tell me what to do out of school hours. Was that why you broke out too?"

"No, not originally: I wanted to visit my, er brother's dorm. I got out of mine but couldn't get into his. Can you get into other boys' dorms?"

"Haven't tried. It's such good fun breaking out, and you must think that too, 'cos here you are!"

"I also hoped for some company."

"That could be me, if it's right that I substitute for your brother."

"Of course it's right."

Colin was surprised: Tibby appeared to think that some important moral issue was involved."

"Right I'm your company," said Tibby, "Let's go exploring together."

"Yeah! Which way?"

"I missed out the first floor."

"Let's go then."

The two boys had a lot of fun discovering some of the Hogwarts secrets.

Then they heard the sound of voices.

They froze and listened.

"It's not Filch," whispered Colin.

"It's young voices—big boys voices," whispered Lachlan.

They crept towards the sound, which resolved itself into two boys intoning what was presumably a spell in unison, discussing why it didn't work, and trying again.

They poked their head around a corridor and saw two boys.

"Slytherins," said Colin.

"Darren Ayling and Jonathan Gunning," said Lachlan.

The two big boys had their wands out and were trying to cast a spell on a large stone statue.

"Listen," said Colin, "If we can hide this side of the suit of armour half way down on the right, we can see and hear."

"Okay," said Lachlan, "When they're shouting the spell, I'll make a run for it. You follow afterwards."

"Don't knock the armour over."

The boys choked back their giggles.

Lachlan waited for a particularly long discussion, when multiple attempts at the spell could be expected.

He made his break, running at a crouch to the cover of the armour.

The Slytherins noticed nothing.

Colin joined him in a few minutes and the two boys crouched by the left side of the armour, Lachlan low and Colin higher, with his hands on Lachlan's shoulders.

The Slytherins were casting a spell that obviously needed an exact unison that was not being achieved.

Depello Praesidium Totum! they declaimed repeatedly.

"NO!" said one boy, "DePELLo PrySIDeeoom TOToom."

"No," said the other, it's DePELL-O PrySID-eeoom TOT-oom. Like Italian."

They argued and tried all sorts of variations until one of the boys shouted: "It's three o'clock; there's Quidditch trials tomorrow; I'm going to bed."

"We'll get into trouble," whined the other.

"You can only do so much, come on."

The big boys left.

When it was safe, Colin and Lachlan got up and stretched.

Lachlan felt a vague sense of loss. Then he realised that he had quite enjoyed having Colin pressing his body against him, with his hands gripping Lachlan's shoulders.

"What do you make of that?" asked Colin.

"You're asking me? I've only been here five days."

"What about the Latin?"

"Perhaps Totum means all."

"No, that's omnis."

"Well one thing I do make of it is they're up to no good. There seems to all sorts of secret stuff going on in Slytherin. You seem a good sort. I'll let you know what I find out, shall I?"

"Oh yes please. We've lost all our right-minded men in Slytherin, so it's fabulous meeting you."

"It's good knowing you, Colin—I mean Creevey—we'd better keep it secret that we've met."

"Agreed. I say, Tibby—I mean Tibbs—do you fancy sleeping out. We could find an empty room."

"Not Likely! I've got a nice bed waiting for me."

"Er . . ." said Colin, then seemed to change his mind: "I'll see you to Slytherin, then."

"There's no need."

"I'm older so I should."

"Okay, then."

The two boys strolled amicably downwards.

They were proceeding along a ground floor corridor when a classroom door opened and someone came out furtively.

It was the big boy Lachlan had told to piss off.

The parties stared at each other in astonishment.

The big boy spoke first: "Colin, I don't know how you got out, but do you think it was wise to involve a boy who's only been at Hogwarts for five days?"

"I got myself out," said Lachlan, "And only met Creevey by accident, so don't go blaming him, and I owe you an apology: I meant to say don't mention it, it was a pleasure and a duty to help your little Shepherd in distress but it came out a bit sharp."

"That's what Lee said. He thought you were very kind, though he was sad that you had to step in when his friends let him down."

"I hadn't thought of that. Anyway, I'll give you a great big public apology tomorrow."

"Don't do that!" said Colin, sharply, "It'll do you no end of good in Slytherin, and that's what we want. You'll be a Slytherin legend: the first-year who told the Head Boy to piss off."

"Are you Head Boy?" said Lachlan, "What are you called?"

"Andrew Merryweather."

"Call me Tibby and I'll be even more of a Slytherin legend. Now I'm for bed."

"Can you manage by yourself, Tibby?" said Colin, "I'd like a word with Merryweather on a different topic."

"Yeah, of course."

He shook Colin's hand.

"Goodnight, Colin."

"Goodnight, Tibby."

He shook Merryweather's hand.

"Goodnight, Merryweather."

"Piss Off!"

The corridor rang with happy laughter as Lachlan ran towards the stairs.

Inside Slytherin, he thought he'd check whether he was still part of his dormitory.

He opened the door, but could not cross the threshold.

Still, while he was there, he might as well let the others known that he wasn't a liar—if it was possible.

It was possible: his Firecracker Charm crossed the threshold okay and brought some nervous, questing boys peeping towards the door.

"Just popped in to say goodnight, chaps," he said before closing the door.

He went to his room and was soon in bed, with Papyrus curled up next to him and an eager Mountjoy in his hand.

He suddenly remembered about wrestling with Mac and the twins: he had squeezed a MacKenzie bottom. It was tiny and hard.

He rubbed Mountjoy, trying to keep it slow, but the speed increased of its own accord, and soon he was being raised heavenwards.

What a brilliant day!

—CHAPTER FIVE— Colin and the Commandos

When Colin saw that the beautiful white cat had led him to Tibbs, his heart sank a little: here was the bumptious little—well, not little—Slytherin who had insulted Hufflepuff and Hogwarts.

The boy's smile, though, reminded him that the insult had taken courage; and word was that he had broken some bones by falling off his broomstick, and not yelled at all; and his very presence here tonight demonstrated, at the very least, precocious opportunism.

The boys introduced themselves, and under more of the sunshine of Tibby's smile, Colin's doubts vanished. As they roamed the complicated magical and material structures of Hogwarts, he felt himself in the presence of an intrinsically honest boy—devious and dishonest, of course, or he wouldn't be in Slytherin—but honest where it mattered: being honest with honest people.

Then Tibby's coolness as they spied on—was it Darren Ayling and Jonathan Gunning?—was impressive for an eleven-year-old. Harry Potter must have been like that.

As he crouched with his hands holding Tibby's broad, but bony, shoulders and his body against the boy's back, Colin felt a surge of lust.

He bent his head surreptitiously and smelled the boy's mousey hair: shampoo plus a spicy boyish savour that reminded him of James Carter, whose head had been near to Colin's during some moments of relaxation and horseplay.

The thought of the delectable James—currently wasting his attentions on a Ravenclaw girl—gave Colin's animal sensuality another kick, and his erection pressed against the small of Tibby's back.

Just three inches lower was the dark, mysterious entrance that would give him such exultation were he ever to penetrate it.

Reminding himself that this was just night-starvation, which could be easily cured with a wank, Colin concentrated on the two Slytherins and their no doubt unpleasant Charm.

When he and Tibby were alone again, Colin thought that it would be nice to sleep with him. And harmless: they could just be close and Colin could have an undercover wank.

But Tibby said no.

Colin thought of making an explicit request, but decided that that would be unethical: surely Tibby needed weeks, not days, to be sufficiently genned up to make him fair game.

Then Merryweather had turned up.

After Tibby had left, he turned to Colin.

"You wanted to talk about something else, Colin?"

"Yes, Merryweather."

"Call me Andrew—and that's not just you: I want to make myself available to everyone in School."

Colin Giggled: "Hold your horses, Andrew; we'll come on to that in a minute. The first thing is: can you please keep tonight secret from everybody. Tibby's not the usual sort of Slytherin, and an insider friend is not to be betrayed."

"Of course, Colin. You know you can trust the Hufflepuffs. Don't forget we fouled up that Lux Solis potion for you.

Another powerfully sexual image came into Colin's mind: fifteen boys pissing and masturbating into the Slytherin cauldron.

"Thanks, Andrew," he said, "The other thing is: I wondered what you're doing here, and I'm guessing you've been seeing Twist?"

"If only!" smiled Merryweather, wryly, "We were meant to meet down here at two o'clock, but he must have fallen asleep after his Wizard Alarm—he often does that. I gave him an hour and decided to call it a night."

"Why don't you meet in one of your dorms?"

"In the first place, we like privacy; and now there's this new curfew."

"So prefect's privileges allow you to get out of your own dorm but not into another dorm?"

"Correct. Anyway, we like our little love-nest in that classroom. The two of us have spent many happy times there."

"Three with Simon Hibbard."

"Yeah, it's a shame we had to cut Simon out, but the Head Boy and his deputy can't be seen to be showing favouritism—particularly to an immature third-year boy."

Colin maintained discretion: all of Gryffindor had felt that Gordon Twist would have made a better Head Boy than Andrew Merryweather.

"Simon is immature, isn't he?" said Colin, "My brother Dennis thinks he's the most self-centred person he's ever met."

"Yes, last year Gordon and I thought that, emotionally, he was an eight-year-old in a twelve-year-old's body. But he was mature enough to sign up with the Gay Champions."

"What did you think when they picked him for you."

"Ideal. We wanted to be watched, and to have someone to talk with us afterwards. Simon loved watching, and later on, when we allowed him to touch as well, he was so happy."

"And swollen-headed."

"Well he's thirteen now, and I'm sure he'll soon learn that other people matter and it takes two to tango."

"Talking of tangoing, Andrew, do you think you'd enjoy it and do you think Twist would mind if I shagged you to kingdom come in your little love-nest?"

"Gordon won't mind, and I'm desperate. Come on!"

The boys ran to the classroom, and Andrew locked them in and sound-proofed them with a couple of wand-twiddles. Then he magicked up a large divan bed with red and pink coverings in silk, satin and velvet.

The lighting scheme was red and pink too.

Twist and Merryweather must be as camp as anything underneath their bluff, sporty manliness.

Colin had scarcely taken in his surroundings when Andrew pulled them together.

They wrapped their arms around each other and touched their lips in a featherlight contact that soon became hard and passionate. Andrew was impatient: his tongue pushed against Colin's lips, bore into his mouth, and explored the inside. Their tongues started to rub together, and Andrew let rip with a series of loud, uncontrolled moans.

Then he broke off the kiss.

"Clothes! Now!" he croaked, ripping off his own and casting a couple of lubricating charms.

"Now, Colin, now!" he shouted, as he lay down on the divan.

Colin had barely time as he undressed to take in the British Standard penis, the thick, fair pubic hair and the wispy chest-hair before Andrew was shouting again.

"Now, Colin, now!"

Colin lay on top of Andrew.

The Head Boy was desperate.

Colin lifted his legs, exposing a big, dark bumhole surrounded by hair that looked orange in the ambient light.

He pressed the tip of his dripping willy against the hole.

"Ram it up now!" screamed Andrew, "Stuff it in!"

Colin held his willy firmly and pushed inside Andrew.

Before it was half-way in, he removed his hand and plunged the whole length in as hard as he could, ignoring Andrew's screams.

He rested his chest against Andrew's and sought his lips for a kiss, but the lips were too busy shouting: "Shag me, Colin! Shag me hard. Bang into me!"

He started shagging Andrew, giving him two strokes, before, in response to more entreaties from Andrew, he abandoned all attempts at control and hammered into the bumhole with as much strength and speed as he could manage.

This was different from what he was used to: he was having real sex with a real man.

It felt tremendous, and became more so as Andrew's screams became muffled as he bit into Colin's neck and a bigger and bigger mass of goo appeared under Colin's stomach and chest.

He carried on battering Andrew hard and as quickly as possible.

Then, after a time, came the immense pressure to release his juices and they heaved their way into Andrew's secret passage as Colin screamed in transports of frenzy.

Heaved and heaved and heaved: it was one of the longest and deepest orgasms that Colin had ever had.

He slowed down and stopped at last.

He was panting as though he had just run a mile.

He rested his lips against Andrew's.

Andrew was panting hard too.

Colin could feel the huge mass of stickiness: Andrew must have come gallons.

They lay still for a few minutes.

Eventually, Colin got some of his breath back.

"Merlin's beard, Andrew!" he said, "You needed that, didn't you?"

"Haven't had any all week. Me and Gordon left it until the weekend. We went to Spain for a week, and my body got used to four or five a day, plus the odd time I gave him a poke—oh, and the occasional sucking."

"Sounds Heaven."

"It was Heaven, and it still would be if it wasn't for N.E.W.T.'s"

"And the curfews—oh they don't affect you much, do they?"

"No, but I have the greatest sympathy for those they do affect."

Colin giggled and said: "Orderly . . . Controlled . . . Leadership . . . Establishment Figure . . . Responsible."

"What are you on about?"

"These are words that I always associated with you, Andrew. Now I know that you're a raving sex-junkie."

"Everyone has sex, Colin; and everyone goes to the loo; but we run the public face of our society as though basic physical functions don't exist. And a good job too: how could we learn Charms, for example, if every time we looked at Professor Flitwick we thought of him having a poo?"

Colin giggled: "Now you've said that, it'll be with me in every Charms class."

"I hope not. The most important part of a person is their character."

"Agreed; but sometimes it hard not to think of them as . . . I don't know . . . say the Weasley's red hair. They'd still be Weasleys if they had black hair."

"And I've got my own special problem."

"What's that?"

"I always thought of you as Sweet Colin Weasley. Well, you're still Sweet Colin Weasley, but now when I look at you, I'll think of your great big cock."

"It's not that big. We once had a friend in Slytherin with one two inches longer than mine."

"That must have been Adrian Pucey. Brilliant Quidditch player too. Like our little Tibby: not a typical Slytherin."

"We all miss him."

"Times move on. And the time is moving on, but there's still time for . . ."

Both their willies were growing again, and Colin started pushing in and out.

Before long, Colin was pitching into Andrew again.

This time it was more controlled, and Colin selected a steadier rate, though pushing as deep as he could.

They had a good, long shag, but eventually Andrew's bum started asking for more, and Colin quickened the tempo, walloping into Andrew and producing more falsetto whoops of delight from the two boys, as the semen gushed again.

"Do you want to spend the rest of the night here?" asked Andrew.

"No, I'd better get back."

They cleaned up the room and set off in opposite directions.

"Gordon's a lucky boy!" shouted Colin.

He got back to Gryffindor, restored Ray's badge, and got into his bed.

"Nothing's perfect," he thought, "It would have been nice to have had Dennis's tongue licking my bum."

Then he fell asleep.

X

Next morning, Colin was shaken awake by Ray and Stewart at nine o'clock.

"Wake up sleepy-head," said Ray, "Anyone'd think you'd been up all night."

He followed them into the Great Hall, trying to think how he could get a second prefects' badge, and sat down with Alexander.

"Didn't work," he whispered, "I got out mine without setting off the Alarm, but I couldn't get into yours."

"Shall we meet somewhere today? Can I contribute to the Inch Tool neck-destruction project?"

"Yes—Oh, what's this?"

An owl had flown down from the rafters, and offered Colin a parchment.

It was a letter from Danny.

"No reply," he said, "I'll send one of the Hogwarts owls later."

He gave the owl a chunk of Alex's bacon, and it flew up to the high windows and disappeared.

He read Danny's letter carefully.

"Danny's had an idea," he said, "I'll get back to you later today, Relaxing Lad." (the endearment being an anagram of Darling Alex).

"Okay, Inch Tool." (Hot Colin)

He handed the letter over to Dennis.

"Read that, Bro!"

Dennis read:

Darling Brothers,

Another thought.

Dad's company supplies Gallons of a Potion called Beddybyebyes to all sorts of institutions, including Hoggy.

One teaspoonful doesn't have any physical effect like making you sleep or anything but it prepares the brain to accept the idea of sleep. One teaspoonful in the old folks' tea and they're not trying to go on the rampage any more.

If a Hoggy student went back to get his stuff after breakfast and drank a teaspoonful in a glass of water I think the Alarm Charm would think he'd gone to bed and blow off when they went down to lessons. A few days of this, and the credibility would be blown and they might switch it off.

Madam P has gallons of the stuff, not in the poisons cupboard so it's accessible. Pinch a pint but replace it with clear water as she does a magic inventory every morning.

If you want vials, they're freely available in Potions. Ten Points to Gryffindor.

Good luck!

E4PH

From your brother Danny.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Good plan, isn't it Den?"

"And good fun!"

"We'll just wait till Sea Jay and Jonny come down, then we'll start deciding how to do it."

"They've been down. They hovered a big breakfast up on a tray. They're going to spend the day in bed."

"Bugger that! You've nearly finished, Den. When you're done, go and roust them out."

Dennis vanished, and Colin went to sit with Alexander.

Alexander had been left alone, his playmates off after girls, or in the case of Peter Jones, his boyfriend, Caerwen.

Simon Hibbard was also alone.

"Come and join us, Simon," Colin called.

He had a feeling that Dennis might be some time, and that he might have to take over persuasion duties with the happy couple.

In the meantime, here was a human problem.

Simon came over and sat down.

"I was thinking about you last night," said Colin.

"Oh yeah?"

Simon was clearly torn between suspicion and pride.

"I get the feeling that you're a bit more mentally mature now."

"What you mean more?"

"Well I was very pleased you weren't lording it over the new first-years like you did last year, and I actually saw you helping them out. It made me ever-so-happy."

"Did it?"

"Yes. Well done."

Dennis appeared, eyed Simon warily, and said: "They're coming."

He sat down.

"I was just saying to Simon how much more mature he is this year, Den," said Colin.

"Oh yeah?"

"Where have I heard that before?" laughed Colin, "Come on Den, darling, give the boy a chance; don't hold his sins against him for ever. Shake hands for a fresh start."

"I love my brother, so Simon Hibbard, fresh start."

"Fresh start," said Simon.

The boys shook hands—still wary, but at least it was the start of the fresh start, Colin thought.

Colin had exaggerated: Simon was still immature, but with the notion that he might help others, and Dennis ready to correct him rather than do him down, things should go on the up.

"Now never mind fresh starts," laughed Dennis, "There's a fresh tart in the house. Look at the state of him!"

He fingered Colin's latest neck-disaster.

"I see you got out last night, Col, and couldn't get in to Alex's 'cos that was a big, big mouth."

"Is it that bad?"

"No it's good, 'cos it shows someone appreciated my darling brother!"

They had to have a hug, of course.

Sea Jay and Jonny appeared in dressing gowns and cravats.

"Shouldn't you have twelve inch cigarette holders?" laughed Colin.

"Plan ahead!" said Sea Jay, taking off his cravat and wrapping it around Colin's embattled neck, "Now, having spoiled our beddy-byes, tell us what it's all about."

Colin gave them Danny's letter to read.

"Let's go!" said Jonathan, "We'll pick up Adam and James and sort things out."

The Lifers dressed and reappeared and the four of them went across to Ravenclaw.

There, they discovered that Adam and James had determined on a second honeymoon and intended to spend all weekend in their bedroom.

They knocked on the door, which opened a crack.

Adam's face appeared.

"Didn't they tell you we were on our second honeymoon?" he said.

Colin handed over the letter.

While Adam read it, Colin could see part of the bed, with covers pulled back on one side. The white, skinny flank of a boy was just visible. It was a very erotic sight; well worth spending sixty hours in bed with.

"Wow!" said Adam, "Mrs Watts, read this."

The door closed.

They sat down in the common room and three of the occupants gravitated to them.

"Hi Luna," said Colin, "All okay this Saturday?"

Luna evaluated the logical AND implicit in the question, but before she could answer, Tintin butted in: "Colin, you've still got the Golden Glow."

"How did you find out about that?"

"Friend of a friend," said Tintin archly, "Why don't you escort me to Slytherin Trials?"

"I hope they find them all guilty," said Dennis.

"That would be amusing, Dennis, if you hadn't said exactly the same thing exactly twelve months ago, and I said who is that good-looking boy and naughty Edwin said wait until you see his brother, so it all comes back to you, Colin—wait there! I'll go and get my hat. Chrissie will entertain you.

Jonny shook hands: "Christopher Bloom, isn't it, I'm Jonathan Neil. Pleased to meet you.

The others introduced themselves and Tintin reappeared with a two-foot diameter picture hat.

"There Colin; wouldn't you be proud to squire a lady dressed so?"

"Blood hell, Tintin, it's not Royal Ascot," said Sea Jay.

"You don't think it would be wise to save that beauty for the real game," said Colin.

"I considered that, but first impressions, are important. Of course if you are my companion, I'll let you totally dictate to me."

"I'll escort you, Tinny," said Dennis, "And we'll both go in the nude."

"I'm sure naughty Mandy would love that. Anyway, you may laugh, Master Dennis, but there are some very senior Gryffindor boys who have a great appreciation of my body."

"It's a beautiful body, dear" said Christopher.

"Thank you, dear," said Tintin.

Adam and James appeared.

"Looking good, ladies!" said Adam, then to the others: "Let's go.

"One thing, Tintin," said Colin, "What time are the trials?"

"Eleven. Perhaps we could just meet by chance?" said Tintin.

"Yeah, that's best," said Colin.

They went outside to the wall.

"Sorry to be unromantic, James," said Sea Jay.

"I'm still with Him, and that's romantic," said James.

"Thank you, Mrs Watts," said Adam, "Anyway, it's Married Quarters Commandos into action."

"And bless Fate that sent us the Slytherin Trials," said Colin.

"What's that got to do with it?" asked Adam.

Jonny laughed: "Your brain's suffering protein deficiency, Ad. Madam Pomfret will be in attendance."

"Oh, yeah! So there'll just be an Assistant Healer at the hospital wing."

"Right, let's plan it out. Lay on, Jonny!"

X

At quarter past eleven, Colin Creevey, accompanied by his concerned brother Dennis, entered the hospital wing with Christopher Harris and Jonathan Neil walking behind to give moral support.

Adam and James were lurking outside—the B Squad, held in reserve.

The A Squad marched into the building, knocked on the windowed door and entered.

It was Mrs Civil on duty. She was a brisk, fortyish woman, unfortunately very efficient, but fortunately, very focused on whoever was her current patient.

"Blimey!" she said, "Has there been a great natural disaster? How many patients are there?"

"Just me, Miss," said Colin.

"You three, wait outside," said Mrs Civil.

"Can I stay please, Miss? I'm his brother," said Dennis.

"Alright, Dennis. Keep quiet. Now, Colin, you're not as stiff as when I last saw you."

She was referring to Colin's encounter with the Basilisk, but this did not stop the brothers tittering.

"Yes, I know," said Mrs Civil, "Now what's the problem?"

"I fainted, Miss."

"Any twitching, Dennis?"

"No, Miss."

"Skin colour change?"

"No, Miss."

"Voices?"

"No, Miss."

"Abnormal growths?"

"No, Miss."

"Motion in surrounding objects?"

"No, Miss."

She looked at Colin's eyes and ears.

"Mmm, doesn't seem to be a jinx. Come and lie down on a bed, and I'll look at your reflexes."

She led Colin to the nearest bed.

Dennis darted to the far side, so that it seemed natural for Mrs Civil to have her back to the door.

"Cloak off, Colin," commanded the Assistant Healer.

"Shall I draw the curtains, Miss?" asked Dennis.

"No thank you, Dennis. He won't have to disrobe fully."

Mrs Civil started feeling, prodding and tapping Colin.

Dennis said: "What's that," and looked round.

"What's what?"

"I thought I heard something scurrying across the floor, Miss."

Mrs Civil looked in the same direction as Dennis.

"I can't see anything," she said.

"That corner, Miss; listen."

They listened for a time.

Colin saw, out the corner of his eye, that the door of the Potions-Cupboard had opened.

It remained open for a nail-biting number of seconds before closing.

That meant that the Commandos had found the flagon of Beddybyebyes Potion.

"I think you imagined it Dennis," he said, giving the all-clear to his brother.

"Yes, Sorry Miss."

Mrs Civil continued her prodding.

The Commandos needed time to pour a pint of Potion into an empty bottle and replenish the Potion flagon from the bottle of water.

Dennis allowed them twenty seconds, before saying: "I definitely heard something!"

"I saw something move," said Colin, and three pairs of eyes focused on the far end of the ward.

They peered for a few seconds before Jonathan called to them: "It's a bluebottle, idiots."

Mission accomplished!

Mrs Civil took the Creeveys back to the office.

"Nothing to worry about, Colin," she said, "Just a touch of Casual Adventitious Non-recurrent Unmagical Syncope. I'm not even recommending that you see Matron. Just eat in moderation, chew your food slowly, take plenty of fluid, get a good night's sleep, don't bash the basilisk more than four times a day, and if your work gives you problems apply to your Head of House for counselling."

She rose and picked up a small glass.

"I'll give you a mild Calming Potion—get out of the way you two—you're the idiots, not the Creeveys; obstructing my Potions Cupboard."

She poured a measure of a striped potion and gave it to Colin.

Not having the usual convenient pot plant, Colin had to drink the stuff.

"Phase One complete!" said Jonathan, as they went back to Gryffindor, where they stowed the hard-won bottle of Potion in Married Quarters.

X

After lunch, they had a go with a Latin dictionary and translated the Depello Praesidium Totum! Charm.

"It doesn't make sense," said Jonathan, "Why would anyone want to protect a statue, let alone get up in the middle of the night to secretly remove the Protection?"

No-one could answer this, so an owl was sent to Danny Jorrocks.

Phase Two of Operation Beddybyebyes had to wait until Sunday, so Colin went to collect Alexander and go for a walk in the grounds.

"You were all smiling," said Alexander, "Does that mean you can come to the dorm tonight and read us a story and cuddle me all night?"

" 'Fraid not, Alex, but it does mean that, in a few nights, we might be able to spend the night together somewhere else."

"Not in the common room; there might be girls there."

Both boys giggled at the absurd irrelevancy of girls being connected in any way with the pure love of boy for boy.

"Let's go to the wood," said Alexander.

The previous year, thanks largely to Danny Jorrocks, gay friendships had increased enormously at Hogwarts, and many couples had found the ideal area for getting together in private: on the far side of the Lake, rising ground comprised a mixture of grass, scrub, rocks, shrubs and a few trees.

There were many, many places where a pair (or more) of boys could lie down and behave as they wanted without being observed.

However, there had been overnight rain, and even with the help of magic rugs and blankets, making love could become a damp business. And now clouds were rolling up from the south-west.

But if you went to the deep far left of the area, just before you came to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, there was a little wood, where Colin and Alexander hoped to find shelter.

They walked slowly, chatting about the Stratford boys and the Birmingham boy (Geoffrey); the lessons they had had that week; the characters and appearance of the new first-years.

After some time they were far enough away from other eyes to hold hands; they found great pleasure and comfort in this simple act.

The wood was about a mile and a half from the castle, but the time passed in a flash, and suddenly they were among the trees.

The two boys stopped for a couple of minutes' snogging, before moving forwards. They had only been to the wood once before and now they wanted to explore and discover the best spots.

Rain was beginning to patter.

They were some way into the wood when they heard another sound: an unpleasant, loud hiss,

They clung together in fear.

It had sounded like an aggressive snake, but Colin re-interpreted it as a boy calling Ssh! for quietness.

They crept forward.

Then Colin stopped and nudged Alexander.

He pointed to a silver birch tree.

There was a human hand on each side of the trunk.

Someone was hugging the tree.

For a moment, Colin believed that there must be a hole in the tree and a boy was shagging it.

Then came a whisper: It's nothing. Go on.

"Hello?" said Colin.

There were two yelps of alarm, and two boys appeared, one each side of the tree.

Their cloaks had been lifted: they were still falling when the boys appeared.

Colin recognised them: they were two Slytherins, Winter and Baddock.

It was Baddock who spoke first: "No-one'll believe you! You'll get detention for libellous slander!"

"Oh shut up, Baddock!" said Colin, "We're not like Slytherins; we don't sneak on people. What do you think we're here for, anyway?"

"I didn't think you'd sneak on us, Creevey," said Winter, "And nor did Malcolm really. He just got a shock. And, for your information, not all Slytherins are the same."

"I know," said Colin, "I suppose I'd had a shock, too. We'll get on our way, and find our own spot. Enjoy your love-making, and it's a total secret. See yer."

Colin and Alexander walked deeper into the wood.

At last, they found a delightful little spot: a glade which had allowed some bushes and young trees to grow, giving all-round cover."

They stopped and snogged long and passionately.

"Do you want to shag me?" whispered Alexander.

"No, darling. It's got to be done slowly and carefully lying down; besides, I think it's still growing."

"Let me play with it, then."

Colin dropped his underpants and lifted his cloak. His willy was looking the way it felt to Colin: desperate for relief.

Alexander crouched and gazed lovingly at Colin's manhood.

"I think it has grown," he said, then: "What are those stains?"

"What do think?"

"I think your willy's been soaked in shitty cum. And I'm not sucking it unless it's someone nice."

The boys giggled.

"It's Andrew Merryweather," whispered Colin.

"That's the Head Boy, isn't it?" laughed Alexander, "I could be expelled if I didn't suck your willy."

He gripped the shaft of the penis gently and pressed his tongue against the knob.

Colin twitched forwards. His body said Now! Now! Now! but he knew that a little teasing made it better in the end.

Slowly, Alexander gave tiny touches to each part of the knob's surface . . . then it became tiny licks . . . then big licks.

When Colin did this to Dennis, he usually went straight into orgasm.

Colin was a lot less excitable, but this was his Alexander; and after such a long wait for the touch of his beloved's lips, Colin wasn't far away.

Alexander took Colin's knob into his mouth. It was a big knob and a small mouth. Alexander might not even get as far as the shitty cum.

But the boy wasn't thinking that far ahead.

He sucked gently and moved his tongue over the surface.

When he touched the underside, Colin gave another twitch.

Alexander had a serious mouthful now.

He gave himself temporary relief by moving his head backwards, but immediately undid things by jolting his head forwards hard.

Colin's willy must be somewhere near the back of the boy's throat.

Then Alexander was backing off again . . . and forwards, setting up the regular rhythm of the true boy-to-boy blow-job.

At the same time, Alexander had strengthened his grip on Colin's shaft and was giving it a half-pace wank.

When Alexander applied his spare hand to fondle Colin's balls, it was too much, and Colin shot full tilt against his lover's throat.

The joy of pouring his milk down Alexander's throat was enough to threaten a real Casual Faint.

As ever, Alexander was brilliant at swallowing and not gagging. While he gave Colin a last suck, with a last squeeze of the balls, Colin marvelled at how different it felt coming in a friend's mouth and coming in his bum—not better or worse, but different, as Danny was wont to say about many aspects of gay life.

Alexander got up and said: "Your willy's got a tiny new muscle so it must be a bit bigger; but what's really grown is your bollocks."

Colin gave the boy a hug—he didn't kiss him as he hated ingesting his own cum.

"Thanks darling," he said, "It's really pissing down. I'll have to—Who is it? Come out!"

A squall of wind had blown a whiff of tobacco their way.

Winter and Baddock, laughing loudly, came out of a nearby bush. They were smoking Muggle cigarettes.

"We won't tell," said Baddock, "I do that as well don't I Chris."

Christopher Winter nodded and smiled shyly.

He was one of the quietest boys in Slytherin.

His skin was slightly yellowy, but not as much as that of the Muggle boy, Robert Webb.

He took out his packet and offered them a fag.

"No thanks, Winter," said Colin, "Were you watching us?"

"You were good," said Baddock to Alexander, "I couldn't have taken that much in; Creevey's got a much bigger cock than Chris. That's two grown-up cocks with the horn I've seen now."

"Same here," said Winter.

"It can't be easy being gay in Slytherin," said Colin.

"It's okay as long as no one knows," said Baddock

"How do you manage, then?"

"Piece of piss. I share a room with Pritchard. He's always off at Quidditch practice; and then Chris comes in and bums me senseless. We've been doing it since my third week, haven't we Chris?"

Winter nodded and smiled again.

"How on earth did you get together?" asked Colin.

"I simply asked Chris straight out. He came in to our room to return a Quidditch book to Pritchard; and Pritchard was down the field; and I was lying on the bed, reading in just my pants and I saw him looking at my bum; and I'd heard about bumming so I asked him and it was absolutely amazing. I didn't know it was gay and bad then, but Chris told me so we kept it secret.

"Just think: we've been doing it for two years. I've had Chris's cock coming out of my arse more often than I've had a turd coming out of it. And then last year he started to shoot, and it was unbelievable feeling it trickling down my legs. Do you like that—what's your name?"

"Bell."

"Like me 'cos Chris gives me the old ding-dong. Do you like girls at all?"

"No!" said Colin and Alexander, simultaneously.

"Nor do we. Can't see the point. Bell . . . do you ever . . ." he dropped his voice to a whisper, ". . . smell Creevey's arsehole?"

"Yes," said Alexander.

"And do you ever lick it?"

"Yes."

Baddock laughed noisily.

"Mad isn't it? Eleven years I was taught never even to talk about arseholes, and really they're the best things in the world—as well as cocks, of course.

"And balls," said Winter.

"Yeah. And balls. My balls are nearly as big as Chris's, but I can't shoot yet. I bought Chris a locket like mine so he can carry round my cum when I can make it. You can't go everywhere with a picture of your boyfriend round your neck. Look: I wanked this out of Chris."

Baddock drew out a golden locket on a chain and opened it up. Behind the glass was a good serving of fluid.

"What a brilliant idea," said Colin.

"Don't tell anyone."

"No. But why don't you tell everyone yourself? Times have changed. Slytherin had a Gay Champion last year; and two in the first-year group; and what about the way Harper carries on? There's no need to be all secretive any more."

"It's still not the thing. Anyway, Harper's a half-blood, and he's only allowed to get away with it because he's always shooting his mouth off about Muggles' Lefts."

"What's that?"

"The opposite of Muggles' Rights! We have to shoot our mouths off too, but not as much as Harper. There's a gap in the rain. Let's go back, Chris. Everyone thinks we go after vermin. That's Chris's party piece. His folks are farmers. You see a rat and call out inch and a quarter, and Chris'll get out his wand and nip that much off his tail. See yer Creevey; see yer Bell."

The two Slytherins hurried off.

When they were nearly out of vision, Baddock stopped and called back: "Creevey, I nearly forgot: Filthy Mudblood!"

The sound of his cheerful laughter faded through the wood.

"Bloody hell!" said Colin, "I feel like starting a Gay Supremacy group. Can you imagine any heterosexual having the life and vision of Baddock or Danny?"

"I only paid attention when he was talking about sniffing and licking arses."

Colin dropped his drawers again.

—CHAPTER SIX— Lachlan Goes Bum-watching

Lachlan didn't wake until ten o'clock on the Saturday morning.

He felt grubby, and had a quick shower.

The shower cubicles on the Private Side of Slytherin were spacious, and the boys walked to and from their shower in their dressing-gowns.

Lachlan regretted this: he would have liked to have properly seen dickies with hair round them.

He went up to the Great Hall. It was too late for breakfast, but an Express Owl was waiting for him. It was from his mother, and had a letter and books.

He read the letter while on the way to dumping all his books, bar one, in his room.

He went down to the kitchen, had a chat with Dobby, and picked up a roll and some juice.

It was a lovely day, so he took his breakfast outside, where, seeing his fellow first-years lounging about, went to join them.

"You've missed breakfast," said Clark, not sounding at all upset.

Then he saw what Lachlan was eating: "Oh. Where'd you get that?"

"Kitchen," said Lachlan.

"Ye're an awfy man, Tibby" said Mac, "How did you get oot yer room in the middle o' the night?"

"You'll have to work it out for yourself, Mac."

"We've been trying," said Houlihan, "We've talked about nothing else all morning."

"I think you should tell us, Tibbs," said Clark, "It's breaking School Rules, and there might be danger."

"Yeah," agreed Abu-Arefeh, "And we might have to warn Professor Snape, for your own safety."

"You tell Snape," laughed Lachlan, "And I'll just deny it. And I'll deny battering you all over. And he won't have proof of either."

Abu backtracked: "No . . . no! None of us would really tell Professor Snape."

"Mawn," said Mac, "They're gaein' doon to the field."

They went to the Quidditch field to see the trials.

There were plenty of Slytherins trying for a place, and plenty more watching.

There were also people from the other houses, divided into two groups: boys who had come to look at the Quidditch; and girls who had come to look at the Quidditch players.

In the latter group, Lachlan included Bloom and Wilkes, those two, strange Ravenclaws of mixed gender.

Each of them was wearing cloaks decorated with facings and fancy lace. Wilkes had a giant hat with even fancier decorations. Lachlan wondered if Wilkes had a slit or a dicky.

Lachlan knew the rules of Quidditch now, and had learnt enough to know that the team more or less picked itself.

Most of the aspirants were bad, but Lachlan gave credit to the captain, Robert Urquhart, for making sure that he didn't overlook any potential talent.

He took out one of Nanny's Mills and Boons, and read it in about twenty minutes.

It seemed straightforward: a woman with problems fancied a man with problems; he began to fancy her; they overcame the problems, plus some new problems and lived happily ever after.

How could those Muggles employ a children's nurse who read this for fun, despite being such an intelligent woman?

It was worse than the novels he had previously read: it assumed that love was, not only the most important thing in the world, but also the only thing in the world. Everything else in the book was merely a framework.

The book was no use for explaining why people loved each other.

They were about to start the Keeper Trial, and this looked to be more interesting: the boy who had held the position for four years had left Hogwarts, and there were several competent contenders.

Lachlan hoped that Millicent Bulstrode would win.

He was on nodding terms with her, because their cats were on nodding terms with each other.

Millicent's cat was big and black, but much more of a stay-at-home than Papyrus.

The winning Keeper turned out to be a third-year called Graham Pritchard.

"Hard luck. Only just lost, Bulstrode," Lachlan said to her, when she returned to the stand.

She looked at first as though talking to a first-year was beneath a sixth-year's dignity.

Then she must have recognised Lachlan as not the normal sort of first-year.

"That Urquhart's just an idiot," she said loudly.

There was just the Seeker Trial to go, and that was a formality: Malfoy may have had an imprisoned father, but he was a much better Seeker than Harper, so even if Harper had been the Minister's son, he wouldn't have got the selection.

Lachlan had a last look at the crowd.

He homed in immediately on two pairs of boys having private discussions.

The two seventh-year Chasers, Robert Urquhart and Leigh Vaisey had their heads together and were conversing earnestly.

The fourth-year, Christopher Winter, was also talking earnestly into the ear of the big third-year, Malcolm Baddock.

Conspiratorial was the word.

Last night's conspirators, Darren Ayling and Jonathan Gunning, were among the losing candidates.

"Coming, Tibby?" said Mac, and the five first-years returned to the castle.

X

At lunch, another owl came for Lachlan. It read:

TIBBS I(S)

SSK TUESDAY 7.00 PM

STUDY ROOM 1

DESTROY THIS

Lachlan was amused: if it was that secret, Zabini could have simply whispered the message into his ear.

He looked up the table and found that Zabini was carefully avoiding his gaze.

The conspirators were in social mode at present: Winter and Baddock were sitting separately; and Urquhart and Vaisey were close, but in a large, mixed-gender group.

He decided to keep an eye on each pair, but then saw that it would have to be one pair only.

Which one? . . . Which one?

Of course: Winter and Baddock were SSK's and were probably up to some harmless mumbo-jumbo. Urquhart and Vaisey were the ones to watch: They were older as well.

". . . So, tying in with other year-groups, we could fit in Wizard Croquet and crazy golf. What do think, Tibby?"

Anthony Houlihan had asked him a question.

"Sorry, Houlihan," he said "I was miles away; but if it's to do with games this afternoon, I've got something else on. Tomorrow afternoon, though, I'll try to be on the front lawn ready for fun and games. I'd also point out that, today, it looks like raining all afternoon."

On the way out, he had his espionage choice confirmed when he heard someone say Winter and Baddock are going roughshooting.

Lachlan didn't know what roughshooting was, but if it was a well-known pastime, it wasn't worth spying on.

Come to think of it, someone had mentioned earlier that Winter was a celebrated wandsman.

He went for a belated morning poo before hanging around the front hall watching for Urquhart and Vaisey.

People were swirling round, and quite a few said hello. He didn't feel haughty in the least, but there was a stirring of pleasure in being known; in being part of a community. He had never felt this at Muggle school.

He was particularly pleased to be greeted by the MacKenzies, allowing him to feel something of the mystery and mystique of twinship.

And Merryweather: with what Lachlan would learn was typical Hufflepuff directness, the Head Boy made a point of bawling out: "Hello Tibby!"

"Hello Andrew," shouted Lachlan.

Perfect!

He saw Vaisey go out the front door and stroll across the lawn, heading diagonally rightwards.

The big boy was nearly a quarter of a mile away, before Urquhart passed quietly from the castle and sloped off in the same direction.

Lachlan saw that there was not much cover for a spy.

After a moment's thought, he ran down to Slytherin, collected his bird book, and ran upstairs.

Urquhart was a couple of hundred yards ahead.

Lachlan waited for a while to check whether there was a third member of the conspiracy watching over the other two, then walked after Urquhart.

He jumped over a line of hurdles which, running from the lake to the Hogwarts wall, penned in the Hogwarts flock of sheep.

He couldn't imagine what these two big boys were doing wandering among the sheep.

The far end of the field was blocked off as the boundary wall curved round. There was nowhere for the boys to go, and nothing to do when they got there.

One thing that was obvious was that Lachlan wouldn't be able to hide himself. There was no cover at all; and no metaphorical cover as there wasn't a bird to be seen.

He retraced his steps, jumped over the hurdles and crossed the little wooden bridge that lead over the brook.

He now had the Forbidden Forest to pop into as a hiding place; and he could hear birds calling. He could also see a dipper feeding at the edge of the stream, its white throat and chest bobbing up and down as it justified its name.

He followed the line of the forest, keeping his eye on Urquhart walking through the field with his slinky Chaser's gait.

Lachlan's weather forecasting proved accurate: a few drops of rain were falling. He looked at the sky to windward: there was much more on the way.

He quickened his pace and saw that Urquhart had reached the point where the brook entered the Hogwarts grounds.

An arched stone culvert had been built to allow the water to flow under it and the Hogwarts wall to continue uninterruptedly over it.

Urquhart stood on the bank and looked all round.

Lachlan ducked into the Forest just in time.

From his cover he watched as Urquhart removed his hat and cloak. Then he took off jeans, shoes and tee-shirt.

Lachlan was bemused: Urquhart couldn't really be going to sunbathe, but that was the only reason Lachlan could think of.

The focus of his curiosity changed when Urquhart took off his socks and underpants and stood completely naked.

Lachlan had never seen a big boy in the nude before, and was fascinated.

Urquhart looked around again, and turned back towards the culvert.

Lachlan caught sight of a dark flash of hair, but was too far away to make out Urquhart's dicky.

Then someone else appeared, wading shin-deep out of the culvert. He was naked too, and Lachlan noticed a second heap of clothes on the bank.

Vaisey was carrying a stone about nine inches across. He emerged from the stream and dumped the stone high up on the bank.

Meanwhile, Urquhart had entered the culvert.

It soon became clear that the big boys' purpose was to remove stones from the bed of the brook.

Lachlan decided that this must be a routine Hogwarts maintenance task. There was probably a rota. When he was a big boy he'd have to find a way of keeping off this rota—and all other rotas if they were for tasks as mindless as this.

Each boy emerged from the culvert crouching. When they straightened, Lachlan could see their hair. Then, when they went back in, they showed their bottoms.

Lachlan was eager to see more.

Picking his moments, he broke cover and ran along the edge of the Forest to find new cover.

At last, he was as near as it was feasible to be.

At a range of forty yards, he found the boys' bodies attractive.

They weren't boys really, but men.

Lachlan had never thought of men's bodies as attractive before: boys and girls had nice bodies, but he'd never even thought of grown-ups' bodies as eye-catching in the least.

This was a revelation, and Lachlan regretted even more the privacy of the Slytherin showering arrangements.

He wondered if he'd ever find women's bodies attractive, and decided not: all these curves and bumpy bits. And not even a dicky to look at.

Urquhart and Vaisey had smaller dickies than he'd expected, but it was agreeable to watch them swinging to and fro as their owners carried the stones about.

The rain was really pouring down now, and even under his partial shelter, Lachlan was slowly getting soaked.

The wetness didn't bother him at all: he was enjoying himself immensely: this was better than bird-watching.

In fact, the best bit was bum-watching.

Urquhart and Vaisey had bums that gave an impression of being big and friendly, but at the same time small and businesslike, like a clenched fist.

This was what real men's bums must be like.

The two bums were quite similar, but different enough for Lachlan to know that he would be able to recognise each of them again.

He realised that his dicky had been hard for quite some time. It was like that: it often went hard, even though it knew that it wasn't about to be rubbed.

It was a shame that the seventh-years' dickies didn't go hard. He would have liked to have seen that, but, what with the work they were doing and the pouring rain, Urquhart and Vaisey didn't have time to think of hard dickies.

In their naked state, they weren't bothered at all about the rain, but their clothes—then Lachlan noticed that their clothes were dry. They must be using magic. Lachlan knew by now that reading all the textbooks wasn't enough: it would probably be years before he was possessed of the wandsmanship needed to actually perform the charm for keeping your clothes dry.

Another good look at Urquhart's bottom drew the memories of his explorations with Draco all those years ago.

He wondered if Draco's bottom was still as smooth.

Come to that, were Urquhart's and Vaisey's bottoms smooth?

He remembered opening up Draco's crack to expose his bumhole.

Draco's bumhole had been tight, but Lachlan expected that big boys' bumholes were big and not in the least tight.

Still, he would like to investigate one seventh-year bottom so that he knew the answers to these questions. Perhaps he would one day.

Urquhart and Vaisey worked steadily until Urquhart stopped to pee into the brook. Vaisey joined him, then said something.

Urquhart said something back, the two of them laughed and Vaisey waded across the brook, heading straight for Lachlan.

Lachlan's heart gave a jump.

He wasn't scared or ashamed—he had his bird-book for cover, after all—but he was thinking of the future: Urquhart and Vaisey, and the other boys on the rota, might come here often; their visits would be Lachlan's only chances of seeing big boys in the nude. If he was caught once, they would be watching out for him next time.

He tried to retreat into the Forest, but the undergrowth was thick around here and he had to scrabble about quite a bit before finding some herbage that could conceal him.

It was beside a little glade where a tree had been cut down—presumably for its wand-making properties.

Lachlan had made quite a noise and lay very still. With a bit of luck, Vaisey would think that an animal had run deeper into the Forest.

But Vaisey must be suspicious: he was padding about.

Then Vaisey came nearer.

It seemed that he must catch Lachlan, but he stopped short.

Lachlan risked a peep through the leaves.

Vaisey had stopped in the little glade. He was standing looking at the ground. He had a bunch of dock leaves in his hand.

Dock leaves?

Lachlan hadn't seen any stinging nettles about.

Then Vaisey squatted.

Lachlan realised, with delight, that he was going to have a poo.

He shifted slightly to improve his view.

He couldn't see the hole, but he saw a fat, brown head make its way downwards. Then, suddenly, a thinner softer snake followed, and the turd broke off and coiled up on the ground.

There was little wind at the forest floor, and the pong hit Lachlan almost immediately. Men's poo smelt much stronger than boys'.

A baby turd followed the big one, then a few squirts of pee.

Vaisey wiped himself and, all too quickly, the show was over.

Lachlan remembered that the Father had told them at the Convent that God rewarded Good Children by giving them what they want.

Lachlan must have been very good.

When Vaisey had left, Lachlan went to inspect the turd.

It was big and fat, but not nearly as fat as the one they had found near the Muggle school.

That one must have been two and a half inches across.

It was probably from Jobber Joyner, and he must have been brewing it for weeks and weeks.

Lachlan broke off a Y-shaped twig and moved Vaisey's effort into a clump of brambles where no-one could tread in it. He put the dock leaves there too, then crept back to resume his bum-watching.

After a quarter of an hour of fun, there came a lull in the rain, and Lachlan, reversing his piecemeal approach to the vantage point, made his way back to the school.

He nodded to his fellow Slytherins, Baddock and Winter who had approached the front door from the opposite direction.

"Do any good?" he asked them.

"We tailed a few rats and got a couple of adders," said Baddock.

Roughshooting must mean killing animals with your wand.

Funny how hobbies brought people together: Baddock and Winter were unlikely companions and had nothing else in common.

At dinner, the other boys asked Lachlan where he had been.

He told them about the dipper, and how it hadn't flown underwater for him.

"Sounds good fun, Tibby," said Mac, "Can I come next time?"

"Yes, of course" said Lachlan, his heart sinking a little.

—CHAPTER SEVEN— The Commandos Again

Saturday night was the time for fun and games at Hogwarts, and this first Saturday of the term was especially wild.

By half past eight, things were beginning to slow down.

Boys and girls had been running in and out of the houses; in and out of the front door; along the corridors.

People were beginning to feel the urge to return quietly to the quieter common rooms.

David Ward and his three friends had already returned to Gryffindor, not for the quiet common room games, but to go to their dorm and have a couple of hours of fun before sleeping together in a happy, semen-encrusted huddle.

A last-gasp game of Wizard Tag was set up, in the course of which Colin saw Tibby.

"Hey, Tibby!" he called, "Come and meet my brother."

Secrecy seemed to have been abandoned for the night.

Tibby came over and shook Dennis's hand.

"Colin tried to see you last night," he said, "But he had to put up with me. Did he tell you?"

"Yes," said Dennis, "He said it was brilliant that a first-year got out of his room; but you couldn't get Colin into anyone else's."

"Ah, well," said Tibby, "I've had a thought about that, Colin. Next time you want to visit Dennis in the night, let me know. It might be possible, and if you're prepared to risk an Alarm, I'll try and set it up for you."

"How about tonight?" said Colin.

"Right; midnight do you?"

"Yes please."

"Well, sit up and expect something. Have a little light on so you don't get too much of a surprise."

"Thanks, Tibby."

"Thank me if it works."

"Thank you for trying; that's the important bit."

Tibby considered for a moment; then said: "I suppose it is. I hadn't thought of that before. First-years to bed in ten minutes. Goodnight Colin; goodnight Dennis."

They said their goodnights.

"He's going the wrong direction for Slytherin," said Dennis.

"He's okay, Den."

"He seems a bit weird."

"He's grown up with Muggles. He's just got to learn wizard ways. I was probably weird in my first week."

"Anyway, Col, if he gets you to Alex."

"No you're not a fiction anymore, Den. While this curfew nonsense is on, one hundred percent of my dormitory-breaking is for you."

"Same here, but it's a shame Alex has to suffer."

"We had a good time today."

"Oh yeah; tell!"

"Well we caught these two Slytherins; you'll never guess who . . ."

The brothers giggled their way back to Gryffindor, where they sat with the second-years for the twenty minutes until it was their bedtime.

"Can I ask you something, Colin?" said James Carter.

"Yes, that was it," said Colin, quoting a famous line from Danny Jorrocks.

"Will you promise us something, Colin?"

"I'll promise that if you ask me to promise something, I'll promise that if you ask me to promise something, I'll promise—"

James jumped on top of Colin and tried to pull him off the sofa.

Alex and Dennis dived in, then Peter Jones, Paul Smith and Euan Abercrombie.

There were seven boys rolling about the floor.

The little girls screamed with laughter.

They and pretty Paul Smith were ignorant of—or turned a blind eye to—the sexual overtones of the situation.

Colin knew that male feelings were rising, as were several penises.

They sorted themselves out.

"After that James," said Colin, "I'll promise you anything."

James sat next to Colin on the sofa, squeezing out Dennis, who went to share Euan's chair.

"Promise that the very first night the curfew finishes, you'll come and read us a ghost story."

"With Dennis," squeaked Euan Abercrombie.

Poor Euan. He must have been so looking forward to having a second night sleeping with Dennis, but the curfew had ruined everything.

"I promise," said Colin.

"I promise," said Dennis.

The second-years were sent to bed and the Creeveys went to sit with the third-years.

Chris Gillies pulled Colin down to the floor.

"Get off, Gils" laughed Colin.

"Sorry, Colin," said Chris, "I thought that was tonight's way of saying hello in Gryffindor."

There were lots of male hormones here too, but the situation was much more complicated.

Suddenly Colin felt tired. He had been up for much of the previous night.

"Sorry, chaps," he said, "I'm tired and I'm ready for bed."

"Stay and have a chat, mate," said Jimmy Peakes, "We've hardly seen you all week."

No, I'm really tired. Goodnight all."

"See you in the morning, Col," said Dennis, laughing uproariously at the knowledge that the morning began at midnight.

"See you in the morning, Den."

Colin went to bed and read himself to sleep, though not before setting his Wizard Alarm.

X

At midnight, he was sitting in his dressing gown on the edge of the bed, his wand on a prudential Lumos! wondering what was coming.

A CRACK! came and a strange little house-elf was standing before him.

The elf bowed, and croaked: "Master Colin: I am Dobby the free house-elf who is supporting Harry Potter by Master Tibby wanting to take Master Colin to Master Dennis."

Colin was impressed: this elf seemed to have his priorities right.

Colin was elf-aware and a member of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. He had heard of Dobby, and approved of him as a fellow Harry-worshipper.

He bowed and said: "Colin remembers Dobby who so kindly helped us on Valentine's Day and would be honoured if the famous free Dobby, friend and supporter of Harry Potter, took him to his brother."

Dobby wrapped his fingers around Colin's arm and, with another CRACK!, they were in the third-year dorm.

"There is no Alarm," said Dobby, "I was to take Master Colin back if there was Alarm. Does Master Colin want anything? A bacon sandwich?"

"Yes," said Colin, "Master Colin wants Master Dobby, the free elf, to go and have a long sleep with lovely dreams."

Dobby smiled, and with a third CRACK!, vanished.

Colin was out of his dressing gown and inside Dennis's curtains in no time.

He pulled down the bedclothes.

Dennis was expecting him, and hadn't bothered with pyjamas.

He was sound asleep, curled up on his right side, his lips parted as though he were kissing Colin in his dreams.

Colin, enchanted by Dennis's jutting-out bottom, stroked it, squeezed it and kissed it. Then his face buried itself between the silky bumcheeks.

He chuckled to himself as he thought of Baddock's Do you ever smell Creevey's arsehole? . . . And do you ever lick it?

"Yes I do." he thought, and proceeded to press his nose hard into his brother's bumhole.

The smell was pure Dennis.

He felt deliriously happy that he had been given a brother to love so deeply.

He moved his tongue to where his nose had been, and Dennis stirred and woke.

"At last! At last!" he whispered, "Come here my lovely, lovely brother!"

Colin shifted up, and the boys kissed, sucking hard, with their tongues as deeply inside as possible; holding each other tight, and squeezing each other's trembling buttocks.

Dennis's finger found its way to Colin's hole, and Colin felt the desperate need to be bummed.

He rolled onto his back, whispering: "Dennis, darling sweetheart, stick it hard up me!"

In no time, Dennis too was smelling a Creevey arsehole and licking it.

Then Colin felt something hard, and with a sharp pain, Dennis was at it, banging up and down as though Colin's bum was a bouncy castle.

Dennis needed it badly: he came almost at once, had a quick (in both senses) second shag, sucked Colin off, and fell asleep still sucking Colin's penis.

X

Colin woke to the sound of five boys cheerfully shouting at each other as they padded into and out of the bathroom.

As his consciousness increased, he realised that it was Sunday morning, the first Sunday of the new term. As on all Sundays, there was a struggle within each student's body between the knowledge that a lie-in was possible and the knowledge that an excellent Sunday breakfast was awaiting their attention; and as on all Sundays, the call of food won for most of them.

Colin thought of the fat little sausages available in the Great Hall, and was aware that he already had a fat little sausage inside his mouth.

He was with Dennis!

That odd boy Tibby had fixed it up and he and Dennis had had a lot of sexual intercourse through the night—some of it in dreams, and some of it in sticky, sweaty reality.

And now they were locked in a sixty-nine: each sucking the other's willy; each with one arm between the other's thighs and the other holding a finger inside the other's bumhole.

They hadn't slept like that for ages.

The thought of their position was erotic, the reality even more so, and Colin's willy became very stiff.

The huge swelling in Dennis's mouth drew him towards wakefulness. He mumbled It's Colin! and his own willy pulsed to tumescence.

Suddenly there was a burst of bright light. Someone had opened the curtains around Dennis's bed.

Colin shut his eyes against the brightness, and heard Jimmy Peakes' voice shouting: "Wake up lazybones—oh . . . Don't look, Raj; you won't like it."

Then: "Oh!" from Raj Mallya.

Colin and Dennis were lying on top of the bedclothes, so every intimate detail was exposed.

"What is it?" came in Simon Hibbard's voice.

There were more footsteps and more gasps of surprise.

Colin opened his eyes and withdrew himself from Dennis's penis.

Five pairs of eyes were looking at the Creeveys in stunned silence.

"Morning chaps!" said Colin cheerfully, "Good view today, isn't it?"

Dennis was awake and raised his head to greet the watchers.

"Morning!"

The silence became even more stunned as five pairs of eyes stared at Colin's member, now revealed in all its morning glory.

Eventually Chris Gillies found voice: "Wow! Colin!"

"You've been closer than that to it!" laughed Colin.

"That was three months ago. It's grown."

"Must be the Russian air!"

Jimmy Peakes found his voice: "How did you g-get—"

"Get that gorgeous thingie?" interrupted Dennis, rising and tweaking the thingie in question, "By fratrication, masturbation, co-fellation and fornication. Come on Col, breakfast!"

Dennis went into the bogs, and Colin rose to follow him, his huge erection looking even more impressive as it towered out at forty-five degrees.

"No, Colin," said Jimmy Peakes, blushing slightly, "How did you get in here?"

"Magic," laughed Colin, putting on his dressing gown.

Dennis reappeared, and started dressing.

The other boys completed their toilet and the seven of them walked downstairs, dropping off the Creeveys to allow Colin to dress, though Dennis had to wait at the door because of the Shield.

Ray Kelly and Stewart Appiah had already gone.

Colin dressed quickly and they went down to the Great Hall, having received In a Minute in response to a knock on the door of Married Quarters.

They abandoned their sleeping companions of the night before and sat with the second-years.

"I found my way to Dennis last night," Colin told Alexander.

Alexander counted Colin's love-bites: "One . . . Two . . . Don't believe you!"

"Did you really?" asked Euan; then wistfully: "Was it nice, Dennis?"

"How did you do it, Colin," asked pretty Paul Smith.

"Better keep it secret," said Colin, "But it was thanks to that Lachlan Tibbs, in Slytherin."

"He's a sexpot," said Peter Jones, dropping his voice as curious and fascinated female ears were currently straining, "Caerwen says he can stand in for Adam any time he wants."

There had been some whispering and tittering along the table.

"Colin, do you keep falling on your face?" shouted Jimmy Peakes.

"Colin, why do you walk into class five seconds after the Professor has marked you present?" shouted Chris Gillies.

"What are they on about," asked Alexander?"

"They saw my stiffie this morning," whispered Colin.

"Can we see it tonight, Colin," whispered James Carter.

"No; lessons tomorrow. Let's wait until Friday."

"What about you, Dennis?" asked Euan, "You haven't got O.W.L.'s; and you've only got Arithmancy, Divination and Games tomorrow."

"No," said Dennis, "I'm sticking with Colin."

"Sticking to Colin, more like," said James, and there was general tittering, though one little girl asked What's so funny?

Sea Jay and Jonathan came in, barged some girls out the way, and sat down with the Creeveys.

"Any sign of a divorce?" asked Dennis.

"I dreamt I won the Ministry Lottery, bumped off You-Know-Who and scored the winning Snitch in the World Cup," said Sea Jay, "Then I woke up and life was much, much, much, much better."

"I wish your life was as good as mine," said Jonny, giving his partner's hand a little squeeze.

Sea Jay's eyes were growing misty, so Colin quickly changed the subject.

"Done that Transfig essay yet?" he asked.

"No," said Jonathan, "We'll do it during Divination."

There was a stirring among the third-year girls: they were mesmerised by the Centaur Firenze's sixteen-inch penis, and the very word Divination, caused them to get whatever feelings girls get.

"Why not do it later today?" asked Colin.

"It's the weekend!" said Jonny.

"Will you remember skiving today when the O.W.L.'s come?"

"Oh, let's not plan that far ahead!"

"You planned even farther ahead when you got married."

"So up yours, Neil-Harris!" said Dennis, "You should have done it Friday night like Colin."

"Suppose one of us failed O.W.L.'s" said Sea Jay, "That would be dreadful. Let's do it after lunch . . . after you-know."

"Yes, Dear," said Jonathan.

X

Professor Slughorn had let it be known that he had been invited to Sunday lunch by the head of an Old and Influential wizard family.

That meant that his office would be available for a Commando raid.

The six Commandos met behind the boathouse.

They decided that Adam should do the break-in as, having been asked to re-submit some work by Professor Slughorn, he had an excuse for being there if, by sad chance, he were caught.

The long corridor that ran at right angles to the Potions Corridor would be patrolled by Sea Jay at one end and James at the other. They would cover their presence by passing a Massless Ball between them.

Colin would be stationed down the blind corridor that lead off half way along the Potions Corridor, and Dennis at the L-shape at the far end.

Jonathan was the B Squad, hanging about well clear and ready to make a solo assault if any of the A Squad were captured.

At twelve o'clock, they took their stations and Adam knocked loudly at Professor Slughorn's door.

"Professor Slughorn! Professor Slughorn!"

But before he could do anything more, they heard James call Spiffing catch, Harris!, which was the warning signal.

Immediately Adam retreated to Colin's niche.

Then they heard the surprising sound of scampering feet.

James joined them.

"You're off-post, Darling," said Adam.

"Ssh!" was the only reply.

Then they heard more footsteps. They seemed familiar, and the reason became apparent when there was a double rap on the door.

"Horace!" said Snape.

He rapped again and called: "Horace, I need some Madame Glossy's Silver Polish!"

When there was no reply, they heard the tap of a wand and Snape's call: "Ten Points to Gryffindor!"

There was no effect.

Snape tried again with the same non-effect.

"Damn!" he said and walked away.

They were just breathing a sigh of relief when the footsteps returned.

Again they heard the tap of Snape's wand, but this time Snape tried: "Ten Points to Slytherin!"

"Damn!" said Snape again, but then: "Creevey! Wretched boy, come here!"

For a moment Colin thought that Snape must be onto him; then he guessed that, out of understandable curiosity, Dennis had stuck his head round the corner and been spotted by Snape.

"What are you doing lurking down here, Creevey?"

"Oh Sir!" said Dennis, "I wasn't lurking; I was looking for Peeves."

"To induce him into some stupid trick, I suppose. You really are an incorrigible idiot."

"No tricks, Sir; I'm writing a poem."

"A poem! You excel yourself in your estimation of my gullibility, Creevey. Just supposing you were capable of producing a competent poem, what conceivable use could Peeves be?"

"It's to my girlfriend, Sir."

"So?"

"It's called Autumn Leaves, Sir."

"So?"

"Well, I want some rhymes for Leaves, Sir; and as Peeves rhymes, I thought he might know some."

"You really are an idiot Creevey. Go away and stop wasting your time and mine."

"Yes Sir."

They heard Dennis scampering up the corridor and Snape following slowly in the direction from which he had come.

"He'll be back," whispered Adam, and indeed, the suspicious Snape's footsteps reappeared after a couple of minutes, before fading out again.

After another pause, they heard a welcome Come and play, James from Sea Jay.

It was an all clear, and Adam was at Professor Slughorn's door in seconds.

Colin heard Ten Points to Horace! and the handle of the door turning.

Five minutes later, Gryffindor Married Quarters held twenty-nine Resealable Vials, all ready to hold diluted Beddybyebyes Potion.

X

That lunchtime, Colin and Dennis came into the Great Hall to find that their arrival was generating a buzz of excitement.

"Hello, Colin," said a Ravensclaw fourth-year girl.

One or two other strangers said hello, and the greetings from Colin's friends were warmer than usual.

They went to sit with their own year-groups, but before they separated, Colin said: "Dennis, it's like I've got the Golden Glow again. People are looking at me, smiling at me, whispering at me, talking at me. The owls are going to come, I know. What's it all about?"

"Don't know, Col," said Dennis, "But if anyone deserves respect, Golden Glow or not, it's you."

"That's what brothers think, but it's not always true."

Colin sat down with Ray Kelly and Stewart Appiah.

"What's everyone on about, Ray?" asked Colin.

"The whole school—well, the three civilised houses—is alive with the rumours that you found your way into the third-year dormitory outside curfew, and that the boys there observed that you had an unusually large male organ," said Ray.

"Oh, is that all?"

"As a prefect, I should, of course, report this to Professor McGonagall."

"Oh, please don't, Ray. I don't think she'd really be interested in the size of my penis."

Ray and Stewart laughed raucously.

"Just think," said Stewart, "All these years and we never knew."

"It only came in the last few months," said Colin, "And Danny says it's only useful in fantasy—and Muggle fantasy, at that."

"Well, there's a helluva lot of fantasy going on here!"

The three boys laughed a lot more.

The Couple came in and Sea Jay, remembering his former rôle as Gryffindor Gay Champion, approached the first-years shouting: "I hope you five are going to the JIGS meeting tonight."

While Sea-Jay was waving the flag, Ray gave a little pep-talk: "One thing I would ask, Colin, is that you restrict your night-time visits to other dormitories to weekends. You don't want to foul up the third-years' education, and it is O.W.L.'s year for us."

"You never!" said Jonny, "Well done, Colin. Why didn't you tell us? How did you do it?"

"Tell you later," said Colin.

Jonny looked around the hall.

"Is that why eyes are focusing on you?" he asked.

"Er, it's probably willy-size as well. The third-years peeped when I was asleep, and they've been gossiping."

"Yeah, you said you'd been growing."

Sea Jay came and sat down.

"Only three of them are going," he said, "The brown boy and the wispy fair-haired one said they weren't interested."

Typical Gryffindor," said Ray, "They could easily have said yes or they'd think about it, and not gone."

"All five of them were interested in you, though, Colin," said Sea Jay, "Tell us the story."

"Tell you later," said Colin.

And he did tell them later, as they were preparing the Beddybyebyes doses to take down to Ravenclaw married quarters for Adam and James to distribute on to Hufflepuff, and even (courtesy of Harper) Slytherin.

—CHAPTER EIGHT— Lachlan Learns

Lachlan found Saturday evening tremendous fun. The games were fast but not too rough as girls had to play too.

He was hoping to have a chase-round with Campbell and the MacKenzie twins, but never found himself near them.

Zabini reverse-tagged him on the bottom, and Lachlan told him: "I'm on for Tuesday!"

"Excellent, Tibbs!" said Zabini.

He still had his hand on Lachlan's bottom. Lachlan knew that this wasn't polite, but it felt nice, even so.

Strangely enough, the only other person who exceeded normal bounds of bottom-intimacy that night had exactly the same facial expression as Zabini, though without Zabini's good looks. It was a Welsh second-year called Morgan. He had a rather fat and ugly face, but his hand also felt good on Lachlan's bottom.

"You're a bit of alright!" he told Lachlan, which was presumably a Welsh way of expressing solidarity.

Then he met the younger Creevey and thought how sad it was for him not to be able to meet up with his brother.

Dobby had told him that morning about elf-Apparating and Side-Alonging so he went to the kitchen and asked Dobby to deliver Colin to Dennis.

Dobby was delighted—not just because it was Master Tibby, but because the Creeveys were friends of Harry Potter.

Lachlan lay in bed thinking about brotherhood: perhaps his desire to unite the Creeveys was connected to his own loss of a brother: he saw now that, for a year, Draco had been like a big brother to him.

He started to rub Mountjoy while thinking about the Creeveys and the MacKenzies, who were a special sort of brother.

But by the time that his moaning and squealing began, he was thinking of Urquhart and Vaisey paddling naked through the stream and Vaisey's bottom as the brown snake emerged.

X

On Sunday morning he got up at seven o'clock and set off immediately for the culvert. He wanted to find out why these two boys had been shifting stones from the brook.

He took off all his clothes off, and walked carefully along the bed of the brook.

It was cold.

There didn't seem to be anything unusual, except for two spades and a pickaxe propped against the side of the culvert.

He reached the mid-point of the culvert and had to stop: there was a Shield Charm.

On the other side of the Charm, he could see lots of stones, so presumably, Urquhart and Vaisey and their colleagues would have to get Exeats from the school in order to clear these, so leaving a stone-free brook-bed.

Presumably the tools were to be used to lower the bed further. But why? It was a complete mystery. If they were looking for gold, they could do that anywhere along the brook. Perhaps there was some special mineral that was only found under bridges and culverts.

Lachlan got out of the brook and shook himself dry.

He put on his clothes and walked back looking and listening for birds.

His dipper was there, this time with its hen.

He stood looking for ten minutes, thinking how he had promised Mac to bring him next time.

It was much nicer to be alone; but Mac didn't think so: he wanted company or friendship.

There was that word again: friendship.

He thought suddenly of breakfast: he was very hungry, and people had said that the Sunday breakfasts at Hogwarts were special.

The day might have started with a mystery, but it continued with straightforward pleasure: he had steamed cod and devilled kidneys to eat, a lovely poo, and a splendid rub at Mountjoy.

He went to the library and read about the Gallic Wars. It would be nice to read about them in Latin. He must work harder.

Papyrus found him and sat in his lap.

The witch who ran the library looked at them very hard, but on seeing that neither of them intended to rip her books to shreds, she directed her hard looks elsewhere.

He stretched his legs and had some elevenses, then returned to the library, noticing on the way that some Hufflepuffs were kicking a football around.

He hoped he would be allowed to join in one day.

Mr Fay from Herbology was playing and looked skilful when he had the ball.

Draco and his lieutenants were watching.

It was not like Draco to take an interest in a Muggle activity.

He went inside, became engrossed in his books and was late for lunch.

As he walked along the Slytherin tables, people were looking at him and talking. He heard some words: Here he is . . . Call me Tibby . . . Apparently . . .

It seemed a bit of a fuss to make about lateness.

No it wasn't that of course: it was all the other things he had done, starting with him knowing what was in his textbooks.

As he passed her, a girl called Astoria Greengrass called out: "Hello, big boy!"

There were guffaws and Lachlan smiled politely at her.

He was five minutes into his food when the significance of big boy came to him: in spite of all the exciting and original things he had done, he had become famous merely for having a big dicky.

He roared with laughter.

"What's the joke?" asked Mac.

"Are you alright, Tibbs?" asked Houlihan.

"Just thinking of something," he said.

His companions were glancing at each other. It must be because of his big dicky.

After lunch Lachlan was introduced to the game of Lawn Chins.

Not having to control a broomstick, Lachlan's athleticism was able to flourish. He ran rings round all the opposition and was picked for the big boy's high-speed Cardie game.

He had to sit out some junior games and saw Lee Shepherd sitting with another boy and two girls.

He nodded hello at Lee, who came running over to him.

"Hi Tibby," he said, "My head was so spinning, I don't remember whether I said thank you. It was truly good of you."

"Forget it. Your love-life's looking up, I see."

"It's awful I don't want to be here at all, it's so upsetting."

"Oh it's another girl, is it? Those two you're with seem quite nice."

"No, it's James: but he insists we hang around with these two girls. He fancies the short one."

"Well, he may be your friend, but I should tell him goodbye and go and find your girlfriend."

"I haven't got a girlfriend."

"Well you won't win her over by hanging around with other people."

"I don't want any girlfriend; I want to be with James all the time."

"What's all this about your love-life then? I don't understand."

"James is my love-life."

"How do you mean?"

"I'm in love with James."

Lachlan's brain scrambled to make sense of this.

"You're in love with a boy?"

"Yes; with James."

Mills and Boon had nothing to say about this new sort of love.

"I don't know what to say, Lee. It's all totally new to me. Let me have a think about it and we'll talk later."

He wandered away and walked around the field.

He had been thinking a lot about friendship between boys; but love! And love which tortured the soul as in those novels.

It seemed mad: there was nothing for two boys to do.

Perhaps it was that Platonic love they talked about in the proper Muggle novels: love like a sister and brother, except this would be like two brothers.

He wished he had a brother; then they could try Platonic love out.

His thoughts were diverted by a call of Tibby, we're on! from a Ravenclaw sixth-year.

He ran onto the field and soon forgot about Lee Shepherd and his strange love as he jinked and jerked, battling the Chin and the opposition.

They won the game and would be in the final.

He ran off the field to applause and saw that the Creevey brothers were watching the games.

He decided: bugger keeping it secret; Colin had broken cover anyway during the Saturday night games.

He went over and said: "Hello Colin; hello Dennis: please may I have a private word, Colin? About more goings on."

"These are friends, Tibby, you can trust them as much as you can trust me."

The two friends were holding hands. Lachlan had seen this before: maybe sensible if you were walking along, but why when sitting down?

They were introduced as Christopher Harris-Neil and Jonathan Neil-Harris.

Ah, that was it: the boys were cousins: brother and sister had married brother and sister and produced these two striking young wizards.

Snooty purebloods were always doing that, and these boys were holding hands to show their breeding.

"Pleased to meet you, Christopher and Jonathan," he said, "Though I must confess I don't think blood status is important."

The boys glanced at each other.

"Nor do we," said Jonathan. He was rather a plain boy, but tall and graceful. Tibby thought he looked active and intelligent.

"You're the one who got Colin a lot of hassle, this lunchtime," said Christopher, a handsome, romantic boy who might have stepped straight from the pages of Jane Austen, one of Lachlan's favourite authors.

Lachlan was concerned: he didn't want anyone in the world to have any hassle at all.

"Oh, Colin," he said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. Can I help to put it right?"

"Don't worry, Tibby," laughed Colin, "It was only a joke hassle."

"Oh that's alright, then," said Tibby, much relieved, "I had a joke hassle myself this lunchtime. You wouldn't believe how silly people can be."

"Try us, Tibby," said Jonathan.

"Well when I was in a dormitory, the other boys saw my dicky and made the most ridiculous fuss about how big it was, and spread it through the house; and they all act as if it mattered."

Again the four boys glanced at each other, but this time they burst into hysterical laughter.

"I know," Lachlan said, "it's absurd, isn't it?"

"It's not just that, Tibby," said Colin, "It's because I'm in exactly the same position. You got me into Dennis's dorm and his dorm-mates saw my willy and told people, so I had a lunchtime like yours."

"Wow!" said Lachlan, "The Sisters would call it the Hand of God; The Muggle novels, Fate; and I call it a nice coincidence. Aren't people stupid, Colin?"

"Yes," said Colin, "I agree with you, Tibby, the size of people's willies doesn't matter in the least."

"Anyway," said Lachlan, "I'd better tell you what's been happening before I'm back on the field. It's another Slytherin conspiracy, and just as baffling as the first one.

He gave them a summary of the events under the culvert.

"Weird," said Jonathan.

"Some trolls live under bridges," said Dennis.

"The books say that you can always tell where a troll lives by the stench," said Lachlan, "And it was clean air under the culvert."

They discussed various possibilities, all of them unlikely, before Lachlan was called to the field.

He had a brilliant game, including a stunning double, which involved tricking the Chin to immobilise two of the opposition in quick succession. It was not so far off from being a treble, which hadn't been done since nineteen sixty-four.

During the game, the Slytherin girls cheered him on.

By the middle of the game, girls from all four houses were cheering him.

The news had spread.

They were doubly stupid, he thought: girls didn't matter to him, and dicky size didn't matter to anyone.

"Pity you can't do it when you're on a broomstick," said Clark at dinner.

X

At five to seven, Lachlan set off for Classroom 3E.

The door was open and he walked in. There were three boys already there and a bigger boy standing at the front. Lachlan recognised him as David Ward—he had been pointed out to him, and no other boy in the school had waist-length hair.

Lachlan shook hands with David, agreed with him that this was Tibby meeting Wardy, and sat down.

Two more boys came in, one of them the famous Bloom.

He was dressed as a normal male, but he was wearing girl's make-up, which, ironically, the girls weren't allowed to do. And there was a second irony: It was Bloom, the gay boy, who had got one over on the Establishment.

Lachlan laughed at these ironies, drawing startled glances.

Finally three Gryffindors came in: the blond Campbell; the dark Treharne; and a brown-haired boy called McKay—this was the one with the funny spelling to his Christian name.

McKay was tiny: Lachlan could have perched him on his knee and stroked him like Papyrus.

He wished he'd brought Papyrus; but the boy in charge had closed the door and was speaking.

"Hello, I'm David Ward, or Wardy, whichever you prefer. Does anyone know of anyone else coming? . . . Then let's start.

"Before we introduce ourselves, I'll give you a bit of background: a year ago gayness was more or less totally underground at Hogwarts. Then a charismatic little thirteen-year-old called Danny Jorrocks decided that it should take its proper place as an accepted life choice—either temporary or permanent—and have equal status with the majority choice.

"His decided that the first priority was to ensure that each new generation of students should be given a fair picture of gay life so that they didn't have to live with ignorance, stress, confusion, isolation or depression. So last year, Danny started a Juniors in Gay Support Group for the first-years. There were thirteen genuine Jiggers, many of them members as supporters of gay boys. This year it looks like only nine, which I believe is down to there being only one Danny Jorrocks.

"After JIGS was firmly established, Danny created a system whereby a Gay Champion was appointed for each house to deal with Problems, Hopes, Education, and Activities to do with gayness. The four Champions met frequently to discuss and organise school-wide issues.

"The result of all this work, will have been apparent to you all, even after only a week at Hogwarts. Gayness is accepted; gay couples and groups are lovingly supported; we even have two married couples."

This was too much for Lachlan. He put up his hand and said: "Are we allowed to interject, Wardy?"

"Please do, Tibby."

"Well, it's object rather than interject, really. I simply cannot accept that gayness is a choice and I simply cannot see the relevance of marriage to this group, apart from the fact that our fathers and mothers were married."

"Both important points, Tibby. The subject of choice is complicated and much-debated and we will go into it in depth in the coming weeks. As for marriage, people object to the word, but I strongly believe that we should use it because it presents the idea of total equality that we embrace."

"But this is a group for gay boys. Why confuse things by bringing girls into it?"

David looked lost.

"We're not bringing girls into it, Tibby."

"Well, half of each marriage is a girl."

"No, we're talking about boys: only boys."

"But they've still got wives, and you can't deal with the boys without dealing with their wives."

"There aren't any wives or girls. These are boys only."

"Without wives or girls?"

"That's right."

"Wait a minute! Are you telling us that your two married couples are four boys?"

"Yes."

Lachlan laughed.

"That's mad!" he said, "Boys can't marry boys. How are they going to make babies? They haven't got slits."

"There's more to marriage than having babies," said David, "And if they want to have babies they can always adopt."

"Sorry; please go on. I'm still confused, but I'll shut up for now."

"No need to be sorry, Tibby. You've brought up two good points to go into later. For the moment, let's introduce ourselves, starting with you, Tibby, as you're a good speaker. Name, house, comment if you want, why you're here if you want."

Lachlan Tibbs, Gryffindor, Tibby to my friends, which is you. I'm here to give my total support to gay boys.

"Then why did you laugh at me?" said Bloom, sharply.

"I wasn't laughing at you, you silly sensitive soul," said Lachlan, "I was laughing with you. You're wearing make-up, and none of the girls are allowed to do that. And you're meant to be the weakling, but you've shown you're too strong to be bossed about.

"Very good, Tibby," said David, "Let's pick up from you, Bloom."

Christopher Bloom, Ravenclaw, effeminate gay, and proud of it. What you see is what you get—until I get some nice frocks sent in.

There was some laughter, which everyone knew was with Christopher.

Adrian Woodman, Ravenclaw, gay; this is the first time I've ever told anyone.

Adrian was a serious-looking blond boy, with spectacles under a broad forehead.

Scott Fong, Hufflepuff; I don't know if I'm really gay, but I get these sort of attractions to boys.

"So do I!" said Lachlan, "Weird, isn't it?"

People looked puzzledly at him.

Scott continued:

And I get these urges. I need to talk about things.

Nathan Kirton, Hufflepuff, gay ever since I could remember; My dad's a Church of England vicar and he was upset by my being a wizard; I haven't dared tell him about being gay. I'm going to need a lot of support.

Nathan had spectacles and crinkly, flyaway, dark hair.

As he finished speaking, the group was startled when a cat-flap appeared and Papyrus came in.

He walked through the room as though everyone were part of the furniture, jumped onto Lachlan's lap, and started padding with his feet to find a comfy location. At last he was satisfied and curled up leaning against Lachlan's dicky.

Lachlan became conscious of the fact that his dicky had been hard ever since he had sat down.

David Mason, Hufflepuff, hadn't really thought about being gay until Scott and Nathan talked about it; so I'm here really under false pretences.

"Not false pretences at all if you're willing to support gay boys," said Wardy.

David Mason had a slightly ruddy complexion and thick hair that was of the lightest brown possible. He was very handsome and Lachlan could have spent all day looking at him.

Gareth Treharne, Gryffindor, not gay, but I want to have some fun while I'm here. I did it with an emmet boy this summer. It's bloody good.

Alan Campbell, Gryffindor, Gay and Out since I was nine; I was at Muggle school and took some stick; but sometimes the boys that tried to bully me in the day were chasing after me after school.

Ruairidh McKay, Gryffindor, I've always liked boys more than girls; after talking to Alan and Gareth, I think I might grow up to be gay.

Lachlan thought they were a sound bunch of boys: not in the least gay, apart from Bloom—and he was a sort of non-gay girl.

"Well, that's our group," said Wardy, "As befits a school society, education is the first priority. I'm three years older than you so I going to give you the benefit of my experience.

"Stop me at any time if you have questions or comments.

"You are currently pre-pubescent boys. That means that you're not yet fully developed and you can't become a father.

"Gradually, with the big changes coming when you're twelve to fifteen, you'll become men. This means your balls will drop from inside your body, if they haven't already; you'll get hair in your armpits and around your genitals and arsehole; and your cock and balls will begin to grow bigger.

"At some point you'll be able to shoot out a creamy, sticky fluid called semen, which is what gets females pregnant.

"And when this semen shoots out, you get a wonderful feeling of pleasure called an orgasm—What was that, Tibby?"

"Nothing. Papyrus stuck his claws in."

Lachlan had been about to blurt out that he got a wonderful feeling of pleasure without shooting out semen.

"For the next few years," continued Wardy, "You may get all sorts of mood swings—I'm still getting them, actually—and you'll be subject to strong physical urges and emotional passions. You may find yourself falling in love with a girl or, more likely, since you've joined a gay support group, another boy."

This time, Lachlan's hand was up before he could stop himself.

"Please, Sir!"

There was some laughter.

"Laughing with not at, group," said Wardy, "And Christian names here. What is it, Tibby?"

"I've got a—a friend who's fallen in love with another boy, and the boy just wants to be with the short girl."

"Sadly, that's quite a common problem," said Wardy, "And the best you can do is be a real friend to him and give him comfort, support and love."

"But if I give him love, wouldn't I have to be in love with him?"

"Not in the sort of Big-Love-Affair sense that the phrase In love usually means. There are lots of boys who love each other deeply and genuinely, without partnering off. I'm in a dorm of four, and we're all like that."

"What does comfort, support and love actually mean?"

"It means spending time with him, listening to him, showing him you care. An occasional kiss helps too."

"Yuch!" said David Mason, before Lachlan could say the same, "I don't fancy that at all!"

"That emmet wanted to kiss me," said Gareth Treharne, "I told him to piss off like you told Merryweather, Tibby. Did Merryweather want to kiss you?"

Everybody laughed.

"He can kiss me whenever he wants," said Christopher Bloom.

"And me," said Adrian Woodman.

Wardy was excited and pleased.

"This is one of the reasons why this group is important," he said, "We must learn that everybody's different, and it's not a case of one side being right and another wrong; it's a case of each side tolerating the other's views.

"I tolerate your views, Adrian," said Gareth, reaching to shake Adrian's hand. He repeated the operation with Christopher.

Then David Mason did the same and soon, with much laughter, everyone, including Wardy was shaking hands and tolerating views.

They even shook Papyrus's paw, though Papyrus didn't seen very tolerant of Lachlan getting up.

When things had settled, Wardy continued his lesson:

"Now, for the next few years, your main sexual activity is likely to be wanking. Who knows what wanking means?"

Only Gareth Treharne, Scott Fong and Alan Campbell knew.

Wardy explained wanking in some detail.

There were some interesting new words: erection . . . stiffie . . . spunk . . . the horn . . . glans . . . acorn . . . prepuce . . . a semi.

Nathan Kirton and David Mason then told the meeting that they were practised wankers, but hadn't known the word.

Lachlan was at a crossroads: his most intense physical sensations were personal to himself; yet these other boys had been so open about their own private lives.

That word Friendship came into his mind. He had felt in a community at Hogwarts. Now he would make these boys his friends. He would give them—and Lee Shepherd—comfort, support and love.

Wardy had started to talk when Lachlan interrupted him:

"Wardy, I want to tell you and the others about wanking. I've been doing it for a year and a half, and every time I do it, it feels good, and then it gets better, and then I get what you called a wonderful feeling of pleasure. I don't shoot that creamy semen, but it's still the best feeling in the world."

"You're a lucky boy, Tibby," said Wardy, "When I was in first-year there were five boys and we all wanked like anything. We all enjoyed it, but there was one boy who always came to a terrific climax, with screaming and groaning and jerking. He was having pre-pubertal orgasms, and I think that's what you have.

"Last year's Jiggers had two in fourteen who were like that; the dorm below me had one in six; the dorm above one in five, so it's pretty rare. Anyone else getting orgasms?"

"I do," said Gareth.

"And me," said Scott, "In my case it may be from my race. Chinese people have cultivated the pleasures of the six senses for thousands of years."

"Any chance of a demo with shooting, Wardy?" asked Gareth.

"We'll stick to theory for a few weeks," said Wardy, "Last year they left it until Christmas; then it was a very full practical."

"That's a long time to wait, Wardy," said Alan Campbell.

"Well, we'll see," said Wardy, "But for now; more theory.

"We've talked about wanking, which is having solitary sex. Now let's get onto boys having sex together."

Lachlan laughed, and shouted: "Boys can't have sex together!"

There was a stunned silence.

"What on earth do you mean, Tibby?" asked Wardy.

"Well, I told you earlier: boys don't have a slit. Which reminds me: Christopher, have you got a slit or a cock or both?"

They all cracked up with laughter—even Wardy.

"Are you taking the piss?" laughed Christopher.

"No, it's a perfectly serious question."

"Well, I'm built the same as every other boy."

Lachlan turned back to Wardy and said: "That proves it! Boys can't have sex together!"

"Quiet please!" Wardy said to the group, then to Lachlan: "Tibby, this is a group for gay support. What do you think gay means?"

"Useless, I suppose; contemptible; silly; the sort of thing that would interest wimps, or nerds, or weaklings, or softies, or simpletons, or—"

"Yeah, I get the picture," said Wardy, "Listen, Tibby, how do you think a gay boy has sex?"

"By sticking his dicky in a girl's fanny."

"Tibby, most gay boys wouldn't want to go anywhere near a girl's fanny. You've been thinking of an abusive form of gay. The true definition of a gay boy is a boy who has sex with other boys."

"But boys can't—"

"Boys can! Listen: you wank yourself off; well two boys could wank themselves off together, couldn't they?"

"Yes; I saw three boys doing that once."

"Or they could wank each other off."

"Yes."

"Or they could wank off not using a hand, but rubbing against another boy's body, or between his thighs."

"Ye—es."

"Or by sticking their cock into another boy's arsehole, and rubbing themself off just as a straight boy rubs himself off inside a girl's fanny."

Lachlan laughed: "That's really weird! Who'd want to do that?"

He was surprised to hear: I would . . . me too . . . I've done it . . . and me; and then he did my arsehole.

Lachlan was culture-shocked: "But . . . but, that's filthy. You'd get poo all over your dicky."

"It's worth it, I assure you," said Wardy, "It's called bumming."

"Then what about the other poor boy? It would hurt him."

"Tibby, when any two gay boys get together, they can discover as much pleasure from the back as from the front."

"Does it feel like having a poo? I enjoy having a poo."

"There you are then: you're already getting pleasure from your arsehole."

"I need to go away and have a think about things," said Lachlan.

"Yeah, we've done enough for one night, said Wardy, "Shall we meet at the same time next week? And, Tibby, if you want to back out, we'll all understand."

"Back out? You're not frightening me off with your weird behaviour. I've got ten friends now, and I'm not going to throw away nine of them. Anyway, I'm still supporting gays, just a different sort of gays."

He got claps and cheers for this.

"Before we go, Wardy and Tibby," said Scott, "We ought to present Tibby with another fact. Do you know what I'm talking about, Gareth?"

"What, a nice tasty fact?"

The two boys laughed at their private joke.

"Tibby," said Scott, "One of the best things in life is putting your cock into your little—into a friend's mouth and having him suck you until you come. I just thought you ought to know that, so you've got time to get your head round it, as you might say, before next week."

It sounded from the odd Urrrgh! as though some other members of the group were not too keen on mouth-sex either.

Wardy laughed and said: "Remember about Tolerance, gang. And if you care to talk about anything during the next seven days, you couldn't find better people than last year's Jiggers?"

"Who were they?" asked several members.

"All five Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs; Tintin Wilkes and Caerwen Morgan from Ravenclaw; Slytherin's a problem, Tibby: Last year's were Hudson, who's left and Passaro, who turned out to be a nasty, anti-gay crook."

"I'll manage, Wardy," said Lachlan.

The meeting broke up, and Lachlan refused Bloom's suggestion that his non-slit could be made available for inspection in a nearby urinal.

With Papyrus-in-arms, he lurked at the end of the corridor.

He heard Wardy mutter: Equal Opportunities.

It was good to know passwords.

Lachlan went back to Slytherin.

He got himself a coffee and went to sit with the other first years.

"How'd it go, Tibby?" said Abu.

"You don't want to know."

"Yes we bloody well do!" said Mac.

"It was all about sex."

"Did they make you do sex?" asked Clark.

"No it was all talk—horrible talk."

"What do you mean?" asked Mac.

"Well . . ." said Lachlan, lowering his voice and leaning forward.

Four fascinated heads bent close to Lachlan's.

". . . Did you know that gay boys sometimes have sex together?"

"Aye, ye hefty wassoch," said Mac, reverting to Doric in his emotion, "That's what maks 'em gay!"

"And did you know that they sometimes stick their cocks in arseholes and mouths?"

"Did you not know that before?" asked Houlihan.

"No, I thought it was gay meaning weedy."

The four boys laughed.

"It's alright for you to laugh," said Lachlan, "But no-one told me what to expect, and I can't know what I've never learnt, and we've had a whole week's lessons without them telling us what gay meant."

For some reason, this made them laugh more.

He went to bed and rubbed Mountjoy—no: wanked himself off—thinking of all the new things there were to think about, but with the final image being once again of Urquhart and Vaisey in the nude.

—CHAPTER NINE— Danny's Problem-Child

Danny Jorrocks woke with the horn, and could do nothing about it.

Stepan always insisted that Danny sleep face down with Stepan on top.

In a few minutes, Stepan would wake, smash his erection into Danny and screw him hard before coming to a screaming orgasm.

Then he would insist that the two of them went to breakfast together, leaving Danny in a frustrated state, to be cheered by morning hugs from his boyfriend, Brian, and his sons, Boris and Pavel.

Of the twenty boys at Yorosk Wizard School, Stepan was the only one with serious problems.

When Gully had rescued the five remaining gay boys from the Butyrka centre where they were being trained in the dark arts, Danny had known that would be some difficulties in integrating them into an established group of fifteen loving boys with mild psychic linkage.

But behaviour like Stepan's was wildly unacceptable: he was a bully; and, unlike the proverbial bully, he was fearless.

He had been allocated Veniamin as his mentor. Veniamin was eleven, a full year older than Stepan.

Things had gone reasonably well while they were on holiday at Novorossisk, but on the first night at Yorosk, Stepan had entered Veniamin's room, thrown out fourteen-year-old Yefim who had been Veniamin's company for the night, and proceeded to beat and rape Veniamin.

Admittedly, the beating had broken no bones, nor had the rape with a four-and-a-half-inch penis not been particularly onerous—indeed, it had given Veniamin a pre-pubescent orgasm—, but Veniamin had been very upset and asked Danny the next morning: "Do I really have to be Stepan's bitch?"

Danny shuddered as he remembered that first twinge of horror.

His recollections were suspended as Stepan woke up and commenced his morning exercises.

"Whore!" he yelled, in his little-boy voice, as he reached his orgasm, "Slut! . . . Dogpiss! . . . Worm! . . . Shiteater!"

He spat at Danny's bumhole and ordered: "Get up."

They went to the breakfast room, where Danny greeted his family and Stepan went to sit with Veniamin, who he insisted was still his mentor, even if he was not his bitch.

When they were sitting together as a group, Stepan always commanded that Veniamin put an arm around him. That was the nearest to a cuddle that Stepan would allow. It was a power thing, thought Danny, nothing to do with Friendship, let alone Love.

As for kissing, Stepan still shunned it, but at least he had stopped abusing those who indulged, though he glared viciously if anyone mentioned the word Love.

At break, Danny looked at his other newcomers.

Little Taras was nine years old like his mentor, Semyon. He was even smaller than Semyon, and the two tiny boys found comfort in each other, sometimes holding hands during the day, and always wrapped in a tight knot during the night.

Vitaly was a tall, dark-blond ten-year-old, as meek and sweet-natured a boy as Danny had ever met. He followed his mentor, Konstantin, like a spaniel and his loudest noise was of happy laughter when Konstantin was having an orgasm.

Mark was fourteen and a late developer: no sign of organ growth or body hair—which, when it came, would likely be very thick, black and curly if his head was anything to go by. He was being mentored by Yefim, but it was hard to say who was mentoring whom, as these two boys helped each other put terrible experiences behind them.

Pyotr Kalinov sometimes crept out his brother's bed in the middle of the night and joined Mark and Yefim.

Rodion was a happy, ebullient sixteen-year-old; and nothing was more ebullient than his cum: he produced, in Danny's judgment, as much as Dean Thomas.

Danny was missing his Kick-starts, but one day he hoped Rodion would get to inflate Danny's rectum with multiple streams spurted from his six-incher.

The boys called Rodion paren pulverizator, the atomiser fellow.

These four were settling in after initial nerves. It had helped a lot that they had first come into the community at a seaside resort.

But Stepan . . . Stepan had been so disruptive, even though he had restricted himself to mutually voluntary sex after that first night.

The situation had become critical after Stepan had drawn Alexei Kalinov on a Pairs Night.

The boys had previously fallen out, but it had blown over and was forgotten as far as Alexei was concerned.

Stepan shared Alexei's bed, but refused to let them touch each other.

He waited until Alexei was asleep and then did a messy shit on his face.

Danny put Stepan under a Bodybind and consulted Professor de Castro the next morning.

"It's the last straw, Daniel," said the Professor, "I've been thinking for some days that he'll have to go."

"We can't do that, Sir."

"We must do that, Daniel. We have eighteen young, vulnerable boys to think of."

"But we can't just abandon him! No-one deserves to be abandoned."

"We won't just abandon him: I suggest we take away his wand and set him to live and work on a Muggle kibbutz. That way he can take out his aggression on the land, and has the best chance of finding peace and happiness."

"He's a good wizard for his age, though."

"I don't think he can handle it. He needs a simple life and in a few years, he'll de-wizard naturally."

"Let me have one last go, Sir. Please."

"Very well, Daniel; one last go."

Daniel went to talk to Stepan:

"I'm afraid, Stepan, that the headmaster thinks you'll have to leave."

"Why? Alexei insulted me: he called me a cheat. So I insulted him: I crapped on his face. It's equal. If I go, so must Alexei."

"It's not equal. Alexei did something without thinking; you planned a cruel revenge."

"It was funny."

"It was not funny. Cruelty is never funny, and if you can't see that, I agree with the Professor: you'll have to go."

"And if I do see that?"

"If you are prepared to treat everyone at Yorosk with respect and try to understand the friendship we feel for each other and to join it, you can have one last chance."

"Difficult. I would need a master to keep me correct. If you will be my master, and I yours, then I promise to try my hardest."

"How can we both be master?"

"You are master by day and I by night. Every night you spend in my room and you are my slave and do whatever I say. Every day I go to lessons and I am your slave and do whatever you say."

Although it was a bit of a blind deal, Danny agreed, and they shook hands on it.

On the first night, Danny was worried about what was in store, but it could have been a lot worse.

Stepan got them to strip and said: "It is still day: you are master and I must be punished. Just this first night I will show you how to punish me."

He laid Danny face down and gave him a hard slap on each bumcheek.

Then he lay on top and pushed his penis inside Danny's anus.

He immediately withdrew, pushed Danny aside and lay face down himself.

"You must do that to me. Six spanks each side and then you must rape me."

Danny was simultaneously amused, repelled and strangely excited.

But whatever his feelings, he resolved to obey Stepan to the letter.

He gave the tiny bottom twelve hard slaps and jerked his penis hard inside the boy's bumhole.

It must have hurt, but the boy gave out not a squeal, and Danny enjoyed a wonderful shag, albeit in unusual circumstances.

He lay panting, kissing Stepan's neck and working his arms round to cuddle the boy.

But Stepan threw him off immediately.

He pooed out Danny's cream and smeared it over his privates.

Then he gave a shout of triumph, and Danny had to experience a hard spanking and a hard shagging, culminating in a noisy set of expletives screamed out as Stepan had what was clearly an intense orgasm.

Stepan had a large willy for a ten-year-old, but not big enough to do any damage—Danny's hole had taking a pounding from the new king-sized Colin a few weeks previously and was still well-stretched.

It nevertheless hurt when Stepan rammed in at full speed, and Danny went to sleep with a throbbing bumhole.

In the morning, Stepan shagged Danny again, and was as good as gold for the rest of the day.

Danny decided that he could cope: being spanked was surprisingly stimulating and spanking the boy and raping his way into his ten-year-old bum was a special pleasure, and something he had never expected to enjoy.

The down side was that he missed the companionship through the night of his family, and the sex with them and the other boys.

And through these difficult days, not one boy had complained. They might have been expected to feel that Stepan was too unpleasant a character to stay with them, but there were no emotions but support for Danny and hope for Stepan. Nearly no emotions: Nick and Yuri had experimented with spanking, as had little Semyon and Taras.

That night, Danny decided that, while he was master, he would give Stepan a little nudge.

But first there was the spectacle of the geyser challenge.

Ilya had always been a big cummer, but now his sixteen-and-a-half-year-old-body, had decided to mature a bit more, and he was a real gusher.

That evening, the naked boys, laughing with happiness, seated Ilya and Rodion knee-to-knee on two dining chairs and stood in two semicircles, eyed focused on the dazzling penises rising out of the big, black bushes, and the big testicles bulging through the tight, crinkly scrotums.

It was like shooting (ha-ha) one of those Muggle porn-films that the rent boy, Bent Darren, had told Danny about.

Darren had talked about professionals called fluffers whose task was to suck the film stars into a state of tumescence before the cameras rolled (ha-ha).

Ilya and Rodion had had no need of fluffers: their six-inch willies were ready for the off, Rodion's skinny and Ilya's fat, with its stimulating upward curve.

"Go!" said Danny.

Each boy started wanking, pulling the foreskin over his knob while staring at his friend's loins.

There was no subtlety; no variation in pace or direction.

They went full-tilt from the start, the spectators, arms round each other's shoulders, breathing as quietly as possible so as to catch the sound of flesh against flesh.

Ilya was the first to bring his lust into physical being: with a groan, he released a great jet of semen, moving almost too quickly for the eye to follow, against, Rodion's chest where it landed with an audible Splat!

A second spurt, even bigger, landed on Rodion's nose and spread across his face.

Rodion himself had been moaning for some time; now suddenly he released his first shot.

And what a shot! It was hard to believe that such a great gobbet of fluid could be forced so quickly out of the narrow passage running through Rodion's penis.

But there it was; before their eyes; and suddenly, Ilya's chest was wet all over.

The strong, acrid scent of boys' cum was in Danny's nostrils. He tried to identify Ilya and Rodion separately, but soon gave up: the slippery liquids had combined together to create a whole palette of odours.

And now the two heroes were letting off spurt after spurt at each other. It was a major exercise in fluid dynamics.

Even boys who had bedded one or both of the two wankers were amazed at the volume of stuff that was coming out. Ilya and Rodion had kept themselves dry for two days, and were doing the audience proud.

It was so good, it seemed it would last for ever, but Ilya discharged one final, weedy drop onto Rodion's ball-bag and the show was over.

Well, not quite: the two boys rose to their feet and hugged each other tightly.

While they kissed, they wriggled their bodies, creating little gloop sounds.

Some of the boys hurried over and wanked their own juice over the two boys.

Nicolai insinuated his willy between the two glutinous tummies and, bawling out his joy, added his own little contribution to the mess.

Others set up their own sex-parties.

Everyone seemed on a high.

Even Stepan didn't seem to mind when Danny, one arm round Brian, Boris kissing his bum, and Pavel his balls, wanked himself off over Stepan's chest.

All around there were cries of joy.

And inside Danny's head, there were feelings of delight that everyone was happy; each one of the—yes, it was still fifteen, sadly. But surely it would soon be twenty .

X

At bedtime, Danny brushed his teeth and walked into Stepan's room.

As usual, the boy was face down on the bed, his delightful little bum having its wonderful curves highlighted in the flickering light.

As usual, Danny gave a sharp slap on the nearer cheek; then one for the other cheek.

Not as usual, Stepan gave a groan of pleasure.

Danny decided that the boy had been excited by the geyser challenge.

Tonight was a good night to try and open Stepan's mind.

"Who is your master, Stepan?"

"You are, Master."

"Then lie face up."

The boy obeyed, looking at Danny, to try and understand the reason for this deviation from normal procedure.

"Now fold your arms."

The boy obeyed, and Danny lay on top of him so that they were eye-to-eye.

Stepan looked apprehensive: this was clearly a bit too intimate for his liking.

Danny hugged Stepan tightly; then he placed his lips against Stepan's.

The boy turned his head away and tried to throw Danny off.

Danny was not big, but he was far too much of a weight for Stepan.

He went for Stepan's lips again, but the boy turned his head in the other direction.

He chased the boy's lips for a time, but he was only toying with him: he brought up one hand and clamped Stepan's head in a central position.

The boy tried to escape, but was totally under Danny's control.

He placed his lips against Stepan's, and pressed.

The boy struggled wildly for a moment or two, then recognised a lost cause, and lay passively.

Danny licked the boy's lips, round and round and from side to side.

He backed off to take in some air, and Stepan spat into his mouth.

"God, that was sexy!" said Danny, "Does that mean that Stepan loves his master?"

"Shut up!"

Danny licked the lips again, then pushed his tongue further in.

He licked the inside of the lips now, as deeply up, down and sideways as he could.

Stepan gave another of his boyish groans of pleasure.

Danny withdrew from the boy's mouth.

"Master thinks that Stepan is a wonderful wizard," he said, "Stepan is Master's boy. Master thinks that Stepan is a wonderful boy. Master loves his Stepan very much."

"Shut up!" shouted the boy again.

"And now it is night," said Danny, rising and releasing Stepan.

The boy was up immediately and Danny was scarcely settled face down on the bed, when the first slap arrived.

"Bastard!" shouted Stepan, "Bastard! . . . Bastard! . . . Bastard! . . . Bastard! . . . Bastard! . . . Bastard! . . ."

He was giving it his all. His hand must be stinging. Danny's eyes were certainly watering more than usual.

Then Stepan was lying on top off Danny.

The bumhole was breached as roughly as Stepan could manage; the shagging was also right up to the boy's limits in terms of strength and speed.

The boy's orgasm came quickly, but was unaccompanied by the usual profanities.

Stepan was biting into Danny's neck, sucking hard between breaths, and making extraordinary whimpering noises.

The both lay still.

Stepan was still sucking Danny's neck, but gently.

Danny was happy: perhaps this was just the beginning of Stepan's realisation that all the violent emotions he had felt were in reality perverted twistings of something more positive: something that reached out to other people and provided comradeship through life.

To his joy a hand pushed between Danny and the mattress.

Stepan was holding him!

X

Magical Ministries of all countries have been reluctant to embrace any Muggle technology, more modern than the steam engine.

Jorrocks and Company, which channelled goods and services between the magic and Muggle worlds, taking a good commission at each end of every transaction, was a reasonably modern organisation. It used electricity and Muggle motor cars and motor cycles, for example.

Messages from Yorosk to Hogwarts went via Radiofax to Jorrocks' Moscow office; then via ordinary Muggle Fax to the Edinburgh office of Corstorphine Pembroke, the Jorrocks lawyer; then by owl to Hogwarts.

This was much quicker than in Umbridge's days, when owls were being read, and messages had to be concealed within apparently harmless missives to or from students' parents.

The recent introduction of the Edinburgh connection had bypassed London and saved four hundred miles of owl-flight.

Danny Jorrocks and Colin Creevey were able to exchange daily owls concerning the irritating or mysterious goings-on at Hogwarts.

It seemed to Danny that Voldemort was employing the same approach as in the previous year: a scatter-gun attack in the hope that one of his pellets might actually hit the target.

The statue mystery was a standard bit of magic which Danny thought he would be able to solve. There was no urgency at all, because whoever had set Urquhart and Vaisey on this particular task had made an amusing mistake.

The culvert mystery was more difficult and required Professor de Castro's superior knowledge and experience.

"Running water has a vitiating effect on Defensive Charms," said the Professor, "And a magnifying effect on Offensive Charms.

"The Hogwarts perimeter wall has, no doubt, a comprehensive set of Shield and Blocking Charms. These will extend deep into the ground making new tunnels nigh-on impossible.

"The burn running under the wall will, however, reduce the range of the charms to an extent dependent on the amount of water flowing.

"So at this weak point, it should be possible to dig a useable tunnel at a reasonably shallow depth. However, digging a tunnel beneath the path of a burn is a doomed enterprise: some point will constitute a weakest link, and the water will break through.

"The current operation would appear to be the first workings in the construction of a trench."

"But what use would that be Professor?" said Danny, "The water would still be at the same level and, once the trench had filled, would be flowing at the same rate."

"Ah but they could gain vertical distance, Daniel."

"Only if they could walk along the bottom, Sir. Are they going to use divers, do you think?"

"Depending on the depth of the ditch, I suspect that, even with powerful Anti-Shield charms, they would have to crawl along the bottom; and if the old Hogwarts builders knew their stuff, they would need a casing of iron."

"Blimey, a submarine!"

"A one-man sub on wheels, powered by internal cranks."

"Sounds like you need a crank to turn the cranks. The whole thing would be so heavy that I don't see how the wheels could get a purchase; there'd be hardly any air; waterproofing would be difficult."

"Not insoluble difficulties, Daniel."

"It's hardly going to allow an invading army in, is it?"

"Single assassins have changed history before, Daniel; in any case, the submarine could be pulled back by an iron hawser for re-use. A team of half a dozen assassins would pose a serious threat."

"Seems typical Voldemort: half-baked, but might just work. I assume they have to remove the stones and dig the soil manually because any spell, even a harmless Levitation, would be subject to attack by the Shield Charms?"

"Correct."

"So we put the stones back and that's it sorted."

"Not at all Daniel, the stones could be taken away again. There would have to be a watch. It would be like Penelope and her tapestry."

"Not if we put an Offensive Charm on the stones, Sir. Supposing each stone were charmed so that it attacked anyone who picked it up apart from the original Charmer with, say, a Stinging Hex. Then the stream would work in our favour."

"What a good idea! Why didn't the Hogwarts builders think of that?"

"They hadn't read Clausewitz, Sir."

X

Danny was not very worried about the statue and culvert schemes; and he thought that his Beddybyebyes idea had a good chance of working.

What worried him most was the Entry Charm, which prevented boys visiting each other's dormitories for most of the time.

The Child in him wanted the Hogwarts boys to be able to break school rules; to be in forbidden places; to do unsanctioned things: to be free, in other words.

The Parent wanted Friendship, Love and Sex to be unrestricted. Within a house, apart from a widening in choice of partner, mobility between dormitories allowed mixing of age-groups: younger boys could learn from older boys—or, as often as not older from younger.

The Adult was aware from experience, and from what he knew about Harry Potter's experiences, that Professor Dumbledore could not be relied on to protect the students from the multifarious evils attacking Hogwarts. Dormitories were vital meeting places within which schemes could evolve, and vital jumping-off points for Commando raids, as Colin now called them.

An important spin-off arising from the removal of the Entry Charms was the inter-house capability: boys who had been invited to Gryffindor from another house would automatically have access to its dormitories.

The Juvenile Charm to enable boys to slip into alien dormitories no longer worked. Danny had no doubt that he could come up with an alternative. But once they knew of this, the Hogwarts staff would instal a counter-counter charm. It would be like a Muggle arms race.

Danny was looking for a robust, permanent solution; and currently he was stumped.

He decided not to put the problem to Professor de Castro, feeling that it would be unethical to ask one headmaster to undo steps which another headmaster, bona fide, had taking to protect his charges.

Danny had time, while the sleeping Stepan was lying on top of him, to think up a number of possibilities—and reject them.

As for Stepan, things were progressing—if only in a two steps forward, one step back manner.

That day, Stepan had been particularly impressive in his behaviour: he had been nice to one boy and helped another in his spellwork.

Danny had been emboldened to try a little variation.

He had omitted the spanking altogether and laid Stepan face up.

The boy folded his arms as though expecting a kissing session, but Danny went straight for Stepan's intimate area.

He pushed his head between the boy's thighs and licked the sack, first one side and then the other, shifting the two little rubbery balls about.

There was a stale, salty taste; a taste that Danny was familiar with: the taste of a very pre-pubescent boy; a taste first-rate in itself, but also first-rate in its promise of the wider range of pungencies that would develop over the next few years.

Danny stuck his tongue into the groin at the side of the sack.

The taste here was slightly different.

The boys showered theoretically once a week, but some of the little boys never bothered, their bodies remaining unwashed until Madam Shelepina-Matron noticed a tide-mark around their neck and threatened them with a scrubbing-brush.

Danny moved to Stepan's penis, eschewing niceties and taking its entirety into his mouth.

He started to suck forcefully and immediately got a violent reaction, as Stepan shagged his mouth hard.

Danny had to concentrate to keep his teeth clear.

As Stepan started to come, his hold on Danny's ears tightened, and he forced his head downwards.

Danny's ears were hurting, and he could hardly breathe, though he enjoyed the silkiness of Stepan's skin under his nose.

The boy started to scream, and Danny was aware of another screaming: Konstantin was pounding Vitaly's mouth with as much violence as Stepan was using on Danny.

But from Konstantin there came nothing but love, while Stepan's fierce orgasm was an extension of the hatred that demanded spanking.

There was less hatred now, though and some of the expletives were aimed less at Danny than at Life and the World; Piss! . . . Jesus-shagger! . . . Scrotum! . . . Policeman! . . . Artem!

Who Artem had been, Danny had no idea, but somewhere in that invective had been his own name, and Danny had a warm and confident feeling that Danny! was a lot less hated than Artem!

They lay still. Danny knew that the cruel part of Stepan wanted to piss in Danny's mouth. A couple of weeks earlier and he definitely would have.

Danny gave him the chance—a long chance.

Eventually, Danny shifted over and told Stepan: "And now it is night, Master."

Stepan turned Danny face up.

"Fold your arms."

Stepan kissed Danny in a violent sort of way: sucking Danny's lips; battering the inside of Danny's mouth with his tongue; nibbling Danny's tongue.

Danny sensed Stepan's urge to bite . . . to hurt.

Without having to use much effort, he freed his arms and wrapped them firmly round Stepan.

The boy seemed to accept this, though his kissing became even rougher.

Danny's penis was lodged between Stepan's thighs.

Stepan raised his head and commanded: "Open your mouth."

Danny obeyed, and Stepan spat; then again; and again.

"Did you like that, Slave?"

"Yes Master."

"Would you like me to piss in your mouth?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you, and I can think of better ways of expressing it."

"Such as?"

"A kiss and a cuddle."

"We've just done that."

"Like this."

Danny arranged them sideways and embracing.

He kissed Stepan gently, his tongue resting on the boy's.

He stroked Stepan's back, then roamed wider, ranging from the crown of the head to the top of the thighs, taking in the fragile neck, the narrow shoulders, the bony back, and the diminutive bottom.

Stepan was in new territory, and avoided decisions about what to do next by following Danny's actions.

Danny's willy was still between the boy's thighs. Without thinking, he started swinging backwards and forwards.

Stepan, probably acting on instinct pressed his thighs together.

Danny squeezed the boy's upper bumcheek—scarcely a handful—extending a finger to fondle the hole that he had so violently assaulted over the last few weeks.

Danny's orgasm was long and sweet, much enhanced by the encouraging emotions he was receiving—mainly from Brian, but background stuff from some of the older boys who were still awake.

He pushed his leg between Stepan's, feeling the flood of stickiness.

He kissed the boy tenderly, whispering: "I love you, Stepan."

But the boy was asleep.

Danny felt happy: this was surely a turning point. Stepan would probably always feel the need for sexual violence, but, if all went well, it would be in a context of mutually loving lust: souls joining, as well as bodies.

It would be like that memorable night with Piers Polkiss and Oliver Wood.

The memory of Oliver Wood spanking him with a lot more oomph than Stepan, gave Danny the horn again, and he wanked against Stepan's tummy.

He felt relaxed and happy.

His mind settled into a blank.

Then, suddenly he was wide awake.

He had been struck by a Great Idea.

He knew how to break the Entry Shield!

He could get any boy into an alien dormitory!

He could get any boy into an alien house!

He could even get anybody into Hogwarts!

X

Next Morning, Danny woke up with a number of aches and incipient cramps in each leg.

Never mind: the pain was a mark of success. Danny and Stepan were still tangled together, with one of Stepan's hands holding tightly onto Danny.

Danny raised himself slightly and looked down at Stepan's sleeping face.

Was it wishful thinking, or was the boy's brow less furrowed? Did he really look less anguished than ever before?

Danny kissed Stepan's eyes, which opened and focused on Danny.

There was a slight smile on the boy's lips, but this vanished immediately.

He pushed Danny away, saying: "I'm worthless. I've been nasty and wicked."

"That's simply not true, Stepan," said Danny, "You've just given me one of the best nights in my life.

"No!" said Stepan, intensely, "I deserve to punished. Piss all over me."

"Okay," said Danny, "But this isn't really punishment; this is my Love, flowing out and embracing you."

Stepan stretched and lay face up on the bed.

"Just piss on me!" he shouted.

Danny did exactly that: he bestrode Stepan and aimed his morning pee in a stream that soaked him from head to foot.

Stepan rolled like a pig in its sty, deriving some intense personal enjoyment from the abuse; smiling for the second time that morning.

When Danny had shaken the last few drops out, the boys dressed and went cheerfully through to breakfast.

As soon as his stomach had been satisfied, Danny went to the library and looked up a reference in Ritual Magic in Defence of Righteousness by Blaby Stumpwistle.

Yes, that was it: De Canticis Obiectisque Magis cum Magis by Lactis Potator.

He sent an owl to Moscow HQ asking for the book to be sent to Yorosk, and received a copy the next day. Good old Gully. It was a rare book, and Gully had probably had to raid the Ministry library in Vladimir.

He found the procedure that he wanted, and flipped through the rest of the ancient pages.

What a lot of magic was available to gay wizards (Magis cum Magis to avoid the attentions of the mediæval Magical Inquisition)!

Some of it had penetrated to modern wizardry, he reflected: Ayling and Gunning, to name but two.

Danny worked out his plan, and sent a message to Colin; also a message to Gully asking him to buy some pure Muggle gold on behalf of Jorrocks and Company and have it waiting for Danny at Moscow HQ.

Danny didn't trust the magical properties of goblin gold: its metal content was undebased, but its use in works involving Love was sometimes affected by a residuum of goblin spite.

Having dealt with his out-tray, Danny went to the store-room and took seven glass Resealable Vials.

He then summoned his family and three other boys from their lessons.

He explained to Brian and the twins that he intended to visit Hogwarts shortly. The three of them were already registered, but he wanted them to have fuller powers.

He explained to Stepan that he wanted them to be close together, so Stepan would need to have access to Hogwarts.

"Work hard at your English," he told him.

And he explained that, although their registrations had long expired, Nicolai and Yuri had studied two years in preparation for Hogwarts; Yuri, indeed, had actually been there for a week.

There would be a strong psychic link and Danny told them that he wanted, as a precaution, to ensure that a physical link was achievable should it be needed.

Then he handed over the vials and explained their purpose.

There was animated writhing and tittering from the others: it isn't only disturbed boys who have a fascination with bodily fluids.

Only then did he go to the Headmaster and seek permission for his project. To get this he had to stray far from the truth; but truth is the first casualty in any war, he reflected.

By the evening, Stepan was getting a bit niffy. Danny insisted that he had a shower.

"Why?" said Stepan, "It feels like you've been holding me all day."

"But it's my piss," said Danny, "And I don't like having to do with my own body-stuff."

"You have a shower with me then."

As soon as they were naked, Stepan clamped himself against Danny and pissed over him; Danny, of course reciprocated.

Afterwards, they showered it all off, and went to bed the cleanest little boys in the school—a cleanliness which was spoiled after they had made love in a more conventional, but still messy, way.

That was the pattern for the next two nights.

Then, on Friday evening, Danny took Brian, Boris, Pavel and Stepan to London, stopping off in Moscow to get passport photographs taken and pick up the gold.

Brian and the twins were there to act as minders for Stepan.

The admirable Bittles, Chief Organiser at Jorrocks' London HQ was there to act as minder for all four boys.

Danny saw them safely to the Jorrocks guest-house in Pall Mall, and Apparated to Hogsmeade.

He walked, Disillusioned, down the Hogwarts drive as he had done, for serious and trivial purposes, so often in the past.

—CHAPTER TEN— Lachlan is Gay

Lachlan woke up on Monday morning with a thrill.

Something had changed because of that JIGS meeting. He felt that the rest of his life would never be the same. Unknown secrets would be revealed and exciting new worlds opened up.

He put off thinking about what had happened: he wanted his breakfast and dressed quickly before hurrying down to the Great Hall.

The hall was about two thirds full, and the tea and coffee pots had just appeared when the terrific Alarm clangour started, and with it that awful shrill, penetrating female voice: All students to the common room . . . All students to the common room . . . All students to the common room . . .

There were bemused looks: someone had broken a curfew that was currently not applicable.

It was impossible, though, not to obey the strident summons, and the staff did not intervene to prevent them filing out.

They assembled in the common room, where Snape took the roll.

"Everyone present," said Snape, in the tones of a naturally irritable man denied his breakfast, "You will be aware that the Exit Alarm has malfunctioned. The malfunction appears to have originated in Ravenclaw. It may be that it is as a result of interference, in which case the students responsible will be caught and punished."

Snape sounded as though a Cruciatus would be the mildest of the punishments if he had his way.

"Now, proceed in an orderly manner to the Hall."

With Snape leading the way, it was impossible not to be orderly.

Down in the Great Hall, the smell of bacon was everywhere.

The vanguard had just got a first mouthful, and the last to arrive were nearing the door when:

Clang! . . . Buzz! . . . Thump! . . . All students to the common room . . . All students to the common room . . . All students to the common room . . .

Once more, they crawled down to the common room.

Snape had stayed behind with the rest of the staff, and Miles took the roll.

Then they heard Professor Dumbledore's voice: Return to the Hall, please.

Back they trooped, and when everyone was seated, the Headmaster addressed them:

"Boys and girls: you must be aware that there are powers attempting to attack Hogwarts. The curfew measures that we have imposed are there for the protection of the school and everyone in it.

"It seems that one of these measures has been falsely invoked in a particularly cunning way, and however much we may deplore the disgraceful actions of the students responsible, we must wryly give them respect for their ingenuity.

"Without a full investigation that might take weeks, and waste everybody's time, we have no choice but the disablement of the Exit Alarm."

There were shiftings of bodies, exchanged glances, and a sense of satisfaction around the hall.

"The staff discussed the imposition of more Draconian, less get-attable charms," continued the Professor, "But, by a majority, decided that it would be unjust to ask our students to live in just the sort of Police State that Voldemort would wish to impose.

"I would ask you, though, to look after yourselves and others; to exercise constant vigilance; and to report anything unusual—anything at all, no matter how seemingly insignificant—to a member of staff.

"Now enjoy your rather cold breakfasts."

There was a buzz of conversation—muted because mouths were being crammed.

Don't fret, Papyrus thought Lachlan, You're not redundant!

X

During the long free period before lunch, Lachlan sat in the library with The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 opened in front of him.

But his eyes were not focused on the book; he was consolidating the new concepts that had been introduced to him, the chief of which was gayness.

He thought how slow-witted he had been not to pick it up before last night's meeting: as recently as Thursday, he had been told the truth by means of the metaphor of the Cornish pasty. These tough miners would shag their fellow workers' mouths and bums during the day before returning home to shag their wives' fannies.

No, that couldn't be right: David Young had said it was a metaphor for life—males for when you're young, and then females.

Perhaps that was the normal way to arrange your life. Perhaps everyone started gay.

Again, that couldn't be right: it was clear that the majority of boys at Hogwarts were interested in girls.

He thought about kissing girls and shagging their fannies. Each seemed equally revolting; moreover, he couldn't see himself ever changing that view no matter how old he got. He would never, ever, want to touch those silly tit things, or those round, blobby bottoms.

He shuddered and put the revolting thought out of his mind.

It was a funny thing, though: Christopher Clark had a round, blobby bottom, but it was still attractive. Lachlan thought about touching it; feeling it; pulling the cheeks apart to reveal Clark's bumhole.

He thought about kissing boys, picking the prettiest he could think of: Colin Creevey.

That was quite acceptable, as was the thought of doing these dirty things to Colin: sticking his dicky into Colin's arsehole; pressing it between Colin's beautiful lips.

Suddenly his dicky was hard.

He recollected how pleasant it had seemed when Colin was leaning against him as they were spying on Ayling and Gunning.

His brain jolted: Colin had been hard all the time, as they crouched in the corridor.

He recalled the surprise of realising that his own dicky had been going hard for years without him noticing.

And now he'd done it again! He simply hadn't noticed that other people's dickies had been hard sometimes.

That time he'd been rolling about with Mac and the twins, Mac had been hard. He'd felt the lump through six layers of clothing.

And Campbell: wasn't something tiny pressing through the PE kit?

And before that, weren't the Muggle wrestlers always getting hard?

Were they getting hard because of him?

Was he pretty like Colin?

He thought about physical closeness with Morgan. The Welsh boy's hand had felt good on his bottom.

He thought of kissing that ugly face, or sticking his willy in it.

He wasn't repelled: he must be Gay!

He pushed himself one stage further: What if Morgan asked him to suck his dicky?

He could manage without being sick; and think how much nicer it would be if they were friends.

There was another jolt: Morgan must have liked Lachlan's bottom to leave his hand on it so long.

Morgan was gay!

And Zabini; and all the other boys who had touched his bottom over the years.

Morgan had said he was a bit of alright. That was his way of telling Lachlan he was gay and he fancied him.

And watching people poo; and enjoying his own pooing, as though another boy's dicky was stretching his poohole.

With an upwelling of joy he said to himself: I'm gay! I'm gay!

He felt as though he'd found himself after all those years.

He would tell his friends; and Lee Shepherd, who was his first friend, would be his best friend—even though Lee was in love with another boy.

For a moment he regretted having moved out of the dorm. He had scarcely noticed the dickies and bottoms of his four companions. He would have noticed now! What fun it would have been.

He thought of another aspect: he had established in his own mind that good looks were not essential for sexual attractiveness, but maybe there was another factor: when he had thought of kissing and concentrated on the prettiest boy, it was Colin Creevey who had come to mind.

Yet the prettiest boys were undoubtedly the MacKenzie twins.

Why had his mind automatically selected Colin?

Was it because he knew that Colin could shoot out semen with the wonderful feeling of pleasure called an orgasm?

Were younger boys meant to desire older boys? And older boys to desire younger ones? And how similar or different were the two desires?

He suddenly had a blissful vision of the future: days, weeks, months, years discovering the secrets of gay sex.

"Heaven on earth!" he said out loud,

"Ssh!" said Madam Pince.

X

After lunch he went for a poo—his first since he had learnt that arseholes were officially for pleasure as well as business.

As he held things delightfully in suspension, he wondered whose dicky he would most like to be stretching him.

The trouble was that he had only seen two hard dickies apart from his own, and they were at a distance.

He supposed that size mattered: too big, and it might hurt too much; too small, and it might not stretch the arsehole enough.

But David Ward had said that when any two gay boys got together, they could get pleasure from bumming.

Bumming. That was a nice word.

Can I bum you? He decided that such approaches were best made in private, and after preliminaries had established mutual attraction.

He thought of Bumming as he released his load into the pan.

Then he went to find Lee Shepherd, eventually spotting him on the lawn.

It had been dry, and Lee was sitting with the other boy—the James that Lee was in love with—and the two girls.

He went up to them and sat down next to Lee, saying: "Hello Lee; how's it going?"

"Hi Tibby," said Lee, "This is James Buckley, and these are . . ."

Lachlan didn't bother listening. Who cared what girls, apart from Nicola Swan, were called.

Lachlan said; "I'm here to give you comfort, support and love; an occasional kiss helps too."

He turned to Lee and pecked him on the lips.

The girls tittered, and James said What?

Lee blushed, and said: "Thank you, Tibby, but I don't need anything."

"Of course you do," said Tibby, "We were talking about it at JIGS last night."

The girls tittered again.

"You were talking about me?" said Lee, sounding alarmed.

"Not about you," said Lachlan, "I don't shoot my mouth off. About things in general."

"Tibby, or whatever your name is," said James, "Why don't you clear off? We were enjoying ourselves until you turned up."

"Okay," said Tibby, getting to his feet, "But honestly James, you were a Jigger as well as Lee, and you should understand these things better."

"We went to JIGS to support gay boys," said James, "And we supported them all year. And we still support them. And we're not gay."

"My guess is that Lee went to JIGS looking for romance, and you went looking for sex. That makes both of you gay as far as I'm concerned. See you later."

He left what sounded like a viper's nest.

He was half way to the door, having swerved two or three times to avoid girls who wanted to talk to him, when he was brought crashing to the ground.

At first, he thought that a furious James Buckley had attacked him, but a pair of treble voices calling Tibby! told him that he had been ambushed by the MacKenzie twins.

"You went to a gay group . . ." said one twin.

". . . Without knowing what gay meant," said the other.

"I'm a twit, I know," shouted Lachlan, "I thought I was going to protect little weeds like you!"

He deftly pulled one twin down, and tried to pin him to the ground, while pulling at the other one.

It felt good rolling about the ground with these two beauties.

He quite often had a grip on one bum or the other.

The bums felt miraculous in their tiny, hard perfection.

He hadn't dared grope between their legs.

The bell went.

"We've got Transfig with Tibby . . ."

". . . And Charms with Tibby."

They ran into their lessons.

Lachlan wondered why his dicky wasn't—why he didn't have the horn: he'd certainly had at least a semi when he was with Lee.

Perhaps it was just the exercise; or perhaps he didn't think of the twins that way. That fitted in with his theory that young gay boys were naturally attracted to older boys.

In the classroom he smiled at the three Hufflepuff Jiggers. In immediate refutation of his theory, he got the horn.

He decided that bespectacled Nathan and chinky Scott were lovely, but David Mason was a real—what was that word? —sexpot.

"Tibbs," said Professor McGonagall, "If you sit there with your mouth so gormlessly open, I shall have to ask you to sew it up, should you by some miracle manage to turn your match into a needle."

X

After dinner, lots of the boys went to the Quidditch practice area, but Lachlan decided to go and look for Lee Shepherd.

"Sour grapes," said Clark.

Lachlan fetched a book, just in case, and dumped the Mills and Boon trash on the table by the notice board.

Winter had been wandering through the Resi section with a magazine called Wildlife Wanding.

Going to drool over pictures of dead animals with Baddock, he supposed.

He didn't find Lee, but he found the MacKenzie twins.

They went down by the lake and played Semi-Intelligent Marbles.

They gathered a crowd of spectators.

He supposed the twins must be used to it: their beauty seemed a heart-breaking promise of something that could never be achieved.

Then a third-year Hufflepuff girl said: "Hello Tibby!"

Some of the other girls tittered.

Oh No! It must be his dicky. The news must have leeched out of Slytherin into the other houses.

He ignored the girl—didn't even look at her.

But when an older boy's voice said: "Good shot, Tibby!" he couldn't resist a quick glance. It was a Ravenclaw fifth-year—a tall, mousey-haired, pale-faced, good-looking boy with an intelligent, open expression.

"You're a good judge of a marble all of a sudden, Mike," said the voice of another older boy.

"Coming out of his shell," said a girl's voice, and there was the usual silly tittering.

"You'll be talking to Creevey next, Mike," said the older boy.

There was more general laughter.

"Oh, come on!" said Lachlan, "I can't play marbles surrounded by morons."

"Let's go to the Middle Courtyard," said a twin.

They gathered up the marbles and set off quickly.

"Why were they teasing you?" asked a twin.

"Was it because of that JIGS mistake you made?" asked the other.

"Probably."

"Nathan Kirton said you were going to keep on going to JIGS, even though you'd learnt what it was about."

"Yes."

"We really admire you for that."

Lachlan laughed: "Well you can stop admiring me. It's not just kindness. As soon as I learnt what gay really meant—you know, boys liking boys—I decided I was gay."

"Wow!" said the twins.

"You mustn't mind too much," said Lachlan.

"We don't mind at all," said a twin.

"Not in the least. Why should you think we would?" said the other twin.

"You didn't go to JIGS," said Lachlan so I wondered whether you were anti-gay; some people are, apparently."

The twins laughed:

"You are a silly!" said one.

"Here we are," said the other.

The Middle Courtyard was packed with students playing all sorts of games.

They found an area and had a proper game of Semi-Intelligent Marbles.

There was no room for spectators, thank goodness.

After the game, they went to Hufflepuff, and had milk and biscuits.

Lachlan was delighted with the cheerful common room and its cheerful inhabitants.

A twin told him: "This is the best day of our lives."

"Why?"

"Because we loved being with you."

"You're our first friend."

Friend! It was as though Lachlan had been punched in the stomach.

"F-friend? I went out to ask someone to be my first friend and I didn't find him and I found you and you want to be my friend. Everywhere I go at Hogwarts it seems like Fate's doing things. So let's be first friends."

They shook hands solemnly, then talked about their lessons and teachers.

When Lachlan said he'd have to go, one twin ran through a door and the other whispered: "We've got a special present for you."

"What is it?"

"Wait and see!"

The twin came back with a standard medicine-vial.

A Scottish fourth-year called over: "You don't need that any more, MacKenzie. Dumbledore's switched it off."

"What's he mean?" said the sitting-down twin.

"Don't know; don't care," said the stander, "Here, Tibby; drink this."

Tibby laughed: "Dumbledore also said to exercise constant vigilance and to report anything unusual, so give it here."

The vial contained a pale yellow liquid which exactly matched the colour of the twins' hair. There we lots of tiny blue globules which exactly matched the colour of their eyes.

Lachlan drank it down.

"Now tell me it's poison," he said, "Let me die with my first, last and only friends."

The twins laughed.

"What's my name?" said one.

Lachlan looked at him. A little C picked out in yellow with blue dots appeared in the air above his head.

"Callum!" he said.

He looked at the other twin, saw the little J and called: "Jamie!"

"Good old Grandfather!" said Jamie.

"He made it up before we came here."

"You can only do it once and for one friend."

"And we thought we'd have to wait until we were sure."

"But Grandfather said trust your heart and not your brain."

"And we did."

"And we know we got it right."

"Because only a true friend can see it."

"And you can see it."

The three boys laughed so loudly that the Scottish boy called: "Laughing Potions are banned below sixth-year." Then he laughed himself, as did his little squinty-eyed friend who Lachlan had not noticed before.

Were they bumming each other?

Lachlan got the horn.

Then it really was time to go, and the twins saw him to the door. C and J were only visible when he wanted them to be visible.

"I like Callum; I like Jamie; I like Hufflepuff," he said.

"We like Tibby," they said.

He ran along to Slytherin and got there just before bedtime.

Several people told him that Malfoy wanted to see him.

He ran to Draco's door and knocked.

Goyle opened the door.

"You wanted to see me, Malfoy?"

"What? Oh it's you, Tibbs," drawled Draco, "Run along you two."

Crabbe and Goyle left.

Draco turned to Lachlan: "Honestly, Lachie, I give you a simple job and you fouled it up."

"I'm sorry, I had to think on my feet, Draco; it was the best I could come up with."

"What do you mean the best? You went to a meeting about gays without knowing what gay meant. How dumb is that? Now we've lost our representation on the Jiggie, or whatever it's called."

Lachlan looked shocked: "Oh Draco, I didn't think to tell you about it before. You had Crabbe and Goyle with you, and then there was Quidditch."

"Which you didn't come to watch."

"Not by choice."

"What were you doing then, Lachie?"

"Shall I tell you the whole story?—Oh, but it's after bedtime."

"Forget bedtime. Speak."

"Well, I got to the JIGS meeting and I saw at once that it was hopeless. They probably wouldn't have trusted a Slytherin anyway, but apparently last year we sent a right pair of duds who got themselves thoroughly distrusted.

"That meant that if there was anything objectionable going on I'd be kept in the dark, which was letting you and Slytherin down.

"My first thought was to pretend that I was a genuine gay, not a bleeding-heart do-gooder; but that's what last year's pair did, so they'd think it was the same all over again; besides it's a difficult thing to prove.

"So I came up with the story that I'd misunderstood what gay meant. How they laughed!

"Then they explained what gay really was and I was all shocked and how could boys do those horrible things? Then as they went on explaining what gay meant I was letting slip that I didn't like girls, and boys were cool.

"In the end, they must have thought I was gay but wasn't admitting it—not to them and maybe not to myself; and we ended up that I would go on coming to JIGS, even though I wasn't gay; and they must have been laughing up their sleeves at me."

"Lachie, you're a true Slytherin."

"Proud to hear that, coming from you, Draco."

"And what about tonight?"

"I thought about it today and said to myself: what would a real gay boy do? And I decided I'd go after the prettiest boy. It's two of them—twins in Hufflepuff. So I spent the evening with them tonight and ended up best friends. And they didn't go to JIGS, but the other three did, and they must have thought I was after the twins' arseholes, which they, being gay, would've liked to do themselves, so they must think I'm a stupid gay boy and not a threat from Slytherin."

"Then I'll let on that I think I'm gay, though I'm not. And it's all absolutely secret. I've kept up the pretence even in our house. As that old boy said today: constant vigilance. There's nobody knows but me and you."

"You've done excellently, Lachie."

"You say that, Draco, but so far I get the impression that they're just a bunch of nerds in JIGS, so it may not be important at all. But at least we've got a man in, and when I've sussed out if there's Mudblood presence, I'll be able to report back to you and take instruction."

Draco was looking at his smuggest.

"This is good," he said, "You'd better go to bed now."

"Thank you Draco; though may I ask a question?"

"Of course, Lachie?"

"Do you think there are any real gays in Slytherin?"

"We don't think it's important."

"I had one boy in particular in mind."

Draco's face was mask-like as he asked: "Who is that?"

"I was wondering about our Captain of House."

Draco laughed. Was it a laugh of relief?

"You must have seen him going into a toilet cubicle with Cadwallader," he said, "Well, Lachie, Miles is a rock-solid Slytherin; a true campaigner for blood purity. We all think nothing of his little weakness, if weakness it is. Let me assure you that using another boy's hand to relieve stress has nothing to do with gayness: Miles is definitely not gay.

"I understand now," said Lachlan, "Thanks, Draco."

He got up, but before he could leave, Draco said: "Oh, there's one more thing, Lachie: I saw you sitting with the Mudblood Creevey and his weird friends yesterday."

Lachlan laughed: "That was just a bit of homework, Draco: when they said we're not allowed out of our rooms at night, I thought bugger that, and I slipped out and wandered round the corridors. I met Creevey, and said hello, very friendly and came back here. Then I say him watching the Chins and was friendly again. I learnt that Harris cribbed his Charms homework and thought of tipping off Flitwick—I wonder what his blood is—and then decided to wait until I've got something more serious—an expulsion issue. Obviously, Creevey's the main target."

Draco was smiling.

Lachlan yawned: he didn't want Draco to ask how he got out in the middle of the night, but Draco did just that, and answered his own question:

"How did you get out? Never went to bed at all I suppose. Did you see anyone else?"

Lachlan yawned again, and said: "No Draco."

"Off you go then young 'un; get a good night's sleep."

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Tibbs."

Lachlan was genuinely sleepy; too sleepy to think about Malfoy.

He fell asleep clutching Mountjoy, and thinking; I've got two FRIENDS . . . I've got two FRIENDS.

X

Lachlan woke at seven and thought about gayness.

He was dubious about Draco's portrayal of Miles, the former SSK. Going into a lavatory to get wanked by another boy sounded pretty gay to Lachlan.

On the other hand, Miles had a man's body, and Lachlan didn't know what urges men were subject to.

Perhaps Miles kept his eyes closed and pretended Cadwallader's hand was a fanny.

Yuch! He resolved to try and stop thinking about fannies.

He turned his mind to Draco.

Conscious of the events at Malfoy Manor long ago, Lachlan had been almost expecting Draco to show himself as gay.

But there had been no evidence beyond the fact that Draco's eyes seemed often to focus on boy's genital areas rather than their faces—but only big boys: he didn't seem to be interested in the juniors.

But, hold on: the night before, Draco had flashed quite a few glances at one junior: he seemed unable to stop himself eying Lachlan's dicky-area.

He must have heard the rumours about Lachlan's Hippogriff-sized penis. Perhaps he was interested in big dickies.

And at the football game on Sunday, Lachlan's own gaze had been drawn to the eye-catching bump in the shorts of the enigmatic Mr Fay.

Had that been Draco's reason for standing there?

Then there was a sort of QED: Draco and Lachlan had played sex-games together; Lachlan had grown up gay; therefore Draco had probably grown up gay.

More: Draco had been the keener of the two, sometimes showing a desperate urge; therefore Draco had possibly grown up gayer than Lachlan.

He considered the attractiveness of Draco: he was still nice-looking with lithe movements. If Lachlan had to finger his bottom or suck his dicky to keep in his good books, it wouldn't be a disaster, though Colin Creevey would be preferable.

But it was the thought of Mr Fay's bump that occupied Lachlan's mind as he gave Mountjoy an invigorating morning wank, before getting up and going down to breakfast.

It was double Transfiguration first thing.

He greeted the twins by name as they queued outside.

They were better than him at the subject, so he worked with intense concentration, and Crusher did him proud, earning a Not bad, Tibbs from Professor McGonagall at the end of the lesson.

At break, he and the twins got their milk and went to find Lee Shepherd.

Lee was standing with James Buckley by the big beech tree.

Lachlan led the twins there and introduced everybody.

"I suppose you're happy, Tibbs," said James, "To have cost me and Lee a good pair of girlfriends."

James, with his dark, sparkly eyes, was attractive even when he was grumpy.

"Lee doesn't want a girlfriend," said Lachlan, "Never wanted a girlfriend; never will want a girlfriend. It was your bullying. You just used your status as his boyfriend to make him do what you wanted."

"That's not true, is it Lee?" said James.

"No . . . yes it is! It was all great until the holiday thing. And you stopped bossing me about when Danny Jorrocks told you off; but then, when you met girls on holiday, I had to be interested too; and I'm not; I'm never going to talk to any girl again."

James took hold of Lee's hand: "Oh Lee . . . shit! . . . I'm sorry. . . I'm not ready for girls, anyway. Let's just be like before."

"It's all money," said Lee, "If I'd had the money to go on that holiday, you'd never have let yourself be talked into going out with girls."

The bell went.

"Who've you got now," asked Lachlan.

"Snape," said James.

"Bloody hell, James, said Lachlan, "Can't you let Lee answer now and then?"

Lachlan had met dominators like Buckley at Muggle school."

"It's Snape!" said Lee, "So there, James Buckley!"

Lee and James walked back to the castle, while Lachlan walked some of the way to the greenhouses with the twins.

"Sorry Callum and Jamie," he said, "I thought it would be just a friendly chat, but I hate bullying, and I hate to see helpless creatures suffering."

"Tell us about them this evening," said Jamie.

"We'll find somewhere just for a chat," said Callum.

"Not this evening," said Lachlan, "I've got a Slytherin meeting."

"Tomorrow, then," said Jamie.

"It's a date, friends!" shouted Lachlan, running off.

"Friends! . . . Friends!" echoed after him, as he scampered towards Professor Slughorn's class.

X

Lachlan spent every spare moment catching up with his work, and approached Study Room 1 at one minute to seven with a clear conscience.

The others were sitting round the big table.

Zabini rose and shook Lachlan's hand.

He introduced him to Harper, Winter and Baddock, even though Lachlan knew them already.

He gave a boring pep-talk about the history and traditions of Slytherin, and how the Slytherin Secret had been passed down for a thousand years from Salazar Slytherin himself.

The induction ceremony was a bit of a let-down.

The four members placed their wands on Lachlan's forehead and intoned:

In secretum Slidderungi unum sumus

Then Lachlan touched his own wand to his forehead and the five of them intoned:

Et nos in secretum Slidderungi unum sumus

And that was it.

There were more hand-shakings.

Zabini explained that the Secret of Salazar Slytherin took the form of a poem that each of the SSK's recited at their weekly meeting.

They sat round a table and Zabini recited some doggerel:

Six Rings for the Boy-Keepers crouching below,

Five to be stretched by a Fellow-Keeper's Bone,

Three to be filled by the Keeper's flow,

One for the Dark Lord's Wand of Stone

In the House of Salazar where Wand is safe from harmers.

One Ring for seven blows, One Ring where the fire is,

One Ring to show the jewel, One Ring's "Veni Osiris"

In the House of Salazar He shall cry "Confusiarmus"

In turn, Harper, Winter and Baddock, recited, followed by Lachlan, reading from a card.

"And that is the Secret of Salazar Slytherin," said Zabini, "Only we five in the whole world know the secret. At no time in the last millennium have more than six boys known it."

"Do we know what it means?" asked Lachlan.

"No, our rôle is solely to keep the Secret."

"Presumably, one day, one of the boys will get to use the Secret to actually do something; or it could be the Dark Lord. Would that be our Dark Lord?"

"We don't know, Tibbs."

"And are we allowed to discuss it?"

"I don't see why not, provided no-one but Slytherin Secret Keepers can hear. The Secret is very well-protected, anyway: if someone had been listening at the door, for example, we would not have been able to recite.

"The Protection on the Secret is total: no Torture, Probe, Confundus or Imperius can extract it from our minds. Even if we were killed and made inferi, the Secret would be safe."

"As a new member, am I allowed to discuss it now?"

"Yes, Tibbs."

"Then, first of all, I think everyone in this room is gay."

"Nonsense, Tibbs!" said Zabini.

"Well I am!" said Harper.

"And I also think every SSK there's ever been has been gay," continued Lachlan.

Zabini sneered: "I heard that you went to that gay meeting without knowing what being gay meant, Tibbs. You're hardly in a position to fling out such accusations against others."

"I was missing a few words and concepts, Zabini. Once I'd got things straight, I decided that I was totally gay and would always be totally gay. I've been officially gay since twelve fifteen yesterday.

"I've been doing some research: there was an SSK called Adrian Pucey who left last term. He had a boyfriend called Virion White.

"Your predecessor as Senior SSK, Zabini, was Miles. He frequently gets together with Owen Cadwallader of Hufflepuff. They meet in a lavatory cubicle and wank each other off.

"The SSK who left last year, Hudson, was a leading member of the JIGS group, renowned for his prowess at Quidditch and sex with other boys."

Lachlan was unscrupulous in producing falsehoods which could not be disproven.

"Within the present room, Winter and Baddock frequently disappear into the rough for some shooting; and when Pritchard's down the Quidditch field, Winter's in with Baddock reading a mag called Wildlife Wanding. I bet your wands get up to some pretty wild life, boys."

Baddock laughed his head off.

"Caught!" he said, "Twice in four days we've been caught, Chris!"

"Still safe," said Winter.

"True," said Baddock, laughing even more, "That just leaves you, Zab. Where have you been sticking your naughty little tadger? Don't tell us you've been entertaining Wayne Hopkins in your Butler's Pantry?"

Winter and Harper laughed uproariously.

Baddock continued: "I should explain, Tibby, that Wayne is like yourself famous for the prodigious size of his wand, as you so delicately put it. So come on, Zab: own up; tell all."

"There's nothing to tell," said Zabini, remarkably cool under pressure.

"Come off it, Zab," said Harper, "The remarkable Tibbikins has put a remarkably strong case."

"Then I'm an exception," said Zabini.

"Come off it! One exception in a thousand years."

"I suppose the Election process might have picked up some stray thoughts I had at eleven."

"And then you picked up some stray tarts after eleven," roared Baddock.

The three lads were having a dragon of a time demolishing the snooty Zabini, and Lachlan loved it.

"Get this once and for all," snapped Zabini, losing it a little now, "I have never touched a boy or man in my life!"

"Ooh, you big fibber!" laughed Lachlan, "You touched my bottom on Saturday night."

"I reverse-tagged you on the part of your body nearest to me, which happened to be next to your bottom."

"And left your hand on it."

"That was just being friendly to our new SSK."

"For twenty seconds; with squeezes to emphasise points. If I'd known about being gay then, I'd've dropped my undies to make it easier for you."

"Poor old Zab!" laughed Harper, "Forty-eight hours too early for Heaven!"

"Anyway," continued Lachlan, "There's the evidence of the rhyme."

"What evidence?" asked Zabini.

"Six Rings for the Boy-Keepers crouching below That's the six arseholes of the six SSK's. Five to be stretched by a Fellow-Keeper's Bone That's called bumming. I learned about that on Sunday. Five of the SSK's stretch one of their mate's arseholes with their bone. That must be their erection, or stiffie, or the horn. Three to be filled by the Keeper's flow That means that three of the SSK's are old enough to produce a flow of creamy, sticky fluid called semen. So dear old Salazar set up his election process so that only boys who liked bumming each other could be SSK's. It seems totally conclusive to me.

"But what I can't understand, Zabini, is why you're so worried about people knowing. I mean, being gay is accepted at Hogwarts now; there's JIGS; there's a Gay Society; there's married boys; there's no end of open boyfriends."

"I can answer that, Tibby," said Baddock, "It was only last year that it happened. Before that, it was taboo to talk about it let alone do it. A boy called Danny Jorrocks changed things."

"Yeah I heard about him," said Lachlan.

"But there's still a lot of people against it," Continued Baddock, "Specially in Slytherin. Harper and Pucey had the courage to go public. It helped that they were—and Harper still is—SSK's, and Quidditch stars, and have rich, influential parents, but me and Chris are keeping it quiet because, though we're SSK's, we're not stars in the house and we don't want to upset our much humbler parents.

"Well, Zab, you've lived through the bad days longer than us, so I guess you've been conditioned to repress it. But you are a star in the house, and I'd guess your glamorous mother wouldn't mind the extra exotic touch of having a gay son, so I don't see why you have to keep it secret any more."

Zabini said nothing. He was blushing slightly.

"I don't think you're being fair, Baddock," said Lachlan, "If Zabini, or Winter, or you want to keep it quiet that's none of anyone else's business. But within these walls, we are five gay boys bound by an ancient secret, and we have no reason to hide any secrets at all from one another."

"I declare the meeting closed," said Zabini.

"Good," said Lachlan. "I've been itching to cheer up Zab for the last ten minutes."

He got up and stood in front of Zabini.

"Locked room," he said, "Feel my bum please."

"I . . . er."

Zabini was blushing.

"Come on; there's four of us in he room, and none of us will tell."

Zabini reached out and laid a hand on Lachlan's bum.

"Under the robe, please."

Lachlan pulled the back of his robe up and Zabini replaced his hand.

"Slip it inside my pants, please . . . both hands please."

For thirty seconds, Zabini played with Lachlan's bottom. It felt great having someone else doing it. He would have preferred it not to have been Zabini, but felt so sorry for someone who'd had to bottle it up for so long, and had only dared seek his pleasure in furtive gropes disguised as accidents.

"Do we all get a go, Tibbs?" said Harper.

"Not today," said Lachlan; then to Zabini: "That's enough."

"Do we get a look at the front?" asked Harper.

"No, Zab's given me the horn, and I'm not showing that to anyone yet."

"Was it nice, Zab?" Harper was saying as Lachlan left the room.

He ran out of Slytherin and sent an owl to his mother:

Dear Mummy,

I am gay. Mr Williams will tell you what that means.

Please send a pair of binoculars.

With love from Lachlan Tibbs (Tibby)

Mr Williams was the Muggle butler. He had sometimes referred to one or other of his master's guests as One of Them. Lachlan now knew what he meant.

He ran to Hufflepuff and found the twins in.

It was ten minutes to bedtime.

They sat in the common room and Callum told him: "You lied to us."

"I did not!" said Lachlan.

"You said you were teased because of the gay thing . . ." said Jamie.

". . . And it was really because you've got a big, big . . ."

". . . big, big cock."

"That's not a lie; that was changing the subject."

"Promise never to change the subject again, said Callum.

"Tomorrow," said Lachlan. I just came over to give you a quick message, and you can think about it and we'll talk tomorrow."

"What's the message?" asked Jamie.

"I've just had a big boy stroking my naked bottom. It was nice. I'm ready to start doing sex and romance. I know you're not gay, but let me know if you want to be first to do anything with me, and I'll save it for you."

The twins had tears of laughter.

"What's so funny?" asked Callum.

"Tomorrow!" they said simultaneously.

—CHAPTER ELEVEN— Colin Gives the Commandos a Mission

"He's a fabulous mover, isn't he?"

Sea Jay was watching the mesmerising running of the first-year Lachlan Tibbs, who was playing in a fast game of Lawn Chins.

It was a warm—hot even—autumn day. The sun had dried away yesterday's rain, and much of the school—including most of the younger ones—were sitting, standing, or walking around the lawn.

"I could shag the arse off him all night," said Sea Jay's lifer, Jonathan Neil.

"Same here," said Sea Jay, "Though if he really has got a big one, I might ask him for a bit of variety."

"I bet he's like us, Col," said Dennis, "I bet he got his naughty feelings when he was young. He probably pulled his willy all the time; and stretched it; that's like you too, Col."

"Mrs Neil and me are both well-provided," said Jonathan, "And we didn't get the feelings till third-year."

"I was fourteen," said Sea Jay.

"I remember before that, darling," said Jonny, "You had the cutest little willy, and the smoothest little botty, and I thought it couldn't get better. Then you got your gorgeous, hairy-arse and your bloody great curvy monster and I learnt what perfection was."

"No perfection was and is you, darling" said Sea Jay, "And so considerate to your boyfriend: you kept getting spots on your bum just so that I could kiss them better."

The four boys giggled.

Colin had the horn. A rush of sexual desire came to him.

He looked over to where his Alex was sprawling with the other second-years.

There was a commotion around the field. Tibby had done something good, and lots of little girls were shrieking.

"Sounds as though word of Lachlan's monster has escaped from Slytherin," said Jonny, "He'll get no peace now."

"Not from Caerwen, anyway," laughed Colin, "Peter Jones said Caerwen had the hots for Tibby; and that was before he knew of his membership."

There came a whiff that the four boys recognised as an upwind Seamus.

He had been playing football in the morning and Chins in the afternoon, and probably had a week's unshoweredness behind him.

He was walking with a third-year Gryffindor girl called Natalie McDonald. She was keeping open space between them.

Colin wondered if Seamus would start using toiletries.

He read Seamus' lips, which were saying something like: You'd only have to use your hand.

"Here's the honeymooners!" said Dennis.

James Poxon-Watts had been playing Chins earlier, and had subsequently retired with Adam Watts-Poxon to partake of refreshment in Married Quarters.

Now, they were walking around the field.

"Marriage seems to fill everyone's balls," said Colin.

"And everyone's bumhole," giggled Dennis.

"And everyone's soul," said Sea Jay, who was probably the most romantic boy in the school.

Colin was surprised to see Adam and James out before dinner, but there was a reason.

Adam handed Colin a card, and he read:

Ravenclaw House

Are delighted to offer Mr Colin Creevey and those Gryffindors he deems suitable the opportunity to join the

Nine O'Clock Club

which has been set up to counter the current anti-sex legislation and the difficulties faced by Hufflepuff House's Six O'Clock club.

The Club will operate seven days a week.

Club Premises hold two medium-size beds, one reserved for established couples and one for couples selected at random.

You may apply to join as an established couple or as an individual member, but not both.

Each Wednesday seven couples and fourteen individuals will be selected at random for the following Sunday to Saturday sessions.

Successful members will not be re-entered until everyone else has been successful in the draw.

The Rota will be posted on each house notice-board at seven o'clock every Wednesday evening. It will be Charmed to be legible only to Members. Within the Membership, confidentiality is not an option, but Members will find themselves unable to reveal any details to non-Members.

Rules of Operation

1. Curfews are not to be broken: Premises are to be occupied from 9.00 PM to 6 AM. Ablutions and drinking water are available.

2. The random couples must share their bed for the night. Further activities are by mutual consent.

3. The two couples must not interact: any interference with the curtain between the beds will result in a CURSE. Sound interaction is inevitable, but jocular or stimulatory comments are by agreement between the beds.

4. Cleaning up is not required as the house-elves have been briefed.

5. The Premises have been Charmed to be sound-proofed and unnoticeable. Any observed external activities are to be treated as confidential.

Acknowledgement is given to the pioneering accomplishments of , -Neil, , -Poxon and .

Also thanks to H. Granger for assistance with Confidentiality Charms.

"That's absolutely brilliant, Adam!" said Colin, "I deem three people suitable."

He passed the card for the others to read.

"Congratulations on a totally ingenious scheme, Adam," said Jonathan.

"Not my scheme, Jonny darling," said Adam, "It's Eddie Carmichael's from start to finish."

"But he's straight," said Sea Jay, "Apart from Tintin."

"Utterly sympathetic, though," said Adam.

"Colin?" said Dennis.

"You and I are an established couple, sweetheart," said Colin, "Alexander will have to wait."

"And Euan," laughed Dennis, "He's as straight and sympathetic as Carmichael."

"Alexander and Euan might like to become random members," said Colin.

"Adam, what's it mean about Hufflepuff House's Six O'Clock club?" asked Jonny.

Adam explained: "Hufflepuff organised the six-to-eight window of opportunity so that every dorm was filled with heaving flesh for every minute. Then the prefects stopped it."

"What, including Merryweather?" asked Jonny.

"Including Merryweather," said Adam.

"That's absolute hypocrisy," said Jonny, "Merryweather can have Twist any time and any place, so it's rotten of him to stamp on everyone else's sex-life."

"It's for a reason," said Adam, "Hufflepuff is already last in winning academic points, and six till eight is prime homework time, which is probably something Dumbledore didn't think of. The prefects patrol the dorms every evening from six until the two-minutes-grace bell sounds."

"Who are Hufflepuff's other prefects, Adam?" asked Sea Jay.

"Ernie Macmillan and Dare Poyner."

"What, Poyner's a prefect?" said Colin, "We've sat in class with him and no-one said anything."

"He's pretty modest about it," said Adam, "But apparently, he's a real stickler when it comes to the dorms. Derek Rath was telling me he hasn't seen so many lavvy cubicles in his life as he's seen in the last week."

"Well, that'll change for Hufflepuff," said Sea Jay, "And for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Bless Eddie Carmichael."

"It's a shame it's no-go on Slytherin," said Jonny, "They're the ones who could really benefit."

"Yeah, we could have done with Adrian," said Colin.

"You've been done by Adrian," giggled Dennis.

"Yeah, it makes my bumhole twitch just remembering it . . . Dennis?"

"Yeah, our romantic night was interrupted, angel. Let's have a romantic five minutes in the Lavs before dinner."

They had to wait for an empty cubicle.

There were sounds indicating several cases of multiple-occupancy

"Anyone want jocular or stimulatory comments?" called Dennis.

X

In the evening, David Ward came back with the three Gryffindor Jiggers.

Colin and Dennis let them have some quiet minutes chatting, then went to join them.

This was a signal for others to gather: last year's Jiggers and some of the prefects: Twist, Kelly and Granger—but not Weasley, who was keeping his head down.

"Nine," said David.

"That's really very good, David," said Hermione, "Any from Slytherin?"

"Lachlan Tibbs," said David, and explained Tibby's misunderstanding.

"It wasn't a misunderstanding at all," said clever Ray.

"How do you work that out?" asked David.

"Tibbs went to a gay meeting thinking that gay meant stupid and worthless. This, in itself was stupid and worthless. So the meeting was about gay meaning stupid and worthless, and he was right all along, so he wasn't stupid and worthless, and the meeting wasn't about gay meaning stupid and worthless. It's a paradox."

"That argument is so gay!" said Dennis.

When the laughter had died, Colin said: "He'll be there next week, David, don't worry."

"Do you think so?" said David.

"He's a gen chap. Even if he's not in the least gayish himself, he's the sort who would fight for others. Slytherin probably think he's there to spy for them, but he's his own boy. Anyway . . . I have a feeling he may be gay after all."

The meeting broke up and Colin went round the common room telling people about the Nine O'Clock club and handing out applications slips.

He noticed that some of those who pooh-poohed the idea, nevertheless retained their slips.

Just before their bedtime, he and Dennis cornered Alexander and Euan, and explained their decision to be established partners.

They renewed their vow to spend the first night possible entertaining the second-years with ghost stories and other diversions.

It had been a long day, full of excitements, and Colin was again not too disappointed to be sleeping alone.

X

Monday morning brought Colin down to earth: attempts to finish of an essay for Snape during Divination and Arithmancy brought reproofs and extra work from Firenze and Professor Vector.

After sacrificing morning breaks, lunch hours and evenings for two days, Colin woke on Wednesday morning feeling perkier.

His mood improved even more when an interesting owl came from Danny:

Darling Brothers,

Hope Beddybyebyes worked.

Getting into alien dorms: we might do it by using Staff Privileges.

Damian will probably be willing to help. We can't make the Entry Charm think that someone else is Damian, but we can make it think that he has Damian's privileges.

Colin, please explain matters to Damian and ask him to keep it secret—even from HP who would want to help & probably already has enough problems to be going on with. Give Damian a vial and ask him to put plenty of semen into it. A couple of days wanking at twice a day should be plenty. Then seal it and hold it in Gryffindor until I arrive.

Next select the naughty boys: it's a powerful Charm, so only the most secure boys should be trusted with it. I suggest the 4 Gryffindor MQ Commandos, David Ward and Derek Rath.

I don't think we should put temptation in Adam's way and I can't think of anyone I'd trust in Slytherin.

The 6 of you should have a vial each and the aim is to get as much variety of bodily productions into it as possible.

Don't wash for at least twenty-four hours and then use the Charm Scourgify ad Ampullam! to transfer the dirt you've accumulated into your vial. You can check it's worked from the smell (each armpit, each foot, willy, scrote, bumhole). Then the usual suspects: snot, spit, earwax, semen (Dennis if you're still running clear, that'll be okay) poo. End up with a splash of piss. Seal it up, label it with your name and I'll hope to collect it this Friday (13th so you can skip any Trelawney lessons you have that day.)

Variety, not quantity, makes for a stronger Charm.

Further strength can be obtained by getting the target (Damian) to help produce your semen.

Other matters can wait.

From your brother Danny.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"It's another mission for the Married Quarters Commandos," said Jonny.

Jonny was sent to Gryffindor to get seven clean vials; then sent upstairs again for an eighth: Colin had come to a decision.

He gathered the four Gryffindor MQ commandos plus supernumerary Ward at the end of the table and gave them an overview.

They thought it sounded good fun, though Jonny wondered why Danny hadn't simply sent them the Potion recipe.

They set off for lessons, but Colin stopped off at Herbology on the way to Care of Magical Creatures.

Damian, as expected was keen to help the boys' sex-lives; and keen to help the boys help themselves.

"I'll go to the potting shed straight after lunch today and tomorrow," he said, "With my strong right arm at the ready."

"I've got such an urge, Damian," said Colin, "Can you spare half a minute now?"

"Make it quick."

They went to the potting shed where Colin pulled out his Stiffie.

"Good lord, Colin! I didn't expect that," said Damian.

He bent to moisten the big purple knob with his mouth.

"Better not," said Colin, "We don't want to contaminate it."

He moistened himself with spit and told Damian: "Get on with it!"

Damian held the vial in one hand, and the penis with the other.

It took less than two-dozen strokes before the milky splashes started to fill up the flask. Colin was a healthy boy, and seventeen hours was a long break between emissions.

Damian was a very attractive man, with a beautiful feel to his hands: soft like a kitten's paw, firm like a chimp's.

"Your willy feels so good, Colin," he said.

He gave the vial to Colin and pulled out his own penis.

Despite being newly-spent, Colin felt the powerful attractiveness of Damian's willy. It was smaller than his own, and with different pigmentation. It had its own uniqueness. But then, thought Colin, as plentiful jets hit Damian's vial, so did every willy.

"It can't hurt now," Colin said, and bent to suck out the last dribbles.

"That wasn't in the script," said Damian.

"Mmm," said Colin, trying to retain the savour.

As they walked along the path, Professor Sprout called: "Damian, you can let them in now. Good morning, Colin."

She was a good sport, Professor Sprout; didn't think of querying the presence in her potting shed of her assistant and a pretty fifth-year.

It was Gryffindor and Hufflepuff second-years.

Alexander and his classmates cheered him. The Hufflepuff boys smiled and waved, except for Tintin who was giving Damian a cock-struck look.

Colin saw that Buckley and Shepherd were holding hands. That was so sweet. He remembered Sea Jay at the wedding: but it's so beautiful: young love.

That beautiful thought had gained Sea Jay a husband.

The girls were tittering and saying things, but Colin ignored them.

All the way to Hagrid's he was thinking: That man's shagged Harry Potter. That willy's been up Harry Potter.

Hagrid, big and with a frightening appearance, told him: "Been up to some mischief, Colin, I'll bet," and reprised the bit of the lesson he'd missed.

Gentle Giant, thought Colin—or was that not Politically Correct?

In the course of the lesson, Colin managed to brief Derek Rath, who, announcing that he was carrying a cargo of bogies, started things off in his vial with a little nose-picking.

X

At break he found Tibby, who was talking to the beautiful Mackenzie twins.

"Hi Colin," said Tibby, "Have you met Callum and Jamie? They're my friends."

Colin shook hands with each boy.

"Friendship's wonderful, isn't it?" he said.

Yes said each boy solemnly.

"Tibby, could I have a private word?" asked Colin.

"Yes," said Tibby; then to the twins: "Excuse us: it's just one gay boy with another."

They walked to a more remote area of the lawn.

"Are you really gay?" asked Colin.

"Really and truly. Callum and Jamie aren't, though."

"I knew you were gay. Wardy told us about your confusion with the word, but I thought once you learnt what it meant, you'd find your inner self."

"You were right, though, being in Slytherin, there's bluffs, and bluffs within bluffs."

"I understand."

"I think you do. You've got lots of friends, Colin. Have you room for one more?"

"Yes, let's be friends."

The two boys shook hands, causing a cheeping of excitement among the girls (and a few boys) who were edging nearer.

"I get horrid chafing at the knees," said Colin, in a loud voice.

"I know just what you mean," said Tibby.

This sent their admirers into a state of quiet hysteria, so Colin and Tibby set off at a smart pace walking in wide circles.

"I felt you were a friend before today," said Colin, "So I've come to invite you to join me and a few of my friends in a scheme we've got."

"My answer's yes," laughed Tibby, "Yes blind."

"What it is, is a way to get into every dorm in the school; every house, even. It's been devised by my brother, Danny Jorrocks."

"I've heard about him. What do you mean brother? Literally? Has your mother been married twice?"

"No; me and my brother Dennis loved him so much that we adopted him. He didn't have a brother of his own."

"I wish I had a brother."

"Perhaps you and your twins could be brothers; Danny's got two twins who are his sons."

"Wow! How does that work out?"

"I'm getting side-tracked. I could talk about Danny for ever. Let me tell you the plan . . ."

Colin explained matters to Tibby and gave him his vial.

"Will it matter that I can't do the thing where it shoots out your dicky? I can get the wonderful feeling of pleasure, but no creamy sticky stuff yet."

"I don't know if it'll matter, but let's get your vial ready anyway."

"Okay."

"And I don't know if Danny will approve you."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."

"You'd better run. Come to Gryffindor straight after dinner, and get your photo taken."

"Is that part of it?"

"Yeah. See yer, friend"

"See yer, friend"

Tibby ran towards Herbology, and Tibby walked quickly towards the library.

After lunch, Colin was strolling with Alexander around the lawn, when Michael Weeks approached him.

Colin had shared classes—Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic—with Michael since his first day at Hogwarts.

He was a good-looking boy—second only to the ravishing Adam among Ravenclaw fifth-years.

He'd always been a fun-loving boy, popular in his house, having a set of friends from all houses, though often unavailable to them due to his scholastic work-ethic and Quidditch gifts.

He was always squiring one or two girls—the girls all loved his pale face, with its frank, intelligent look, and a tantalising touch of rodent.

His light brown hair could take on the appearance of whiteness in sunlight.

Colin liked him a lot, but they had never been close.

"Can I have a word, Colin?"

Colin wondered: am I sex-mad?

Michael might have been going to ask about school-work, but that was unlikely, given that Ray and others were far better sources of wisdom than Colin.

So what could it be but sex—gay sex at that, since Michael knew that Colin had nothing to do with girls in thought, word or deed.

But was it possible?

It was possible.

"Colin," said Michael, "I'm in love."

Whoomph!

Colin realised it was the Golden Glow striking again.

"Oh yes?" he said brightly.

"I've got to talk to you. I can't bottle it up."

"We'll always be friends, Michael."

"I know, and when I saw that you were friends with him, I knew that I had to talk to you about it."

"Friends with whom?"

"Tibby, of course."

"But Michael, you've always been a bit of a womaniser."

"I know I have; but I've always sort of . . . fancied the little boys as well. But it was all theoretical; they were too little. Even after JIGS last year, though I fancied some of them like hell, it was still theoretical.

"And then I saw Him at the Sorting and I knew he was the real thing. And when they were saying he was big, you know, down there, I thought here's a little boy who's sexually mature enough to, you know, and I was totally in love."

"Why don't you talk to him?"

"I did; but there were lots of other people there and they took the piss. I'm going to write him a note."

"Good idea. My little first-year wrote me a note, and that's how we got together."

"But he won't know who I am."

"Oh I see. You want me to photograph you."

"No. He'll know what I look like when I give him the note, but he won't know who I am. I want you to put in a good word for me."

"Well, I can't advise him, but I can tell him what I know about you: You're friendly, honest, and trustworthy and all that. Maybe being the Ravenclaw Keeper will give you that little extra touch of glamour."

"I knew I could rely on you."

All this talk about love and fancying had given Colin a stiffie. He thought what fun it would be to be a first-year boy, with Michael Weeks utterly besotted with you, and to sense his joy when you opened up your body to him.

He wondered what Michael's willy was like: would it be pale and slightly sharp like his face?

He shifted his ideas, and thought what fun it would be to be a fifth-year boy, being bummed by Michael Weeks in the lavatories.

He was on the point of suggesting a visit, when he saw that David Ward was approaching across the lawn.

". . . and his hair's just perfection," Michael was saying.

"I've got business with this fellow, Michael," said Colin,

"I'll write that letter this evening."

"Write it with hope. See you in Herbology."

"See you, Colin."

David reported a successful evacuation of his testicles.

"Mr Fay's dishy close up, isn't he?" he said.

"Yeah."

"I could tell by his touch that he enjoyed doing it. I bet he gets a boyfriend from the students."

"Yeah, probably."

"If Fred and George were here, they'd be running a book on who it was."

Colin withheld the information that Damian already had as a boyfriend the most wonderful student in the school.

"Has Derek been?"

"Yes, and Dennis—but you knew that. When I left, Sea Jay and Jonny were going over together as a respectable married couple should. I've got to run and get my Potions stuff; see yer later."

In Herbology later, Colin glanced every so often at Michael Weeks.

Such a clever, lively, stylish boy; yet what passionate sentiments, what depths of emotion lay underneath that sunny exterior.

They were planting Screechsnap seeds.

Professor Sprout was correcting Sea Jay and Jonathan: "You should always plant your seeds with care and tenderness, not just ram them in any old how."

Was the Professor talking Aesopianly?

You never knew with teachers.

X

After dinner, Colin set up his photographic equipment in his dormitory.

Tibby and Derek turned up and Colin took six photos, entrusting Jonathan to press the button for the seventh.

A little later, Adam brought a sheet of parchment into Gryffindor, and sat down to give the Creeveys a preview.

They read:

THE NINE O'CLOCK CLUB

ROTA W/C 15-IX-1996

ESTABLISHED RANDOM

Sun Ronnie Clack V(H) Harold Holmes VI(H)

Ephraim Chambers VI(R) Martin Murch IV(R)

Mon Colin Creevey V(G) Ritchie Coote VII(G)

Dennis Creevey III(G) Craig Alexander V(R)

Tue Tom Leggatt V(R) Adrian Woodman I(R)

Paul Grindell III(R) Gideon Buchanan II(H)

Wed Peter Jones II(G) Nathan Kirton I(H)

Caerwen Morgan II(R) Christopher Gillies III(G)

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)

Sat Cho Chang VII(R) Johnny Rudd V(H)

Michael Corner VI(R) Alan Campbell I(G)

"We're on twice, Dennis," said Colin.

"Yeah, we've only got five established couples," said Adam, "Though Eddie thinks some randoms will eventually ask to be established."

"You've got some dark horses in Ravenclaw," said Colin, "Who'd have thought it? Ephraim; Grindell; Tom! We've shared classes for four years with Tom. Did you know, Ad?"

"Not a clue," said Adam, "Same with Craigie."

"Yeah; and his partner. I'd never have thought it of Richie."

"It's confidentiality," said Adam, "He wouldn't want Sloper to find out. I expect there's a lot like that: inhibited by shame or shyness up till now."

"Alex and Euan are in," said Dennis.

"Yeah; Gloyne's skinnier even than Alex. And Euan's got that Chinky first-year," said Colin.

"And we'll be listening, Colin," said Dennis, "We'll hear if the Fong dong will ruin Euan."

"Or will Euan's wooin' hit the Scott bot," said Colin.

"Scott's a Jigger," said Adam, "Word is he's got a full pepper-pot."

"Aw, that's nice for Euan," said Dennis.

"And that Gideon Buchanan," said Colin, "He's always telling everyone about the big boys he's been with. He's got a first-year."

"That's the magic of randomness," said Adam.

"I see Chris Gils has joined," said Colin, "I wonder what Jimmy Peakes would say."

"Hold on to your chair," laughed Adam, "Jimmy's joined too."

"Never!"

"Honest."

"But Jimmy! He's always with some girl or other. He's turned down every gay in the school."

"Don't forget the carol," said Dennis, and sang:

Sex time is coming, and the cock is getting fat

Look for a fanny for the funjuice splat

If you haven't got a fanny then an arse'll take your cock

If you haven't got an arsehole wank it in your sock

Adam and Colin laughed.

"I suppose Jimmy spent a summer alone with his socks," said Colin.

"And now he's got Scott," said Dennis, "But just think, Colin: he could have had Danny!"

"And there's more," said Adam, "You'll find this even more amazing . . ."

They discussed the joyous and delicious news about the many unlikely boys who had joined the Club.

"They're probably not in the least Gay, lots of them," said Adam, "They just want a shag; maybe not even that: some of them probably just want a kiss and cuddle."

Colin didn't mention his inside knowledge of Michael Weeks, and the staggering fact that all five of Adam's year were interested, to some extent at least, in other boys.

"How many randoms have you got?" he asked.

"Thirty-two."

"That's brilliant!"

Adam pinned the parchment up.

"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.

Hermione smiled smugly.

Colin went to his bed and put in a good two hours' work on his homework.

On Thursday, he worked even harder, even skipping Games to get an extra hour and a half in.

He had several lessons with Ravenclaw, but no chance to chat to any of the three newly-revealed yearners—just as well really, as he didn't want to compromise Michael Weeks.

Michael looked his normal self: a contented hard-worker.

Tom & Craig looked like the boys next door, though Tom, with his silky shoulder-length hair had something of the Pre-Raphaelite, minus the chin, about him.

For four years they'd been exposed to Adam's wicked ways, catching no apparent strains of the homo urge.

Even Danny had reported failure.

And now. . . .

Friday's homework wasn't too bad: if he could knock off Professor Flitwick's essay, in his last free period, he would have the weekend free for his visitor.

He did just that, though his quill had played up a bit towards the end.

He looked at his conclusion: . . . and it is in this way that Discovery Charms may be viewed as progenitors of Transportation Charms. I thought I'd let you finish, dear beautiful angel. Get our brother. Tell 2 Gryffindor MQC's to meet at 3E in half an hour. Put 2 Ravenclaw MQC's on standby. Then you & Dennis go to 3E straight away with 6 vials.

The last bit was in Danny Jorrocks' handwriting!

—CHAPTER TWELVE— Lachlan Has a Sex-life

On the morning after the SSK meeting, Lachlan noticed some constraint within his classmates at breakfast.

"What's the matter with you all today?" he asked them.

"Nothing, Tibby, said Mac, unconvincingly.

Is it the SSK, or is it because I'm gay?"

"You can't be gay," explained Houlihan, "You didn't know what it meant three days ago."

"And when you found out, you thought it was disgusting," said Ahmad Abu-Arefeh."

"Ah, well, I've changed my mind."

"It's just a silly fashion," said Houlihan. "The Young Wizard's Handbook to Charmers says that boys feel no physical inclinations till they've gone through the Change of Life; yet half the first-years are poncing around saying they're gay."

"They're in the vanguard, Houlihan. Come the Millennium, it'll be quite normal to be gay, and I'll have had four years' practice at saying it when I'm ready to do it."

Lachlan's interrogators changed the subject, which he guessed was due to there being no point in arguing with such an eccentric person.

He wondered why they didn't quiz him about the SSK meeting, and guessed that there was an awe of the keepers of Slytherin's thousand-year-old mystery.

By the end of the day he realised that this awe amounted almost to a holy dread.

His reference to the Millennium might have contributed to that.

At break, he was talking with the twins about the Charms lesson they had shared when Colin Creevey drew him apart and, after mutual declarations of friendship, inducted him into the Commandos' scheme for releasing the Exit Charm and gave him his vial.

It sounded tremendous fun, in a very good cause.

After Herbology, Lachlan raced to Firenze's room and caught the twins emerging.

They each had a double free period and agreed to find an empty classroom and intersperse homework with chat.

As they passed the bogs, the twins barged Lachlan against the door.

Being quite capable of taking a hint, Lachlan was soon having an unneeded pee, with a twin stationed at each of the adjacent urinals.

People were coming and going, so they finished quickly and left.

As they were going up a bewitched staircase for the second time, Callum said: "It really is big, Tibby."

"How much bigger does it get?" asked Jamie.

"When it goes hard?" said Lachlan, "When I get an erection, or stiffie, or the horn? About half as long again; and a bit thicker."

They found a classroom, just as Lachlan remembered 3E too late, and settled down to some serious homework.

Then they told each other about their lives; then some more homework.

Then Callum said: "Tibby, you know you said if we wanted to be the first to do anything with you, you'd save it for us?"

"Yes?"

"Well, we don't give a damn about being first, but we would like to do things with you," said Jamie.

"I thought you weren't gay."

"We're not . . . yet." said Callum.

"Do you know what gay boys do?" asked Jamie.

"Yes," said Lachlan, "I learnt that at JIGS. They wank themselves off together; they wank each other off; they rub themselves against another boy's body; they rub themselves between another boy's thighs: or inside another boy's arsehole; or inside another boy's mouth."

"We do all that," said Callum.

"That's why we didn't need to go to JIGS," said Jamie.

"Is it fun?"

"Yes," said both twins.

"Who do you do it with?"

"Each other," said Jamie.

"Isn't that a bit boring? I mean, you've grown up together, you must know each other's bodies like your own—they are your own really."

"That's what makes it special," said Callum.

"Haven't you ever wanted to smell and taste bits of you that you couldn't reach?" asked Jamie?

"Now you know about gay, wouldn't you like to know that it was your body, doing those things to you?" asked Callum.

"Haven't you ever wanted to watch yourself having a poo?" said Jamie.

"When you've got a twin you can do all that," said Callum.

"You lucky devils," said Lachlan.

"And now we can do it with you—", said Jamie.

"—If you want," said Callum.

"I want," said Lachlan, "But we need to find somewhere safe."

"Yes. The Nine O'Clock Club's got somewhere safe."

"But it doesn't fit."

"What's the Nine O'Clock Club.?" asked Lachlan.

The twins explained it, and Lachlan agreed it didn't fit, though it was an imaginatively rebellious idea, meeting with Lachlan's approval.

Lunch was approaching.

"Let's talk about it tonight," said Jamie.

"Can't," said Lachlan, "I've got to go to Gryffindor and then Astronomy Practical. But I've got a good idea."

"What?"

"I know a safe place outside; the weather's still warm; let's go there Saturday morning."

The date was agreed, and they went to lunch.

X

Lachlan found Gryffindor almost as pleasant as Hufflepuff.

He had his photo taken and walked through the Gryffindor common room.

Alan Campbell waylaid him, and even though he had already seen one dormitory, he willingly agreed to visit Campbell's.

The other Jiggers, Treharne and McKay, rose, and Lachlan expected and hoped for a dick-showing session.

However, the other two first-years, Johnston and Young, rose too, so it was not to be.

He had quite a good time, though: the Gryffindors had lots of little treasures to show him, including Muggle toys and comics which would never have been allowed in Slytherin.

After half an hour, he left and went back home—for despite the attractions of the other houses, that was where he belonged. The Sorting Hat had been right.

There were not many people about.

He went into the first-year dorm, and found Clark lying on his bed with a star-atlas.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

"Down the Quidditch field; where've you been?"

Lachlan sat down on Clark's bed.

"Visiting Gryffindor," he said.

"And sticking your cock in their arseholes and mouths, I suppose, gay boy."

"No. It's not a bad idea, though. I quite like the idea of a cock in my arsehole. It's called getting bummed."

"That really is gay," said Clark.

"No it's not. You heard what Houlihan said: it can't be gay if you feel no physical inclinations. Never mind, I'll find a cock in the next few days."

"I've got one here. I'll do you now if you want."

Lachlan had not previously considered Clark as a possible sex-partner: being fat, ugly, anti-gay and bitchy, he had not the sort of attributes that suggested the rôle.

Lachlan momentarily considered waiting for the twins.

But here was an immediate offer from someone in his own house.

"Move over," he said.

He slipped his knickers off and lay face down.

He heard Clark fumbling about.

Then the bed-curtains were closed, Lachlan's robe was lifted up and Clark was groping his bum.

It felt as good as when Zabini was doing it.

Clark groped him for quite a long time before Lachlan felt his bumcheeks being pulled apart and Clark's dicky prodding his hole.

Then Clark was inside him and rubbing his dicky against Lachlan's poo-tube.

It felt even better than having his bum groped.

Clark was heavy.

"Take your weight on your arms," ordered Lachlan.

That felt better. He could concentrate on what was happening to his bumhole.

It was being pushed to and fro as if he were enjoying a poo, but it went on and on.

Lachlan was enjoying this.

Clark was panting.

He was probably sweating, and Lachlan wished he had made them be naked so he could feel their bodies sliding against each other.

His dicky hadn't gone hard, but he could feel a sort of warm glow that he never felt before.

"Bloody hell!" came a voice.

Someone had drawn back the curtain.

Clark leapt off Lachlan who turned round, hoping to see what Clark's erection looked like.

He was too late: Clark had already covered himself up.

They had been surprised by Ahmad Abu-Arefeh.

Clark was whining: "Don't tell anyone, Abu. He made me do it."

"Don't tell? I'll make sure the whole bloody house hears of it. How dare you bring these filthy practices here?"

"Leave us, Clark," said Lachlan, "Me and Abu need to have a private word."

"Don't think you can frighten me," snapped Abu, "You take one step towards me and I'll run into the common room and tell them what I saw."

"And I'll tell them how you raped me and how brave Clark rescued me," said Lachlan, "And they won't know who to believe, so we'll all be under suspicion, and we'll none of us get any advancement in the house. Leave us, Clark."

Clark left and Lachlan addressed Abu.

"Abu, not only will you keep quiet about this harmless experiment that me and Clark tried tonight, but you will amend your attitude to get rid of all the petty spite that you show so frequently."

"Who are you to order me about?"

"I'm someone who knows all about you and will tell all about you if you ever make trouble again."

"Tell what?" sneered Abu, "I've nothing to hide."

"Not even being Muggle-born?"

"That's a bloody lie!"

"Once the accusation is made, the Ministry will examine you, find that you got yourself Sorted into Slytherin under false pretences, and boot you out of Hogwarts. Your parents will serve a term in Azkaban—quite long if there are Registration irregularities as well. Your only hope is that the accusation is never made."

Abu had deflated.

"How did you find out?"

"I am a Slytherin Special Keeper, which gives me powers that you could not imagine. Now, I'm going for my star-atlas."

He left Abu quivering.

Lachlan felt pleased that his guess had proved true. It was not much of a guess, though: a circumcised boy with an Arab name, who shunned the delicious Hogwarts bacon, cured from wizard-raised swine, was surely a member of that grim Muggle sect which justifies its vile cruelties and hatred of outsiders by the most infantile superstitions.

There was a degree of tension in the Astronomy Tower that night.

X

Next morning, Lachlan had a wank while thinking of a naked Clark bouncing on top of him.

He did it with a finger up his bum, but it wasn't the most comfortable of positions.

At breakfast, a large owl came for him.

It was carrying a package that Lachlan guessed contained a compact pair of binoculars.

There was a letter from his mother:

Dear Lachlan,

I hope these are the right power

If you're really gay, get yourself a rich boyfriend. That bloody Prophet ran a story about your Scholarship. Your Father read it and will no longer dole out for you.

With love from Mummy XXX

Oh, well. Goodbye pocket money.

This wasn't Lachlan's only communication that morning: at break, the pleasant-looking fifth-year who had watched him playing marbles slipped a note into his hand:

Dear Tibby,

I love you.

Would you like to go out with me?

Colin Creevey can tell you about me.

From Michael

He ran after the boy.

"Are you Michael?" he asked.

"Er . . . yes." said the boy.

"Wait for me in the Entrance Hall after lunch."

He ran off to find the twins. They had Snape for their next lesson.

Double Herbology went slowly. He couldn't wait to get his hands on this Michael fellow.

Their eyes met while they were having lunch.

Afterwards, the two boys were in the Entrance Hall.

"Alright?" said Lachlan.

"Yeah."

"I've got somewhere we can go."

"Wh-where?"

"Follow me."

He led Michael up the staircase, amid the hurrying students.

"Wait there," he said, when they had reached the end of the corridor. He wasn't as simple as Wardy: he wasn't going to let anyone else get the password.

Equal Opportunities worked okay, and he called Michael to approach.

They went into Classroom 3E, and Lachlan locked the door behind them.

"Clothes off, this time!" said Lachlan, undoing his robe.

"Wh-what?"

Michael seemed nervous. Merlin's pubes! It was Michael who had done the pursuing.

"Come on! I want to see you in the nude." said Lachlan. He was already in the nude himself by this time.

"Bloody hell!" said Michael.

He was staring at Lachlan's dicky, and fumbling about while trying to remove his clothes.

Lachlan watched Michael doing his unplanned striptease.

More and more pale flesh was revealed until Michael stood naked in front of him.

Michael took a pace forward.

"I love you!" he said, and flung his arms around Lachlan.

"Wait a mo," said Lachlan, stepping back, "I want to look at you."

Michael had not spent much time in the sun that summer: his skin was white and free of spots or freckles.

"You're white as a ghost," said Lachlan.

He took in Michael's dicky. It was white too: a small, thin maggot.

But he had much more important business: he turned Michael round, and after a transient glimpse of the trapezoid, shining-white back, there it was: a genuine big boy's bum.

He suddenly realised that, deep down in his mind, for years and years, he'd wanted to see this.

He wasn't going to hurry: for a long time, he gazed, absorbing every square inch of the surface and every part of the graceful, three dimensional curvature.

Finally, he laid his hands on the skin.

It was smooth—not as smooth as Draco's had been, but still a miracle, despite the presaging from Michael's smooth face.

He played with Michael's bum, working his hands in every way.

To think Michael went about his daily business with this miracle nestling secretly inside his underpants.

Then it was time to uncover the real secret.

He opened Michael's cheeks to reveal a beautiful, wrinkled shape: not quite circular, but elongated vertically to give a hint of slittiness.

The hole was a pinky-brown, and around it was a little halo in a slightly lighter shade.

He relinquished his hold on one cheek, and stroked the hole with a finger. It was bigger than Draco's, but felt the same; and Lachlan felt the same delight as he had felt with Draco, when they were much younger: the delight of doing something that was both wonderful and forbidden.

He was torn between sticking his finger inside, bumming Michael or copping a bumming from Michael.

He was very hard now, and rubbing himself inside Michael had its attractions, but he was here to be bummed, and as he thought of this, his own bumhole gave a little twitch.

He got up and turned Michael round again.

Each boy gasped in astonishment at the other's erect dicky: Michael for obvious reasons; Lachlan because Michael's length had gone up by a factor of something approaching three.

It was now about the same length as the boys in the wood opposite the church.

Lachlan desperately wanted Michael to do it to him.

He lay face down on the floor, saying: "Bum me, Michael."

"Er . . . Er . . ."

Michael seemed to be dithering but he cracked out: Efficio Culcitam!

A featherbed appeared next to Lachlan.

"Cool," he said, and rolled onto it.

"Er . . . Er . . ." said Michael, "I've never actually done this before."

"It can't be that difficult: just wet your dicky with spit, stick it in and rub it."

After a brief pause, Lachlan could feel the tip of Michael's dicky pressing against his hole, as he had felt Clark's the night before.

It was an exhilarating sensation.

Then Michael pushed his way in, and Lachlan felt dizzy with the joy of it all—until, half a second later the pain hit him.

The pain was so great that he had an impulse to scream and throw Michael off, but Lachlan could take pain: he had often played on despite taking hard knocks at football and cricket.

He reacted only with an involuntary jerk and grunt.

This seemed to encourage Michael, who began jerking and grunting himself, while rubbing his dicky deeply inside Lachlan.

Michael was lying on top of Lachlan now.

Lachlan gritted his teeth, resolving to see things through.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished and the warm glow that he felt with Clark was there again, this time enhanced by the feeling of Michael's chest on his back.

There was something else: Lachlan felt his own sexual urge growing. His dicky was rubbing against the mattress, and giving him those wank feelings.

Michael was rubbing really hard now, and he started making those anxious, whimpering sounds that Lachlan had heard so often from his own throat.

He was kissing Lachlan's neck.

Then he decelerated and came to a halt.

Lachlan didn't stop though: his own muscles—he couldn't have stopped them—jerked his dicky backwards and forwards across the mattress.

Soon he was producing his own uncontrolled sounds, and the wonderful feeling of pleasure called an orgasm was upon him.

Michael kissed Lachlan's neck again.

They lay wheezing for a bit, then Michael pulled his dicky out and got up.

"Wasn't that super?" said Lachlan as the boys dressed.

"It was absolute Heaven," said Michael.

Lachlan unlocked the door and peeped out.

"All clear," he said.

"Tibby?" said Michael.

Lachlan paused and Michael embraced him and kissed his lips.

"Sorry," said Lachlan, "I forgot some gay boys like to kiss."

He embraced Michael and resumed the kiss. There lips were protruding and there was a lot of wetness, but Lachlan didn't mind.

They went downstairs, and said goodbye.

Then Lachlan called Michael back: "I don't know your name."

"Michael Weeks."

"Ravenclaw fifth-year aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Same class as that pretty Watts-Poxon?

"Yes."

"Colin's in fifth-year. See you again, Michael."

"See you, Tibby."

It was Games that afternoon, and Lachlan felt a wet patch at his rear.

He thought Michael's creamy semen must have given him diarrhoea, but having got Madam Hooch's permission to pay a visit, he found that it was the creamy semen on its own leaking out.

He hadn't expected that.

He smelt it.

It was similar to the smell these Muggle youths had produced, but less pungent. Maybe that was because it had been in his bottom.

There was a lot of wet, though.

Michael Weeks must have produced gallons.

X

Lachlan had discovered, like the other first-years, that Hogwarts wasn't a doddle.

He spent most his spare time on Thursday and Friday on homework, the brightest spot being another message from Michael Weeks, this time by owl:

Dear Tibby,

I love you more than ever.

From Michael

Good for Michael!

His heart was in the right place; and sometimes his dicky would be too.

As well as Michael, Lachlan was looking forward to some more fun with Clark; and Abu could jolly well bum him too, even if he didn't have a foreskin; he couldn't refuse, with the hold that Lachlan had over him.

And what about MacFarlane who got the horn when he wrestled with Lachlan? His dark-red hair was the nicest colour in Hogwarts. And he had a big bum that maybe had a big enough hole to take Lachlan's dicky. Clark had a big bum too, but Lachlan thought its hole would be small and tight, like Clark's mouth.

Then there were the SSK's: he reckoned that he would be able to persuade or manipulate them into entering Lachlan's sex-life.

And the MacKenzie twins, of course.

On Saturday, in the interests of maximising the general enjoyment, he did without his usual wank before breakfast and poo after breakfast.

He met the twins on the lawn, and after a few dummies to shake off the fans, they managed to slink down the side of the Forbidden Forest without being observed.

They reached what Lachlan would always think of as Vaisey's Glade.

"What a super place!" said Callum.

"No-one can see us, it's really cool," said Jamie.

Lachlan knew from experience that people could see them, if they concealed themselves well enough but he scanned all the hiding-places and decided that they were indeed unoverlooked.

As for being cool, the weather was very mild and there wasn't a breath of wind in the glade.

"Clothes off!" he said, and the magic formula worked.

The twins laughed with pleasure and clustered to look at Lachlan's dicky.

"Make it hard!" said Jamie.

"We've never seen it hard," said Callum.

"Not yet," said Lachlan, "I need a poo first."

"Yes! Yes!" shouted the twins.

"Ssh!" said Lachlan.

He went to collect some dock leaves.

Then he had a bright idea: he squatted on the tree stump, so that Callum and Jamie would be able to get a perfect view.

The twins twittered with delight, and hunkered down behind Lachlan, whispering Ready!

Lachlan slowly relaxed his muscles.

Nothing happened for a time, but at last he felt his bowels stirring.

A little, hard lump of yesterday's poo popped out.

Then today's business: he allowed the head to poke out and in for a bit, but the pressure was building up, and eventually the poo had to be released onto the forest floor.

He went to wipe his bottom, but Callum grabbed the dock leaves and the twins did it for him, first Jamie and then Callum.

Lachlan was beginning to sense tiny traces of individuality in the twins. He thought that one day he might not need the C or the J.

He heard a whisper, then a finger slid up his bum.

He looked round and saw Callum's smile: it was Jamie's finger that was wiggling inside Lachlan.

Having someone else's finger up your bum was another new experience. It was as though a little animal were dancing there.

The lovely feeling reminded him of the times when he had fingered Draco's bum.

Jamie had obviously done this before: the lucky twins must have been doing naughty things every day of their lives.

But then, it was Callum's turn.

Again brotherly differences in touch.

Callum was also wiggling his finger, but with a little more in-and-out activity.

He continued for a few seconds, then pulled his finger free.

"Step down, Tibby," said Jamie.

Callum had fetched his wand from his cloak.

He pointed it at Lachlan's Poo, and invoked: Evanesco!

The Poo was gone.

"That's cool!" said Lachlan.

"You need it, when you like to watch people pooing," said Callum.

"Get your wand and try it on the leaves," said Jamie.

Lachlan succeeded in Vanishing a leaf at his third attempt. The rest of the leaves were easy.

He put away his wand.

"Did you like it?" he asked his friends.

It was tops and really good they said.

"Did you enjoy being watched?" asked Callum.

"It was dirty and naughty and disgusting; and I loved every second. What shall we do now?"

"Make it hard! Make it hard!" they said.

The twins were hard themselves: tiny dickies, not much bigger than a man's finger, but sweet and beautiful, like every bit of the twins.

That reminded him:

"Turn round, twins," he said.

His eyes and his brain were used to seeing two of everything MacKenzie-ish, but the view of two perfect bottoms that was revealed knocked him for six.

Each bottom was like a lecture on the abstract concept of Beauty.

But to see the two together gave Lachlan the strange inner conviction that the whole thing was one of those optical illusions where, if you concentrated, two images became one.

The mental excitement, even though Lachlan didn't feel any strong urge to bum the twins, made his dicky go very hard.

He stooped for a closer look, but Jamie cheated and turned his head.

"Look!" he called and his brother turned too.

The twins turned fully and stared at Lachlan's dicky.

It was Jane Palmer all over again: he wanted to look at their bottoms; they wanted to look at his dicky.

But simultaneity, impossible with Jane, became reality because of the miracle of twinship.

Callum stood on the tree stump and Lachlan looked at his bottom.

Then he felt Jamie's hand feeling his dicky.

Lachlan touched Callum's bottom.

It was incredibly smooth, like Draco's had been.

His Dicky was hard now.

Jamie was feeling the shaft all over, wrapping his hand round and squeezing very gently.

As Lachlan looked at Callum's bumhole, tiny and much smaller than Michael's, he felt a new sensation: Jamie was licking Lachlan's purple glans.

This felt sexy, and his middle jolted forwards, independently of Lachlan's will.

Jamie coped with the jolt by opening his mouth; then closing it: he was sucking Lachlan's dicky.

This was better than rubbing.

Lachlan gave a squeak of joy.

Then it turned out that he could have the sucking and the rubbing: Jamie tugged the loose skin on Lachlan's shaft backwards and forwards while sucking the tip hard.

Lachlan moistened his finger and pressed it into Callum.

He felt his orgasm arriving just at the moment that his finger entered Callum's tight bumhole.

Waves of pleasure swept through him, and his finger curled inside Callum.

Then the squeals came: he couldn't have stopped them for a million pounds.

No sooner had he stopped squealing and jerking, than both twins drew away from him.

"Bummies!" said Callum.

"Tibby, Tibby, Tibby! Lie down!" said Jamie.

Walking on air with the pleasure still inside him, Lachlan found Crusher, pointed it him at the ground, and called: Efficio Culcitam!

A Muggle Keep Left road sign appeared.

The twins laughed and Vanished it.

Then they tried the Charm themselves, producing only a hammer and a chess set.

"One last go," said Lachlan, and almost before he had pronounced the Charm, an aristocratic single bed appeared.

Lachlan didn't wait to wonder from which part of his brain this splendid artifact had come: he was face down and impatient for a twin.

Jamie went first.

Lachlan revelled in the glorious, and by now well-loved, sequence of hands feeling his bottom; a dicky nudging his bumhole; the ravishing moment of entry; and the period of energetic rubbing.

And Jamie was indeed energetic, going at twice the rate of Clark or Michael.

He had slipped his hands underneath Lachlan and was embracing him tightly—something that Lachlan's previous bummers had not done.

There was no doubt about Jamie getting the wonderful feeling of pleasure—the pre-pubescent orgasm, as Wardy had called it: his rasping squeals rang through the Forest.

Callum was just as lively, and just as loud.

"I don't suppose you've got a poo for me?" asked Lachlan.

"We did ours last night," said Callum.

So they decided to go back to the castle.

As he dressed he seemed to get a whiff of something familiar.

"You can't shoot can you, boys?" he asked.

Of course they couldn't.

By the time they were all dressed, he had forgotten the illusory odour.

The three lads discussed whether anyone might be playing football.

"Or we could go and watch the Gryffindor Quidditch trial," said Jamie, "Harry Potter's captain."

Lachlan wasn't all that interested in Harry Potter.

"Do you have fun in the dorm every night?" he asked, as they threaded their way out of the Forest.

"Yes," said Callum, "We go into one of our beds."

"And we read for a bit," said Jamie.

"Then we get our fun."

"Then we go to sleep."

"Doesn't the noise bother the other three?"

"We try to keep it down," said Callum.

"Scotty's noisier, anyway," said Jamie.

"He wanks every night and morning."

"Like me," said Lachlan.

"Scotty wants to play with us," said Jamie.

"But we're okay by ourselves," said Callum.

"And with our friend."

"What are we going to do for fun in the future?" asked Lachlan, "There isn't time to go to the Forest every day; and winter's coming: it'll be too cold."

"Something'll turn up," said Callum.

"Of course it will," said a boy's voice behind them.

Lachlan turned and saw a short boy of about fourteen, with a shock of dark hair over an intelligent face.

"Bloody hell! Where did you come from?" said Lachlan.

"Just been for a stroll in the woods."

"Did you hear anything?"

"I heard three boys enjoying themselves as boys should."

"And did you see anything?"

"I saw three boys enjoying themselves as boys should; though I strongly recommend that you always start these sessions with a kiss and cuddle."

"You're not from Hogwarts, are you?" said Callum.

"We'd have noticed you, wouldn't we, Callum?" said Jamie.

"I'll say!"

"I used to be at Hogwarts," said the boy.

"Why have you come back?" asked Lachlan.

"To have a look at you."

"At me?"

"Yes, at you, Tibby."

"Why? . . . Oh, you must be Danny Jorrocks."

"The same," said Danny, shaking hands with Lachlan.

"And these are my friends . . . Callum . . ."

Callum offered his hand for Danny to shake, but Danny picked it up, held the contaminated finger to his nose, and inhaled deeply.

"Pleased to meet you, Callum," he said.

". . . and Jamie."

He repeated the process with Jamie.

"Pleased to meet you, Jamie."

"I haven't told them about that thing," said Lachlan.

"You can tell them. I suspect they'll be the main beneficiaries."

"Then I'm approved, am I?"

"Yes, you're very much approved, Tibby. You've got the right character and value-system."

"And a big dicky."

"That doesn't come into it, even though it's probably a record for Hogwarts first-years."

"And will it matter that I can't cream?"

"I don't think so. The old books aren't quite clear, but one of them talks about Praesens which means available bodily productions."

"Creaming reminds me . . . how close did you get to us?"

"Very close indeed."

"Oh."

Lachlan looked puzzled; then enlightenment came: "You must have an Invisibility Cloak."

"Sort of."

"And you had a wank, didn't you."

"Ah, I wondered if you'd smelt it."

Danny turned to the twins: "Callum and Jamie: Nature has given you the most beautiful bottoms in Hogwarts. I hope you make full use of them, and that you get a lot of pleasure from them.

The twins thanked him.

Then Lachlan said: "There's people coming."

Some students had been strolling by the lake, and seeing the glamorous trio, had changed direction.

"They can't see me," said Danny, "But I've got to go anyway. Accio Bag!"

A bag came flying through the air from the direction of the castle into Danny's hands.

There were three wows!

Danny put the bag on his back and turned to the twins.

"One more little treat, boys, if you please."

He sniffed again at the boys' fingers and said, mysteriously: "Ah . . . Bisto!"

He walked away towards the drive. He had a slight limp.

"I forgot to ask him if he needed a poo," said Lachlan.

—CHAPTER THIRTEEN— Danny at Hogwarts and Elsewhere

On Friday, Danny arrived at Hogwarts as the students were having their dinner.

He would have liked to go into the Great Hall so as to have a good look at all the boys—some familiar faces and, of course, twenty new ones.

However, he reckoned that, despite his caginess, Professor Dumbledore could probably see through his Disillusionment Charm; then there was that new Professor, Slughorn: a wizard of renown and experience.

He waited outside the Hall.

He felt a twinge of nostalgia: there were nineteen beloved sexpots at Yorosk, but there were his brothers and many others here at Hogwarts—boys he'd known for a long time.

While he was waiting, he mentally enumerated the boys.

He could accurately describe the appearance of about fifty willies, and the taste of about half of those.

One of those twenty-five, though it was unofficial, was Harry Potter, who emerged now from the Great Hall looking quite cheerful, as well he might, Toadface having been booted out.

Some more famous willies came out of the Hall, and at last, there were his beloved brothers.

He followed them up the stairs, listening to their conversation.

Colin was planning on going to the library, so Danny waited for him there.

It was soon apparent that Colin was going to be some time, so he went down to the kitchens.

He was an old friend of the house-elves, and they soon sorted him out a fried fish sandwich.

Munching on this he wandered onto the lawn. Sunset wasn't until after half past seven, so there were quite a few students chatting or playing games.

He was particularly keen to see the babies—it was three long years since Danny had been a baby, but he vividly remembered how, after two weeks, he had suddenly felt himself part of the Hogwarts community.

Most of the babies seemed to be indoors: perhaps getting some homework in to free up the weekend.

But there was a group of ten who must be Gryffindor: bonding together; putting off their homework; inveighing about the unfairness of teachers.

He looked at the five boys.

All of them were beautiful, of course, but which of them were gay?

He decided that the blond boy was a probable. Apart from being just a touch camp, his glance was everywhere—but generally towards areas where there plenty of boys.

Then the gypsy type: he looked a real goer: probably shagging girls already (but not, of course, at Hogwarts) and willing to allow boys as more-than-acceptable substitutes.

About the other three—the tiny one, the brown-skinned one, and the mousey one—he could form no opinion.

He looked across the lawn, and saw Chris Gillies and Jimmy Peakes, with their girlfriends, throwing a Bad-tempered Ball to each other.

After a year and a half of straightness, Chris had started making approaches to Danny, but it had been left to the Creevey brothers to bring out the homo in him.

Jimmy was a major disappointment to Danny: dark-haired and handsome; a happy, dynamic party-lover. Just the sort of straight boy who you would expect to revel in male bodies until such time as physical intimacy with females was available.

What a waste! Danny thought of the dramatic pale skin set off by a characterful, short, brown, stubby penis.

Still, he was probably post-pubescent now, and the urge to spill his seed somewhere other than in his hand might yet lead him to some lucky boy.

The students drifted in, as night approached and the breeze felt chilly.

Colin was still likely to be some time, so Danny went to test his Password Charm on Classroom 3E.

It still worked, but he was not prepared to try it on the houses as he suspected that Professor Dumbledore had probably beefed up house defences since the time that Danny had run rings round them,

He arranged the room in a suitable configuration, and went to the library to watch Colin's painful efforts.

It was eight o'clock before the last Creevey full stop had been set on the parchment and Danny could write his message,

Colin dashed out the library, and Danny made his own leisurely way to Classroom 3E.

He stripped and prepared his bumhole.

The knock came, and Danny let his brothers in.

There was intense joy. They hadn't met each other for nearly a month, and there was much hugging and kissing to catch up on.

In the midst of all the passion, the Creeveys somehow found time to remove their clothing.

Then Danny was swallowed up in an erotic fervour.

He ran to the antique bed that he had created and lay down with his bum to the air.

"Colin, darling," he yelled, with a quavering voice, "Get stuck in!"

Usual practice was that bumholes be ransacked by ascending order of willy size.

This was a mere physical convenience: Danny always maintained that size didn't matter in the least.

However, a boy needs a good stretching every so often, and Danny's was long overdue.

Colin must have sensed this: he was on top of Danny in a twinkling.

He was a lot rougher and less considerate than usual, causing Danny quite a bit of pain—but welcome pain, seeming to add an extra dimension to the Love and Lust within Danny's soul.

And then they were in the arrangement that Nature has ordained as the best for any two boys: clinging together tightly; coupled at loins and mouths; bodies slamming into each other.

Dennis was, as so often, busying himself with Colin's bumhole, which was very much a moving target: Colin seemed to have been going short to judge by his frenetic fervour and his speedy and lengthily strident orgasm.

Dennis had soon replaced Colin and came to his own quick climax.

Danny felt his own moments of urgency and finished himself off with a quick spurt inside Colin.

As they lay panting, sweating and cuddling, Danny said: "Tell me about the marriages."

"Sea Jay and Jonny are still keeping themselves to themselves," said Colin, "But as soon as the curfews are sorted, they're going to invite their friends to a marriage-opening night.

"Adam's being very good, though I suppose it's early days yet. Out of respect for James, we're careful not to lead Adam into temptation—which reminds me we'd better get dressed."

As they were doing so, Danny told his brothers about Stepan's antics.

Then he Vanished the bed, replacing it with a table and seven chairs.

When Sea Jay and Jonathan arrived, there was a joyous reunion with Danny, who they had not seen them since the memorable day when Danny had been Best Witch to Adam, and then Sea Jay.

"All very proper and business-like," said Jonny, "But I can smell naughtiness: you'd better remove the pong if Adam and James are coming."

With a wave of his wand, Danny purified the air.

After another round of hugs and kisses, the lads got down to business.

Colin handed over the bag of vials that he'd brought.

"There's eight there, Danny," he said, "There's a Slytherin first-year called Lachlan Tibbs. He's on our side, and I thought he might be useful."

He told Danny about the Commandos' dealings with Tibby.

"He sounds promising," said Danny, "I'd better come back tomorrow morning and have a butchers at him myself. What's he look like?"

"Tall; Mousey-brown hair; blue-eyes; a colossal willy people say; not exactly pretty, but devastatingly attractive; your best marker is that he's made friends with a pair of beautiful, blond Hufflepuff identical twins."

Dennis chipped in: "And your other marker is that, since the whispers about his willy began, he's got a gang of girls following twenty yards behind him. Even though he's a Jigger and tells everyone he's gay."

"I think I'll find him."

"Anyway you've got his stuff, if you decide to have him in," said Colin.

Did everything go okay?"

"Yes," said Colin, "Damian wanked us all—except Tibby, obviously. Will it matter that he can't do semen?"

"Probably not," said Danny.

"There's one minor hiccup," said Jonny, "We all got carried away and forgot to do a test run of Scourgify ad Ampullam!—all except Tibby, who did one at the start and one at the end."

"Good for Tibby," said Danny, "But it doesn't matter: being slightly weak just means that it'll maybe work only at the second or third attempt."

He checked the labelling on the vials, commenting: "Damian didn't do badly for two days."

Colin laughed: "Every time he wanked one of us into our vials, he got excited and had to add a bit more to his."

Danny magicked a layer of Crushproof Cotton Cloud around each vial, Summoned his bag, and transferred Colin's collection to his own seven vials. He added the photos in a side pocket.

"Bloody hell, that's heavy!" said Dennis as he picked up the bag.

"It's got fifteen vials and a pound of gold in it," said Danny.

"Arrgh, gold!" said Colin, "What do a fine young gemm'n like 'ee want with pirate treasure?"

Colin's dealings with Tom Warrington had taught him how to do a respectable Bristol (Brizzle) accent.

"No time for that now," said Danny, "I want to be back early. Whoever needs exercise most, down to Ravenclaw and fetch the other happy couple."

No-one looked at Sea Jay, but he rose anyway.

"It's just that my hairy arse needs a lot of nourishment," he said, exiting.

"It's not fair," said Jonny, "Harry Potter has seconds on pudding too, and he never puts on an ounce."

"He worries it away," said Colin.

"I think your husband is perfect in every way, Jonny," said Danny.

"He knows I think that too," said Jonny.

X

Five minutes later, Sea Jay returned, bringing Adam and James.

There were further enthusiastic hugs and kisses before the seven wizards convened at the table.

From his heavy bag, Danny produced two small pots out of which grew plants with complicated blue flowers; they looked pretty, but also unsettling in an indefinable way.

"What's that?" asked Dennis.

"This is a flower called the Blue Orchid of Interesting Tenacity," said Danny, "It's renowned for its determination to remain united with itself and its roots; and the roots themselves are nearly impossible to part from the soil in which they grow. Try and get rid of it, and it still remains a healthy growing plant."

"What are we going to do with it?"

"We're going to give Ayling and Gunning their comeuppances," said Danny.

"Tell!" said Jonathan, putting an arm around Sea Jay's shoulder so that they could share what they knew would be a fascinating exposition.

"The Hogwarts statues," said Danny, "Are full of charms. If Hogwarts comes under attack, the statues will come to life and defend the castle using their range of magically-enhanced mediæval weaponry.

"The Depello! Charm is aimed at removing, not a protection for the statues as you thought, but the capability of the statues to protect Hogwarts."

"That makes sense," said Jonny, "So Hogwarts would be weaker if You-Know-Who ever attacked."

"Through the culvert!" said Dennis, in a moment of brilliance.

"Yes, Den," said Danny, "Or whatever other line of attack Voldemort tries."

"Go on, Danny, darling!" said Dennis, bouncing with excitement.

"Where does the Blue Orchid come in?" asked Colin.

"I'm coming to that," said Danny, "In the first place, you should know that Depello! is what is known as a Duel Charm: it can only work when two wizards invoke it simultaneously.

"The reason it's needed is, I'm pretty sure, because the statues' own charms are Duel Charms.

"You will read about Duel Charms for N.E.W.T.'s, but they will only appear in the theory papers, not the practical.

"The reason for this is that the wizard world is a conservative, mealy-mouthed world and has always educated its children as though Sex was a minor, if unavoidable, feature of life, and Gay Sex didn't exist at all.

"Over the generations, the sexual aspect of magic has been forgotten—in particular, the fact that Duel Charms will only be successful for Magis cum Magis: for wizards with wizards. They must be cast by two wizards who are regularly taking each other's semen into their bodies."

There was a moment's silence; then a roar of laughter.

"You know, sometimes I almost feel sorry for You-Know-Who!" said Jonny.

"Yes," said Danny, "He and his scumbags are so concerned with power and immortality that all humanistic characteristics of magic are ignored."

"Wait a minute," said Jonny, "That means that whoever charmed the statues in the first place must have been having gay sex."

"Yes."

"Do you think it was just for the magic, or did they do it out of genuine gay feelings?"

"The latter, I'm sure," said Danny, "In fact, I'd go further and say that, in all probability, Hogwarts was founded by four homosexuals to counter the anti-gay consensus that followed the propaganda of the hypocrite Saul of Tarsus.

"Of course, Hogwarts included females—a mistake we have not made at Yorosk. But, despite that complication, and despite all the proscriptions and persecutions, it had quite a lot of success in encouraging gayness, as you can read between the lines of the official history books.

"But gayness at Hogwarts was driven underground by the inexorable rise of the grey, faceless bureaucracy at the Ministry of Magic."

Dennis was jumping up and down in his chair.

"So all that Ayling and Gunning had to do to make it work was shag each other," he said.

"That's right."

"So where does the Blue Orchid come in Danny?" asked Colin.

"I'm coming to that," said Danny, "The effects of magic-suppressing charms can usually be cleared by the range of simple Reversing Charms, as your better DADA teachers will have told you. The Creeveys knew he meant Harry Potter, Danny having had to minimise his knowledge of Dumbledore's Army.

"To protect against a Dual Charm in advance, however, we need another Duel Charm, the Repello! I propose that we add a refinement dating back to the 14th Century: one that inflicts suitable punishment on those trying the Depello! Punishment in the form of an arsehole hex.

"The charm is: Repello Depello Bello Anello! we're going to repel the assaults on the statues with anal war."

Jonny chuckled: "I think I see where the Blue Orchid comes in."

Danny chuckled too: "And you're quite right, Mrs Harris; and fits in is the correct phrase. We have here two pairs of Commandos who are, not only internally awash with each other's semen, but in love and married. It's impossible for the Charm to fail.

"You stand, wands in your right hands pointed at the statue—don't forget to do the suits of armour too—with your left hands holding the pot, and sing out Repello Depello Bello Anello!

"If you're successful you will feel the pot give a little wriggle of delight like Dennis when you insert your tongue in his bumhole."

Dennis gave a little wriggle of delight just at the thought of a tongue being inserted in his bumhole.

"And what happens?" asked Jonny.

"Nothing at all," said Danny, "Unless some one tries to interfere with the statue's Charms. In that case the perpetrators will find that they have a Blue Orchid growing out their bumhole."

They all laughed happily.

"If you think of the situation," said Danny, "People have to eat; and people have to shit; and shit is a wonderful fertiliser."

The laughter increased.

"Yes," said Danny, "That plant is going to grow and grow. It can bear trimming, but the roots are too tenacious to be removed and the plant will only grow back, bushier and healthier than ever.

"The only cure is a diet of rotten flesh and frequent doses of Madam Labouchère's Repulsive Ratwater. A month of that treatment causes Blue Orchid to shit itself out in disgust."

"An excellent scheme, Daniel." said Jonny, and the others laughed their agreement.

"Is the Blue Orchid traditional?" he asked.

"Fairly," said Danny, "Some wizards have used something sharp like a plough-coulter; when feelings are running high, even a red-hot coulter."

"The Blue Orchid's more fun," said Dennis.

"The only possible difficulty lies in finding all the statues," said Danny, "Some of them are shy, some are standoffish, and some of them like to wander about the castle, but I have a feeling that once they learn what's going on, the statue's will be coming to you.

"We'd better leave it until after eleven then you four Commandos can get on your way.

They discussed some of the details, then Danny asked to be told about the Nine O'Clock Club.

Adam had to induct Sea Jay, Jonathan and Danny into the Club so that they could read its documents.

Adam showed him the Rota, and then he tabled the full list of members, something none of the Gryffindor boys had seen before:

Chambers, Ephraim, VI(R), Clack, Ronnie, V(H);

Creevey, Colin, V(G), Creevey, Dennis, III(G);

Grindell, Paul, III(R), Leggatt, Tom, V(R);

Jones, Peter, II(G), Morgan, Caerwen, II(R);

Chang, Cho, VII(R), Corner, Michael, VI(R);

Abercrombie, Euan, II(G); Adcock, Ricky, III(R); Alexander, Craig, V(R); Bell, Alexander, II(G); Bloom, Christopher, I(R); Buchanan, Gideon, II(H); Cadwallader, Owen, VII(H); Campbell, Alan, I(G); Coote, Ritchie, VII(G); Dickinson, Kyle, II(G);

Fong, Scott, I(H); Gillies, Christopher, III(G); Gloyne, James, VI(H); Goodenough, Colin, V(H); Hibbard, Simon, III(G); Hinton, Matthew, II(H); Holmes, Harold, I(H);

Hopkins, Wayne, VI(H); Kirke, Andrew, III(G); Kirton, Nathan, I(H); Mason, David, I (H); McKay, Ruairidh, I(G); Murch, Martin, IV(R); Peakes, Jimmy, III(G); Rann, Trevor, III(H); Rath, Derek, V(H); Richards, Tony. III(H); Rudd, Johnny, V(H); Treharne, Gareth, I(G); Webb, David, III(R); Wilkes, Tintin, II(R); Woodman, Adrian, I(R).

There was a lot of wonderment and discussion.

"Just think," said Colin, "Holmes and Gloyne have been in the same bedroom for five years without knowing about each other."

"Goodenough and Rudd, knew about Derek Rath, anyway," said Adam, and the boys giggled.

Danny held his tongue about some of the supposed virgins he'd lured into occasional, or one-off, naughtiness in the past: Craig Alexander, Johnny Rudd, Ritchie Coote, Jimmy Gloyne, Colin Goodenough.

All repressed, guilt-stricken boys; now coming shyly out of their shells, ready to use their bodies in the way that Nature intended.

"There's one name that's missing," said Danny.

"Who's that?" asked Colin.

"The most sex-mad boy in the school."

"Seamus!" said Colin and Dennis simultaneously.

"Yeah, you'd think all the Nine O'Clock secrecy would be ideal for a boy that doesn't want people to think he's gay."

"Perhaps he was worried that Dean would be on the list," said Colin.

"It's a good job you've got this list protected, Adam," said Jonny, "It's a blackmailer's charter."

"That's an idea!" said Adam, "Some of these boys have rich daddies, and I can live off them all my life; and keep my darling James in the style to which he's never been accustomed."

"The only style I care about is having any lifestyle that includes my very own Adam," said James.

"Well I think Eddie Carmichael deserves to be honoured by everyone in the school," said Danny.

They told Danny about JIGS and the stupendous achievement of the boys in David Ward's dormitory.

They discussed the delightful situation until eleven.

Out in the corridor, Sea Jay and Jonny tackled the first statue; Adam and James the second.

Both were successful, and Danny kissed the Gryffindor boys goodbye as they set off to cover floors Four to Seven; then the Ravenclaw boys who were to do floors Ground to Three.

Then it was a fond farewell to the Creeveys at the front door, and ten minutes later, Danny was in London

X

Danny went through a door that was invisible to Muggles, but on which he could see the notice: Jorrocks & Co. Wurzel Warehouse

The notice had been settled on after Market Research had come up with mangold wurzels as being the least attractive target for thieves.

Danny took the stairs to the top floor and tapped on the door with his wand.

The man who answered had impressive dignity, and an impressive stomach.

"Good evening, Mr Swordfish," said Danny, "Everything okay?"

"Yes, Master Daniel; Mr Bittles returned the young gentlemen at nine o'clock. After an hour's rampage, they retired. I understand that it was one o'clock in the morning to them."

Danny smiled inwardly: Mr and Mrs Swordfish took their holidays in a Muggle caravan at Mersea Island, and that was as far east as they had ever been. Time difference was to them a harmless eccentricity of Mr Jorrocks and the rest of his company.

Danny went through to the large room at the end of the passage and opened the door.

By the glimmer of the night-lamp, he could see that the bunks had been ignored and a big mattress laid down on the floor.

His eyes were torn between a pull towards his biggest love, Brian, and his biggest worry, Stepan.

As it happened, there was no decision to make: the two boys were lying in each other's arms. Danny guessed that Stepan had nabbed Brian as the nearest to Danny that he could get.

Nicolai and Yuri were sleeping on either side, guarding the youngsters. Even in the faint light, Nicolai's shoulder-length mass of red hair was bright.

The twins were nearest the door, for once sleeping the right way round, both on their right sides, with Pavel sucking Boris's thumb.

Giving renewed thanks for his life, Danny stepped inside the room.

At once Yuri's voice called: Danny's back! Wake up everybody! Danny's back! Wake up everybody! . . .

Ingenious Yuri had set up an Alarm.

The twins were up at once and running into Danny's arms.

The voice stopped as soon as Yuri woke up.

Danny stripped off and lay propped against a bean-bag which Yuri had created.

The others huddled around him, with Stepan being a little pushy in grabbing a place next to Danny.

"Did you have a good day?" asked Danny.

"We went to a Muggle zoo," said Pavel.

"There was an owl that looked like Professor de Castro," said Boris.

"We saw monkeys like your Patronus," said Stepan, "And we went to a Burger-Bar and had Fries."

"And we spoke English to people," said Pavel.

"And some of them couldn't speak English themselves," said Boris.

"Then we went to the Pictures," said Pavel.

"What did you see?" asked Danny.

"It was called Independence Day," said Boris.

"It was silly," said Pavel.

"All Muggle films are silly," said Danny.

"It's called escapism," said Yuri.

"It was too long," said Boris.

"All Muggle films are too long," said Danny.

"They pad them out to stop having to show another film," said Yuri.

"It was really for eight-year-olds," said Pavel.

"All Muggle films are really for eight-year-olds," said Danny.

"Yuri told it in Russian, and it was just for me," said Stepan.

"Well done Yuri," said Danny, "What was it about?"

"Wizards from Space," said Boris.

"Attacking the Earth," said Pavel.

"Guess who won," said Boris.

"The Americans," said Danny.

Brian changed the subject: "You had sex, Dan; I can smell it."

"Can you tell who with?"

"Not from the smell; but I know it was Colin and Dennis; I'll try tasting it."

He moved down the bed and enveloped Danny's willy with his lips.

This was a signal for a general outbreak of priapic activities.

Stepan looked a little lost, but Danny held him tightly and the twins, knowing Stepan's uncertainty with things, began a rigorous exercise of kissing and cuddling him all over.

Yuri and Nicolai were having a loving kiss-and-grope of their own, but when Brian moved his attentions to Danny's bum, Yuri was straight on to the opportunity, taking Danny's willy in his mouth.

Nick approached Danny from the north, and offered Danny his willy, which was refused in favour of a long suck at Nick's balls, which could always be relied on to yield a rich, salty, musky taste.

Nick was yelping with excitement—he had a twin's finger doing things inside his bum—and soon swapped balls for willy, and was dribbling his juice down Danny's throat.

Yuri must have suddenly realised that Danny's bumhole had been well-prepared by Brian.

He nudged Brian aside, and eased himself into Danny.

Brian knew what was wanted off him, and was soon rogering Yuri as fervently as Yuri was rogering Danny.

Stepan, meanwhile, had seen his own opportunity: Danny's willy was quivering invitingly and, for the first time in his life, Stepan was sucking a boy.

The part of Danny's brain that could think gave out a Hallelujah. The problem-child was part of a happy community enjoying scorching sex.

Despite Stepan's inexpert slurps, Danny spasmed with excitement and squirted into the boy's mouth.

Stepan coughed and slurped a little, but continued to suck, and would have gone to sleep in that position had not the twins reclaimed his body in protective, loving embraces.

"I swallowed Danny's cum-juice," he mumbled to Boris, whose lips were pressing against his own.

"Stepan was good," mumbled Pavel, who was currently sucking Stepan's toes.

Danny snuggled up to Brian, and was rocked to sleep by the gentle rhythm of Nicolai, Mr Reliable, giving Yuri a goodnight shag.

X

Bittles arrived the next morning in time to breakfast with the boys.

"I hope they were no trouble, Mr Bittles?" said Danny.

"None at all, Master Daniel. Good company; a chance to do things that have been unavailable to me since the kids, and yourself, begging your pardon, Master Daniel, grew up; only one minor incident."

"What was that," asked Daniel, carefully not looking at Stepan.

"I regret to say that Master Stepan abstracted an item from a Muggle window-display."

"Good Lord, Mr Bittles! You didn't allow wand-access?"

"No, indeed, Master Daniel: Master Stepan simply stepped into the window and removed the item. As the incident had so far been unobserved by Muggles, I thought it safer to confiscate the item and retain it, rather than attempt to return it."

"Quite right, Mr Bittles. What was the item?"

Bittles raised his wand and called Accio Item!

A thin cane of wood, with a curved handle, landed in Bittles' hand."

"Bloody hell! What was that doing in a Muggle shop-window?"

"It formed part of a display entitled: Back to School which included a number of dummies dressed in the modern style, and a collection of historic items aimed at inducing nostalgic feelings in parents and a suggestion that, if they bought their children's clothing at this shop, they would become part of a Great Tradition."

"What were the other historic items?"

"A mortar-board hat; a cricket sweater, cap and bat; a teddy-bear; a volume entitled Goodbye, Mr Chips; a satchel; a blackboard with chalk; possibly more, that I can't remember."

"Crikey!"

He turned to Stepan, asking: "Why did you want this, Stepan?"

"It's a present for you, Danny; it's so you can spank us properly when we're naughty."

The other boys, with their community sensitivity, didn't laugh.

"Well, I don't think we should do that, Stepan, and I think Mr Bittles should Vanish this."

"No, it's a Present!"

"Okay, I'll keep it then, but only if you promise me never to steal anything again."

"I promise."

"Send it to Yorosk, please, Mr Bittles."

"Yes, Master Daniel."

"Now I must tell you that we're running late, Mr Bittles: I have to go to Hogwarts—probably for a couple of hours."

"Very well, Master Daniel."

Mr Bittles didn't look at all disappointed at the news.

Danny knew that he was paid time-and-a-half at weekends; and that, as well as the cost of keeping his wife in their suburban villa, he supported a young, Transpontine witch called Lucrezia.

"I suggest you take the boys to see the Muggle soldiers on horses and we aim to meet back here at noon."

"Very well, Master Daniel."

Danny collected his bag and Apparated to Hogsmeade.

X

In the village he bought some sweets and games, as they'd missed the chance of a visit to Diagon Alley.

He re-applied the Weight Reduction Charm, Disillusioned and set off for the school with his bag on his back.

He arrived in time for the breakfast exodus—dribs and drabs today, this being the weekend.

He had no difficulty in picking up Tibby: the appearance, the twins, the tittering girls all matched; only the colossal willy was missing: but surely he'd want a pee soon.

It was soon apparent that the striking trio were looking to evade their fans, something they succeeded in doing before slinking off along the far side of the burn.

They must be going for a look at the culvert, he thought; but no: they turned off into the Forbidden Forest.

His joy knew no bounds as the clothes came off.

They were having a sex-session; what's more, it was their first ever sex-session.

He thought Colin's description of Tibby's penis was fair.

It wasn't just the length that made it colossal: Danny could estimate that accurately: it was about the length of Danny's erect penis: five and three quarter inches.

But the width: at its base, where it joined the hairless pubis, it must be well over two and a half inches across; thereafter, there was a gentle taper to a long glans.

Yet, in a penile beauty-contest, the prize would have to go to the twins: half the size of Tibby's, but so utterly perfect.

His mind had wandered from the boys' conversation, and he was brought back to reality by the realisation that there was going to be an exhibition poo.

Danny had never been attracted to poo. He had encountered it with his fingers sometimes, and if it was old and hardened, he could take it when kissing a boy's bumhole; but new, sticky poo was unexciting, and it must have the most unsubtle smell out of the spectrum of smells that boys produced.

But watching a boy having a poo had rarely occurred to him.

Now, the prospect of seeing this slightly strange boy opening his bumhole was enticing.

And the reality was splendid; as Tibby jiggled the brown head about, Danny got the horn.

He kept his horn through the subsequent events.

Though amazed at Lachlan's monumental erection, he kept his composure enough to magic up the bed which the three young wizards could not achieve.

Then the sight of a twin's bottom jiggling up and down at high speed was too much: he had a short, intense wank.

He was very impressed with the three lads. Lachlan, as an agent of righteousness within Slytherin, would be tremendously valuable.

And he already had a soft spot for twins.

These particular twins had obviously been experimenting with adventurous sex for years, and had orgasms of an intensity comparable to Konstantin's—and he was two years older than Callum and Jamie.

His own pair could not yet have orgasms, and their naughty actions in the past had been more to do with Sexual Magic than sexual pleasure.

He made himself known to the three boys, and was especially impressed by Tibby's canniness.

It had been a good start to the day.

He had time to spare: time to go and look at the culvert, but the attraction of Gryffindor Trials with Harry Potter as captain was too much.

He arrived just as Harry had selected his Chasers: three girls.

The Beater trials gave what was, for Danny, a more satisfactory result: Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote—both Nine O'Clock Clubbers ready to embark on a new sexual and sporting life.

Danny laughed at the memory of the two times he had been with Ritchie.

Ritchie had been a big sixth-year and Danny a squitchy thirteen-year-old. He had found himself alone with Ritchie and barged him into a cubicle. Unfortunately Danny had been in no position to observe Ritchie's goggling eyes as he found himself with a little boy's mouth clamped round his penis, and sixty seconds later, shooting his load down the little boy's throat.

Thereafter, Ritchie had never looked in Danny's eye, though blushing when Danny was about.

Yet Danny had got him once again in January, just before Danny left. It was more or less an action replay, except that Ritchie had kissed a little more eagerly and pulled his own underpants down.

It had almost been like two rapes.

And next Monday Ritchie and Craigie Alexander would be getting together with the Creeveys listening!

The Trial had reached the struggle for Keeper.

The first to try was Cormac McLaggen, a seventh-year who had always been obnoxious, coming to Danny's attention two years earlier when he had loudly proclaimed the lunacy of selecting Twist and Potter ahead of himself as prefect and Triwizard champion respectively—the supplanters being described as Not Our Sort of People.

Then last year, he had directed some cutting sneers at the Jiggers, only to stop suddenly. About that time he started showing wariness of Fred and George, while they started calling him God.

A rumour had spread that the twins had caused the indelible legend GOD to be charmed onto his penis—a legend which, when he felt frisky, became GAY GOOD.

With the twins having left, his obnoxiousness had clearly returned, and he had been bossing Harry around all morning.

Now it looked as though he was going to win selection: he had saved four shots and Danny decided to Confund him on the last one. Then he thought no: he was no longer a member of Gryffindor, and even if he had been, McLaggen was probably a better keeper than Ron Weasley, anyway.

He was amused and gratified to see Hermione do the Confundus for him—a rather crude one for Hermione, probably down to nervousness and the awareness that she was doing a most unprefectly thing.

Then Ron saved his five shots and became Keeper.

Justice had been served.

Happy with the morning's events, he returned to London, released Bittles and took the boys to the Burger-Bar.

When the last bit of grease had been smeared onto the last face, he told them: "Now, boys, we're going to the Hole with a Mint!"

X

In the middle ages the little Mid-Wales village of Llantrisant developed from being a metal-trading centre for wizards, to being a coining location, to being a full-scale mint.

By the mid-fifteenth century, Llantrisant had become the only official wizard mint in the country.

From all over Britain, wizards, goblins and dwarves, in donkey carts, delivered the results of their mining and smelting to the village.

Iron, Tin, Copper, Zinc, Silver, Lead, all found their way to Llantrisant, but the King of Metals was Gold.

There had been rocky periods, most notably when the Goblins had claimed that all gold belonged to them.

But with the setting up of Gringotts, stability had been reached.

Then, by one of these submaterial linkages that occur between the wizard and Muggle worlds, the Muggles decided to move their mint to Llantrisant.

In one of those brilliant moves that had made Mr Jorrocks such a successful broker between the two worlds, he had procured a consultancy with the Muggles and recommended outsourcing some of the production to save money; after allowing this proposal to become the universally accepted option, Mr Jorrocks proposed that the Muggle mint could actually do what the outsourcing firm was to do itself, so reaping the profits that the outsourcing firm would have made.

The basic mint and the internal outsource facility were within the same building but run as independent cost centres.

The Muggle mint appeared to be a super-efficient operation, but the arrangement allowed Jorrocks and Company to generate an unaccountable spare capacity which was filled by wizard minting operations.

For several hours every day, Muggle blanks, known as planchets, were replaced by wizard blanks, and Knuts and Sickles were produced; these appearing as pees and pounds to the Muggle workers.

Jorrocks and Company were scrupulously honest, never giving in to temptations to debase the metallurgical mix or leak some coins.

On the other hand, with two organisations sharing a single resource which was financially supervised by Jorrocks and Company, it was difficult sometimes to ensure that the same operating costs were not sometimes paid to Jorrocks and Company by the Muggles and the Ministry.

"We made a mint to make a mint!" Evan Jones, the rotund Plant Manager, would laugh.

It was to meet Evan Jones that Danny was leading his boys.

The gold side of the operation was kept solely under wizard control: there was simply too much disparity between Muggle and wizard valuations.

The seven boys travelled by Floo, Stepan being held in Danny's arms, and clapping his hands with joy at the new experience.

Mr Jones was there to meet them and led them to the Special Projects Department.

"Get it out then, boy!" he said, and Danny gave him the small bars of gold.

"Beautiful," said Mr Jones after appraising the gold with eyes and nose. He was one of the top wizard metallurgists.

"Absolutely pure," he said, "And expertly stirred. This came from Tibet. It seems a shame to melt it down."

But the bars were melted down into a crucible, and thence some of it to a calibrated smaller crucible.

Then it was up to Danny: a charm on the gold; a drop of Damian-juice; another charm; a drop of Danny-juice; another charm; a complicated stirring accompanied by more charms.

The gold was poured in a Muggle ounce-mould and cooled with a wave of Mr Jones' wand.

Then Danny's photo was magically transferred as an embossment on one face, and to the sound of a resounding Clang! the medal jumped into Danny's hand.

Mr Jones knew better than to interrupt a wizard engaged in complicated spellwork, but he was concerned, and spoke now:

"Danny-boy, are you sure you know what you're doing? I couldn't help noticing that you're using body-fluids; some of your non-verbals had a feel of being said backwards; and you stirred using five points, not seven."

"All possible signs of Dark Magic," laughed Danny, "Don't worry Mr Jones: this is going to be used for innocent schoolboy freedoms. But things being as they are, school rules may become tinged with Dark Magic in the future, and I had to teach the medal how to resist it."

This was plausible, though untrue.

What was true was the feel of the medal.

"Just take it and examine it," said Danny.

Mr Jones felt the medal, looked at it with his eyes open and closed, listened to it, smelt it, and finally burst out laughing.

"Youthful high spirits!" he said, "I'm sorry for doubting you, Danny-boy."

"Constant vigilance is never wrong!" said Danny.

He looked at the medal: a splendid portrait on one side, his name on the other; the hackneyed, but important, tag Amor Vincit Omnia around the rim.

He put the medal in his pocket.

"One of you pick my pocket, but don't let me know which of you it is," he commanded.

A moment later, a shrieky voice called: Help I've been stolen from Danny Jorrocks . . . Help I've been stolen from Danny Jorrocks . . .

He turned round to retrieve the medal from a laughing Pavel

"A neck-chain, Mr Jones, please," he said.

Evan Jones obliged, and Danny hung the medal round his neck.

Thirteen more medals were produced, and each one was tested for integrity by Mr Jones. They all appeared to have taken.

The boys were good as gold, as it were, standing absolutely quiet and still while Danny and Mr Jones were doing the work.

They thanked Mr Jones and departed on the Floo to London; thence by Portkey to Yorosk.

Danny had considered treating the boys to another night in London, but they'd had a late Friday night, and an exciting day; besides, there was weekend homework.

They had a late supper and were joined by Mrs Jorrocks, who had travelled with them on the Portkey leg from Moscow.

The boys were full of their experiences and showed Mrs Jorrocks their medals, though they did not give her the full details of their manufacture.

"You're not really going to smuggle these six boys into Hogwarts are you Daniel?" she asked.

"No, Mum. It's a just-in-case."

She looked at Daniel's embossed portrait on the medal again: "I do wish you'd combed your hair, Daniel."

"Sorry, Mum."

They went to the common room, eager to join their friends for a last romp before bed.

"Please can we sleep with Stepan?" asked Boris.

"Sore arse for me tonight," said Brian.

—CHAPTER FOURTEEN— Lachlan Finds a Book and Some Bodily Substances

"I think Sir Robert's the best: he's got a cruel, haughty face and a man-of-the-world, devil-may-care manner; and he's got shapely legs under his kilt."

"Yes, but Frank's kind and, with his square-jawed doggedness, will always pursue his noble calling with dedication; he's much more reliable."

"Who wants reliability? I want to be swept off my feet."

Lachlan was bemused. Who could these girls be talking about?

He glanced over at the group sitting round the next table in the common room and saw that one of the girls was holding one of Nanny's Mills and Boons. It was called The Maiden's Choice.

The girls were exploring a fantasy-world.

He wondered if girls felt the same urges between their legs as he did, then put this unappetising thought out of his mind in order to indulge his own fantasies—no, memories.

He had been bummed four times, and had enjoyed it. It was a different sort of enjoyment from having an orgasm: less intense, but longer.

It had been good when Michael Weeks' cream had trickled out his bum.

He thought of the orgasm that he'd had rubbing against the mattress; and the really strong one he'd had with Jamie sucking his dicky, and his finger wiggling in Callum's bum.

Danny Jorrocks had smelt the twins' fingers.

Lachlan brought his own finger up to his nose, but anything that might have been there must have rubbed off long ago.

He wondered if Danny Jorrocks had watched him having a poo.

That had been good too: being watched; it was nice to be able to share it with the twins. He wondered if Michael Weeks would think it was nice too.

He wondered if Lee Shepherd and James Buckley watched each other having a poo.

His bumhole twitched; it seemed to have as much of a private life as Mountjoy.

It deserved a name: then it had one: Dragonburn.

Mountjoy was very hard.

"What do you think Tibby?"

Sean MacFarlane had said something.

"What?" said Tibby.

"You've been off in one of your daydreams again, haven't you?" said Mac, "We were wondering whether that McLaggen would have hit Potter if the prefect Granger hadn't been there."

"I expect so," said Lachlan vaguely.

"They're not a bad team, Gryffindor," said Houlihan, "But we'll thrash them. The Beaters'll make the difference."

Lachlan looked at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Yes," he said, "I wouldn't fancy our two bludging after me."

"Ride hard and fearlessly charge the enemy!" shouted the Bloody Baron, as he passed above them.

Lachlan was glad that relations between the five boys had surmounted the earlier problems: he supposed it was hard not to grow a team feeling when you had to spend so much time together.

Perhaps it was not such a good idea to bully Abu into bumming him. Lachlan decided to wait for Abu to make the first move. He knew that Lachlan liked being bummed, after all.

"Were those Hufflepuff twins spying?" asked Houlihan.

"I don't think so," said Lachlan, "Just interested like me. It's a great game. I wish I were better on a broom."

"You'll get better with practice," said Clark.

X

They spent most of the afternoon playing—in Lachlan's case, learning—Wizard Chess.

Then it was Saturday night games.

Lachlan had hoped to be able to slip in a little bumming, or to be precise, have Michael Weeks slip in a little Lachlan; but he got engrossed in a game of Multi-Corridor Cricket, and before he knew it the evening was over.

Mountjoy and Dragonburn had not been able to claim his attention.

Papyrus had been watching for the last few minutes.

When the boys and girls turned towards their houses, the cat came and rubbed against his legs.

He bent down to stroke him, but Papyrus moved away and led him towards Slytherin.

But half-way there, Papyrus deviated and trotted up one of the little stairways that Lachlan had explored a week earlier.

He apparently wanted Lachlan to follow, which Lachlan did with See you laters to his friends.

Papyrus led him through a number of passageways, including one that seemed to be underground, to judge by the dew of water that moistened the ancient, algae-covered walls.

At length they came to a door; it was made of strong oak, and had no lock, but three iron bolts.

The bolts slid back easily; they must have been Charmed to stay rust-free.

He pulled the door open, and saw an empty room.

Not quite empty: there was a huge ginger cat curled up by the far wall; it was twice as big as Papyrus.

It blinked sleepily at Lachlan, as Papyrus padded slowly towards it.

Its face looked intelligent but oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into something.

"I wonder what your name is?" said Lachlan.

Papyrus stretched up on his hind legs and patted the wall. Then he sat down by the other cat.

There was a window, but no other door.

Lachlan considered the risk of becoming trapped, but Papyrus had led him here, and the other cat was Papyrus' friend. He could always escape through the Magic Cat-flap.

That was good enough for him: he entered the room and looked out the latticed casement window.

The room appeared to be halfway up the Bell Tower.

He turned towards the cats.

Papyrus immediately stretched and patted the wall again.

The walls were of wood panelling, each panel being about a foot square.

Papyrus had twice tapped on a panel on the second row.

Lachlan rapped the panel with his knuckle.

It sounded hollow; but so did all the surrounding panels.

He tried pressing all over the panel and the battens surrounding it.

Papyrus tapped the same panel and miaowed.

Lachlan took out Crusher and tried tapping in a variety of places.

There must be a Charm . . . or a password: he tapped the panel saying: Hogwarts . . . Slytherin . . . Bell Tower . . . Panel . . . Password . . . One Two Three Four Five.

This was hopeless.

The ginger cat pawed Papyrus and emitted a deep miaow.

"What is it?" said Lachlan, "Do you want me to tap Papyrus? . . . oh . . . to tap Papyrus . . ."

He rapped Crusher on the panel, shouting Papyrus!

The panel opened to reveal a one-foot cube of space. It was lined with lead and contained only one thing: an old-looking book, which Lachlan nabbed.

He closed the panel and looked at the book.

It was in Latin, though it had Egyptian hieroglyphs here and there.

Its title was: De Muggleto Magno which was easy to translate: Concerning the Great Muggle.

The title was as far as he could get. He must work harder at his Latin.

"Let's go back," he said to Papyrus, "Unless you want to stay with your friend."

Both cats followed him to the door.

"Are you coming too, big Ginge?"

When he walked into Slytherin common room late, and with two cats, the new prefect, Andrew Darkham, looked a bit miffed but said nothing.

The magic of SST, he thought.

Five minutes later, he was rubbing Mountjoy, watched by two incurious cats.

Five minutes after that, three happy beings were curled up in sleep.

X

On Sunday morning, Lachlan awoke to find Papyrus and the ginger cat were still keeping him company.

Sunday breakfast!

This week, Lachlan decided to start with kippers, followed by kedgeree—a fishy day, he thought: very suitable for a Slytherin.

He strolled down to the Great Hall.

The two cats followed twenty yards behind, as though they were nothing to do with Lachlan.

As soon as the cats entered the Hall, Hermione Granger screamed from the Gryffindor table: "Crookshanks! You know you're not meant to be here!"

The big cat—were crooked shanks the same as bow legs? —evaded her grasp and darted for Lachlan's legs, winding and purring.

"So you're Crookshanks are you?" said Lachlan, bending to stroke his back.

"Is the white one yours?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, he's called Papyrus."

"He's called Papyrus," Hermione called to the Gryffindor girls who were making much of the little white cat.

"He sometimes visits Gryffindor," she explained to Lachlan, "He's very popular with the girls."

"Crookshanks slept with me in Slytherin last night," said Lachlan, "He was very popular with me. How long have they been friends?"

"Since about the second day of term," said Hermione, "But we must put them out; it's against school rules and I'm a prefect."

"Food hygiene, I suppose?" said Lachlan.

"No, it's ever since the great Animagus panic of Sixteen Forty."

They picked up their cats, put them out the door, and parted with a smile.

"Are ye startin' a menagerie, Tibby?" asked Mac.

"No, the big ginger one is Rufus Scrimgeour; he comes down in his Animagus form to check up on us."

For a moment, Mac and the other boys seemed to believe this.

"Then they burst out laughing.

"Ye're an awfy Tibby," said Mac.

The weather had turned, and there were gusts of wind and drops of rain under a cold, grey sky.

Tibby went to his room and changed into his plimsolls, shorts and Pompey shirt.

He put on his winter cloak and went out to the lawn.

There was no-one there, and he was on the point of going to knock on Hufflepuff's barrel when seven Hufflepuffs appeared, one of them the first-year Jigger, David Mason.

"Can I join in, please?" Lachlan asked.

"More than welcome," said Holmes, a strong-looking sixth-year.

He was not the oldest, but seemed to be in charge.

He had the best legs of the seven: thick and fleshy, with the flesh being muscle rather than fat.

They stood in a circle and passed a ball to each other, soon being joined by two Gryffindor sixth-years: a lithe, black boy called Thomas, and a sandy, freckly Irish boy called Finnigan.

Then Mr Fay appeared, and led them through some more games.

The weather had kept most of the Hogwarts students inside, but a number of little girls (including Wilkes and Bloom) had wrapped up warm and were enjoying the view.

The main attraction was Mr Fay, but there was support for Lachlan as well; they were only interested in Mountjoy, thought Lachlan; and they had poor taste: if he'd been spectating, he'd have enjoyed David Mason and Finnigan most. Finnigan stunk, but it wasn't really offensive.

They were taking a break and lounging on the benches, when the twins appeared.

"Come quick, Tibby," said Callum, "There's something you've got to see!"

Lachlan excused himself to Mr Fay and the others.

The three boys pelted into the school.

There was something that Lachlan didn't dare hope for.

But when they turned into the ground-floor bogs, he started to hope.

The twins steered him into a cubicle, and immediately took off their robes and underpants.

"I'm bursting!" whispered Callum.

He squatted, facing the back, on top of the basin, while his brother crumpled sheets of toilet paper into it.

Then Callum shuffled as far towards the back as he could before his knees got in the way, securing his tenuous foothold by gripping the water pipe.

Lachlan and Jamie had a top-class view of the bumhole.

Callum was bursting: almost immediately, a brown head appeared, but there was no time for subtlety: the turd shot out and landed in the pan.

A bit more followed, then it was over all too quickly.

Callum wiped and swapped places with his brother.

There was another glorious performance, virtually identical to the first, and Callum, who had been rubbing Mountjoy, started to whimper.

Jamie, recognising the danger, clamped his lips onto Lachlan's.

Amid the frenzy of orgasm, it was only later that he realised that Callum had flushed the loo to cover Lachlan's loud residual sounds.

And only later did it occur to him that he had pushed his tongue far into Jamie's mouth; and it had felt good.

"Don't forget," said Callum.

"Forget what?" asked Lachlan.

Callum held up a finger.

"Of course," said Lachlan.

He gently inserted one forefinger into Callum's bottom and the other one into Jamie's bottom.

They separated, and Lachlan went to rejoin the football.

"You look like whatever it was, was worth seeing," said Mr Fay.

Lachlan had a feeling that he understood.

Mr Fay had a nice bump.

They played for another quarter of an hour before the wild weather sent them indoors.

Holmes invited them back to Hufflepuff for cocoa.

The Irish boy sat next to Lachlan, pressing unnecessarily close to him, and demonstrating his boniness. His body odour wasn't so strong once you'd got used to it, becoming a background sweetness with an underlying farmyard mustiness.

Mountjoy was hard, and Lachlan was surprised to feel some sort of link to the pervasive smell.

He learned that the Irish boy was called Seamus.

The other boys gave occasional fleeting glances at the elegant profile of Mountjoy which was visible despite Lachlan's tight underpants and baggy shorts; but Seamus didn't seem to be interested, though he looked at Lachlan's face as often as the conversation permitted.

Seamus was big friends with the black boy, who was called Dean Thomas.

Dean was hard too, though he minimised it by leaning back on the sofa with his legs drawn up. He was interested in Mountjoy.

"Hello, Tibby!"

It was the girl-boy Tintin Wilkes, who seemed to be the guest of some of the Hufflepuff big boys.

He had used the freedom from lessons as an opportunity to indulge his passion for facial make-up to the full; Lachlan thought he was really pretty. He was wearing a pink-and-blue tracksuit which showed that, whether he had a slit or not, he was unquestionably possessed of a dicky.

Heavens! Was everyone hard this morning?

"Hello, Wilkes," said Lachlan, "Is it amateur theatricals today?"

"Don't be bitchy, now, Goodman; live up to your name."

Lachlan laughed: his shirt proclaimed itself as Goodmans.

"I'll try to," he said. "Where's your friend Bloom?"

"Errand of mercy," said Tintin, "He's trying to persuade three boring little Ravenclaws to go Jigging tonight."

"Good for him," said Lachlan, "All the first-years should go, whether they're gay or straight."

"Or neither," said Wilkes.

All this time, Wilkes had been glancing at Thomas, who hadn't returned a single look.

It was time to change for lunch.

As Lachlan, Seamus and a tall, pale, skinny boy called Jimmy Gloyne got up from the deep sofa they had been sharing, Seamus managed a quick feel of Lachlan's bottom.

Lachlan wasn't having that: in a flash, he reached behind him and tweaked Seamus's balls.

Seamus jumped backwards, and landed back on the sofa, whence Lachlan smilingly gave him a hand up.

It seems almost superfluous to note that Seamus had the horn.

X

Lachlan spent the afternoon in the library.

With the help of his Latin dictionary, he started to translate the old book word by word.

It took him a quarter of an hour to render the opening Quia nobis annales et oracula monstrant . . . into But histories and prophecies show us . . .

This was no good: walk before run; he'd better get back to grammar and vocab. Person, Number, Tense, Voice, Mood . . . amem, ames, amet . . .

He had managed to take in all the regular verb forms and a few irregulars, when Michael Weeks sat down at his table.

They smiled at each other.

It was impossible to speak: a big Ravenclaw boy was sharing the table, using half a dozen books in the frantic concoction of a long essay; in any case, Madam Pince might be absent, but the duty prefect was a battleaxe who would send you out the library for a single whisper.

Lachlan wrote on his parchment: See you outside in ten minutes.

Michael nodded and departed.

Lachlan took out Crusher and tried to Erase what he had written.

The words changed to: You ten see outside minutes in.

There was a sort of popping sound.

Abbott the battleaxe said: "What?—"

"I'll get my hat," said Lachlan, gathering up his things.

"That was a short ten minutes," said Michael.

"Something came up," said Lachlan, "And I guess something else came up. Do you want to bum me?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go!"

They set off for Classroom 3E.

"I was watching you play football this morning," said Michael, "You move so smoothly and control the ball brilliantly. You looked so gorgeous I was jealous of those others."

"You could have joined them."

"I'm hopeless."

"Never mind; you're good at Keeping and bumming."

"I do love you, Tibby."

Mountjoy was hard and Dragonburn was twitching.

They reached their target and Lachlan used Crusher: Equal Opportunities!

The door wouldn't open.

He tried again: no success.

Wardy had changed the password.

Constant Vigilance! thought Lachlan.

"I know somewhere else, he said, leading Michael through the four-dimensional maze that made up Hogwarts School.

On the way, he had another thought.

"Michael, when you shoot up my bottom, I don't get to see your cream. Can you wank in my hand today so I can see it coming out and find out what it's like?"

"Anything for you, Tibby."

Lachlan guided them to the suit of armour behind which he and Colin had hidden to watch Ayling and Gunning.

There was a shallow niche behind the armour: just room for two boys to . . .

They reached the spot, and found that someone else had had the same bright idea: Standing up, braced against the wall, was a boy Lachlan knew as Derek Rath, a jolly Jack Tar, popular throughout the school. Also, Lachlan had heard, a pioneering Gay Champion.

He was being bummed by an unknown boy.

The boy had a white face—as white as Michael's, but appearing even whiter under his straight, black hair.

Lachlan was anticipating with pleasure the rest of the boys' fun. He had never seen a bumming before—not that there was much to see, as both boys were wearing robes, just lifting them up enough to get at the action areas.

But even this limited pleasure was denied to him: the boys had noticed the intruders, Derek with a placid wink, the other with a look of panic.

The unknown boy jerked backwards, hastily pulled up his underpants, and ran away along the corridor.

"Avast, Nicholas!" shouted Derek, and raced after the boy, his own underpants clutched in his hand.

"I know Derek Rath," said Lachlan, "But who was the other one?"

"Nicholas Ferro. He's a year below me in Ravenclaw. He's an absolute swot."

"Well, he didn't need to panic like that."

"Wants to keep it secret like me, I suppose."

"Never mind. Room for two. Get it out."

Michael complied immediately.

Lachlan examined the dicky: it must be nearly six inches long; very white; very straight; sticky stuff oozing out the end.

Lachlan took a trial clasp of the dicky.

Michael shuddered and whispered: "Yeah, Tibby."

Lachlan had worked out his technique.

He moved behind Michael, passed his arms around him, and started to wank him with his right hand, while holding his left hand cupped ready to catch the cream.

Michael's bottom started jerking almost immediately; then a spit of stuff landed in Lachlan's hand.

Further splashes discharged themselves, as Michael jolted in all directions; but Lachlan manipulated the dicky as surely as one of Derek's compass-gimbals to ensure that most of the cream was safely collected in his left hand.

Lachlan examined the cream: it was sticky, but not as sticky as glue.

He smelt it and encountered something much stronger than he had smelt from the forest floor or from inside his bottom, though recognisably from the same source.

It was too strong to be wholly pleasant, but there was an attractive quality that made it something to enjoy.

This was the most boyish of all smells, he thought, and his own loins jerked as violently as Michael's.

He pulled down his underpants, exposing Mountjoy.

"Going to suck me off, Michael?"

The boy was down on his knees instantly.

He sucked Lachlan hard, moving his head backwards and forwards.

Unlike Jamie, Michael didn't use a hand to rub Lachlan: he had both hands squeezing Lachlan's bottom.

Lachlan wanted Michael to stick a finger up, but he couldn't speak: he was coming; coming and coming.

The excitement died down, and the boys sorted themselves out before strolling away casually.

There was the sound of running footsteps, and three girls appeared.

"What was that awful racket?" asked one.

"Wizard tournament with Sir Nigel, there," said Lachlan.

He hoped that the girls weren't well enough acquainted with Michael Weeks to know that his normal complexion was not a bright cherry-red.

X

At dinner that evening, Lachlan received a surprise.

The boys were talking about school clubs and societies.

"We haven't got a Debating Society," said Houlihan, "Even the Muggle schools have them. They're excellent training to help you achieve a position of power and retain it."

"You ought to come to JIGS," said Lachlan, "That's nothing but a Debating Society."

"But with a rather limited ambit," said Houlihan.

"You could join to extend the ambit."

"No thanks."

"I'd like to come, if ye dinna mind, Tibby," said MacFarlane.

"Oh that would be great, Mac!" said Lachlan, "What about the rest of you now? Don't let politics put you off: everyone says the Dark Lord allows a free vote on the issue."

There were mumbled refusals, though Clark was perhaps blushing a little.

There were more surprises as he and Mac entered 3E.

Callum and Jamie were there, as were Papyrus and Crookshanks.

Crookshanks was seated on the floor, in a sphinx-like posture, gazing at the boys with half-closed eyes. Papyrus was also seated, and was lazily licking Crookshanks' back.

"Callum! Jamie!" said Lachlan, "It's not my birthday."

"We're here to support you, Tibby," said Callum.

"And everyone else," said Jamie.

They shifted up and Lachlan sat between them.

The two Ravenclaw boys arrived, which meant that all last week's attendees had kept faith with JIGS.

David Ward addressed them:

"Good evening, Jiggers. I'm pleased everyone's back. In addition, as you can see, we've been joined today by three new members: Callum and Jamie MacKenzie from Hufflepuff, and Sean MacFarlane from Slytherin.

"That means that we have twelve members: that's a majority of first-years, and a figure close to last year's when JIGS had thirteen genuine members.

"First of all, I suggest that we all reintroduce ourselves for the benefit of our new members, then the three boys can tell us about themselves."

Before the three boys could comply, Tibby told the meeting:

Lachlan Tibbs from Slytherin. You all know that seven days ago I didn't know what the word meant, but as soon as I learnt, I knew I was a hundred per cent gay. I got myself bummed, this week, and it's a wonderful feeling.

"It is, isn't it!" said Alan Campbell.

Christopher Bloom and Nathan Kirton spoke their agreement.

"Perhaps, you should call it slitting, not bumming, Chrissie" said Gareth Treharne.

Amid the laughter, Christopher told him: "Well, Gareth, as it happens, the entrance to my tunnel of love is as chic an ovoid as any lady might wish for; and you and the other dear boys can confirm that now, if you'd care to."

There was some enthusiasm for this proposal, but Wardy damped it down:

"Boys, there's still plenty of anti-gay feeling at Hogwarts, and plenty of people looking for weapons to use against us.

"Just let them get proof of anything more than talking going on here, and they'll be able to convince people that JIGS exists just for teaching little boys to have perverted sex, and recruiting straight boys to join in."

"What a noble and praiseworthy mission!" said Alan Campbell.

"I was going to propose that we opened each meeting by everyone sucking my cock," said Gareth Treharne, "Looks like that's out then."

"Definitely not!" said Wardy, as they all laughed, "But there are other outlets within the school for getting physical.

Lachlan thought that sucking each other's cocks would, indeed, be a good way to open proceedings.

"Perhaps we could start by kissing each other," he said.

"You've come a long way in a week!" said Gareth.

"Let's put that more feasible proposal to one side for now and get on with the introductions," said Wardy.

When it came to his turn, Mac offered:

Sean MacFarlane, from Slytherin, known as Mac. I'm only here because Tibby's here.

Then came:

Callum Mackenzie, Hufflepuff. Totally non-gay, but here because of my brother and Tibby.

Jamie Mackenzie, Hufflepuff. Totally non-gay, but here because of my brother and Tibby.

"You're good-looking boys!" said Gareth.

"Don't let your faces go to your heads," squeaked little Ruairidh McKay, to applause and laughter.

"Now we know each other," said Wardy, "A reminder of what we talked about last week.

"We talked about puberty, and wanking, and the fact that lucky Tibby, Gareth and Scott get pre-pubescent orgasms.

"Are you three newcomers up to speed on these things?"

"What's this pre-pubescent orgasm thing?" asked Mac, and it was explained by Wardy.

"We can do that," said Callum.

"We had noticed," said David Mason.

"With Tibby, Scott, and Gareth, that makes it five out of thirteen," said Adam Woodman, "Does that mean this is an extra-sexy year, Wardy?"

"You could argue that, with the twins, the real ratio is four out of twelve," said Wardy, "And we've got only a little evidence: there's nothing at all in Muggle or wizard books—let alone anything comparing Muggle and wizard boys, or gay and non-gay boys."

"I've been thinking about this, Wardy," said David, "Would it be possible to grow or learn orgasms? One or two or three years is a long time to wait."

"I've never heard of anything anybody can do, David; but it's still tremendous fun trying. I was in the same situation at your age and I reckon I got twenty percent of the pleasure.

"Now, let's pick up from where we left off last week."

"Are you going to tell us about bumming and sucking?" asked Scott.

There was a little buzz of extra interest.

"Don't rush things," said David, "First we ought to talk about Friendship and Love. I'm going to tell you what the famous Danny Jorrocks thinks about it."

"They were saying in the house that Danny had your anal virginity," said Alan Campbell, "Is that true Wardy?"

"Outside this meeting I would tell you to mind your own business," said Wardy, "But I can tell you Jiggers that, no doubt, Danny took many virginities and, yes, mine was one of them; and I'm very grateful for that."

"And was that his first semen inside a bumhole?" asked Alan.

"Yes, and I'm proud and grateful for that too."

"So when you quote Danny Jorrocks, you must really understand everything that you're saying," said Adrian Woodman.

"I hope so," said Wardy, "Danny says that Friendship is the most important thing in the world. But friendship should always lead to Love and Love to Sex—even if it's only kissing and cuddling.

"Conversely, if you have casual Sex with a stranger, that should, where circumstances allow lead to Love and Friendship."

They discussed this interesting topic for a time before, at last, they got on to the juicier topic of anal intercourse.

Wardy told them everything he knew, and answered a lot of questions.

During this period, it was as if he were giving chair-polishing lessons: the boys were so enthralled that their bums wiggled, their bumholes clenched and unclenched, and their loins jerked up and down.

I was all involuntary, as were the thirteen erections that gave psychic warmth to the room.

At length, Wardy declared time: "It's nearly eight o'clock, so we'll call it a day and leave sucking until next week."

There were calls for extra time, which Wardy refused.

"Oh, please Wardy," said Lachlan, "Just tell us this one thing: if a boy sucks a big boy's dicky and gets cream in his mouth, should he spit it out? Is it dangerous to swallow?"

"Not in the least dangerous, Tibby," said Wardy, "Do whatever you want. As Danny said, quite often, it's all a matter of taste."

On that merry note, the meeting broke up.

Lachlan told his friends he had to see someone on the fifth-floor, but doubled back to try and pick up the password from Wardy.

But the fourth-year mumbled too much so Lachlan ran down to the house and flomped himself onto the sofa where Mac was telling the other boys all about the meeting.

X

At breakfast on Monday, the house was bubbling with the news that Ayling and Gunning were in-patients of the hospital wing with some unspecified complaint.

The senior boys looked glum.

The junior boys speculated on the various infections, poisons or curses that might be attacking the house.

"I expect they've been trying magic that's beyond them," said Lachlan.

He went for a slightly experimental poo after breakfast, and glumly relayed his news at break:

"I tried squatting on the bog," he told the twins, "I'm too big; I can't give you a good view and still get the poo in the bog."

"We could try doing a Wingardium Leviosa! on it," said Callum.

"That's a bit risky," said Lachlan, "And if it splatted on that hard floor from that height, it might be a bit hard to Vanish."

"Let's put our great minds to it," said Jamie.

After lunch, things looked up: the twins entertained him with excellent poos, and the three boys enjoyed the startled look on the the face of the seventh-year Ravenclaw, Bruce Anderson, when they emerged.

During astronomy, as he thought of the twins and himself locked in a lavvy cubicle, he had a sudden insight: Lee Shepherd and the man in the seaside conveniences! That wasn't his father.

He understood now that the man had taken Lee in there for sex. That was how he got the ten pound note.

And he needed money to go on holiday with James Buckley.

Perhaps he feared that, without him, James would get a taste for girls—a fear that had become a reality.

Lachlan felt awful: he had earmarked Lee as his first friend. Of course Lachlan had been younger then; he knew a lot more about life now.

But he still felt that he had let Lee down.

By the end of lessons, they all felt overburdened: Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Slughorn had all abandoned concessions to their condition of being newly-arrived, and loaded them with homework—Professor McGonagall being particularly cruel, as they had to be prepped-up for double Transfiguration first thing on Tuesday morning, without the chance to catch up during any intervening skiveable class.

It was an evening of hard work, ending with a half hour's hard slog in his room after bedtime.

He gave Mountjoy a well-earned treat, and finally fell asleep with Papyrus and Crookshanks, who had gone off together, on their own mysterious errands, for the last twenty-four hours, purring on his bed.

X

On Tuesday morning, several of the Slytherin girls were discussing the mechanics of importing more of the Muggle books.

Perhaps Nanny wasn't so stupid after all, thought Lachlan. Perhaps there really were elusive depths within the books that could be detected only by females.

The news on Gunning and Ayling was that they had suffered a nasty hex, and that what had at first looked like becoming a major investigation, had petered out immediately, as though the powers-that-be had decided that the Slytherin pair was responsible for its own state.

No further action! Snape had reportedly snapped at Miles, when he had raised the subject just before lunch.

Lachlan was sure in his own mind that the hex was connected with the visit of Danny Jorrocks.

At break, he was pleased to see Lee and James at their favourite spot, under the big beech tree.

He went over with Mac and the twins, and introduced Mac to the couple—who certainly looked like a couple now.

"We're all Jiggers now," He told them.

"That's nice," said Lee.

"How's it going with you two?"

"Bloody brilliant! We're sharing a bed every night again. And James is beginning to come."

"Bloody hell! That's early.

"Thirteen next week. He's eleven months older than me."

"And he's not monopolising the talk any more. That's good."

"We came to an agreement: he can't say anything till I give him the codeword."

"Go on, then."

Lee turned to James and said: Sphincter!

"Pleased to meet you, Mac," said James, "And pleased to see the rest of you again."

"Are you really a reformed character, James?" asked Lachlan.

"Yeah, it was all because of that bloody holiday. You wouldn't believe what I put Lee through; he told me all about it.

"We came to another agreement: I get to flirt with girls on Fridays, but that's just to build up a head of steam so that we can have a hot, loving weekend."

"Tell them about singing, James," said Lee.

"Yeah; the only time I can speak without the codeword is if I sing it."

"Go on, James," said Lachlan, "I'm going to enjoy this."

James sang:

Like the beat, beat, beat of the bollocks

When my darling's knickers fall,

Like the tick, tick, tick of the growing prick

As his legs begin to sprawl,

Like the drip, drip, drip of the pre-cum

With the ringpiece showing free,

So a voice within me keeps repeating

Lee, Lee, Lee.

Night and day

Lee is the one,

Only Lee beneath the moon

And under the sun,

In the basement or much higher

It's no other darling lights my fire,

I think of Lee

Night and day.

Day and night

Why is it so

That this longing for Lee

Follows wherever I go?

In the classroom or the dorm

In the weather if it's cold or warm

I think of Lee

Night and day

Night and day

Under the hide of me,

There's an oh such a hungry

Yearnin' burnin' inside of me,

And the pain won't let me be

Till I get to spend my life

Making love to Lee

Day and night

Night and day

The four Jiggers clapped.

They said goodbye to the happy second-years and walked towards the door.

The bell rang, and the Slytherins left for Snape, the Hufflepuffs for Slughorn.

"Are they mad, Tibby?" asked Mac.

"No madder than me."

"That's just about the most ambiguous answer you could've give me," laughed Mac.

Seamus passed, hurrying up the stairs towards History of Magic.

His hand brushed Lachlan's bottom, and fleetingly entered his pocket.

While Snape was giving his usual boring introduction, Lachlan felt in his pocket and found a note:

I'm not gay, but would you like to be my secret boyfriend?

Just you, not the twins.

S.

Interesting.

But the first matter of interest was the SSK meeting that night!

—CHAPTER FIFTEEN— Colin and the Nine O'Clock Club

On Saturday night, the Commandos were due to convene for a general review at eight o'clock, but Adam came to Gryffindor at seven thirty.

He had a good whinge at missing out at the Staff Privileges scheme.

"Adam," said Jonathan, "You're committed to James. There's only one reason for boys to want to get into other dormitories—"

"There's any number of reasons," interrupted Adam, "It might be just social; it might be Commando business; there might be a fire."

"Socialising can be done anywhere," said Jonny, "For Commando business, you can call on any of six boys; and if there's a fire, you can direct water from outside—it's safer that way, anyway."

"It's not being trusted too."

"It's not for us to trust you or not," said Jonny, "We're simply not putting ourselves at risk of having enabled you to commit adultery."

"Look into your heart," said Sea Jay, "Can you really say that, after a few Butterbeers, when you wake up randy in the middle of the night, you wouldn't think of your little Caerwen, a short walk away, with his prehensile arsehole screaming for a stuffing?"

"There's a long way between thinking and doing," said Adam.

"This is Sex, darling," said Colin, "thinking and doing—or trying to get doing—are a Fairy's cock apart."

"Besides, there's a surmounting reason for it," said Dennis.

"What's that?" asked Adam.

"Danny said so!"

"I suppose so," said Adam, "I'll maybe talk to him next weekend."

"You won't get anything out of him," said Jonny.

"Yeah, it's just the pain of being left out of things."

"I know," said Colin, taking his hand.

"How about we make it up to you by giving you a good shagging?" said Dennis.

Even Adam laughed at that.

James Poxon turned up, and they talked Commando business for a while.

Then they called David Ward over and talked about the Nine O'Clock Club.

"Tomorrow!" said Colin, "Who is it again?"

"Clack and Chambers, the ex-secret lovers," said Adam, "And Holmes and Murch, the first Randoms—though they've got a lot in common."

"Mad on sports," said Jonny.

"Fair hair; hunky build," said Sea Jay.

"Legs like tree-trunks," said Dennis.

"I wonder if their pricks are like tree-trunks," said David Ward.

There was giggling and speculation on what was likely to happen.

"We'll all know on Monday morning," said Adam, "Remember: Confidentiality is not an option."

"Can you tell us where it is now, Adam?" said Colin, "Me and Dennis are picked for Monday."

"It's in the toilets on the fourth floor," said Adam, "Tap the door beyond the urinals, and you can go upstairs."

"How did you find it?" asked Colin.

"It's been around since about Nineteen-Oh-Eight. It's called the Hufflepuff Happy Hole.Nathan Slack was in charge, and the plan was for Cedric Diggory to take over when Slack left, but then Cedric got killed.

"At the time, the Hufflepuff seniors were a bit straight-laced, so Nathan left the details with Eddie Carmichael as the most trustworthy senior he could think of, even though he was a Ravenclaw.

"Eddie could be relied on as he was strongly hetero, and of course boys can do nothing with girls at Hogwarts, so Eddie wouldn't be tempted to try and use the place himself.

"Last year he left the Happy Hole empty because the gay dating stuff looked to be covering things, but as soon as Professor Dumbledore put these Charms on, Eddie came up with the Nine O'Clock Club."

"We might get a nice peep on the way," said Dennis.

"I think you'll be extremely impressed with the upstairs layout," said Adam.

Proceedings were interrupted by a loud call from a nearby table:

"Merlin, I'm tired!" said Barry Elliott.

Nick White and Stephen Buckell were yawning and stretching.

"Looks like I'm needed," said David, and he set off with the other three for their Saturday-night romp.

"No need for them to join the Club!" said Adam.

X

Sunday was wet and windy, so the Creeveys played with Dennis's farm things and Chris Gillies' Muggle train things.

Monday was even worse, so they hung about in the Great Hall after lunch.

Adam and James brought over a beefy-looking Ravenclaw fourth-year.

Adam introduced his friend: "Martin Murch . . .—"

Martin interrupted him: "Everyone knows the Creeveys; and the other Mr and Mrs."

They shook hands, and sat down.

"Tell 'em about last night, Martin," said Adam.

"Yeah, please," said Colin, "We're on tonight; we were a bit unchuffed to just miss out being the first."

"Not much to tell," said Martin, "We went to bed and the four of us told each other our stories: me and Harold have been friendly for years. We're both in straight dorms, so when this Nine O'Clock thing came up, we joined and we were higher than Snitches when we got paired up."

"What about Chambers and Clack?" asked Colin.

"Completely different," said Martin, "They'd scarcely noticed each other. Then they met on holiday this year, and the Bludger of Love hit them.

"They couldn't do anything, because of all the parents and brothers and sisters; then they got here and it was a nightmare: different houses, different years; so the Nine O'Clock was like a miracle."

"Was the sex good?" asked Colin.

Martin laughed: "It was more than the sex. Fair enough, me and Harold tossed each other off, which was what we'd both joined up for. But what surprised me was how nice it was sleeping with a big warm friendly body to snuggle up against, even if it was farting all night."

"I know," said Sea Jay.

"Specially with all this—you know—going on," said Martin.

"Worthwhile, then?" asked Colin.

"Yeah, definitely."

"What about the other two?"

Martin laughed.

"I kept waking up through the night. I don't know whether it was Harold's farting or the noises from next door; but, anyway, whenever I woke, one or other of them was shagging the other. I nearly fell asleep in English 'n' Latin. God knows what sort of a state they're in."

The other boys laughed too.

"A shag with someone you love is worth a dozen detentions," said Sea Jay, squeezing Jonny's hand.

"I can't wait till tonight," said Dennis.

X

"Coming Ritchie?" said Colin.

It was ten to nine.

Ritchie Coote, the big seventh-year, was standing casually looking at the Gryffindor notice-board.

He blushed and slunk after Colin and Dennis, through the portrait hole—You boys! said the Fat Lady—and along Gryffindor corridor.

"This is embarrassing," said Ritchie.

"Don't worry, Ritchie," said Colin, "It's just boys having fun together."

"And next time, it'll seem normal," said Dennis.

They got to the lavatories on the fourth floor, and saw Craig Alexander, hovering outside.

"See!" said Dennis, "He's as nervous as you."

The boys met, and the two Randoms shook hands.

"Er . . . Hello Craig, isn't it?"

"Er . . . Hello Coote—er . . . Ritchie—Is that alright?"

"Course it's alright!" said Colin, pushing the two through the door and into the brightly-lit room.

Michael Summerby, guitar-case strapped to his back, was standing at a urinal, doing up his flies. He ignored the incomers.

"Alright, Michael," said Colin.

"We came to escape Voldemort," said Dennis, "He's loose in Hufflepuff."

There was no reaction from Summerby: he calmly walked through the four incomers, brushing them here and there and not noticing a thing.

"That's some Charm!" said Colin, "Good for Hermione."

The lads stopped to take in the layout: four stalls and four wash-basins to the right; six urinals to the left, stopped at the far end by what looked like a giant corner-cupboard.

Colin tapped the door of the cupboard and opened it revealing a steep staircase.

They ascended the stairs and emerged into a carpeted room.

Colin's first thought was for the beds: there they were: directly above the wash-basins and door area of the floor below.

There were two beds, with headboards against the back wall.

The sides were protected by the left wall and two fixed curtains.

There were two movable curtains that allowed access via the foot of the bed.

Only when Colin had absorbed the arrangement of the beds did he look at the layout of the room.

He and Colin laughed immediately: they knew what the layout meant: there were six library chairs to the right, and four to the left.

The brothers checked the floor areas in front of the chairs. As expected there were holes leading through the floor.

These holes led through the elaborate plaster-work of the lavatories below. There were lenses which gave a slight magnification.

Sitting comfortably, the happy Hufflepuff boys would have had excellent views of the boys pissing; pooing would be less spectacular, but in the stalls, there would have been plenty of wanking and an occasional coupling.

No wonder the lights had been so bright.

"That's what they meant by observed external activities," laughed Colin.

Craig and Ritchie had to have the situation explained to them.

They reacted in different ways: Craig with interest; Ritchie with embarrassment.

"Just think, Den," said Colin, "Between classes the boys from Englat, Maths, and Muggles would be passing the door, and every time, some would drop in and give the Hufflepuffs an eyeful: that's thirty boys, Den!"

"Forty, if there's weather and they have to use the gym."

The brothers thought about the delights that had been available to gay Hufflepuffs for eighty-seven years.

Colin felt a craving for his little brother's bottom.

"Shall we go in, Den?" he asked.

Dennis turned to the other two: "Left or right?"

"Er . . ." said Craig.

The brothers went to the left-hand bed, stripped, and hung their clothes on the convenient hooks.

Under the green night-lamps, they lay on their sides and had a long snog.

Then Colin was kissing Dennis all over, repeatedly returning to his bumhole, and finally settling there for a spell of prolonged tongue-work.

After a lot of fingering, Dennis lay on his back and said: "Make it quick, Col; I'm getting frantic."

So Colin pushed himself slowly into Dennis and drove in and out slowly, but with a long stroke.

But slowly or not, Dennis was indeed frantic, and, having valiantly suppressed the cries of pain that wanted to emerge as Colin widened his ringpiece, started a series of moans and screams which would have delighted any passing member of the Muggle Inquisition.

Having reached a pinnacle, he lay, alternately panting and kissing his brother.

Colin, meanwhile, was continuing at a steady pace: he wanted it to last as long as possible—if not for ever, then at least a lot longer than those hectic standing-up pokes he'd been so often forced to make do with recently.

It was some time before he felt the bliss of the approaching orgasm; his racket, when it came, surpassed Dennis's; but the intensity of his love was probably exactly the same.

There was a sudden stillness, broken only by Colin's gasps.

"Are you okay?" said Ritchie from next door.

Both the brothers jumped: they had forgotten that they had neighbours. There was no need for shyness or for a fear of offending: these neighbours were there for the same purpose as the Creeveys.

"Fine," said Dennis, "Have you emptied your bollocks yet, in a jocular or stimulatory way?"

"Not really," said Craig, "We couldn't keep up with that!"

"It's not a competition," panted Colin, "You just do whatever you want."

"We don't know what to do; we were talking about it when those noises started."

"Well, if you're in bed, naked, hugging each other, you're ninety percent there already."

"Shall we take off our underpants, then?"

"Good idea," said Colin, as Dennis quivered a little with laughter.

"Shall I take off my socks too?" asked Ritchie.

"If you're totally naked, it's—what's that word, Den?" said Colin.

"Nude?" said Dennis.

"No," said Colin, "When something means something else. Anyway, it's like saying you've left the normal world behind; there's just the two of you in your very own world, There's no need to be nervous."

"I got a shock," said Ritchie Coote, "I was sucked off twice by Danny Jorrocks."

Craig gave a slight cry of amazement; the Creeveys did not react, knowing that, in Danny's pomp, this had been a normal experience for many boys.

"It was in the bogs below," continued Ritchie, "And I'll always be wondering if anyone was watching."

Colin laughed: "Oh honestly Ritchie! If anyone was watching they wouldn't be saying Coote's a queer, let's tell everyone they'd be wanking and saying Coote's hot stuff with a lovely cock."

Craig said: "Danny sucked me, too."

"Where? In the bog?" said Colin.

"No, it was in Mrs Englishen-Latin's class."

"And no-one saw?"

"No; we were reading and acting Merchant of the Rialto, or something, and Danny and I were offstage in the broom-cupboard. Danny pushed me against the door, and stretched up and kissed me."

"Quite right!" said Dennis, "Sinful to waste an opportunity like that."

All this time, Colin had been lying comfortably on top of Dennis, with his brother's ankles affectionately crossed around his neck.

Colin withdrew to allow Dennis to stretch, and the boy let rip a fart which sprayed stuff all over the place.

"You messy bugger!" laughed Colin. "Oh; that was nothing to do with you, Craigie. Please go on."

"Well, I'd never kissed a boy before, and it was nice," Craig continued, "Then, before I knew what was happening, Danny dropped to his knees and had my cock in his mouth.

"And that was unbelievable. I went off like a Roman Candle. When it was our cue to go onstage, I still hadn't got over what it felt like.

"At the end of the lesson, Mrs Englishen-Latin said I'd acted with excellent emotion and gave a point to Ravenclaw.

"I was looking forward to a bit more cocksucking from Danny, but he left a couple of weeks later."

"Er . . . I'm not sure . . ." said Ritchie.

"You don't have to do anything," said Colin, "Why don't you just kiss goodnight and sleep close together? That's what me and Dennis are going to do, aren't we Darling Den?"

"Mmm . . . Night Craigie . . . Night Ritchie." said Dennis.

Colin and Dennis snuggled up and lay in peace and contentment.

Soon he could feel Dennis's breathing change to his steady sleep-pattern.

Soon after that the gentle snores of Ritchie Coote could be heard.

Colin hoped that he was being psychically comforted by at least having an arm around him.

X

Next morning, Colin shook Danny awake at ten to six.

They kissed and lay still.

They could hear a rhythmic rustling from the other bed.

It sounded very much like someone having a wank—two people in fact.

The brothers quickly made it four people.

At five to six, Colin shouted: "Time to get up, boys!"

They dressed, emerged from the two beds, and said good morning.

The place smelt of spunk and sweat.

"The house-elves'll have plenty to do," said Colin.

"I wonder if Hufflepuff's Happy Hole is open out of hours," said Dennis.

They went back to their dormitories and awoke innocently an hour later.

After lunch, the MQC's convened on the lawn.

"Before we say anything, Ad," said Colin, "I think you should bring Tibby into the Nine O'Clock Club; he's our man in Slytherin after all."

"I think you're right, Colin," said Adam, "He told us about the culvert and the Depello; and he's getting Staff Privileges."

Adam looked slight stern as he uttered the last of this, but his husband was blithely unaware of any nuances.

Colin ran over to Tibby, who was standing with the twins and the big Scotch boy with the dark-red hair.

He drew Tibby aside, and said: "There's something you should know, and Adam Watts-Poxon is going to tell you."

They walked over to the others, and Adam told Tibby about the Club and inducted him.

He let Tibby have a look at the list.

Then he came out with the news that had been bottled up inside him: "We've had our first resignation."

"Oh No!" said some of the lads.

"Who?" said Jonathan.

"Derek Rath."

They couldn't believe it.

Then Adam put them out their misery: "He's resigned as a Random and applied to join as an Established with Nicholas Ferro."

"Who's that?" asked Sea Jay.

Adam pointed: "Ravenclaw fourth-years: the one with the black hair and pale face."

"Is that the sultry one he was hoping to get?" asked Colin.

"And succeeded," said Adam.

"He certainly is sultry," said Sea Jay.

"Me and a friend caught him bumming Rath yesterday, said Tibby, "He was upset and ran away."

"Hufflepuffers don't muck about, do they?" laughed Jonny.

"Good old Derek!" said Dennis.

"What about last night, you two?" said Adam to the Creeveys, "Did everything go well?"

"Yes," said Colin, "Ritchie and Craigie, shared Mr Palm and his five sons; and me and Dennis spent a night in Heaven."

"There's one complication, though," he continued, "Danny's coming this weekend, so me and Den may have to breech Rule One about breaking curfew, or maybe not show up at all. Does that mean we get expelled?"

"No of course not!" laughed Adam, "No-one's going to expel anyone—especially our darling Creeveykins. Eddie's quite relaxed about it: we've got some good protective charms, and that's all we need."

"That's a point, Adam," said Tibby, "Everyone in JIGS is on your list except the MacKenzie twins. That means we can't talk about the Nine O'Clock club at all. Is it possible to induct them like you inducted me, please?"

"Of course, Tibby," said Adam, "Would you three want to become participating members as well?"

"We'll have to talk that over."

"What about other boys in Slytherin? Do you know of any other boys of the right type who might be interested?"

"There's actually quite a bit of underground gay stuff already; involving boys of the right type and the wrong type."

"Well, keep your eyes open, anyway."

"Will do—Oh, there's another thing: do you think Danny will want me or the twins this weekend?"

"Did you meet Danny?" asked Jonny.

"Yes, me and the twins met him on Saturday morning."

"What did you think of him?" asked Colin.

"Wonderful. But I knew that already because of what he did for gays and being your brother and his plan for Staff Privileges. He must be a powerful wizard. It was really cool walking about with him and no-one else could see or hear him."

"So you know that if he wants you, he'll find you," said Jonathan.

"Better send those twins over, and I'll induct them now," said Adam.

He just had time to do it before the bell went.

X

Colin had Snape after lunch.

They all agreed that never was there a tougher lesson; nor tougher homework set.

O.W.L.'s were proving to be a major burden.

Colin and the other Commandos had little time for anything but work and sleep.

They just about found time to listen to Dennis's second-hand relaying of the Nine O'Clock gossip.

Gideon Buchanan had reported that the first-year, Adrian Woodman, had wanted nothing but to feel him all over, and fell asleep doing it. Then, in the morning, Gideon had kissed him, and Adrian wouldn't stop the kissing, and they hadn't got away until nine thirty.

Tom Leggatt and Paul Grindell, far from being the new item that everyone had assumed them to be, appeared to have been frequenting the lavatories for most of the two years that Paul had been at Hogwarts.

Tom's long-standing depredations on Paul's bumhole had been given new, joyful life by the freedom to take their first shags in comfort.

Chris Gillies was able to come now, and had been so excited at being able to genuinely share his semen, as opposed to having it dribble into his pants at the sight of a pretty girl's face, that he had squirted against Nathan Kirton almost as soon as he had kissed the lad.

And Nathan, fascinated had examined the semen, quizzed Gils about it, and wanked him off so he could see its emergence.

He was as analytic about it as if he were in Ravenclaw, Gils had told Dennis, but he had a lovely touch.

As for the other pair, Peter Jones was a press-ups machine, and everyone knew how loud Caerwen Morgan could scream . . .

At Friday break, they were able to get direct reportage from Alexander:

"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.

"What about the other two—Michael and Cho?" asked Colin.

"Love's the word there too," said Alexander, "I don't know about sex, but they spent all the time whispering to each other: I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you . . ."

"Aw," said Sea Jay again, and grabbed Jonny.

They kissed briefly, and Jonny said: "I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you . . ."

This romantic interlude was interrupted by the bell, indicating that it was time to encounter the less romantic figure of Professor Slughorn.

"Love is in the air," said Colin to the Couple, as they entered the Potions Classroom."

Before long, the Draught of Peace was in the air.

—CHAPTER SIXTEEN— Hi Honeys, I'm Home!

Danny and Brian lay in bed.

It was quite early, but they had each had a busy night and day.

They were lying face-to-face, each with an arm about the other—not their usual going-to-sleep position, as they both knew that they would have sex together first.

"Good fun," said Brian.

"Yeah," said Danny, "Mr Jones was brilliant, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. Knew everything."

"He made me feel a bit guilty about not joining Dad's business."

"Gay school's much more important."

"We've saved eighteen boys, but maybe Dad's saved more indirectly."

"Not gays."

"Yeah, we mustn't forget that. It all comes down to Love. All our boys grew up without Love; and we've given them Love."

"I love you."

"I love my Brian more than the whole world."

They kissed, at first gently, then more passionately.

Their willies pressed together. Danny felt the sudden rush of passion that always made him feel as if the two boys were alone in the world, and about to dive into the middle of a whirlpool.

"Gonna bum me?" asked Brian.

Danny could feel the fierce emotional and physical need within the boy to have his lover deep inside him, achieving his joy, planting his life-juice.

Danny himself felt his own version of that need, coupled with a sense of wonder that Brian should have fallen in love with him.

Brian had pulled Danny on top of him, and lay with his legs apart, stroking Danny's back.

Now, he drew his knees up and raised his bottom.

Danny reached for his wand, and as so often before, invoked Lubricio!

Then his practised willy, knowing the right position and angle, pushed at the gate to Heaven and forced its way inside.

Inside his mind he could sense Brian's joy combining with his own into an all-embracing rapture as willy and bumhole rubbed against each other.

For a time Danny moved slowly, wishing this moment could last forever, and almost believing that it would.

Then the approaching ecstasy led him to move faster and more forcefully, until, crashing into Brian, the intoxicating thrill of the climax was upon him.

And Brian was sharing everything.

As Danny's body pounded uncontrollably, Brian's joy followed and reflected Danny's.

He pumped his seed into Brian, delirious with their joint Love, and afterwards relaxed in a Love that was still as fierce, but without any need for physical expression.

It was positively the best shag he had ever had, its pleasure amplified by the closest ever Togetherness with Brian.

Brian's joy had been physical as well as psychical.

Brian had been yelling as loudly as Danny.

Brian had had a genuine orgasm!

It was a sacred moment, and both lads knew it.

Unaware of the material realities of gasping, sweating, clasping bodies, and basic bodily products mixing together, Danny whispered the only words that could come close to describing the state of affairs:

"I love you, Brian."

"I love you, Danny."

X

Next morning, Danny awoke with a sense of joy that had continued, seemingly without break, from the moment he went to sleep.

He was relieved that their sons had been fast asleep when Brian had come: otherwise, in the excitement of the moment, they would have abandoned Stepan and come running to their bedroom to exult and celebrate.

But he should have known better than to think that the twins wouldn't pick it up: he sensed the moment they woke up and realised what had happened.

They must have done a mental toss-up because, leaving Boris holding Stepan in his arms, Pavel came and witnessed, with happy shouts, Brian bumming Danny and achieving his second orgasm.

Some of the other boys detected this, and it was a happy Sunday breakfast that day: boys shouting congratulations, kissing Brian and volunteering to give him an immediate repeat.

The problem-child, Stepan, had joined in the general jubilation; he had broken, some way at least, out of his autistic cocoon.

Danny retired to the quiet room after breakfast and considered his Offensive Charm for dealing with the culvert.

The concept was quite easy: if anyone but the wizard casting the Charm touched the stone, a Stinging Hex would hit them.

The first decision was on the strength of the Hex: it had to be strong enough to force the enemy to drop the stone, but not so strong as to cause him to pass out.

Innocent students had to be considered too: it was quite possible that boys and girls might pick up a stone in the course of play or Nature Study. The Hex would need scaling down so that it comprised merely a strong hint to drop the stone.

But then a determined enemy would be able to endure the Hex for long enough to carry the stone away.

After some thought, he had the solution: a Crescendo Charm: the Hex would be minor when first materialising, swiftly growing to an unbearable level.

He would need to consult the literature and Professor de Castro on this; also on the likely effect of the running water.

As to the nature of the Hex: his instinct was to go for the genitalia, as being the most sensitive quarter of the human anatomy.

There was a possibility, however, that the enemy might deploy witches, and he didn't even want to think about the revisions that this would entail.

He decided to go for the bumhole—slightly reluctantly, as he didn't want to have a sort of trade-mark approach to magic.

Having sorted the stones out—goodness, he seemed to have spent an awful lot of time thinking about stones of one sort or another recently—he gave his mind over to the problem of Stepan.

The situation had been improving steadily, but it was the twins who had, out of intuition, come up with the final touch: a touch of Love.

Stepan, raised in a loveless environment, had been allowed some time to act out his aggressions.

Now he had responded encouragingly to a physical and mental enveloping cushion of Love.

Danny decided that this would be the treatment for the foreseeable future: Stepan would spend each night sleeping with a pair of boys whose emotions towards each other were of concentrated love.

Five suitable pairs existed: as well as the twins, there were: Pyotr and Alexei; Nicolai and Yuri; Danny and Brian; Ivan and Sergei.

He explained matters to the boys at dinner, pointing out Stepan's need for special affection.

They were all in agreement, and the nominated couples were full of enthusiasm, the brothers, Petya and Alyosha, immediately shifting to sandwich Stepan at the meal; accompanying him at play and homework; and willingly going to bed early so that he was never alone.

They were not the only early retirements: Danny tended to sit up with a book for half an hour or so after his family had gone to bed, but tonight he couldn't get to the bedroom quickly enough: all four boys were eager to explore Brian's new-found capabilities.

It was a particularly loving four-boy sprawl that got off to sleep that night.

X

It was a good week.

After discussions with the Headmaster, Danny ended up with a cracker of a Defensive Charm.

On Wednesday, he went down to the riverbank with Yuri to try it out on a harmless stone.

The Charm was easy to do, confirmed its presence with a brief flash of light, and did not cause too devastating a pain in the bum on initial activation—as reported by the brave Yuri.

Danny was enormously impressed with Yuri: apart from being a brilliant wizard and a natural leader, he had shown himself to have a kind heart and an infinite capacity for Love.

And, as he matured, his arsehole had developed a whole range of scrumptious odours.

Having checked that he had Reversed the Charm correctly, he returned to the castle with Yuri and sent:

Darling Brothers and Couples,

6 MQC's meet me on front lawn Sat 9.00 AM & we will sort out that outstanding matter.

The SP scheme looks good.

Your nephews, your brother-in-law and all the others send their love

B. gets a climax now, but no stuff yet. You'll be milky any day now, Den, if you're the same as me.

From your brother Danny. E4PH.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Now that Stepan was no longer ultra-reliant on Danny, it would be no longer necessary for him to accompany Danny to Hogwarts. This saved potential complications.

Stepan himself created one last wrinkle to be ironed out.

On Wednesday evening, he made a public apology to the other boys for his aggression.

"I'm one of you from now on," he told them.

His carers for the day, Ivan and Sergei, cuddled him, but he had not finished yet.

"It's my new start, but I must start without bad things left unfinished. I was very bad to Veniamin and Alexei, and Danny should give me the cane for it; then I can start with a clean sheet."

Danny thought quickly and decided that this was best gone through with: of course Veniamin and Alexei, like everyone else, had already forgiven Stepan, but Danny felt that a caning would convince him that his bad deeds had been totally expiated.

"The cane was your present to me, Stepan," he said, "Mine to use as I see fit. I am going to use it this way: Veniamin will give you two strokes on your bare bottom: Alexei will do the same; then I will Vanish the cane to show that I believe no other boy in this room will ever deliberately harm one of his comrades again."

Stepan apparently agreed to his punishment, and exposed his bottom before bending over a chair.

Accio Cane! said Danny, and the cane flew from Danny's cupboard into his hand.

Danny gave the cane to Veniamin, saying: "Two strokes, Veniamin."

"I don't really want to . . ." said the confused boy.

"Just two; and then the matter is closed forever," said Danny.

Veniamin took the cane.

Swish! Smack! came, the two sounds, almost simultaneously.

Swish! Smack!

Danny whispered to Alyosha: "Hard. So he knows he's been fully punished.

There were two red lines just visible on Stepan's bottom.

Alexei took the cane, positioned himself and brought it down with immense force.

Swish! Smack!

An involuntary squawk came from Stepan's mouth and, also involuntarily, he wriggled from the pain.

Alexei repositioned, and having had a practice, seemed to find some extra strength.

Swish! Smack!

This time the squawk was a scream.

Stepan's eyes were watering and his hands were on his bumcheeks trying to rub away the pain.

The boys all clustered round to have a look and kiss it better.

Danny Vanished the cane and had his own inspection.

The marks were a bright purply red, and were already coming out in bumps, welts, weals, or whatever they were called—and Danny hoped he would never need to know what they were called.

There was Dittany in the medicine cabinet, but Danny wanted to be sure that Stepan felt properly punished. It's for your own good, boy! he remembered from a Muggle school story.

Danny had a stiffie as, he guessed, did most of the other boys.

The relationship between sex and violence was not straightforward.

Danny remembered reading of a schoolmaster from a quarter of a century ago. A headmaster, in fact; the headmaster of the very, very top Muggle school. He had enjoyed beating boy's bare bottoms. When the beating was over, he ordered the boys to hold their position, and wanked himself furtively into a handkerchief—at least, he thought it was furtive, but the boys knew and eventually enough boys reported him for the governors of the school to allow him to move to the headmastership of a lesser school.

It was all a bit weird. The best thing in theory was to have no violence at all, but there seemed to be a little something in every boy that enjoyed hurting or being hurt; or both.

The next couple of days went very well with Stepan.

He became genuinely close to Veniamin, and the two boys drew into their orbit the tall, Yefim: three or four years older than them, and still recovering from an unspeakably horrible youth.

Yorosk was healthy; and Danny was in a cheery state of mind as he set off for Hogwarts on Saturday morning, shrewdly omitting the breakfast of whose benefit the Portkeys were likely to deprive him.

X

The Married Quarters Commandos were pacing the lawn when he arrived.

He took the Creeveys inside his Disillusionment, and after the kissing and cuddling told Colin: "Get the other four to go for a romantic wonder down the far side of the burn. Then come back to me and Den."

He made Colin visible for long enough to do this, then the three brothers, under Disillusionment, went to the broom shed and collected a school broomstick.

He was tempted to use Malfoy's monogrammed Special Edition, but played safe with a model designed to be manageable by first-years.

They walked down to the culvert, and Danny removed the Disillusionment.

After more kisses and cuddles, Danny taught the boys his Offensive Charm.

The boys stripped naked, and Danny set the Couples to work on the Hogwarts stones.

Then he got Dennis, the best flier amongst them, to ferry Colin, then himself, over the boundary wall.

He found a foot-wide blue spot painted by the bank. This must be the point up to which a preliminary survey had decided stones should be cleared.

They got into the water and systematically Charmed every stone that could be classified as larger than a pebble.

Since there was no carrying involved, they were finished in less than half an hour.

Dennis ferried them back onto Hogwarts territory, and they set out to assist the other four.

The five Gryffindor boys were glancing frequently at James Poxon, whom they had never seen naked before.

He was a fifteen-year-old boy, so of course he was beautiful; they were looking for something extra that might enable them to view him through the eyes of his perfectly-formed husband.

But to them, he was just another gorgeous individual who was part of a collective of gorgeous individuals.

Danny reflected that, even allowing for Hufflepuff extravagances, James was probably the most bummed boy in Hogwarts.

Danny laughed to himself: James would lose that title as soon as Seamus Finnigan got himself a boyfriend.

At last they were finished.

Danny created a draft of hot air to dry them and warm them up.

Willies started to stiffen, but unfortunately, James was still flaccid when he dressed, so they didn't get to see his stiffie.

"Where now, Danny?" asked Colin.

"First of all, you'd better have these."

Danny handed over the boys' medals.

"With these," he said, "You should be able to get into any dormitory, in any house, at any time. We'll have to test them before I go. Now a cup of cocoa in the Great Hall, I think."

"What about David's and Tibby's medals?" asked Jonathan.

I'll hand these over personally," said Danny.

Ten minutes later, having returned the broomstick, they were all cupping their hands round the cocoa, while the current students brought the Old Boy up-to-date on the latest Hogwarts events.

"Fourth-floor lavvies, eh?" laughed Danny, "I've had a lot of fun there. I wonder how often there were gaping eyes above me."

"Ritchie Coote wondered that too," said Colin.

"Oh, he told, did he? A very repressed boy. I'm glad the blessed Eddie's given him the chance to broaden his scope. I bet both his studies and his Quidditch benefit from it too."

Dennis had been pondering the big issue.

"When are we going to, you know?" he said, "Me and Colin have been saving ourselves for you."

"Funny you should say that," said Danny, "I've been saving myself for you. But this morning, an alternative struck me: what about the second-year and fourth-year dorms?"

"That would be fun," said Dennis, "And fair," he added.

"We did promise Alexander's lot that the very first night we could, we'd go to their Dorm," said Colin.

"And Euan's saving his back passage for me," said Dennis.

"And it is Saturday . . . But . . ." said Colin.

"It's such a big But Colin, darling," said Dennis.

"As an independent," said Jonathan, "I do the sums: should it be three happy boys or twelve happy boys—well, eleven unless that delectable little Paul Smith's open for business?"

That seemed the clinching argument.

"What about the rest of the day, Dan?" asked Colin.

"Well, I hope you lot are going to put in a solid afternoon on homework and study. It's O.W.L.'s year, or in your case, Den, the year in which you should try and catch up a bit on Charms theory."

"Tyrant!" said Sea Jay, "Do you nag all those lovely Russian boys?"

"They don't need nagging: they've had hellish lives, and they're grateful for being given a chance."

"Point taken," said Sea Jay.

"You're right, Danny," said Adam, "We must all work harder."

"What about your day, Dan?" asked Colin.

"Lunch with Professor McGonagall—"

"What!"

"She needs to know what Slytherin's up to," said Danny, "Then I'll spend the afternoon in the library, where I have several things to look up. You won't see me. Sometime I'll look up Tibby and end up back in the dorm."

"You might see Tibby in the library," said Jonny, "He's often there."

"Okay," said Danny, "I'd better report to the Professor. See yer later."

X

Professor McGonagall was aghast at the latest preparations for an assault on Hogwarts.

She and Danny both knew that the Headmaster should be detecting such potentially catastrophic matters.

She was disappointed that Danny could shed no light on the Headmaster's agenda, which included withered arms, periods of absence, and private sessions with Harry Potter.

Still, the beef sandwiches were good.

The rest of the day went as planned, though he noticed that Tibby's cat, Papyrus, who was sitting on Tibby's knee in the library, had seen through the Disillusionment Charm.

It was Tibby, in fact, who arranged Danny's dinner in the kitchen, and sat, fingering his new medal and talking magic with him, as they worked their way through too much Dragon Lasagne.

They only touched on Sex once, Danny checking that David Ward had taught the Jiggers the Lubrication Charm, and giving Tibby a rundown on the positions available for anal intercourse.

They said their warm goodbyes, and Danny went to inspect the venue of the Nine O'Clock Club before going to see what was happening in the Gryffindor common room.

On the whole, he decided that this year's first-years were a bit less with-it than last years.

They'd catch up eventually, he was sure.

At nine o'clock, half an hour before the official time, the Gryffindor fourth-years left the common room and went to bed—or at least to the fun and games they enjoyed every Saturday night.

Danny was ahead of them, Disillusionment off, stark naked and lying in his old bed.

How long would it take them to notice?

The four boys entered, and Nick White said: "Can you smell something like Danny?"

Danny chuckled inwardly: he hadn't showered for ages; he must pong like Seamus.

But his hopes of going unnoticed were now blown: the mention of Danny's name had automatically drawn four pairs of eyes to the bed, and then four voices called DANNEE! and four bodies jumped onto him.

"Hi honeys, I'm home!" he said.

—CHAPTER SEVENTEEN— Lachlan Explores Some Flesh

At five to seven, Lachlan left the common room and walked to Study Room 1.

He noticed that people avoided his eye. There certainly was a superstitious dread attached to the SSK's.

In the room, Zabini, Harper, Winter, Baddock and Lachlan sat around the table.

Zabini opened the meeting and recited the gay poem, followed by the other four, Lachlan not needing a prompt-card this time.

Zabini declared the meeting closed.

There was a sense of expectation, and the other boys were darting glances at Lachlan.

Tongue in cheek, he pushed back his chair, and rose to his feet.

Seeing that he was the only one, he said: "Is it okay to go now, Zabini?"

"Er . . ." said Zabini.

Harper laughed.

"I think what the reticent Zab means is that we'd all like a look at your cock, Tibbs," he said.

"Really?" said Tibby, "You too, Zabini? You weren't going to admit to anything last week."

"I'm not admitting to anything this week either. I'm just interested."

"That's not good enough. We're all gay boys who've been given a chance to have fun together."

Lachlan could almost see the words I'm not gay readying themselves to emerge from Zabini's mouth, but the boy held his peace.

"If we're not all in it together," said Lachlan, "Then we don't exist as a gay group at all. It's all up to you, Zabini."

"Er . . ." said Zabini.

"It's quite easy; just say the words: I am a gay boy, and I am the leader of a gay group."

The normally cool and arrogant Zabini gulped, but stammered out the words.

"Well done Zab!" said Baddock, "Now get your cock out for the lads, Tibbs."

"You're obviously happy enough being in a gay group, Baddock."

"Yeah, it's nice being able to talk about it, isn't it Chris?"

"Yeah," said Winter.

"Then you two'll be willing, anyway; and Harper, I guess: Let's all get our cocks out. In fact, let's all get ourselves nude."

"Er . . . there's no need for that" said Zabini, "Just this."

He drew out his dicky. It was limp and brown.

"Come on lads, that's not enough!" said Baddock, and started to undress.

Harper and Winter followed readily enough.

Zabini still showed some reluctance.

"I'll match you, Zabini," said Lachlan, taking off his robe and standing in front of the bigger boy.

At last Zabini seemed to relax and take some pleasure in the position.

They removed their garments, one-for-one, with the snooty Zabini actually smiling.

By the time he was starkers, there was only one part of him that was not relaxed: his coffee-coloured shaft, topped with its blobby purple tip was sticking hard out in front of him.

Lachlan felt lust and the desire to see Zabini's dicky shooting out cream.

He bent and took Zabini's dicky in his mouth.

Zabini must have thought his birthday had come: he gave a croaky cry and put his hands on Lachlan's shoulders.

But this was just a moistening foray, and Lachlan was straight up, and behind Zabini, reaching round to wank him with one hand and feel a nipple with the other.

Zabini had big nipples topping flabby mounds of flesh.

They felt fabulous.

Lachlan manœuvred Zabini so that his dicky was over the table.

As he was slowly rubbing the nice, brown dicky, Harper moved behind him.

Lachlan felt his bumcheeks being parted.

He expected, and hoped to get a good bumming, but Harper pushed his face in and, with deep inhalations, started to sniff Lachlan's Dragonburn.

What a brilliant idea! Lachlan decided to try this out at the first opportunity.

But then Harper's sniffs changed to . . . could that be his tongue?

Harper was actually licking his bumhole. The dirty sod! Lachlan might just have done a messy poo.

Mountjoy was hard as flint now, and Winter and Baddock, were crowding around to have a look.

But Lachlan's chief focus was on Zabini who, with each stroke from Lachlan was shooting a globule of creamy stuff onto the table.

Lachlan wondered if Michael Weeks had produced as much. If he had, it was no wonder that it it had been leaking out of Dragonburn all that afternoon.

He had some of Zabini's cream on the web between thumb and forefinger. He smelt it, then tentatively tasted it.

He reserved judgment.

But now, it was time for Harper to show his stuff.

There was a bit of a mêlée: Lachlan was trying to shift Harper so he could be wanked off over the table; Harper himself was diverted by the sight of Mountjoy; Winter was wanking Mountjoy efficiently, while fighting Harper off; Baddock, seeing that Lachlan's bumhole was free, was trying to insert a finger.

Lachlan finally managed to barge Harper into position and began rubbing him.

Harper was of mixed race. His skin was an unattractive greyish yellowy-brown, but his almost-black bum was pretty and his brown dicky felt good in Lachlan's hand.

After two strokes at Harper, Lachlan felt himself coming.

This was not surprising: apart from the agreeable contact with Harper's dicky, Winter was proving himself to have a lovely touch, and Baddock had one—or was it two—wiggling fingers deeply inside Dragonburn.

"Arrgh!" he screamed, then made more of his weird noises.

"Shut up!" he heard Zabini say, "People will hear!"

"Arrgh! . . . Six . . . Oh! . . . Rings . . . Ugh! . . . for the Boy-Keepers . . ."

He continued to rub Harper who suddenly, keeping silent, shot out two little globules onto the table.

Lachlan did the smell-and-taste test.

Again, something individual to Harper.

Lachlan decided that semen was a jolly good thing.

Winter knew what was required of him, and moved into position for Lachlan to reach for his dicky.

Winter's dicky was the same yellowish parchment-colour as the rest of his skin.

Lachlan's rubbing-stroke was made irregular by Baddock, who had replaced his fingers with the tip of his dicky, and was pushing inexorably upwards.

Baddock's dicky was fatter than Lachlan would have expected; again he felt that deliciously satisfying pain.

Baddock began to ram Lachlan powerfully, enforcing on Lachlan a rhythm which he used for rubbing Winter.

Then things went off-kilter: Winter was having an orgasm—Lachlan could see the spurts landing on the table.

But all the orgasmic shouts, grunts and squeals were sounding deafeningly in Lachlan's ear.

Then things fell into place: Baddock was another boy who was blessed with massive pre-pubescent orgasms.

When things had quietened down, Lachlan sampled Winter's output: Good God! Was it yellowish in flavour too?

They flopped down in chairs around the table.

Harper had been careful to find a chair next to Lachlan, and was holding his dicky in a tight, protective grip.

Zabini had had the longest time to recover.

"Good work, Tibbs," he said in an incisive, military manner, "We all of us, wherever we happen to be, now have a way of telling whether or not we are being eavesdropped; without the need for wandwork, either."

"Good work, Tibbs!" said Baddock, "We're going to have a lot of fun this year. Shame it's only once a week."

"Who says?" said Tibby, "We could let it be known that, with the coming of the Dark Lord, more frequent SSK meetings will be necessary. I'm sure Zabini can sell that story to the seniors."

"I don't feel totally happy about using the Dark Lord's name in such a way," said Zabini.

"We're Slytherins," said Baddock. "Cunning is expected of us."

"We can't go turfing students out of this room," said Harper.

"We don't have to," said Lachlan, "There is one study-bedroom unallocated because the only candidates are pairs. If that were reserved solely for the SSK's we could have impromptu meetings whenever we wanted. Winter and Baddock could bum each other even when Pritchard's loose about the house; Harper could have girly sessions without waiting for party-nights; I could cop lots of bummings—I enjoyed that, thanks, Baddock."

"You're welcome, Tibbs," said Baddock, "What about it Zab? Can you swing it for us?"

"I'm going to try," said Zabini.

He was actually looking cheerful.

X

Next morning's double Charms did not see Lachlan at his wizarding best. He found concentration difficult, as he daydreamt of oceans of semen, queues of boys waiting to bum him, turds slipping out of dozens of bumholes, Winter and Baddock going forcefully at each other.

He had to find someone to bum too.

His ideal would be Callum and Jamie; but as he thought of Mountjoy painfully stretching their tiny bumholes, he felt a wave of protective tenderness.

No, it had to be a big boy.

Through some residuum of heterosexuality, he found himself thinking of the girly boys, Bloom and Wilkes; but their bumholes were hardly likely to be large enough to accommodate Mountjoy.

Then by a leap of imagination he came up with a possible solution: he'd already had an offer from a big boy; and Seamus, though not in the least effeminate, was hardly the most macho boy in the school.

Besides, he had made a point of telling Lachlan that he was not gay, in which case, what sort of boy was he?

He must be a secret girly boy.

At lunchtime, Lachlan went to the owlery and sent:

Dear Finnigan,

I'm gay, but would be willing to be your open boyfriend.

At weekends you could dress up and be a proper girlfriend.

Just you, not Thomas.

T.

He also sent:

Dear Weeks,

See you at the armour after lunch on Thursday.

T.

Then he ran to meet the twins in the first-floor bogs for poo-poos.

Unfortunately, the twins could produce nothing for him, although his finger detected stuff in the queue.

Then it was hard work for the rest of the day. Lachlan forgot about sex and concentrated on subordinate clauses, though occasionally raising a finger to his nose in an absent-minded way, and noticing, equally absent-mindedly, subdued amusement from the twins.

Lachlan spent the evening in the study-room next to the library.

He reaped the benefit on Thursday morning, with good performances in double DADA, Potions and double Herbology.

The downside was that Professors Snape, Slughorn and Sprout loaded them with a ton of homework which threatened to eat up much of the weekend.

Lachlan resolved to spend all day Saturday clearing his homework so that he could have a good game of football on Sunday morning and take the opportunity to discuss the availability of girls' clothing with Seamus.

As long as Seamus didn't drench himself in those scents, as Wilkes so revoltingly did.

Meanwhile there was a good bumming to come.

"Hi Michael," he said when he reached the statue.

"Wait a mo, Tibby," said Michael.

He waved his wand in an arc, calling Muffliato!

"That's on the illegal list isn't it," said Lachlan, "What's it do?"

"Stops us being heard."

"Come on then, Michael: knickers off and kiss me!"

The boys embraced and pressed together.

Lachlan had become interested in the concept of kissing. Wardy had talked about it at the JIGS, and Lachlan knew that there must be something in it.

A something which he now discovered: Weeks was hardly the most experienced teacher, but as their tongues roamed inside each other's mouths, Lachlan felt the warm oral sensations working in conjunction with, and so as to enhance, the lustful urges of his sexual area.

Weeks must have felt the same, as he gave a sob of pleasure and jerked his stiff dicky against Lachlan's tummy.

Don't come now, Michael he thought, and broke off the kiss before going to brace himself against the wall.

He felt Michael position himself, then Michael struck immediately, battering into Lachlan's back passage.

Lachlan gave a spontaneous shriek at the awful pain.

Wardy had told them about fingers and spells and ointments, but Lachlan thought that he preferred an almighty pain that was so bad that there was an extra-special joy when it lessened.

Maybe he would have to have a rethink when he dealt with bigger dickies, but for now the feeling as Weeks shagged him brutally was one of boundless satisfaction.

Weeks was also wanking Lachlan, synchronising his hand with his jabs inside Lachlan's bottom.

Mountjoy had gone a bit limp at the moment of supreme pain, but was now as stiff as he could be, working in partnership with Dragonburn to raise Lachlan to physical and transcendental heights.

Michael was panting heavily, but his pants changed to vocalisations as he reached his climax.

Softly, his throat produced a high-pitched Ah . . . Ah . . . Ah . . .

This was very sensuous, and Lachlan started to come himself.

Lachlan's noises were much, much louder. He could hear them echoing along the corridor.

He couldn't stop himself: the intensity of the moment, the pleasure, the sense of release were simply too great.

When Lachlan finished, Weeks was still having a last few pokes.

He really must have produced a phenomenal amount of spunk, perhaps more even than Zabini.

When the echoes had died away and the pleasure had diminished to a warm, fuzzy afterglow, Michael withdrew slowly and the boys separated.

They each pulled up their underpants—Lachlan put on a second pair that he had brought with him—and adjusted their clothes.

"Let's have some more kissing," said Lachlan.

They snogged until the bell rang, and walked downstairs together.

Lachlan thought about the Muffliato! Since there were echoes, the Charm must affect the listener, not the actual sound.

He could work this into his essay for Professor Flitwick; then he remembered that Muffliato! was illegal.

They parted with Michael murmuring I love you in his ear.

Lachlan smiled and said nothing.

What could he say?

He didn't understand love: it seemed to subsume infinite variations of intensity, possessiveness, exclusivity, jealousy.

Even the Muggle fiction—proper novels as well as Mills and Boon—couldn't really explain it.

X

At Games, they had Quidditch practice for the first half hour.

Then Madam Hooch organised them into three teams, with little Rose Zeller, a second-year on a free period making up the numbers (a Honeydukes chocolate bar being the usual reward).

The best fourteen players were used to construct two new teams for a higher-quality final.

Needless to say, Mac made the final and Lachlan did not.

Lachlan sat with Alan Campbell and Ruairidh McKay, watching the game.

"Tibby," asked Alan, "Why are you wearing two pairs of underpants?"

"You been looking up my robe," said Lachlan.

"Well, firstly: everyone takes every chance they can to look up your robe," said Alan.

"And secondly," squeaked tiny Ruairidh, "If you keep turning upside down on a broomstick, what can you expect?"

"So, getting back to the point," said Alan, "Why are you wearing two pairs of underpants?"

"I'm leaking a bit at the back," said Lachlan, "And I'm trying to stop it dripping out."

"Got the trots, eh?" said Alan, "Madam Hooch would give you a Remittatur."

"It's not the trots; it's spunky-spunk."

"Wow! Is there a lot?"

"It keeps oozing out."

"Lie on you tum and let me feel."

Lachlan lay face down, and Alan unobtrusively slipped his hand underneath Lachlan's Quidditch-robe.

"You're soaking!" he said.

Then he raised his hand to his nose.

"So that's what it smells like," he said.

Lachlan drew Alan's hand to his nose.

"It's stronger when it comes out," he said, "But that's been up my arsehole, and I think the cloth on my underpants has weakened it—Oh, your hand's cold!"

The last exclamation was due to Ruairidh having reached inside Lachlan's pants, between Lachlan's bumcheeks, to try and find some uncontaminated fluid.

They all had a sniff at Ruairidh's hand.

"It's even stronger than that if you get it straight from the cock," said Lachlan.

"I think we ought to petition Wardy to show us," said Alan.

"At the start of every meeting," said Ruairidh"

"Wardy's not a bad looker under all that hair, is he?" said Alan.

They spent the rest of the lesson discussing David Ward.

X

Lachlan's good resolutions went to pot that evening: for some reason, a Gobstones school started in Slytherin, ending up as a house-wide tournament.

By the time the overall winner had been established as the house captain, Miles (what a surprise) it was bedtime.

Could do better thought Lachlan, reflecting the comments he had received on several essays.

On Friday and Saturday he did indeed do better.

He could look forward to Sunday with a clear conscience.

He would have a game of football, a session on the mysterious book, and with a bit of luck, get to shag Seamus Finnigan.

He enjoyed his chat with Danny Jorrocks, and rejoiced when the longed-for medal was hanging around his neck.

He went to bed early, setting his Muggle alarm.

At midnight, he crept out of his bedroom, left Slytherin and went up the stairs to Hufflepuff.

At this very moment, he remembered, Alan Campbell would be Nine O'Clock Clubbing with the Hufflepuff fifth-year, Johnny Rudd.

The Hufflepuff boys had told him that this Rudd was a quiet, innocent and wholesome boy.

Lachlan approached Hufflepuff, and at the other end of the corridor, saw another naughty boy.

He recognised him as Matthew Hinton, a big blond ex-Jigger, and one of Wilkes' admirers.

"Hello Tibby," he said.

"Hello Matthew, can you let me in, please?"

Following Danny Jorrocks' advice, he was prepared to let it be known that he could get into alien dorms, but not that he could get into alien houses.

"Yeah, sure," said Matthew, "Who you meeting? The MacKenzies?"

"Yes."

They passed through the common room.

A few late birds waved him a cheery hello; Saturday night, he thought, I should have left it later.

"The twins are in their dorm, I suppose," said Matthew, "I'll bring them through for you."

"No need; I can get into their dorm."

"Clever you."

Matthew did not seem surprised. He must be a particularly unimaginative boy.

"I'll see you to their door," he said, leading Lachlan down one of the cute little tunnels.

At the door, Matthew asked: "Tibby, before you go in, can I see you with your pants down, please?"

It would have been ungracious to refuse, so Lachlan dropped his underpants.

He expected the boy to home in on Mountjoy, but he was solely interested in Dragonburn, bending down to sniff him deeply.

Then his tongue came into play.

He had a more powerful tongue than Harper, and seemed to have actually got it some way inside.

He stood up and smiled, saying: "That's pretty good for a first-year."

Lachlan opened the door and walked in.

"Goodnight, Matthew."

"Goodnight, Tibby."

He found an empty bed; then a bed with two people in it.

Both boys were asleep.

Jamie was lying on his back.

Callum was lying on his side, kissing his brother's cheek.

Lachlan presumed that, while still sleeping, the brothers would turn through ninety degrees and reverse rôles.

Never mind Rudd: Lachlan had never seen anything so innocent and wholesome in his life.

It seemed a shame to disturb them, but it was in a good cause.

He undressed and slid in between the boys from the bottom of the bed.

They were naked.

He prodded his way up the bed until he was lying on his back between Callum and Jamie.

In their sleep, they each kissed him on the cheek.

Lachlan reflected that he had been at Hogwarts for only three weeks; and had had so many adventures and so much fun.

And there were thirteen more weeks to go this term!

He had come a long way.

He had a sense that he was beginning to understand about Love.

—CHAPTER EIGHTEEN— Colin and Six Happy Boys

Nine o'clock found the Creeveys and Euan Abercrombie approaching the fourth-floor loos.

They went upstairs and found Scott Fong, checking the happy holes.

They introduced themselves and shook hands.

"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."

They went without delay to the beds.

Colin and Dennis put pyjamas on over their underpants.

They had decided to remain as fresh as possible for Danny, while keeping faith with the Nine O'Clock Club.

This imposed a heroic task: to share a bed for the night without spurting their loving juice over and inside each other.

They settled into bed, and opened their books, intending to read themselves to sleep.

The green night-lamps at Hogwarts, being magical, gave out an illumination that was good enough for reading, but not bright enough to deter sleep.

Colin was reading Coffin, Scarcely Used and Dennis, Captain Bounsaboard and the Pirates.

Colin's mind wandered away from his book, however, as he listened to the sounds coming from the next bed.

There was a rustling, then Scott's voice came: "Ugh! . . . I don't do that!"

Colin was surprised: it was not like Euan to make a dive for someone's bumhole.

There was some more rustling, and Scott was complaining again: "Come on Euan!"

"No," came Euan's voice.

"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."

Silence.

Then Euan's voice: "Gerroff! That wasn't a proper kiss."

Colin was amused, and could feel Dennis shaking beside him. Euan was not only a true gay boy, but a true Gryffindor.

There was more silence, and after a minute or so, some slurpy noises that suggested that perhaps Scott was enjoying things too.

This was confirmed when both boys started groaning with pleasure.

A rhythmic rubbing sound indicated that the boys were wanking—from the occasional heavy shifting of bodies, Colin guessed that they were indulging in that clumsiest of activities: heavy snogging accompanied by mutual masturbation.

Suddenly, each boy was having an orgasm.

Oh! Oh! Oh! whimpered Euan, deafeningly.

"Get reading!" whispered Dennis.

With the stiffest possible penis, Colin tried to concentrate on his book.

Eventually he managed to read himself to sleep.

X

Morning came, and with it the sounds of conversation from the boys next door.

"Go on; you'll like it," Scott's voice was saying.

"No; there's only one boy allowed to do that," said Euan.

Colin was touched: the highly-sexed boy was saving his bumhole for Dennis, even though as far as Euan was aware, there was no immediate prospect of the two of them sharing more nights of bliss.

Scott was not too disappointed: soon the sounds of the two boys reaching another masturbatory Paradise echoed around the room.

Colin and Dennis congratulated themselves at breakfast on having stayed unrubbed all night in honour of Danny, but when Colin actually saw the boy himself on the lawn, he came within an ace of following through with his pre-cum and having a spontaneous full-scale spurt into his underpants.

The period of working naked at the culvert helped him calm down.

Then the plan changed: Dennis and Colin were now saving themselves for the second-year dormitory.

Colin found that the prospect of being with Alexander that night made doing anything—eating, peeing, homework, playing—difficult.

At last the magic moment came.

The fourth-years had voluntarily gone upstairs early, preceded by the Disillusioned Danny.

Now the cry went up from the prefects: Second-years to bed!

Colin and Dennis were sitting with the second-years, who set up their usual bleats: Just five more minutes to finish the game . . . You sent us up early on Friday . . .

"I'm a bit knackered," said Colin, yawning and stretching his arms ostentatiously.

"Me too," said Dennis, "I'm for bed."

The brothers rose, and seeing this, the second-years yielded gracefully to the prefects' demands.

"We'll see you to your room," said Colin.

When they got to the third floor, where the second-year dormitories were situated, the boys expected the Creeveys to continue up the staircase.

When Colin said: "We might as well see you into your room," they laughed at such a comic impossibility.

When the brothers actually entered the room, there was a stunned silence for a moment, then a Babel of laughter, cheering, comments, questions and dancing.

Above the noise, the authoritative voice of the tall James Carter made itself heard.

"Shut up everybody!" he shouted, "Plan A!"

The boys quietened down and moved into what was obviously a well-rehearsed routine: James' and Peter's beds were pushed, next to Alexander's; mattresses, sheets, swansdown under-sheets and duvets were given Enlargement and Conjunction Charms; pillows were heaped at each end.

The result was a bed capable of accommodating six boys—seven, as it turned out, because pretty Paul Smith, who had hitherto held himself apart from the more sexual antics of the dormitory, had willingly subscribed to Plan A, on the understanding that not too much would be expected of him.

"Come on, Colin!" said James, and Colin found that the other boys were already half-undressed.

He hastened to catch up, and soon there were seven excited, happy naked boys in the room.

Colin and Dennis were displaying their goods in prime condition: their willies were very erect, and Colin was drooling pre-cum.

Then he and Dennis had to stand still while the other boys inspected them.

All the boys had different priorities: James could not keep his hands off Colin's willy; Euan was equally fascinated with Dennis's; Peter was alternating between the two brothers' bumholes; Paul was just looking at everything; and his own dear Alexander was playing with Colin's nipples, and occasionally kissing them.

Then the boys had to be inspected themselves.

They were all erect; it was a celestial display.

Paul Smith had the most beautiful, bottom, as befitted the boy with the most beautiful face. He had a tiny bumhole which reminded Colin of Nick White's—though that had been subject to frequent enlargement since Colin had last seen it. Paul had a little boy's willy, of the pencil variety, but, as with all little boy's willies, full of its own individuality.

Peter Jones had the biggest bottom—A big nail needs a big hammer he told people who remarked on its size. And Peter did have a big hammer for a twelve-year-old: not so much in length as in thickness; it was no wonder that Caerwen Morgan couldn't get enough of it. Colin found that, in the middle of his big bottom, Peter was concealing a big, dirty-looking bumhole. The boy was emanating some attractive smells. Colin hoped he would be able to have a snuffle round. Colin, like Danny Jorrocks approved of boys who didn't shower too often.

James Carter was the biggest surprise: a big penis—as big as Dennis's— and a thin fuzz of pubic hair. But it should not have been that much of a surprise: Colin remembered that Sea Jay, when he was still Chris Harris, had turned up for his second year with a substantial bush.

"Can you come yet, James?" he asked.

"Only a couple of drops," said James.

His dorm-mates expressed wonder.

"You kept that quiet Carter," said Paul.

"I was waiting till I could do a big shoot," said James.

Colin felt James' balls: yes they would be shooting gallons before long.

Colin looked at James' bum. Each cheek was long and thin, as was the bumhole between them. James' bum felt firm, but supple; there was terrific muscle-tone: James was a star athlete and sportsman.

His Alexander was . . . well, Alexander. Colin inspected him as he'd inspected the other boys, but comparisons—even judgments—were impossible: Alex had given himself, soul and body, to Colin, so, Like Dennis and Danny, was perfect in every way.

Little Euan was also perfect. His cheerful demeanour had a hint of fear and vulnerability behind it, which made people want to mother him. The sight of his pencil-prick and compact little bum added strongly to Colin's own mothering instincts. He did not even look at Euan's bumhole: Euan had dedicated that holy of holies to Dennis.

The boys got into bed and extinguished all lighting except for the Magic Lantern which was only visible to Colin, and which gave just enough illumination for him to read by.

Apart from Euan and James, none of the boys had strong sexual feelings—and James' feelings were directed towards girls.

But all five boys enjoyed erotic games; and equally they enjoyed lying in the dark listening to Colin reading ghost stories.

Tonight was special: they were together and in the nude.

James, Colin, Alexander and Peter were at one end of the bed; Euan, Dennis and Paul at the other.

Colin lay, propped up, with the book held in his hands.

Alexander lay against one shoulder, and James against the other, both of them on their sides.

James had always been a physical boy, pressing closely against any boys (and, sadly, girls) he was sitting with; often placing an arm around the shoulders of any boys he was walking with; and often hinting—once requesting—that Colin spend the night in his bed.

Now, abandoning prudence, he had curled his fingers around Colin's willy.

Alexander, aiming to do the same, had met James' hand, giggled, and come to an accommodation. Neither of them attempted to rub Colin, presumably feeling—as did Colin—that orgasms should be approached slowly that night.

Colin and Dennis had their legs interlaced. Colin could smell Dennis's feet within the mix of fairly mild smells that reached his nose.

He could smell Alexander's hair, another boy's feet, James' armpit, and an elusive touch of willy-niff. Could James be that mature?

Colin felt complete relaxed, though sexually tense. There was such an aura of happiness in the room.

He began to read:

The last day before Christmas was over. A clear winter's night had set in. The stars twinkled in the sky. . . .

A shiver of excitement gripped the group, as the boys conjured up the wintry scene, with the witch leaping out of the blacksmith's chimney.

Almost as soon as Colin began to read, Dennis and Euan began a slow, loving snog.

Colin felt sorry for Paul Smith, lying on the outside of the bed, listening raptly to the tale. In an ideal world, Paul and Peter Jones would be cuddling and pleasuring each other.

Poor Peter was also stuck on the outside. He seemed a little fidgety, though and Colin guessed why: Alexander had given a slight squirm and giggle: Peter's hands were busying themselves about Alexander's naughty bits.

Colin read on, the next disturbance being a kicking and crushing from Dennis's legs.

Glancing up, Colin saw that Dennis's head had disappeared; its shape could be seen under the bedclothes, heading directly towards Euan's middle portions.

Colin could tell when Dennis began to suck: Euan gave a little honk, followed by a loving gasp of enjoyment.

Peter's head had disappeared too, and Colin could see it rocking about in the area of Alexander's bottom.

Euan's squealing began quietly, and became loud enough to force suspension of the reading.

There were plenty of screamers at Hogwarts, but Euan was one of the loudest and longest.

Perhaps the champion; perhaps the best screamer ever, though there were rumours that, a couple of years ago, a Slytherin first-year had made himself audible from one end of the Forbidden Forest to the other.

No sooner had Euan quietened down, than there was more general disruption as Dennis turned round, raised Euan's legs over his shoulders, and crouched to apply his face to Euan's bottom.

He began a noisy sniffing, licking and sucking at Euan's bumhole.

Reading remained suspended.

Everyone, including Colin, was too diverted by the hot sex to concentrate on Colin's tale.

Euan giggled and lurched. His horn was coming back.

Alexander behaved similarly to Euan, but in his case, it was probably due to Peter's tongue licking the interior of his anus. After a year servicing Caerwen, Peter was a master of bumhole-pleasure.

When Dennis felt the moment was right, he raised himself, taking Euan's legs with him and pushed his penis smoothly inside Euan's arse.

Colin was reminded of one of Danny's quotes: He grabbed the boy and slipped him onto his dick like a well-worn glove

Colin was half-minded to shift himself so he could poke his face between Dennis's bumcheeks, but found himself too constrained: Alexander had moved so that he was lying diagonally on top of Colin.

The bed was soon bouncing merrily as Dennis's bum flickered to and fro.

Euan was making little encouraging noises and pulling Dennis deeper inside him with one arm.

One arm?

Colin looked to see where Euan's other arm was: he was holding hands with Paul Smith.

This was so sweet: the two boys were confirming their friendship, and Paul was being allowed, at one remove, to share the joy of an intimacy that he couldn't stomach directly.

With multiple whoops, Dennis started an orgasm, and was joined by Euan, experiencing a noisy, exuberant second helping.

There was laughter and ribaldry as the boys settled down for the resumption of the tale; but that was still some way off.

Alexander had arched his back, and taken hold of Colin's willy.

With a slow and purposeful motion, he lowered himself, and Colin felt his willy being squeezed as it entered inside the boy.

When Colin started shagging movements, he found that he was just pushing Alexander up and down, and not getting a lot of willy-friction.

This had an important advantage: the shag would take longer; and the longer he could spend doing it with his sweet Alexander, the better.

As he lay on his back, bouncing up and down, with Alexander's head on his shoulder, surrounded by loving boys, he felt in Heaven.

He hugged Alexander more tightly, and reached down to feel the boy's willy, but this was currently inside the mouth of Peter Jones.

Poor James, who had held on to Colin's willy for so long, was now denied access to it; and to Alexander's.

Colin wanted to do something for James.

He had a mouth free, and would offer James a suck.

But events overtook him: his long delayed orgasm was here.

He felt the thrill of the first ejaculation.

Then, holding Alexander tightly, he shook the bed violently as burst after burst of his juice exploded deep inside the boy.

He felt such a sense of satisfaction that he was shouting things without knowing what the words were.

Amid the confusion he picked up I love you from Alex, and echoed the words when things had quietened down.

He lay for a while, conscious that the other boys were stroking and patting the happy couple.

Then duty called and he picked up the book and started reading:

On hearing this the devil, who had been lying motionless for a long time, began to jump around in the sack . . .

As he read, he was aware of the exact moment when Alexander fell asleep.

Then the other boys nodded off one by one, and it seemed that only Colin, Dennis and James were awake by the time that he reached the end of the tale:

Look at the horrid devil . . .

Colin turned on his right side, easing his willy out of Alexander, and releasing what sounded like a torrent of waste liquid.

He moved Alexander into a more comfortable position for sleeping, noting with joy and amusement that, even in his sleep, Peter kept his mouth wrapped around Alexander's genitals.

The unknown foot-smell was very strong.

Colin soon had it pinned down to Paul Smith: Peter had moved along the bed and, in his sprawl, put his left foot was where Paul's head should be.

Paul had shifted down the bed and one of his feet was near Colin's nose.

Colin took it gently and drew it to his mouth, sucking on the first three toes.

From behind, James put an arm around Colin and groped for a nipple.

Then he felt James' stiffie creeping between his bumcheeks and nudging his hole while James played with his nipples.

Then James' penis was inside Colin, and his hand was creeping downward.

Colin knew that another orgasm was on the horizon of a beautiful landscape.

He reviewed the position:

He was holding lovely Alexander, being shagged and wanked by James Carter, and sucking Paul Smith's toes.

Alexander was being sucked by Peter Jones in his sleep; and Peter was being sucked by Darling Dennis; and Euan Abercrombie was fast asleep with his cock up Dennis's bum.

How could things be in any way better?

"Is there a Plan B?" he mumbled.

THE END