Not everyone can gain a place in their house Quidditch team.
But every first- and second-year boy and girl can—indeed must—compete in the Junior Broomstick Cup.
The only excuse for default is a signed certificate from Madam Pomfrey stating that the witch or wizard is physically incapable of competing. The question of mental incapacity remains undecided and controversial.
Inequity in numbers is covered by scoring via average times per person.
As well as sessions during Games, each house had its own evening for practice and instruction under the supervision of Madam Hooch.
Thursday was Gryffindor's night, and Colin Creevey, having kept abreast of his homework through the week, wandered down to watch his brother Dennis, and the rest of the juniors—most notably Alexander Bell, Colin's number one fan: a sad, shy boy who had suddenly achieved happiness through Colin's publicly-avowed friendship and mild physicality.
Spectators were few: fifth- and seventh-years, including Mandy Brocklehurst, Dennis's sort-of girlfriend, were involved with exams; not even Gordon Twist and Andrew Merryweather, sixth-year patrons of Simon Hibbard, Dennis's flame-haired classmate, had turned up.
There was a scattering of juniors from other houses, assessing the form; and a few solitary senior boys, their hands inside their robes, assessing another sort of form: no doubt, they were visualising the bud-like chests and tight little slits that lurked beneath the girls' Quidditch robes.
The layout of the course looked innocuous: seven Muggle football goals laid out consecutively.
The requirements were fiendish: a horizontal slalom between the right-hand uprights; an Immelmann turn into a vertical slalom between the crossbars; another turn into horizontal three-sixty-degree loops around each pair of uprights—alternating clockwise and anti-clockwise; a final turn into similarly-configured vertical loops around the crossbars.
The second trips out and back were complicated by the requirement to one-handedly pick up and pocket fourteen inch-cube cushions called Snitchlets.
Each run was timed, and seconds added for touching the goals, missing a Snitchlet or failing to complete—the last fairly common, as dizziness tended to set in early.
The record time was thirty-two seconds, but most players, including Alexander and Dennis, were in the forties and fifties.
"Well done, mate!" said Colin, as Alexander staggered over to sit down next to him.
"Wait there," said Alexander, "I need to concentrate on not being sick."
Natalie Macdonald and Jimmy Peakes had already said ta-ta to their dinners.
Colin putting an arm around Alexander, but otherwise ignoring him, shouted: "Go Andy!"
It was incredible that such a good broomsman as Andrew Kirke should be so awful as a Beater.
Alexander had one more go, and improved a bit, as did most of them.
Gryffindor were turning into quite a good team—maybe not good enough to defeat Hufflepuff, the reigning champions, but a good outside bet—if only you could find someone to bet with.
Lee Jordan had run the book for the last four years, laying the odds shrewdly and making a substantial, but reasonably fair, profit.
This year, Lee was up to his neck in N.E.W.T.'s, which he took much more seriously than his friends, the Weasley twins.
A big Slytherin sixth-year called Claude Miles had partially stepped in: he was, uninterested in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but was offering four-to-one against Gryffindor doing better than Slytherin.
This was unwise to the point of lunacy: Slytherin were without their star, Brian Hudson, who had absconded from the school; and the watchers from the other three houses had reported that the rest of the Slytherins were useless—really useless.
Money had poured in and Miles was holding a magically-protected chest rumoured to contain over a thousand Galleons.
At the end of the practice, Colin was even more confident, and glad that a Slytherin boy was going to take a hammering.
As everybody walked towards the broom shed, Dennis said to his brother: "It's a lovely evening, Col; why don't you and Alex go for a walk?"
"I don't want to push him, Den; he's only a bab."
"Just a walk—you've got to be alone together some time."
"Fair comment, O wise one!"
He called over: "Alexander, fancy a little stroll?"
What a silly question! he thought.
X X X
They went for a circuit of the lake. It was the same route as he had taken with the much-missed Yuri, but Colin omitted the lying-down bit: everywhere was a little damp after some days of rain.
"I wish we could hold hands, Alexander," he said, smilingly looking down into his friend's eyes—not very far down, though, as the boy had grown a lot since September the First.
"So do I, Colin. There isn't actually a rule on walking with your arms round each other, is there?"
"She didn't actually say, but in the current climate—you know."
"Even your friends Sea Jay and Jonathan only did legs; if they'd gone round hugging, would they have got away with it?"
"That toad-faced Troll-turd wouldn't stand for something as warm and human as that!"
They walked a bit further, then Alexander said: "Colin?"
"Yeah?"
"You know Sunday?"
"Yeah."
"When you kissed me, you touched my tongue with yours. Is that what snogging is?"
"It's part of what it is, Alexander. It means being friendly and loving each other. Did you like it?"
"Yes. Can we do it again?"
"I'll read you another story on Saturday."
"Can we do it now, please? We could go just inside the Forbidden Forest. It wouldn't be dangerous if we went just inside."
"I know somewhere that's nearer and definitely safer."
He led Alexander behind the broom shed. This was a popular spot for smokers and smoochers.
Happily, there was no-one there tonight, and Colin enfolded Alexander in his arms.
The boy reciprocated, but, whereas Colin had placed his hands modestly on Alexander's back, the boy unequivocally grasped Colin's bum.
Colin was pleased at the lad's boldness; then he thought it was maybe not so bold: Alexander was merely following Colin's example, as, a few nights earlier, Colin had been fondling Alexander's bare buttocks—and, for good measure, tickling his bumhole.
He shifted his hand down and squeezed.
Having a standing-up fondle made him realise how tiny Alexander's bottom was. He must remember that the boy was only twelve, and, not having a sex-mad little brother to encourage him, was totally inexperienced.
He touched noses and kissed Alexander's top lip.
The boy opened his mouth wide, as though he were at the dentist's.
Colin ignored this, and kissed the bottom lip . . . then the top . . . then the bottom. Then he stuck out his tongue, and very, very slowly licked around the boy's lips, first one way and then the other; and then again, introducing a little flutter.
When Danny Jorrocks had first taught him this a year earlier, Colin had thought it the sexiest and most loving thing that two boys could do to each other. Although he had since learned many other places where lips and tongue could be applied, some part of Colin knew that his original judgement had been correct.
After these preliminaries, Colin whispered: "Close your lips."
He pressed his lips to Alexander's, at the angle required to avoid squeezing their noses together, and rhythmically made and unmade a slight moue. Alexander picked up on this as vigorously as if he were chewing a tough bit of meat.
Then Colin allowed his tongue to creep, in a drawn-out way into Alexander's mouth.
He found the tip of Alexander's tongue, and left things as they were for a while, so that he could enjoy the alien flavour of the boy's saliva.
Although Colin was stooping, their bodies were pressed tightly together. He could not feel Alexander's penis, but he knew that the boy must be feeling Colin's raging erection.
He withdrew his tongue, and Alexander picked up the invitation, chasing Colin's tongue with his own and resting tip-to-tip.
Colin started a tongue-wiggle, and, again, Alexander eagerly responded in kind.
For the next phase, Colin opened his mouth, pressing his lips hard so that Alexander's mouth followed.
He started sucking, while letting his tongue explore every reachable surface inside Alexander's mouth.
Then Alexander was busy with his own tongue, and for two or three minutes, their mouths engaged in a jubilant battle, accompanied by little moans and the occasional slurp, as air found its way inside.
Colin felt wonderfully happy.
Then something awful happened—or rather, something wonderful happened, but much, much too soon.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!"
Colin pressed his lips against Alexander's beautiful neck as spurt after spurt of lovejuice splattered into his underpants.
The previous minutes of restricted breathing had caught up with Colin: Alexander had to hold him upright as he gasped for breath.
"Colin, did you come?"
"Yeah."
"Danny told us that a quick come always means Love, and a slow come usually means Love . . ."
"And no come often means Love," completed Colin, still wheezing.
"We saw comes at the Jiggers' Christmas Treat. Sea Jay squirted his cum for miles. Can you do that, Colin?"
"Sometimes."
"Can I see you do that, Colin?"
"Sometime."
"I'll rub myself in bed tonight, thinking of you doing that, Colin; but it's not the come that's important, it's you: I think about you all the time, anyway. You know when I walked into the Great Hall last September and the Sorting Hat . . ."
Alexander babbled about his love for Colin all the way back to the common room.
Colin was awed by the intensity and sincerity of the boy's love. It seemed a huge burden for a fifteen-year-old, but it was a burden that Colin was proud and happy to carry.
X X X
Colin had little time to think about Alexander and his overpowering love on Friday: Transfig, Charms, Dark Arts, English and Latin, Herbology.
Four of the five teachers, recognizing that a weekend was approaching, always set difficult and lengthy homework on a Friday.
Umbridge's homework was easily done by copying out texts from the milk-and-water Ministry textbook, but the other four were cruel: not cruel in a sadistic way, but cruel in a You-WILL-pass-your-O.W.L.'s-next-year way.
As usual, Colin was sitting with his friends Sea Jay and Jonny in the study-room next to the library, slogging away so as to free up as much of the weekend as possible.
As usual, Dennis had sailed through the minuscule second-year workload, and had spent most of the evening playing with his friends, returning every so often to say hello to Colin.
Their labours were interrupted by the arrival of a prefect.
"All students return to their common rooms immediately!"
"Ssh!" said Madam Pince.
"Sorry Miss; Headmistress's orders. All students return to their common rooms immediately!"
In the common room, the whole of Gryffindor were assembled and Professor McGonagall addressed them:
"Cases of theft are, thankfully, few and far between at Hogwarts, but today there has been an egregious offence: a valuable Quidditch card has been stolen from a member of Gryffindor.
"You will all remain here while members of staff carry out a magical search—a search that will include Gryffindor, though I am sure that nobody in this house would dream of sullying the very foundation of our life together by an act like this."
The staff was out en masse—no doubt, many of them summoned to the castle from whatever activities teachers get up to on their evenings off.
There was much Accio! and Revelio! and more arcane charms, but, by half past two, the search was over, and it was confirmed that the missing card was nowhere in Hogwarts; and no owls had left that night.
They were all too tired to talk about it and went straight to their beds.
Dennis made an effort to slip into Colin's dormitory for the night, but, given the circumstances, the prefects were being extra vigilant and strict.
"Sandwich, Colin?" asked Jonathan Neil, meaning: would Colin like to spend the night squeezed between the two lovers?
Of course, the answer was yes, and, after Colin's underpants had been admired, Sea Jay and Jonny lay nearly face-to-face. Colin crawled on top, and, in this position, they were able to rub their three willies together.
Afterwards, the two lower boys moved apart, and Colin was able to slip down and go to sleep between his two friends.
The downside was that he had to sleep in a massive wet patch.
There are worse downsides than that! he thought.
X X X
Next morning, after breakfast, the story emerged, and everyone clustered around Peter Jones in the common room.
Peter was a small, nondescript, sandy-haired first-year, who had proudly mentioned his gayness on his first day at Hogwarts, subsequently taking an eager part in Danny Jorrocks's Juniors In Gay Support (JIGS) group.
He was an only son, and his parents had, unusually for Muggles, accepted the shock of their eight-year-old's announcement that he was gay.
They had also accepted the even greater shock of learning that there were such things as wizards and that their son was one.
The Joneses were well-off and took a lot of keeping up with. Peter had arrived at Hogwarts as thoroughly kitted-out as any of the first-years, his trunk containing, as well as many other delights, a spectacular collection of Quidditch cards.
Most of the boys, and some of the girls, collected these cards, but none had such a spectacular collection as Peter.
Alas, it was the jewel of his collection—an original vintage card of "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn—that had been stolen.
Peter had gone to Ravenclaw on the Friday night to visit his boyfriend Caerwen Morgan, taking his album of cards with him.
"Was it while you were busy with Caerwen?" asked James Carter, a tall classmate of Peter.
There was some amusement at this: Caerwen, unlike most little boys, took immense pleasure in taking it up the jacksie, as he put it. It was incongruous to have to think of Peter as a superstud, but he certainly spent much of his time joyously bouncing up and down, on top of his friend.
"No," said Peter, "It was while I was coming back. I was passing that statue of Hieronymus the Twelve-Toed when somebody jumped out, knocked my album out of my hand, and threw a big blanket over me. I was all tangled and couldn't reach my wand.
"Then, when I got myself sorted, I thought it was just someone's joke. My album was on the floor, but then I got this sinking feeling; I checked and, sure enough, "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn had gone."
"Did you hear anything?" asked Hermione Granger.
"No, they must have had rubber shoes."
"Or bare feet," said Ray Kelly.
"Luna has bare feet when Saturn's in Cornelius Fudge's star-sign," giggled Ginny.
There was more laughter at the thought of Luna Lovegood being devious, let alone thievish, let alone interested in Quidditch cards.
"We shouldn't really be laughing," said Hermione, "The school's already divided because of You-Know-Who, and stealing divides it more by attacking the trust we have for each other."
"Trust! That's it!" said Peter, "I don't care about the card; Daddy'd buy me a new one if I asked.
"But Caerwen thought that I'd suspect he'd tipped someone off; and then, when I told him that was silly, he said he might have tipped someone off accidentally, and he blamed himself. It was awful."
There was some foot-shuffling as people remembered the embarrassing spectacle before breakfast: two little boys, snivelling and clutching each other.
"I'm going to see him now!" said Peter and ran out of the common room.
"I don't suppose we'll ever find the culprit," said Hermione, "And how they got it out of Hogwarts, goodness knows."
"It'll be Slytherins," said Ron Weasley.
"Oh, Ron!" said Hermione, "We mustn't stereotype!"
"Stereotype!" said Ron, "How can you say that after all the things the Slytherins have done . . ."
Colin and his friends left the two of them arguing and settled with Dennis in one of the window corners.
"We can't let it go at that!" said Jonathan, "What would Danny have done?"
"He'd have done the same as we're going to do," said Sea Jay, "Draw up a list of suspects and watch them."
"We can eliminate three-quarters of the school," said Jonny, "Whatever Hermione may say, I know it's person or persons from Slytherin."
No-one disagreed.
"Adrian's our man on the spot," said Sea Jay.
"And Adam's our link to Adrian," said Jonny.
"To Ravenclaw!" said Colin.
"To Ravenclaw!" said Sea Jay.
"Cheers!" said Dennis.
X X X
They asked for Adam Watts at the door and a small girl shouted: "Adam!"
Mandy guessed that her poppet might be present and came to the door: "Hello, boys! Fancy a walk after lunch, sweetie?"
"Okay!" said Dennis.
Adam appeared and said: "I can guess. Let's go up to the dorm."
"I've got a plan," said Jonathan, "Bring James."
James Poxon was Adam's betrothed. People still couldn't quite believe that, in two months, dishy Adam and unappealing James were actually getting married.
The six boys went up the stairs, but instead of going to Adam's fourth-year dormitory, they turned into the first-years'.
One bed had curtains around it.
"Alright, you two!" shouted Adam.
"Alright, Ad," came Caerwen's muffled voice, "Gonna give us a kootch, now, in a mo?"
James didn't know what a kootch was and probably didn't care: he realised that Adam was a highly-sexed boy, and was happy for him to empty his bollocks anywhere he wanted. After the wedding, though, after Adam had deflowered James, he would have to become a one-boy boy.
"We've got company," said Adam, but too late: Dennis had dashed over and pulled back the curtain, revealing the two boys lying face down, with the bed-cover rising and falling in a slow rhythm—then the bed-cover was removed and Peter's small, white posterior became visible.
No-one was offended—indeed, suddenly, the room held eight stiffies.
"We need to discuss things," said Sea Jay, and the two lovers uncoupled and sat on the side of the bed.
"Peter," began Jonathan, "It's not about getting your card back; it's about finding out who did the rotten crime. We're all agreed it's someone in Slytherin. Can you think of anyone who's expressed an interest in Quidditch cards?"
"We only share Snape and Umbridge with the Slytherins," said Peter, "and neither gives us much chance of socialising."
The others nodded understandingly.
"The only two Slytherins I've really met are the Jiggers—Brian Hudson, who's left, and Nathan Passaro, who I wouldn't trust an inch."
"Place him for me," said Sea Jay, "Was he at the Christmas Party?"
"Yeah," said Peter, "Dark; sat with Hudson; never spoke."
"Got him," said Sea Jay, "What do you think, Adam?"
"Danny said he was Malfoy's spy," said Adam, "And he didn't believe he was really gay."
"That's likely," said Caerwen, "When Tintin got off with him, all he was interested in was his nipples—I mean what gay man behaves like that?"
"Millions," said Adam, "But not to the exclusion of the other bits."
Caerwen giggled: "Tintin said it was no way to treat a lady."
"I've just remembered something," said Peter, "When me and Hudson were talking about our collections, Passaro seemed interested, but it struck me afterwards that it was the value he was interested in most."
"He's our man!" said Jonathan.
"A first year," said Adam, "How the hell did he get rid of it?"
"Maybe it still inside Hogwarts," said Colin.
"And Passaro's hoodwinking umpteen world-class witches and wizards?" said Jonathan.
"Think of all the things Danny's done," said Dennis.
"Passaro's not a Danny!" said Adam.
"Anyway, here's the plan," said Jonathan, "We follow him everywhere—breakfast, break, lunch, before and after dinner. We do it very carefully, and so as to be noticed less, we do it as known courting couples: me and Sea Jay; Adam and James; Peter and Caerwen—you two have got to be specially careful; Colin and Alexander—"
"He'll love that!" said Colin.
"So will you, Col!" said Dennis.
"Dennis and Mandy, if she can spare the time," concluded Jonathan, "I think we can trust her."
"Yeah, but can I trust her?" said Dennis, and they all laughed: Mandy had seduced Dennis in his first year and scared the wits out of him.
"Also, Adam," said Jonathan, "Can you see Adrian and tell him all about it? Nobody'll suspect: being fellow Gay Champions, you're always seeing him. Maybe he's noticed something."
"I'm off!" said Adam, leaving with a slightly wistful glance at the two exposed loins.
Colin was pretty sure that Caerwen was going to receive a pounding from a mansizer before the day was over.
The two first-years dressed, with a little help from Dennis, and they all sat down to draw up the rota.
X X X
Over lunch, Adam reported what Adrian Pucey had said: Passaro was a loner, hanging about with his class, or with Malfoy's lot; not fitting in; laughing obsequiously at Crabbe and Goyle's dirty heterosexual jokes.
He'd often gone wandering off by himself, but, now Adrian came to think of it all the first-years tended to wander off these days. Something was up—but in Slytherin there was always something up. No-one ever told Adrian: he was admired as a Quidditch star, but triply suspect as a Gay, a befriender of non-Slytherins, and a Slytherin Secret Keeper (though only Adrian knew that the Slytherin Secret had been destroyed by Danny Jorrocks.)
The worst thing that Adrian could say for sure was that Passaro didn't wash his hands after shitting.
Adrian had promised Adam to keep an eye out, without raising suspicion, and had made a suggestion which had resulted in Adam receiving a mouthful of eight-inch penis, and, one minute later, a choking flood therefrom.
The spy-team was thoroughly geared up to find out what was going on, but the answer seemed to be: nothing.
The rest of Saturday and all of Sunday and Monday revealed no more than Passaro going through life as nonentitatively as Adrian had described.
The only highlights of the weekend were sexual: Colin reading another story to the first-years, and adding Alexander's three-and-a-half-inch stiffie to his grope-bag; Dennis squeezing Mandy's breasts, and getting so excited he had to run away and bum Colin.
Then, on Monday evening, Colin and Alexander struck gold.
They followed Passaro and another Slytherin first-year boy from the castle, and saw them walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Then they suddenly, but casually, turned into the Forest.
Colin decided to give it a couple of minutes, which was just as well, as two Slytherin second-year girls followed the same course.
After another delay, Colin led his friend towards the spot.
He desperately wanted not to be caught. They had an excuse, of course: a pair of passionate lovers looking for a bit of how's-your-father, but the Slytherins would probably become extra-alert and the team might never find out what was going on.
They came to the place where the Slytherins had turned.
There was an ill-maintained path leading into the forest.
All eyes and ears, they tiptoed along it.
Then the most extraordinary sight met them: the path simply stopped.
Colin stood thunderstruck.
Then he thought that the solution was obvious: they must have climbed into the trees, but looking up, he could see no indications of Slytherin presence.
He led Alexander to the end of the path.
The boy was nervous and held Colin's hand, giving Colin a shudder of pleasure.
He methodically looked right and left; up and down; fore and aft: nothing.
They stood there bemused, until Colin said to himself: Shit! I'm supposed to be a wizard!
Defensive, Concealment and Confusing Charms!
Colin reckoned a Confundus was most likely: easy to apply; easy to remove—in both cases, if you knew how.
He was not a natural Division One wizard, but he had been Danny's friend for three years, and had sat at Harry's feet in Dumbledore's Army for six months.
He stretched out his wand arm and focused his mind.
Feel the Force, Luke! he thought.
Oh shut up!
There! He could feel something.
Now, how to remove a Confundus?
You have to become part of the Spell.
He mentally rehearsed the incantations, and then tried it.
Success first time!
He could see through the Confundus and hear voices not too far off.
"Can you see the path continuing and going round the corner?" he asked.
"No, it stops here," said Alexander.
Oh. How the hell to remove a Confundus on someone else's behalf?
Both Danny and Harry had dealt with this, but Colin couldn't remember.
He lost five minutes, teaching his friend the Removal spell, worried all the time that the Slytherins might finish whatever they were doing and return to find him and Alexander.
At last, at the nth attempt, Alexander got it.
"Sensational!" he said.
Colin felt a surge of love for his brother, as he imagined the Coo! that Dennis would have produced.
They crept along the path which continued towards an area of greenery.
Colin guided them to the left, so that they were concealed from the path, as well as the green area.
They carefully peeped through the shrubbery, and saw an amazing sight.
A field about half the size of a football pitch was overseen by a decrepit wooden tower.
It must have been a killing ground for lazy hunters: beaters would have driven wild animals—deer, perhaps or boar—towards the green, where they could be easily picked of—by guns if the hunters had been Muggles, or by wands if they were wizards.
But the truly amazing thing was what was taking place in the field: there were the seven goals of the Junior Broomstick competition; and there were the four Slytherins he had seen, practising under the direction of Miles.
Colin knew at once what was going on.
"It's a betting coup," he whispered to Alexander, but the boy, being a pureblood, had to have it explained to him. Then he was furious at the deceitfulness of the idea.
"It's not fair!" he said, "Some boys who haven't got two Knuts to rub together have borrowed from their friends to bet on Gryffindor. And even Peter, whose dad's rich, has put his whole term's pocket money on.
"We'll sort it out, Alexander," said Colin, putting an arm around the boy.
They stood watching the Slytherins. They were good—much too good for Gryffindor, and possibly too good for Hufflepuff as well.
It was odd, but Colin, with some innate sense of sportsmanship, wanted the Slytherins to do well at their practice. As each rider took the course he was thinking: Come on! . . . You can take the loops tighter than that! . . . Keep your eye on the Snitchlet!
The session lasted for another half hour; then the Slytherins wiped off the sweat, dusted off their clothes and, after storing their broomsticks in the base of the tower, returned down the path. They each carried small kitbags. Why hadn't he noticed them before the Slytherins entered the Forest? He must train himself to be observant, like Danny.
They left the goals up. Colin guessed that training was every night.
He was about to suggest a second kiss-and-cuddle session, when he noticed that there was another path leading from the far side of the field.
He pointed his wand at it and knew that this path was included within the Confundus.
I'm getting to be quite a Sensitive! he thought.
They crossed the field ands drew up short at yet another amazing sight: a miniature thatched cottage; about the size of a small garden shed; complete with a front door, and two tiny windows.
They could not see inside, so stood back while Colin Charmed the door open.
Inside there were seven cages.
"Ferrets," said Colin, continuing the hunting thread.
But the cages were empty except for a few feathers.
Now, Colin was a townie, but Birmingham has plenty of pigeons—even naming a municipal park after them.
Birmingham also has a few hawks, and, whenever a hawk meets a pigeon, feathers such as these fly.
So, whatever animals had been kept here had been fed on pigeons.
Not ferrets, then.
Could Slytherins really have been keeping hawks here?
And why feed them on pigeons when there was a plentiful supply of rodents?
Colin giggled as he remembered the dappled mouse.
During the giggle, his Working Class roots came to him: Muggles used pigeons for racing. Perhaps the Slytherins kept pigeons in pursuance of another of their betting coups.
They were called Homing Pigeons, because that's the way they flew: straight for home.
Idly, he remembered that this attribute had been used to send military messages from war zones to HQ.
Messenger Pigeons!
The Muggles used pigeons as wizards used owls, except that a pigeon could only go to one address.
And, in an era when owls were being monitored, what better way of smuggling letters out of Hogwarts?
Danny Jorrocks had had great success by using Muggle methods.
It looked as though the Slytherins had been thinking similarly.
He knew how the Quidditch card had left Hogwarts.
X X X
After a last look-round, in which they discovered that one of the cages still had seed and water, they set out on the return journey, holding hands, which was wonderful in itself, but additionally pleasant as it was in defiance of Umbridge's explicit order.
When they reached the hiding-place, Alexander gave Colin's hand a squeeze and said: "Shall we have a snog?"
In response, Colin drew the boy into the thicket and they hugged each other—hands straight to bums this time—after Colin's dormitory intimacies, there was really no need for reticence.
"Can I try, please?" asked Alexander, and he took the lead in kissing Colin, his lips and tongue moving with extraordinary tenderness.
There was also an element of urgency, or even fieriness, in Alexander tonight: he gave what was definitely a jerk of lust as he removed his hand from Colin's bum and squeezed his willy.
"I do love you Colin," he whispered, "Please can I see it?"
Colin obliged, and Alexander gasped: "It's big! It's bigger than Adam's!"
"Let's see yours."
Alexander's willy was that special creamy-white shade that Nature seems to have reserved for little boys' private parts.
It felt like a rock in Colin's hands.
He peeled back the foreskin, exposing a beautifully formed and coloured little acorn.
Underneath, inside the tight, wrinkly bag, was a pair of surprisingly big balls.
"Can you come, Al?" he asked.
"Sort of. It feels better and better, and then it just stops feeling better and better. Not like Euan Abercrombie."
"Yeah, Danny said he had a big one at the Christmas do."
"You should hear him at night. He can usually control it, but if he has a wank when he's half-asleep, he screams and screams and wakes himself and the rest of us up. It's not fair: there's fourteen Jiggers, and only Caerwen and Euan can have proper orgasms. Everyone should be able to have them."
"I think it runs in families: even my littlest brother, Geoff, is enjoying it and he's only just nine. Dennis has been coming two or three times a day for four years and he still can't produce even a drop of pre-cum."
"It's dripping off you, Col!"
"I'm all sexed up and hot for my little Alexander. Have a feel."
The boy wrapped his hand around the shaft.
"That feels good; it's big . . . and powerful—Oh! Colin!"
Colin had bent and taken the tip of Alexander's willy into his mouth.
He rose and kissed Alexander again, while rubbing the boy's foreskin over the newly-moistened tip.
"Wait there!" said Alexander, and he bent down in turn and wrapped his lips round Colin's glans.
There flashed in Colin's mind a sense of what Alexander must be feeling: after all those years of knowing that he was dirty and abnormal, Danny had taught him that sex was noble, and gay sex as noble as any other form.
Now here he was: sucking the penis of the boy he loved; the boy to whom he had written a desperate, last-gasp letter of appeal.
He gave Alexander's head an affectionate stroke, as it rose and they resumed their kiss, each boy rubbing his friend's willy.
He could feel the tense body against him, as Alexander approached his low-key orgasm.
But Colin got there first: the very clumsiness of Alexander's fumblings seemed to heighten the final release. Splat after splat of fluid volcanoed over Alexander's genitals and, in his delirium of pleasure, Colin seemed to be taking the entire boy within himself.
He carried on rubbing the boy's willy, using his own cum as additional lubricant, until Alexander relaxed and Colin knew that the moments of pleasure had passed.
They stood there, still holding willies, and resumed snogging—but messily, as they were both panting.
At last they both knew their little trip to paradise was over: they had made a serious discovery and something would have to be done about it.
They tidied themselves up as best they could, and set off for the castle.
"Wasn't that amazing, Col?" said Alexander, happily, "Today'll always be the best day of my life. I really love you, and just being your friend is brilliant, but I've wanked you off and it was so good when you splashed all over me, and I'm all wet, so it's as if you're still splashing and splashing."
Alexander talked all the way back to the common room.
X X X
They convened a committee meeting in the dorm: Colin, Alexander, Sea Jay, Jonny, Dennis, Adam, Jonathan Poxon, Peter, Caerwen and Adrian were joined by Ray Kelly and Stewart Appiah, Colin's dorm-mates.
Colin told them of the discoveries that he had made.
There was universal jabbering until Ray Kelly called them to order: "Come on now; one at a time."
"We need a conch," said Colin.
"What?" said Ray, totally flummoxed.
"It's . . . oh, never mind. Carry on."
"Well," continued Ray, "The betting thing should be straightforward: Colin and Alexander have caught Miles out, so he'll have to close his book and return the stakes."
"I'll talk to him at break tomorrow," said Colin.
"The Quidditch card thing's straightforward too," said Sea Jay.
"Why?" asked Ray.
"Well, we know that little toe-rag Passaro took it and we know how he got it out of Hogwarts."
"We know nothing of the kind," said Ray, "Passaro is our prime suspect, but we have absolutely no proof. We don't even have proof that whoever stole the card—Passaro or not—used a pigeon. We're stuck."
"Not necessarily," said Adrian, "Suppose we could link Passaro to the pigeon?"
"That would nail him!" said Jonathan.
"But how?" asked Ray.
"The staff were on the case within minutes of the theft," said Adrian, "So Passaro had no time to slip out to Colin's little cottage."
"So he must have had the pigeon inside Hogwarts!" said Ray.
"And how did he get it here?" asked Adrian.
"In his kitbag!" said Colin, "And, even if he's cleaned it, there might be the odd feather or poop-stain!"
"Precisely, my dear Watson!"
"Can you get a look at it Adrian?" asked Ray, "You're in Slytherin."
"Difficult to get to the first-year dorms: with all the revising that's going on, there's always someone about. What I could do is ask Passaro to be my boyfriend. Virion would understand."
"It might take some time," said Ray, dubiously, "You know—sweet talk and wooing, and all that."
Stewart chuckled: "Wooing for the usual sort of gay consists of: How-do-you-do. Get 'em off."
"Just 'cos Danny tried that with you," said Sea Jay, "doesn't mean we're all like that all of the time. These two are getting married, lucky devils!" He indicated Adam and Jonathan Poxon.
Colin glanced at Jonny Neil, who, as always when marriage was mentioned, wriggled uncomfortably.
"I think it's the best we can do," said Ray, "Adrian keeps his eye open for a chance to look at the dorm, while improving his chances by courting Passaro."
"There is another way," said Alexander, shyly.
Colin gave his hand a squeeze of encouragement.
"Yes, Alexander?" said Ray.
"We do Games with Slytherin. We always take our kitbags. If it's fine, we bring them to the field with us."
"Off course!" said everybody.
Alexander was blushing. He looked so sweet that Colin had to cuddle him.
"We've got Games after lunch," continued Alexander, "And there's a bit more luck: Paul's got a bag just like Passaro's. We can create a diversion and he can do the search, and, if he gets caught: Oh, sorry; wrong bag."
"Brilliant!" said everybody, and the meeting broke up in an atmosphere of optimism.
"I've got homework, Al," said Colin.
"I'll come and work with you," said Alexander.
"Don't. I don't mind you putting me off, but you'll learn more quickly if you do it with your own age-group."
"It's not like love, then," whispered Alexander.
"No, perfect love is between a twelve-year-old and a fifteen-year-old," Colin whispered back."
"I can't believe I've had your cock in my mouth, and I'm still wet and I really love you so much, Col, and I think it's—"
"Save it for another time, Sweetheart, I love you too, but I'm not getting more detentions because I'm thinking of you instead of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4."
Colin shot off to the library, joining Sea Jay and Jonny in preparing for Professor Flitwick's Wednesday lesson.
They went to bed at eleven.
Colin's curtains were drawn.
Dennis was asleep, but, in the morning, said: "Tell me all about it, Col."
Colin did exactly that.
Then they had brotherly sex and went down to breakfast.
X X X
At break, the next day, Miles was hanging about on the lawn with some other big Slytherins, male and female.
"Can I have a word, please, Miles?" said Colin.
"Creevey, isn't it? What do you want?"
"A private word about the broomstick betting."
"Ah!"
Miles's demeanour changed, and he led Colin off a little way.
"Now, young feller-me-lad! I suppose you want to put a bet on? I'm sorry I offered those silly odds now!"
"I don't want to bet. I want you to close your book and return all stake-money."
Miles laughed contemptuously: "And why would I want to do an unsportsmanlike thing like that?"
"Because you've had your team practising secretly. That's cheating."
"How we practice is our own business. By no stretch of the imagination, is secret practice cheating—all the top Quidditch teams do it, and we do it. Now go away!"
"I wonder what Umbridge would say if she knew you'd broken so many school rules: gambling; entering the Forbidden Forest; unsupervised broomwork for juniors."
Miles's laugh was even more unpleasant: "Professor Umbridge is very understanding and she jolly-well wouldn't give a toss, you cocky little shite."
"Come on," said Colin, "One last chance: please do the decent thing."
"Or what? I think there's a lot of people going to say goodbye to their money!"
Miles turned away, but by the time he had reached the other Slytherins, Colin had decided on his course of action.
He knew the Umbridge threat was useless—she always let Slytherins get away with anything—but there was another approach . . .
X X X
Schoolboys in general are hopeless at concealing their emotions, and even a Troll with learning disabilities would have been able to tell that the Gryffindor first-years had found something to be extra-ebullient about.
In the Great Hall, Colin went up to them before dinner and told them to calm down.
"But Paul got it!" said Peter, "He got a—"
"Don't tell the world!" Colin interrupted, "Act normal now, and come up to my dorm after dinner—Alright, Alexander?"
Colin accompanied the last bit of this address with a ruffling of Alexander's thick, blond hair, which was enough to give Colin—and probably Alexander—a stiff penis throughout the meal.
After dinner, the Gryffindors met in the fourth-year dormitory, where pretty Paul Smith told the story:
"It went perfectly! Euan crashed into one upright and cannoned into another. Everyone laughed, of course, and Madam Hooch went to check if he was alright.
"Then, when she'd got him up, he went for James for laughing at him, and they were on the ground throwing punches at each other, and that gave me plenty of time to search Passaro's kitbag.
"He'd cleaned it out thoroughly, but, caught in the stitching, I found this!"
Paul displayed an inch-long, downy feather.
"Well done, all of you!" said Colin, "Now we know for sure."
"It's enough for us, but it's still not legal proof," said Ray Kelly.
"We don't need legal proof," said Colin, "We're not taking this to Umbridge or the Ministry; we just want to get Peter's card back."
"How on earth?" said Ray.
"It's time for a Jiggers' meeting, Sea Jay," said Colin.
"We were thinking of a week today," said Sea Jay.
"Can you make it tomorrow?"
"Consider it done. I'll see Derek, Adrian and Adam when we've finished."
"Which is now," said Colin, "I've got lots of homework."
X X X
At nine o'clock, Colin returned to the common room, and saw Harry, Hermione and Ron sitting round a table.
He drew up a chair, and asked: "Can I have a consultation, please?"
"Of course you can, Colin," said Hermione.
"It's about doing a Confundus," he whispered.
There was a shout from the other end of the room: "Foul play!" said Dennis, "That's not how Danny managed things!"
"Sorry, Den!" shouted Colin, and moved over to sit sideways in Ron's lap.
"Gerroff!" said Ron, his ears—large and noticeable, even in normal conditions— suddenly turning a bright pink.
Colin ignored him.
"It's about the book that Miles is making on the Junior Broomstick Cup," he began.
Hermione gave a little lecture on the evils of gambling and the importance of school rules.
"Come on, Hermione, said Harry, "Muggles and wizards have always wanted a flutter, and authorities have always tried to stop it; and they've never succeeded."
Colin was conscious of something very large and very hard under his bum. It was true what Danny had guessed: Ron had a monster between his legs.
"What do you think, Ron?" said Colin, giving himself a reason to look at Ron's face, which was indeed nearly as pink as his ears.
"Er . . . nothing wrong with a bet . . . adds spice to Quidditch anyway," said Ron.
"Precisely!" said Colin, giving a little wiggle, "Betting's good fun—but only when it's a straight game."
"What do you mean, Colin?" asked Hermione, clearly intrigued and probably scenting yet another bit of Slytherin chicanery.
Colin told them the story of the generous odds, the field in the Forest, the secret practice and Miles's attitude that morning.
He had not got half way, before he realised that Ron was having an orgasm: the huge bump was being rubbed against Colin's bottom, a hand was pressed against Colin's back and unwanted gulps sometimes emerged from Ron's throat.
Ron covered up effectively by a display of anger: his jerks and grunts were accompanied by a running commentary: Absolutely disgraceful! . . . It's not fair! . . . Meant to be a bit of fun! . . .
Ron subsided before Colin reached his conclusion: "So I'm going to Confund the Slytherins and make sure they don't win."
"I don't think that's ethical," said Hermione.
"It's stopping thieves from thieving," said Colin.
"Oh yes," said Hermione, "The end justifies the means—that always a good excuse for wrongdoing."
"Oh, Hermione," said Harry, "A small end and a small means. Don't build it up to be an act of terrorism."
Before Hermione could replay, Colin stepped in: "A small end, yes!"—He gave his bum a big wiggle—Ron's end was small now—"And I've come to talk to you about the small means: I'm going to Confund them, whatever anyone says, but I don't want it to be detectable and I don't want to hurt anyone."
They were quite taken aback by the new, assertive Colin.
"It is an interesting problem," said Hermione, "What you could do is . . ."
They worked out a plan, and agreed that Colin would have a practice-session before the tournament.
In the meantime, Colin had a pressing need, and the Gay Champions' meeting in another corner of the common room suggested a way of satisfying it.
X X X
Since Danny's departure, Adam Watts had been in charge of JIGS, but, sensibly, he took the other three Gay Champions into his deliberations.
Now, the four of them were discussing, not only the programme for the rest of the school term, but the needs of the twenty new first-year boys who would be arriving in September.
Colin sat down with them, and listened while they summarised their proposals.
He was thinking, however, of Ron Weasley.
He knew from Seamus that Ron was straight; moreover Danny Jorrocks had sat on his knee without ever stirring an erection.
Yet, just now, contact with Colin had whizzed him through lust to orgasm.
Why?
The only thing that Colin could think of was prettiness—but, if Ron was going for prettiness, surely he could have found a prettier girl than Hermione.
It was all very mysterious.
But the GC's had finished their discussions, and Colin explained his requirements for the JIGS meeting, and then his own immediate needs:
"I must get some big cock inside me now!"
"It's sitting on Ron's lap, isn't it?" said Sea Jay, "Did he get the horn?"
"Not in the least," said Colin.
He wasn't going to give away Ron's secrets, which meant that he couldn't tell his friends that what had really turned him on was the knowledge that lashings of Weasley manhood had been released an eighth of an inch from Colin's bumhole.
"I wondered if you might oblige, dearest Adrian?"
Adrian looked a little surprised: "Up the bum? Are you sure Colin?"
"I bet you said that to Danny, too!"
"Point taken. We can give it a try and you can stop me at any time."
"I thought I could be warmed up by you three—and Jonny, of course."
"You have got the hots, haven't you?" said Adam, "And they're infectious too: I need your bum badly, Colin. Let's go."
"You can use our dorm," said Derek.
"Classroom 3E will give us more room," said Adrian, "We're out of curfew, so we may as well be cursed for a Giant as a Pixie."
Colin grabbed a towel and, having collected Jonny, they all crept to the classroom on the third floor, where Adrian magicked up a bed—not in the Jorrocks class, but quite serviceable.
They didn't need Colin to tell them to strip, and, with Colin lying on the bed, with his knees behind his ears, they didn't need Colin to tell them that Derek was up first: events like this always went by penis-size.
Derek Rath was a tall, fair-haired Hufflepuff. He had a ruddy complexion which made one remember that, only a hundred years earlier, English boys would have breakfasted on a pound of roast beef, and a quart of ale.
Derek was advanced for a fifteen-year-old, with a respectable moustache, a hairy bum and masses of chest-hair. His pubic jungle nearly concealed a smallish willy, which, despite its size, was good enough to give Colin the unique and exquisite pleasure of being bummed, as Derek thrust home.
Derek was just that bit taller than Colin, allowing them to snog comfortably.
As Colin lay, holding Derek tight, feeling Derek's tongue roaming deep inside his mouth, and having his bumhole strongly pounded, he felt in Heaven.
He usually felt in Heaven when he was having sex, but this time, with the knowledge that four hot and randy boys were queuing up for him, things felt extra-special.
Unusually for a Hufflepuff, Derek came to his climax quite quickly, and Colin guessed that he'd gone without for a couple of days: Derek had never had a regular boyfriend and tended to drift to whoever was feeling randiest at the time. This was probably setting the tone for his future career in the Wizard Navy—a new voyage; new and old shipmates; new bunkings-up in the hammocks.
There was a query about the next to play: Jonny's willy was longer than Adam's, but thinner.
Colin nominated Jonny, and the boy mounted him smoothly, and rogered him at the andante pace he knew and loved.
In fact, Colin knew and loved everything about Jonny: he had looked at, touched, smelt, kissed and sucked every square inch of his body.
He was sucking Jonny's tongue now, and his friend quickened his pace and rammed into him like a pneumatic drill, making slapping sounds against Colin's buttocks, and emitting the nasal Ai! . . . Ai! . . . Ai! of his orgasm.
Adam pushed Jonny aside and made to enter Colin.
"Tell me when to stop," he said.
Colin knew that Adam was desperate.
"Just go in slowly, but don't stop," he said.
Adam did just that, causing just a twinge of pain, which increased as he banged into Colin, coming to an immediate orgasm with his usual loudness: "Oh yeah! . . . Oh Colin! . . . Oh yeah! . . . Colin! . . . COLIN! . . . COLEEEEEEEN!"
The shouting excited Colin, and his own willy spurted splash after splash over his chest and stomach.
He felt a great warmness, and a oneness with Adam and the four onlookers.
Through the excitement, he heard Jonny say: "That's something: the two prettiest boys in Hogwarts get together!"
And Sea Jay said: "The second and third prettiest boys, my darling."
Which shows the power of love, because no-one else would have called Jonny Neil pretty—except, of course, Danny, who might be regarded as the absent godfather of the whole scenario.
Colin felt that Adam would have liked to have stayed on top of Colin all night, but Adam was a gentleman, and made way for Sea Jay at once.
Here was another boy who Colin knew from top to toe. He had followed the course of Sea Jay's affair with Jonny for three years—from the first snog (at the start of their second-year, Colin now knew) through two years of furtive couplings up to the Jorrocks-inspired public acknowledgement of their love the previous September.
Now Sea Jay was giving Colin his first serious stretching of the evening.
As the big bell-end worked its way in, Colin felt his body repeatedly tensing and relaxing, just as his inner self was relaxing after the tensions of the day—Miles, pigeons and Ron; to say nothing of the classes.
Sea Jay knew Colin's bum completely by now. In the minimum of time, and with a minimum of pain, he was fully in, and the tree-trunk that emerged from Sea Jay's pubes was pushing Colin's ringpiece, first inwards, then outwards, then inwards . . .
Colin almost envied the other boys who were able to see that miraculously hairy backside clobbering into Colin.
They were kissing hard, with Sea Jay's floppy hair tickling Colin's ears, when Sea Jay climaxed.
More prodigious spurts, judging by the number of noisy strokes.
Sea Jay lay still, and now it was time for the big one.
"Give us a feel," said Colin, and Adrian stood by the bed, with his whopper sticking up at forty-five degrees.
It was all veiny—a real man's penis; and the rest of Adrian was all man, too. Adrian was eighteen now, and very hairy: his chest, in particular, was an incredible rat's nest of black, wiry hair. Colin had seen—or felt—nothing like it before.
Colin moved his hand down Adrian's body to grasp the shaft.
Alexander had called Colin's willy powerful. It was nothing to this: Colin could only get his hand round it by squeezing quite hard.
There was a blob of liquid at the end, and Colin leant forward to lick it. Then he opened his mouth and took several inches in his mouth, while feeling the plum-sized balls, in their tight, hairy sack.
For a moment he visualised sucking hard and enjoying oceans of Adrian-juice exploding in his throat. But that was for some time in the future. For tonight, Colin was going to get shafted, and he summoned up his Gryffindor courage.
Adrian had a long, pointy bell-end, thank goodness: a hole that had just received Sea Jay would be able to take the first half-inch without difficulty.
"Do it now Adrian, please," he said, lying back to take it like a man.
Adrian climbed on the bed and pushed his willy against Colin's hole.
"Tell me to stop whenever you want," he said.
"Yeah."
Colin thought that, for all his size, Adrian was a gentle soul. No wonder that Virion White had held a secret love for six years.
As expected, the first bit was okay. Then, there was pain which began sharply and increased to the point that Colin was about to call: Stop!
But Adrian stopped without having to be asked.
And this happened again and again: it was obvious that Adrian, from his usages of Danny and Virion, had a compassionate instinct for what boys' bums could take.
The pain was still sharp as a knife, but diminishing now, and compensated by the exciting feeling of a very full rectum.
Colin could feel Adrian's thighs pressing hard against his buttocks.
The full eight inches was inside!
"Right, you can start putting it in," he said, to great amusement.
Adrian started a little twitch in and out.
Colin thought he'd die of pleasure. He felt like shouting: Harder! Harder! but let Adrian set the pace.
Very slowly, Adrian increased the length of his stroke; then, very slowly, he increased the pace, until there could be no doubt that Colin was getting a comprehensive shagging.
Adrian varied his angle, moving his body forward or backward, or left and right, so that Colin's sensations changed from second to second—but never shifting from full-scale on the pleasure-meter.
If there had been N.E.W.T.'s in buggery, Adrian would have scored an "O" for "Outstanding".
It wasn't just the stimulation of motion that was exciting Colin so much: the extraordinary full feeling in his bottom—more than he had ever felt before—was something extra-special.
Adrian was too tall for the pair to kiss, but Adam came to the rescue: he snogged Adrian, while sitting on Colin's face, so that Colin had something to snog, too.
Every stroke of Adrian gave Colin a dull thud of pain in his bumhole; but the pain was completely gratifying: he had always felt this with Sea Jay, but, with Adrian's fat penis stretching him as never before, he found himself screaming with pleasure.
The screams were muffled though, as his tongue was well inside Adam's bumhole. The taste was sweet and spicy, as though Adam was secreting some special juice, just for Colin.
Sheer brute force made Colin have another orgasm, but he scarcely noticed it, so complete was his euphoria already.
Adrian had his own lengthy orgasm, then stayed still, panting gently, kissing Adam and stroking Colin's head.
Then Adam moved away and Colin called for his towel before allowing Adrian to pull out, which he did at a snail's pace.
As expected, Colin had no control of his sphincter muscles and, when Adrian finally withdrew, there was a loud fart and a huge gush of fluid onto the towel. Colin pushed a little and there was a second gush. Then Colin stood up, allowing gravity to do its work and add a further trickle.
Sometimes people pooped quite heavily after sex, but Colin had produced only a couple of nuggets—not that it mattered at all.
When he thought things were complete, he wiped his bottom with a dry bit of the towel, wiped his own cum off his torso with another bit, and scrunched up the towel.
He handed it to Adam, saying: "Adam, may I present this as a standard to be flown by JIGS?"
Adam laughed, and said: "What a brilliant idea! I promise we'll fly it at every JIGS meeting."
They got dressed and went down to Hufflepuff for a goodnight coffee. It was after midnight when Colin, Sea Jay and Jonny crept towards Gryffindor.
Stealth was abandoned, as they ran into Mrs Norris. After giving her two fingers each, they ran full-tilt for home, arriving a long way ahead of Filch.
They peed and brushed their teeth, keeping the dormitory dark to avoid waking Ray and Stewart.
Colin sat on his bed and began undressing.
Then he wrinkled his nose: had Mrs Norris gained pre-emptive revenge by peeing on his bed? Had Dennis left his picture-book of Zoos of the World (NOW, WITH SMELLYTEXT!) there? Had the house-elves mistakenly laundered his sheets in cabbage-water?
"Hello, Colin," said Seamus.
"Hello, Seamus."
"Illaun! You've never told me whether you'll be my secret boyfriend or not."
"I . . . er . . ."
"It's Lavender. Now that Prokofiev's left, she wants us to get back together, not that there was anything between me and Prokofiev: I'm not in the least gay, and she knows it, but that's what girls are like . . . you never know where you are with them . . . but if we get together, I'll be horny twenty-four-seven and I'll really need a secret boyfriend, but even if she weren't on the planet, I'd still want you, Colin. I feel that we were meant for each other—"
"Oh, shut up, Seamus! You want a shag! Well, give us a snog and I'll think about it."
Seamus was lying naked in the bed.
He sat up and pressed his lips to Colin's.
It was wonderful.
As things got more passionate, Colin went gooey.
"Stay the night and you can shag me!" he said.
"I'll have to get up early," said Seamus, "People might get things wrong and think I'm gay."
Thirty seconds later, Colin was lying face-down and feeling the tip of Seamus's willy nudging his hole.
Then Seamus plunged in and began a no-nonsense, full-strength rogering.
Despite Adrian's earlier assault, and despite Seamus's less taxing willy, Colin's bum could still feel pain and pleasure, so he felt dreamy as well as sleepy.
He was only just awake when Seamus came with Ugh! . . . Ugh! . . . Ugh! and he scarcely felt Seamus's trademark lovebite being planted on his neck.
X X X
Colin was woken by a twinge in his bottom.
It must be quite late, as some of the lads were moving about the room.
He came to full consciousness with the realisation that Seamus was still on top of him, and that the pain arose from Seamus's willy pushing deeply into him.
In no time, Seamus was going at him hard.
He smelt the fresh and stale sweat from Seamus's armpits, and the unique smell of the rest of his skin. It was very sexy, and, what with Seamus tickling just inside his rectum, he felt his pleasure-centres erupting.
He was going to come.
Then Seamus squirted with a couple of gasps, stifled by the act of giving Colin another lovebite, He pulled out immediately, and whispered: "I better get dressed."
"Not yet, my Irish sexpot," whispered Colin, turning over, "Suck that hard!"
Seamus obeyed. By his own account, he was not an experienced cocksucker, and there was no tongue-work; but it was not needed: Colin immediately had another sublime orgasm, as his willy spewed its fluid into Seamus's mouth.
"And swallow it," he commanded, "I want some of me to be inside you."
Seamus swallowed, probably for the first time in his life, and quickly started to get dressed.
He tried to slip out, but Jonny Neil saw him, and called out a cheerful: "Morning Seamus!"
"Morning!" said Seamus, "I just came to return Colin's book I borrowed."
The lads were too polite to dispute this, but, when Seamus had gone, Colin laughed, and said: "He must think you're idiots to swallow that when I've got two big lovebites on my neck."
"Four!" laughed Sea Jay.
"The scamp!" said Colin, "He shagged me twice while I was asleep!"
They went down to breakfast laughing, and that set the tone for the rest of Colin's day.
He even did well at Potions, producing a cracker, with the assistance of a little cribbing from Ray.
At seven o'clock, Adam and his thirteen Jiggers assembled in Classroom 3E, with the addition of supernumeraries.
Adam addressed them:
"Hello, beloved Jiggers, and welcome to the first meeting of the term.
"As you know, one of our aims is to foster friendship between houses, and, for this first meeting you're going to have a look round a different house from your own.
"This is my fiancé Jonathan Poxon, who is going to give the Gryffindor boys a tour of Ravenclaw.
"And this is Gay Champion Derek Rath, who is going to give the Ravenclaw boys a tour of Hufflepuff.
"And this is Jonathan Neil, Sea Jay's best friend, who is going to give the Hufflepuff boys a tour of Gryffindor.
"As you know, Slytherin doesn't encourage visitors, so Colin, Sea Jay and myself have arranged a special treat for Nathan.
"Now, please go off with your couriers; and keep the noise and disturbance down, please; remember there are exams coming up."
When the Jiggers and their escorts had left, Adam spoke to Nathan: "Nathan, this is Colin Creevey, who is in charge."
Colin spoke:
"Good evening, Nathan Passaro. For your special treat, we are going to talk about Quidditch cards."
The boy looked sullen, but there was no reaction.
"In particular, a card depicting "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn.
Still no reaction.
"The card which you stole last Friday evening."
"I never!" said Passaro, coloring a little, "Whoever told you that is lying!"
"Nathan, you were seen stealing it."
Passaro opened his mouth to say something, then closed it for a second before saying: "They're lying!"
Colin knew that he had come within a whisker of achieving the Detective's Dream: They couldn't have seen me! There was no-one else there!
He continued:
"Nathan, you are well aware that Hogwarts seethes with sexual activity. It so happened that two lovers, concealed under an Invisibility Cloak, were struck by your strange interest in the statue of Hieronymus the Twelve-Toed and stopped to watch.
"They saw everything. They marvelled at the niftiness with which you opened the album, took out the card and bolted."
"It's not true."
"Not only that: another pair of lovers, concealed by a Disillusionment Charm, turned the corner in time to see you rising and running."
"It's an anti-Slytherin trick!"
"Well, as you are also well aware, Invisibility Cloaks and Disillusionment Charms are illegal, so the two couples—who, incidentally were not aware of each other—decided to keep quiet, expecting the card to be found during the high-power search.
"When this did not occur, they decided to report what they had seen to responsible people. Meetings were held, and it was decided, in the interests of the school's good name, to hush the matter up provided the card was returned. We were given the responsibility of talking to you."
"It's a lie. You've got no evidence."
"The four witnesses are prepared to give evidence, even if it means they have to take punishment."
"Professor Umbridge won't believe them."
"What's Umbridge got to do with it? Unless the card is returned, they will take their evidence to the Ministry.
"You know, most of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are Old Boys and Old Girls. They revere Hogwarts, and still get hot under the collar about a theft that took place in nineteen seventy-three.
"What do you think they'll do when they receive four eye-witness reports of the robbery, plus two eye-witnesses who saw you putting the pigeon in your kitbag?"
For the first time the boy looked worried.
"P-p-pigeon?" was all he could say.
"They'll have you in court. For a first offence, you'll probably avoid Azkaban, but you'll be finished at Hogwarts and you'll have no future career. Even your fellow-Slytherins will laugh at you and hold you in contempt as the boy who couldn't bring off a pissy-arsed robbery.
"However, get the card back within forty-eight ours and we'll let the matter drop.
Passaro started to sob, but immediately screamed: "OW!"
A stinging curse had hit him on a nipple.
Sea Jay stood up and shouted: "Don't go shedding sympathy-tears, you little runt, or I swear you'll be in pain for the rest of the night!"
Passaro stopped at once and stammered: "I can't . . ."
"Can't what?" asked Colin
"Can't get it back."
"Where is it now?"
"With my father."
"Well, send him an owl."
"You don't understand; it's valuable."
"We'll offer him something more valuable."
Ten minutes later, a parchment addressed to Mr Passaro was complete.
It read:
Please return card at once. Have found mug who will swap for Eunice Murray! AND Jocunda Sykes!
The three friends accompanied Passaro to the Owlery, and saw the message on its way.
"I feel dirty, dealing with people like that," said Sea Jay.
"I'm never going to cross you, my fierce darling!" said Colin.
"Nor me!" said Adam.
"Let's go back to the classroom and do something clean and pure and human," said Sea Jay.
And so they did.
X X X
On Thursday night, the first DA meeting of the term was held. The main topic was the Confundus Charm, and control of its depth.
By the end of the meeting, everybody was aware of the plan for the Tournament, and everyone was applauding Colin for his delicate touch with the Charm.
On Friday morning, an Anonymous Owl, addressed to Nathan Passaro, and bearing the missing Quidditch card, arrived.
Passaro took it to Peter Jones, saying: "I don't know why anyone would send it to me. It must be a joke."
By prior agreement, the teachers weren't told, but by the end of the day, word had spread that Passaro had had something to do with it.
Peter Jones and Caerwen Morgan had been sworn to secrecy, but all of the day and all of the evening, their bodies contorted involuntarily with the effort of holding themselves in.
Friday night was homework night, and Colin worked until eleven before going to his bed, where Dennis was sleeping—partly to give Colin a break if Seamus turned up, and partly because the two brothers needed no excuse to sleep together.
On Saturday, at ten o'clock, there was a great assembly at the Quidditch pitch.
Most of the school was there—a few seniors were absent, but the juniors were all present and making their presence felt with chants and shouts supporting their house.
There was one bona fide Ravensclaw absent ill, and three Slytherin absentees, who—what a surprise—were useless on a broomstick.
The professors were there, including, unexpectedly, Umbridge, who took weekends off whenever she could—to sacrifice babies to the Goddess of Nastiness, according to Danny.
House order was settled by lot. Thereafter it went by age, so that the oldest boys and girls would be in at the death—pressure was on those going last, because they knew what they had to do and knew that they would be blamed for failure as everyone would have forgotten the awful mistakes made by those going earlier.
Colin sat halfway up the grandstand. Derek had settled a big gang of Hufflepuffs huddled behind him, so that no-one should see his wand. There were widely-spaced Gryffindors and Ravenclaws on either side of him, so that people wouldn't notice his lips moving.
In front of him was Jimmy Peakes, who was acting as his spotter: the Gryffindor juniors had got together to assess who they thought had been holding back most during the official Games lessons and practice evenings. A hand to the right ear meant good; the left ear was goodish; no hands was bad or unknown.
Lee Jordan made the announcements.
He started proceedings by calling up a terrified Ravenclaw girl who scored a creditable seventy-two, including fifteen seconds of penalties.
The first Slytherin was zero-rated, so Colin did nothing—a good decision, as the boy made a mess of everything, and scored a hundred, which was the cap.
The second Slytherin brought Colin into play: he was signalled as good, and lived up to expectations, until Colin charmed him into jerking on the second outward leg, causing him to hit a post, miss a Snitchlet, and lose time. A likely fifty had become a sixty-eight.
Things were going well.
Colin soon discovered that Jimmy's signalling was a waste of time: it was easy for Colin to make a quick decision based on the first few seconds.
He varied his Confunduses, not to make things obvious, and tried to do just enough to keep Slytherin in bottom place, as indicated by the four running averages shown on the scoreboard.
Then came Alexander, who did brilliantly, scoring a personal-best forty-six.
The Gryffindors cheered, and the elated Alexander ran up the stairs to sit by Colin.
Everyone was going to be looking at Colin, and he had his wand out.
Reacting almost without thinking, he raised his wand awkwardly, as though he'd just pulled it from his pocket, and created a halo of little stars—red for Gryffindor—around Alexander's head.
"Put that wand away at once, Creevey!" called Professor McGonagall.
Another voice called: "And keep your hands visible!"
It was Miles. He knew.
Miles could have saved his breath, however: Colin was hopeless at in-pocket wandwork.
They were only a third of the way through and Colin was a spent force. He could only watch as the next two Slytherins achieved flawless scores in the low forties.
The question was: had Colin done enough? After some mental arithmetic, he gloomily decided that the position was bleak.
Tintin Wilkes provided some comfort, not only by flying a brilliant round, but also by treating the spectators to glimpses of black lace knickers. There were cheers and wolf-whistles from many of the boys.
Nathan Passaro was announced, and Colin had a vision of him crashing into the first post and falling off his broom.
Astonishingly, in reality, he crashed into the second post and fell off his broom, scoring a nice, round one hundred.
They reached the second-years, and there were no more low forties for the Slytherins. Someone had taken over from Colin.
Dennis managed fifty-one, and caused much amusement by running up to sit by Colin while shouting: "Where's my stars?"
"Where are my stars?" said Mrs Englishen-Latin, to further amusement.
Colin's speculations as to the invisible helper were forgotten by the time the competition ended, with Gryffindor finishing as honourable runners-up, and Slytherin coming just behind Ravenclaw.
There was much rejoicing among the betting fraternity, and Miles announced that payout day was Tuesday, as specie would have to be sent from Gringotts.
X X X
Rejoicing was short-lived, however: in the Great Hall, arrival of the food was delayed, and Umbridge addressed the school:
"It has come to our attention that students have been betting on this morning's proceedings.
"The organiser of the book, as I understand it is called, will be severely punished."
Everyone looked at Miles, who was sitting at the Slytherin table, appearing remarkably smug for one who was about to suffer severe punishment.
Colin was furious: Miles had tipped off Umbridge who, ever the protector of Slytherins, was enabling him to welsh.
Umbridge continued: "The stake-money will be appropriated and will be added to School funds."
This was more than Colin could bear. He rose to his feet and shouted at Umbridge: "That means the School will benefit from crime! We can't have that!"
There was a moment of silence.
Colin saw that he had surprised everyone: aggressive confrontation was not in his character.
Then, murmurings of support began.
"Quiet!" yelled Umbridge, "Quiet! Quiet!"
Eventually, the noise abated.
Umbridge reverted to her usual sweet tone: "Creevey, sit down at once, or you will find yourself in detention."
"I'm writing to the Minister," shouted Colin, "And I'm writing to the Old Students Organization. I'm not going to let our School be known as the thieves' school."
Umbridge opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Sea Jay shouted: "I'm writing to the Minister!"
Then other voices spoke, and other houses.
There was uproar, followed immediately by complete silence. Professor McGonagall had arisen.
"Dolores, dear," she said, "I think it quite possible that our noble action might indeed be misinterpreted by the outside world, and beg you to reconsider in view of the desirability of avoiding needlessly disturbing important people in these difficult times."
The irony of such obsequiousness was lost on no-one, least of all Umbridge, who, summoning up her dignity, said: "Minerva, dear, I think you make a good point; would you kindly organise matters?"
She left the hall.
Professor McGonagall waited until she had vanished and said: "Miles you will go immediately and fetch what you need. After lunch, you will repay all the stake-money, as I understand it is called. Now, food!"
She clapped her hands twice.
X X X
After lunch, Colin needed his watchdogs more than ever. All sorts of people wanted to befriend him.
Between energetic games of Chins and Wizard Golf, he found time to speak to Hermione.
"Congratulations, Hermione."
"Congratulations for what?"
"Little Miss Innocent! No-one else would have so quickly picked up the baton I dropped."
Hermione smiled: "You didn't drop it; Alexander did. And it wasn't right that all your splendid work should be spoiled because of one boy's affectionate impulse. Anyway you deserve the congratulations—not just for speaking out, but for selecting the only line of attack that would work."
"How do you mean?"
Well, if you'd just said It's not fair, she would have been able to say It was you who committed the breach of rules. Instead you accused her; and she didn't have any moral high ground left.
"I didn't think through any of that," smiled Colin.
"Doing right by instinct is a Gryffindor's best attribute."
They drifted apart and the watchdogs moved in, always including the much-envied Alexander Bell, who was awestruck by the way his hero had fought for justice; and the beloved, Dennis, who saw nothing special about his brother that Saturday: Colin was totally brilliant every day.
"Are you going to read Al a ghost story tonight." asked Dennis, as they walked by the lake in the beautiful evening air.
"Yeah, looking forward to it," said Colin.
"I think you should both be in the nude," said Dennis.
"Yes please!" said Alexander.
Colin wasn't so sure: "The others'll see and I don't want them to think I'm just friends with Al for sex."
"All curtains drawn, and they won't even see your wandlight," said Dennis, "And I'll come along and police them. I'll sleep at the foot of your bed."
"Good idea, Den!" said Colin.
Never was the call First-years to bed more eagerly awaited; and never so quickly obeyed.
So, in pitch blackness, Colin and Alexander undressed and nestled together, before Colin lit his wand and began reading:
Some time ago I believe I had the pleasure of telling you the story of an adventure which happened to a friend of mine by the name of Dennistoun, during his pursuit of objects of art for the museum at Cambridge.
"You did, Colin!" came James's voice.
"Shut up, Carter," said the intelligent Euan, "That's the start of the new story!"
Colin continued to read, as Alexander stroked his neck . . . then his chest . . .
. . . It was quite true. There was no figure, and there was the open window
Alexander's hand was exploring Colin's privates. It felt all over the willy, squeezed the balls, and returned to stroke the willy.
Colin unleashed what felt like gallons of cum over Alexander's tummy.
"Er . . . Sorry lads; I lost the place."
"Take your time, Col," said Dennis, who Colin knew was well aware of what had happened.
Colin picked up the story, as Alexander kissed his neck . . . then his chest . . .
. . . and that, though carefully watched, it has never been known to change again.
There were Thank you, Colins, and then Goodnights.
Colin disengaged Alexander's mouth from his penis and drew the boy up to a going-to-sleep cuddle.
He was drifting off when there came a loud, treble-voiced Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Oh!
"Shut up, Abercrombie," muttered someone.
Colin had been slightly startled, but then realised that Euan must have been having one of his half-asleep wanks.
Funny, he thought, Euan had sounded wide-awake. There was a story there, but it was a story for another day . . .
THE END