Contents
1. The Fifth Virginity 1
2. A Busy First Day 11
3. Night And Day 24
4. Adrian Pucey 34
5. Spreading The Word 41
6. Tom's Midnight Adventure 51
7. Saturday Night's Alright For . . . 65
8. A Conspiracy 74
9. The High Inquisitor 83
10. The First Meeting 93
11. Seven Busy Days 102
12. The Fifth Of October 114
13. Steady Progress 126
14. The Oldest Spell 142
15. Boys In Love Take On Salazar 153
16. The Jiggers' Christmas Treat 163
17. Polyjuice 173
18. Christmas 177
19. Electricity185
20. Osiris And St Valentine 190
21. Quidditch and Osiris 198
22. Goodbye Salazar, Goodbye Brian 205
23. Jeg Elsker Dig 210
— CHAPTER ONE —The Fifth VirginityIt was a dark, but not stormy, night. Two great columns, like threatening giants, supported a massive pair of iron gates. There was silence. It seemed like an eerie nightmare.
Then came the sound of a motor car engine—not an ordinary sound, but the purr that came from six Muggle litres of expensive German engineering.
The purr grew louder and, at an angle of thirty degrees, a dark limousine touched down, drawing to a stop outside the open gates.
A chauffeur stepped out and opened the rear door to allow an elegantly-dressed woman to emerge. At the same time, the other rear door opened and a small shock-haired boy jumped out.
The woman waved something and a cabin trunk floated from the rear of the car and came to rest just inside the gates. A bird-cage landed on top.
The woman approached the small boy and tried to smooth his hair.
"Daniel! We should have gone to the barber's yesterday. What will Professor McGonagall think? Have you remembered everything? You will let me know if you need anything, won't you? I packed your woolly underpants, but you might need a few more pairs; I'll send them tomorrow. And wear them—you know how our side of the family is prone to Mooncalf Flu. And don't study too hard. You're only thirteen—"
"Oh, Mum, stop fretting! I've done six terms without being cursed. I'll be OK!"
The woman wrapped her arms around the boy.
"My little boy, a Fourth-year! I'm so proud!"
The boy hugged his mother and kissed her.
As she got back in the car, he called: "Bye Mum! Thanks Mister Bates!" and stood waving until the car had vanished into the dark sky.
Danny opened the cage and an owl flew out, perched for a moment on Danny's shoulder, then set off on a range of wide, joyful casts.
Danny took out his wand, Levitated the trunk and cage and set off down the drive. He might have been Nicholas of Cologne leading his pack-mule and followed by the rest of the Children's Crusade across the Alps, but he starting singing cheerfully—singing a song unknown to the saintly Nicholas:
We are from Hogwarts, good boys are we,
We've said goodbye to our virginity,
We live in a castle
And we take it up the arse'le
'Cos we are from Hogwarts School!
He paused after the first verse. He could hear wheels turning on gravel and moved to the side to allow a procession of horseless coaches pass. He could not see inside the coaches, but their torches allowed the occupants to see him. A couple of dozen coaches had passed before a girl called out: "Danny!"
For the rest of the procession he was subject to greetings, wolf-whistles, ribald remarks and one sad little girl, protected by anonymity, calling: "Danny! I love you!"
Above all the other voices, he heard: "Show us yer kit, Danny!" He recognized the raucous voice of Barry Elliott, one of his dorm-mates. Barry had been the first in the dorm to develop, and his puberty—every boy's dream—involved nightly inspection of his body by his four companions, who then took it in turns to pull him off.
Danny was grateful that, during his first two years at Hogwarts, his dorm-mates had been willing to explore each other sexually. Of course, it was too much to hope that all five would grow up to be gay, but he did hope that that the other four would be willing and eager to spend the rest of their time at Hogwarts exploring male sexuality to a greater depth. Danny would have to take things slowly, perhaps starting with a fairly sanitized game of Twister.
Barry was bound for the Wizard Navy and would probably grow up to have a witch in every port and a dashing propensity for wizard-fun at sea.
David Ward, on the other hand, was gay and would always be gay. Without knowing what he was doing, and despite being a shy, mousey, boy, he had signalled his otherness from the first term by growing his hair long—very long: it was down to his waist and only pony-tailed when he was astride a broom.
Then there were Nicholas White and Stephen Buckell, so completely friendly and loving. They were both Muggle-born and had had troubled childhoods. To them the dorm was their true home.
Danny mentally contrasted his dorm with Harry's dorm. They were two years older and should have been taking the lead, but Danny had made overtures to all five and been rebuffed. It was a matter of education and Danny intended to see that the new intake got a good enough education to at least know their options.
As he reached the castle, passengers from the last coaches were debouching and entering the great front door. His owl swooped in to land on his shoulder. He tickled it for a few seconds, then gave it an owl-treat, saying: "Off to the Owlery and see your friends, Tickles!"
The owl brushed his cheek with its wing feathers as it took off. Danny wondered if Harry Potter would ever stroke his cheek. He would see him in a few minutes. He did so want Harry to be his first shagee—and to enjoy it!
With his stiff penis pointing the way, he entered the castle, sent his trunk floating up the stairs and turned into the Great Hall.
Amidst the confusion he saw Harry. He looked a bit pensive. Perhaps he was down and needed comforting. Tonight might be the night!
He sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table between Dennis and Colin. There was an explosion of greetings, then everyone started jabbering as they exchanged news and told each other what they had been doing all summer.
"I wish we could tell!" said Dennis.
"We will one day, when it's all over," said Danny.
Jonny Neal leant over the table and asked: "Are you sitting comfortably, Danny?"
"So Sea Jay told you," grinned Danny.
"Of course he did! You should have started with me and worked your way up—or let me work my way up. I'll show you later, if you want."
"You're third in the queue. If Harry Potter won't oblige, I'll join the dorm reunion."
Sea Jay joined in: "Just as well: Jonny and me've got a bitta catching up to do." He whispered something into Jonny's ear and Jonny smiled and whispered back.
Jonny was as tall and strong as Sea Jay. You couldn't call him good-looking and he had a fair amount of acne, but when he smiled there was a sort of inner light that touched Danny's heart.
Dennis Creevey interrupted the idyll: "I've done it too, haven't I Dan?"
His brother Colin interposed: "Don't tell the world, Den, not everyone's interested."
"We are," said Lavender Brown, "what have you boys been doing?"
"Nothing important compared to what I'm going to do." said Danny.
"What's that?" asked Lavender.
"Harry Potter! I always do the opening feast with him. This year I'm a grown-up and I'm going to offer Harry something I couldn't before. It's my big day!"
There were cheers and laughs as Danny got up and went to sit by Harry.
While the dreadful Umbridge was speaking, Danny avoided looking at her toad-like features by ranging over Harry Potter's friends. Freckle-faced Seamus, who must have split up with Lavender Brown, was staring into space. Cool, lithe Dean Thomas was looking at Harry . . . then Danny . . . then back to Harry—clearly, he too was ignoring Umbridge. Then there was Ron: the ugly, gangling Ron; Harry's best friend. Were he and Harry doing it? Was that why Harry was so unresponsive? But, as soon as the thought came, Danny knew that it wasn't so: surely Ron and Hermione belonged together; they may neither of them have known it, but, oddly matched as they were, there was a sort of joint aura uniting them.
He looked at Hermione, whose courage and witchy skills he so admired. She sensed Danny's glance, looked at him and nodded. Danny nodded back and showed her a thumbs-down. They both knew that Umbridge had been sent by the Ministry to do a hatchet-job on Dumbledore and Harry.
To his left, Neville Longbottom yawned. Danny had been enjoying their bum-to-bum warmth and took hold of Neville's hand under the table. Neville clasped Danny's hand tightly. Danny admired Neville greatly. He knew that, despite Nature having given him a wimpy appearance, Neville was a loyal, gutsy boy. He worshipped Harry Potter and he loved Danny and Colin because they worshipped Harry too. But Danny could see that the boy's soul yearned for Ginny Weasley who also worshipped Harry. Life was complicated.
Suddenly everything was over and people were leaving. Ron and Hermione had rushed off to do their prefectly duties. Harry had rushed off too, presumably because the stares and whispers were getting him down. Danny made for Draco Malfoy. He had plans for Draco this term and, unusually for Danny, these did not include sex. He said hello to Draco, mentioning their fathers, searched in vain for Adrian Pucey—he of the beautiful, deep-set eyes, and death eater parents—who he had earlier observed eating quietly at the Slytherin table, and returned to the huddle of students filing through the door.
"Game of cards, Danny?" said Colin, "First night, you're not gonna study tonight are you?"
"No! Early night in the dorm tonight, Danny!" said Nicholas White, a fair-haired lad with a face as impish as Danny's. Despite being extremely pre-pubescent and clearly destined as one of Nature's heteros, Nick was as keen as anyone on frolicking late at night in the dorm—or at any other time and place.
"Hi Danny!" said a Hufflepuff boy in a refined Scotch accent—the sort known in his country as Morningside.
Danny turned. "Hi Jimmy!"
Jimmy Millar had a sharp, clever face, framed by long, black, frizzy hair. He was known for his smart dress and was wont to enliven gaps between lessons with quick sessions in lavatory cubicles with Danny.
"Danny, I'd like you to meet a friend. This is Ian Berry. We're both from Edinburgh and we saw an awful lot of each other this summer. Ian's always wanted to meet you."
"Pleased to meet you, Ian." said Danny, shaking the boy's hand, "I clocked you last year and hoped the Sorting Hat would put you in Gryffindor."
Ian Berry was an olive-skinned boy with the sort of cast that is amusingly called a lazy eye. He was currently blushing, probably amazed that Danny had noticed him, let alone been interested in him.
"Well I'm glad he's in Hufflepuff!" said Jimmy, "and I wish you were too, Danny!"
"Houses are just a means of making some boy's beds less accessible to me," said Danny, "Has Jimmy told you that we manage to meet in other places?"
The still-blushing boy nodded.
"So perhaps the three of us will meet up soon. Would you like that?"
Ian spoke for the first time, blurting out: "I really like you, Danny!" and then blushed even more deeply.
"How about nipping off now?" said Jimmy Millar.
"Sorry, no. I've got responsibilities to the home team this evening. See you soon though!" And smiling his goodbyes he turned and headed for Gryffindor tower.
Talking of teams . . .
He raced to buttonhole Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.
"Hi, Angelina!"
"Danny. Don't tell me you're taking up Quidditch!"
"No. I just wanted an opinion."
"My opinion is that you're a wizard whose natural skill and training would make you a likely Quidditch star."
"Shut up, Angelina! I want to know about Adrian Pucey."
"Excellent Chaser. He's in Slytherin, sadly. But he's the only Slytherin who's never cheated. If you took up Quidditch, you'd be able to meet him."
"Angelina! You've known me for two years. When did I need help in meeting boys?"
"Well, when you do meet him, meet him the night before we're playing Slytherin and tire him out."
"Or raise his game as he'd have someone to impress."
"There is that," allowed Angelina, "but, seriously: just turn up for the trials—five o'clock on Friday—no commitment."
"Seriously: not a hope. I'm a duffer on a broomstick!"
They had reached the portrait hole and climbed through.
On this first night of term the common room was in chaos. Girls' voices were predominant, and Danny momentarily wished he were in a single-sex school, but, even if they were his rivals in boy-chasing, girls were such fun and soon he was exchanging holiday experiences with a swarm of twelve- to fifteen-year-old girls.
His eyes strayed round the room. The first-years had gone straight up to their dorms. There were a couple of knots of serious-looking students—discussing Harry, no doubt. But elsewhere was Bedlam, with games being played and the Weasley twins noisily calling for volunteers—presumably to test their Skiving Snackboxes.
The evening wore on and, by the time Danny thought of joining Colin and Dennis, Hermione was going round the room calling out: "Nine o'clock! Fourth-years to their dormitories, please."
Colin came up to him and said: "Danny! Sea Jay and Jonny are really keen. Now Harry's fallen through, forget his dorm and your dorm. Why not come to mine?"
Danny smiled. "Better sort out my lot tonight. But I'm still saving the best for Harry!"
They parted with a kiss and, wondering if he might make an effort to slip into Harry's dorm later that night, he walked into his own dorm.
Thoughts of saving it for Harry were wiped from his mind by the joyous sight that greeted him: it was like prayer-time at a muslim nudist-camp: four little figures knelt, their heads bowed to touch the floor, their arms stretched in front of them. Four little bums stuck in the air—well, one not so little—and offered him what Harry had refused.
As soon as he had closed and locked the door, a chorus of Pick me, Danny! Pick me, Danny! started. Danny laughed his head off. At the same time he was touched that the boys clearly thought that being the first recipients of his boy-juice would be an honour. His laugh changed to an elated smile as he realised that taking things slowly would not be necessary.
He dashed to his bed stripped, then returned to the boys.
"Whatever happens, keep quiet and keep still," he told them.
He bent down and, in a manner that was now familiar to him, placed his hands on the cheeks of the second boy from the left. This was David Ward, quiet, long-haired, nondescript and, like Danny, destined for a life of intense gayness. He squeezed and wiggled David's bum, exposing a little brown hole so perfect in its pucker that it reminded him of the Muggle technical expression Chocolate Starfish.
He bent and inhaled deeply: nothing but a slight sausagey smell.
He shifted to Stephen Buckell and placed his hands on his large bum. It quivered like a jelly. Stephen was a jolly-looking boy, but he had come to Hogwarts with a hunted look in his eyes. He was Muggle-born and had suffered a lot of teasing from teachers and schoolfellows for his tubbiness. Two years at Hogwarts had restored his natural happiness. His handsome face—unusually freckly for a black-haired boy—was always breaking into smiles. If one were unkind, one might call him stupid, but his real character was in his liking for others. He already had a career-target: Wizarding Healthcare.
Stephen's fat bum had a big hole. Danny giggled. It had to be big considering the amount of food Stephen put away. Danny sniffed: just a hint of mustiness: Stephen was on the turn!
He moved to Baz Elliott. The cheeks were slightly fuzzy and slightly spotty. "Pick me, Danny!" he said.
"Quiet, idiot!" said Danny, in a not-very-good imitation of Snape.
He rubbed Barry's bum gently. It was quite rough: already becoming the bum of a rollicking sea-dog. He squeezed it and felt the deep muscular structure. He opened the cheeks and exposed a somewhat hairy hole with a more deeply-set position than most. Danny giggled as he thought of a Muggle sea-song called Shallow Brown. What was most interesting about this hole, though, was the fact that it was more elliptical than circular—almost a vertical slit. Danny shuddered and his erection drooped a few degrees. One day, as part of his general education, Danny had overcome his nausea and looked at the female section of an anatomy book.
He bent and took a good sniff at Barry's bumhole. There it was! The authentic generic scent of Male Bum with a unique Elliott overlay. Not as wondrous as Colin's, but he could live with this smell. He had another deep inhalation and moved on.
Nick White was the most physically immature of the four. He was as small as Danny, but he was a born sportsman and his muscles were strong and co-ordinated. His tiny bum was a dream: smaller, shaplier and sexier even than the Piers Polkiss Penis-Puller. It felt so good too! As his hands roamed over this utterly delightful body, Danny's willy leapt up to full attention and he felt a gush of pre-cum flow out. He parted the cheeks and saw that Nick's hole was in proportion: it was like a little brown pea with a sweet little dot of pink at the centre. As expected, it was nearly odourless with just a hint of a leathery sort of smell.
Danny got up. "So far so good!" he said, "You're all gorgeous!"
He was impressed by the cleanliness of the boys. He thought of the state of rent boy Darren and smiled to himself.
He returned to David Ward and placed his face between the cheeks. He licked the hole softly and felt David tense in astonishment. Then he pressed harder.
"Oh Danny! Oh Danny!" said David and there were answering cries of What's he doing, Wardy? and Is it Nice?
"Quite quiet boys," he mumbled in an even-worse imitation of Professor Flitwick, then pressed his tongue further into David.
His urge was becoming stronger. He had to cut things short. He dashed over and fetched his wand. Lubricio! he said to David's bum and immediately pressed his willy against the hole.
"Boys, you all know that the one who deserves it is the one who's been brave enough to be Different from Day One!" he said.
The tip slid in easily and soon he was fully inside David and twitching to and fro. He groaned with pleasure and this was a signal for the other three to jump up and gather round to spectate.
Oh God, this is good he thought. He was losing his fifth, and final, virginity with his own dearly-loved bedroom-companions! He was shagging the unassuming David Ward! And he would not be pulling out! He looked down and everything was perfect: David's long hair, splayed out on either side; the narrow shoulders, the protuberant vertebrae, the pale flesh. He could feel David's bumcheeks pressing into his groin.
He pushed harder and harder, barely hearing the others asking Is it good, Wardy? Is it good, Danny?
When the orgasm started he thought I'm squirting into David! He could not stop himself bleating Oh! Yeah! Yeah! YEAH!, the last at deafening volume, as he seemed to be expelling his whole body into David.
He collapsed and kissed David's back. The lads were full of questions starting with Stephen's Did you come, Danny? After Danny had got his breath back, it was established that David thought it was really nice but had not felt Danny's fluid entering him; Danny thought it was totally, totally brilliant; the watchers had thought it fantastic.
All four of them looked at Danny's willy, admiring and feeling its wetness and stroking the recently grown pubic fuzz. The fuzz was moist too, giving Nick the idea: "David! There's probably Danny-cum inside you. Try and shit it out!" But nothing was forthcoming—not even a fart.
The sight of David's bumhole gave Barry the thought: "Wardy, will you be the first to take my juice, too?"
There was immediate opposition to idea. All the lads had noticed that Barry's kit had grown a lot over the summer. He had a real man-sized stiffie, now dripping pre-cum and a promisingly large pair of eggs.
It was Stephen who crystallised their thoughts: "We won't see you come if you shag Wardy. Give us an exhibition!"
So Barry lay on his bed, with two boys crouched on each side of him and started wanking.
Danny stroked Barry's legs and the other lads took the cue and stroked the nearest part of Barry to them.
Barry was pleased with this and immediately shot two little spurts, a big one, another little one and a final dribble. There was a chorus of wows—especially for the respectable four-inches that had shot out in a straight line like a meteor trail.
Danny bent down and smelt Barry's cum. "That's real man's cum, Baz!" he said and the other three had a sniff too.
Then Danny dipped his finger in and tasted the fluid. David immediately followed suit, and took a second helping. He savoured the taste then said: "I've got cum in my mouth and my arse!"
The boys laughed, but Danny saw that Stephen and Nicholas were a bit dubious.
"You don't have to do what you don't want to," he said, "Everyone's different and everyone should get pleasure in their own way. And each of us wants the other four to be happy."
But Stephen and Nicholas helped themselves manfully.
Then Stephen said: my pleasure would be to get a shag off you, Dan. I see you're up for it!"
Indeed, Danny was rampant and randy again.
"That would be my pleasure too, Steve!"
Stephen resumed the muslim prayer position.
Danny laughed and said: "Get up Steve and I'll show you something that I only learned last week."
He took Stephen over to his bed and arranged him on his back in the position that Sea Jay had taught him. There was another chorus of wow! as the implications sank in, and yet another as Danny knelt and started licking Stephen's hole.
"Did he do that to you, David?" asked Barry.
"Yeah, it's magic!"
Danny did a Lubricio! but it probably was unnecessary as his willy slid straight in. He started shagging movements. He would have liked to snog Stephen, but couldn't reach, so settled for sucking a nipple.
He could feel Stephen wanking himself and then he felt a hand stroking his bottom.
"You're arse looks brilliant!" came from David.
"Yeah!" from Nicholas and another hand started stroking.
Stephen suddenly said: "This is great . . . Oh it's so good . . . Oh! Danny . . . Oh! . . ."
Danny started shagging harder and Stephen, with a final gasp, stopped wanking.
The reason for Barry's silence became clear to Danny when a spurt of hot fluid landed on his bottom, then a second spurt.
This was all so exciting that Danny experienced another gut-wrenching orgasm and, panting, got up and lay beside Stephen with an arm round his neck.
"I reckon I came," gasped Stephen after a bit, but a close inspection revealed no fluid.
"You must have had a dry orgasm," suggested Danny, "I used to have these."
"Whatever it was, it was brilliant!"
"And it was brilliant wanking over your arse!" came from Barry.
"Everything's brilliant!" came from Nick and all concurred.
The lads were tired—all of them had been had been up early for last-minute packing and four of them had spent hours romping on the Hogwarts Express. By unspoken agreement they switched over to the more mundane matters of unpacking, pyjamas and toothbrushes.
Before they got into bed, Danny got on a chair and made a speech: "Ladies and Gentlemen. I'd like to thank you for the welcome you gave me, which was a sight I'll never forget."
"Danny," said Barry "If you'd like to thank us for the welcome we gave you, which was a sight you'll never forget, why don't you?"
"Good idea! Thank you for the welcome you gave me, which was a sight I'll never forget. And thank you for the athletic way in which you've left me so happy and exhausted. I have one last proposal: every night, in a world threatened by Voldemort, we should remind ourselves of what really matters in this way."
He jumped down and went up to David, who was nearest, wrapped his arms tightly round him and gave him a brief kiss, sticking his tongue in as far as it would go.
Breaking off, he said "I love you, David!" and moved on to Nick.
Danny didn't know it, but it was the two-year exposure to his affection and sweetness that had conditioned the young wizards to accept something that most of their contemporaries would have viewed as unacceptably soppy.
The other four picked up the innovation willingly—keenly, even—and, after ten embraces, they went to bed—Nick very quickly, probably because he wanted to go for a dry orgasm of his own.
Later, Danny stretched out in his bed and had time to think of the wonderful day that had passed and the wonderful day that was to come before sleep washed over him.
He awoke with someone in bed with him. Harry had come to visit! He moved a hand and felt a naked torso. Harry was tougher than he looked! He let the hand wander. This was a big boy. Not Harry! He moved his head and his nose touched a neck. He moved it down to the back of the boy's armpit. There was a delicious African smell!
"Dean?" he whispered.
"Danny, I came for my bronze medal! Harry said no to you and he's got a lot on his mind, anyway; and Ron's a no-hoper for you, so here I am!"
"Oh, Dean—"
"Don't say a word! You've earned it! You're always so friendly and honest, so I'm really proud of my bronze!"
"Oh, Dean! It's the wrong sort of bronze!"
"Whadyer mean?"
"I shagged two boys tonight."
"Don' matter: if you got the energy I got the bumhole!"
"I've got the energy, you sweet boy!"
Danny charmed Dean's hole into slipperiness and moved his left hand down to locate Dean's bum. The cheeks were firm and muscular. Danny would have liked some light to show him if Dean's bum was the same shade of black as the rest of him and if it looked as beautiful as it felt.
He found the hole—not much bigger than Nick's—and pressed it with his forefinger.
"Crikey! You've got a tight bumhole, Dean!"
"Virgin bumhole waiting for you, brother!"
Even with Dean doing his best to help him, it was a hard job getting his finger up.
Danny was very horny by now. His willy was poking through the pee-flaps of his pyjamas.
"Best use the force of gravity," he said, rolling onto his back, "Why not try sitting on me?"
In one lithe motion, Dean drew up his legs, turned and crouched astride facing Danny. A real athlete! he thought.
Dean felt beneath him and located Danny's willy. He lowered his bottom so that the ferret was looking down the hole, then slowly released more and more of his weight. Danny's willy went smoothly up Dean and he immediately started thrusting. Dean supported himself with knees and hands so that Danny didn't have to lift Dean with every thrust.
Danny was happy. He wasn't quite as randy as he'd been earlier, but to compensate was the fact that he was shagging Dean Thomas! Big Dean Thomas who slept in the same bedroom as Harry every night!
He believed Dean's claim to a virgin hole, but he thought a fabulous boy like Dean must have had some sexual activity in the past. He reached out his hand and met his largest hands-on willy yet (Danny had merely viewed Mundungus Fletcher's whopper, and had only seen limp. He had seen Adrian's stiff, but at a distance.) Dean's was quite a lot bigger than the death eater Jugson's, and it was sticky! Dean was being turned on! He started gently stroking Dean but stopped almost immediately as his own orgasm crept up on him.
The waves of pleasure were as intense as earlier, but didn't last as long. He sleepily wondered if he actually had pumped any boy-juice into Dean. Perhaps the mark two bronze medal was still up for grabs!
He laughed breathlessly and said: "Respect, Dean!"
"Respect yourself, Danny! I needed something to take my mind off all this stuff about Harry. It's even reached our dorm: Harry and Seamus nearly came to duelling and Ron was coming over the prefect on them."
"Oh, prefect! I forgot to take the mick. I'll put that right tomorrow. And, as for Seamus, that's just because he's had eight weeks ear-bending from his mum."
"True, but don't mention it near Seamus: he's very sensitive right now."
"You need some more relaxation, Deano! Why not slide that big, rubbery penis into my mouth?"
"This is your treat, mate!"
"Exactly! Please slide that big, rubbery penis into my mouth!"
Dean waddled forward and obliged. Danny took the big bell-end in his mouth and gripped the shaft. He started to suck and wanked Dean gently a few times but his hand fell away and he drifted towards sleep.
He dreamed that he had dived into an over-chlorinated Muggle swimming pool. He was at a peak of happiness and swam to the surface, spat out the water in his mouth and took a joyous breath of air.
The foamy waters were rippling over his face and sliding down to his chest. He laughed and wiped the water out of his eyes. It was unusually sticky.
Sticky?
He came to full consciousness and recognized the big beast crouched over him as Dean. He reached out and found the willy and took it back into his mouth. Dean's orgasm had reached the oozy stage but he was able to enjoy the last few throbs while toying with as plummy a pair of knackers as he had ever felt.
Dean was as short of breath as Danny and he continued squatting for a bit before sliding down the bed and lying at Danny's side.
Danny took off his sodden pyjama-top; then his pyjama-bottoms which he used to wipe his face and chest.
"You're a very splashy boy, Dean!"
"I've been sort of saving myself."
"For me?"
"For . . . anything that came up."
"And how did you manage to get in here?"
"A little help from the Weasley twins."
"I really must have a long consultation with them soon!"
"Danny, before I go, can I ask you a favour?"
"Of course, Deano!"
"Where I come from the lowest thing you can do is take it up the bum. If you're known as a batty-boy, you don't get no respect. You can be Prime Minister, win the Nobel Prize, save Earth from an alien invasion, score the winning goal in the FA Cup Final, but if you're a batty-boy it means nothing. You're a joke; not a proper man; inferior; contemptible—"
"Alright, alright! I get it! Not a word; I promise! But what about that snog in Diagon Alley?"
"That's nowhere near as bad. Anyway, everyone will know it was a joke except the girls who'll pretend to themselves that it was serious and see me as an attractive target for conversion."
"Good luck with the girls, then, Dean!"
"Thanks, Danny! And a good night to you!"
Dean allowed Danny a peck and crept off, a slinky shadow in the dark dormitory.
Danny's last thought before falling into a sleep full of sweet, sweet dreams was: To think all I'd hoped for from tonight was a mild game of Twister!
— CHAPTER TWO —A Busy First DayNext morning Danny's first task was to clean up his pyjamas, sheets and pillows. Then he noticed two great dribbly splash-marks on his bed-head. Imagine nodding off through that! He thought of the pleasure he had taken when, in the form of Tom Warrington, he had pumped his, albeit lesser, spurts on the upturned faces of Colin and Dennis. He resolved to watch out for future occasions when Dean had sort of been saving himself and enjoy the five-star Thomas immersion treatment while fully awake. He thought of his ruminations on cum-size at Victoria Station and decided that it was an even bigger factor than he had allowed for at the time.
Drawing back the curtains around his bed, he saw that his four friends were also waking slowly into the new day.
Far from abashment at the dubious antics of the night before, their demeanour was one of happiness. They all gave especially warm greetings to Danny, as well they might: in this world, there are millions of pubescent males whose lack of somewhere to stick their willies is a life-darkening burden. Thanks to Danny, the third-year boys of Gryffindor now had a guaranteed, everyday source of enjoyment which would keep them close and would always compensate, at least partially, for any slights and setbacks that the rest of Life could impose.
Chattering and bantering like sparrows, they washed, dressed and trouped down to the common room, which was nearly empty, and along the tortuous route to the Great Hall.
They settled together on the Gryffindor table, continuing with their chattering while spraying bits of breakfast at each other. When Danny had taken the edge of his appetite, he rose to his feet.
"Brave warrior Daniel Jorrocks renews his assault on Fortress Potter!" he shouted.
All the second, third and fourth-year boys—and some of the wilder girls—cheered and laughed encouragement as Danny made an offer to Harry which, alas, was again rebuffed.
Two big fourth-years went over and collected Danny.
"Come on Danny!" said Chris Harris, better known as Sea Jay.
"We've got plans to make!" said his friend, Jonathan Neil, as they frog-marched Danny to sit between them.
"Waste not, want not!" said Danny, drawing his wand and summoning, with a quiet Accio!, his half-eaten kipper from further down the table. "Specially as it was a heavy night last night!"
"Just the dorm boys?" asked Jonny.
"Yeah, we were all pleased to see each other!"
"And did I hear you tell Harry that he could be number four?" asked Sea Jay.
"I told you it was a heavy night!"
"We had quite a heavy night too, Danny!" said Sea Jay.
"We talked about what we'd like to do with you," said Jonny.
"It was hot!" said Sea Jay.
"You were hot!" said Jonny sweetly.
"Talk me through it," said Danny, but they were interrupted by the racket from dozens of owls which came soaring in through the upper windows.
Danny received a package—the dreaded winter woollies from his mother—and a letter:
Dear Daniel,
Have a good term!
Dad XXX
He smiled. It was nice to know that Mum and Dad were always there.
He looked over the table and saw Ray Kelly poring over a large, pink sheet of parchment. Glancing over at the Ravenclaw table, he saw that Trinity Freeman was reading a scroll as big as one of Snape's punishment-essays. It looked as though two of the owls had had very short journeys.
Young Love was so sweet! Danny felt a moment's disquiet. He wondered if there was something wrong with him: he loved so many people; perhaps he should be seeking for The One. Then he looked up and down the table and thought: No, no, no! Love is Universal!
His eyes were drawn to the Gryffindor first-years. There was no trace of shyness now! They were jabbering away—two or three at once—and occasionally glancing at Danny.
At the other three tables, the first-years were giving a similar performance. By the time Danny rose with Sea Jay and Jonny to go to the first lesson, Hermione, perhaps fearing a prank by the Weasley twins, switched to bossy-boots mode and stalked up to the Gryffindor first-years.
"What's the commotion?"
"It's this letter, Miss."
"May I see?"
The tiny Euan Abercrombie handed over a letter which Hermione read in silence, though Danny knew its contents:
To All First-Year Boys
It's a bit of a shock coming to Hogwarts. I remember it well and I remember how lost and lonely I felt. There are some areas in particular that I wish had been explained to me by older students. I would like to tell you about my experiences of the last two years and so invite you all to a five-minute meeting:
Thursday7 P.M. in the Old Muniments Room (2 Doors down from Library)
Daniel Timothy Jorrocks (Danny to You)
Danny sidled up to Hermione.
"I suppose you're going to find a school rule to apply to this," he said, "well it's too late: Pandora's Box is open."
"Don't be silly, Danny!" smiled Hermione, "If it's about what I think it's about, it's an excellent idea. Someone should have done it years ago. And this year, especially: it's not just about helping people; it's about uniting people; it's about friendship between houses. I bet you're in whatever equivalent of good books the Sorting Hat has."
"Sorry, I should have known you'd take a sensible view, Hermione. And I've got a plan to encourage all the houses, if you know what I mean, to join in."
"Good luck!" she said and handed the letter back to Euan Abercrombie.
His first lesson of the term was Care of Magical Creatures. Ten students from Gryffindor and Ten from Slytherin strolled down to Hagrid's hut, still catching up with each other's holiday experiences.
Professor Grubbly-Plank proved to be an intelligent, friendly no-nonsense woman.
"Mornin' all!" she exclaimed, "Now it's a new school year and I've got a new creature for you. I was going to give you a fresh clutch of Blast-Ended Skrewts, which Professor Hagrid pioneered so successfully last year, but people didn't think it was the right kind of thing."
She led them to a pen which was arranged as a Muggle garden with seedlings in pots, plants in the ground, plaster (not plastic) gnomes and windmills. A number of prickly creatures roamed the pen, grubbing for things to eat. Professor Grubbly-Plank asked: "Now who can tell me what these creatures are?"
There was a general murmur of hedgehogs and a Slytherin girl said loudly: Oh, yeah! Very magical!
"Well, let's just see!" said the professor, picking up a bowl of earthworms and tipping them into the pen.
Immediately some of the creatures ran (yes, hedgehogs can run) towards Professor Grubbly-Plank and started feasting.
The rest, though, went on a berserk wrecking spree, grubbing up plants, overturning pots and biting through the seedlings. They even acted in concert to smash gnomes and pots together.
The students watched in fascination as Professor Grubbly-Plank started dropping pieces of bread soaked in milk among the worm-eaters.
Immediately the rogue creatures made a rush for the new food and fed as innocently as the others.
"Anyone explain what we've seen?" asked the Professor.
There was a pause and then Ray Kelly said: "Er—are they Knarls, Miss?"
"Quite right, Raymond!" said the Professor, "Five points to Gryffindor! And for another five points, what's goin' on?"
They were all stumped so Professor Grubbly-Plank explained: "When I put down the worms, the Knarls thought I was tryin' to poison 'em so they got their revenge by wrecking the place; but when I put down the bread, the Knarls thought it was just for the hedgehogs so they knew they could feed safely."
There was a murmur of appreciation.
"Now can any of you see any other difference between Knarls and hedgehogs?" she asked.
A further murmur, this time of negation, came.
"Well, you're quite right," said the Professor, "There aint anything you can see. So remember about Knarls: they come up every year in the O.W.L.s"
"That was a good lesson," said Colin, as they walked back to the school.
"Yeah. Shame about the essay, though," laughed Danny.
Professor Grubbly-Plank had set them an essay: What does Indirect Feeding of Knarls Teach us about Care of Other Magical Creatures?
"Never mind about the essay!"
Sea Jay and Jonny had approached from behind.
"Yeah, tell us about last night, Danny," said Jonny.
"Oh, yeah, Danny," said Colin, contorting his body in joyful anticipation, "You offered Harry number four!"
"Well," began Danny, "I got up to the dorm—"
"What are you boys up to now?" came Ginny's voice, "You're always up to something."
The girl with Ginny giggled loudly.
Sea Jay came to the rescue with a long diatribe about Knarls which spared Danny from having to talk to girls about sex.
They reached the mêlée on the front lawn. Danny was looking for Adrian Pucey, but his classmates were clamouring for the postponed revelations. He was about to begin again when . . .
"Danny!"
It was Jimmy Millar. Having caught Danny's attention with a shout, he now pressed his lips to Danny's ear and whispered: "I really need a piss!"
He had his little olive-skinned friend, Ian Berry, with him.
The ever-obliging Danny set off with the other two calling back to his classmates: "Sorry lads—priority call!"
"Is it true you do bumming now, Danny? Everyone's talking about it," said Jimmy.
"Give or take . . ."
The two boys giggled, though Ian seemed overawed by the occasion.
Jimmy continued: "Only Ian wants to try it but my tadger's too big."
"I'm sure mine's not."
He turned to Ian: "It's only a tiddler, Ian. Would you like it poked inside you?"
Ian turned the colour of a Red Indian and nodded.
They went to the Boys' on the ground floor of the main building. The stalls were palatial compared to Muggles' cottages and the Leaky Cauldron.
Jimmy had his underpants down in a trice and signed Ian to do the same.
"Wait a minute," whispered Danny, "New Rules: we always start with . . ."
He drew Jimmy into a deep snog, divining Jimmy's inexperience from his initial start and his subsequent clumsiness.
He made it short—this was only a fifteen-minute break—and turned to Ian who knew what was coming and gamely followed Danny's tongue as it roamed around his mouth. As Ian clutched Danny tightly, Danny felt Jimmy's hand stroking his back—and presumably Ian's hands.
He broke off again and crouched to look at Jimmy's willy. It was long, but quite skinny, and Danny was sure that, with a little love and endearment, it would slip into Ian.
He turned Jimmy round and sniffed his hole.
Soap.
He gave it a couple of licks.
Soap.
He got Jimmy to stand on the pedestal and turned his attention to Ian, who was looking astonished—probably thinking Did Danny kiss Jimmy's bumhole?
Danny wondered if he was taking things too quickly for Ian, but decided no: Ian was keen to be bummed, after all.
He fondled Ian's willy. It was tiny—even for a second-year—and his balls had not dropped. Yet he had sexual feelings and Danny felt proud that this day would be a big landmark in Ian's life.
He wrapped his lips around the willy and sucked gently. There was no hint of an erection. Nerves, thought Danny.
He turned the boy round and set him bent over the pedestal with his hands bracketing Jimmy's legs and braced against the wall.
He smelt the hole. There was a generic, sausagey, young-boy-bodyish sort of pong which told him that Ian had not washed down there for a few days. Good man!
He did a Lubricio and gently pushed a forefinger in.
"Is that OK?" he asked.
"It's nice," came the reply.
Without any more faffing about, he replaced his finger with his willy and found it easily entered to its full extent.
He felt a rising lust which made his whole body want to go into bang-bang mode but he had another thing to do first: he tugged Jimmy into a squat and looked at his penis.
Like Sea Jay, Jimmy had been an early developer and had grown a big bush over the holidays. Danny stroked it and found its texture matched the hair on Jimmy's head: an unusual combination of frizziness and silkiness.
He took the willy into his mouth and sucked, simultaneously starting his business with Ian: thrusting in and out so that his body banged against Ian's buttocks.
Jimmy came at once, surprising Danny who only avoided a coughing session by his superb wizard reactions which allowed him to close his airway and divert Jimmy's first spurt down to his stomach.
There was a lot of come for a thirteen-year-old—more even than with Baz Elliott; and it was hot—or perhaps Danny's mouth was cold after spending the morning outside.
Danny relaxed his sucks after the last of Jimmy's spurts and started banging Ian harder.
For a minute he thrust, revelling in the feel of Jimmy's bum in his hands, the flaccid willy in his mouth and the knowledge that he was initiating yet another gay boy into the joys of physicality.
He had a top-knotch orgasm and halted his movements, panting and leaking Jimmy-cum from his mouth.
They separated at once and started sorting out their clothing.
"What do you think, Ian?" whispered Danny.
"It's so nice. I feel so happy."
"You've come a long way in eight weeks, Danny," said Jimmy.
It was true. Their previous activity had been confined to fiddling and wanking. This had become more exciting when Jimmy started to come, but at that time Danny hadn't had any idea that cum could be swirled round the mouth for pleasure.
They left the cubicle, nodding without embarrassment to the boys they knew who were using the lavatory for more conventional purposes.
As they passed into the corridor, they said their see yers which were interrupted by:
"JORROCKS!"
It was Ron Weasley.
"Hello Ronny!" smiled Danny.
"Don't call me Ronny; I'm a prefect."
"Sorry, Sir! I did see your lovely bright new badge. I like it. It diverts my gaze from your face."
"Don't add cheekiness to your crimes."
"Oh! Crimes plural!"
"All this mucking about in the toilets. It's got to stop. You've got away with it in the past because you've been doing it with the prefects. Well here's one prefect who's incorruptible. It's detention next time I see you."
"Incorruptible, eh? Does the phrase Skiving Snackboxes mean anything to you?"
Ron blushed.
"That's got nothing to do with it. We're talking about your activities in the toilets."
"What, you mean the fact that I sometimes hold secret meetings in there? We're wizards; we always have secret things to talk about."
"I'm not talking about talking—er, I mean—well, you know what I mean."
"I suspect you mean Sex. If so, you must first establish that it's wrong and second prove that it's taking place."
"I don't—"
Danny interrupted: "On the first point: there's nothing in school rules or wizard law; and have you not heard of the Wizard Rights Act of 1832?"
"Er—"
Ron had, not surprisingly, never heard of this non-existent act.
Danny went into the attack: "Are you really a Gryffindor? We're meant to stand up against discrimination. What do you think Harry Potter's stance would be?—now there's someone who's incorruptible."
"Er—"
"And after I offered you my loving—second only to Harry. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Besides, there's the question of advancing wizard knowledge."
"Whatyer mean?" mumbled Ron.
Danny drew close and whispered: "I want to find out if your cum tastes like Fred and George's."
Ron blushed even more and could only manage "Er—"
He was saved by the bell.
"Come on, Ronny, darling! Which way are you going?"
They set off down the corridor and Ron said: "Look Danny, can't you just keep it discreet?"
Danny snorted: "There's been centuries of keeping it discreet."
"Well, as long as you don't call me darling in public."
"Only in private, then. . . . and any time you want a bit of private time with me . . ."
"In Harry's immortal phrase: N.O. spells NO."
"Harry's warm-hearted and one day he'll say Y.E.S. spells YES, and when he makes me the happiest boy in the world, don't take the mick out of him."
"Never!" said Ron.
"Well, you weren't on speakers for much of last year."
"We all make mistakes."
"Then perhaps you can just watch the two of us doing it."
"No fear!"
"Think about it anyway. You are in Gryffindor, after all. You're allowed to tickle your own draco dormiens."
Ron laughed. It was hard to be cross with Danny for long.
They parted at the first-floor landing and actually smiled at each other. Danny's banter would continue but there would no longer be an edge of Harry-related jealousy about it.
Danny's next lesson was English and Latin with Mrs Englishen-Latin—her real name was, of course, Mrs English.
The lesson was ridiculously simple for Danny so he took the opportunity to plan his campaign on the topics of The Fifth of October and You-know-where.
He was sure it all centred on Slytherin and he would have to make three parallel approaches: Adrian Pucey via his sexuality, Draco Malfoy through their fathers' connection and any Slytherin first-years who turned up for his gay help-sessions.
As Mrs E-L droned on—making, incidentally, mistakes that Danny could have corrected—his mind turned to the big non-Voldemort issue: male homosexual activity in Hogwarts School.
There were a number of current venues: empty classrooms, the grounds, the bogs, one's own dorm; but for various reasons, these were less than perfect: Danny wanted a permanent set-up whereby any two (or more) Hogwarts boys could spend a whole night together in security and comfort.
First stop would be the twins, but he reckoned that the real advances would have to come from himself: could he Disillusion a room, for example? Could he Illusion a sleeping figure in its own bed?
Then there was the question of alarms and passwords: since the Sirius Black scare, dormitory charms guarded against anyone slipping from one dorm to another at night.
Fred and George would sort that out for him, but inter-house was far more difficult than inter-dorm. The house portals were now magicked so that their password only worked for house members. Disillusionment Charms seemed to be indicated again.
Sighing he drew From Ocular to Corporeal from his bag and, for the rest of the lesson, submerged himself in it.
In the Charms class that followed, Danny had to pay greater attention. To his mortification he found himself deficient when it came to some straightforward charms. In the tasks that required pairing off, he worked with Luna Lovegood and even the vague Luna showed more precision than Danny in some of the basics.
He realised that he was a good runner but stumbled sometimes in walking. He must teach himself to concentrate more and, by the end of the lesson, he was totally focused in the world of Colour-Change Charms.
When Professor Flitwick released them, the class headed quickly and noisily towards lunch. Someone barged into Danny, turned and smiled: "Sorry, Danny!"
It was a pretty black-haired boy called Adam Watts and he had produced a particularly sweet smile, even allowing for the fact that fourth-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were comfortable with each other and as polite as might be expected.
Danny's Hogwarts sexual interest had so far been mainly centred on older boys. His fiddling with youngsters—the Creeveys, Jimmy, his dorm-mates and a few others—had been driven by Friendship and Love more than by Sex.
Now he felt a sense of elation as he realised that Sea Jay wasn't a freak: Danny's class-mates—four houses of them—were hot fourteen-year-olds with a tempest of hormones raging inside. True, half of them were girls and some of the rest might not be persuadable, but if Adam's smile was indicative, there were an awful lot of little boys who must now be thought of as big boys—big boys whose balls would enjoy being emptied by Danny's ministrations.
Moreover, since he had started squirting properly, he had lusted after little boys too; he had really enjoyed doing Ian Berry.
He smiled with sheer joy at the situation: he was a versatile gay boy surrounded and fancied by loads of other gay boys.
"Whatyer thinking of Danny?" asked Colin.
"Sex!"
"Tell us about last night."
"After lunch."
"No! Before lunch! Jonny! Sea Jay!"
The three of them bundled Danny onto the front lawn and Dennis came running up.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Danny's going to tell all!" said Sea Jay.
So Danny took the four of them through his adventures in the dormitory.
"This mysterious number three . . ." said Colin.
"I promised I wouldn't tell; all I'll say is that it wasn't Harry."
"Was it Ron Weasley?" asked Dennis, "Why was he shouting at you at break?"
"No further comment!"
"Yes, further comment!" said Sea Jay, "What about you and Jimmy Millar and—what's his friend called?"
"Ian Berry," said Danny, "That was just a quickie: I did Ian in the bum and sucked off Jimmy."
Dennis Creevey bounced: "Can I be number five, Dan? It's a prime number and I really want your juice."
"OK, Den."
"Now? Let's go to the classroom 3E store-room."
"Food first!" said Danny, and the others agreed that food was number one priority, though it was five erections that pointed the way to the castle.
After lunch, Danny asked Dennis to wait for him and approached the twins who were out on the front lawn seeking more volunteers for their Skiving Snackboxes.
Danny shooed away the watching crowd.
"Hiya Fred 'n' George; can I have a quiet word please?"
"Of course!" said a twin, "And thanks for volunteering."
"You don't want the money, I guess," said the other, "you want certain magical fluids emanating from certain magical Weasley organs."
"Happy to oblige!" said the first twin, "I think payment might be made before the trial as you might not be able to enjoy it afterwards."
"But then he might vomit it up."
"That would be a waste," agreed the twin.
Danny was laughing: "Boys, boys! I wouldn't touch your Skiving Snackboxes with a Limousine Broomstick. It's about another matter."
"Fire away, Danny!"
"I need to be able to go alone from one dorm to another at dead of night without raising an alarm."
The twins looked at each other.
"Difficult."
"Yeah, difficult."
"We can only do it by slinking in the wake of a genuine member."
"When you find out, let us know."
"What do you mean let you know?" said Danny impatiently, "You told Dean!"
The twins looked at each other again.
"Whoever told you that was having you on."
"Dean Thomas told me."
"Then Dean's having you on."
"But—"
Danny stopped himself just in time: Dean's visit was secret.
"Why won't you tell me?"
"There's nothing to tell."
And Danny could not persuade them otherwise.
He wandered away slightly hurt but then consoled himself that perhaps it was a Weasley family secret which Dean had been given, or had acquired through sharing a dormitory with Ron.
He perked up when he saw Dennis hanging about by the door. He was accompanied by a crowd of boys which, Danny saw with interest, included Christopher Gillies. It was Chris's brother Patrick—six years older than Chris—who had been the first to suck Danny's baby willy and whose own willy was the first grown-up one that Danny had touched.
Perhaps Chris would be totally gay like his brother, or maybe willing to make do for a bit. The prospects were not good, though, as Chris's best friend was Jimmy Peakes who, even in first year, had been sniffing around the girls.
The crowd had been hoping to spectate but Danny told them: "Just me and Dennis—and Colin, of course."
"No, just you two," said Colin, "It's Dennis's special moment."
So they went up to the third floor and shut themselves in the store-room.
They did a SICK (Security, Inspection, Cuddle, Kiss) and Dennis was soon bent over the lowest shelf with Danny grinding hard at his bumhole.
"Tell me when you come," said Dennis, "I want to know if you can feel a squirt."
"I don't think you can," panted Danny, as he nibbled Dennis's ear.
He banged away for a long time feeling great joy at the prospect of squirting his juice into sweet Dennis but, at the same time, feeling slightly sad that he couldn't do the same to Colin. Harry, for goodness' sake look after of your number one fan! he thought.
He was also aware that his willy was a little bit sore. He had spent much of the previous week with a sore bottom. This was different: he didn't enjoy willy-ache at all, whereas the painful twinges from his ringpiece had had overtones of pleasure.
At last he was able to whisper I'm coming! to Dennis who felt nothing except an urge to bum Danny and speedily followed up that urge, coming as quickly as Jimmy Millar.
They had a last loving kiss before leaving the cupboard.
"Good place, Den!" said Danny "How did you find it?"
"It's used by some of the smokers."
"Smoking Indoors! But what about the smell?"
"Oh, they've got secret potions and charms and things, like I've got a secret potion in my botty." Dennis giggled.
"I don't think there'll be much," laughed Danny, "I was full seventeen hours ago, but I was probably running on empty with you."
"As long as there's some!" said Dennis, nudging his body against Danny's as they walked down a corridor.
They passed Professor Snape on the stairs but the only communication was a sour look from the professor.
They had to go to their dormitories to collect their books.
"What you got, Den?" asked Danny.
"Double Englishen-Latin," grimaced Dennis, "What about you?"
"Double Muggle Studies (excused), so I'll probably work outside for a bit."
What he didn't tell Dennis was that it was seventh-year games for Hufflepuff and Slytherin that afternoon.
They met Colin in the common room.
"Is it leaking, Den?" he said.
"Not enough to leak, I'm afraid," said Danny.
"Enough to make me a real man!" said Dennis.
They had a quick three-way hug and left for their Classes.
Danny's experience of the Muggle world was such that Professor McGonagall, after setting Danny a mock O.W.L. at the end of second-year, suggested that he found something else to do during Muggle Studies periods.
She did, however, resist Danny's suggestion that English and Latin should be treated similarly.
"Professor English tells me that you are still using the subjunctive in antecedent clauses."
"In Latin?"
"Of course in Latin; though I myself once heard you saying If I'd have known that, I'd never have gone."
"That was a joke, Miss; American Muggles do it!"
"Well, Daniel, with that sort of joke, if the wind changes, you'll be stuck doing it all your life."
"Yes, Miss."
So Danny had stoically endured Professor English's class but now, instead of staying with Colin and the rest for Muggle Studies, he merely dropped off his Muggle Gay books, to Professor Burbage's surprise, and went to the Library.
He revised Charms for a time, made a start on Professor Grubbly-Plank's essay and wandered down to the Quidditch practice field.
Games were not compulsory in the sixth and seventh years. There were, in fact, more spectators than active students. Most of the spectators were female and were concentrating on the serious Quidditch training which was going on high above them under the horsey eyes of Madam Hooch.
Danny's eyes too were on the Quidditch players—on Adrian Pucey in particular.
Danny was not an expert but he thought Adrian looked a good player but, unlike his capped comrades Warrington and Montague, he was neat, compact and unflashy.
Danny sat on the grass bank and studied his Charms book between plays. After a time, the book totally grabbed him and the Quidditch became a mere background noise until . . .
"Oh, Pucey! Pay attention!"
He looked up. Adrian was hovering and staring at Danny.
For a moment their eyes met. Even at fifty yards, Danny could envisage Adrian's voluptuous, go-to-bed eyes.
With a jerk, Adrian turned his attention to the game and kept it there for the rest of the period. Danny laughed: that was a good idea of Angelina's.
When Madam Hooch blew three blasts on her whistle, the players descended and mingled with the spectators.
If the world had turned differently, Danny would now be intercepting Cedric Diggory.
Danny had never really fancied Cedric, who was a bit effeminate for his taste—the Muggle word Pansy came to mind—but, after the Christmas ball, at which Cedric had danced all night with his male partner, Danny had viewed him as the great gay hero of Hogwarts.
He had anticipated recruiting Cedric as leader and spreader of the gay gospel, but it was not to be: Cedric was dead; Voldemort was alive and Danny was going to intercept Adrian Pucey, whose father was doing goodness knows what sort of evil on Voldemort's behalf.
He set off for the school, slowly walking and reading his Charms textbook. Nothing unusual in that: Hogwarts was well-used to seeing Danny at his studies at all sorts of times and places.
Occasionally he glanced behind him and adjusted his course and speed according to Adrian's progress.
At one stage Adrian was concealed within a knot of Slytherins but when Danny looked again he was walking by himself. He was only twenty yards away—near enough for Danny to be dazzled by the bright colours on Adrian's broomstick.
When Danny glanced again, Adrian was fifteen yards away and had slightly veered towards Danny. So the interceptor had become the bait!
At the critical moment, Danny turned and smiled.
"Er—" said Adrian.
Danny laughed and thought that Ron Weasley must have loaned Adrian his script-writer.
"Hello!" he said, "It's Adrian, isn't it?—I mean Pucey."
"Yeah," said Adrian, then, after a pause: "Gryffindor spy?"
"I'm not much interested in Quidditch," said Danny, then after a pause that exactly matched Adrian's: "I think you're good."
"I'm a bit out of practice; I had to work through the holidays, but I loosened up OK today so I hope to stay on as a team Chaser."
"I told you: I'm not much interested in Quidditch."
There was a pause.
The implication must have sunk in, but Danny thought that he'd done enough for one day.
In any case, Madam Hooch came bustling by.
"Good work, Pucey! And Jorrocks: I'm pleased you're taking an interest at last. It's a shame that blasted Wronsky Feint gave us another two fractures."
She bustled onwards and the two boys looked at each other.
"I gotta run," said Danny, "I'll be late. See yer, Pucey!"
He ran towards the school well-satisfied. If Adrian had any courage he should be receptive to Danny's next move.
He needed a pee and had a stall next to a Hufflepuff sixth-year called Zacharias Smith—a tall, thin, good-looking boy who turned out to have a tall, thin, good-looking willy.
"Not bad!" said Danny, leaving the boy speechless.
The next lesson was History of Magic and he slid into his seat next to Colin just as Professor Binns was starting to drone.
"Still five, Dan?" asked Colin.
"Shh!" said Danny.
HoM was a fascinating subject and, if you were prepared to concentrate, Professor Binns' drone was enjoyable.
Colin could not concentrate and Danny twice had to brush away Colin's hand when he initiated conversations in Morse Code—a system which it looked as though Sea Jay and Jonny were using throughout the lesson.
At dinner that night, the chief topic of conversation and dispute was the fact that Professor Umbridge had given Harry Potter a week's worth of detentions for persisting in his claims about the death of Cedric and the return of Voldemort.
However, whatever happens on the larger stage, human interest always homes in on Sex and word soon spread that Danny had a sore knob. Everyone liked Danny, but he was subject to much ribaldry.
"This comes from poking about in things that do concern you," said Sea Jay.
"All good ends come to a thing," said Jonny.
"There's just too many tight-arsed people about, Dan," said Colin.
"What's it all about?" asked Ginny's friend Bethany.
"Boys' stuff; don't ask," said Ginny.
"It's Danny's time of the month," Lavender Brown called over.
"I didn't know—" began Bethany.
"They don't, Beth," said Ginny, "She's pulling your leg."
"Danny won't be pulling anything tonight," spluttered Jonny.
"Except the cap off the Dittany," said Sea Jay.
"I'll do it for you, Danny," said Dennis.
"Toss you for it," said his brother, and a roar of laughter, with Lavender's being particularly raucous, ended the debate and they turned their attention to the food.
After dinner, Danny followed Dean Thomas, who was walking with Seamus through the great oak doors.
He called Dean over.
"Can I have a word Deano?"
"Yeah, man!"
"It's about last night."
"Shh!" Dean looked alarmed and glanced at Seamus who was waiting a few feet away.
"It's OK; it's about your charm to get you into my dorm. You said the twins told you but they deny all knowledge."
Dean looked bemused: "I don't know why they wouldn't tell you Danny, but me and Seamus are going for"—dropping his voice to a whisper—"a cig and we'll gen you up."
He called to Seamus: "Danny's coming; he wants to know about Juvies—Oh! That's it, of course! Fred and George are seventeen."
Danny was confused for a moment and then twigged: "Oh! Sea Jay told me about spells that obliviate from your mind when you're seventeen—he uses them to smoke too."
"That's it; they're called Juvenilia and they're hundreds of years old; passed down from student to student—provided they're under seventeen, of course."
"And don't any adults know about them? Not even Professor Dumbledore?"
"Nobody really knows but as long as they don't stop them, who cares?"
"And are they detectable by a Confundus or a Priori Incantatem?"
Seamus joined in: "Nobody knows that, either. There's only one thing we know: that they won't work if you're trying to harm someone."
"Benign Charms," said Danny, "Professor Flitwick talked about them last year."
"There's something else:" said Dean, "Even when you're both under seventeen, you can't just tell them to people: they have to ask."
"But doesn't that mean some of them go extinct?" asked Danny.
"Ah, that's the clever thing," said Seamus, "None of them will work for you until you know them all; and, since they're unwriteable, that's quite a memory test."
"So if someone asked us for a spell to get into Filch's office they'd also have to learn about undetectable smoking, which we need, and sneaking into other dorms, which you need," said Dean.
"What a brilliant system!" said Danny, as they reached a secluded spot behind the broom sheds.
Seamus and Dean invoked various concealment charms and lit their cigarettes. Then they recited the Juvenilia Charms that Danny would have to remember.
By the start of their second cigarette, Danny was word-perfect—he had a very good memory.
As the two fifth-years puffed away, Danny wondered about their relationship. They had each done some sexual favours for Danny and, even though the motivation had been Friendship, they had enjoyed themselves.
Danny thought of the many hours they must have spent in this secluded spot, with lips wrapped around phallic objects and erections coming and going. Had they ever . . .?
Danny remembered Seamus: I'm not gay! and Dean: You don't get no respect.
On the whole, he decided that they'd neither take the big step of asking: they would lose face and, anyway, they were both interested in girls.
Before they returned to the castle, Danny successfully did the Juvenile Charm Create Puritatem three times and it was in a mood of great glee that he entered the Gryffindor common room.
There were plenty of people clamouring for his attention but this was term time: whatever his sex-life and Scumbag-life, there was work to be done and he sat down with Stewart Appiah for mutual support in producing the essay for Professor Grubbly-Plank.
Stewart had grown up in Ghana and knew dozens of Magical Creatures which would never appear in O.W.L.s, but he had derived a lot of general principles which were interesting to Danny. In return, Danny filled in Stewart about European creatures—persuading him, for example, that the Caudabi, a limbless two-tailed monkey, was not native to Britain.
Danny made a mental note to try and spot Stewart's willy sometime. Black ones made a pleasant change and the last time he had seen it Stewart's was very black; it was, however, still a little boy's willy and Stewart was surely ripe by now.
They worked diligently until, at eight-thirty it was time to go to the Astronomy Tower.
It was a lot of fun identifying the constellations and looking at the stars and planets through a telescope.
Suddenly, the planet Mars went out of focus. What had Professor Sinistra said?
She had been talking about the wonderful show of Perseid meteors she had seen and alluded to the forthcoming Draconid shower on the fifth of October.
The fifth of October!
And it wasn't just the Draconids that happened then, but the Hogsmeade weekend. He had read the Hogwarts Calendar posted in the common room, but not taken in the date. On the fifth of October, Harry might be outside the protection of Hogwarts.
He thought back to Professor Trelawney's prophecy:
Think over, think over the fifth of October,
Piggy-wig, soldiers and booze.
The Dark Lord should hasten to harry and chasten
And finish the boy who he rues.
He supposed the Headmaster would have put together the same facts as he had, but, just in case he hadn't, he ran to the Owlery after the lesson ended, played with Tickles and sent:
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Just in case you hadn't notice, there is a clash of events:
Hogsmeade Weekend
Draconid Meteor Shower
Yours Jorrocks (D.) (Gryffindor)
He went to the common room and found his dorm-mates had already gone up.
Remembering the sight that had greeted him on the previous night, he wondered what was to come.
It turned out to be a bit milder: well-behaved boys getting into pyjamas, smiling at Danny and greeting him.
"Up for anything, Danny?" asked Baz Elliott.
"Too tired and sore and shagged out."
"Give us a look at the famous organ."
The four boys gathered round as Danny took off his robe and underpants. His willy was slightly red and shrivelled. It showed no sign of life, even when Baz retracted the foreskin.
"It's not—er . . ." said Nick White.
"It's OK for me!" said Baz.
He had acquired an instant erection and started to rub himself.
"Yeah, gimme some healing ointment!" laughed Danny.
As four pairs of eyes watched avidly, Baz wanked himself to a climax and splashed over Danny's pleasure-garden.
Giggling, Stephen Buckell gently spread the sticky fluid over Danny's cock and balls.
Through all this, Danny felt the joy of Friendship but not a hint of sexual urge.
The other lads were more excited and, as Danny went to ablute, were feeling each other's stiffies and giggling with pleasure.
Danny kissed and cuddled them all, assured them that he loved them and got into bed.
He drew the curtains and was soon asleep, though not before setting his internal wizard alarm.
— CHAPTER THREE —Night And DayAt one o'clock Danny woke up.
Stealthily he crept out of the dorm.
No-one stirred; no alarm sounded.
So far so good.
Wand at the ready, he paused at the threshold of the fourth-year dorm.
He performed the Juvenile Charm and, heart a-flutter, opened the door and walked inside.
All went well and he crept over to Colin's bed and leant through the curtains.
He pulled down the duvet and slipped in, pulling the duvet over himself and the sprawled Colin.
He kissed his friend and snuggled up with one hand on Colin's chest and the other on his back.
In this heavenly position he started his second sleep and did not wake until the sky was lightening.
Someone was licking Danny's lips . . . someone who smelt sharp and sweet from sleep . . . someone who gave him a feeling of great happiness.
"Morning, Col," he said, cuddling his friend.
"Have you been here all night?" said Colin, cuddling back.
"Since one o'clock."
"You should've woken me up so I could've enjoyed sleeping with you."
"You probably enjoyed me in your sleep anyway."
"We didn't, did we?"
"No, but we are now I hope."
"Oh yeah, Dan!" said Colin, undoing Danny's pyjama cord, "I've been saving myself."
Thirty seconds later, Danny was face down and Colin was bouncing on top of him as only a Creevey can bounce, and squealing with pleasure as only a Creevey can squeal. The ancient four-poster was adding its own sound-effects.
Danny was excited too and probably dribbled a little through his still-sore willy.
Colin lay panting. Then his pants turned to snores.
"Don't go to sleep, Col," said Danny, arching his back, "It's time to get up."
They got up stiffly and Danny put his pyjamas and dressing-gown on.
The other four lads were stirring as well. Perhaps this was their normal time, or perhaps they had been awoken by the creaking, rustling, panting and squealing.
They swapped Good Mornings but nobody expressed surprise at Danny's presence—assuming, no doubt, that Colin had let him in.
Sea Jay winked and pointed at himself and Jonathan Neil.
Danny smiled and nodded, knowing that Sea Jay meant Come up and see us too sometime!
Ray Kelly had put on his specs to greet Danny. Now he took them off again—and his pyjamas—and went for a shower.
Danny had a glimpse of a willy as bland as Ray's face, despite being slightly puffed-up with Ray's morning sex-urge. Danny suspected that Ray had wet dreams about Trinity Freeman every night. Ray's willy had its own special magic: the lure of the unattainable.
He considered waiting a bit to see if Stewart would give him a show, but there was some preparation for the day's lessons to be done so he left for his own dorm, noticing with amusement and pleasure that Colin's see yer was accompanied by signs of a stiffening willy.
At breakfast, the buzz about Harry continued.
Danny ignored this and looked across to the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy and Adrian Pucey were looking at him. Danny pretended not to have noticed Malfoy but smiled sweetly at Adrian.
During breakfast, he caught the attention of Dean and Seamus and gave them a thumbs-up.
Seamus came up to him as everyone was leaving. "Worked OK, then."
"Worked a treat, thanks Seamus."
"Well here's another one—from the Emerald Isle—it conceals you and quietens you and stops smells—great for us smokers. Me da's da taught it me this summer. It goes Illaun! All yer do is wave your wand around the area you want protecting and say the charm. It helps if you think how it's spelt too: O.I.L.E.A.N. The 'A' has what we call the Long Mark."
Seamus explained oileán.
"Why didn't you use it for smoking last night?"
"What it does is covered by the JC's as you saw, and you mustn't use it too much 'cos it taps into Leprachaun Magic."
"How do you remove it?"
"It stops as soon as you don't need it; it's the same principle as Leprachaun Gold."
"Thanks for Illaun, Seamus; and thanks for the JC's—and the lessons too—you know—I'm getting good at it."
"You're welcome, Danny and—" Seamus broke off.
Danny suspected that Seamus had been about to offer additional kissing lessons, but had seen that Dean was hovering.
They parted with Seamus singing:
O Danny boy, the Grubbly-Plank is calling . . .
Danny laughed. It was Professor Darrington who was calling him.
Apart from Numerology and Arithmancy, wizards and witches are not very good at Mathematics. The problem is that they are trained from an early age to enhance their intuitive and psychic faculties—excellent for spells but not good for Maths.
Danny muddled along, but, like most of the Hogwarts students, never talked about the subject.
The unfortunate Professor Darrington was on a loser—especially as Mathematics was not examined in the O.W.L.s.
Danny and his class staggered irritably out of the double Maths with their brains fried and a sense of the pointlessness of it all. Of course the angle that two points on the circumference subtended at the centre was twice that subtended at a third point on the circumference. Everyone knew that, but to prove it; and, what's more, to introduce an ill-bred and vaguely terminating line through the third point and the centre was just plain daft.
"How's your thing?" asked Colin, as they shared a chocolate dragon on the front lawn.
"Nearly better, mate."
"It didn't have much to say for itself this morning," laughed Colin.
"Perhaps it's waiting for Harry."
"He looked really down this morning."
"Well, he's got some good friends, Col."
"I just wish it was me."
"You are a friend . . . just not that sort of friend; and maybe that's good: he doesn't need distractions at present. And, changing the subject, after those stupid, bloody angles, I need distraction: a heavy-duty top-up of this morning's Creevey-donation. I'll just have a chat to Sea Jay."
Colin laughed: "Can Mr Jorrocks get a good discount for a huge bulk-order of Dittany?"
"Let's hope so; see yer in Transfig."
He walked towards Sea Jay, who was standing with Jonny undergoing an explanation of Euclid from Ginny.
On the way, however, he saw the black-haired Adam Watts chatting with his Ravenclaw friends. He caught his eye and jerked his head towards the school.
Adam immediately made an excuse and walked as indicated. Their paths converged just before the door into the Clock Courtyard.
Danny smiled into Adam's eyes. They were as black as his hair.
"Adam," he said, "two years having lessons together, and now it's time to be friends. There's no rush, but I just happen to have come from a nightmare Maths lesson and I need a good seeing-to as a favour. Are you willing and able?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you don't know, I'll show you."
"I do know really."
"It's just nerves; come on."
He led Adam to the nearest Boys' and shut the two of them in a cubicle.
"Illaun!" He could feel that it had worked.
"What's that?"
"Keeps the noise down."
"Lubricio!" Success again.
"What's that?"
"Makes it smooth for you."
He pulled down his underpants and showed his marginally ripened and marginally excited kit to Adam.
Adam needed no encouragement and followed Danny's example, revealing a definitely post-pubescent willy which was standing strongly erect. Adam's willy, like Colin's, probably had plenty of growing to do, but today it was fine for Danny.
He turned and adopted the familiar bend-and-brace posture.
"What do I do?" whispered Adam, rather needlessly.
"Just follow your instinct. And there's no need to whisper."
Adam followed his instinct and pressed the tip of his willy against Danny's bumhole. Once he felt the hole yielding he quickly pushed it all the way in and started rocking, giving Danny a sharp pain which immediately turned to a small pain accompanied by a lot of pleasure.
"How fast do I go?"
"Whatever, you want, Adam; and there's no need to whisper."
Adam settled on a rate of slightly more than one-a-second.
Each stroke seemed to relax Danny a bit more.
"This is so good, Adam!" he commented, getting in return a grunt and a tightened grip on his shoulders.
Adam kept going for another three minutes, panting harder and harder, then his stroke quickened and he moaned "Oh Danny! . . . Oh Danny"
Danny had achieved a long, low-key orgasm and perhaps it was the sight of a little dewdrop at the end of his willy that inspired his phrasing: "Go on, Adam, let it all out!"
And Adam did let it all out—at each end: banging hard at two-plus-a-second, he released a cry of DANEEEEEEEE! which would have reached the Great Hall were it not for the Illaun.
As Adam subsided, Danny thought of repeating Stephen's Did you come?, but, looking round, stifled the joke. Adam was bright red, breathless and sweating. He hadn't the ears to hear, the brain to see the funny side or the lungs to laugh.
As Danny held his undignified pose, with Adam struggling for breath behind him, he felt anew his hatred for Voldemort and all he stood for. The sex act—sex acts he mentally corrected himself—might be ridiculous considered in isolation, but they stood as physical manifestations of a whole range of positive, decent things, from eternal two-as-one love to simply getting along together.
Scumbaggery stood for the exact opposite range: from hatred to war.
He was interrupted by Adam's voice in his ear: "Was that OK?"
"It was bloody brilliant, but that doesn't matter because Sex isn't just about emptying your bollocks: you get tremendous pleasure when your partners empty theirs and feeling you inside me's made this break something special."
"Break!" said Adam, pulling out, "I'll be late for McGonagall; who will you be late for?"
"The same: we must be in together this year."
"For Englishen-Latin, Charms and Transfig! God, I can't run; I'm knackered. I had a wank this morning or I'd probably have come inside two seconds."
"Never mind; we'll just brazen it out. And if she tells us off, I'll just think I got a shag off Adam Watts this morning!"
"And I'll think I got two shags off Danny Jorrocks this morning! 'Cos I imagined I was shagging you when I had my wank."
They had sorted themselves out and managed some sort of jog to the Transfiguration classroom.
"Watts and Jorrocks!" said Professor McGonagall, "Not the best start to a term!"
"Sorry Miss," said Danny, "we were immersed in discussion."
The class chuckled a little. It was clear to most of them what Danny and Adam had been immersed in. The amusement was muted—perhaps because some of the students had had an epiphany like Danny's: the recruitment of quiet, ordinary Adam Watts as one of Danny's naughty boys had led to a realisation of the passage of time and the unpredictability of events.
Professor McGonagall, to whom such realisations were, no doubt, old hat, sniffed and said: "Don't let it happen again; now sit down and become immersed in Transfiguration."
They obeyed with alacrity, Adam's face redder than ever, but with a glint of pride and wonder in his eyes.
Danny was excellent at Transfiguration and succeeded in transforming a big cushion into a pin-cushion first time. Colin was only just behind him and the two lads were able to have a quiet conversation.
"What did you do with Watts?" asked Colin.
"He did me;" said Danny "long and hard; it was just what I needed."
"Funny, you don't notice people growing up. He's always been cute, but my brain's shifted and he suddenly seems sexy to me. When I've got Harry under my belt—so to speak—I'll ask him to do me."
"You won't be sorry, mate."
"Now tell me how you got into our dorm last night. Did someone let you in?"
"It's a long story and it'll take some time to tell you—and teach you; then you'll be able to visit me."
"I might get lynched. That Barry Elliott's big, isn't he."
"He's a soft 'aporth like everyone else in the dorm. They all understand about Love."
"Not as much as a certain three brothers."
"True, darling Col."
They looked fondly into each other's eyes and Professor McGonagall snapped: "Creevey and Jorrocks! You may have finished today's work, but there's always more. Read the next chapter in your textbook; and I'm warning everyone that we shall shortly be transfiguring hedgehogs into pin-cushions and the more prep you can get in for that the better."
But she was in a better mood by the end of the lesson: everyone—even Luna Lovegood—had mastered the day's transfiguration. She said to the class: "Any questions?"
Danny put his hand up: "A general question, Miss; when there are several spells doing the same thing, how do you know which one to select?"
Danny was thinking of the overlap between Juvenile Charms, Illaun, Disillusionment and a spell that Harry had mentioned: Mud Tomato. Say nothing of the Invisibility Cloak, which Danny had obediently left at home.
"Have you a specific example, Jorrocks?" asked the professor.
"No, it was just general," lied Danny.
"Then I suggest you attend the next-but-one meeting of the Advanced Magic Club when Professor Flitwick will be lecturing on that very topic."
And, with that, Danny had to be satisfied.
On the way out of the classroom, Danny murmured to Adam: "I'm very sorry, Adam, I was so excited that I forgot number one rule."
"What's that?"
They stopped, out of earshot of everyone else, but within sight and being stared at avidly.
"Every session must begin with a long, loving snog. I'll make it up to you."
"Not here!" hissed Adam, taking a step backwards.
"No; we have to consider the sensibilities of the Others—but things are changing: the Yule Ball was a big step forward."
Adam snorted: "Only another two hundred and two years to the next one."
"Things will change. Watch this space."
Adam snorted again, then his face changed. He smiled and said: "Thanks, anyway, Danny. Shall we do it again?"
"Of course, Adam; but open your eyes; there's lots of others . . ."
"Yeah; see yer."
"See yer."
The chronicler discreetly omits details of the Gryffindor games lesson. Danny was still in the Beginners' Flying section and his age and stature debarred him from making much impression in other areas.
Being a teenage boy, however, he managed to work up a large appetite for lunch.
He bolted his food and headed out of the hall, catching Adrian Pucey's eye meaningfully on the way, then looking down meaningfully at the book he was carrying.
Ten minutes later the intelligent Adrian entered the Library and just happened to sit down at the same table as Danny.
They were out of earshot of the other users and shared a large, dusty volume which gave them an excuse to talk.
"When we're alone, can I call you Adrian? And will you call me Danny?"
"Yes, Danny."
"Am I correct in thinking that Slytherin has a zero tolerance for sex between boys?"
"Yes if it's boys in other houses," said Adrian, "though intramural sex is allowed if it's just mechanistic."
"No lovey-dovey?"
"Definitely no lovey-dovey. Rape of boys in other houses is an oral tradition, though I don't know of any recent cases."
"That figures. The nearest I've come to having sex with a Slytherin was when one of them wanted to bum me. I sent him packing."
"He probably would have enjoyed boasting afterwards—you know: I really gave that Gryffindor squirt a shafting sort of thing."
"I have to tell you, Adrian, that I never have sex without lovey-dovey—or at least warm, brotherly friendship; so you can get up and walk away now if you want to."
"I'd rather have the friendship without the sex."
"I thought you were like that. You're not a typical Slytherin, are you?"
"No, but I want our Quidditch team to win."
"No point in playing if you don't."
"And Slytherins aren't bad people; it's just the culture—the way the house is."
"Is the Slytherin culture why you ignored me for two years?"
"Yes, and the fact that you were too young."
"I'm still too young and Slytherin's unchanged, so why did you latch on to me yesterday?"
"I'm seventeen, for God's sake and I'm a virgin—I haven't even got any real friends. My life's miserable and I need something good in it.
"So we both want to be friends and to have loving sex but, in the short term at least we've got to keep it secret."
"Shall we go to the bogs now?" asked Adrian.
"No. That wouldn't be secret. People do notice what I do; and they turn a blind eye. But if a Slytherin and a Gryffindor did it, they might get away with it once or twice but, sooner of later, they'd be clocked and blind eyes would not be turned. Besides, I'd like to see a lot more of you than the occasional quickie."
"Where then? In the grounds? In an empty classroom?"
"I think we can do better than that. Do you have a big bed?"
"Yeah, but I sleep in a double room with Warrington and, even if I got you up there OK, he'd notice."
"Not at all. I can stop him noticing anything."
"They all say you're a brilliant wizard. And then they say it's just your father's money."
"Both statements true. Can you wake up at one o'clock in the morning?"
"Yeah, I'm good at personal alarms."
"Then come down and let me in to Slytherin at one. If I'm not there, I've been caught."
Danny wasn't letting on that he was a master of Disillusionment.
"You're on, Danny!"
Danny rose and gave Adrian's willy a discreet grope on the way. It was very hard.
"Keep that warm for me dreamy-eyes," he said.
Danny was walking on air. Despite his many adventures, he had never had sex with his ideal. The big, quiet, utterly masculine Adrian was that ideal.
As he walked into Professor Binns' classroom—an hour and a half of History of Magic was in prospect—Derek Rath, a big fair-haired Hufflepuff brushed past and Danny felt a piece of parchment being thrust into his hand.
When the class was settled and Professor Binns was well-started on his discourse, he picked a moment when Colin was actually taking notes and read:
OK, so you can give it to little second-years. How about trying it with a big fourth year?
It was not secret so he showed it to Colin, whispering: "Don't look at him. Derek Rath."
"Is your willy up to it?" asked Colin.
"Yeah; it's been wanting some since Games finished."
Colin's hand crept over.
"It is keen isn't it?"
About an hour into the lesson, Derek raised his hand: "Please, Sir, may I be excused for a couple of minutes."
"Of course," said the professor, "So the International Warlock Convention of 1289 had the surprising result that—"
Danny raised his hand: "Please, Sir, may I be excused too?"
"Of course," said the professor, "—the Welsh-speaking wizards of the Solway Firth migrated back to Wales and interbred with . . ."
There was subdued and admiring laughter. Every boy in the room, and most of the girls, knew what was afoot.
They walked towards the nearest boys' lavatory.
"Have you done this before, Derek?" asked Danny.
"You're joking! Hufflepuff boys are champion arse-bandits—they have to be because they're highly-sexed and Hufflepuff girls are protected by no end of spells. If you stroke a leg or grab a handful of tit, a bloody great alarm goes off. You can't even snog for more than one point five seconds."
"Sounds like heaven!"
"It is. At least half the boys are at it, so when you grabbed our little Ian's virginity that was quite a coup for Gryffindor."
"It wasn't for Gryffindor, you twit; it was for me. Sex has got nothing to do with houses."
"Maybe. There's four of us blame Jimmy Millar: he could have had Ian any time over the last year but the two of them were fixated on you. So we decided to see what you're really like."
"And why you?"
"I'm the biggest; at least that's what I told them. I was quite eager to be the one."
They reached the bogs and, in no time, were locked in a cubicle with underpants off and spells enacted—Derek knew Lubricio! and the JC repertoire.
Danny had a fondle of Derek's tackle which, given that he had quite a bit of hair on his upper lip and under his chin, as well as a good pubic bush, was surprisingly small.
Derek appraised Danny: "Only just turned I see. I won't be flooded out will I? The fuzz feels heavenly. It's like velvet. Come on then—give it to me super stud and wank me off too."
"Let me just moisten you then," said Danny and took Derek's willy in his mouth.
After a second, Derek turned and crouched over the pedestal.
Danny put his nose down first. A delicious bumhole-smell with just a hint of vinegar. A lot of hair. He licked the hole and Derek quivered.
"You dirty bugger!" he said, "Only tarts do that."
Danny ignored the comment and went even dirtier, sticking his tongue in hard.
He reached around and started to rub Derek's willy. Derek's thrust nearly knocked him over so he raised himself and drove his willy hard into the hole.
He started thrusting at a steady pace and wanking at double the thrust-rate.
It felt great to be having sex with this experienced boy. There was no soreness in his willy despite Derek's bumhole feeling tight even on Danny's petite equipment.
Derek thought it was great too. He came quickly and Danny saw two blobs spatter against the back wall. The sight accelerated his own come and, with one hand pinching Derek's pectorals and the other gently clasping Derek's pleasure-kit, he released his, presumably still tiny, load into Derek.
It had been a real treat. When they separated Danny said: "Thanks Derek. That was unexpected and really kind of you."
"Thank you, Danny. You were brilliant, though you're still a bit of a midget."
"If kissing bumholes is dirty, what about this?"
And Danny licked up the cum that was gathered between his thumb and forefinger.
"You are filthy! Even tarts don't do that!"
"What's all this about tarts?"
"In Hufflepuff we have an official House Tart. He's allowed to kiss bumholes—in fact he has to to get the job."
"And no-one else does that?"
"No."
"And do you do sucking?"
"Some of us. But we always spit it out and rinse with mouthwash."
"Basically you're all like I was three weeks ago, but I've learnt a lot since then. It strikes me that Hufflepuff could do with a bit of learning."
"We've got centuries of tradition."
"You're missing out. Anyway who is your official House Tart?"
"We were hoping it would be Ian. We all fancied him. But he's not keen, so it looks like we're stuck. Cedric did it for three years and there's no successor in sight."
"Cedric was House Tart? Cedric? Wholesome Quidditch and Triwizard Cedric?"
"Yeah, he was really good."
"Cedric! And what does a House Tart have to do?"
"Not much; just have his bumhole available to anybody."
"Sounds a dream job to me!"
"It is a dream job. He gets everything bought for him—food and drink, top class clothes—wizard and Muggle—all the games and tricks he wants, the best broomstick, schoolbooks, comics, in fact anything he wants."
"So why isn't there a successor?"
"Not everyone's that way inclined—you know kissing bumholes. And they have no control over their sex-lives—even when Ced was going out with that Ravenclaw chink, he was getting bummed four or five times a night and having to bum people himself one or two times."
"How many people were involved, then?"
"About twenty-five—even the very straight boys—they always had full balls because they couldn't even rub themselves off against their girlfriends without the alarm sounding."
"What do straight boys do now there's no Tart?"
"Just wanking; none of us gays'll have anything to do with them."
"Well, Derek, you tell your mates that Danny is available and keen for friendship with any of them, but tell them that, if they want sex, they must prove that they really want it by licking out my bumhole and swallowing my cum."
"I'll tell them that, Danny—I shouldn't expect too much, though."
"And tell everyone that Danny likes randy straight boys too, but they'll have to pass the same test."
"They wouldn't do that, Danny," laughed Derek, "not even for a Hufflepuff boy!"
"What about snogging?"
"The girly boys do it, but they keep it secret."
"How do you know, then?"
"People talk."
"People don't know what happens when two boys are alone—which reminds me: tell your friends that Danny always starts with a snog. I forgot today 'cos we're a bit rushed, but next time I'll expect your tongue to touch my tonsils."
They had reached Professor Binns' classroom.
When they entered, all the Hufflepuffs applauded politely, which creased the Gryffindors up—even the superstraights Ray and Stewart.
Professor Binns scarcely noticed the disturbance but just droned on and on and on . . .
At the end of the lesson Danny quietly asked Derek Rath: "Is any of what you told me confidential?"
"No, of course not. In Hufflepuff we're very proud of our traditions."
The first Potions lesson of term had no pleasant diversions for Danny. Snape was at his most obnoxious, favouring the Slytherins whenever he could and saving his toughest questions and harshest comments for the Gryffindors—but never Danny or Ray who were star potioneers.
He was glad when the lesson was over and, after a quiet dinner during which he told his friends about the strange world of Hufflepuff sex, he retreated to the library to catch up with homework and delve further into From Ocular to Corporeal.
Colin and Dennis joined him for a bit but, first Dennis and then Colin got bored and went for fun and games in the common room.
At nine o'clock, Danny found an empty classroom and ran through some non-verbal spells, starting with the simple ones, then the new Juvenilia Charms, finally the Disillusionment Charm, which he expected to be his most valuable weapon through the school year—both in his struggles against Voldemort and his campaign for more gay sex.
By ten o'clock, tired out after a long busy day he went up to the dorm.
Telling the lads he was knackered, he went straight to bed.
There was a note in small sloping handwriting on his pillow:
Received with thanks.
Dumbledore was on the case!
His head touched the pillow and he was fast asleep.
— CHAPTER FOUR —Adrian PuceyDanny had set his alarm for a quarter to one. The night was chilly so he put on his dressing-gown and slippers. He Disillusioned himself and tiptoed towards the door, then remembered that noise didn't matter.
To make certain, he shouted: "If you can hear this Danny's failed!"
No-one stirred and Danny walked out normally, ran up the stairs and, after the appropriate spells, entered the fifth year dormitory.
Since he was going out on the prowl anyway, he hadn't been able to resist a breach of this holy of holies.
The first thing that struck him was the smell.
His own dorm was bland; Colin's dorm smelt definitely of boys; but there was a big difference between a room full of fourteen-year-old boys and one full of fifteen-year-olds.
He inhaled deeply. It was a scrumptiously pungent mix of flavours from all parts of the boys' bodies, from clothes and footwear that weren't changed too often, from bedding that had soaked up adolescent night-sweat.
In one word, it was the smell of Sex and Danny's willy recognised it and paid attention.
He had reasoned that Disillusionment would apply to any light generated by the caster of the spell, so he drew his wand and used Lumos!
One by one he pushed his head and wand through the curtains that surrounded the small four-posters and there they were: five gorgeous boys, each perfect in his own way: Dean, cool and in control, even in his sleep . . . Seamus, freckled and smiling . . . Neville, anxious-looking and giving Danny a mothering urge . . . Ron, even more gormless than usual . . . and then the big one . . .
Harry Potter without his glasses looked vulnerable and careworn. This was the boy who had seen Cedric die and who had duelled with Voldemort. No wonder he seemed on the verge of frowning. Danny's heart went out to him.
Danny twitched the duvet downwards.
Now he had come this far, he had to see. . .
He twitched the duvet down further . . . then, gently, a bit more . . . then more until it had passed Harry's crotch.
Harry was on his side and Danny just about had access to the piss-flap in Harry's pyjamas.
He eased the flap open and then got a shock: Harry hadn't changed. His pubic area was as bald as a twelve-year-old's. His willy was limp. Here was a fifteen-year-old with a twelve-year-old's willy, though a bit fatter than the typical twelve-year-old's.
For a moment he considered a grope, then dismissed the thought, not on ethical grounds but because he didn't want to disturb Harry's sleep: he had read that physical contact with a Disillusioned person registered at a subliminal level which was sometimes shallow enough to awaken sleepers.
He slowly restored the duvet and gave Harry an ever-so-gentle kiss on the top of his head.
Harry had not showered for a day or so judging by the emanations from his sebaceous glands. It was an exquisite smell.
Leaking pre-cum, Danny withdrew, then, half way to the door, changed his mind. He returned and pressed his lips against Harry's scar.
Harry smiled in his sleep and shifted his body slightly.
"Sweet dreams, Harry," said Danny, hoping that his inaudible message got through psychically.
Danny moved swiftly out of Gryffindor (Who's there? said the Fat Lady) and down to the basement.
On previous nocturnal adventures, he had had to dodge Mr Filch and Mrs Norris so he was annoyed that, now it didn't matter, there was no sign of them.
He removed the Disillusionment and turned into Slytherin corridor.
There was a tall figure waiting for him.
He ran to Adrian and hugged him.
"Alright, Adrian?"
"Yeah; Hi, Danny!" Adrian hugged him back.
Danny took his wand and muttered the JC Normalis Sum! that would allow him to enter secretly. He wasn't going to let anyone know that he could do non-verbals.
The Slytherin common room was spooky with just the night lights on. From what he could see it would look spooky even when fully lit—spooky in a sort of kitschy way.
They went down a long door-lined corridor. They were hand in hand and, despite Adrian's probable nervousness, Adrian's hand was warm and dry. Danny thought irrelevantly that probably his Quidditch required the ability to retain grip on his broomstick whatever the situation.
Adrian led him through one of the doors into a room that was spacious, despite containing two large four-posters.
There was a rich smell of Muggle designer toiletries and, surprisingly, tobacco. Was Adrian not aware of the JC charms to help smokers?
There was also a slight underlay of Fart. Danny hoped that this came from Warrington and not Adrian.
Warrington . . . that was the name that Tom from Birmingham had adopted inspired by one Gary Warrington, his friend in infancy. The Slytherin Warrington was the same age as Tom, so he might indeed be Tom's friend.
What was definite was that this Warrington was snoring so loudly that an Illaun! was probably redundant. Danny muttered it nevertheless and then shouted "Give us a kiss, Adrian!"
"Shh!" Adrian was alarmed.
"It's alright, mate. We can't be seen, heard or smelt. Now give us a kiss!"
They sat on Adrian's bed and pressed their lips together.
Adrian's arms enfolded Danny who inserted his tongue and pressed it against Adrian's.
Adrian tasted of toothpaste.
He pressed his tongue against Danny's and they wiggled for a bit.
Then Danny sucked Adrian's tongue into his mouth and carried on sucking until they broke for air.
"I'm not very good at it, I'm afraid," said Adrian.
"It's not a test, Adrian," said Danny, "They don't do N.E.W.T.s in kissing. And ninety nine point nine nine nine nine percent of the pleasure of kissing is simply through the act of kissing. Just like ninety nine point nine nine nine nine percent of the pleasure of sex is lying in each other's arms . . . talking of which, lets get naked."
They threw off their clothes and sat back down on the edge of the bed.
Adrian had a hairy chest and a hairy diamond down below.
Further down there was what was definitely a whopper, even though it was only slowly coming to life.
They looked at each other's bodies for a while, then Adrian took the initiative, feeling Danny's little willy and cradling his ballsack.
"That's cute, Danny," he said.
"Cute yourself," said Danny weighing Adrian's much larger sack, and feeling the plum-sized balls shifting around beneath his fingers.
"And this is a beauty," he continued as he gripped the shaft of Adrian's willy—now something more than a semi. It was thicker than he'd expected because its length gave one the illusion of skinniness.
He retracted a great mass of foreskin and exposed a dark purple glans that was awash with pre-cum.
"Lie down, darling Adrian," he said, pushing the boy backwards.
Adrian lay on his back with his head on the pillow. His legs were slightly apart and Danny could see the tight, crinkled ballsack underneath the big brown shaft.
He lay on top of Adrian and started to kiss him again.
He could feel Adrian's penis between his thighs and, obeying some unknown instinct, crossed his legs at the ankles so he could press his thighs together.
In response to the pressure, Adrian twitched and moaned. He kissed Danny harder and started a shagging motion, stroking Danny's head with one hand and his buttocks with the other.
Very soon his moans increased, his shagging became stronger, his hands gripped Danny tightly and he started to come with a shout of: Oh! Oh! Oh! Danny!
Danny was coming himself. In an exaltation of pleasure he bounced on the big, ravishing boy and shot his little load somewhere around Adrian's belly-button simultaneously with a heavy splash of liquid falling on the top of his back..
Adrian thrust and thrust, but finally subsided with a final shove and a muttered Danny! Danny! Danny!
Danny kissed Adrian for a few moments, then said: "Whatyer think, first-time boy? Gonna turn straight?"
"Ha-bloody-ha!" said Adrian, "It's like a dream come true—It is a dream come true."
"It is for me too. I wish you weren't in Slytherin. We could have had two years of friendship and fun before this."
"That's in the past, Danny; let's think about the future: can we be really close friends, even if you don't want the sex thing?"
"We are really close friends and I'm a hot boy; I need sex and I need sex with my really close friends."
Danny could feel Adrian's cum slithering (ha-ha) down his back.
"O Danny, I felt really down all summer and then yesterday . . . you smiled at me."
"Why should you feel down? Is it to do with being in Slytherin?"
"Sort of. The world's such a mess and I'm in the thick of it."
"Crikey, you are definitely not a Slytherin. Why did the Sorting Hat put you there?"
"I think I'm really a bit of each of the other houses. And, without a clear indication, the Sorting Hat put me here—It's got to equalise the numbers and I am ambitious and cunning. Beside Mum and Dad were in Slytherin."
"Where are you from?"
"Gloucestershire. Dad's a farmer."
"You didn't need to come back—I'm glad you did, mind—you could have joined your Dad."
"Not on. Do you mind if I smoke?"
"Of course not."
Danny rolled over.
"Oh look: there's your cum."
Adrian ran a finger over a tiny wet patch on his stomach.
"Not as much as yours, unfortunately," laughed Danny.
Adrian took a towel and wiped off Danny's back and bottom. He paused at the latter.
"Your bum's beautiful, Danny."
"It wants your willy up its hole."
"Oh no; you're too little for my willy."
"Let's try later anyway. Your willy would be my biggest yet but I think I can take it. Roll your fag now."
"How did you know I rolled my own?"
A slight mistake, thought Danny; then he said: "I smelt it when we came in."
Adrian rolled his cigarette using a magic spell, so revealing to Danny why he was so awful at the Muggle method.
Adrian lit up and Danny said: "You were telling me why you couldn't go into farming."
"Oh, Yeah. Well, Dad wants me to do my N.E.W.T.s and he thinks in these times that I'm best here in Slytherin."
"By these times do you mean You-know-who? Do you believe Harry Potter?"
"Yes."
"And does your dad believe Harry Potter?"
"Yes."
"So he wants you here for your protection?—no, that can't be it: the most dangerous place to be is on You-know-who's side. He treats his own people like shit."
"Yeah; absolutely."
"Well my guess is that your parents are death eaters and you don't like that at all—no, don't say anything."
Adrian had opened his mouth.
"My dad's got problems too, but it's all got nothing to do with you and me. Let's light up your last year with our friendship. And seal it by . . ."
He gave Adrian's stiffie a tweak.
Adrian looked down at his willy and said: "Oh God! Are you sure?"
Danny gave as his answer: "Accio! Savlon!"
When the ointment appeared, he gave it to Adrian: "Smother it with this stuff."
He did a Lubricio! and, belt and braces, gave his hole a dose of ointment.
He got under the duvet and lay in a fairly foetal position, instinctively knowing that this was the most relaxing way.
Adrian got in, found Danny's hole and positioned his penis against it.
"Not yet, Adrian," said Danny, "a little loosening-up first."
He guided Adrian through some fingerwork.
When two fingers felt easy, he told Adrian: "Go on, mate!"
"If it hurts, tell me to stop," said Adrian.
"Yeah, but when I do, hold your position and don't back off. We don't want to climb the same bit of mountain twice."
Adrian positioned his penis as before, but immediately splayed out one leg underneath Danny, so it was with Danny sitting sideways on Adrian's thigh that they started the great adventure.
Adrian's bell-end was reasonably pointy so it was well-established inside the hole before a twinge made Danny call Stop!
"That's half an inch; only another seven and a half inches to go." giggled Danny.
They paused and pushed . . . paused and pushed and paused . . .
Then Danny felt it was time to take a gamble.
"Now! Push hard!
At first he thought that he'd been rash: there was a horrible, burning pain in his backside.
It lessened, though, and ten seconds later it felt as though he were passing a large turd.
Then a glorious Phase Three kicked in: the ecstatic fusion of body and mind that makes sex so wonderful.
As Adrian pushed harder and started shagging him, he felt a physical warmth radiating from the centre of the action, seeming to meet with Adrian's arms, which were squeezing him tightly, and reflect back.
His mind formulated thoughts along the lines: Adrian's inside me. That gorgeous boy I saw wanking in the wood's inside me. I'm giving him pleasure. Part of his pleasure is that he knows I want to give him pleasure.
He put these thoughts into words as best he could: "Oh, Adrian! . . . Oh, Adrian! . . . Oh, Adrian! . . ."
His vocalisations were united with Adrian's on the run-up to his climax and it was with a duet of Oh, Danny!'s and Oh, Adrian!'s that things came at last to a shuddering halt.
They lay for some minutes with Adrian panting and still letting out the occasional Oh, Danny! then Danny rolled over onto his stomach.
There was a sharp pang and Danny mentally noted that withdrawal should be done slowly as well as entry.
"Would you pass my pyjama bottoms, please?" he said.
Adrian did so and Danny covered his bumhole with the garment, shifted himself to a squat and relaxed his sphincter.
Amidst the farts he could feel quite a volume of fluid. He wished now that he had arranged Adrian's first come to be internal. He wiped his bottom and looked at the mess.
Adrian created and lit another cigarette.
"Thank you, sweet friend," said Danny.
"Thank you, only friend," said Adrian.
"I enjoyed that," said Danny, "and I don't need to ask whether you did."
"Best shag I've had today," said Adrian, and the boys laughed knowing it was the only shag that Adrian had had in seventeen long years.
Danny took hold of Adrian's spare hand. "You look so happy," he said, "Forget all the crap and let's make this a happy year for the two of us. Work hard for your N.E.W.T.s and relax with your Danny."
"My Danny! It sounds unbelievable."
"Just believe in us! And by the end of your time here we may be able to walk hand-in-hand openly."
Danny explained his plan to normalise—or rather disabnormalise—love between males at Hogwarts.
"It started at the Yule Ball," said Adrian."
"Yes, how I wish I'd been there. I did ask Harry Potter and Ron Weasley to make me their partner, but they went for safety."
Adrian laughed: "I should steer well clear of Ron Weasley!"
"Why?"
"Word is that he's got an incredible monster of a willy and I don't think you'd take much more than mine."
"How do you know this?"
"I don't know who started the rumour, but it's all around Slytherin."
"Maybe it's true then: if Slytherins started a false rumour it would be just the opposite."
"That's what they say about Potter: that he's got the smallest one in Hogwarts."
"Yes, that sounds like a false rumour," said Danny, but he was a bit uneasy: did the Slytherins know that Harry hadn't changed?
"Anyway does size matter, Danny? You said, if my sums are right, that the physical act is only naught point naught naught naught one percent of the pleasure of sex. Well, penis size is only a percentage of that."
"Well said, Adrian; a friend of mine pointed that out the other day: if size is really important, why don't people just use giant rubber willies?"
"Kissing is more important then shagging, anyway," said Adrian, "If I'm dying and have a chance to relive one moment of my life, I'll pick the moment you kissed me."
"Let's kiss goodnight, Adrian and go to sleep; I'm whacked."
"Are you going to stay the night then?"
"Yes, if you'll have me."
"My lucky day! You'll have to get up early, though."
"I'll set my personal wizard alarm for six o'clock and then slink back home. Will that be OK?"
"Yeah, the house'll be asleep but you'll have to watch out for Filch and that bloody cat."
"That's second nature to me."
"How's your jacksie, by the way?"
"A dull throb which I hope lasts a couple of days and reminds me of you."
"When are we going to see each other again? Shall we set a time to meet in the library to agree?"
"Definitely not. We've got to play ultra-safe: if people discover you've got a Gryffindor friend, it'll get reported upwards—and I don't mean Snape and Dumbledore."
"I see what you mean."
"We've got away with one casual meeting on the Quidditch pitch and one casual meeting in the library. If there are more, someone'll notice and it'll be out. They may have already noticed that we've had eye-contact in the Great Hall. We've got to have zero contact except here."
"But I can't sit up every night on the off-chance."
"No, just give me your password and I can slink in when I'm free."
"Good idea, but non-Slytherins can't get in. If they try it triggers a school-wide alarm. Isn't Gryffindor the same?"
"Yes, but we've found a way round it which should work for all the houses."
"Good show, Danny. The password's Come the Day so if you slink in at the same time, come straight to this room, do your silencing magic on old Warrington and get into bed with me, Love has found a way!"
"Weekends are out I suppose, because people are up late?"
"Fridays and Saturdays, yes. Sometimes there are late dinners and meetings and pranks. If any of these are planned, I'll read a Quidditch magazine at meal time. You can clock it out the corner of your eye."
"You're a natural conspirator, Adrian."
"Perhaps a natural Slytherin after all. Let's go through it: you get to the door and the password's changed; then it's straight back home for you. I'll whisper new passwords as I barge into you. There's no alternative: they've got a spell that alarms if a password is written down."
"I know; Gryffindor cock-up."
"Then suppose the password works but your Anti-Foreigner spell doesn't and there's a bloody great alarm. But you've already got your wand out and an escape strategy planned."
"Check."
"Right you get into the house but there's people up and they clock you. What do you do?"
"Black screen."
"Good one—better than messy Confunding and Obliviating which I don't suppose you're very good at. And finally you get in here and find Warrington and me discussing Quidditch tactics. And I'll tell you what to do: just back up and shut the door behind you. Me and Warrington will grab our wands, of course, and come after you—except I'll Confund him."
"Brilliant! Now really I'm so tired . . ."
They kissed briefly then Danny went to sleep with his head on Adrian's breast and the taste of shower gel from a nipple in his mouth. Adrian must have showered within the last hour or so. Danny's last conscious thoughts were on the urgent need to give Adrian a lecture on the importance of smell and taste in enhancing sex.
At six o'clock, Danny awoke with a raging erection. He nudged Adrian awake and, after politely asking permission, gave him a red-hot bumming.
Before Danny left, Adrian whispered, despite the Illaun!: "Danny, you know what were talking about—you know: Slytherins and death eaters?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I want you to know that I'd never do anything bad."
"I believe you, Adrian."
They kissed goodbye and Danny slunk out, having refused Adrian's offer to check if all was clear.
He was Disillusioned and into Gryffindor (Is that you, Peeves? said the Fat Lady) in no time.
As he lay in his bed, he reviewed the situation.
On the Friendship side, he was satisfied: he knew that Adrian would be a friend for life—perhaps eventually loved as much as Colin, Dennis and Piers.
On the Scumbag front, his friendship with Adrian should enable him to discover how Adrian's attainment of the Disillusionment Charm would help Scumbag. Also, he had the Slytherin password, which would enable him to listen in to the Slytherin's conversations.
But there was an uneasy feeling that there was an incompatibility between the two fronts: he was deceiving his new friend.
He knew that he had to set this feeling aside: his deceit was solely for fighting Scumbag which was in Adrian's true interest. And, after all, he had had to deceive his other loved ones in the past: his parents, the Creeveys, Piers.
The next thing he knew was being shaken by Nick White who was shouting: "Wake up lazy-bones! It's eight o'clock. You've had ten hours!"
— CHAPTER FIVE —Spreading the WordBy Wednesday, the school was into its rhythm of work, rest and play.
Danny's first lesson was Divination. Having jumped over third-year, this was his introduction to Professor Trelawney—the seer who had produced the fifth of October prophecy.
He quickly decided that Colin's depiction of her as a fraud was accurate . . . yet there had been at least one instance where her words were meaningful.
The lesson started with crystal ball revision, at which the boys had some fun.
Sea Jay saw a train going into a tunnel whose entrance was surrounded by bushes. Professor Trelawney interpreted this as: A journey into unknown countryside.
Picking up the cue, Colin saw a boy eating a sausage smeared with horseradish sauce. This was: The joys of life are accompanied by pain.Or it might be more specific: A warning against tobacco.
Danny saw a hairy star descending towards Nelson' Column, which meant. A relative returning from Abroad.
Jonathan, rather crudely, saw two plums and a banana, which was obviously: A fruitful time ahead.
Ray decided to put an end to equivocation and gayness: "Oh, Miss; it's a naked man and a naked woman . . . and, Miss . . . they're fornicating!"
Professor Trelawney was majestic: "Sometimes the psychic entities seek to offend, but they can only do so via a spirit weakened by fleshly indulgence. Raymond, you should remove coffee, red meats and sugar from your diet."
Just as fatuous, but with more sinisterness, the dreaded Umbridge took them through the first two chapters of the official Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook—a masterpiece of bland, truistic platitudes, which would be of no help at all to anybody confronted with a genuine dark wizard.
They had all been expecting this and, knowing about Harry's detentions, realised that protest was useless and kept their heads down.
Danny, especially, remembering Dumbledore's strictures, was a model student—attentive to the alleged professor and frequently raising his hand to answer a question or pose a vanilla-flavoured question of his own.
Danny was furious at the stupidity of the Ministry approach: they believed Scumbag's return was a myth created by Dumbledore to discredit Fudge and grab his position; so they avoided any action that would give credibility to the myth and effectively took DADA off the syllabus as being redundant—redundant because there were supposedly no dark arts that needed defending against.
They were playing into Scumbag's hands—so obviously that Danny feared that there were more Scumbag supporters embedded within the Ministry than his parents suspected.
Something would have to be done—but not by Danny: he wasn't going to compromise his father.
As Danny walked out of the Great Hall after lunch, Sea Jay and Jonny bracketed him.
"Fancy a sesh, Danny?" asked Sea Jay.
"We've waited three days; we're bursting," said Jonny.
"You are a lying toe-rag!" grinned Danny, "I bet you've been emptying each other's nuts every day—morning, noon and night."
"Yeah—yeah," said Sea Jay, "but we're still bursting for little Danny."
"Well, little Danny's front and back are hors de combat through overwork, but little Danny's mouth can do more than talk and eat."
"You're on!" said Jonny.
"To the bogs! To the bogs!" said Sea Jay.
"We can do better than that," said Danny and led them to classroom 3E store-room.
Danny opened the store-room door and stopped.
Someone had beaten them to it.
Danny gasped with shock but relaxed when he recognised two Ravenclaw sixth-years—and an unlikelier pair of sexual partners he could not imagine.
Cho Chang had been Cedric's boyfriend and it seemed that he hadn't taken long to get over his bereavement.
Danny could well understand the demands of Sex, but that this effeminate boy should couple with Eddie Carmichael, an incorrigible hetero, was amazing.
The tall Gryffindors were peering over Danny's shoulders and Jonny restored plausibility to the situation: "Smokers! You kept that quiet!"
Danny looked down, and indeed there were two cigarettes burning in the boys' hands.
"Don't waste them, boys," he said, "And how are you keeping the fumes off?"
"Create Puritatem! periodically," answered Carmichael, "You will keep this quiet, won't you?"
"No, we'll go straight to Professor Flitwick and demand severe punishment, you tit!" said Sea Jay.
"Sorry!" said Carmichael.
Danny looked at the boys admiringly.
"When you've finished your ciggies, why not strip off and enjoy some more wizardly relaxation?" he said.
Carmichael laughed: "Oh is that what you're here for? Fair play to you and, as I told you last year, Danny, I beg to be excused."
Danny looked at Cho and said: "Sorry Cho, I didn't think. I'm sorry you lost Cedric—well we all are, but we can't pester you with commiserations all the time. As long as you know that everybody feels for you."
"Thanks, Danny," said Cho, looking, of course, miserable.
"Have you had Defence Against the Dark Arts yet?" asked Jonny.
"Yesterday morning," said Eddie Carmichael, "She's the most useless, obnoxious and arrogant old cow there's ever been."
"And that's being kind to her," said Jonny.
Danny maintained a discreet silence.
When the two Ravenclaws had finished their smokes and cleaned up, the three Gryffindors had the room to themselves.
They stripped off, revealing three erections: Danny's half-mast and still a bit sore; Sea Jay's big and curvy as Danny remembered from Knockturn Alley; Jonny's a bit smaller, but none the less desirable for that.
Danny magicked up a stool and stood on it so that he could snog the two boys—more briefly than usual as time was short.
He then crouched and parted Jonny's large, spotty bumcheeks. He saw a bumhole that was quite big, with a larger than usual ring of discolouration—not surprising if Sea Jay had been pounding it for a couple of years. There were flecks of what looked like recent poo.
"I had a shite before lunch," said Jonny.
"So I see . . . and smell," said Danny, and turned his attention to Jonny's front.
He cradled the taut ballsack and squeezed it gently.
He leant forward and smelt it: a splendid, musty boy-ball smell.
He licked it thoroughly and savoured the salty, spicy flavour before going for the sexiest smell of all: the niff from an active willy.
He was disappointed: there was nothing . . . or was there a faint mustiness, a sort of distant cousin to the nutty smell of boys' bumholes?
"Have you been pooing out of your willy too, Jonny?"
"You noticed."
"I wonder whose botty-wotty this was reaming out this morning?" with which words Danny opened his mouth and commenced to stimulate Jonny.
Sea Jay had crouched down and was inspecting Danny's hole.
"Can it take a finger, Danny?"
"Mur!" came a mumble which was clearly negative.
"The tip of a tongue?"
"Mur!"
Danny had got into his stride by now. He was sucking and tonguing hard while rocking his head back and forth and squeezing the base of Jonny's shaft with one hand and squeezing his balls with the other.
Sea Jay confined himself to nibbling Danny's bum all over, pausing occasionally to grab a whiff of his hole.
With all that was happening to his privates, and treated to the sight of Sea Jay's head bobbing about Danny's bum while his big, curvaceous willy floundered about on its own, it is not surprising that Jonny came quickly: a single spurt that hit Danny's palate giving him a slightly fruity after-taste.
Danny didn't hang about: he released Jonny and got Sea Jay on his feet.
He applied his nose deeply into the fantastic forest that grew from Sea Jay's bum.
There was little odour, and the reason was clear: the hairs around the hole had collected some flakes of what was presumably dried semen.
Sea Jay had been leaking.
Undeterred, Danny applied his tongue, licking round the hole and then pressing inside. He flickered his tongue in and out, rejoicing in the different textures: the thick, silky hairs of the bum; the wrinkly, leathery hole; the mucous membrane inside.
He reached around and gripped Sea Jay's willy with a thumb and two fingers at the mid-point and started a gentle wanking motion.
The excitement of licking Sea Jay's hole and feeling the undulant shape of his willy was pushing Danny into a slow hands-free orgasm.
Sea Jay was wriggling—excited by Danny's work and by the deep snogging that he was receiving from Jonny.
Danny broke off and quickly shifted himself to take Sea Jay's willy into his mouth.
He was just in time as a dollop of cum hit the back of his throat causing him to cough.
Heroically he carried on sucking as a second little dollop arrived.
"Don't swallow!" said Jonny.
"When Sea Jay stopped moving, Danny, still coughing, engaged Jonny in a snog and they shared Sea Jay's offering between them.
Danny's coughs turned to giggles and the other two boys giggled too.
Time was pressing and they dressed quickly and sneaked out of the store-room.
"From Heaven to Hell!" said Sea Jay, as they walked through the corridors, "Double Snape."
"I quite enjoy Potions, actually," said Danny.
"It's alright for you," laughed Jonny you're good at it—so are Ginny and Ray—but the rest of us—well, it reminds me of Muggle television where the most terrifying gangster used the most terrifying weapon: Sarcasm."
"Don't let it get to you," said Danny, "Just do your best and remember we've got two years till the O.W.L.S."
"Yeah, that's common sense, but when that greasy snot-pool is on your case, common sense doesn't apply."
Sea Jay laughed: "He'll be on your case alright if you go in with my cum all round your mouths."
Danny and Jonny wiped themselves clean with their handkerchiefs and prepared for a long afternoon.
By four-fifteen they had picked up two more lots of homework.
Danny didn't think any of it would be difficult, but it would be time-consuming—especially given constant applications for advice from his classmates. He wouldn't allow cribbing but was prepared to be helpful.
This evening Danny had another task: he wanted to write and memorise the speech he would make to the first-years.
Thursday evening might end up meaning nothing, but, on the other hand, it could change some people's lives, so it had to be done properly.
It was an exhausted Danny who hit the dorm at ten o'clock.
His dorm-mates were all awake and Danny stood on a chair and announced:
"Gentlemen, we hardly ever see each other and we all lead busy lives. I propose that, throughout this year, we make Saturday night our night: we lock ourselves in the dorm and have fun and games which will become more and more varied as our sweet little boy-bodies develop.
They all agreed that this would be wonderful.
Danny did his teeth, kissed them all and was asleep just before his head hit the pillow.
Danny got up at half past seven on Thursday morning.
He went down to breakfast in a state of nerves and would have been tense all day but for the warm support he received from his classmates—not just the three gay boys, but Stewart, Ray and the girls.
He got another boost during the first Herbology class of the term when Derek Rath told him: "Danny, we're guessing that your first-year meeting's to do with being gay and, if that's the case, you've got the whole of Hufflepuff behind you."
"I appreciate their support, Derek," said Danny, "that's two kiss-and-cuddles I owe you."
"A very, very, very mild cuddle is called for."
And the two boys embraced briefly.
A third boost came, as might be expected, from Dennis who caught Danny's eye, manœuvred two of his classmates into having a pee before dinner, manœuvred himself into a urinal between them, then, when Danny came in, backed off saying: "Hiya, Dan! Have my place."
So Danny got a pleasant eyeful. It was only two twelve-year-old willies, but watching them having a pee was nicely relaxing, and a brown one with a white one provided a nice contrast.
Chris Gillies tittered a bit and wiggled super-extravagantly after he'd finished. Raj Mallya, on the other hand didn't have a clue that he was starring in a peep-show.
Then, of course, there was support from his dorm: they all cheered him when they met before going downstairs.
Dinner was a bit nervy at dinner, but wasn't going to show it in front of his potential audience.
He wished that he had brought to Hogwarts the wherewithal for a stiff gin-and-tonic, but made up for it with lots of strong tea.
He went up to the dorm for a quick revision of his speech.
Then, at last, the moment came.
He set off for the historic meeting in the Old Muniments Room at a quarter to seven. In the Gryffindor common room, five apprehensive first-year boys were huddled in a corner. Their female colleagues were seated some way off, waiting curiously to see what it was all about.
"Coming?" said Danny, cheerfully and led the way through the portrait hole and down the corridor, looking like a mother duck leading her brood to their first swim—except that four of the boys were taller than Danny.
There were five Ravenclaws waiting outside the Old Muniments Room and he ushered all ten boys inside.
They had just finished arranging the chairs in two rows of ten when five Slytherins sidled in followed, two minutes later, by five Hufflepuffs.
One hundred percent turnout! Danny had expected that his known wealth and wizarding proficiency, coupled with the promise of some relief from new-boy nerves, would prove attractive, but one hundred percent!
"Before we begin," he said, "this is nothing to do with houses, so please mix yourselves up—a Gryffindor here . . . a Ravenclaw here . . ."
When the boys had been rearranged, Danny stood on a chair and scanned the twenty pretty boys—no that was a tautology—scanned the twenty boys. To Danny, they were aesthetically, but not sexually, appealing, though in a few years . . .
After some seconds, he addressed them:
"I said five minutes and I mean five minutes. Today I'll just tell you what it's all about and you can go away and think."
"As you know, I'm Danny Jorrocks. I'm thirteen years old, I'm in the Fourth-year and I'm gay."
There was some shuffling in the seats.
"I've known I was gay since before I came to Hogwarts. Don't ask me how or why: it's just a fact.
"To begin with I was totally confused, but over the last two years I've found my feet and I'm making an effort now to reduce confusion in first-years. I propose to form a group that will provide friendship and support for gay boys—starting with the first-years.
"I invite anyone who's interested in joining the group to let me know within the next week —openly if you want, or with a discreet note.
"You may have doubts over whether to join or not. The first thing to say is that Gay doesn't just mean Sex. It includes emotional feelings towards other boys. But when you get older some of you may find that these emotional feelings expand to take in Sex.
"And, of course you don't know what's gonna happen to you over the next few years: some of you will turn out to be gay for life; some will have a gay period and then find themselves attracted to girls; some of you won't be interested in either gender until you reach puberty.
"So please join—join if you feel boys can love each other; join even if you just have a vague feeling that you might be interested in gay relationships—physical or emotional—some time in the future. You can join even if it's only because you feel sympathetic to gay boys.
"And I don't need to tell you, but I will: don't join if you find the idea totally repulsive. But do, please, be tolerant of people like me and do, please, accept that being gay is being different but not being second best!
"Nobody needs to rush to a decision: you've all got a week. I hope to see some of you again. Thanks for listening!"
The formal closure brought reflex applause to two or three pairs of hands and the other boys half-heartedly joined in.
Danny turned immediately and left the room, thinking that perhaps it was a good idea for the boys to talk about it among themselves—in the current political climate any inter-house activity was good. He was stopped in the corridor by a voice calling "Danny!" He turned to see a tall, skinny boy with a puffy, homely face raising a hand as though in class.
Danny stopped to let the boy catch him up. As other first-years streamed by, the boy said: "Caerwen Morgan, Ravenclaw. Put me down please."
"You're in, Caerwen!"
"I'm like you: I—"
"Not a word!" said Danny, "Please save it for the group."
"OK."
Another boy who had already passed them turned back. "I was nervous about being first. Put me down, please, Gideon Buchanan, Hufflepuff."
"OK! Two!"
He looked at the boy admiringly. He was of mixed race with a beautiful light brown skin and he was very handsome.
Danny turned and carried on down the corridor, leaving Morgan and Buchanan trying not to stare at each other.
He got back to the common room elated with the success of the venture but more in need than ever for that missing gin-and-tonic.
The Gryffindor first-years—boys and girls—were talking in whispers, but excitedly.
Everyone else in the house was looking at him, but, being Danny, he was not in the least embarrassed.
Nevertheless, it was good to settle down to a relaxing game of cards with his friends.
All the fourth-years and higher should have been doing their homework, but there seemed a feeling that the night was special—the antics of Danny and the twins seemed to have diverted attention from serious matters like Harry or homework.
Amidst this carnival atmosphere, Danny noticed, to his concern, that Harry and Seamus were still not on speaking terms.
Harry was engaged in serious-looking discussions with Ron and Hermione.
Seamus was playing Table-Quidditch with Dean who was stealing unhappy glances at Harry.
Danny cursed Voldemort inwardly. Why couldn't people ignore him and just get on with each other? As opposed to the Ministry who ignored him and didn't get on with each other.
His ruminations were interrupted by a shout in his ear:
"Danny, yer wassock! Your go!"
Stewart sounded keen; that meant he had a good hand.
They were playing Wizard Poker for Quidditch '95 cards.
Danny threw his hand in. He had started with two Dragons, but one of his draws was a St George, so he was left with just Dragon-high.
He could hear Hermione nagging Ron:
"You're a prefect too. It's your duty to act jointly with me. We must show that this is an important matter."
Danny glanced at the door. He knew that the twins were in Gryffindor Corridor, selling Skiving paraphernalia and he hoped that Hermione wasn't going to cause a scene in front of other houses.
Or perhaps it was about house-elves; what had he done with his S.P.E.W. badge?
But a few minutes later, Hermione and Ron came up to him.
"Go on you say it," said Hermione.
Ron, pink-eared as ever, muttered: "Danny, as new prefects, we congratulate you on the humane impulse behind your meeting and wish you further success."
"Well done, Ronny!" said Danny, "You're not just saying that because Hermione told you to?"
"No, I mean it, and I'm sorry about Monday. I was out of order."
"What was that, Ron?" asked Hermione.
"Never mind," said Ron, blushing furiously.
"Thanks, both of you!" said Danny.
He really must find that S.P.E.W. badge.
Harry Potter came up and there was an immediate tension in the area.
"I may not be a prefect, Danny," he said, "but I'm a hundred percent behind you, too."
"You didn't need to tell me," said Danny, "You always stand up for the oppressed and against the oppressors."
A sixth-year girl came up and said: "Danny there's someone to see you."
Danny got up and went through the portrait hole. He had an erection and an enormous sex-urge—perhaps it was the thought of Ron's monster. His willy was cured, though last night's session with Adrian still throbbed pleasantly astern.
In the corridor, Fred and George were generating a lot of interest, if not sales.
His visitor was Jimmy Millar who took him to a quiet spot on the landing.
"Danny," he began, "please don't think I'm using you, but I've got a rather odd request."
"You can but ask!" said Danny.
"It's this fifth-year in our house. He's called Wayne Hopkins and he's really hot. We've done lots of wanking together, of course, and a bit of sucking, but he wants to bum me now, and the thing is: he's got a really big one.
"And you want me to magic it smaller?"
"Ha-ha! I want to work up to him—if your willy can take it: they say you've rubbed it raw this week."
"My willy's better, but it can't be the first stage, can it? There's Ian for one; and there must be lots of lovely tiddlers in Hufflepuff."
"It's not just the practical side—I've taken bigger than yours before—it's the thought of starting off with you. Apart from your general sexiness, the sight of you giving Ian one on Monday was so fabulous that I envied Ian, even though you were sucking me off at the time.
Both boys laughed.
"Come on then, Jimmy," said Danny, "Shall we go to the main bogs?"
"Don't need to: I've booked the dorm."
"Booked the dorm? What a civilised system! I reckon Hufflepuff house are ahead of me in promoting gay acceptance."
"We were in a sort of limited way. Then Cedric opened our eyes by seeing someone from Ravenclaw. Now you're trying to unite the whole school.
"Uniting the whole school will mean breaking Hufflepuff traditions."
"Maybe. But the history won't go away, will it?"
"A sensible view."
They had reached the entrance to Hufflepuff basement.
"I've just remembered," said Danny, "Isn't there a directive saying that only Hufflepuffs can enter? There's even a rhyme:
For many and many and many a year
Only Hufflepuffs enter here."
Jimmy laughed: "We all pretend that. It makes us feel important, but the second half of the rhyme goes:
Apart from friends who come to call,
For we are the friendliest house of all."
Jimmy tapped the Morse Code signal "M" "S" on one of several big barrels lying on their sides. It was only later on that Danny realised that the rhythm "dash dash dot dot dot" might also be "Helga Hufflepuff."
Jimmy then gave the password Brussels and the barrel top opened, revealing a stairway.
Down, down, down they went and, when they entered the common room, Danny was initially surprised to see windows; then he remembered the lakeside cliff.
The common room itself was a wonderfully comforting place. Yellows and blacks predominated and were overlayed with a mass of beautiful flowers.
All eyes were on Danny when he entered—not because he was a Gryffindor, but because he was Danny—indeed he saw a pair of Gryffindor sixth-years socialising with their friends, who included the slinky Julian Summers, a long-time fancy of Danny.
Ian Berry waved as Jimmy led Danny through a round doorway—all the doors were circular—into a delightful dormitory with five beds arranged along one wall and five lockers alternating with six windows along the other. A door at the end led to the ablutions.
Jimmy magicked their clothes off—impressive, even if they ended up in untidy heaps. Then he magicked his bumhole into smoothness.
Danny had been prepared to explain sexual positions, but Jimmy immediately lay on the edge of his bed with his knees behind his ears.
"You don't get away with that!" said Danny, and engaged Jimmy in the mandatory snog before sliding down to press his nose to Jimmy's bum. Soap again, but Danny brought his tongue into action and circled the target area.
Derek Rath must have been talking, because Jimmy showed pleasure, but no surprise, as Danny licked out his bumhole.
Some nifty fingerwork gave Danny assurance that Jimmy was ready for mounting—and, indeed, assurance that Jimmy had been mounted many times previously.
With a quick slurp at the ballsack on the way, Danny repositioned himself, slid his willy in and was soon bouncing away as merrily as Dennis.
His willy was back to full working order and every stroke seemed to bring its own little tingle of pleasure.
He didn't take long to come but, as he was the opening player, it didn't really matter.
"Thanks Danny," said Jimmy, "I'll see you out—or would you mind seeing the next one in?"
"Certainly. Who's next?"
"Justin Finch-Fletchley."
"Cor blimey! You couldn't name me a straighter boy!"
"I could: Owen Cadwallader."
"Jimmy, Hufflepuff amazes me! You seem to get more sex from your straight boys than we do from our gays."
"Yes, we organise ourselves well," said Jimmy complacently.
He allowed a goodbye snog and resumed his receptive position before Danny returned to the common room.
Justin Finch-Fletchley and Owen Cadwallader were sitting round a table with a third boy—presumably the famous Wayne Hopkins. They were reading magazines, which gave the set-up the appearance of a doctor's waiting-room.
Justin stood up and shook hands with Danny.
"How do you do, Danny? Pleased to see you."
"How do you do, Justin? Pleased to see you—and surprised, given the number of times you refused my offers last year."
"Ah well, Danny, real men don't chase little boys, you know. Now you're a big boy, you'll find a lot of us will be more—ah—hands-on, Won't we Owen?"
"I should jolly well say so, old thing," said Owen Cadwallader—juxtaposition of his cockney twang and Finch-Fletchleyish phraseology providing an affectionate, and probably well-used, dig at Justin's patrician manner.
"How do you do, Owen—may I call you Owen?" said Danny, shaking hands.
"Of course you can, Danny."
Owen was a huge sixth-year with hands twice the size of Danny's.
Justin completed the introductions: "Wayne Hopkins—Danny Jorrocks."
Danny shook hands with a brown-haired, tubby fifth-year, who hadn't registered with Danny over the last two years.
"I'd better go and see our Jimmy," said Justin, "How did you leave him, Danny?"
Danny grinned: "Wide open to suggestions," he said.
"Be seeing you, then," said Justin, and he walked importantly towards Jimmy's dormitory.
"Before I go, could you show me where I can have a pee, Wayne?" asked Danny.
"Yeah, it's down that passage, Danny," said the fat boy.
"I was wondering if you could show me."
"Oh I see. Oh I see. Sorry, we Hufflepuffs are a bit slow on the uptake. Follow me."
"I'd better come too in case there are werewolves," said Owen, and he lumbered off behind Wayne.
The Hufflepuff lav was also decorated in yellow and black.
Wayne and Owen made no pretence of having a pee, but stood under the light with their willies hanging out.
Danny was in heaven.
They were both whoppers—five inches long in a limp state.
Owen's was quite skinny but Wayne's—Wayne's was unbelievable: it was so thick—two inches in diameter—that Danny knew at once why Jimmy needed so much preparation before taking it inside him.
"Wow!" he said and reached out to feel Wayne.
There was enough meat to supply a Sunday joint for a family of four.
Wayne backed away: "Don't make me hard or I'll shoot off right away," he said, "and we can't let Jimmy down."
"Same here," said Owen, "but we can risk a little feel."
Danny wrapped his hand around Owen's penis. It twitched straightaway and Owen removed Danny's hand.
"Maybe not," he said, "You're such a sexy little thing."
Danny turned to Wayne: "Whose has yours been up, Wayne?"
"Only Nathan Slack, but he's left now. Well, I used to do Ced until it got too big for him about a year and a half ago. We were going to have another go after the Triwizard, but . . ."
There were tears in his eyes and the empathetic Danny also started dripping down his cheeks.
"Come on, Wayne. Give Jimmy his dues and dedicate the whole thing to Cedric."
Danny gave Wayne his hand and led the two Hufflepuffs into their common room.
He said goodbye and hurried away up the stairs.
Danny arrived back at the Gryffindor common room just in time for curfew.
Things were quieter as the younger boys had gone to bed and the students who remained were mostly reading or doing homework. Even the twins and Lee Jordan were keeping relatively quiet as they played Wizard Carpet Bowls.
Harry had gone to bed, but his prefect friends were sitting in two comfy chairs by the fire.
Danny ran and sat on Ron's lap, putting one arm round his shoulders.
"Friends now, Ronny!" he said.
"Just good friends," tittered Hermione.
"Geroff!" said Ron.
"Yeah, in a mo."
"Danny, have you been crying?" asked Hermione with concern.
"Yeah, I was in Hufflepuff and Cedric came up. But listen you two," his voice dropped, "I've got something to say: defence against thingy: think about it: Lupin—brilliant; Moody, or his stand-in—brilliant. Now Umbridge."
He wiggled his bottom, hoping to feel Ron's monster.
"Now I think Umbridge is also brilliant, but I'm afraid some people will think a whole generation of witches and wizards are missing out and that something should be done."
"Like what?" asked Hermione, very interested and serious now.
"These nasty subversives would start with what the Muggles call a mission statement: like that the subject should be taught properly. You as prefects should think in advance the sort of things the subversives might do."
He was shifting about on Ron's lap with no result.
"I think you're right, Danny," said Hermione.
"But you can't really think Umbridge is brilliant," said Ron.
"So innocent! You can't help loving him," said Danny planting a kiss on Ron's cheek and running off before Ron could clobber him."
Hermione was blushing.
In the dorm, Danny gave a quick review of his meeting with the first-years and Barry gave a quick wanking demo before the five happy boys went to bed.
— CHAPTER SIX —Tom's Midnight AdventureNext morning Danny walked into the Great Hall and scanned the Hufflepuff table. He waved at Jimmy who gave him the thumbs-up. There was applause again from the Hufflepuffs. This was getting embarrassing. No it wasn't: Sex was Fun.
He sat down with the Creeveys and Dennis immediately drew Danny and Colin to the end of the table, telling them he wanted to talk in secret.
"Last night I had a dream," he began, "You were doing me, Dan, so it was great. But you had a big willy and I was really enjoying it."
"Perhaps it's a prophecy, Den," said Danny.
"Shall we ask Professor Trelawney?" said Colin, and they tittered.
"I don't want to wait for a year, or whatever, until you two grow up," said Dennis, "Danny, can't you find someone with a big one to do me while you're there so I can make love to you and Col with my bottom being stretched?"
"I'm sure I can do that for my little Den."
"I missed my chance when you were Tom. I'd been hoping he'd do me but when he was actually there, I sort of froze inside. I'm kicking myself."
"Tom's gone, but we'll find you a good substitute. Jointly approved by me and Col."
"Has Tom gone?" said Colin, "Didn't you have half a bottle of Polyjuice left over Dan?"
"Of course! It's only a week and a day old, so it'll still be good for three-quarters of an hour."
"Let's do it tonight!" said Colin.
"Yes let's!" said Danny.
"Right," said Danny, "I don't want to be bothered with Tom-size clothes, so I'll borrow Barry's dressing-gown and go just in that. Then we do the dirty deed and wait till I change back before returning."
"Where's somewhere safe?" asked Colin.
"How about your old friend classroom 3E store-room?" suggested Danny.
"Perfect!" said Dennis.
"Then I'll pick you both up at one o'clock. My alarm's better than yours. Bring your Charms book, Den. What could be more natural than me and Col helping you out in the library? That's the story if we're caught. And if anyone catches us on the third floor, we'll say we thought we heard Filch near the library so ran there to hide."
"They can't give us more than a detention, can they?" said Dennis.
"No, and even if they do, we'll be together," said Colin, "And we'll start together: Den can sleep with me so you can wake us both up at once.
The rest of Friday was a day of hard work, the highlight being Danny's invitation to Harry to be his number nine—an invitation which had the same unfortunate result as previous ones.
The last lesson of the day was Herbology. It was great fun, as usual, but this one was made memorable by the smiles with which the Hufflepuffs regaled Danny.
"There's more stories to tell, Danny," said Sea Jay.
"Not when we're doing Bouncing Bulbs!" said Danny but, as they walked back after the lesson, he told his three friends about the Hopkins project.
As they were going in to dinner, Danny felt a note being pressed into his hand and chuckled to himself. No doubt Derek Rath and a few more Hufflepuffs wanted a bit more Danny-action.
However, when he read the note, he saw:
Dear Danny,
Please may we join your group?
Euan Abercrombie (Gryffindor)
Peter Jones (Gryffindor)
Two from Gryffindor! As far as Danny was concerned two was more than a quorum. Who saves one man saves the world he thought, thinking of Dr de Castro.
He passed the evening catching up with his homework and went quietly to bed at half past nine.
At one o'clock Danny awoke and got into Barry's dressing-gown. It brushed the floor—he must remember to hold it up if he had to run. He stashed the Polyjuice and a tube of lubricant in the pocket.
In his bare feet, he crept down to the fourth-year dormitory, found Colin's bed and pulled down the cover.
Colin and Dennis were top-and-tailed, each sucking the other's toe, with one hand on a willy and the other on a bum.
They looked so innocent and sweet that Danny felt an impulse not to disturb them, then a second impulse to join them, but duty called.
He nudged them awake and they got into dressing gowns and slippers.
They crept downstairs, reached the common room and sent Dennis back to fetch his Charms textbook, which he had forgotten. After this hiccough, they continued and passed through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was asleep.
With two companions, the corridors were less eerie than when he had visited Adrian. He wondered whether Adrian would have found Tom as sexy as he had found Danny. What sort of homo was Adrian? Just little boys? Or would he like performing with a real man, five years older than Danny? Danny would have liked to have found out, but Tom was reserved for Dennis.
They listened carefully as they crept up the stairs towards the third-floor classrooms.
At on stage Dennis shushed them and whispered: "I thought I heard something."
They stopped and listened for a minute, but all was quiet.
When they reached the store-room, Danny magicked the door locked and magicked a mattress, printed with multiple images of Harry, onto the floor.
Meanwhile the Creeveys were stripping.
"Shall we have a SICK before you change?" whispered Colin.
"Good idea," said Danny.
They checked the door and all the shelves, then locked themselves in a three-way kiss and cuddle.
Emotions were running high and three very stiff erections appeared.
"Goodness, your willy's getting long!" said Danny to Colin.
"Let me see!" said Dennis, "It is! It is! Col you might get a whopper!"
"Shh!" said his brother, but Dennis didn't hear: he had crouched down and had Colin's willy fully inside his mouth.
He jumped up to kiss Colin and said: "Really long, Col!"
Danny, of course, had to have a mouthful too while Dennis felt lower down and said: these are getting bigger too!"
For some time, Tom was forgotten, then Danny called the meeting to order: "Come on, my loves, let's get back to the agenda."
He reached for his wand.
"I nearly forgot: Illaun!"
He took the Polyjuice and downed it in one.
Almost before he had finished, he felt himself changing. Every bit of him was stretching and expanding and soon he was looking down at two very small boys.
"Look," he whispered—Tom's whisper—"Polyjuice preserves erectile status. I wonder if Professor Snape knows that."
The Creeveys had a comprehensive grope before Dennis asked: "What position do you want me, Tom?"
"The one that straights think gay men use: face down on the bed."
Dennis stretched himself out and Danny gave him a Lubricio! before smothering Tom's willy and business-fingers with cream.
Colin immediately dived in and wiggled a finger inside Dennis who told him: "No-one's got a touch like you, Col."
When Colin had got two fingers inside and rotated and stretched them a bit, he told Danny: "He's ready Tom."
Danny looked down at the puny neck, the bony back and the two round, tiny buttocks.
Dennis was so attractive and so available.
Suddenly Danny had an urge: I've gotta rape that kid!"
His loins actually jerked forward.
Tom's got a cruel streak he thought.
He forced himself to crouch slowly and very gently pushed a finger inside Dennis's bumhole.
It went in easily enough, but a second finger met with some resistance—Tom's hands were much bigger than Colin's.
He carried on with one finger for a bit, then tried again.
This time he got two folded fingers in and Dennis felt relaxed.
"OK, Den?" he asked.
"OK, big boy!"
He increased the stretch by increments, feeling Dennis's muscles tense and relax each time.
Then he knew that the moment had come.
He crouched a bit more and pressed Tom's willy against the hole.
He hadn't considered the shape before. Tom's acorn was reasonably pointed, but the wide bit at its base was big. Dennis was facing an even sterner task than Danny had had with Adrian, even though the willy concerned was a good inch shorter.
He pushed a little and said: "Alright?"
"Yeah, nice."
"Say stop when it hurts. Don't try and be brave. We'll get there in the end."
He pressed the bell-end until it was nearly all hidden.
Then a little bit more and Dennis called Stop!
He stopped and held his position, allowing the ring muscles to adjust to the new stretch.
Then a tiny bit more.
In all there were five more stops before Danny could look down and see that the wide bit was past the anus—he was two inches inside.
He pressed a bit more, then reversed: three inches in . . . two and a half . . . four . . . three and a half . . . five . . . he was shagging.
"OK Den?"
"OK! Shag me!"
He stretched himself and let his body weight press him into Dennis.
Then he started some serious thrusting.
"That's good!" muttered Dennis "Shag me harder, Tom!"
Danny was getting very excited. It wasn't just a sex thing: he had a feeling of power. Most of his mind was thinking: I'm giving and getting pleasure with Dennis Creevey, whom I love! But there was some part of him that was thinking: I'm shagging the arse off this shrimp and he couldn't escape if he wanted to!
He was working himself into such a frenzy that he scarcely noticed that Colin was exploring Tom's bumhole with his tongue.
He felt his orgasm approaching and banged harder and faster with Dennis squealing Go on! Go on! Shag me! Shag me!
Then he slowed and, with a mighty thrust that had all his body weight behind it, released a huge spurt deep into Dennis.
And again . . . and again.
Goodness knows how many times.
He released his last dribble with his last heave and lay panting on top of Dennis.
There was a sharp pain in his right bumcheek: Colin had nipped him.
There was a pleasant smell that he recognized as coming from Tom's armpits.
He felt Colin move on top of him and braced his knees and elbows to relieve the weight from Dennis.
Colin parted Tom's bumcheeks, drove his willy straight inside and commenced a high-speed shag.
There was a little pain, but Danny had no time to analyse his feelings before Colin came with a yell which was smothered as he bit into Tom's shoulder.
After a few seconds, Colin dismounted and moved to talk to his brother.
"What was it like, Den?"
"It was brilliant! I don't know whether I came or not, but it felt so good. Being done by a real man is the best. You and Danny have just gotta grow quickly."
"Plenty of sucking might help."
Colin sat down and straddled his legs on either side of Dennis's head.
Dennis pushed himself up and took Colin's willy into his mouth. He sucked while panting heavily through his nose.
Danny pushed himself up and slowly withdrew Tom's willy.
As the wide bit passed the ringpiece, Dennis gave a little yelp.
"Thank you for not biting," said Colin and the three boys giggled—not for the first or last time that evening.
A trickle of brownish fluid oozed from Dennis.
"Over here, Tom," said Colin, and Danny, with legs wide open was soon straddling both the boys so as to allow Tom to be sucked by Colin.
They carried on for a minute or so. There was no conversation but a sense of mutual communication nonetheless.
This sense led them to feel when enough was enough and they uncoupled themselves.
Danny and Tom immediately inspected Dennis's bumhole out of which fluid was still leaking.
"Squat and let it all out, Den," said Colin.
Dennis squatted on the mattress and an impressive gush of cum flowed out accompanied by farts, a small turd and giggles.
"Imagine shitting on Harry!" said Dennis.
"You do it too, Tom," said Colin, "I felt as though I was coming gallons."
Danny squatted and was able to release a blob.
"Well done, Col," shouted Dennis.
"That mattress is a mess," said Colin "C'mon Den, let's finish the job!"
He pissed over the back of Tom's head.
With loud giggles, Dennis bounced—literally this time—to Danny's front and produced a stream of pee over Tom's face.
They suddenly froze.
There was a sound of voices.
The people outside might have been talking for some time with the three revellers too rapt to notice.
"Get dressed!" whispered Tom, though there was no need for quiet.
The brothers hastened to obey.
Danny Vanished the mattress.
He considered the Illaun! Seamus had said that it would vanish when it wasn't needed. Well, if people were going to come in, not only would it not be needed, but it would be positively undesirable.
He did the Create Puritatem! on each of them and whatever air-freshening charms he could remember.
"They often come in here," said a voice—Filch's voice.
"Let's see," said another voice—an oily, petulant, malicious voice.
It was Professor Snape.
The door handle was tried.
Danny had to decide between being caught using Polyjuice, trying to neutralise Snape or hiding. He chose the last course and did a non-verbal Disillusionment Charm.
"Coo!" said each of the Creeveys.
"A pathetic attempt," Snape was saying, "Alohomora!"
The door opened.
The professor sneered: "Gryffindor! I might have known! To your incompetence in wizard learning you add an addiction to tobacco—IT'S NOT FUNNY!"
Dennis had been so imprudent as to giggle.
"Sorry, Sir," said Dennis, "It's just that—er—"
"What my brother means, Sir, is—well, we may not obey every rule, but we've never even tried smoking and, it's just funny to be accused of—"
"What other possible reason have you for being here?" interrupted Snape.
"We were going to the library, Sir, and we thought we heard someone prowling around, so we hid here."
"I don't believe a word of it. It's Potter as usual."
"Harry Potter, Sir?" asked Dennis.
"What other Potter could it be imbecile?"
"It could be a codeword, Sir," said Colin.
Snape looked even more furious: "What do you mean by that?"
"I don't know, Sir," said Colin.
Snape's sickly complexion had taken on a reddish colour.
"Where is Harry Potter? It's a question that even stupid Gryffindor students should be able to understand."
Snape peered around the room.
"Well, Sir—" began Colin.
"Yes, yes; tell me the truth!"
"He had detention," said Colin.
"With Professor Umbridge," said Dennis.
"I didn't ask for his life history!"
"So he couldn't go to Quidditch trials," said Colin.
"Ron Weasley is the new Keeper," said Dennis.
Snape was close to auto-combusting: "I don't care if Cornelius Fudge is the new Keeper! WHERE IS POTTER?"
"We're trying to tell you, Sir," said Colin.
"And we're telling you the truth," said Dennis.
The Creeveys cross-talk act blossomed.
"When they came in from Quidditch, he talked to the Weasleys and Angelina."
"Then he talked to Hermione while Ron Weasley was trying on Oliver Wood's robe."
"And then he went upstairs, Sir."
"And we followed him soon after."
"Not to his dorm."
"Because he's a fifth year."
"So we went to my dorm."
"That's the fourth year dorm, Sir."
"And got stuck on Charms."
"So we decided to sort it out so we could have a nice weekend."
"And we met you and Mr Filch."
"And here we all are," concluded Dennis triumphantly.
Snape looked as though Cruciatus was the mildest curse that he would have liked to use on the Creeveys.
He turned to Filch and said: "Filch, take these morons to Professor McGonagall and warn her that Potter is on the loose."
"Yes, Professor; come on you two; you're in trouble."
When they had gone, Snape stood in the doorway."
"Potter, I know you're in here with an Invisibility Cloak, which won't do you any good.
Danny expected Snape to splatter the room with spells. He muttered Safe! to his amulet.
Snape had other ideas: with a wave of his wand, he conjured up a broom handle and, extending his arm, started a physical probe into every part of the room . . . every part except Danny's location.
Danny had been poised to Stun Snape, but that wasn't necessary: the powerful Disillusionment Charm prevented Snape, not only from seeing Danny, but also from apprehending the space Danny occupied.
Danny guessed that Snape could make contact with him by accident, but reckoned that the charm would still hold. He hoped it would not be put to the test, though.
With growing amusement, Danny realised that Snape couldn't believe that Harry Potter was not present. He swept the room again and again, traversing the floor and shelving, covering the same space over and over.
Eventually Snape must have realised that he was behaving like someone suffering from the Muggle disease Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
He Vanished the broom handle and walked out the room, slamming the door after him.
Danny gave him five minutes before gently opening the door and slinking out.
Events as significant as a door opening would not be totally concealed to a skilled wizard by the Disillusionment Charm, so Danny was very careful as he opened the door from the classroom to the corridor.
He stuck his head out the door: not a sound and nothing stirring.
He slithered through the opening and set off quickly for the safety of Gryffindor.
Suddenly there was shouting from behind him.
Then came flashes of light.
Danny got his thoughts in order and turned as a dark figure continued to intone: Petrificus Totalus! . . . Petrificus Totalus! . . . Petrificus Totalus! . . .
He had to give credit to Snape for his persistence: convinced Harry Potter was present under an Invisibility cloak, he was firing off groups of curses which systematically covered the cross section of the corridor.
Danny wasn't concerned: his Amulet would guard against anything Snape could throw at him. An occasional invocation of Safe! had kept the charm fresh.
He resumed his journey to Gryffindor—this time at a jog-trot: the situation was under control but he'd had quite enough adventure for the night and simply wanted to be home and in his own body.
He tripped up and fell.
As soon as he tried to get back up, he knew something was wrong . . . but it couldn't be . . . he couldn't be in a body-bind!
But he was: Snape's curse had worked.
Polyjuice! he thought.
The Amulet, which had so successfully ridden through his Disillusionment Charm, had been fooled by a simple change of bodily form.
Danny tried to roll over but the only muscles he could move were those connected with seeing and breathing.
Snape, meantime, had reverted to explorations with a broom handle judging by the tip-tapping sounds that Danny could hear.
The Disillusionment was still holding, but Snape, being a wizard of great precision and thoroughness, must have been monitoring each of his curses and had realised that one had gone missing.
Danny tried to remove the curse: Finite Incantatum! he pronounced internally several times, but knew his effort would be in vain without a wand to channel the energy.
He looked down and saw his wand a tantalising six inches from his hand.
It looked like a stalemate. The Disillusionment would hold until he fell asleep. The Body-bind would hold until he started to starve: Danny knew this because it was not counted as a Serious Curse, let alone Unforgiveable.
The biggest worry was that Danny would be missed when morning came. His dorm-mates would assume that he was off on a sexual rampage but when he didn't appear at breakfast someone would raise the alarm—not the Creeveys, though, as they knew that Danny had been up to no good and maybe wanted to hide.
"Potter, you're trapped and this time I will do my utmost to see that you are expelled," called Snape as he tapped away.
Things continued as they were for some time.
Danny's mind started to wander back to the earlier part of the evening and he relived his incandescent coupling with Dennis.
He thought about Dennis's beautiful bottom and how tight it had felt and how Dennis had shouted with pleasure.
His penis twitched.
Wait a minute! His penis had twitched!
So here was another set of muscles that could function through a Petrificus Totalus! Quite fitting really, considering the wording of the curse.
But his wand had fallen at the gap of his dressing-gown right next to his crotch. If he got a stiffie, it had a good chance of touching the wand, in which case he should be able to manage something in the way of magic.
His excitement in one area had lost him excitement in another and he set his mind to contemplating Dennis's bottom again.
No twitch came.
Why, oh why, did erections come every ten minutes as a matter of course during a typical day and then go all shy when they were needed for something else?
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a third party:
"Professor Snape" called a voice.
Danny looked down the dimly-lit corridor.
Professor McGonagall, robes billowing, was striding towards the scene of the action.
"Severus, in the name of Merlin, what are you doing now?"
Sneeringly and triumphantly, Snape replied: "I have Potter here, immobilised and concealed by the Invisibility Cloak you always deny his possessing."
"Do you mean Harry Potter, Severus?"
"Has the whole of Gryffindor gone mad? Of course I mean Harry Potter!"
"Which Harry Potter?"
"Minerva are you ill? Are you suffering a brainstorm?"
"I must be if I think there are two Harry Potters."
"Two Harry Potters," echoed Snape vaguely, "why two?"
"Well, you have your Harry Potter and I have my Harry Potter, who I have just pulled out of his bed—not immobilised and not concealed by an Invisibility Cloak!"
Danny looked further down the corridor and saw Harry and the two Creeveys.
His breath faltered: apparently Laughter still functioned under a Body-bind.
"Come here, boys," ordered Professor McGonagall.
The three boys—Harry, followed by Colin and Dennis, who, Danny saw with a surge of Love, were holding hands—approached.
"I—er—he must have returned quickly" said Snape.
"Oh, Severus," said Professor McGonagall, "as soon as Argus came to me I went up to Potter's dormitory and found him asleep.
"Then perhaps Potter wasn't exactly there, but he has broken every school rule in the past and I'm sure he was the inspiration for these two malefactors."
"Perhaps the Thought Police should rope in the Weasley twins and Jordan too, Severus."
"Certainly all the problems seem to come from Gryffindor."
"All the problems seem to be in your mind, Severus. Are you ill? Are you suffering a brainstorm?"
Snape spluttered with rage for a moment and then said: "It is no brainstorm that Filch and I set out to apprehend smokers and discovered these two Gryffindor boys in a store cupboard. Even if they were not smoking, they have seriously offended and I hope you will bestow a serious punishment."
Professor McGonagall turned to the Creeveys: "Creevey Major, Creevey Minor, even if your tale about an aborted library visit is true, I am still going to punish you severely. Your punishment is that I shall not rebuke Professor Snape for calling you imbeciles and morons. Come boys!"
She strode back the way she had come and the three young wizards followed her.
Now, during this entertaining exchange, Danny's eyes had been on Colin—or, more specifically, on the focus of Colin's eyes which was Harry's bottom.
Of course Colin was keeping his own bottom unsullied, but now Danny wondered if his lust for Harry was running in other directions.
The thought of Colin shagging Harry—a brand new image—gave Danny a quick erection.
To his joy, the little pink tip emerged from Baz's dressing gown and just brushed for a moment against Danny's wand.
Danny seized the moment at once and uttered aloud (but inaudible to Snape): Accio Wand!
It was a nice, simple spell and his wand immediately twitched into his hand.
Finite Incantatum! he yelled and was able to get onto his feet.
He turned to look at Snape, who was looking puzzled.
For the third time Danny set off for Gryffindor.
For the third time he got a shock.
Homenum Revelio!
Snape's spell had got through and Danny—or rather, Tom—was visible to Snape. Why had he not invoked Safe!?
He addressed his Amulet and corrected his omission right away.
"Who are you, boy?" rasped out Snape.
Danny paused to work out his tactics.
He was protected against Snape's spells but he knew that Snape could ward off any spells that Danny could cast.
Then he had it: he would use obfuscation. But first a little fun:
"I'm a seventh-year, and I don't like being called boy by a boorish greaseball," he said.
"What is your name?" asked Snape, his temper at boiling point and his wand twitching.
"Dennis Compton, from Ravenclaw. I'm a new student this term."
"I have not seen your face."
"My parents wouldn't let me take Potions on account of me not being able to suffer fools gladly."
With a sneer, Snape said: "If that is the case, why are you associating with the Creeveys?"
"Never heard of them. Was that the three good-looking boys with Professor McGonagall?"
"You did not recognize Potter?"
"Of course I did! Is he a Creevey? What is a Creevey?"
"We will discuss that with Professor Flitwick. Walk back to your house. I shall be behind you."
"Purpurea Nebulissima!"
It was the first spell that Danny had ever created: at the age of eleven he had noticed the random energy released by a carelessly-used wand and channelled it into something visible.
A thick purple mist spread from the end of his wand, enveloping the entire corridor.
Danny ran as curses from Snape flew past him or spluttered harmlessly against his shield.
He ran to the corridor approaching Ravenclaw tower, filled the corridor with mist, then turned right, heading for Gryffindor.
Snape might be fooled into believing that Dennis Compton had entered Ravenclaw or he might follow Danny towards Gryffindor.
Of course, Snape was clever. He might have guessed that this was something to do with Gryffindor and headed straight there, in which case he was in a position to cut Danny off.
"Murmuring Safe! again, Danny doubled his speed and, skidding at each corner, reached Gryffindor corridor safely.
He called Mimbulus mimbletonia! and Pertineo! to the Fat Lady and scampered to his dormitory.
One more spell—a Deletrius! to remove the memory of all his naughty spells from his wand—and he was ready for bed.
He dumped his wand on his bed and took off Barry's dressing-gown.
He was walking over to Barry's hook when it seemed as though the floor had jumped up and hit him.
He couldn't understand it: his Safe! was up-to-date. What super-powerful spell could lay him low like this?
Then he realised that he had been subjected to what the Muggles call a rugby tackle.
As he sat up, the lights came on and he looked into the faces of his four dorm-mates.
"Who are you?" asked Barry, still panting from the rugby tackle "And why have you got my dressing-gown?"
"And why did you have Danny's wand?" asked David.
"And where's Danny?" asked Nick.
"Did you have to be so rough?" said Tom, feeling his bruises and looking up at the four boys.
"Where's Danny?" repeated Nick.
"Are any of Danny's clothes missing?" asked Tom.
"What's that got to do with it?" said Barry, but David looked around Danny's bed.
"Jim-jams . . . dressing gown . . . slippers . . . robe . . . socks . . . undies . . . shirt . . . trainers," intoned David, "They're all here."
"Then we can assume that Danny is currently in the nude," said Tom.
"Danny naked and wandless . . ." said Stephen.
"But surrounded by his friends," said Tom.
"How do you know?" said David, "Where is he?"
"Think about it, Wardy: where is there a naked boy surrounded by other boys?"
"If we want riddles, we can get them from The Quibbler!"
"David, you didn't look so cross when my willy was up your bumhole on Sunday night."
"Whatyer mean? That was Danny. Who told you?" spluttered David.
"Are you telling us that you're Danny?" asked Barry.
"Oh, Baz, I can still feel the hot, hot spurt of your cum on my bottom when I was shagging Stephen . . . who hasn't said a word but looks particularly sexy tonight."
Indeed, Tom, having apparently lost his hetero basis, was stiffening.
Stephen, nudged into words by Tom's comments, spoke: "But how, Danny?"
"Never heard of Polyjuice?"
Three of the lads looked blank, but David half-remembered: "I think Snape mentioned it once."
"So what is it?" asked Barry.
"It means I've got another boy's form," said Danny, standing up and doing a twirl.
"Who is he?" said Barry, "I mean . . ."
"He means what a willy!" said David.
Danny grasped Tom's willy and started jiggling it. It was stiff and peeled: the full six and three-quarter inches was deployed.
"We've only got another few minutes before I change back to Danny," he said, "so gather round for an exhibition!"
The lads obeyed with alacrity and gaped as Danny accelerated to full-speed whacking.
For an instant he caught an echo of Tom's mind: should be a girls' school.
Putting this revolting thought out of his own mind, Danny looked at his friends. David, Barry and Stephen had reached down to pull out their willies. David was erect and wanking himself at the same rate as Tom. Nicholas was staring at Tom's whopper like a rabbit at a snake.
Danny glanced down and agreed with his friends: Tom had a terrific penis: fat, long—but not too long to stand up for itself—super-endowed with foreskin and embedded in a great bush of hair from which flashes of ginger reflected the lantern-light due to the moistness there.
Moistness! thought Danny. Tom's semen mixed with a bit of Dennis-poo.
If the thought of his shag with Dennis had not excited him towards orgasm, the sight of his four dorm-mates would have sufficed: standing in a circle, eyes glued to Tom's vibrating willy and the big plums underneath, they were all four of them enjoying high-speed wanks.
Barry gave a grunt. He had caught up with Tom—overtaken him, even, as, with splendid accuracy, he shot a spear of cum to which splattered against Tom's genitals and dripped down to the floor.
This was so erotic that Tom came immediately and directed his own spurt, at a four-foot range to soak Barry's equipment.
"Gimme some, Danny!" shouted Stephen and Danny obliged.
Stephen moistened his willy with Tom's cum and wanked harder than ever, before squawking his way through a come which was obviously pleasurable, but obstinately dry.
"Bloody Hell!" said Barry, breathlessly, "We'll have nothing left for tomorrow."
"We'll enjoy ourselves somehow, Baz," said Danny, "Trust me."
"When are you going to change back, Danny?" asked David, "Or is there a counter-potion?
"I took it at ten past one and it should last for an hour, so we've got ten minutes . . . I assume you want to see it happen?"
There was a chorus of assent and the boys circled Danny, inspecting Tom's body.
Barry had just asked Danny to Show us your arsehole when there was a knock on the door.
"I aint here!" said Danny, running to hide in the ablutions.
From behind a shower door he was delighted to here Colin's voice calling: "Is Danny back?"
There was a chorus of negatives and, as Danny advanced towards the dorm, he could hear Colin shouting: "Then why are you all up and don't say you heard our knock; you haven't had time; you should have left it a minute; poor security; Dannee!"
Colin had seen Danny, but didn't run for a hug—it was the wrong body after all.
"It's my security that's up the spout, Col" said Danny, "That's four more people that know about the Polyjuice."
"We'll never tell!" said David, and the others shouted their agreement.
"I know, you true, loyal friends but you couldn't resist Occlumency and other Probing so it would have been better for you not to have known."
"It doesn't really matter, Dan," said Colin, "As you said before: who cares if our sex-life gets known?"
"Was that what it was for, Danny?" asked Baz.
"You bet, pardner!" said Colin cowboyishly, "It was great, wasn't it Den?"
"Alright, Den?" said Danny, "You're a bit quiet."
"Tired," said Dennis, "but I had to come and say goodbye to Tom."
He waked stiffly over and held out his hand. Danny went to shake hands, but Dennis shook Tom's still-dripping willy instead and Danny, with superb reactions, raised his hand to cock a snook.
Amid the laughter, David said: "Dennis, you're limping. You didn't . . . I mean with . . . Danny?"
There was a sudden silence and Barry said: "You've had that . . . up your . . .?"
Dennis laughed and said: "Yeah, I got a full-power shagging off Danny—the big-cock version of Danny and it was bloody wonderful! Not that Monday's shagging off Danny wasn't bloody wonderful. I was number five, but lucky Wardy was number one and lucky Stephen was number two. Just think: when you're old men you can look back and say I lost my virginity to Danny Jorrocks! Dannee!"
While Dennis was exuberantly celebrating the joys of friendship, Danny had got that shrinking feeling and was back in his own body.
The six lads clustered round Danny, jabbering away and hugging him.
Then Colin shouted: "Stand back: advancement of wizarding knowledge"
He looked closely at Danny's neck and turned him round to look at his bottom.
"I gave you two great big love-bites and they've gone! That means you can use Polyjuice to protect yourself in a duel."
" 'Fraid not, Col," said Danny, "Wounds created with love will automatically heal, but Polyjuice won't save you from a death eater attack."
"Then it was a waste of time," said Colin, "I don't make a great discovery and I don't get to make my mark on Danny."
"We can put that right Col," said Dennis who, having slipped behind Danny, crouched down and sank his teeth in Danny's bottom.
"Good idea, Den," said Colin, processing the other cheek.
Then all the lads put their mark on a tittering, yelping Danny.
They pushed two beds together and sat, snuggled up together, replaying the evening's events. The next day—no that day—was Saturday, so it didn't matter that they were too excited to sleep.
They were interrupted by another knock on the door.
"It's OK, lads," said Danny, "We've got nothing to hide."
"You have!" they chorused.
"Oh, bloody hell!" said Danny and dashed to put on his pyjamas.
When he was decent, he went to answer the door. It was Ron Weasley.
"Come in Ron," he said politely, then whispered: "Was that OK? I didn't say the D-word."
"Don't muck about, Danny; this is serious."
"What is it? Come in and get it off your chest."
Ron walked into the dorm and there was an immediate chorus of Where's Harry? —the other boys had forgotten that Ron was a prefect.
"Harry's OK," he said, "He's joining us in the common room. Professor McGonagall's summoned the whole house. There's been an intruder."
"I knew there was!" said Danny, "I've been attacked; look!"
He dropped his pyjama bottoms and bent over under a lamp.
"Merlin's beard!" said Ron, "What spell did that?"
There were unmuffled titters and Ron looked up to see six happy faces.
"It's not funny!" he said sternly, "This could be . . . er . . ."
He had obviously correlated six students with six blemishes on Danny's behind.
"Er . . ." he repeated as ears turned pink.
"Go on, Ron," said Danny, "Make it lucky seven!"
The others joined in: Yes go on . . . It's for Gryffindor . . . be a sport . . . just two seconds and we'll be downstairs . . .
"You're wasting time!" snapped Ron.
"You're wasting time," said Colin, "Do it quick and let's get off!"
"Er . . ." said Ron, then, recognizing the strength of Colin's suggestion, he acted decisively and bending down gave Danny a bite that hurt as much as the other six put together.
"Good shot!" shouted Dennis and the lads were immediately dressing-gowned and ready for Ron to lead them down, hissing on the way: "Don't tell anyone!"
"There's only eight people will ever know, Ron," said Colin and the other boys voiced their assent.
The atmosphere was sombre and apprehensive in the common room so the arrival of seven happy-looking boys caused some surprise. The fact that they were shepherded by an efficient, important-looking Ron was even more surprising. Danny could see people thinking: Ron Weasley—efficient and important-looking!
Ron moved over to join Harry and Hermione. Danny lip-read him saying: I think I managed to put them at ease and nearly burst out laughing at Ron's friends' visible attempts to hide their surprise.
Professor McGonagall addressed them:
"All dorms accounted for now that we've sorted the Creevey Discrepancy?"
The prefects called the OK.
"This evening an intruder was reported in the body of the school. Apart from the Creeveys who have been punished for breaking curfew, has any student been out of the house tonight?"
Silence.
"Has anyone seen anything in the least unusual tonight?"
Silence, apart from a hrumph! from Dennis.
Professor McGonagall looked at a small notebook.
"Does anyone know Dennis Compton?"
Silence, then Nick White, of all people, raised his hand.
"Yes, White?" said Professor McGonagall.
"Please, Miss, my grandfather saw him play against the South Africans once."
"Play what? Against which South Africans?"
"Cricket, Miss; it's a Muggle game played with a bat and ball."
"And what year did your grandfather see him, White?"
"I think it was nineteen fifty-five, Miss."
"It must be a different Dennis Compton. The Dennis Compton we are investigating is . . ." she consulted her notebook, ". . . a powerful wizard, about eighteen years old, tall, reddish-brown hair. Ring any bells?"
Silence.
"Well, if anyone thinks of anything, please let me know. Now prefects: please escort the students back to their dormitories and let us have no more disturbances. Goodnight to you all."
"Goodnight, Miss."
There were no more disturbances that night, although the Creeveys unsuccessfully tried to detour into Danny's dorm for a (literal) debriefing.
Danny's four dorm-mates had an inspection to assess Ron's handiwork. Then goodnights were said with kisses and cuddles even more deeply-felt than usual—fun with Tom was all very well, but it was good to have the real Danny back.
Danny went happily to bed. He just had time to think what a day it had been—lots of good work, lots of good play—when he fell asleep.
— CHAPTER SEVEN —Saturday Night's Alright For . . .On Saturday, Danny had a long lie-in.
When he awoke, the other lads had gone down to breakfast.
He was not alone though: a discreet Hoo-hoo alerted him to the presence of a polite-looking tawny owl.
"Thanks for letting me sleep on," he said, getting up and rummaging for an owl treat.
The letter read:
We the undersigned from HUFFLEPUFF apply formally to D. Jorrocks for membership of his GAY GROUP.
Gideon Buchanan
James Buckley
Leon Wood
Matthew Hinton
"Euai! Euai! and thrice Euai!" he murmured and went down to the Great Hall.
Colin and Dennis were looking full and happy.
Danny waved Hello to his other friends and sat down with the Creeveys to have a private chat. He tapped the table for some breakfast and took a sip of orange juice.
"That was a good laugh last night, wasn't it?" said Colin.
"Brilliant! Snape's face!" said Danny.
"Tell us about your escape, Dan," said Dennis.
Danny obliged and had the lads in fits as he summarised Tom's adventures.
"Never mind me, though," he concluded, "How's your botty?"
"Sore," said Dennis, "I love it: every twinge reminds me of you."
"I'll kiss it better, Den," said Colin.
"Count me in," said Danny.
Dennis suddenly bounced: "Saturday night's your dorm night, Dan. Well, let's make Friday night our night: we do our homework together and we spend all night together!"
Brilliant! from Danny; Sorted! from Colin.
They embarked on an animated discussion of ways and means; how often to invite guests; who the guests might be.
They were interrupted by a jovial Good Morning, boys!
It was Professor Dumbledore.
Amid the chorus of greetings, the Professor said: "I am late this morning so, rather than endure a breakfast in solitary glory, I wonder if you would keep me company while I enjoy my Saturday kedgeree?"
The Creeveys offered assent and Danny said: "If my grandfather's memory is reliable, that makes four naughty boys."
The Professor, having tapped the table for his breakfast, smiled: "Talking of which, Daniel, where did you learn about Dennis Compton?"
The Creeveys, who had been expecting to have to cover up for Danny, gaped.
"Off a funny Muggle television show, sir. It was only when Nick told us last night that I learnt he was a real person," said Danny.
"I understand that you are studying From Ocular to Corporeal by Esmeralda Thorpe?"
"Yes Sir."
"And did you really use Corporeal Impersonation to create Dennis Compton?"
"If only! I've found that chapter way beyond me; I'm afraid it was Polyjuice, Sir."
"Which you brewed yourself?"
"No, I bought it to impersonate the Muggle Tom when I was scaring off Mr Rowle. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to ban it like you banned the Invisibility Cloak."
"Which is still with your parents?"
"Of course, Sir; you told me not to bring it. I trust your judgement, Sir—even your faith in Professor Snape."
"I am glad to hear that, Daniel. Professor Snape is an important part of the fight against the Dark Side."
Colin interrupted: "He wasn't fighting the Dark Side last night: he was trying to catch smokers. Isn't that a waste of his time, Sir? And it's not fair to the students: we weren't doing any harm and Mr Filch can pick up anything really evil."
Professor Dumbledore smiled: "I have heard it said, Colin, that, just as a Muggle soldier learns to obey vital orders given in battle by first obeying pointless orders from his drill-sergeant, so a good wizard starts to become a great wizard by obeying Hogwarts school rules."
"Just like you, Sir," smiled Danny, "or Harry, or his dad—I don't know if anyone told you: my copy of From Ocular to Corporeal belonged to James Potter and has his own annotations."
"Really, Daniel? What edition is it?"
"Does it matter?—Oh, I see—late, sir; with the replaced Chapter Six—Oh!"
Danny looked aghast: he realised now why Professor Dumbledore's team had not killed Voldemort: it might, in some way, push him into immortality."
"Please keep all thoughts on the original Chapter Six to yourself, Daniel."
Professor Dumbledore looked serious.
"Yes, Sir. I haven't forgotten the advice you gave me in Birmingham. Did you hear about my letter to the first-years? I think that isn't harmful."
"I did, Daniel. An excellent project which will bring the houses together."
"That's what Hermione Grainger said."
The Creeveys had been dumbly bemused by the conversation, but Dennis, seeing that Professor Dumbledore was prepared to countenance Danny's pet project, jumped in: "Please, Sir: is there a room where Danny can take his group without being disturbed?"
"I will think about that, Dennis, and let you know, Danny."
"Thank you, Sir," said Danny, "And are you going to tell Professor Snape that I was Dennis Compton?—it might turn him against me when I want to bring the houses together—including his own. And, as you know my Dad's quite sympathetic to all sorts of people and I wouldn't want him to fall out with Professor Snape."
"I merely told Severus that, as it had been confirmed not to be an intruder and, as Harry Potter had been cleared, there were other obvious prime suspects, but no proof would ever be available."
"So the prime suspects will never know that they are powerful wizards!" said Danny, knowing that the twins were being slandered.
"Alas, no, Daniel. Now both our breakfasts are getting cold so I suggest that, while we indulge, Colin and Dennis tell us about their two Muggle friends.
The Creeveys, putting on their usual double-act, told the Headmaster about the progress of Steve (or rather Robert) and Tom.
When Professor Dumbledore had finished eating, he addressed the brothers: "Colin and Dennis: please forget everything that Daniel and I have been talking about. As far as you are concerned, I have just spent twenty minutes warning you not to wander about the school at night. And you, Daniel, I would ask you to try and restrain your friends' wild and dangerous activities."
"Yes, Sir."
The Professor rose to go, but Dennis said to him: "Please Sir, may I ask a question?"
"Of course, Dennis."
"Did any of the other houses know about the real Dennis Compton?"
"I don't believe they did, Dennis. Now I must go. Goodbye, boys."
The Headmaster strode off and the others followed at a more leisurely pace. They parted—Colin to orchestra practice, Dennis to play with his classmates and Danny to find Sea Jay and Jonathan and hang out for a bit.
He wandered across the lawns but failed in his search, though he said hello to a limping Jimmy Millar and a blushing Ian Berry.
He turned back towards the castle and passed the delectable Adam Watts walking with an unknown boy who was quite unprepossessing—awkward, misshapen, ugly, spotty; but to Danny he was just another teenage boy, or (tautologously again), a desirable teenage boy. He hoped that Adam felt the same way: the boy looked as though he could do with some loving: there were little frown- and worry-wrinkles on his face.
He smiled at Adam and smiled at Adam's friend.
"Hi Adam! You OK?" said Danny.
"Hi Danny. Were you with the Creeveys last night?" asked Adam.
"No, it was Dennis Compton."
"Well, if it wasn't you, it must have been Harry. We're not thick in Ravenclaw, you know."
"That's because the discretion lobes of your brains are missing. Now, introduce me to your friend."
"Sorry; Danny this is James Poxon."
The boys shook hands.
"I've seen you in lessons, of course, James. Are you a special friend of Adam?"
"He's my best friend now, thanks to you, Danny," said Adam.
Danny smiled. He guessed that, having seen Adam walk off for a sesh with Danny, James had plucked up courage and made an approach. The boy was blushing between his spots.
"I'm so pleased for you both."
"Fancy going somewhere?" asked Adam.
"Sorry, mate, Saturday's reserved for my dorm-mates. But some time I'll go somewhere with you both."
They said goodbye and Danny walked across the lawn towards the castle. He met Harry and Ron heading for the Quidditch pitch with shouldered broomsticks. The sight of Ron brought a twinge to his love-bite and he rubbed it causing Ron to blush furiously. There was a lot of blushing this morning.
"Harry, you are so hot! Be my number nine!" he said, but Harry stared through him, looking even more troubled than usual.
He thought it was good of Ron to give Harry some practice. Then he remembered that Ron was the new Gryffindor Keeper. Even to Danny, who knew less about Quidditch than he did about combs, it seemed an odd choice.
Still musing about this, he found Sea Jay and Jonathan in the common room and they settled down for a chat about this, that and (lots of) the other.
After lunch, there was to be Quidditch and most of the Gryffindors went down to see the practice.
Danny nipped up to get some study material and strolled down to the pitch.
While marking up corrections to his Englishen-Latin essay and remembering a few constellations by rote, he glanced occasionally at the practice.
Harry looked totally at home on a broom. So, in a different way, did the twins. He didn't look at the girls. Ron seemed to blunder every time the ball came his way.
Some Slytherins, led by Draco, but not, of course, including Adrian, were barracking continuously.
There seemed to be some sort of girl-trouble and the practice ended soon after.
As people were leaving, a big Slytherin barged past Dennis shouting: "Out of my way, shrimp."
Dennis was delighted with Dennis's reply, which left the Slytherin lost for words: "Who are you calling a shrimp? Last night I did a shit on Harry Potter's face and pissed all over Danny Jorrocks."
Danny stayed after the others left, taking out a book and doing some difficult studying.
As he sat in the afternoon sun, concentrating hard on From Ocular to Corporeal he was interrupted by a call: "Jorrocks!"
It was Malfoy.
This was it. He wanted to get in with Malfoy, but not so far in as to become involved in anything nasty. He would so become persona grata to the Slytherins and also get over the message—which he knew would find its way to Voldemort—that his father's "neutrality" was biased towards the Dark Side. This would call for a lot of lying.
"Hello," he said.
"Why did your father want you to greet me?"
Crabbe and Goyle were there.
"He didn't mention anyone else," said Danny.
"You two: off!" barked Malfoy, without even bothering to look at them.
The two louts skulked away.
"Now, answer the question. Why did your father want you to greet me?"
"He's worried about me being in Gryffindor. He doesn't think much of Potter. He admires your father and would like me and you to be friends."
Four lies straight off thought Danny.
Malfoy appeared pleased. "And what do you think of Potter?"
"Could be a good enough wizard, but he's got all the wrong ideas—nobody believes him anyway."
"You were practically sitting on his lap at the feast."
"That was a tease. Haven't you heard of irony? And I enjoy embarrassing him."
Malfoy appeared even more pleased. Then his brow wrinkled. "And what gives you the right to call Slytherin members to a meeting?"
Danny smiled. "Draco, you've—"
"—who said you could call me Draco?"
"We're pure-bloods. When we're alone you should call me Danny and I should call you Draco."
"Maybe, but you're still in Gryffindor so you have no rights with regard to Slytherin."
"It's not a question of rights. It's a question of duties. I'm a gay boy who's been at Hogwarts for two years. I've had no-one to tell me how to behave when you're in that situation and it's my duty to use my experiences to help out the younger students. It's not a house issue at all. That's why I didn't come to you before."
"It's probably against school rules."
"Draco, don't be silly! There are no school rules about sex. They ignore it totally except for having separate dorms."
"Well, if not against school rules, disruptive to wizarding integrity. Pure-bloods can't be gay: they've got to produce pure-blood children"
"You've proved my point about there being a lack of knowledge. I believe being pure-blood means you must marry and get children; but that doesn't stop you being gay. In fact there was an old Arab wizard who said: A woman for breeding, a boy for pleasure.
"There's a public life which is important and a private life which is unimportant. And that applies to Hogwarts: what the houses stand for politically is important, but in personal matters—whether it's collecting Quidditch cards or boys dancing with boys at the Christmas ball—houses are meaningless."
Draco looked away and stared into the far distance. He had a long muse. So long that Danny thought I've said something which is significant to him. Could he be gay himself?
Eventually, Malfoy turned back. "Will your meetings be for pure-bloods only?"
"Good lord, no! Reason One: we must work within the current system: It's not yet wise to openly discriminate against Mudbloods," (this was the first time the word had been formed by the lips of any Jorrocks). Reason Two:" Danny looked round checking for anyone in earshot and lowered his voice, "if things go well—you know what I mean—and Mudbloods are booted out into the Muggle world, the contacts would still be useful. Just because they no longer think of themselves as Masters, doesn't mean to say they can't be useful Servants."
"True enough." said Malfoy, then mused again.
After a while he said: "You say you've been gay for all this time. How is that possible before puberty?"
"I don't know, Draco. But I always preferred looking at boys to looking at girls. There was something attractive about boys' bottoms, and the way boys moved and the way their willies jiggled." He was watching Malfoy's face closely and detected a slight change in expression when he mentioned willies. Malfoy was gay! He was sure! He decided to probe a little.
"I used to fantasise about a penis stiffening and ramming itself into my bum and plunging and pumping into me. Have you never thought of that yourself?"
"Never!" said Malfoy quickly, "Was that what you were doing with these prefects in the toilets?"
"No, I'm a virgin. They just liked getting wanked off. It was commercial, really. You've no idea how many detentions I got out of!"
Malfoy mused some more.
Danny interrupted him: "Look, Draco, you're the most important man in Slytherin and if you say no, then no it is; but I hope you'll let the Slytherins stay. Another Arab wizard said: A great king is a king who knows when to use his power."
Malfoy looked pleased. "Alright; it seems a good idea."
"Thank you. If anyone asks what we were talking about, what shall I say?"
"Tell them my father wants your father's advice on buying some Muggle stocks and shares. We'll talk again," and Malfoy strode off.
Danny was elated. He had achieved his aims of getting to know Malfoy and having his gay plan accepted and found out that Malfoy was gay and lured him into thinking that he and Danny were in a conspiracy together.
He resumed From Ocular to Corporeal.
Dinner was rather subdued at the Gryffindor table: the shambolic Quidditch session under the eyes of the Slytherins, who were still barracking, had lowered everyone's spirits—except Danny's dorm-mates, who were as excited as children—or because they were children, as some unenlightened people might say.
Danny felt sorry for Ron and threw his arms round him saying: "Beginner's nerves, Ronny. You've got terrific talent and you'll just get better and better."
Like a cheerful horoscope read by a non-believer, this assertion, despite having no intellectual basis, cheered everyone up a bit.
Danny was even more cheered when two Ravenclaw boys came up to him.
"Hello, Caerwen," said Danny, "Got another taker?"
"Yeah, this is Tintin Wilkes."
"Hi, Tintin. Glad to have you. I'll be in touch."
"Thanks," said Tintin and managed to get a large amount of effeminacy into the word.
Eight and counting! thought Danny.
In the common room, they started an inter-dorm challenge match.
Danny produced a pack of gay playing cards and his dorm challenged Colin's dorm.
All ten boys played—even the two super-straights.
There were quite a few spectators—most of them girls.
They played Knockout Whist as they were in polite company.
The Gay Pack has thirteen cards: Dung, Fly, Beatle, Minnow, Roach, Kingfisher, Hawk, Cat, Boy, Knave, Knight, Priest, King.
There are eight suits: Toes, Plums, Noses, Oxters, Mouths, Todgers, Hands, Nates.
Stephen was the first to be eliminated.
"Ah well, I'm for an early night," he said, stretching his arms, and went upstairs.
There was some bemusement: it was only ten past seven.
When the next hand resulted in Nicholas departing with the same words, bemusement changed to amusement: something was up.
When Barry was next to go, Stewart said: "Don't get knocked out, Ray: you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
But of course David left next and everyone knew that Danny would contrive to lose the next hand.
"Ah well, I'm for an early night," he said, stretching his arms.
Amidst laughter, he went up to join his friends, who been briefed to keep their clothes on.
Danny engorged and activated his furry dice and they used the dice to select one boy to take the clothes off another boy.
This took some time but, eventually, there stood five naked boys. They all had erections, and events might have come to a crude climax had not the joys of Twister intervened.
Danny magicked up a huge mattress in the middle of the floor.
They had a couple of trial runs and three real games which came to an early end through laughter.
Finally, they had a brilliant game.
Danny had had a tough run, spending most of the game with his mouth touching Nicholas's nose and Stephen's penis. When his own penis had to be in contact with Barry's nose and David's bumhole, he expected an imminent finish, but the dice ignored him and the other four managed some heroic contortions: Barry had Stephen's hand on his ballsack, and Nicholas's on his armpit, but as Stephen tried to get his mouth to Nick's toes, he nudged Barry who couldn't help nudging Stephen's ballsack away from the contorting Nicholas's bumhole.
At this stage each of them should have attempted to obtain what the rules quaintly called an emission, but as only two of them were capable of this, the lads were not averse to Nicholas's counter-proposal: "Listen, lads: me and Baz are virgins, so how about putting that right?"
"Good idea, Nick," said Barry, "Should it be me do you and Danny does me so we're both sure of a squirt?"
"Why not four of us do one of you this week and the other next week?" suggested Danny, and this idea was accepted as brilliant and thoroughly in the spirit of Twister.
"Odds or evens, Nick?" said Danny.
"Odds."
Danny called: "Dice! One!"
A Five came up.
"You're in the hot seat, Nick," said David.
"Throw the dice to set the order, Dan," said Barry.
"No, smallest first," said Nicholas sensibly.
They disentangled themselves and set Nicholas up on the edge of his bed.
Danny, as the acknowledged expert with his four weeks' experience, took on the pleasant task of loosening Nicholas up.
As he ran his hands over Nicholas's bum, he thought how fitting it was that the most beautiful bum in the world should be the host of the dorm's first gang-bang.
He knew that Nicholas hadn't showered for days and was hopeful that his bumhole would comprise a paradise of scents but, as he pressed his nose against the tiny opening, all he could get was the ghost of little-boy sweat.
He substituted his tongue and, after some licking and pressing, felt the hole yielding and the silky touch of the back-passage on his tongue.
He lubricated Nicholas and started on the finger-work, talking the three onlookers through what he was doing—which had the bonus of delaying what was clearly an incipient orgasm.
When he felt that Nicholas was ready, he stood and positioned his willy to strike.
There was a chorus of protests.
"I'm the smallest now, Dan," said Stephen, and Danny saw that indeed he was.
"Sorry lads," he said, "I've been growing."
Stephen approached Nicholas, slipped into him and was soon moving in and out, his ample bumcheeks quivering and his hands stretched out on either side of Nicholas's body to support his substantial weight.
Danny moved to give some close attention to Stephen's bottom, but David beat him to it: he knelt and inserted his face. As Stephen pounded away, David's head bobbed as if he were giving someone a blow-job.
"You dirty bugger, Wardy!" said Barry.
"Bwuff off!" came from a heavily-muffled David.
"Did you hear an echo, Danny?" said Barry.
"If your mouth's free, give us a kiss, you tit."
As Barry bent down to snog with Danny, Stephen started panting. The pants gradually turned to grunts and, at last, Stephen achieved a loud—but presumably still dry—orgasm.
He was out quickly, nearly bowling David over and grinning happily.
"Next boy, mount and up," he said in a splendid imitation of Madam Hooch.
"Probably you, Wardy," said Danny.
He and David compared lengths. They were identical.
"You'd better go first, Danny," said David, "You're obviously keen."
A long gobbet of pre-cum was suspended from Danny who immediately stooped, set his willy at the correct angle and pushed in to Nicholas.
He felt an immediate surge of lust. He looked down and saw his scrawny thighs pressing against Nicholas's tiny buttocks.
He raised his eyes and saw Nicholas lovingly smiling at him.
He could just reach Nicholas's mouth for a kiss.
This was going to be a sprint: he scarcely had time to notice David's tongue exploring his bumhole before: squirt, squirt, squirt: it was a real man's come—like Tom's but better because he was in his own body.
He thanked the stars that had given him his life.
He wanted to lie there forever, soaking his willy inside Nicholas and running his tongue around the boy's mouth, but David nudged him.
"Did you come, Danny?"
"I came gallons."
"Let us in, then."
Danny withdrew his willy and David made a quick entry and was soon, with audible squelchiness, doing Nicholas.
Danny bent to service David's bony bum, but Barry got there first.
"You dirty bugger, Barry," said Stephen, who had sat on the bed to get his breath back.
Barry removed his head, said: "We've all got two years' catching up to do," and, with his tongue leading the way, returned to work on David.
Danny sat on the other side of Nick and stroked from David's head to Barry's head.
David kept going for a long time then subsided with soft little sighs interposed between his laboured breathing.
"Let me at it!" shouted Barry.
"Take it slowly, Baz," said Danny.
Barry did take it slowly, but it proved not in the least necessary as Nicholas's bum-hole, though very tight, was as supple as the rest of his body.
As for the sex act itself, Barry took even less time to come than Danny: a long wait and the taste of David's bumhole must have raised his lust to bursting-point.
As Barry withdrew, he asked Nicholas: "What's it like to be a real man?"
"Can't get my head round it," smiled Nicholas, "OK I suppose; I just need a real man's cock now."
"Does it hurt?"
"Not much; Danny's cum is a good lubricant."
"Good stimulant too. As soon as I touched it, I went off like a rocket."
They returned to Danny's big mattress, sipping Butterbeer which Barry had bought from the twins and talking about Quidditch.
Danny suffered in silence: there had been a big game in the afternoon and there was another that evening. Plenty to talk about.
Barry and David were big fans, having been brought up on Quidditch; Stephen and Nicholas, though, had been Muggle-born but, with the fervour of converts, were now obsessed with the game.
After a while they got back to the big topic and discussed how the various bottoms had appeared as they bounced up and down on Nick.
"I think yours was best, Baz," said David, "A real man's arse."
"Danny's was best," said Stephen, "A real boy's arse."
"Yeah, Danny's was best and the seven little love-marks set it off a treat," said Barry.
"Oh give us a look, Danny," said Nick, and Danny had to lie down bottom-up for a close inspection.
"Ron Weasley went as far as he could go without drawing blood," said David.
"Yeah, he must be an expert," said Danny, "I wonder if he trained on Harry Potter's bottom."
"He's quite sexy, Ron Weasley, even though he's not a looker," said Nicholas, "I wouldn't say no, anyway."
"Nor me," said David, "We should've made more use of him when we had him here last night."
"Yeah, he's a real sexpot," said Stephen.
"I think they're all sexy in that dorm," said David.
Danny made a rueful face: "Yeah, it makes me mad to think of the number of times I could have been mucking around with them over the last two years."
"Well, no-one's ever said any of them are gay," said Nicholas, "and they've none of them been known to muck around with anybody."
"I think Dean Thomas might fancy you, Danny," said David, "He's always looking at you."
"Yeah, Danny, you should ask him to meet you somewhere," said Stephen.
"You wouldn't get him without Seamus," said David.
"I could handle that," said Danny.
Barry suddenly burst out: "Lads, lads! Why worry about imaginary cock when the real thing is here. I don't want to wait until next week and I see you're up for it NOW!"
It was true that all the chat about sex had stiffened them up and Barry was bundled into a bottom-up position on his bed.
In slow succession Nicholas, Stephen, Danny and David had their way with Barry while permutating whose tongue or finger was up the bum of the bummer.
The highlight for Barry was the orgasm that came mid-way through Stephen's performance. There was only one little squirt, but it went a long way and Danny was in like a trapdoor spider, licking it off Barry's neck.
The four active partners were flushed by the end of proceedings and, after relaxing with some more Butterbeer, they were ready for bed.
Danny magicked a huge duvet and the five boys snuggled together underneath.
Danny expected five-in-a-bed to lead to greater complexities than his four-in-a-bed night, but his dorm-mates had less drive than the highly-sexed Piers and the highly-sexed Creeveys so it was a calmer night, though with plenty of rolling about and flesh pressing against flesh.
It had been a wonderful evening.
Danny fell asleep with one arm around Nicholas and the spare hand cradling Nicholas's tiny genitalia.
— CHAPTER EIGHT —A ConspiracyOn Sunday morning Danny woke up with aches all over. Someone had been lying on top of him during the night. He was currently lying on Stephen's left shoulder with his hand on the back of the boy who was lying on Stephen's right shoulder. He had a little guessing-game, but it was too small for Baz, too big for Nick.
He shifted himself and moved his hand down to squeeze David's bumcheek.
David stirred, opened his eyes and moved to reciprocate.
"Morning, Danny."
"Morning, David."
David's finger found its way into Danny's bumhole. Danny felt a glow of pride as he realised that this was probably another first for David.
The other lads were stirring. Eyes were rubbed, testicles scratched, arms stretched and good mornings spoken.
Slowly they got up and dressed.
Thirteen-year-old boys are not the most conscientious of washers, but on Sunday mornings, as there was no rush, Danny and his friends usually showered, to a background of mild homosexual ribaldry.
This morning, though, none of them bothered.
Danny wondered if the other four were like him and didn't want to wash off the physical fug from five different sources which hung around their bodies—perhaps making concrete the psychic aura of togetherness; or perhaps it was the seductive smell of bacon: they hadn't eaten for fifteen hours, after all.
Down in the noisy Great Hall Danny and his dorm-mates were as keen to review the fun as the Creeveys were to learn all about it, but it was not the sort of night that one would wish to talk about with girls around.
Danny saw that Jonathan was hunched in a vain attempt to conceal an enormous love-bite on his neck. He guessed that this one hadn't come from Ron Weasley and he guessed that Jonathan and Sea Jay had made a night of it as well. They both looked bleary-eyed and Danny's expert eye told him that they were probably holding hands under the table between taking mouthfuls of breakfast.
He called over to Jonathan:
I dare ya
To bare ya
Are-ya.
I'll scare ya
It's Bulgar-ya
Malar-ya.
The lovers laughed: only the other night, they had discussed the etymology of the word bugger with Danny.
Some configuration shift at the Slytherin table caught his eye: Malfoy had risen and was marching in Danny's direction.
He snapped "Jorrocks" as he handed over a scroll which looked as pompous as its contents turned out to be:
Jorrocks
Sunday Slytherin have given permission for the following first years to attend your educational sessions:
Hudson, Brian
Passaro, Nathan
Signed D. Malfoy
Danny smiled: two wasn't bad from any house, but Slytherin's participation was especially welcome as they would be able to assure themselves that there was no political agenda, so lessening the chance of Danny's other projects being suspected.
He wondered if the two boys were volunteers or conscripts; in either case, he was sure that they had been instructed to report back to the Slytherin Seniors.
He nodded to Malfoy, making it look like an obeisance, and resumed eating while trying desperately to avoid even a quick peep at Adrian, who was talking to a big Slytherin girl.
Ten: half of the first-year boys. Danny was delighted. Now he would have think hard about what he was going to say and how the thing was going to work. Perhaps this was vitally important; but perhaps the mere act of bringing these ten boys together in the limelight of public awareness was enough.
Danny had a quiet morning: leaving his dorm-mates to entertain the Creevey brothers with details of the glorious Saturday night.
He collected some work from the dormitory and stopped off for a pee on the way to the library.
He was lucky enough to find a urinal next to Jimmy Peakes, a chunky and lively Gryffindor second-year.
Unashamedly craning his head around the big partition, he saw an unusually brown willy—short but fatter than usual for a twelve-year-old.
"Classy, Jimmy," he said, "I think that might turn out to be a whopper."
Jimmy laughed: "I hope so Danny and I'll always give you a look—but no more."
"Don't try and predict Nature or Fate."
"I disagree and I'm predicting scores of sexy witches chasing Jimmy Peakes, the sex-idol Quidditch star."
"Good luck to you on that one."
"Thanks, Danny. See yer."
Stewart Ackerley, a shy Ravenclaw second-year, had crept in on the other side.
There were free positions further down, but Danny had no illusions that Stewart was making a sexual advance: a known Danny was safer than an unknown monster who might turn up any minute.
As Danny craned again, the boy turned away.
"Come on Stewart: I only want to look."
The boy turned and Danny saw a peach of a willy that was as white as Jimmy's was brown. How could two wizards of the same race and complexion have such different coloured willies?
Danny tentatively explained it to himself: perhaps Jimmy had bigger and more frequent erections so that his skin had become stretched.
However, Stewart had a lot of foreskin which, from shyness, laziness or anatomy, he didn't retract with the result that his pee went all over the place.
"That's a top-notch willy, Stewart, and everyone says you've got a top-notch brain too. Thanks for the show. See yer."
Danny sat in the library for two whole hours, totally engrossed in his studies.
There was only one interruption: Madam Pince's voice could be heard expostulating: Really . . . This is insufferable . . . Why have a library at all? . . .
Then the woman herself stomped over to Danny's desk and, in her most acidulous tone and with her most pursed lip-formation, she handed over a scroll.
"Special owl for Jorrocks. I hope that this is just a one-off abuse of the library."
"Yes, Miss."
He opened the scroll and recognised Professor Dumbledore's handwriting:
At the suggestion of Professor Snape and Mr Filch Classroom 3E is now Out-of-bounds to students except for formal lessons.
Vanish This
Danny obeyed the instruction but remembered its phrasing.
At lunch the Creeveys were bubbling with excitement at the third-years' Saturday night.
"That was a great idea of Nick's, wasn't it Danny?" said Dennis.
"Yeah."
"Me and Col think we ought to do that sort of thing."
"You know, if it's someone's birthday, everyone lines up for him," said Colin.
"And you can have it that they all bum him or he sucks them all off," said Dennis.
"Or you can have Musical Sucks where everyone takes turns at sucking him until the music stops and the winner is the one who gets a mouthful."
"Or a sort of untwisty Twister where every one kisses a different part of his body and after a time they move on."
"But three of the positions wouldn't be kissing: he'd have two fingers and a willy somewhere else."
"Or Blind Boner and Blind Bumhole where he's blindfolded and has to guess whose bits belong to whom, using only his tongue, or nose, or both."
"Or Sideways Lockstep, or Tiddly-wanks, or Soggy Biscuit, or Limp Labour, or—"
"I don't like Soggy Biscuit," interrupted Danny, "It'd be over too quickly, Col."
"Not Soggy Biscuit Relay where each boy eats the previous biscuit while creating the next one."
"Brilliant, Col," said Dennis, "Anyway, there's enough to see us through the rest of school."
"Don't plan your life away, Den," said Danny, "Next Friday night's far enough ahead."
"And even that's not important," said Colin, "Like you said, Danny, ninety percent of the joy is being together like now and nine point nine something is when you have a kiss and cuddle and the rest is nearly all from plain sex so special games are just a teeny bit extra."
"I understand percentages," said Dennis, but these little dots are just weird. I don't believe they really exist: Professor Darrington probably invented them."
Colin and Dennis embarked on a discussion about the meaning of decimal points and Danny looked over at the Slytherin table.
He had formed an earlier impression that something was up and became sure of it now: five of the Slytherin seniors had their heads together and were muttering seriously to each other.
After lunch, Danny refused the Creeveys' invitation to play Wizard Bowls, which some of the other Gryffindor juniors were setting up on the lawn. He gave as his excuse the need to do some thinking while walking off his morning's lack of exercise.
What he was actually doing was monitoring the Slytherin seniors, who were hanging around the front door looking as though they intended to go outside when their colleagues, presumably off to the loo, reappeared.
This proved to be the case and they wandered off towards the lake.
I wish they'd jump in! thought Danny.
There were six seniors—four boys and two girls—and Malfoy.
What was Malfoy doing there without Crabbe and Goyle?
Of course: since Malfoy ran Slytherin by virtue of his father being a very important death eater, this must be a management meeting—perhaps to run a special project like the mystery project that needed Adrian to be able to Disillusion.
If that were the case, though, Adrian would surely be there, so it must be something else.
Danny desperately wanted to hear. He was currently wandering in the middle of the lawn, pretending to read a scroll.
He changed direction and Disillusioned by the side of the greenhouses.
He hurried back and approached the Slytherins as near as he dared.
This was not very near as there were some early autumn leaves about and Danny knew from Esmeralda Thorpe's book that, although the Disillusionment Charm would conceal direct noises, the rustling of displaced leaves would tell a skilled witch or wizard that something abnormal was occurring.
His expectation that Malfoy would be in charge of the meeting was wrong—in fact Malfoy seemed to be receiving a reprimand.
Feelings seemed high and voices were raised, which helped Danny to hear what was going on.
A big brute of a lad was haranguing Malfoy: "Listen, Draco: it's got to be done, it's got to be done there and it's got to be you."
"I don't see it at all," said Malfoy in a whiney voice, "There are so many other ways."
"Bloody hell, Draco!" said another big lad who Danny recognized as the Slytherin Head Boy, Graham Montague, "We've been through this before. It's all about the past: there's a historical motive. There'll be no nasty evidence from the Hogwarts infrastructure. And once it's done, no more worries; it's all history. End of story."
"It's not! There are lots of others."
"Bollocks and you know it! Four years you've been at it."
An authoritative girl butted in: "It's actually a hell of an honour for you, Draco. And for your father, who's got some making up to do if these rumours about an important diary are true."
"Besides," said the big lad, "He knows about it so there's no question of it not being you, so shut your gob and accept it."
"Yeah, listen to Campbell; that's the bottom line," said Montague.
Malfoy was silent for a moment then said quaveringly: "Well, it's got to be quick—straight on, straight off."
There was some unpleasant-sounding laughter.
"Are you joking?" said Campbell, "Do you really think we'd be allowed to spoil the broom for a Knut's-worth of twigs? We'd all be . . ."
He broke off and everyone laughed again.
Malfoy looked miserable and scared, thought Danny.
"Well, there must be something I can take," he said.
They all laughed again and Danny thought of the German word schadenfreude—pleasure from someone else's pain.
Campbell, who was clearly the leader, called them to order: "This is wasting time. We can't be seen in conference too often. "We're not here to discuss if, or who, or where, or when; we've got to agree how. And the first thing I have to tell you is that Erno's all arranged."
There were murmurs of pleasure.
"He asked for a few noisy people to be barging around," continued Campbell, "And that'll be us."
"We can be in house colours and singing about our Quidditch team," said Montague.
"Good idea," said Campbell, "He'll do his biz and we go to a suitable spot where we meet Malfoy and an experienced wizard or witch, whose identity I am not able to divulge, then Erno restores the status quo and Merlin's our uncle."
Brilliant!" said another big lad who Danny recognized as Adrian's room-mate Warrington, "No witnesses; no evidence; and, after today, no pushing it under the carpet."
"Correct," said Campbell, "Anyone got any other thoughts?"
"It won't work," said Malfoy, "Dumbledore's still Headmaster."
There were howls of derision—so loud that a group of Ravenclaw third-years sailing boats on the lake looked over curiously.
"Quiet!" said Campbell, "Split up now. Any thoughts: see me. And Malfoy: I suggest you try and appear normal: grab your mates and throw your weight round."
The group split up, Malfoy heading towards the castle, and Danny, his head spinning, set off for the greenhouses to remove the Disillusionment Charm.
He couldn't work it out: he had expected a conspiracy against Harry Potter or Professor Dumbledore, but they seemed to be aiming something at Draco Malfoy—something that he was desperately trying to avoid.
He replayed the Slytherins' words but could make nothing of them.
His body was tired after the night's somewhat imperfect sleep and his brain was tired after the morning's work.
He needed to wind down and joined the Wizard Bowls players.
After tea he picked up Adam Watts as he walked from the Ravenclaw table.
"Could you spare a minute, Adam?"
"Willing and eager. Do you want James too?"
"No, this is about something else."
He turned to James Poxon: "Sorry, James; I just need to talk to Adam about an administrative matter, "Won't be long."
James smiled stoically and Danny led Adam to a bench at the foot of the owlery.
"Adam," he began, "you know I'm fighting for more acceptance of gays?"
"Yeah, and I'm with you, of course."
"And you know that I've started a gay discussion group for first years?"
"I couldn't miss it! Our little Caerwen's been talking about it to anyone who'll listen."
"Well, Adam you're gay and you're bright and I wonder if you'd like to be my reserve?"
"Honoured and delighted. When's the next meeting?"
"I said reserve, not assistant. I need someone prepared to step in if I have to miss a meeting or have to leave Hogwarts."
Adam looked shocked:
"You're not going to leave, Danny?"
"No, but my dad works all over the world and he might want to relocate his family some time.
"How it would work is: I'll hold the first few meetings and maybe introduce you into the fourth or fifth—I don't want to overwhelm them at the beginning.
"In the meantime, I'll keep you informed of everything that's going on."
"Sounds great."
"One more duty of the Reserve: to take part in the planning and vet what I'm going to say."
"Will do, though I'm sure you can manage on your own."
"Now: the first thing to show you is where we are going to have our meetings. I've got the password to a locked classroom and that's about the only thing that we must keep secret—not the password so much as the fact that we've got it."
"Word of honour."
Danny led Adam to Classroom 3E.
The door was locked.
He called Vanish This!
Still locked.
He tapped the door with his wand and called Vanish This!
He could open the door.
Instead of going in, he closed the door to check the spell re-applied itself.
He got Adam to let them in.
"Plenty of room; not overlooked; perfect."
"Presumably these sessions won't involve practicals?" said Adam.
"Good Lord, no. Apart from anything else, some of the boys are sure to be straight."
"But it would be ideal for sex on other occasions, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, but that would be a breach of security."
"Not if it only involved the two people who knew the password."
"Bloody hell, Adam, I'm slow today, come here."
The boys locked into a kiss and cuddle which quickly turned to an undignified fumble as they struggled to remove each other's clothes.
Naked, they resumed their clinch and Adam backed Danny against a desk.
"Same again, Danny?" he asked.
"We can do better than that," said Danny and magicked a mattress onto the floor.
"Wow!" said Adam, and "Wow!" again as Danny lay on his back with his bum in the air.
Adam lay down, pushed himself into Danny and commenced a hard, ramming motion.
Danny cuddled Adam tightly and scarcely had time to feel the physical pleasure within his loins and the mental pleasure of being deeply wanted when Adam let rip with his, now-familiar, cry: DANEEEEEEEE!
The boy's motion dwindled until a last push into Danny's bum squeezed the last drop of semen out.
"Ooh, suck us off, Adam," pleaded Danny, desperately horny and desperately longing to see those pretty lips wrapped round his willy.
"Do people really do that?" asked Adam, looking surprised.
"Sorry, Adam, I didn't think; just wank me please."
"No . . . I'll . . . mmm . . ."
Adam had slipped his willy out of Danny, stooped and wrapped his lips around Danny's willy, which started pounding immediately.
"I'm coming!" gasped Danny to give Adam a chance to withdraw if he didn't want cum in his mouth.
But Adam inexpertly, but valiantly, continued sucking and was rewarded with a gush of cum at the back of his throat.
Coughing, spluttering, retching and spitting, Adam sat down on the mattress to recover.
When the boy was in control of his throat muscles again, Danny said: "I'm really sorry, Adam; I thought you'd probably done it before."
"It's all new to me, Danny; my entire sex-life has been with you.
"What about Poxon, I mean James?"
"No sex except for a kiss, but not like your kiss today: just lips; not tongues. We were both too embarrassed to actually do anything."
"I am surprised that you haven't had a sex-life: you're a beautiful, sexy, post-pubescent boy. I'd've thought they'd've been queuing up to get at you."
"Ravenclaw's not like that. We don't talk much about sex and both James and I didn't know what gay really meant until these boys danced together at the Yule Ball and people started joking about cocksuckers and bum-boys.
"Then we realised we were gay but kept it to ourselves because of all the jokes.
"At first I felt a sense of wonder. There'd been a sort of sword of Damocles over me all my life: I knew I'd one day have girlfriends and get married and I hated the idea. Then: boys dancing with boys. I knew that was the path of my life.
"But later my wonder turned to anger, which I probably showed you on Tuesday.
"And then, this year, we were sharing classes again and everyone said you were really experienced at sex, so I brazenly threw myself at you with great success."
"What about James?" asked Danny.
"He was even more buttoned-up then me, and then he saw me go off with you. It turns out he's head-over-heels in love with both of us."
"Bless him, he's got good taste," laughed Danny.
"Hang about; he's also head-over-heels in love with Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas and our entire fourth- and fifth-years."
The boys laughed.
"So, anyway," continued Adam, "he saw us go off, realised I was gay and talked to me on Thursday. We made a date to go for a walk on Saturday. "It was wonderful: like the first time you go up on a broomstick."
Danny nodded, though the first time he had gone up on a broomstick, he had vomited and fallen off.
"We sat on a tree trunk in that spinney by the picnic area and held hands and talked about everything. We were so pleased to find each other and cross because we could have been friends three years ago—well we were friends, but we could have been special friends—not heavy sex, but boyfriends. That's why what you're doing with the first-years is so good. You'll change lives, trust me. James and I are three years behind, but suddenly, after the Yule Ball and your antics, we're best friends for life."
"I'm two years behind, myself, Adam; I had a bit of fun with the seniors, but I've learned no end of stuff in the last five weeks; I'll advise you and join in with you as much as you want, but I think you'll enjoy it best if you take things slowly."
"What about when people talk? They're not talking yet, but they will if we go on hanging about together. There's a difference between a quick bit of fun with Danny Jorrocks and having a boyfriend."
"That's up to you. Whatever you decide, there's support now—and later, perhaps, our first-year group could lead the way and we could have another group for the rest of the school."
"I'll help you with that group too."
"Thanks Adam. I should mention that Love has tremendous power and, when you've got real gay friends, you're doing things, not just for yourself, but for other people too. You're motivated to do your schoolwork better and you can cope with crises like Umbridge and Voldemort better."
Adam winced, but smiled: "I should say that James is not in love with Harry Potter: he thinks he's a show-off."
"He'll learn—I hope not in the hard way."
"I'm not sure about You-know-who myself."
"That's because the Ministry is a lies-factory and they've sent their head liar to Hogwarts."
"I sort of believe you, but it all seems so far-fetched."
"So far-fetched that the Ministry is terrified even of thinking that it might be true, even though they must at least suspect. Hence the smear-campaign against Harry."
"You've nearly convinced me, but the next revelation in the Prophet will probably nearly convince me the other way."
"Just carry on dithering then and enjoy a loving friendship with James."
"And you."
"And me—you can have what my dad calls a non-exclusive licence to my body and soul."
They were dressed by now and, after cleaning up and vanishing the mattress (Adam was a good Charmsman, Danny noted) slunk into the corridor.
Mrs Norris was sitting outside the door and ran away, turning into another corridor.
"Uh-uh!" said Adam, "She's off to report to Filch."
"That's Toadface's corridor," said Adam, "I think she's gone to see the old cow. We'd better scoot."
And scoot they did.
The common room that evening was as uproarious as it had been on the first night back. At the time, everyone thought that it was because of the end of the weekend and the end of summer, but, looking back, it seemed to some to be a last day of celebration before troubled times arrived.
Danny joined in the fun, but went to bed early with his curtains closed.
He had a lot of thinking to do.
Why should senior Slytherins want to attack Malfoy? What made Malfoy special? Was it perhaps punishment because of his father's incident with an important diary? But, then, would they have called it an honour?
His brain whirled.
Was it perhaps about sex? He suspected Malfoy was gay and he knew from Adrian that gayness was not appreciated in Slytherin. Had Malfoy Senior ordered a gay cure for his son? Perhaps to please Voldemort.
And was the cure illegal? They had mentioned witnesses and evidence, so a crime was involved; but then they had talked about no sweeping under the carpet. How could you want to suppress evidence of a crime and not sweep it under the carpet?
But suppose the crime was Malfoy's? Sex-crime? Given Slytherin culture as described by Adrian, raping little boys would not seem to Malfoy to be immoral; but perhaps he had broken a taboo and raped a Slytherin boy? Malfoy was not the only Slytherin with a powerful father. Suppose this father was pressing charges: Malfoy Senior would try to sweep it under the carpet with bribes and threats but, with the evidence suppressed, this would no longer be necessary.
He was interrupted as his four dorm-mates parted his curtains and gave him four goodnight pecks—this was the agreed procedure if one of their number had gone to bed early.
Composing his thoughts again, he gave thought to the rôle of Erno. Suppose he were one of those Clavatofistulator Wizards who had so thrived in mediæval Germany. He would be able to abstract the victim without using traceable spells; then take him to the suitable spot where the experienced wizard or witch would . . . what? An Unbreakable Oath causing the boy to die if he gave evidence? A very deep Obliviation? An Imperius? A Brokered Treaty? But none of these would frighten Malfoy and only the first would require his physical presence.
And then they had said . . . but he was asleep.
— CHAPTER NINE —The High InquisitorDanny awoke on Monday morning with the Slytherin conspiracy still whirling around inside his head.
The whirling receded as he became aware of the need to masturbate and the need to eat.
Danny was as highly-sexed a thirteen-year-old as any in Hogwarts, but there was an enticing smell of bacon in the air and, in less than two minutes, he was toothpasted, dressed and haring down to the Great Hall. Masturbation, soap and combs did not feature in the cast-list.
He was expecting a quiet start to the week, but the arrival of the owls bearing the Prophet sent ripples of excitement through the hall.
Little groups of students clustered to read over the shoulders of subscribers.
Danny read the news over Cormac McLaggen's shoulder and felt poleaxed: not only had the Ministry crassly boasted of planting Umbridge on them, but they had given her such powers as nobody except the headmaster of the day had ever had at Hogwarts.
They were trying to take over the school—and they looked like succeeding.
He was in a bit of a dream while they walked down to Professor Grubbly-Plank's class, but he woke up as the lesson continued.
It was another good lesson. She was a good teacher, even if you sometimes missed the element of wild risk-taking that featured in many of Professor Hagrid's lessons.
Going to Mrs Englishen-Latin's class, his spirits received a massive uplift: Adam Watts and James Poxon, may their names be ever blessed, walked hand-in-hand down the corridor and into the classroom. They rearranged the seating so that they could sit together and took out their books.
They looked calm but Danny guessed that their hearts were racing.
The Ravenclaw students treated the pair with exaggerated politeness as though to say: We Ravenclaws are not just clever; we're tolerant, innovative and not fazed by anything.
Danny was delighted. When Adam had left him, he and James must have discussed the matter, come to their brave decision and informed the Ravenclaws of the situation.
There was some tittering from the Gryffindor girls and Stewart Appiah commented: "We don't need to see that!"
What little tension there was was defused by Ray Kelly shouting: "Danny, if you're going to do that, you'll need an Octopus Charm!"
The Ravenclaw couple behaved with complete decorum and left the lesson having re-linked hands.
Sea Jay called after them: "Ravenclaw gold; Gryffindor Silver," and joined hands with Jonny Neil.
"Come on, Dan!" said Colin.
"No, Colin; not without Dennis."
"Yeah, you're right; and it wouldn't be the same anyway, us being brothers. But Danny, aren't they brave?"
"Bless 'em, yes!"
Danny and Colin followed the two pairs of lovers to Transfiguration.
Professor McGonagall showed no reaction to the unusual sight and conducted the lesson with her usual precision.
Both pairs behaved themselves. This was unusual for Sea Jay and Jonny who were usually touching each other up discreetly and whispering obscene endearments.
At the end of the lesson, Professor McGonagall announced: "Excellent work: most of you succeeded and those who failed managed to achieve a little improvement. Five points to Gryffindor and five points to Ravenclaw."
There was a buzz which continued long after they had left the room.
Had the strict, unemotional Professor McGonagall really been praising their work, or had she been showing her approval for gay romance?
After lunch, Danny had a free period while the rest of the class enjoyed double Muggle studies.
He took some books and walked about the grounds reading and memorising. He was so rapt that he was late for History of Magic and decided to forego the lesson altogether.
The common room that evening was unusually quiet, but muttered conversations went on throughout the evening. Word was that Umbridge meant business with her inspections and even the first-years realised that something significant was happening.
Danny went to bed depressed after late Astronomy but fell asleep in a more cheerful mood as he rejoiced in the Adam/James and Sea Jay/Jonny affairs.
Tuesday's lessons started badly: a and b were harmless little letters, living quiet lives and minding their own business, but Professor Darrington insisted on squaring and subtracting them. Why the professor should be so elated at subsequently pinning them inside cruel brackets was beyond Danny.
Professor McGonagall's lesson was even worse: as though intent on showing that her previous demonstration of good will had been a one-off, she was at her sternest and most unforgiving.
Then Danny got into trouble during the games lesson: Madam Hooch caught him out: "Jorrocks! Do you think a teacher of my experience cannot detect a Springheel Charm. Give me your wand and run ten times around the pitch. And if you slack, it'll be ten times again."
Danny set off on his punishment and tried to make his mind a blank. The Slytherin conspiracy came into his mind, though, and after a few laps he had a moment of enlightenment: Cruciatus! Of course, that was it! They were going to punish Draco with a Cruciatus—nothing less could cause such panic in Malfoy.
He mentally filled in the details: the experienced wizard or witch would be there so that a really strong curse could be applied; the rape victim would be there to witness the curse—or even perform it with coaching from the expert—it was called Restorative Justice.
And it all fitted in: Malfoy was frightened. He had tried to limit the pain: Well, it's got to be quick—straight on, straight off and Well, there must be something I can take.
The deed would be done in private: No witnesses; no evidence; and the injured party and his father satisfied: pushing it under the carpet would not be necessary.
Wait a minute: the phrase had actually been: after today, no pushing it under the carpet.
What did after today refer to? Was it just a reference to the meeting or did they know about Umbridge's new powers?
Yes, of course the Slytherins would know about Umbridge: the decision must have been made days or week's ago, even though it had only been announced in that morning's paper.
And—why hadn't he thought of this before?—Erno and the mystery wizard or witch would have to be smuggled into Hogwarts. And, despite Malfoy's desperate plea: It won't work. Dumbledore's still Headmaster, Danny knew that, with Umbridge on the team, it could easily be done.
He set off around the pitch again, vowing to himself that he would save Malfoy: no-one, whatever they had done, deserved Cruciatus; and he didn't want the other Slytherins to have the pleasure of seeing awful pain inflicted.
He completed the circuit and heard:
"Jorrocks! Stop! That's twelve laps."
"I thought I'd do some extra laps so I could cash them in when I needed to."
Madam Hooch roared with laughter: "That's not the way it works. Now go and join the Remedial Medicine Ball set."
As Danny threw the heavy ball about, he congratulated himself on some fine analysis.
He was still a bit down because his work had not led him into the mysteries of The Fifth of October and You-know-where.
He had better see Adrian Pucey as soon as possible and get back to work on these two important problems.
Saving Malfoy could wait: he would surely know when Cruciatus-day arrived by the colour of Malfoy's face at the breakfast table—if he could keep his breakfast down.
And he looked forward to getting two Dark wizards nabbed.
After lunch there was a sort of misère race towards History of Magic: news of the two pairs of boyfriends had spread and everybody wanted to walk behind Sea Jay and Jonathan who themselves walked very slowly as they would have preferred to lose themselves in a crowd—not from embarrassment but because they didn't want to be seen to be making a public statement: the fact that they were holding hands was insignificant.
Of course, it was significant: the whole school was buzzing with the news that boys had started holding hands. The appointment of Umbridge and the news that the teachers were to be inspected was of lesser interest.
It was rumoured that boys holding hands would be expelled; that some boys were getting Muggle sex-change operations; that Snape was concocting a straightening potion; that Filch had got Umbridge to decree that students walk hand-in-hand so that they had less chance to do magic in the corridors.
There was an air of expectancy in the classroom. Would Sea Jay and Jonathan make love during the lesson? Would Derek and Danny vanish to the loo halfway through the lesson and come back flushed and happy?
It turned out to be disappointing: the lovers had behaved impeccably and Danny had shaken his head at Derek as they were walking in.
Snape's lesson, too, was a disappointment for those hoping for fireworks: if anything, he was even more unnoticing than Professor McGonagall, though he must have seen that Sea Jay and Jonathan were on their best behaviour and trying hard.
The evening was a quiet one. Students had tended to let their homework slip during the first week and Danny worked hard in the library for an hour returning to Gryffindor.
Harry Potter was in detention with Umbridge and his friends were sitting in the common room doing their homework together—though Ron was spending more time looking at Hermione's parchment than writing on his own.
Danny sat down by them.
"Got a mo, prefects?" he asked.
"Off course, Danny," said Hermione, and Ron looked pleased to be reminded of his status.
"It's about what we talked about before—you know, subversives and all that," said Danny.
"I've been thinking about that too," said Hermione.
"Then you've no doubt come to the same conclusion as me: after today, the subversives are likely to make their move and set up their own program."
"But how?"
"Who's got a proven track-record?"
"The teachers?"
"Who else do we know who's got a proven track-record?"
"Proven? . . . Oh!"
"Professor McGonagall once told me I've got an old head on young shoulders. I'm not the only one in this house, including those sadly missing at present and, talking of heads, Ron, it's a shame you can't see yourself because your hair in this light makes you look like the great Godric himself. Are the Weasleys descended from him?"
"Not that I know of, Jorrocks."
"You'd better resume calling me Danny or I'll resume calling you You-know-what."
"What's that," asked Hermione.
"Nothing," said Ron, "Sorry Danny; I may not have Godric's blood, but I'm afraid I've got Pompous Percy's blood."
"He has fallen by the wayside," said Danny, "but he'll sort himself out given time."
Ron snorted: "Not in the foreseeable future; you should have seen the letter he sent me."
"Warning you off Harry no doubt. Perhaps you're like me: all this friendship and admiration is taking the pee and you're a secret supporter of the Ministry."
"Ron's father has to walk an easier fine line than your father," said Hermione.
"You are a clever girl, Hermione. I've said it since the day I met you and I can pay you no greater compliment than to say I wish you were a boy."
Ron snorted again.
"And you're not only gonna be a great Quidditch player, Ron Weasley, but you're gonna wake up one day and find you're clever too."
"That's what I think," said Hermione timidly.
"I'll leave you in peace now, but just one more thing: can you please keep your mouths shut about what I'm going to say."
The other two nodded.
He dropped his voice to a whisper: "Have either of you heard of someone called Erno?"
They shook their heads.
"Well, it would be very useful to us all, including absent friends, if we could find out, but it would be disastrous if we were caught trying to find out, so Erno's name must never cross your lips."
They gave their promises and Danny went to the owlery: he gave Tickles scrolls to Euan Abercrombie, Caerwen Morgan, Gideon Buchanan and Brian Hudson inviting them to come to the third floor classroom corridor on Thursday. He named their participating housemates and asked that the message be passed on and that they approached the corridor in dribs and drabs.
Back in Gryffindor he spent a few minutes helping Colin and the others with their homework then went to bed early again.
At midnight his wizard alarm woke him.
He put on his dressing gown and went downstairs.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were seated by the fire talking quietly. For some reason Harry was bathing his hand in a bowl of liquid.
Danny approached and listened to the conversation.
Hermione was suggesting that Harry teach the students DADA. After an emotive discussion, they went to bed, Harry having agreed to consider the matter.
Harry looked absolutely stressed out and Danny's heart went out to him.
He passed through the portrait hole and reached the Slytherin dungeon without mishap.
All was quite and, within half a minute, he had entered Adrian's room, removed one charm, invoked another, taken off his pyjamas and slipped into Adrian's bed.
Adrian was warm and smelly. He was lying on his back breathing very gently.
Danny unbuttoned the boy's pyjamas and sucked gently on each nipple in turn.
He undid the pyjama chord and closed his hand around Adrian's willy. Even in its flaccid state, it was a monster: thick, long and dense.
He reached for his wand, created some light and magicked Adrian's pyjamas into a (fairly) neat pile by the bed.
He lay on top of Adrian and licked his top lip, then the bottom lip, then round and round, finally stretching out his tongue to find Adrian's.
This finally woke Adrian up.
"Danny . . . oh Danny . . . is it time for breakfast?"
"It's half past midnight and your Danny loves you."
Adrian became fully awake. He drew Danny's head back down and kissed him fiercely, squeezing his buttocks with his free hand.
Then he turned away from the kiss and said: "Oh, Danny, I haven't washed."
"I know; it's wonderful."
He buried his nose in Adrian's right armpit and breathed the strong, sharp fragrance of freshly-decomposed sweat.
"Danny, whatyer doing? That's dirty."
"I know; it's wonderful," said Danny again and moved over to the other armpit.
How strange that something so revolting in the average human being became so enchanting with someone you fancied.
The penis under Danny's hand was slowly engorging and Danny wiggled down the bed to have a smell.
There was a new sort of clean, fresh smell which Danny, by now quite experienced and able to extrapolate, diagnosed as coming from an unwashed, but unwanked, willy—not a boy's willy, but a real man's willy, fully developed and at the peak of its powers.
He gripped the shaft. By now it was iron-hard and staggeringly thick.
He licked the glans. It took him some time to lick it all over and, as Adrian groaned with pleasure, he took the whole of it into his mouth, gave it some sucking then got to work again with his tongue.
He couldn't give it the full Seamus treatment: it was simply too big. Danny could hardly believe that this monster had been up his bumhole.
Adrian was groaning continuously now. His hand stroked Danny's head with a touch that was gentle and loving but the to-and-fro jerks of his pelvis seemed wild and dangerous.
Danny's head was being tossed about, but he gripped the shaft of the monster to help steady himself.
He started wanking the shaft hard and Adrian's groans and writhing intensified as he shot a huge dollop of cum into Danny's mouth.
Danny's diagnosis of a state of wanklessness was confirmed as Adrian pumped spurt after spurt into him. To stop himself choking he had to abandon any attempt at swallowing and torrents of cum poured from each side of his mouth.
As Adrian dried up, Danny slurped up what he could and moved to position the tip of his willy in Adrian's armpit.
He started masturbating and his willy seemed tiny after Adrian's, but he felt that it had grown, even since the start of term, and that it was still growing quickly.
His cum was developing too and, as he experienced a tingling orgasm, he shot out a big blob followed by two smaller blobs. He had a long way to go if he were to catch up with Dean and Adrian, but it could definitely be described as a man-sized come.
He looked down at the white patches in Adrian's thick hair and marvelled at the miracle of life: this stickiness had recently been bacon and eggs, steak and kidney pudding, pancakes. Pleasure going in, pleasure going out, he thought with amusement.
He lay back on top of Adrian and kissed him tenderly.
Adrian whispered: "I didn't believe people really did that. Is it just you or do other people do it?"
"I think most gays do it. All the boys I've been with at Hogwarts do it and the older ones had done it before they met me. And isn't it a perfect expression of Love and Friendship?"
"I love you Danny, and I'm proud to be your friend. You're the one positive thing in my miserable life."
"If it's got even one positive, your life shouldn't be miserable."
"It's like being at the bottom of a well and being able to see the sun."
"Light up a cig and tell me about it."
Adrian lit up and leant against the headboard, puffing away and cradling Danny in his arms.
Danny felt at peace and wiggled luxuriously: "Adrian, this is totally wonderful. We're in our own wonderful world. Outside there's all the bitterness and hatred that Voldemort can conjure up but here we've made our own heaven. I'm so glad to have found you. Your last year here is going to be a year of happiness."
Adrian had tensed when Danny used the V-word. He tensed again when Danny spoke of happiness: "Oh, Danny, if you only knew."
"Tell me then, and I'll give you my own perspective and we'll work out a way forward."
Adrian paused, then said: "Just between us Danny?"
"Just between us, dearest Adrian."
"Well, it's like you said . . ." Adrian struggled to bring out the words, "my parents are death eaters."
"And you think it's a stupid and evil ideology?"
"Yes, Danny, and I think they probably think so too, but they're too far in. They follow the Dark Lord out of fear more than anything else."
"He's such a nasty bit of work that I suspect most of his followers are like that."
"No, Danny, definitely not. There are some who are just evil and some who are fanatics."
"There's no chance of your parents moving to the opposition?"
"No chance: they know they'd be killed."
"My dad could get them out the country."
"No, they'd be too scared. Besides, there's an element of greed: if I can do him a favour, they think they will be safe and get more power and status."
"You, Adrian? A farm boy and a schoolboy?"
"It's the schoolboy that matters. There are Secrets in Slytherin. Secrets that could help the Dark Lord. But he can't get at them."
"But Adrian . . . how can you do what Voldemort can't?"
"The secrets are concealed in an Ancient Magic created by Salazar before he left. The secrets are kept by the SSK's—Slytherin Secret Keepers. There is one SSK in each school year. At the start of the year the five SSK's elect a first-year to join then. He is ritually inducted and the spells prevent him talking about the secrets to any but the other SSK's. On his seventeenth birthday, all his knowledge is irretrievably deleted from his body and soul."
"So irretrievably that even Voldemort can't get to them?"
"Yeah, not even . . . V-Voldemort."
"And do the rest of the Slytherins know about the SSK's?"
"They scared to talk about it but they know that every year one of the first-years becomes someone special—someone who's not to be crossed."
"And let me guess: someone not to be befriended either. And let me guess: that's why you haven't any friends?"
"You've got it Danny. When I was eleven I expected to be happy here, but I was happy in a different way than I expected: I was friends with the other SSK's but the rest of the house held me in awe."
"They might have anyway, Adrian: you're a bit of a loner with a lot of your life going on in your head, and I think that might always have been your character."
"You're probably right, Danny. It's interesting that the SSK's tend to be un-Slytherinlike—Zabini's an exception: he's a bit cruel and enjoys manipulating people—Mind Games the Muggles call it."
"Who are the others?"
"Claude Miles in sixth year . . . Blaize Zabini . . . Gonzalo Harper . . . Christopher Winter . . . Malcolm Baddock . . . Brian Hudson."
"They're certainly not high-profile within the school."
Danny didn't mention that Brian Hudson had joined his gay group, but the psychic link that exists between people who genuinely love each other caused Adrian to pick up the vibe: "It's like your gay group: their meetings are known to take place but attendance is exclusive and agenda secret."
Danny smiled and said: "It's a silly question, but it must be asked: do you have any memories of SSK stuff?"
Adrian chuckled: "It is a silly question and I've been doing an equally silly thing since my seventeenth birthday: ransacking my memory—even though I know that it's been deleted even from my deepest levels of subconscious."
"So why does your father think you can still get at them?"
"He knows that my memory's gone, but he read a book suggesting that the spell's memory of me remains, so, by Disillusioning myself, it might be possible for the SSK's to tell me or for me to listen in to them."
"And can you Disillusion."
"No, and I've tried no end and my father's made my life hell trying to get me to do it. I don't really want to do it but if it gets the Dark Lord off my father's back, I suppose I must. But some part of my mind knows it's wrong and that's why I've failed—I think."
"It's good news that you've failed—for you and your parents—helping Voldemort is bad in itself but, if it gets anyone promotion, they're at greater risk from his petulant temper. My advice is to carry on as you are."
"I can't, Danny; Dad's arranged special tuition from Professor Snape."
"I wonder if he knows why you have to learn Disillusionment."
"We all wonder about Professor Snape."
"Anyway, you probably know that, if he's really trying to help you, he'll treat you like dirt."
"Yeah, that's something else to look forward to."
"Adrian, you're seventeen. You can concentrate on your N.E.W.T.s and give Snape passive resistance."
"I'll try, but it's still depressing."
"Ah!" said Danny, in a very bad Austrian accent, "Dr Fraud would say that you haf a neurosis due to suppressing your Slytherin side."
Danny gave up on the Austrian: "Let your Slytherin side out by being very cruel to a little boy's tight bumhole."
Danny turned and kissed Adrian.
After suitable spells, he positioned Adrian's willy—steely again—against his bumhole and started to sit down.
It took a lot of nudging and a lot of time before he got the tip inside himself. It hurt like hell, but he finally let himself sit down so that Adrian was penetrating him deeply.
"Let yourself go, Adrian!" he called out, "Give that little arse a proper shagging!"
Adrian complied: his powerful Quidditch-player's body produced repeated hard thrusts into Danny, each forward thrust propelling Danny six inches higher.
Danny found himself adjusting his crouch by flexing his knees as Adrian lowered himself. This way there could be genuine cock-to-anus friction rather than mere Danny-bouncing.
The pain was subsiding more slowly than the last time but suddenly it was gone and a delicious watery sensation spread through Danny's whole abdomen.
It felt so good: he loved Adrian so much and wanted so much to take away the strain from his life—albeit by giving him his current strained face which itself was belied by his grunts of pleasure and occasional murmurs of Oh, Danny!
There were erotic odours too: a pungent, fresh, sharpness from Adrian's body; the nutty, autumnal scent of a penetrated bumhole; there was even a tantalising hint of Adrian's feet.
By adjusting his height and body-angle Danny found that he could direct Adrian's pressure more directly onto Danny's buggers' trigger.
The result was spectacular: Danny was near to coming and stayed in this state for ages.
At last he exploded: he had half a dozen cum-strokes, but didn't know how much cum he'd actually produced because his eyes were focused on Adrian's face: the beautiful eyes were closed as Adrian experienced his own ecstatic pre-orgasm moments.
Danny changed his own movements away from the pure up-and-down and added a backward-forward component. By some instinct, he felt that this would enhance Adrian's orgasm.
He was not wrong: Adrian, shouting his now familiar and welcome Oh, Danny! Oh, Danny! Oh, Danny! put enough extra power into his thrusts to induce some more pangs inside Danny.
Adrian gradually stopped moving, opened his eyes and smiled at Danny—the smile of a totally happy boy.
Danny leant forward and, without losing the wondrous connection, kissed Adrian with a lot of passion.
Their tongues pressed together parting periodically as the two boys panted.
After an eternity of joy, Danny shifted himself to lie flat and stretched-out, with his head on Adrian's shoulder.
"Is your life still miserable?" asked Danny.
"No. Balls to . . . balls to . . . Voldemort!" said Adrian, and the two boys laughed happily.
"That's the spirit!" said Danny, "I'm ready to sleep now."
"Same here."
Danny used his pyjama-bottoms to mop up the mess that had been deposited on Adrian's pubic area when Danny had broken the connection.
They settled into a comfortable position for the night—for the first part of the night, anyway.
"Goodnight dearest Adrian."
"Goodnight dearest Danny."
"Goodnight Gary."
Warrington, five yards away, was still sleeping.
Six o'clock came and Danny, with a kiss on the forehead of the sleeping Adrian, stole out of the room, Disillusioned and ran down the corridors to the Gryffindor entry, despite the ache in his rear.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia," he told the Fat Lady as he removed the Disillusionment.
"Too many nights on the tiles reduces a little boy's smiles," she replied, as her portrait swung open.
Danny headed up the stairs but not to his own dormitory: he had had another idea and scammed his way into Colin's dormitory, but not to Colin's bed.
He looked at the other four beds. He could detect a faintly abnormal aura from one of them and suspected that Juvenile Charms had been used there.
He peeped through the curtains.
Yes! He had been right: Sea Jay and Jonny were lying naked in each other's arms, fast asleep and looking like two ten-year-olds.
He stripped and climbed in from the bottom.
He reached the area of the boys' midriffs, located Jonny's willy and wrapped is mouth around it.
There was a familiar taste: Jonny had been naughty again with Sea Jay's botty.
Danny hand moved and found Sea Jay's willy. As Danny wrapped his hands around it, and sucked Jonny a little more, Sea Jay's willy hardened and Jonny stirred in his sleep.
Within a minute, Danny had two very hard willies to deal with.
Jonny's sleep became shallow and he murmured: "Oh, Tina . . . darling . . . we must do our essays."
Danny smiled and used his fingernails to nip Jonny's ballsack.
Jonny jerked: "Wha' . . . Oh, Danny!"
His call awakened Sea Jay: "Danny! Good morning to you. Please feel free."
Danny stretched and kissed his friends good morning and said, in a posh voice: "Sea Jay . . . Jonny: the thing is: my rear-end has been severely expanded by a monster belonging to a boy who shall be nameless and, in this luscious condition is ready to receive the attentions of Sea Jay, preferably prefaced by a performance by Jonny."
The boys laughed but, even as he laughed, Jonathan leapt up, had Danny on his back and, in a trice, was merrily rogering him at high speed.
Sea Jay and Jonny were snogging amidst Jonny's bouncing, but Sea Jay was alert and, no sooner had Jonny come to a shuddering stop, than Sea Jay had replaced him.
Jonny's willy, being long and fairly thin, had not caused Danny much grief. Sea Jay's, though, hurt when going in, and even more as each downward stroke pressed the fat base into Danny's ringpiece.
When Sea Jay had finished, the three friends, in a tangled squeeze, dozed for half an hour until Danny heard movements from the direction of Colin's bed.
He poked his head through Sea Jay's curtains and saw Colin stepping into his slippers.
"Psst! Wanna be number four of the night?"
Colin was willing to be number four. After he had achieved this status, he asked: "If I was number four, who was number one?"
"He's not telling," said Sea Jay, "but he's let slip that it was someone with a monster."
"Secrets of the ingressional," said Jonathan, punning on the comic practices of Dr Fraud and Father Priest, popular subjects within Muggle Studies.
"Transgressional, more like," said Sea Jay.
"Not transgressional any more," said Colin, "it's officially normal now, thanks to Adam and James and you two."
The lads got into their pyjamas and dressing gowns, pulled back the curtains and chatted together with complete propriety.
The buzz helped Ray and Stewart to surface. As before, they greeted Danny without surprise and joined in the gossipy chat—mainly about Umbridge, the subject of public affection between boys being avoided by tacit consent.
When it was time to shift, Danny got a good look at Stewart's willy as he went to have a shower. It was not exactly a bitter disappointment, as Alice's rhyme had it, but it was to be hoped that it had some growing to do.
"We don't need to see that!" he called out.
"I know; I know; I was out of order," said Stewart, "Ray told me I missed an opportunity to follow the Sorting Hat by supporting students in another house."
"Yeah, he's right; see yer Stewart."
Danny had to walk very stiffly as he went to his dorm. People called it limping, but that was just shorthand for moving in a way that avoided distortion of the ringpiece. He wondered if experienced gays could spot people who'd recently had a good seeing-to. His dorm-mates would surely notice that he was walking as Dennis had the other night.
Dittany was the star of the show that morning and, again, masturbation, soap and combs were not featured.
In the common room, he found Hermione: "Morning, gorgeous. What was Harry using to bathe his hand last night?"
"How did you know he—"
"I came down the stairs but went back up when I saw you were in deep discussions."
"It was actually a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles."
"Of course. And what had happened to Harry?"
"He doesn't want to talk about it."
"OK—oh look; here comes your other half."
"He's not—I mean—don't say that."
Hermione was flustered, but this would not have been noticed by a bleary-eyed Ron Weasley.
"Mornin'," he said, "Harry said not to wait."
The three of them went to the Great Hall.
Umbridge was going in at the same time and, out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw her looking sharply at him.
Umbridge was anti-Harry and was probably wondering whether she should be anti-Danny on the basis that my enemy's friend is my enemy, as the old Chinese wizards used to say.
Danny was undecided about how to play Umbridge. For the moment he would continue to be polite and generally to behave as if she were a real teacher.
After a dull morning (though Danny enjoyed Ancient Runes) lessons came alive after lunch: Double Potions found Snape at his most spiteful—even picking on Danny and Ray.
The class was relieved when Snape released them five minutes early, but his motive became clear when he hissed: "Jorrocks, a word."
"Yes, Sir," said Danny at his politest. He had been expecting this.
"Jorrocks," began Snape, with a look of the utmost malice, "There was an incident on Friday night when an unknown resident of Hogwarts caused a serious security alert. The Headmaster suggested it might be the Weasley twins, but there was magic towards which these dunderheads could never aspire. Given the spell-signature of this wizard, I later decided that the unknown resident was you."
Snape paused, but Danny said nothing.
Snape continued: "I took my suspicions to the Headmaster who told me that he had spoken to you and considered the matter closed."
"Thank you, Sir. May I go now, please?"
"You may not go. The Headmaster told me that you questioned my actions. He even seemed to find it reasonable that you should do so. I have to tell you that many students over the years have questioned my actions and they have all—all, Jorrocks—had cause to regret it."
Snape paused again and Danny remained silent. He was not going to reveal that it was Colin who had dared to criticise Snape.
"Have you anything to say."
"I understand, Sir."
"Is that all?"
"Oh—you expect an apology—I am sorry I spoke Sir. Thoughts are free, but Speech has a price. Who said that? And I will apologise to the Headmaster as well, when next I see him."
"Very well, Jorrocks; you may go."
"Sir."
Danny walked to Umbridge's class thinking that this incident wasn't just about Snape's Amour Propre: the earlier Snape would have treated a student's whinge, received at second-hand, with contempt; the present-day Snape was at a peak of stress. Danny thought of Adrian's words: We all wonder about Professor Snape.
— CHAPTER TEN —The First MeetingOn Thursday morning, Danny woke up without the horn: his mind was too full of other matters to allow much of a sex-drive.
Top priority, of course, was that evening's session with the first-years.
He spent a quarter of an hour considering how to play things: he had some points to make, but didn't want the session to be simply didactic.
Eventually he decided to let the other boys lead the way through open discussion, into which he would inject his points.
At breakfast, he was subject to some ribaldry combined with curiosity: news that Danny had had an encounter with a monster had spread.
The girls generally thought that a real monster was involved, but Lavender Brown seemed almost frantic in her eagerness for Danny to drop a hint—so frantic that Danny guessed that she knew the nature of the beast and wanted to meet it as soon as possible.
As they left for first lesson, Danny muttered to Lavender: "who said it was a student?"
Let Lavender and her alien, female sexuality brood on that, he thought with amusement.
He had a free period after break and used it to organise his thoughts onto paper:
1. 5th of October
Leave it to Dumbledore but monitor.
2. You-know-where
Presumably this is Adrian's project. How can I get at Slytherin's Secrets? Advantage: The SSK spell is Ancient Magic created when many modern spells and potions unavailable.
3. Passwords
Need a way to get into any house even when passwords change.
4. Protect Malfoy
Remember to check every day.
5. Decode Snape
Double agent? Triple Agent? An infinity of mirrors.
He was nervous through excitement all day. Arithmancy seemed to last for at least an hour more than its allotted forty-five minutes.
At last he was able to bolt his dinner and dash up to Classroom 3E.
He expected to have to set the room up, but he opened the door to fifteen chairs set in a precise semicircle with precise spacing.
All he had to do, then, was wait for the first-years to arrive. He stood at the head of the students' staircase to make sure nobody got lost.
The first to arrive were, as might be expected from his own house. He had asked the first-years to arrive in dribs and drabs, but nervous people like to be in a herd and Euan Abercrombie and Peter Jones were leading a gang of boys as though they were all zebras who'd got a whiff of Lion.
They were right to be a bit nervous: Umbridge's office was only around two corners.
Danny looked more closely at the gang and saw that they were all Gryffindors: every first-year was there.
He was elated: straight boys were interested and this implied substantial reduction of future prejudice.
Thirteen out of twenty.
Life was good.
"I hope you don't mind, Danny," said Euan, "Everyone wanted to come."
"It's good to see you all! Let's hope the other houses have done the same."
It turned out that Hufflepuff added one boy to give them a full house like Gryffindor. Ravenclaw and Slytherin remained at two each.
Fourteen plus Danny was fifteen. He wondered if Dumbledore had used a psychic hint to set up the room, or if fifteen was a common number and the room's arrangement was just a coincidence.
He marshalled the boys into the chairs, welcomed them and invited them to introduce themselves, starting deliberately with the provenly voluble Caerwen:
Caerwen Morgan, Ravenclaw. I didn't know what gay really meant until earlier this year. Then some boys explained it to me and I realised that was why I'd felt different all my life. I know I'll always be gay. And now I know that I'm not alone and we can all help each other. And that's what we're here for, isn't it?
Euan Abercrombie, Gryffindor. I don't think I'll ever be gay, but, after your speech, Danny, I wanted to support you and all the gay boys.
Gideon Buchanan, Hufflepuff. I'm gay and I've known I was gay for a year. I've never made any secret of it, but I've never flaunted it. Now I'm gonna flaunt it like billy-o.
Brian, Hudson, Slytherin. I'm gay . . . er . . . can't really think of anything else to say.
Paul Smith, Gryffindor. I'm like Euan. I'm gonna stick up for gays.
James Buckley, Hufflepuff. I think I'll be straight, but I want to have fun at school and it's helping other people too.
Tintin Wilkes, Ravenclaw. I've always been different—you know—playing with the girls, dressing up in their clothes and make-up, having dolls. I've always wished I was a girl myself and could have boyfriends. I think I might be gay.
There was some tittering at this.
Nathan Passaro, Slytherin. I'm gay, so when Malfoy told us it was OK, I came.
Peter Jones, Gryffindor. Gay. Always have been. Always will be.
Lee Shepherd, Hufflepuff. I had my first gay experience with an older boy two years ago; then with a man; then with two more older boys. I really enjoy gay sex but I've always felt dirty and ashamed afterwards. I thought it would always be my guilty secret, but after two weeks in Hufflepuff where it's no big deal, and after the other four boys joined up, I suddenly felt like I'd got out of prison.
James Carter, Gryffindor. Supporting you gay boys, but I'll be getting a girlfriend as soon as poss.
Matthew Hinton, Hufflepuff. Like James: basically straight but looking for fun before I get into girls.
There was more tittering: into girls—get it?
Alexander Bell, Gryffindor. I'm like Lee: a secret gay, but I'm not experienced like him, worse luck. I've always hoped for an older boyfriend to protect me and kiss me when no-one was looking. Then, like Lee, when the other four in Gryffindor said they were going to join, I saw that I could actually talk about it and I can't tell you how good it feels.
Leon Wood, Hufflepuff. I feel embarrassed. I've sometimes been a bully and I've sometimes bullied gays, but never again: I'll make it up to the gays.
Free Will and Destiny: how much of human intellectual life has been concerned with the relationship between the two; and how far from providing enlightenment.
Yet would it be silly to say that, on that evening, when Danny Jorrocks saw Brian Hudson he knew that they were destined to be together for life?
Certainly, Danny always remembered it that way in later years. He stripped off false memories of love—or lust—at first sight, but could not remove a memory of an immediate spiritual oneness—a oneness that underpinned all the great romances of his life: Ray and Trinity; Ron and Hermione; his mum and dad to name the most prominent three.
As for Brian, his memory of seeing Danny was surely to be trusted: he had thought: I wonder what he looks like in the nude.
Danny would have been chuffed to read that thought at the time. As it was, his conscious mind just took in an attractive boy, and the shallowest stage of his unconsciousness bookmarked Brian for some future dealings.
Whatever his initial feelings about Brian, Danny had no time to analyse them at present.
He addressed the meeting:
"Now we know who we are, let's talk about any immediate concerns . . . anyone?"
There was silence for a few seconds then the sultry beauty Gideon Buchanan raised his hand.
Danny smiled: "We're not in class and I'm not a teacher, Gideon. Anyone can speak at any time."
"Yeah, man; I was thinking what's this group for? They were saying last year there was a dance and loadsa boys were dancing together. Right?"
Danny nodded.
"And now boys are allowed to go around holding each other's hands. Isn't it all in the open now? Don't get me wrong, Danny: I'm sure that things were tougher in your day and fair play to you for battling for us gays, but this is nineteen ninety-five and things have moved on, so what's the purpose of the group?
Danny suppressed a grin: to Gideon he was a dinosaur—a survivor from an age that was so remote as to be mythical.
"Do we actually need a purpose?" he said.
Peter Jones, a sandy-haired imp, spoke up: "I owled Dad to ask his permission to join, and he said we should have a Mission Statement, an Operational Methodology, Performance Indicators, Correctional Strategies and Paradigm Reviews."
Danny found out later that Peter's father was a Muggle who held a Very Important position in a hospital.
"And Gideon questions whether we genuinely have a mission that needs a Mission Statement," he said, "Anyone got any views?"
Three lads started speaking at once. Alexander Bell, a fair-haired, long-faced boy won: "Gideon's wrong—so wrong—just because boys can hold hands—and they're brave boys and they've got friends and they're probably good at Quidditch, but I just feel lost and I thought this meeting would help and if it stops I don't know what I'll do."
"There was a Bedlam of voices: We're the two Gryffindor gays and . . . from Peter Jones; Loosen up, man! from Matthew Hinton, a blond, thick-set, muscled boy; I never said . . . from Gideon Buchanan; You've got straight friends . . . from James Carter, a dark boy, the tallest boy at the meeting; and a few other voices that Danny couldn't make out.
When Danny could get a word in, he spoke to James Carter: "James, you've said the most important thing. Please say it again."
"I was telling Alexander that he's got friends—straight friends and gay friends and that's got nothing to do with meetings: friends are twenty-four seven."
"Isn't that the important thing?" said Danny "I know this meeting's because some boys are interested in Gay Sex and other boys think the first lot of boys deserve a fair deal, but, to begin with, shouldn't we recognise that Friendship is the basis of all worthwhile dealings between human beings.
"For example, there are fifteen boys in this room. Are we all friends?"
There was a resounding chorus of affirmatives.
Leon Wood, a boy of medium height, but maximum fatness, raised his hand and said: "There's friends and friends aren't there? I mean some friends you just want to wave hello to and others you want to spend lots of time with—"
"And some you want to shag the arse off!" interposed the ebullient Gideon Buchanan.
They all laughed wildly.
"It's a fair point though," said Leon, "How close a friend can I be to someone I know wants to shag my arse off?"
"The answer is: very close indeed," said Danny, "If he's a true friend, he'll understand and accept that that's the way you feel and Sex is not on the menu."
"And boys can love each other without Sex being on the menu, can't they?" said Peter Jones.
"Of course they can!" said Danny.
He was going to amplify when Euan Abercrombie supported his friend Peter: "Yeah, and hold hands and even kiss each other, and that doesn't mean they're going to have sex together."
"But people think it does," said Caerwen Morgan, "so they'd end up getting ridiculed and bullied just as much as if they were gay."
"That's just convention," said James Buckley, a dark, sparkly-eyed boy.
"And that's just what's changing, 'cos of the hand-holders and we're going to change it more, aren't we Danny?" said Caerwen.
"I hope so," said Danny, "I take it you think it's worthwhile us meeting, Caerwen?"
"Yeah, I never meant to suggest anything else."
"Danny, dear," said the effeminate Tintin Wilkes, "We started by telling each other about ourselves. What about you? You're really experienced, they say; you must have a lot to tell us."
Everyone seemed to agree.
"Well, first of all, I should say that everyone's different," began Danny. "There are fifteen in this room and each of us develops physically and mentally in a different way, so you mustn't take my experiences as a . . . as a . . ."
"As a template," said James.
"As a blueprint," said Lee Shepherd, and Danny noticed his devastating green eyes for the first time.
"As a precedent," said Peter Jones.
"Yeah, all these," laughed Danny. "I've been very, very lucky: firstly in realising that I was totally and forever gay when I was eight years old."
"You were lucky," said Caerwen, "I thought gay was just a schoolkid insult until last year."
"Then, when I was sure," continued Danny, "I told my mum and dad and they were happy about it.
"Then I found out that I could get a thrill by rubbing my willy. Not all boys get that thrill and they have to wait until they get hair.
"Then I came to Hogwarts. I'd never been to school before and I thought I'd arrived in Heaven: so many beautiful boys—specially the bigger boys—fifth-years and above.
"But it was more like Limbo than Heaven: friendships between boys with a four or five year age-difference were inconceivable. Even apart from the Sex aspect, the older boy would be looked on as immature and the younger boy as a weed who needed protection.
"And the Sex aspect was mad: if they did anything at all, the older boy would be thought of as a child-molester—he'd probably think of himself that way—and the younger boy as dirty and defiled. And it wouldn't be that way at all: I wanted some harmless fun and, as far as I was concerned, that wouldn't be in the least bit dirty; and it would be me doing the molesting, if anyone.
"So it looked as though I'd have to wait until I grew up, but I enjoyed talking to the older boys in the common room and I was able to guess the boys who were hot for me, and one Saturday afternoon, when we were in the common room where no-one could see, I groped my favourite sixth-year. He nearly jumped through the roof.
"When he'd calmed down, I invited him to come for a pee with me and steered him into a cubicle in the loo."
There was a frisson.
"That's not very romantic!" said James Carter.
"Believe me, James," saidLee Shepherd, "you go where you can. I've had to do it myself."
"Quite right, Lee, and I think it was romantic," said Danny, "and the sex-play was good, even though the main feature was just me wanking him off—does everyone know what wanking is?"
There were a number of headshakes and mumbled no's, so Danny gave a long and detailed explanation.
"Give us a demonstration, Danny," Gideon called out.
"Definitely not!" laughed Danny, "That must be our Number One Rule: no practicals at our meetings: otherwise people would say they were just orgies or that I was trying to convert straight boys to gay.
Danny paused as an image came into his mind: with all this talk about sex, he was pretty sure that there were fifteen erections in the room and he visualised the delightful orgy that might have taken place.
"Anyway," he continued, "there I was in my second term and I'd got my hands on someone else's willy at last and it was good fun and we did it quite often.
"Of course, people saw us going in and out of lavvy cubicles together, but, once they were sure that I was utterly willing, they took a view which is typical of wizardkind: they're doing whatever they're doing in private, they're not harming anyone and they're not offending anyone, so live and let live.
"For any of you thinking of doing this sort of thing in Muggle land, there is one rule: don't! Muggle police will be arresting you in no time.
"Some of the boys who'd seen what was going on were, I'm glad to say, inspired to find a partner and go in for it themselves. Others, I'm even gladder to say, invited me to do it with them. Most of these were from Hufflepuff, a house which has an advanced attitude to Sex."
The five Hufflepuffs cheered.
"It was a Hufflepuff boy who first sucked my willy."
"There was more than a frisson at this: a couple of ughs and a that's revolting.
"Did someone say Revolting?" asked Danny, "This is the first real test of our group: it's easy to be all liberal about gays walking down the street or sitting having a pumpkin juice together, but to be open-minded about a practice you find revolting is more difficult—even though you're not being asked to do it, or even watch it. It's quite simply a matter of taste—"
He was interrupted by a roar of laughter which, in some of the boys, went some way into hysteria. Taboos were being broken and the boys' emotions expanded to fill the newly-available space.
Looking back, Danny realised that this was the moment when the group cohered; from now on there was a one for all; all for one spirit in their hearts.
When things had quietened down, Danny, with tears of laughter in his eyes, continued: "Sorry, chaps. Unfortunate phrasing. What I want to say is that some people will go from cradle to grave without indulging; some will let themself be sucked but won't suck other men; some prefer to do the sucking; but for most gay men oral sex—either way— is wonderful.
"And I've got bad news for you straight boys: I'm not an expert, but I believe that much of your courting career will be spent trying to persuade your girlfriends to take your willy into your mouth—quite often without success.
"To continue the story of my sex-life: I enjoyed being sucked but didn't fancy doing the sucking myself. I regret it now, but I spent more than four terms never having had a willy in my mouth.
"Then, earlier this year I was able to come: initially a clear fluid and then that milky fluid I told you about.
"Since then, I've blossomed out into all sorts of sex with all sorts of boys, but again I emphasise that everyone's different: some of you will put it about like me and others will find a boyfriend and stick with him.
"For myself, all my sex-partners have been friends and, moreover, I love all of them, but have a very special and deep love for four boys in particular."
"Are the Creeveys two of them?" asked James Carter.
"No names, James," said Danny, laughingly adding: "It's not a starter, Carter."
"You have been lucky, Danny," said Lee Shepherd, "I've never really loved anyone I've had sex with, and the people I've fallen in love with, I could never ask for sex."
"I'm sure that'll change, Lee," said Danny, "You've grown up thinking of Sex as something dirty, so of course you haven't been able to link it with Love. Now you can begin to change your mind and live a happier life."
"Me too, Danny," said Alexander Bell, smiling and wriggling with sheer happiness."
"So now you know about my sex-life," said Danny "but let me say once more: everyone's different and you've all got to find your own way to happiness; and, while you're finding your way, there are fourteen other people who'll be willing and eager to support you."
"Brilliant, Danny," said Gideon Buchanan, "Now can you please tell us about Bumming?"
"Not today, Gideon, we don't want to go into brain-overload. Let's call it a day and go into practicalities like the next meeting. First of all, does everyone want to go on coming to these meetings?"
There was an affirmative roar.
"Anyone doesn't want to come?"
Silence.
"Same day and time and place next week? . . . Good! Now, does anyone want it kept secret that they come to these meetings? . . . Good! These meetings are not secret, but in the current political climate groups of fifteen people wandering about together is a thing to avoid, so please leave in twos and threes and the same next week. See you next Thursday."
For some reason, two boys tittered at this last remark.
"Oh, one more thing: everyone should know that Slytherin has an anti-gay tradition, but I'm glad to say that they're prepared to change and we all owe Malfoy a debt of gratitude for allowing Nathan and Brian to attend."
A few faces became mask-like. That was the current political climate . . .
The lads started to leave and the amazingly beautiful and self-confident Gideon Buchanan approached. He had the look of a boy who was eager for something.
Bloody hell! He's going to proposition me thought Danny, but Gideon merely passed aver a note:
Mr Derek Rath, Mr Jimmy Millar and Mr Ian Berry request the pleasure of the company of Mr Danny Jorrocks for post-meeting refreshment.
Danny smiled "That's nice. Let's go."
They walked through the corridor in silence for some time before Gideon said: "Danny?"
Bloody hell! He really is going to proposition me thought Danny, but just said: "Yes, Gideon?"
"I was wondering . . . when we get to Hufflepuff . . . may I join in?"
"Sorry, no mate."
"Or even just watch?"
"No. I told you I wasn't a teacher, but I've got to behave like one and teachers can't have pets."
"One day, perhaps?"
"Yes, Gideon, one day."
In Hufflepuff, Danny found his three hosts sitting on a sofa.
They rose to greet him and Derek said: "Go well?"
"It was good, but three quarters of an hour talking about sex has driven me to bursting point, so your invite was really welcome."
"I've got the dorm booked but there's a complication."
"I can do without complications. I'm all wound up and horny. I need to relax."
"It's not that sort of complication: basically, tonight it's Danny's Choice. Look."
Danny looked around and saw about a dozen boys holding their hands up.
"Danny's choice is you three," he laughed.
Five minutes later, Danny was banging Derek while Jimmy was banging Ian. Danny and Jimmy were managing to snog and fondle each other's buttocks.
Five minutes after that, the four boys were sitting around a coffee-table enjoying four mugs of coffee—part of Hufflepuff's prized friendliness-package was the best coffee in Hogwarts.
They had a wonderful chat, during which Danny learned that Hufflepuff was a bit miffed at Ravenclaw's grabbing the hand-holding gold, but had decided against immediate flooding of the field on the grounds that a ban was less likely if things were taken slowly.
He also learned that, contrary to rumour, no-one had yet been able to drive a bus up Jimmy's rectum—not a double-decker, anyway—and that Jimmy would not be applying as House Tart because Ian wanted him, if not to himself, at least something less than open to all.
After a delightful half-hour, Danny departed after experiencing three warm kiss-and-cuddles in the open common room.
In Gryffindor, Danny sat with his friends while reading about Corporeal Impersonation.
At nine o'clock, they went to bed.
Danny kissed his friends and lay his head on the pillow.
Another wonderful day.
— CHAPTER ELEVEN —Seven Busy DaysDanny had a free period on Friday afternoon and sat alone in the library. Colin didn't mind—he accepted Danny's frequent need for deep thought and that evening was Danny's Creevey-Night, anyway.
Danny wanted to give some more consideration to the Slytherin conspiracy.
He had decided that Draco's punishment was planned to take place outside Hogwarts because there would be no nasty evidence from the Hogwarts infrastructure. And evidence had, indeed, to be avoided: the Cruciatus could send its perpetrator to Azkaban for many years—nominally for life.
He thought that it was still likely that Erno was a Clavatofistulator, but his task was to abstract, not a victim as he had previously thought, but an avenger—the boy whom Draco had raped.
Erno would be required to remove the boy from the Hogwarts grounds or, if he was now a third-year or above, from his friends on a Hogsmeade day.
Danny felt a stir of disquiet at a possible new link with the fifth of October. There seemed to be a lot of possible things happening in Hogsmeade that day: a danger to Harry; Professor Dumbledore protecting Harry; Malfoy's punishment; Danny protecting Malfoy and watching out for Harry. And all against a background of those ruddy meteors.
Other thoughts came into his mind: there couldn't be just a single victim: Four years you've been at it Montague had said. And if there were other victims spread over four years, there were other perpetrators: Malfoy had protested: There are lots of others.
But Malfoy had been selected to be the one who had to endure punishment. And the fact that it was deemed to be a hell of an honour surely meant that Voldemort wanted the punishment; and Voldemort's desire was surely not based on the moralities of rape, but to achieve a quid pro quo—and Danny could guess at the quid: one or more parents of the victims had agreed to come over to the Dark Side if their son was avenged—preferably by inflicting damage on that stuck-up Malfoy family.
A final thought came into Danny's head: the position of Umbridge as High Inquisitor gave her the power to cover up the fact that one of the Hogwarts students had been brutally tortured.
The fact that Dumbledore's still Headmaster would have no bearing: even if the facts came to his attention, he was in no position to lock horns with Umbridge.
No wonder they had laughed at Malfoy.
That evening Danny sat in the library with the Creeveys and all three boys got through a lot of homework.
Colin and Dennis became restive after an hour, but Danny kept them at it until he was sure that they understood everything.
They decided to give Classroom 3E a miss for a couple of weeks, by which time Snape and Filch would probably find somewhere else to look for smokers.
They also played safe with the curfew, passing through the portrait hole at one minute to nine.
After half an hour of fun and games, they went to Colin's dormitory, curtained off his bed and had their usual session of red-hot sex.
They went to sleep jumbled up, but Danny made sure that his nose was able to savour the wondrous aroma of Colin's bumhole.
On Saturday morning, the boys had a well-earned lie-in followed by well-earned testicular evacuations.
They breakfasted and went their separate ways—Danny for a gentle walk in the Hogwarts grounds with, as ever, a book to read on the way.
As he passed a large Cypress tree, something made him look up.
There were two boys high up in the tree. It was an unexpected pairing and Danny sang, to the tune of Two Little Snidgets:
Adam and David sitting in a tree
Doing what they shouldn't be
Quick as a flash, Adam responded:
Danny, Col and Dennis lying in a bed
Doing their homework or something else instead
"Coming up, Danny?" asked David.
"No; I've got reading and practising to do, Wardy. See yer later, masturbator."
"In a while, paedophile," said Adam.
"See yer later, pedicator," said David.
"In a while, juvenile," said Danny, and he went on his way chuckling.
He wondered where James Poxon was and what would happen to the hand-holding project.
He did not wonder long, but found a quiet space, Disillusioned and had half an hour of serious spellwork.
He noticed that the Slytherins were having a Quidditch practice and, making himself visible, wandered over to have a look.
It was not a particularly formal practice, though Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's sidekicks, were having an energetic Bludgeabout.
Well out of the way of the clumsy pair of Beaters, two mixed-ability groups were passing Quaffles around and Malfoy was pursuing a Snitch with a Mediterranean-looking boy who reminded Danny of Joe the waiter.
It was easy, even for a Quidditch ignoramus like Danny, to spot the good Chasers. One of the best was Adrian.
He looked at a junior group which was being coached by a fifth-year. They looked as though they knew one end of a broomstick from the other.
Danny moved to return to the castle, but he heard Malfoy call: "Jorrocks!"
"Yes, Malfoy?" he shouted.
"Hang about; I want a word."
"OK."
After a few minutes, the Slytherins landed.
"Jorrocks, do you know Crabbe and Goyle?"
"I do now."
The boys nodded to each other. My God, they look thick! Thought Danny.
"Come and have elevenses in Slytherin and we can have a chat," commanded Malfoy.
"Yes Malfoy," said Danny, trying to look awed at the huge compliment.
Some of the Slytherins, wandered towards the changing rooms—presumably to have a shower.
Adrian and the other non-showerers headed towards the castle. Danny knew from experience that Adrian kept himself very clean, so he surmised that today's shower had been missed so as to spend some time near Danny.
"Not now, Pansy," commanded Malfoy to a vicious-looking girl who was approaching them, "This is boys' stuff. Go on ahead and make some fresh coffee."
Pansy darted away as though a swarm of Stingshooting Hornets were after her.
Danny wondered whether they even bothered to put the words mutual and respect in Slytherin dictionaries.
They reached the castle and entered the Slytherin common room.
This was Danny's first chance to look around. He was not impressed: the only redeeming feature was a glorious fire in a glorious old fireplace, the latter spoiled by an ugly figure of a serpent on the left-hand vertical and an evil-looking wizard (presumably Salazar Slytherin himself) on the right-hand vertical.
"What do you think of our Quidditch players," asked Malfoy.
"I like their green robes and I can see that they all fly better than me," said Danny, "and that is the absolute total of my Quidditch knowledge."
Malfoy, with a typically Slytherin lack of empathy, ascribed Danny's ignorance to lack of education rather than lack of interest and proceeded to remedy this defect. He spouted on about the merits of the Slytherin team individually and in combination and was still spouting as they sat round a coffee-table.
Hufflepuff coffee was, indeed, much better, but Malfoy's biscuits were of the best.
When he had run out of boasts Malfoy asked: "What do you think of the Gryffindor team."
"Never seen them."
"Well you ought to see them: they've got that Weasley as Keeper. He's a complete clown—so bad it's an education in what not to do."
"Talking of what not to do, I've got better things to do than watch Weasley. A prefect! That's a laugh! The whole family are . . . well, not the whole family: the twins do some pretty funny tricks . . . but that Ron Weasley: he threatened me with detention when I took the pee. I told him my father could get his father in serious trouble if he wanted. He shut up pretty quick then."
Malfoy laughed and Danny hoped that this bit of bait would get back to Mr Malfoy.
Danny continued: "And talking of my father: he's done business with someone called Pucey and I heard some girls saying there was a Pucey in Slytherin. Are they relations?"
"Yeah, it's his son . . . Pucey!"
Adrian came over.
"Pucey, this is Jorrocks. Apparently your fathers have worked together."
The boys shook hands as Malfoy shouted: "Pansy, a mug for Pucey."
Danny said: "Pucey, don't ask me what sort of business our dad's did because I didn't take any notice at the time."
"It'll be food," said Adrian, "My dad's a farmer and food-processor. I understand his business top-to-bottom 'cos I have to get my hands dirty in the hols."
"Well, if he wants to get the best price for his produce and stock, or if he wants to get together a business plan, tell him to go to my father."
"I'll let him know."
"Or, if you really understand the Pucey business, talk it through with me some time. Dad's company's done a lot for farmers."
"Yeah, let's meet up and have a chat."
There was a pause in the conversation and Malfoy changed the subject: "How did your first-years meeting go, Jorrocks?"
"Excellent. It was good that you sent two Slytherins."
"What meeting is that, Malfoy?" asked Adrian.
"Didn't you know? We discussed it last weekend. Jorrocks has formed a group for the first-years to discuss the issue of gayness."
"I thought we were all clear about gayness," said Adrian, "There's even an old song about it."
Adrian began singing:
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is pure.
If a sperm is wasted,
That's one pure-blood the fewer.
Let the Mudbloods spill theirs
In bum or mouth or fist.
We shall shout hooray for
A brat that won't be missed.
Slytherin sperm is wanted.
Slytherin sperm is good.
Slytherin sperm is needed
In your neighbourhood.
Mudbloods, Muggles, traitors
Spill theirs just anywhere,
We are proud to treat our
Semen with more care.
Slytherin sperm is useful.
Slytherin sperm is fine.
We need everybody's
For all of wizardkind.
Let the Mudbloods spill theirs
O'er mountain, hill, and plain.
We shall raise a glass for
Each sperm that's spilt in vain.
Slytherin sperm is sacred.
Slytherin sperm is good.
Slytherin sperm is needed
In your neighbourhood.
Slytherin sperm is sacred.
Slytherin sperm is great.
If a sperm is wasted,
Prepare for wrath and hate.
By the end of the song, many Slytherins had joined in.
"That's a good song," said Danny.
"Yes it is," said Malfoy, "but last week we all agreed that it's a meaningless song as far as relevance to modern times is concerned; so we agreed that it would be interesting to let Jorrocks try something new in the way of social discussion."
"Yes," said Adrian, "Totally gay men would have no families to stop them giving a hundred percent where it really matters. And married men would have something to do when their wives were filthy or pregnant."
"That's more or less what Jorrocks suggested," said Malfoy.
"I'm sorry I put in a massive interruption with music and actions," said Adrian, "You were telling Malfoy about your meeting."
Danny continued: "There was me and fourteen others—split about fifty-fifty gay and straight, though, obviously, at that age not everyone can tell. And we all spoke about what gayness meant to us.
"One thing that's clear is that wizardkind has a far more advanced and enlightened attitude than Muggles."
"As in most things," said Malfoy.
"But you can ask your own attendees what they think, said Danny."
"Good idea," said Malfoy, and shouted to the nearest boy: "Pritchard! Go and find Hudson and Passaro."
"While we're waiting," said Adrian, "tell us what you thought of our Quidditch, Jorrocks."
"Jorrocks is a real pervert," laughed Malfoy, "He doesn't follow Quidditch."
"I could see you were the best flyer, though," said Danny, "When you and that other boy were going for that little ball—the Skink is it?—you were all over him."
"It's the Snitch and, fortunately, Harper is just my reserve."
There was more Quidditch talk and Danny let his mind wander. Malfoy showed no sign of stress and Danny decided that, with Hogsmeade weekend being three weeks away, he had suppressed his dread of the future torment.
Pritchard came back and told Malfoy: "Hudson and Passaro are with the orchestra. Professor Flitwick told me to go away."
"Jumped-up fool," said Malfoy, "I'm sure he's got goblin blood. It's been interesting to talk to you, Jorrocks."
Danny recognised his congé and rose. He gave a nod to Malfoy which was almost a bow and said: "Thanks for the honour, Malfoy; and talk to me any time, Pucey."
He left feeling that he was making progress.
Saturday night was family night for the boys of Danny's dormitory, but the intimate part of the evening started late due to the frolics in the Gryffindor common room and through the castle's staircases and corridors as games with other houses erupted.
During a quiet spell, David Ward took Danny aside:
"Have you told anyone, Danny?"
"No of course not!"
"I thought I might let you know what happened."
"Only if you want to talk about it, Wardy. I saw two boys sharing friendship so I'm not in the least upset."
"Nor curious?"
Danny laughed: "Of course I'm curious, you pillock! And surprised."
"Adam being half of the great pioneers."
"And the two of them utterly in love."
"Yes, that's the problem."
"How can Love be a problem?"
"You see, James is so much in love that he wants to marry Adam."
"Then he'll probably have to wait for many years. Can you see Fudge doing anything decisive—let alone something so outré as legalising gay marriage?"
"Apparently, in Denmark boys can marry each other under Muggle law at fifteen, which is next year. So James wants them to move there, get married and settle down."
"Good for them! They could probably still finish their education at Hogwarts: Dumbledore's not afraid to be outré and he'd probably set up Married Quarters. So I still can't see the problem."
"The problem is: James wants to enter married life as a virgin."
"Oh my God! So Adam's still not had anything off James?"
"Not even a fondle."
"I see now: I know from experience that Adam's a randy little sod and he needs something better than jizzing his undies while holding James's hand."
"Exactly. So he chatted me up this morning. He said he's always been interested in me and he'd heard that I'd been your first bumshoot and you'd been my first bumshooter so he asked me what number he'd be if shagged me and I told him he'd be number two and wouldn't it be a good idea to do it right away."
"The tree was brilliant."
"It was, wasn't it? And you're right: he is a randy little sod—not so little either—and we nearly fell off the branch. And then you turned up and it was like getting a seal of approval from Fate because you'd been Adam's number one too."
"The Watts-Poxon affair is going to be interesting. I hope hearts aren't gonna be broken."
"I hope so too. Did I do the right thing?"
"Of course you did, David. Are you going to be Best Man at the wedding?"
The two friends tittered and dived back into the fray.
By the time they got to the dorm, they were quite tired—too tired too start anything so prolonged as Twister.
Surprisingly, it was Stephen Buckell who took the initiative: "Please can I shag you, Danny?"
Possibly news of the fourfold bum-stuffing that Danny had received on Tuesday night had inspired Stephen, possibly it was simply sexual heat, but Stephen clearly had an urgent need.
Before the other three boys had finished undressing, Stephen had Danny pinned down on his back and his vibrating, blubbery body was pressing Danny hard against the mattress.
Danny pulled Stephen towards him and, before long, felt his hands sliding about as Stephen broke out into a sweat to accompany his flushed, panting face.
Danny felt a surge of love for the warm-hearted Stephen and hoped that, in later years, he would find the girl he deserved—Danny was sure that Stephen would grow up straight.
For the present, though, Stephen was as gay as they come, and clearly enjoying his first shag—even though it was giving him the toughest workout he'd had for years, despite Madam Hooch's best efforts.
The rest of the dorm had stripped by now and were grouped around the two fornicators stroking bits of Stephen's anatomy.
Stephen was grunting at each stroke: Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! and, as his movements accelerated, there was no doubt that he was experiencing an intense orgasm: Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Danny! Ugh! I'm coming! Ugh! I'm coming! I'm coming!
No sooner had he stopped moving, than he had withdrawn from Danny and was examining his willy for traces of semen.
"Us be next?" asked Nicholas White, quoting a well-known historical incident. So saying, he crouched over Danny and slipped his willy into Danny's bumhole.
Miraculous! thought Danny: an anus which had accommodated Adrian's whopper could still feel a delightful stimulation from Nicholas's tiny member—so delightful that after a couple of minutes of vigorous rubbing by Nicholas, Danny started squealing as he felt himself coming.
Nicholas was replaced by David and then by the patient Barry who, after watching the other boys for so long, was excited enough to shoot his load into Danny after half a dozen rubs.
"Did you produce any cum, Stephen?" asked Nicholas.
"No, but LOOK!"
They clustered round and examined Stephen's pubic area.
And there it was: three sixteenths of an inch long, thicker than the microscopic fuzz that surrounded it: it was definitely a pubic hair.
They congratulated Stephen and, following Danny's lead, kissed the new arrival, which proceeding so stimulated Stephen that he asked Danny for seconds.
Danny assumed his position again and Stephen bent over but, for the second time, proclaimed: "LOOK!" followed by: "It's Barry's cum leaking out of Danny's arse."
They all had a look, but it was a very short look for Stephen was lustful again and was soon blobbing into Danny as before.
Thereafter it was a replay, with the difference that, this time, Barry stayed on the job for quite a few minutes, giving Danny a firmer and longer-lasting orgasm than his first one resulting in an admirable portion of cum that was inspected and sampled by all the boys.
"Gonna do us a mattress, Danny?" asked Barry.
Danny obliged and the five happy and exhausted boys snuggled together into dreamland—and the sweetest of dreams could hardly be sweeter than real life.
In the morning, Danny awoke accompanied by only three boys: Barry had evicted Stephen for abdominal offences—Saturday dinner had been chili con carne.
Danny was not an enthusiastic washer and, that Sunday morning, realised that he must have gone a fortnight without a shower.
He wandered into the ablutions offices and was joined in the shower by Nicholas and David, who had also awoken early—Nicholas probably because David had a finger up his bum, and David probably because of the glamorous position of his finger.
They started soaping each other amidst giggles, but then had a better idea and ran to tug Barry and Stephen from their beds, giving them a substantial pre-wash in the process.
The five boys went down to breakfast in what must have been a very clean state as each of them had soaped each of his friends all over.
Dennis was already in the Great Hall and Colin appeared shortly afterwards.
When the brothers heard the news, Stephen had to interrupt his breakfast and run up to the dorm so that the Creeveys could examine the famous hair.
The Sunday Owls came and Danny's letter from his mother (she wrote about three times a week) enclosed something which, despite his love and respect for his parents, Danny found more interesting:
Dear Danny,
I hope you're OK and having a super
Michaelmas term. Things seem unreal
in London without you, Danny, but I
seem to be happily settling in,
since, at work and home, I enjoy being
younger than all of the others and
only having to do a reduced work-quota
under the two managements! When
Donald and Alistair get home, we'll begin
a culinary exercise in evening gluttony!
From your friend
Piers
PS: I'm seeing Grant next week. I need a break—I haven't relaxed for two weeks.
Note from Alistair
Too true he hasn't relaxed! He brings work home every night and dives into the housework—it's Donald and me who have the reduced work-quotas!
Note from Donald
Piers has settled in really well and is blossoming now he's away from home and school. And the money's really useful so thanks to you & Jorrocks & Company.
Danny bubbled with happiness: all was going well in Fulham.
For an instant he considered asking for an exeat so that he could join in but put the thought out of his mind: Piers and Grant were gay Muggles who should be allowed to build their romance without Danny's intervention. Anyway there was a lot to do at Hogwarts: work, Scumbag-resistance and, to be honest, play.
He chuckled at the letter's discretion. You couldn't read any campness in Dot and Alice's contributions. As thirtyish queers hosting a fifteen-year-old boy—six years too young for gay sex according to Muggle law—they had to tread carefully.
And Piers was helping them out too, though he had called Danny darling in the acrostic.
And Piers would know that Danny would read the PS as: I haven't even wanked for two weeks and Grant and me are going to screw each other all night.
The rest of Sunday was a quiet day, the only significant event in the morning being a sighting of Adam and James holding hands loyally.
What happened to surnames? he wondered and decided it would have to be double-barrelled: Adam and James Watts-Poxon or Poxon-Watts.
In the late afternoon he took his book and went for a walk. He had noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione working together in the library when he left and was surprised to see Hermione wandering over the lawn in his direction.
With sudden insight, he knew what it was about: Hermione was going to organise the subversives. He hoped that Harry had said yes.
"Don't say a word!" he said. "Look at the book."
They wandered along the lake shore as though discussing the open book.
"Before you ask," he began, "I've promised Professor Dumbledore that I won't do anything to compromise my father's apparent neutrality. I might be able to do a bit elsewhere, but it's quite possible that I might be Probed and the less I know about things the better."
"Oh, Danny," said Hermione, "I can't pretend I'm not disappointed, but I understand."
"Besides, my family have never been political—just good honest tradesmen—that's our story, anyway. However, I would advise you to give a lot of thought to security: first of all how to discreetly convene meetings."
"I've had a thought about that."
"Excellent. And also how to deal with potential blabbers."
"I've had a thought about that too."
"Excellent again! But there is a major complication."
Hermione's face fell: "Oh."
"It's the Creeveys."
"But Danny! Colin and Dennis are rock-solid trustworthy."
"Of course they are, and you wouldn't be able to keep them out, but they might make mistakes. Me and the Creeveys been friends for two years, we're now adoptive brothers and we tell each other everything; everything. So it'd be difficult for them to keep their mouths shut—specially when we're whispering together at night. The point needs hammering home to them hard; and, even so, it might be wise to include a malice clause in anti-blab spells."
"Point taken."
"Good girl—or should that be good witch?—the Muggles are ridiculously sensitive on such matters."
Hermione laughed: "They are, aren't they?"
"Now you'd better get back and I wish you the very very very very very best of luck!"
They smiled at each other and Hermione walked quickly back towards the castle.
Monday saw the start of what turned out to be an intensive week of work. His dorm-mates were able to take things easy, but fourth-years and above were clearly under pressure, the exceptions being Fred and George Weasley who seemed to have no time for anything but fun—though fun was also business to this pair of blossoming entrepreneurs.
Through the week, Danny observed a number of quiet conversations involving people who didn't normally have quiet conversations with each other. He diagnosed this as people being sounded out. Harry must have said yes.
He hoped his observations and diagnosis were apparent to him only because he had been expecting them, and were not apparent to the Slytherins.
He spotted the moment that the Creeveys had been approached. They had come into the school buildings after lunch on Tuesday and Dennis had run full-tilt to his lesson with Umbridge.
In History of Magic, Colin kept his hands to himself and in Potions he only spoke to Danny when he had to.
Danny couldn't live a life like this. As soon as the lesson had ended, he said to Colin: "We need to talk, Col. Can you collect Danny and meet me by the greenhouses?"
Colin sped off and five minutes later the three young wizards had convened.
"Hold hands," ordered Danny and they stood in a triangle.
The sun was low and red: not the best time to hold a cheerifying meeting, thought Danny.
"Now listen, lads," he began, "You two are my brothers; the only brothers I've got; the only brothers I'll ever have. And yet I've had to keep no end of things secret from you. I told you why and you understood at the time, but you couldn't feel the pain I felt inside me.
"Now, because you're my brothers you know what that pain is—"
He was interrupted: Dennis had turned on the waterworks.
His brothers moved to clasp him tightly—so tightly that they tangled their feet and fell over.
It is difficult to weep when one's chief emotion is surprise, and even more difficult when that surprise is caused by the occurrence of slapstick.
Dennis's sobs turned to giggles, and the giggles became infectious.
They got up and resumed a more dignified cuddle.
"Oh, Danny—" said Dennis, only to be interrupted.
"Shut-up, Den," said Danny, "Security starts NOW! You don't tell me what's going on. You don't tell me if anything is going on. You don't tell me that there are things you're not telling me. Your heads have got to have completely separate compartments. It's part of being a Gryffindor. Understand?"
"Yes Danny," said Colin.
"Oh, Danny," said Dennis, "you interrupted me. What I was going to say was that I needed a good seeing-to."
Two good seeings-to behind the broom shed later, the three of them wandered back to the castle, passing Dean and Seamus going the other way.
"You're too late, boys," said Danny, "You've missed the action."
"You can't have Hamlet without the Prince," laughed Dean, indicating his naughty bits.
The brothers laughed, but Seamus just stared at Dean blankly. He seemed un-Seamus-like these days—quiet and introspective, except when he was irritable. Danny guessed that it was all because of Harry and also guessed that Seamus wouldn't be on the list of those to be sounded out by Hermione.
Half an hour later, they went in to dinner.
Danny saw Adrian out the corner of his eye and decided to pay him a visit that night.
He was free to talk openly to Adrian now, but thought it prudent to keep this freedom in the bank until he had to talk openly, though he couldn't at present think of anything which could cause such a need.
After an evening of work and another early night, Danny made his way to Slytherin at one o'clock.
The password was unchanged—fortunately, because, though he had formed some ideas about a password cracking spell, it was still a long way from being usable.
He crept to Adrian's room, cocooned the two of them from Warrington and removed Adrian's pyjamas.
Dammit, he's showered! thought Danny; Adrian had pampered himself with a feel-good fragrance to invigorate his body and mind, and energising traces of this intensely soothing indulgence had found their way, complete with its eight natural ingredients, into Danny's nostrils.
Nevertheless Danny determined to broaden Adrian's horizons and, as Adrian was lying on his side, was able to press his face against Adrian's fairly hairy bum and start licking Adrian's very hairy hole.
Adrian jerked and said "Danny?"
Danny surfaced: "Hi, Adrian."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm jumping up and down eating an orange; isn't it obvious?"
"I mean . . . I woke up and thought it was Mrs Norris."
"If you want Mrs Norris to lick your bumhole, you'll have to give up on the shower gel"
Danny buried his head again.
"It's not shower gel; it's a luxurious, moisturizing body wash with a fresh, dreamy, soothing, rejuvenating ozonic fragrance and its sumptuous formulation has stimulated my skin into a clean, fresh and tingling life—Ooo, Danny!"
Danny's tongue had penetrated.
He reached around to grip Adrian's limp willy which, after a minute of Danny's anal explorations, became a ramrod.
He sat up, pushed Adrian onto his back and snogged him.
After a minute of this, he broke off and said: "Hello Adrian!"
Adrian said: "Hello Danny," by which time Danny had started to lick his balls.
More shower gel.
He braved even more shower gel by taking Adrian's willy into his mouth.
In a spirit of scientific enquiry, he lowered his head to see how much he could take.
He got halfway before he gagged.
He raised his head and started to lick the willy all over, at the same time squeezing a bit that was currently not being licked between thumb and forefinger.
Adrian was getting very excited.
Danny decided he'd like to see a big come and started a full-grip wank.
He was not a moment too soon: no sooner had Danny lined up Adrian's willy than a great wad of cum rose high in the air to land on Adrian's chest; and, even before it had landed, a second wad shot out skywards . . . and another . . . and more: two more big ones and four small ones.
It was a fabulous sight, thought Danny—like a fireworks display, only more interactive.
His aim had been excellent: despite Adrian's mettlesome bucking and off-putting grunts, Danny had got Adrian's chest and tummy awash with cum.
Danny scooped up a handful and used it to lubricate his own willy.
It didn't take many wanks before Danny had added his own contribution to Adrian's torso: not much in comparison to Adrian, but nearly as much as Barry's.
Then Danny did a belly-flop onto Adrian and engaged him in a post-coital snog while wriggling so that the boys could feel their slippery bodies sliding against each other.
They kissed and hugged for some time, then had to separate and, sadly, dry up a little so that Adrian could have a cigarette.
"Where did you learn all these tricks, Danny?" he said between puffs.
"From a friend in Gryffindor, but I think Hufflepuff are keepers of the lore of gay sex just as Slytherin keep Salazar's secrets."
"Talking of which, I've got my first session with Snape next week. He's very busy, thank goodness."
"And how are you going to play it?"
"I'm going to fail, like you suggested."
"Then it all boils down to when Miles is seventeen and how good a wizard Zabini is."
"I see what you mean . . . I think Miles is seventeen in January and I know that Zabini's a very good wizard. He won't fail."
"So, whatever you do, Voldemort will have the secrets in January."
"I'm still going to fail. If I can't stop the Dark Lord from getting them, I can still hold him off for four months."
"Do you really want to stop him getting them, Adrian?"
"Yes, absolutely. He might even demote Dad and then he'd be safer."
"Suppose you managed to do Disillusionment, found out the secrets without letting anyone know and then passed them to Professor Dumbledore to see if he could neutralise them? Don't answer now; you need to have a long think."
"I need nothing of the kind. That's the best solution and I'm prepared to risk it."
"You should be in Gryffindor."
"I am sometimes!" said Adrian, tickling Danny's bumhole.
They laughed: then Danny said: "You can practise with me and I'm sure you'll get it, but don't let Snape know. Then you can eavesdrop one of the SSK meetings and Merlin's your uncle."
"It might be safer if I have to hide myself from just the one boy: is it possible to Confund under Disillusionment?"
"Yes, brilliant! So you get yourself alone with the weakest wizard—presumably Hudson—get him to tell you the secrets and he won't even know he's spoken them. How good's your Confundus?"
"Ace. Dad taught it to me years ago; we have to use it on Muggle farmworkers, sometimes."
"Sorted! Can you make tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Then come to the third floor classroom corridor at eight o'clock. You might even get it right and then we can plan how you manage Hudson."
"He's in your gay group, isn't he? What did you think of him?"
"He announced he was gay like everyone else at the start, then he said nothing else; nor did Passaro. Mind you, they maybe just couldn't get a word in: most of the others like to talk."
"Or maybe he was just inhibited by Passaro being there: he's a slimy bit of work and I think Malfoy made sure there were two Slytherins to watch each other. Passaro's quite thick with Malfoy."
"Passaro might not even be gay. Do you think Hudson's genuinely gay?"
"Can't tell. Probably. When Malfoy called the first-years to say they could go, Hudson put his hand up right away. Passaro only came in on the next day."
"And what do you think of Hudson?"
"A real loner. He doesn't have special friends; he's like me: just hangs about with the rest. He does his classwork with a girl and never talks to her outside class. It could be the Gay thing; or being an SSK; or it could be because he's half-blood: his Dad married a Muggle."
"How good a flyer is he?"
"Also like me: best in year."
"That's your entrée: give him some coaching. Keep it absolutely open or they'll think you want sex with him; then, when the time comes, get him on his own and get those ruddy secrets."
"Yeah. Sounds a good plan."
"Now, Adrian, I'm very sleepy and, if you don't mind, I'm going to stretch out. Sleep well, Adrian."
"Sleep well, Danny. And this time, wake me up before you go-go."
The rest of the week went quickly: a barren, but promising, start to Adrian's Disillusionment sessions in Classroom 3E; an intense discussion on bumming at the gay group; a similarly intense, but more hands-on, session with the Creeveys; and all while Danny was floating in a sea of homework.
Danny measured his stiffie: it was four and a half inches and could shoot a nice little blob at least six inches.
Saturday morning brought an owl:
Deer Danyel
It's Mundungus. Got sum fresh about twise the prise. Longlife 6 Monfs.
3 Broomsticks on yor SATERDA.
Danny had asked Mundungus Fletcher to find him some fresh Polyjuice. This was needed as a potentially serious weapon in Danny's anti-Voldemort activities and was also a potentially frivolous addition to Danny's sex-life.
Danny felt pleased that Polyjuice was on the way, but also a degree of foreboding:
There was an awful lot happening on Hogsmeade Saturday.
— CHAPTER TWELVE —The Fifth Of OctoberDuring the next fortnight, life developed reasonably satisfactorily for Danny.
Adrian had not mastered the Disillusionment charm, but occasionally appeared to Danny's eyes to shimmer. Adrian must be getting very close, though playing useless during his Snape sessions.
Adrian was also getting close, in a different sense, to Brian Hudson. Danny saw the two of them alternating between swooping flights on their broomsticks and lengthy discussions. Adrian reported that Hudson's unhappiness stemmed from the reasons they had surmised, his greatest worry being the status of his mixed-marriage parents in a world containing Voldemort.
Danny's first-year gay group voted to name itself Juniors In Gay Support (JIGS).
Sea Jay and Jonathan continued to hold hands when convenient—Jonny was much-given to gesticulations when he was talking.
Adam and James held hands anywhere at any time, though Adam sometimes slipped away to shag Danny, David (twice) and, it was rumoured, his fellow-Ravenclaw, the voluble JIGS member Caerwen Morgan.
Tintin Wilkes was sent out of Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class to clean off his eye shadow which reappeared, in a variety of colours, during evenings and weekends. It was said that an underground organisation of straight boys had raised funds to buy him some items of feminine attire.
Sea Jay, Adam and Derek had agreed to let it be known that they were Gay Champions (male) for their houses and were available for consultations with anyone wishing to discuss matters. Already, a few surprising seniors had, belatedly, started to blossom.
Danny had not sought a Gay Champion for Slytherin but was pleased that even the most spiteful and vociferously supportive of Umbridge among the Slytherins refrained from bullying or mockery related to any of the current outbreaks of gayness or homophilia at Hogwarts. But known Muggle-borns, gay or straight, suffered enhanced persecution.
Danny had clocked many new willies in the toilets. They were, indeed, of many hues, shapes and sizes and, to Danny's worshipping eyes, they were all jubilant surprises.
Derek Rath, being a fellow-aspirant to the navy, was a friend of Barry Elliott, at whose suggestion he was invited to a Saturday night session, where he endured the dreadful fate of being bummed by all five members of the dormitory.
All-in-all things were going well for Danny until the bombshell.
On the Thursday before the Hogsmeade Weekend, Danny returned to the common room after JIGS.
He was feeling a little unsettled as, at one point during the meeting, he had glanced at Brian Hudson and felt an odd sort of internal thump. He had recovered immediately and put it down to a passing moment of paedophile lust. Hudson was indeed fanciable, but Danny found it odd to reconcile an attraction to a boy two years his junior to an attraction to Adrian—four years older than Danny and physically his dream sexual partner.
He was given no time to mull things over as he was drawn into a game of Knockout Whist.
They played with two Muggle packs, so it was possible for identical cards to appear. Wands were not allowed and the twins could only cheat by using their undoubted skill at non-magical sleight-of-hand.
Neither Ace of Diamonds had appeared for some time.
When their absence was noticed, George said: "Fred, you were the last to win both Aces of Diamonds. You've hidden them, you cheating ayrab."
Fred held up his hands and shook his cuffs: "Nothing to hide, bro."
Lee Jordan slipped a hand into Fred's pocket, but was detected.
"Gerroff, Erno!" said Fred.
Danny needed all his Anti-reflex training to avoid jumping up and shouting What?
Instead he asked Fred as quietly as the rumpus allowed: "Er, why do you call him Erno?"
"Erno Goldfinger," said Fred, "The greatest non-magical pickpocket there's ever been. He's our hero, isn't he George?"
"What? Oh, Yeah: Erno."
George began to sing, Fred joining in:
Goldfinger:
He's the man, the man with the sci-fi plan,
A high-rise scam
Such a cold finger
Beckons you to enter his house of shite;
It can't be right.
Golden dreams he will pour like Tokay,
But his lies can't disguise what you pay
For the golden wine turns cloudy Pernod;
It's the purr of wealth
For Erno
Goldfinger:
Common man beware of his thieving soul;
You'll live in a hole.
He loves only gold,
Only gold,
He loves gold.
Danny wasn't listening, so had no chance to analyse the strange lyrics which seemed to describe a man who became rich by stealing people's souls rather than their wallets—subconsciously he would have known that the song was another example of the strange crossovers that occur between the wizard and Muggle worlds.
A pickpocket!
What on earth did the Slytherins want a pickpocket for?
It could hardly be to remove a poor little rape victim from his unknowing friends.
He went to bed early and thought for a long time before sleep came.
He awoke on Friday no nearer a solution.
Others seemed to be uncomfortable as well: the Creeveys seemed distraits; Harry, Ron and Hermione were not looking or talking to each other; even the twins were slightly less ebullient than usual.
He cheered himself up with the thought that the next day he would be in Hogsmeade saving Malfoy. It would be good fun—especially as it was not earth-shatteringly important: if he failed, the worst that could happen would be a dose of Cruciatus for Malfoy.
Then there was the Polyjuice . . .
During morning break, he decided to tell Colin that he would not be going into Hogsmeade as he had too much work.
Before he could speak, however, Colin broached the very same subject: "Er, Danny. About tomorrow. Some people in another house want to buy a secret present for one of their colleagues and they asked me to help them choose it."
"So you don't want my company—"
"I do, Dan, but they want to keep it secret . . ."
"Don't upset yourself, Col. I think it's Fate telling me not to go into Hogsmeade at all but to catch up on my work."
"I'm glad you're like that. Den'll keep you company. He's annoyed he can't go. He asked Professor McGonagall, saying that you went when you were twelve, but she just told him that, if he'd worked harder, he'd've jumped a year like you. Talk of the Demon. . ."
Dennis approached and, after exchanging glances with Colin, said: "I stood next to Dean in the pisser. He's got a lovely black one."
"There's a surprise!" said Colin, giving his brother a hug and forcing Danny, by reflex, to join in.
"No; shut up! It's important. The tip is a beautiful pinky-purple. Father Christmas could use him if Rudolph took sick on Christmas Eve."
"Perhaps he lights Harry to bed every night," said Colin.
Danny tightened his hug: "Perhaps one day he'll light you and Harry to bed, Col."
"Let's invite him to light us tonight!" said Dennis, and the three lads raced off to inform Dean of their proposal—alas, without receiving a favourable answer.
Danny, of course, was not fooled: the next day Hermione (and he hoped Harry) was going to hold her DADA session.
That was clever: most of the seniors would be in Hogsmeade so there would be no-one to notice that all the students who weren't going to Hogsmeade (pleading too much work like Danny no doubt) were congregating together . . . where?
Danny smiled to himself: Perhaps Classroom 3E; Dumbledore had probably given others the password.
At least Harry would be safe.
The Fifth of October had finally lost its power to worry.
It was ten minutes into Charms that Danny got a jolt.
Of course! Hermione would be holding her meeting in Hogsmeade.
It made a lot of sense: they'd be away from Umbridge and Snape and they could approach the venue in dribs and drabs, as he'd put it to the JIGS.
His stomach turned cold: Harry Potter was back in the firing-line.
Looking at it rationally, there was nothing to worry about: he was sure that the Dark Side hadn't learned about the prophecy; Harry would be surrounded by his friends; Professor Dumbledore would have arranged maximum protection.
All the same . . .
He wondered where Hermione would be holding the meeting.
The Three Broomsticks was out of the question as it would be sardined to the roof with Hogwarts students . . . unless they went upstairs to the private rooms . . . but everyone would see them going in and out so it was effectively as public as meeting downstairs.
There was another inn: The Hog's Head.
Danny had never been there; nor had any Hogwarts students that he'd heard of. It had a terrible reputation—not so much for the Dark Side as for the detritus of people who were on no side at all: mysterious foreigners, vagabonds, criminals: people totally unknown to the Ministry.
Danny thought it likely that Mr Fletcher was a regular.
Yes, if he were Hermione, he would have selected The Hog's Head.
Then another jolt came—ten times worse than the first.
"Oh, No!" he shouted.
Professor Flitwick looked shocked: "What is it, Daniel?"
"Sorry sir; I had a sudden twinge in my head."
"Perhaps it's Potteritis, Sir!" said James Poxon, who had certainly come out of his shell recently.
"Quite quiet, Mr Poxon," said Professor Flitwick, "Do you wish to see Madam Pomfrey, Daniel?"
"No thank you, Sir; please could I just sit quietly for a few minutes?"
"It's probably just Wrackspurts, Danny. I get them every month," said Luna.
"Miss Lovegood, I have told you before: there are no such things as Wrackspurts," said a patient-sounding Professor Flitwick.
"That's conditioning Professor," said Luna, "It's a proven fact that all the Hogwarts teachers are victims of the Rotfang Conspiracy—"
"Miss Lovegood, I have also told you before that the Rotfang Conspiracy is an Urban Myth."
"Well, when the Ministry falls, don't say you weren't warned."
"Until the Ministry falls, Miss Lovegood, we will continue the lesson; and Daniel please sit quietly by all means and if you wish to go to the hospital, I'm sure Mr Creevey will take you . . . now, let us get back to Summoning Charms . . ."
What had dumbfounded Danny was a single word: Piggy-wig.
This word was part of Professor Trelawney's prophecy:
Think over, think over the fifth of October,
Piggy-wig, soldiers and booze.
The Hog's Head—the Piggy-wig's head—sold booze and on Saturday would be visited by what was likely to be an Army of students—including Harry Potter.
Should he report this to Professor Dumbledore? But then, wouldn't the Professor have to ban the meeting—not from personal inclination, but because of his official position?
Thinking over it again, he came to the same rational conclusion: Harry would be safe.
But Danny was not going to leave anything to chance: he would be in Hogsmeade, Disillusioned and near Harry for the duration of the Hogsmeade visit. Malfoy could go hang.
Heartened by this resolution, he raised his hand?
"Yes, Daniel?"
"Please, Sir, I feel much better now. Please could you repeat what you've just said about Accio!?
"Yes, of course, Mr Jorrocks . . ."
That evening Danny and the Creeveys were on edge to the extent that work was out of the question. It was too early for bed and a sex-session now would take the edge off the essential before-bed session.
They decided exercise was the thing and started a game of pick-up tag in the corridors.
By nine o'clock, there were about forty students playing and the place was bedlam with five Chasers, twenty Snitchers and a few quarrellers: I said No Returns . . . You're not meant to pinch . . . That breaks the Eleven-Second Rule. . .
Tag was very popular at Hogwarts because it allowed mixed houses and genders to have some degree of physical contact while retaining propriety.
Filch had long since abandoned attempts to quieten the games down. As long as there was no magic in the corridors . . . at nine o'clock, though, he was out enforcing the curfew, and by five past nine a mouse—had Mrs Norris suffered one—would have sounded deafening.
The common rooms were a different story—some people, like Danny and the Creeveys, had a need to work off some nervousness—and Gryffindor was riotous until, at last, the three brothers quietly retired to Colin's curtained bed.
The sex that night was particularly romantic, with tight clasps and whispered I Love Yous replacing the acrobatic and poke-oriented behaviour which was their usual Friday-night practice.
The brothers hated having secrets, but knew they were necessary in the fight against Scumbag—which was itself an expression of Love.
After a night's sleep disturbed only by the odd half-awakening which gave Danny the opportunity to re-position or tighten his hold on his two brothers, he awoke early on Saturday morning and realised that he had had another of these alarming jolts.
Gathering his thoughts, he tried to identify some new perception of the day's prospects.
After some time he put the perception into words: he didn't believe it!
He didn't believe that Voldemort would approve a scheme to punish Malfoy in order to placate an existing death eater or initiate a new one.
Apart from the fact that Voldemort's pride would not allow him to offer a quid pro quo, any scheme involving Hogwarts would surely be directed at Professor Dumbledore or Harry Potter.
That was it!
They were going to Cruciate Harry!
Malfoy was to be executioner, not victim, and his terror arose from fear of Azkaban.
And, of course, Malfoy Senior and his wife, who had offended Voldemort in some way, were being punished by having to endure the dreadful fear that their only son might be sent away for life.
It was a typical Scumbag scheme—maximum nastiness all round.
Danny lay, squashed against his loved ones, and reviewed the Slytherin plans: It's got to be done, it's got to be done there and it's got to be you. Harry and Malfoy were being punished.
There's a historical motive. Something about a diary.
Four years you've been at it. Of course! Malfoy and Harry had been head-to-head for four years. Montague had been pointing out that Malfoy had a personal motive for harming Harry. It was stick-and-carrot again.
It's got to be quick—straight on, straight off. Danny had known Malfoy for two years and had him down as full of petty spite rather than evil. He wouldn't want to torture Harry to the point of madness.
There must be something I can take. Dutch courage!
Danny could see the need for an experienced wizard or witch to help extract Harry from his friends, to muffle Harry's screams, to help Malfoy regulate the Cruciatus and to return Harry.
But why on earth did they need Erno the pickpocket?
He asked for a few noisy people to be barging around. That was a typical pickpocketing trick, right enough.
Perhaps, as part of his mastery of techniques useful for pickpocketing, Erno could achieve Corporeal Impersonation.
This made him a serious opponent.
How would it work? As the Slytherins barged around, Erno would transform into a Harry look-alike and the real Harry would be disguised and taken away to be tortured. Then the Slytherins would transport Harry back, Erno would restore the Status Quo and Harry's friends would find a damaged Harry collapsed at their feet.
There were a lot of powerful spells involved in all this and Danny had a nagging doubt: how was it that a wizard of such powers had troubled to train himself in the physical abstraction of other people's possessions? All the pickpockets who had appeared in the Prophet seemed rather pathetic creatures from a magical viewpoint, incapable of even the simplest Summoning Charms.
He dismissed his worries: however powerful Erno was, he would surely be no match for Dumbledore, who would doubtless be there with goodness knows how many supporters.
And Danny would be there too.
Leaving the sleeping Creeveys, he dressed and went down to breakfast.
He was cutting into a sausage when a new idea came: by doing an Unforgiveable Curse, Malfoy would be leaving a hostage to fortune: Malfoy was surely not capable of the extremely difficult Deletrius Charm, so at any time in the future, a Priori Incantatem might reveal the dirty deed and result in Malfoy being whisked off for life.
But wasn't this yet another reason for the skilled support? The experienced wizard or witch would loan their wand to Malfoy—a wand inured to all sorts of evil. Malfoy would use it and walk away, his own wand as innocent as a Zonko trick wand.
He took a mouthful of sausage and egg.
On the other hand, would Voldemort really take an extra bit of trouble just to remove a future threat from the child of supporters who had let him down?
Surely he'd want to keep the threat as another means of control.
It was a good threat for enemies, and Voldemort treated his supporters like enemies.
Enemies.
Danny had yet another jolt. He choked and bits of breakfast sprayed across the table.
A few early-bird girls giggled and Alicia Spinnet muttered: "Well! Really!"
Danny's head was spinning.
He had been right in that the conspiracy was against Harry, but the plan was not to torture Harry, but leave indisputable evidence on his wand that he had tortured Malfoy—a boy with whom Four years you've been at it.
It was utterly plausible to an outsider that Harry should hate Malfoy to the extent that he would torture him: It's all about the past: there's a historical motive.
And with Umbridge at the school, it didn't matter that Dumbledore's still Headmaster. As soon as Harry returned to Hogsmeade, Umbridge could demand his wand and another Ministry hearing would fast-track him to Azkaban.
And that was why they needed a skilled pickpocket.
Professor Dumbledore and dozens of helpers could be grouped around Harry, prepared for the most advanced forms of magical attack; but all they would see would be some raucous Slytherin boys barging past Harry and the same a minute or so later, while Erno restores the status quo and Merlin's our uncle.
And Professor Dumbledore would watch Harry safely back to Hogwarts, conscious of a job well done. He might, of course, intervene when Umbridge demanded Harry's wand but Umbridge was bright enough to arrange a diversion for the Headmaster and the Ministry would be on their way before he knew anything.
It was such a clever plot: clever even by Slytherin's high standards.
And Danny was going to stop it!
He abandoned his breakfast, ran upstairs to get his cloak and was approaching the great, oak front door as eight o'clock was striking.
"You're early, aintcha?" said a suspicious-looking Filch, checking his list for Danny's name.
"Honeydukes have got some specials in, Mr Filch," said Danny, and Filch motioned him outside.
It was a fine and blustery autumn day.
Danny walked sedately until he came to the first decent bit of shrubbery.
Concealed from view, he Disillusioned, invoked the Springheel Charm and walked extra-quickly through the gates and along the road to Hogsmeade.
The village was, of course, quiet; that made it easier to spot Professor Dumbledore or his assistants.
Everything looked normal, though: a few hags walking to or from the grocery, doing their weekend shopping; a decrepit wizard waiting outside the Wizard Library which opened at nine o'clock; shopworkers Apparating in, some of them running immediately, obviously late for the shops that opened at eight.
He patrolled for half an hour and saw nothing odd: nobody who looked as though they could be Fighters on the side of Right.
Zonko's Joke Shop opened at eight-thirty and Danny, having furtively removed the Disillusionment Charm, was the first customer.
"Good morning, young master!" said a miserable-looking middle-aged wizard, "Happy Hogsmeade weekend. Do you just want to look round, or have you anything specific?"
"I'd like a trick wand, please."
"Of course, Sir," said the assistant, placing a large box on the counter, "Have a rummage, or do you know what you want?"
"I'd like an eleven-incher; holly, if possible."
The assistant did the rummaging: "Yes . . . yes . . . somewhere . . . ah, here's a beauty."
"How much?"
"Two Galleons, including personalised announcement."
Danny would have paid two hundred Galleons.
"Yes please."
"Would you like to add an image—we have a wide range, priced from five Sickles to one Galleon."
"No just the announcement, thanks."
Danny paid up and the assistant gave him instructions on creating his announcement.
"But please. Sir," said the assistant, "be so kind as to Charm the announcement into the wand well away from the emporium: Young Gentlemen sometimes use words which are . . . inappropriate."
"OK!" said Danny.
He quickly Disillusioned and used his real wand to Charm the trick wand: seven taps; the words; five taps.
He only intended to use Zonko's toy if he had to, but after a few more minutes seeking in vain for Professor Dumbledore, he proceeded back to the school gates and down the drive towards the castle.
He passed his dorm-mates going the other way. It was their first visit to Hogsmeade and they were excited.
Romilda Vane and her friend were loosely associated with the four boys.
Danny would have had little time for Romilda—apart from being female, she was loud, pushy and selfish—except for the fact that she had fallen out with her friends because of her admiration of Harry Potter. That earned her a lot of Danny-points.
He waited near the castle and some more groups passed.
Then, as though he had scripted it himself, came a gang of Slytherins in their green-and-silver colours.
He knew that they would keep station ahead of Harry and turn round in Hogsmeade so they could run into him and barge him
Sure enough, Harry, Ron and Hermione emerged and set off up the drive fifty yards behind the Slytherins.
Danny followed, looking for a good, safe moment.
There was an irritating knot of Hufflepuffs just behind the three Gryffindors.
Danny waved his wand and Ron's shoelace came undone causing him to trip slightly.
As Ron stopped to do it up, the Hufflepuffs passed and Danny closed to five yards behind Harry.
Taking careful aim, and concentrating hard, he non-verballed: Accio! Harry's wand!
It worked. He actually saw the wand having to wriggle its way out of Harry's pocket before it sailed into Danny's hand.
He non-verballed "Thank you!" to Professor Flitwick.
Harry was now safe from Azkaban, but Danny wanted to get a look at Erno and the mysterious other so he embarked on the more difficult part.
Pocketing Harry's wand, he took out the Zonko and placed it carefully in his left hand.
With his own wand, concentrating very hard, he invoked: Propello! Harry's pocket!
For a moment he thought he'd missed as the wand went off in the wrong direction, but an elegant swerve saw it find Harry's wand-pocket and nudge its way inside.
Harry's hand went at once to his pocket, felt a wand, and moved away.
"What's up, Mate?" asked Ron, pausing to let Harry catch up again.
"Just checking I brought my wand."
Hermione said: "Harry, don't let anyone talk you into giving any demonstrations. Today's for recruiting only."
"I know—that's if anyone turns up."
The walk to the village proved to be great fun for Danny: Hermione, determined as ever not to allow the Dark Arts to give her a homework backlog, got Ron to give her a quiz out of the fifth-year Charms textbook.
Hermione did excellently and Danny was only just behind her, beating her on some of the toughies but losing out on others because, in his studies, he had skipped the easy bits.
They left the drive and Danny looked round to see who else was coming.
Three hundred yards away, he saw Sea Jay and Jonny holding hands and talking to . . . Colin and Dennis. So Den must have got late permission or blagged Mr Filch; and Danny knew where his money was.
As Harry, his friends and shadow entered the village, Danny saw the Slytherins gathered on the pavement, prepared to cross the road, if necessary, to block Harry's way.
Then Danny spotted the famous Erno.
He was the most unnoticeable man imaginable: of middle height, mousey hair, doughy, unmemorable face.
He was crossing the road casually to drop in behind the three Gryffindors.
He had a special knack of moving quickly while appearing to be dawdling.
All his movements were neat and compact.
Harry and his friends moved aside to let the Slytherins pass.
They were singing a song:
We'll wipe the floor with Gryffindor,
We'll cut up rough with Hufflepuff,
We'll win the war with Ravenclaw,
We'll take no more,
We've had enough,
Our mighty roar
Is loud and withering:
NO MORE DITHERING
AHEAD WITH SLYTHERIN
AHEAD AHEAD AHEAD WITH SLYTHERIN
As they sang the song again, they passed Harry and continued on their way.
Erno was among them.
Had he really done it? Danny had watched carefully. Someone had barged into Harry and then into Erno. Surely Erno couldn't have got Harry's wand!
The Slytherins reached the end of their song and remained silent as they turned up the road to the Shrieking Shack.
Then Danny saw a horrible sight: A woman; a witch, but a special sort of witch: an evil witch.
She was short, fat, middle-aged and actually slightly attractive; but her eyes, her sneering mouth and air of arrogance emitted a psychic feeling of sheer awfulness.
Malfoy was there too. When his fellow-Slytherins appeared with Erno, he started whimpering and his whimpers became squeals like those of a rabbit caught in a gin trap.
It was an utterly depressing sound.
Danny glanced at the Slytherins: some of them looked pale and upset.
Then Malfoy managed to vocalise in falsetto tones:
"No . . . No . . . Aunt Lecky . . . No . . . Don't do it . . . Please, Aunt Lecky!"
The witch shouted in a harsh voice, full of cruelty. "Shut up, you craven bit of Crup-shit. You have the blood of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black in your veins! You are related to the Carrows who ruled Cornwall."
But Malfoy's whimpered words became screams: "No . . . No . . . Aunt Lecky. . . It's not Fair . . . Why can't—"
The sound vanished. His loving Aunt Lecky had waved her wand and surrounded him with a Muffling Charm.
She stowed her own wand away and reached out a hand.
"Goldie . . . so reliable," she said as Erno passed over the wand.
Then she tittered. It was horrible: it was the sound of babies being rolled in broken glass; or children's fingernails snapping as they are being pulled out.
Instinctively, Danny addressed his Amulet: Safe!
With an excited smile on her face, the evil witch raised the wand and pointed towards Malfoy.
My God, she's enjoying this! thought Danny.
She called exaltedly: Crucio!
As Malfoy sank to his knees, the Zonko wand turned to rubber and a loud voice, in the pompous tones of Cornelius Fudge (Well done, Danny! he thought) proclaimed:
DRACO! YOU DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW YOUR FATHER!
There is always a moment after a shock when no-one moves and no-one speaks.
Then things happened quickly:
Aunt Lecky turned and glared horribly at Erno who shouted: "That's what the brat was carrying!"
Malfoy rose, his sobs audible again, gave a mad wiggle and ran towards the main street.
The other Slytherins, jabbering unintelligibly, ran with him.
Erno said: "I'm outa here," and Disapparated.
Danny giggled and Aunt Lecky turned.
She could see him!
Furiously, she raised the toy wand, then threw it away and, at lightning speed, drew her own wand and fired a curse at Danny.
Danny got in another Safe! and would no doubt have been protected from the curse had it ever reached him but the air between Danny and the witch glowed blue and the curse dissipated like a Muggle bullet fired into treacle.
The witch wasted no time and Disapparated with a crack!
There was total silence.
"Can you see me too, Headmaster?" asked Danny.
"Better than Alecto Carrow," said Professor Dumbledore's voice.
"Will she have recognised me?"
"No, Daniel; she will have just seen a faint blur."
"I'm thinking of my height."
"Don't worry, Daniel, your father has not been compromised: people who can detect Disillusionment Charms don't use the three physical dimensions. Now, to the best of your knowledge, was that the only threat to Harry today?"
"Yes, Sir. I'll just keep a watching brief from now on."
"No, Daniel, I don't want you involved any more. My friends and I will keep the watching brief. Please join your friends and enjoy the day."
"I can't join my friends, sir; there are some things I don't want to know about."
Professor Dumbledore was silent for a moment, then said: "Ah. And do you know where these things are happening?—it's not of great import because other people are shadowing Harry."
"I suspect they've gone to the Hog's Head. Do you know it, Sir?"
"Slightly," said the Professor.
"Or the Piggy-Wig's Head, as it might be known; where they sell booze."
"What? . . . Good lord! . . . and we've wasted no end of people watching Gryffindor Quidditch practice."
"I would have let you know, Sir," but I only got it myself yesterday, and I knew you'd be here in force today."
"We must have a long talk, Daniel, and if you can't join your friends, I suggest you return to the safety of the school."
"One very quick question, Sir: could Professor Snape detect my Disillusionment?"
"Not in the least, Daniel; and it made him very angry when he thought that it was Harry Potter who had foxed him."
"And a last bit of Admin, Sir: would you like me to Banish Harry's wand back, or would you prefer someone else to do it."
"Can you do a simultaneous visual Confundus?"
"Watch!"
Danny balanced Danny's wand on his left hand and with a Propello! Harry's pocket! sent it on its way.
Harry's wand set off up the road, then paused and decided on an over-the-houses route, heading straight for the Hog's Head.
"Excellent, Daniel! I didn't see a thing. Now I must go."
"One bit of Mystical Magic and quick visits to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks and I'll go straight back to the School. Goodbye, Sir"
"Goodbye, Daniel."
The piece of Mystical Magic was something that Danny could not explain; but he felt it had to be done.
In his terror, Malfoy had release a long snake of poo which had coiled itself in his underpants and, when released, fallen to the ground in five pieces.
Danny had missed, not only his breakfast, but his after-breakfast poo.
Squatting, he bombed Malfoy's part of the Magic and, when he had finished, looked down and saw that he had added three pieces of his own.
He Vanished Zonko's wand, removed his Disillusionment and walked to Honeydukes.
With a gluey toffee inside his cheek, he ordered a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks.
He sat down and chatted with a jolly bunch of Gryffindor senior girls while he looked for Mundungus Fletcher.
The bar was crowded and it took him some time to be sure that Mundungus was not there. He wondered how long he should wait, then reflected that, if Mundungus were coming at all, he would surely be here by now. He must have had yet another brush with the Law.
Then he remembered that Mundungus was one of Professor Dumbledore's team. Danny was sure that he was currently watching over Harry in the Hog's Head—and getting slowly drunk at the same time.
After an hour of happy chat, with the girls and a few senior boys coming and going, Danny left and found an un-overlooked spot in the inn yard.
Without any great confidence, he formed the mental image of Mundungus and invoked: Accio! Polyjuice!
Nothing happened and Danny had almost given up hope when a small canvas bag whizzed serenely through the air and lodged in Danny's hand.
He smiled. Most wizards of reasonable talents instinctively protect their goods from being Summoned—hence the existence of pickpockets. But Mr Fletcher could not be said to have any talents except for a supreme criminal skill and one supreme physical endowment. Danny kicked himself for doubting his Accio!
He had a look at the flask which had lain inside the bag. Like most of the stuff on the wizarding black market, there was no date or other indication of provenance but, if it was as good as the last batch, Danny would be happy.
He pocketed the flask and loaded a generous number of galleons into the bag before concentrating on Mundungus.
He thought: Propello! Mr Fletcher's pocket! and, without a chink, the bag flew away.
Lunch was calling him and he strolled off to Hogwarts.
Walking down the drive, he felt a twinge of regret at the missed varda at Mundungus's whopper.
Then he thought of his Mystical Magic: two primes summed into a cube: there was nothing in the Arithmancy books; it must mean something, but he was buggered if he could see what.
And, talking of buggering, he wondered if there was a suitable willy waiting for him at Hogwarts.
— CHAPTER THIRTEEN —Steady ProgressIt turned out that there were many willies waiting for him, but none of them suitable: students not Hogsmeade-bound were not permitted to leave the castle and, after being cooped up all morning, the juniors were game for any diversion.
As soon as Danny had entered the front door, and given a bag of toffees to Filch (What's wrong with 'em?), he was engulfed by juniors.
They had been going in to lunch and, with Danny's friends absent, saw a chance to have Danny to themselves.
"Come and sit with us, Danny!" said Peter Jones.
"No, you always get to see him," said Jimmy Peakes, a second-year, "Come and sit with us, Danny!"
Danny was reminded of the opening night of term (Pick me, Danny! Pick me, Danny!)
Jimmy Peakes's was one of the less attractive Proposals: Jimmy had a girlfriend hanging on his arm.
"Break with tradition," said Gideon Buchanan, "Come and sit with the Hufflepuffs, Danny!"
Break with tradition!
Why not?
He entered the Great Hall and saw that Malfoy and his goons (male and female) were at the Slytherin table.
He went over.
"Malfoy, could I have a favour, please?"
"What?"
Malfoy was twitchy and irritable.
"Could I sit with you, please?"
"Go on if you want to."
"Thank you."
Danny sat down and talked and talked—about his lessons, about music, about Muggle clothes fashions.
Under such pressure, Malfoy cheered up—he probably put it to himself that the most important Gryffindor was paying homage to the most important Slytherin.
Even Crabbe and Goyle passed the occasional comment.
"To what do we owe this pleasure?" asked Pansy Parkinson.
"It's nice to get some adult company," said Danny, adding, as Pansy giggled, "I didn't mean that sort of adult, you little sexpot: you may go round breaking other boys' hearts, but I'm gay, so you won't get round me."
This caused great amusement and Pansy looked extremely pleased.
"How is your gay group doing?" asked Malfoy.
"It's OK, but it's only a small step. The wizard community is far more advanced than the Muggles, of course, but they still don't talk about it much."
"That's not a gay thing," said Malfoy "It's anything to do with Sex: they don't talk about that much. Perhaps there ought to be general Sex Education at Hogwarts."
"Wiv practicals!" grunted Crabbe, and they all laughed.
"Well, perhaps there will be Sex Education here," said Danny, "There's going to be a lot of other changes. There's a certain woman we can all do business with."
"Amen to that!" said Malfoy.
"And Ah-women!" said Pansy.
After the laughter, Danny told them a bit more about JIGS and the new concept of Gay Champions.
Malfoy asked sharply why Slytherin did not have a Gay Champion.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy, they all just volunteered and no-one's got round to asking Slytherin yet."
"Could I be Slytherin Gay Champion, Jorrocks?" asked Pansy.
There was laughter, but Danny said: "I know it's looking after the interests of gay males, but I don't see why a Gay Champion should have to be gay and male."
"You'd be safe from getting raped, anyway, Pansy!" said Malfoy.
After more laughter the conversation widened in scope. Danny was put off by the snobbery and bitchiness of it all.
When invited to comment, he resorted to bland neutralities: Oh well, it takes all sorts . . . Live and let live . . . Shouldn't mock the afflicted . . . It'll all come out in the wash . . .
Glancing up the table, he saw that the Slytherin seniors involved in the Hogsmeade conspiracy were present and that Adrian was seated with them.
Amidst the juniors, he saw Hudson and Passaro.
It was a shame that they'd missed out on a perfect day for Quidditch coaching.
With a qualm he realised that, in the forthcoming Quidditch match, a bit of him would be supporting Slytherin, even though that meant Harry would lose and Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle win.
Malfoy seemed to have recovered from the terrors and embarrassment of the morning and, as they got up after lunch, was ordering Montague and Warrington about as if nothing had happened: it seemed that their authority only extended to areas involving Malfoy being tortured.
That afternoon, Danny played games with the juniors, the numbers being steadily reinforced by returnees from Hogsmeade.
When he saw his brothers, Danny broke everything else off and joined them.
"How did you do it, Den?" he asked.
"I went through and told him I was Colin."
"And then I tried to get though and he said I'd already been through," said Colin 'And I kept telling him I was Colin Creevey and there was a big queue and Professor Sprout came and said of course it was me so he had to let me through."
Danny refrained from asking about their visit to Hogsmeade, but he could sense their suppressed excitement.
The Creeveys did well, though, at one stage, Dennis bubbled: "We saw a witch with a veil from the top of her head to her feet."
"Not interested!" said Danny, staring at Dennis.
"Yeah," Colin continued "There was a picture of her in one of the shop windows."
"Was it Honeydukes? I got some toffees there today."
"I thought you weren't going."
"I popped out for an hour or so."
The brothers looked pleased: Danny guessed that they hoped he'd been concealed in the Hog's Head.
They were joined by the members of Danny's dormitory, keen to talk of the wonders of Hogsmeade and to show off their treasures, pleased to see Danny again and eagerly looking forward to Saturday Night.
The minutes melted away into hours and suddenly it was time for dinner.
A noisy dinner was followed by further noise in the common room as Hogsmeade stuff was shown, shared and played with.
At half past eight, David stretched and said: "Ah well, I'm for an early night."
The others yawned theatrically and concurred.
But it was not to be: the prefect, Kenneth Towler, came up: "Danny, Professor McGonagall's compliments, and would you favour her with an interview in her private quarters?"
There was a ribald chorus as Danny rose and went on his way.
He knocked on the door and it was opened by a Professor McGonagall that he had never seen before.
She had let her dark hair down; she was dressed in a long, beautifully-cut tartan skirt and frilly, white blouse topped by what his mother-called a twin-set.
"Come in Jorrocks," she ordered, as brusquely as ever, "Please be seated."
It was a beautifully furnished room, lined with oak panelling and with matching curtains, carpets and seat-covers in patterned red plush. Fragrant logs blazed cheerfully in a great stone fireplace.
"Good evening, Daniel."
Professor Dumbledore was seated in one armchair, the other being Professor McGonagall's, judging by the knitting resting on one arm.
"Good evening, Sir," he said, sitting on the sofa.
"A good day's work by all, Daniel. I think, as autumn is upon us, we might indulge in some ginger wine."
"I'd prefer a gin-and-tonic, Sir."
"Certainly, my boy!"
The Professor produced a glass of the Queen of Relaxers, which hovered expectantly by Danny's right hand, and two glasses of ginger wine.
"Albus, he's a student," sniffed Professor McGonagall.
"A student who today single-handedly saved Harry Potter from being expelled and sent to Azkaban, Minerva" said Professor Dumbledore.
"Good Heavens! Please explain, Albus."
"As you know, we were out in force today, watching over Harry. My attention was drawn to a Disillusioned personage who I managed, with difficulty, to identify as Daniel."
"You can Disillusion, Jorrocks!"
"Yes, Miss; Look."
Danny did the Disillusionment Charm.
"Can you see me, Miss."
"Just a blur. I'd miss you if I weren't looking. I must say: I'm very impressed, Jorrocks."
Danny removed the Charm and addressed Professor Dumbledore: "Sir, if you can see me properly and Professor McGonagall and Aunt Lecky can slightly make me out, why was I completely invisible to Voldemort?"
"You've seen Voldemort? Oh, Danny! Headmaster! Gin-and-tonic! Exposing him to Voldemort! This is a child!"
"The latter was certainly not my choice, Minerva, and in answer to your question, Daniel: decoding a Disillusionment Charm requires a genuine interest in others—something which Voldemort lacks."
"Then why can Aunt Lecky do so well."
"Aunt Lecky, or Alecto Carrow, to give her her proper title, has an interest in people, but an interest in people as victims. She and her twin brother mutually reinforced this interest during their childhood."
"You've met this filthy woman, too, Jorrocks?" said Professor McGonagall.
"Yes; in Hogsmeade today."
"Albus, this is awful. Please continue."
"As I told you, I detected Jorrocks. He was following Harry and his friends, Ronald and Hermione. I guessed that he was, like me, watching over Harry.
"A group of rowdy Slytherins barged by them, but I thought nothing of it. Then I noticed that Daniel was following the Slytherins, who were now accompanied by a harmless-looking man who had been walking the other way.
"What I did not see, Minerva, was that this man had taken Harry's wand from his cloak-pocket."
Professor McGonagall snorted: "A fat lot of use he'd find for it and Potter was still protected by others, anyway."
"But his wand wasn't protected: the plan was to use Harry's wand to perform an Unforgiveable curse and return it to his cloak. The evidence would be in the wand and neither Harry nor anyone else would know.
"Then, at a moment when you and I were diverted, the Ministry would be summoned and Harry would be at best under house arrest at Little Whinging and at worst a prisoner in Azkaban."
"Albus! What an evil, evil thing to do."
"Indeed, Minerva. Now Daniel, please tell us the full story of how you got on to it."
Daniel obeyed, beginning with his wish to learn about a prophecy and a plan: The Fifth of October and You-know-where.
He took them through the story from his Slytherin eavesdropping to Aunt Lecky's Disapparation.
"Is she really his aunt, Sir?"
"His godmother and his mother's best friend."
"How awful."
"I suspect even more awful than you think: I wouldn't be surprised if the instigator were Lucius Malfoy."
"His Father!" said Danny and Professor McGonagall simultaneously.
"Yes, though to give her her due, it would have been done behind Narcissa Malfoy's back."
"It's a lesson to us Albus: we put so much emphasis on magical dangers that we sometimes forget the simple non-wizarding threats," said Professor McGonagall.
"Indeed, yes; but this time we've got away with it. The Fifth of October has been negotiated and we owe Sybil a debt of gratitude—though she doesn't know it."
"A debt I fear she will have to call in soon, Albus."
"Indeed, Yes."
"And to think we thought it was about Quidditch!"
"My idea, Minerva—and a bad one. Still, all's well that ends well, and you can now get back to doing normal, schoolboy things, Daniel."
"I fear not, Sir."
"No, Daniel?"
"I think today's scheme was a recent venture and the You-know-where project is still going. Have either of you heard of Slytherin's Secrets?"
They shook their heads.
"Or Slytherin Secret Keepers?"
They shook their heads again.
So Danny told them about the Secrets and the SSK's and how Mr Pucey was using his son to get the secrets for Voldemort.
"I know Adrian Pucey," said Professor McGonagall, "A quiet, intelligent, hard-working boy. He doesn't really fit in to Slytherin."
"I'll say!" said Danny, "He hates his parents being death eaters and he thinks they're iffy about it themselves, but there's no way out."
Professor Dumbledore thought for a moment and then said: "Daniel you told me about the pressure Mr Pucey was putting on Adrian, and Severus told me that Mr Pucey had asked for special coaching for Adrian on the Disillusionment Charm. He was not happy, but reported to me that it was of theoretical interest only as the boy lacked any aptitude for the Charm."
"Not true, Sir. He's been playing stupid for Professor Snape. I've been coaching him and I think he's nearly got it."
"Jorrocks! Are you mad?" snapped Professor McGonagall.
Danny smiled: "No, Miss. He's a friend and he's prepared to betray his parents to the extent of getting hold of the Secrets and giving them to you, Sir, to see if they can be neutralised."
Danny then explained about the January deadline.
"Can you check the date, please, Minerva?"
Professor McGonagall got up and crossed to a side table. She tapped a large rock that was resting on the table, muttered some words and a voice—her voice—called out: Claude Vere Cavendish Miles. Slytherin. Born twenty-second of January nineteen seventy-nine.
Then she turned and called out: "Jorrocks!"
"Yes, Miss."
"I've just realised: you Disillusioned non-verbally!"
"Good Lord, Minerva! I hadn't noticed either. They always say a good wizard is like a good wicket-keeper in that you don't notice his spellwork."
"What's a wicket-keeper, Headmaster?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"A sort of Dennis Compton. I'll tell you some other time, Minerva. Daniel: how do you and Adrian intend to use the Disillusionment Charm when he's mastered it?"
"Hadn't really thought of it, Sir. Any ideas?"
"Only that he could locate himself in the room where they have their meeting."
"That seems the only way, Sir."
Danny was a little chary of admitting that Adrian was intending to use a Confundus: the Headmaster would have accepted it, but Professor McGonagall hadn't blown up yet and Danny didn't want to spoil things at this late stage.
"Anyway, Daniel," continued Professor Dumbledore, "please keep Professor McGonagall informed. It may be a complete waste of time or it may be vitally important. We just don't know.'
Yes, Sir; Yes, Miss."
Harry strolled back to Gryffindor, happy that his professors approved of his actions.
As he passed through the portrait hole, Fred or George shouted: "What's it like entering Professor McGonagall's private quarters, Danny?"
"Are you offering a comparison?" he laughed in reply.
Then he froze.
Surreal was an understatement.
There sitting on a comfy sofa and chatting animatedly with Sea Jay and Jonathan was . . . Adrian Pucey!
He walked over and said: "Pucey: what brings you to this unlikely spot?"
"Hello, Jorrocks. Malfoy and the others said that, as our fathers were business-partners, I was the best one to be Slytherin's GC."
"GC?"
"Gay Champion," said Sea Jay, "Like me."
"That's brilliant, Pucey—or I'd better say Adrian."
"Yes, Danny."
People had obviously got somewhat over the shock of a Slytherin appearing in Gryffindor common room, but they were still staring out the corners of their eyes.
"What do you think of the place?"
"I feel at home. I think the Sorting Hat caused me a lot of grief."
"That's all in the past; let it be a sleeping dragon and never tickle it."
Jonathan interposed: "Your fathers knowing each other and that: how well do you know each other?"
"Did you wonder too, Jonny?" said Sea Jay, "As soon as I saw Pucey—sorry, Adrian—I wondered: Danny quite often stays away from his dorm all night. Sometimes he's in ours with Colin. But sometimes it's not any of the Gryffindor dorms, and it's not Hufflepuff 'cos they're terrible gossips, and it's not Ravenclaw 'cos Adam Watts said If only! the other day, so it might be little old Slytherin."
"Keep those thoughts to yourself, Inspector Harris," laughed Danny.
"It's freaky: not you Adrian," said Jonathan, "You're a dish—and a nice dish at that. It's just the mechanics: I mean there's a two foot difference in height."
"And a three-inch difference elsewhere," said Danny, "but these things should be kept secret—I mean secret between proper gays. What the Muggles call The Gay Community."
"Was Adrian the first of the famous four, Danny?" asked Sea Jay.
Danny asked Adrian: "You don't mind the lads' cheeky reminiscing, do you? As long as it's kept in the Gay Community."
"To be in a real community is good and to be in a gay community is unbelievable."
"Good for you, Adrian!" said Jonathan.
"Don't let's get diverted," said Sea Jay, "Was Adrian the first of the famous four, Danny?"
"Yes. I should explain, Adrian: you may remember that three Tuesdays ago you gave me a princely screwing. Well, on the Wednesday morning, I felt that the resulting expansion allowed me to take Sea Jay's willy in comfort. In fact, Jonny, Sea Jay and Colin did me good and proper—have you met Colin, by the way?"
"I had him pointed out to me."
"Dennis had gone to bed and Colin didn't want to meet someone new without him," said Jonathan, "Anyway, what Danny didn't tell you was that he told us that he'd met a monster, but he loyally refused to say whose."
"So, as you've missed curfew, Adrian," said Sea Jay, why not come upstairs with Danny. We'll wake Colin, if he's asleep yet, and we'll all meet the monster."
"Count me out," said Danny, "Saturday night is dorm night."
"Count me out too," said Adrian, "I don't want to push my luck—with Gryffindor or Slytherin—on my first night out."
He rose to go.
"I'll see you out," said Danny.
At the portrait hole, Adrian whispered: "I can do it!"
"Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock in the classroom," he whispered back.
They said their loud goodnights and Danny walked happily back to Sea Jay and Jonathan. Adrian could do it!
"Three bloody years and one month!" said Sea Jay, "He's been at Hogwarts with his Muggle film star looks and his impossibly dreamy eyes and God knows what between his legs and available and I've never really noticed him!"
"I've noticed him," said Jonathan, "but like you say, as a sort of film star: someone from another universe; someone you could see but could never expect to meet, let alone . . ."
"How many times have you been with him, Danny?" asked Sea Jay.
"Er, six."
"And how did you meet him?"
"Talked to him as he came back from Quidditch practice."
Danny's friends laughed.
Sea Jay said: "If anyone had seen you anywhere near a Quidditch practice, they'd have known you were on the pull."
Danny smiled and thought: It was business as well as pleasure!
They spent some time discussing an important matter: how much organisation should there be for Hogwarts gays and how much should they rely on the Free Market?
Inevitably, the conversation returned to Adrian.
"Is he very hairy?" asked Jonathan.
"A little bit here," said Danny, "A little bit there. Just the right amount of hair."
"Does he come a lot, Danny?" asked Sea Jay.
Danny was moved to song:
If you toss him off, the wank'll
Splash the ceiling with his cum.
It will leak down to your ankle,
If he sticks it up your bum.
Red-hot Pucey,
Red-hot Pucey,
Shag me till I want no more;
Shag me now for evermore.
In your mouth, you'll find him juicy
You'll be coughing when he comes.
Get your kicks with Adrian Pucey
And his ever-lasting plums.
Red-hot Pucey,
Red-hot Pucey,
Shag me till I want no more;
Shag me now for evermore.
"I take it that's a yes," said Sea Jay.
Jonathan shifted on the sofa and said: "Sea Jay, I need your body now."
"Time for Tina!" said Danny.
"Shh!" said Sea Jay.
"How did you know?" said Jonathan.
"You talked in your sleep, Jonny. Short for Christine I suppose. I think it's sweet."
"Just between us three," said Sea Jay, "Not for the Gay Community."
"In reserve for future blackmail," said Danny.
The lads went up to bed.
On the way, Danny, passed Harry and his friends.
The boys were struggling over Transfiguration essays and Hermione was knitting things for the house-elves.
Danny plonked himself in Harry's lap.
"Gerroff!" said Harry.
Danny stayed put and said: "Harry, I know it's no good asking you to be number eleven—or is it twelve?—but you should know it's not just your body I admire, it's the things you do as well."
"Er . . . thanks, Danny."
Danny turned to Hermione: "Hermione, Braveheart, as caps those make pretty good socks, and as socks they make pretty good caps, and as either they contravene the Elfin Safety laws."
As the others groaned, Danny turned to Ron who quailed slightly.
"Ronny, de . . . mon Keeper, people are saying you're beginning to look really good."
This was a lie, but self-belief is a big thing in top-level sport.
Ron—how many times does the chronicler have to report this?—went pink.
"Getting better," he said, "but it's a bit—you know—when you invite a Slytherin Chaser to our common room."
"It's to do with Gay things, Ronny—things that, sadly, you will never be involved in. Now I must away to the woods."
He wriggled himself up from Harry's lap. He hadn't felt a thing. He thought about what the Slytherins said about Harry: the smallest one in Hogwarts.
They said their goodnights and Danny went up the stairs.
The dormitory was dark except for Barry Elliott's bedside light, though Barry was asleep.
All the beds had their curtains wide-open.
"What, could you not watch for me one hour?" Danny said.
Barry was awake immediately.
"Just you and me then, me hearty!" he said.
Danny shook his head: "Not fair."
He magicked up the big mattress and carried Nicholas, still asleep, over; Barry did the same for David. With a weight-reduction charm they managed Stephen between them.
The lads were naked and ready for action, but also fast asleep, so it was just Danny and Barry.
They lay on their sides facing each other and had just enough energy to wank and press their bodies together. As their cums mixed they fell asleep.
Danny started to wake at half past seven. In the course of the night, atavistic impulses had asserted themselves and bodies which had lain as inert as sacks of flour had gradually grouped into snuggly cuddles and subconsciously each boy felt an emotional warmth cognate with the warmth of their close-pressed bodies.
As sleep lightened for them all, David Ward was the first to wake up properly.
"You were late, Danny," he said.
"Sorry," mumbled Danny and locked his lips around David's willy.
The other boys were wide-awake now and, no sooner had David reached a shuddering dry orgasm, than Stephen was pressing his willy to Danny's mouth.
"Us be next!" said Stephen, commencing a hard humping by which his willy would have reached the back of Danny's throat and choked him, save for the fact that Danny's hand, engaged in auxiliary wanking, restricted it.
Stephen was soon enjoying his usual heavily-vocalised orgasm: "Ugh . . . This is so good . . . Oh! Danny . . . Oh! . . . Ugh . . ."
As soon as his mouth was free, Danny shouted: "Stephen! You came!"
Stephen and the others were exultant.
"Show me Danny," he said.
"Can't; it's lost in my spit, but I felt a bit of stickiness; you produced some clear cum and, in a few weeks, you'll do milky cum."
After that excitement, Nicholas's turn—especially as he didn't get orgasms—would have been an anticlimax had not Barry decided to have his first tot of grog: he tentatively licked Danny's bell-end then boldly took the entire member into his mouth and sucked as though it were a lollipop.
The thrill of having a mouthful of Nicholas's tiny genitalia and a willy being sucked by a virgin mouth caused Danny to explode.
Barry choked and coughed, spraying Danny-cum everywhere and causing much laughter.
When he had partially recovered, Danny moved to service Barry with his now-accustomed degree of expertise, and was rewarded with rather more tit than Danny had given tat.
As they lounged about the mattress in mellow, just-come moods, body hair was inspected closely.
Stephen was the primary attraction: he now had four pubic hairs; Barry had a jungle and Danny had thickened greatly, even in the five weeks since the start of term.
"You'll have to be using a comb on it," said David to general amusement.
David himself was the source of controversy: he wasn't growing individual hairs like Stephen, but his boy-fuzz was more substantial than it used to be. The votes were cast two-apiece as to whether this was genuine pubic hair.
Barry, of course, had a mass of the real stuff, but the chief focus was on his bumhole which was approaching invisibility under the hair which seemed to be growing daily.
Poor, glabrous Nicholas had nothing to bring to the party so, after the other four had had a pro forma inspection, swiftly called out DOG!
This was the signal for each of the boys to try and lick the other four boys' bumholes, the last to do so forfeiting a Chocolate Frog to the other four.
Pushing, pulling and holding were allowed and most of the hits were scored by piracy: two or three boys struggling to pull and turn each other only to be foiled by a lone raider coming in on the blind side.
Nicholas won. He always won as he was small, strong and athletic. The game still had attractions for the others, though.
In the great hall at breakfast, Danny sat with the Creeveys who were avid for information about Adrian and his new rôle—and, of course, about the doings in Danny's dormitory.
This was just as well, because to Danny's loving eye, the Creeveys were hyper over whatever had happened in the Hog's Head.
Danny had owls from his mother and his father, the former containing an enclosure:
Dear Danny,
Life is so good, I can hardly tell you. I've got really good teachers at the office and the training school. I reckon I've made up two years already.
The Landlords spoil me, but in a nice way. I feel so at home with them I'm sure they'll be as near as my own family soon.
Grant came for a visit last weekend—arrived Friday PM and left Sunday PM.
We did the usual London touristy things.
Grant smokes quite a bit: he seems to think of nothing else—he had three cigarettes on Friday night, three on Saturday night and one on Sunday. I had to endure a lot of passive smoking but I had two cigarettes myself over the weekend. I wish you could have been with us.
Will I see you over Christmas?
From your friend
Piers
Danny didn't need powerful deductive skills to realise that one-track-mind Grant had bummed Piers seven times and received two bummings himself; nor that Piers was expecting to join the Family and have sexual fun and games with Dot and Alice.
Danny had the horn: he didn't know whether it was the thought of the chunky Grant rogering the five-star bottom of gangly Piers, or the fact that dreamboat Adrian would shortly be rogering Danny's bottom.
It was a lovely, leisurely Sunday breakfast.
Danny and his brothers chatted until a quarter to ten, sometimes visited by friends—male and female—from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
Danny strolled by a roundabout route to the third-floor corridor.
He met with Adrian and they entered Classroom 3E.
They had a little kiss-and-cuddle, then Danny said: "Right, Adrian; let's see—or not see, I hope."
Adrian poised and raised his wand.
He took a deep breath, then lowered his wand.
"I can't . . . not with this."
He raised his robe to show a pair of ridiculously bulging underpants.
"I can't concentrate with my little cockmagnet in the room."
"Il faut souffrir pour être belle," said Danny.
He drew his own wand.
Within five seconds, they were naked and an antique chaise longue had materialised in the centre of the room.
A bit more wandwork had fourteen chairs arranged around the chaise longue.
Danny had wondered if some sort of demonstration might be arranged as a Christmas treat for the JIGS boys. This would be a dry run.
Adrian didn't stop to consider the rationale for the chairs, but approached Danny and commenced what would have been a good training session for the Pawing-and-Kissing event in the Wizard Games.
After three minutes of endearment, Adrian was at it and Danny was enjoying the sublime sensation of a bumhole massively stretched by a loved one.
Unfortunately Adrian's ever-lasting plums failed to live up to the song: Adrian had four days-worth of juice to unload, and took less time to start unloading than to perform the unloading process itself, which he accompanied with his usual Oh, Danny!'s.
When Adrian gently withdrew his willy, Danny saw that it needed a Tergeo!—he had just done a very sticky poo.
"And that was the only bit of you that needed cleaning: you had a shower this morning, noodlehead."
"So?"
"So I'll give you a lecture sometime about how nice boy-niffs are; but on with the show."
They got dressed and Danny suggested warming-up for the Disillusionment Charm: "You could Vanish the sofa to begin with."
"Evanesco!" said Adrian and the stained sofa disappeared neatly.
After a few more simple spells, Adrian was relaxed and the great moment had come.
Adrian raised his wand and called, as Danny had heard him call in Tussaud's:
Abscondo!
Adrian faded and vanished!
Danny's elation was dampened when he saw that Adrian had not completely vanished: Danny had an impression of a shimmering green and orange blur.
"Walk around the room," he said.
Adrian walked and the blur was with him so it was not just a bit of Afterspell.
Danny described what he could see and they worked on the spell for a good hour, without any perceptible improvement, as Esmeralda Thorpe tautologously puts it, before giving up through mental exhaustion.
"Have you got Transfig tomorrow?" asked Danny.
"Double. First two lessons."
"Excellent. Professor McGonagall won't have to rush off and your classmates will Evanesco straight away. Hang about when the lesson ends."
"Are we going to consult her? Won't she guess?"
"She knows, don't worry. And she knows why. We're all pulling together on this."
"I suppose it's OK. . . . and talking of pulling together . . ."
So after a mutual wank, the boys went back to their houses.
Danny was so keyed up when he got back to Gryffindor that he was seriously thinking of a little sleep before lunch, but he was presented with a more potent de-stresser:
The younger boys had got up a game of Progressive Gobstones and Paul Smith, a pretty little blond boy, shouted: "Late entry!"
So Danny joined the game. It was like being surrounded by a pack of little puppy-dogs.
He loved the physicality of the boys: rough in the course of the game; rough in the expression of friendship.
At one stage, Jimmy Peakes knelt beside Danny, pressing their knees together and leaning a hand on Danny's shoulder. An expression of respect and comradeship—no connection with Sex, except that Danny was gay and Jimmy might reasonably have been worried that other people might think there was a connection with Sex.
Was there something in the air?
Danny looked around. James Carter, tall and dark-haired, was standing with an arm round Euan Abercrombie. He remembered Euan's belief that boys could hold hands and even kiss each other, and that doesn't mean they're going to have sex together.
After the game had broken up, he was walking to lunch and talking with David Ward and Colin Creevey, when they were caught up by a gang of mixed juniors.
One of them, Simon Hibbard, a quiet, bright, red-haired second-year, embraced Danny one-handedly at lower than waist-level.
"Well-played, Danny!" he said, squeezing one of Danny's buttocks.
"Well-played, Simon!" said Colin—anyone fondling his brother was a priori on Colin's friend-list.
"Well-played, Colin!" said Danny.
After lunch, Danny decided that, with the advent of the High Inquisitor, renewed efforts on advanced magic were advisable.
He spent some time in the library then, with a book to read, wandered about the grounds, settling on a bench by the lake.
It was a fine, sunny day and Danny saw that Harry and his friends had had the same idea and were busily catching up with studies and homework.
Some students were playing active wizard games on the lawn; others were strolling the grounds in groups; a few were, like the four Gryffindors, doing schoolwork.
Older students knew to keep clear of Danny when he was working, but he had to shoo away some of the younger ones who did not yet grasp his dedication to his studies and assumed that sitting on a bench in public was an invitation to socialise.
Eventually, he suffered two of the JIGS boys to sit quietly on the bench: James Buckley and Lee Shepherd—two dark-haired boys blessed with beautiful, if contrasting eyes.
For half an hour the boys shared a comic, occasionally tittering quietly.
Then the tittering grew to the point of distraction.
"Shut up, you two!" Danny commanded.
"It's not us two," said James, "It's Lee: he wants to suck your cock, Danny."
"I do not!" said Lee.
Danny felt immense sympathy for Lee: before he came to Hogwarts, he had been looking for love and had received instead use and abuse.
"James, you're doing a very Muggle-like thing," said Danny, "You want to talk about Sex and you doing it by manipulating Lee. To me that's bullying."
"It's not!" said James, indignantly, "It's only a bit of fun."
"It's not fun when you're upsetting Lee."
"You're not upset, are you Lee?" said James.
"Er . . . no," said Lee.
Danny snorted: "He's not upset because he's used to it—he's used to sex-stuff being something that other people use him for. Are you friends, or what?"
"Of course, we're friends!" said James indignantly.
"Then bloody well be his friend! He came to JIGS with a Guilty Secret; you came, so you told us, to Have Fun and Help Other People. Is it really fun? Is it really helping Lee by teasing him into feeling guilty again?"
Danny's hothouse education—intellectual and emotional—had given him the mental attributes of the average twenty-five-year-old.
James, on the other hand, was an ordinary eleven-year-old and he did what ordinary eleven-year-olds do when chided by an idol: he burst into tears.
Lee, no doubt feeling guilty for upsetting James, sobbed, but being well-accustomed to coping with emotional blows, restricted the moisture.
"Bloody Hell!" said Danny, "Lee give your friend a kiss-and-cuddle; he's upset."
Lee turned and put his arms around James who, instinctively reciprocated. He tentatively pressed their lips together.
"It's not working, Lee: stick your tongue right in."
Lee hesitated then must have obeyed Danny's injunction because James's sobs turned to titters.
Lee immediately backed off and the boys, not wanting to look each other in the eye, looked at Danny instead.
"Why do people complicate things so much?" he said, "You've known each other for five weeks; you've shared classrooms, common room and dorm; you've become friends and here you are having fun on a beautiful day. "Isn't that a recipe for happiness?"
The boys nodded.
"Are you Best Friends?"
The boys glanced at each other and nodded again.
"Best Friends are loyal and open to each other. Best Friends try to make each other happy. Everybody deserves happiness, so Lee, sometimes you should make a special effort to think How can I make James happy? And James, the same goes for you, but Lee deserves happiness more than most people, so you've got to try a little bit harder."
"Sorry, Lee," said James.
"There's no need . . ." said Lee.
"There's no need now!" said Danny, "If you're honest with each other, you'll find yourself mentally and physically comfy with each other and apologies will never be needed."
"Being honest now," said James, turning to Lee, "You never said you wanted to suck Danny's cock, but I thought you did want to because I wanted to."
Lee took hold of James's hand, gave him a fierce, undecipherable look and turned to Danny.
"Please Danny," he said, "may James and I suck your cock?"
Danny shook his head: "With enormous regret, I've got to tell you what I've told you before: I can't have a hands-on—or even eyes-on—relationship with the JIGS, but we've got so far without trouble and if it all carries on OK, I think we might all have a special Christmas treat together."
"Roll on Christmas!" said James, "Or at least hand-job on Christmas!"
The three boys laughed.
"That's more like it!" said Danny, "Between now and Christmas, go for the mentally and physically comfy bit."
"How do we actually do that, Danny?" asked James.
"I don't know; everyone's different; you've made a good start: you're going round together, you've had a proper kiss—even if it was under orders. Try a few long snogging sessions."
James and Lee looked a little nervous.
"If you spent a night naked in each other's arms, you'd at least stop feeling nervous of each other. Now why don't you piss off and leave me to work?"
"See yer, Danny!"
"See yer, Danny!"
"See yer, Lee! See yer, James!"
Danny studied for another few minutes, then got up and walked towards the front door.
It was getting a bit chilly and he was part of a general movement which included Andrew Merryweather, a mild-mannered prefect from Hufflepuff sixth-year.
He was holding hands with Twist!
Danny was staggered: neither of these boys had ever shown any indication of having or wanting a love-life. Gordon Twist, indeed, seemed to live almost like a monk, but was popular within Gryffindor because of his softly-softly approach to Prefecting—an approach which mitigated Towler's regimental way of doing things.
Following his initial surprise, Danny felt elation: whether it came from Danny's efforts or from a humanist reaction to the Voldemort/Potter situation, there was definitely something in the air.
That evening there was to be a meeting of the four Gay Champions.
Before leaving for Hufflepuff, Sea Jay approached Danny.
"I've come for a briefing, Danny, he said.
"Then, you've come in vain: you're GC for the whole house, including my JIGS; you're in charge of the Gryffindor contribution to the meeting."
Sea Jay left and Danny settled down to read for relaxation in a common room that was in its usual Sunday-evening state of quietness as students desperately got their Monday-morning homework done.
Danny was reading a Muggle book called Oliver Twist—no relation to the Prefect, he assumed—and had decided that two of the characters were gay wizards, unknown to themselves or their author.
When he went for a pee, he was immediately joined by Simon Hibbard whose hormones were beginning to show themselves.
Simon was half-turned towards Danny who, with his usual exquisite manners, half turned towards his companion.
Danny had a long, post-pumpkin juice pee, but Simon made no attempt to pee and simply stood admiring Danny's willy in action.
They had seen each other's willies before of course but, on this occasion, Simon had pulled out his ballbag too.
Danny finished his pee, sheathed his willy and bent down for a closer look. Simon's willy was very white and wormlike.
"I hoped it would be freckled like your face, Si, and I see they've definitely come down."
Simon giggled: "Why don't you have a second-year JIGS, Danny."
"Sea Jay is at this very moment discussing such matters. I, however, will be thinking about organising a sweepstake on the colour of your pubic hair when it comes—from Flame Red to Cadmium Orange, I think."
Simon's hair was even redder than Weasley hair. He was getting a stiffie.
"Aye-aye, that's yer lot!" said Danny, leaving smartly.
Sea Jay returned some time after curfew, but the rest of the fourth-years were allowed to stay up after special pleading to the prefects.
Dennis, to his chagrin, had been sent to bed at eight thirty.
Danny, Jonathan and Colin listened avidly as Sea Jay reported.
"Without boasting, I did most of the talking: Adrian was a bit shy and Adam and Derek couldn't take their eyes off him.
"We were all a little awkward at first but we soon relaxed—we did have two things in common after all."
"What?" asked Colin.
"We were gay and we'd all had red-hot sex with Danny."
"I hope you haven't spent all evening talking about me!" said Danny, with a smile."
"No but it made a bond.
"Anyway, we decided that, as well as talking with people, we would offer a Dating Service."
The other three showed enthusiasm.
"We got up a poster."
Sea Jay showed them.
GAY BOY IN GRYFFINDOR?
You now have a
GAY CHAMPION!
CHRISTOPHER HARRIS (SEA JAY) is your GAY CHAMPION
Sea Jay is available for you to discuss Problems, Hopes, Education, Activities
Consultations may be held in confidence or with wild indiscretion
Interested Parties are also invited to
REGISTER
for introductions to fellow gay boys
INTRODUCTIONS
will IGNORE house divisions
Registration is fortnightly and must be accompanied by a statement of current status:
With boyfriend (exclusive)
With boyfriend (non-exclusive)
With group (exclusive)
With group (non-exclusive)
Seeking boyfriend (exclusive)
Seeking boyfriend (non-exclusive)
Seeking group (exclusive)
Seeking group (non-exclusive)
Seeking casual (single)
Seeking casual (multiple)
Seeking complete pot luck
For your Information:
Other GAY CHAMPIONS are:
Derek Rath (Hufflepuff)
Adam Watts (Ravenclaw)
Adrian Pucey (Slytherin)
Jonathan spotted a flaw: "Why should you register if you're already in an exclusive twosome or moresome?"
"So we know that you haven't simply forgotten to register."
"Of course. What about ages? You could end up with a seventh-year and a first-year going out together."
"So what?" said Sea Jay.
"Well said!" added Danny, "And I'm glad you can't blacklist people."
"No," said Sea Jay, "We thought about that and decided you take what you're given and put up with them for a fortnight. Nobody's forcing you to do anything; it's all by mutual consent. And, after a fortnight, you get someone else: we'll cycle through suitable candidates."
"Brilliant!" said Colin, "What about that Muggle thing Danny told us about—where they wear hankies or ties saying I want to bum someone or I like to suck people?
"We thought about that too," said Sea Jay, "and decided that the mechanism of sex is the lowest priority of all: Friendship is the top priority, then Love and there's nothing to force any of the boys who join to have any sex at all; and if they want sex any two boys can enjoy sex together."
These sentiments were rewarded with hugs and kisses for Sea Jay.
Ron Weasley, still a bit unsportsmanlike when it came to gay boys, called out: "Right you fourth-years! It's long past your bedtime."
"We're going, Ronny," said Sea Jay, "But first, come and see the official erection of the most significant poster there's ever been at Hogwarts."
Ron came over with Hermione and Harry as the poster was fastened to the notice-board.
"Well? What do you think?" asked Sea Jay.
"Er . . ." said Ron.
"Jolly good," said Harry, vaguely.
"Oh Sea Jay!" said Hermione, "Congratulations! I'm so pleased for you and the whole school!"
"It proves that houses can combine together to fight against Evil," said Danny and the three fifth-years looked at him sharply.
As it was Sunday night, with school on the morrow, Danny refused three invitations to the fourth-year dormitory, but the sleepy boys in the third-year dormitory had stayed up to let Danny share in Stephen's moment of glory.
Stephen gave an exhibition wank and, sure enough, there it was: the tiniest sliver of pre-cum, but produced post-wank.
They went straight to bed as they were tired, but Danny heard the rustling of duvets.
He had his own wank, thinking of Piers, and, as he drifted into relaxed sleep reviewed the weekend: Harry was safe; the Slytherin Secrets were in view; Gay Awareness was advancing; houses were working together.
The situation was good and things could only get better.
— CHAPTER FOURTEEN —The Oldest SpellOn the Monday morning, Danny and his friends headed downstairs from their dormitory, discussing the status of Stephen's seminal flow. There was a crowd gathered around the notice-board.
Excellent! The Gay Champion project was getting widely known.
Danny's spirits drooped as he detected undercurrents of bewilderment and anger. Were the old dinosaur attitudes resurfacing?
Danny couldn't see through the crowd, so he listened to what they were saying: what was all this nonsense about the Gobstones Club, the Orchestra, the Theatre Group?
The twins were there and Danny climbed up the back of Fred or George, giving the bum an affectionate squeeze on the way, and sat on a strong pair of Weasley shoulders.
It was every kind of enormity imaginable: a giant poster obscured the GC poster and proclaimed Toadface's ban on organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs.
That it was aimed at Hermione's group he had no doubt.
He trusted Hermione to have guarded against treachery, so there must have been a spy at the Hog's Head.
For a moment he thought unworthily of Mundungus Fletcher, but immediately dismissed the possibility: there was a world of difference between fiddling expenses and total betrayal.
What to do?
Hermione's group and the JIGS could arrange their meetings so that his father's lawyers could drive a herd of erumpents through the definition: a regular meeting of three or more students.
Irregular meetings with rolling attendance would ensure acquittal at a fair trial, but neither Toadface nor the Ministry would allow any trial, fair or unfair.
It looked as though Hermione's meetings would have to go underground. So would JIGS, but Danny thought that he could provide some insurance by using those erumpents—the Ministry weren't going to go out of their way to expel Stephen Jorrocks's son.
Maybe the GC's would have to be canny in their operations too, but surely, to Toadface, JIGS and GC's were the small fry: she might not even come after them at all.
Breakfast was an affair of parallel universes: one buzzing with open speculation about Educational Decree Number Twenty-four, the other comprising mutterings, whisperings, indiscreet groupings and careful avoidance of gazes.Some were members of each universe and the unfortunate Ernie Macmillan stood dithering in a must un-prefectlike way between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.
Fortunately, the first lesson was Care of Magical Creatures, which didn't call for much brainwork and allowed Danny to do some deep thinking.
He made a note when Gonzalo Harper, one of the Slytherin SSK's chatted in a friendly way to Sea Jay and told him that he was going to have a word with Pucey.
That made three-and-a-half gay boys in Slytherin—Danny was still not sure of Nathan Passaro.
Gonzalo was a black boy, though the best description of his skin colour would be yellow ochre. He might have some Chinese blood in addition to his Spanish and African blood.
At the end of the lesson, Danny raced to the Transfiguration classroom.
As expected, Adrian was talking to Professor McGonagall.
Danny locked the door and nodded to Adrian.
"Sorry, Miss; I was waiting for Danny," said Adrian and Disillusioned.
"Can you see him, Miss?" asked Danny.
"Yes, but it's still a good effort and would work with the majority of witches and wizards," said Professor McGonagall, take it off, Pucey.
She had Pucey trying the Charm and its reverse a few times.
"Very well, Pucey," she said, "I think you've come to your personal limit: you could practice for the rest of your life and you wouldn't improve. I know about personal limits from my own experiences."
"Is it good enough to fox a thousand-year-old spell, Miss?" asked Danny.
"I really couldn't say, Jorrocks. Spells were primitive in those days but Salazar Slytherin was a very powerful wizard. But I advise you to try it as soon as you can and I wish you luck, Pucey."
"Thank you, Miss."
"Go ahead, Adrian; I'll see you outside," said Danny.
When they were alone, Danny asked the Professor: "To help me calibrate myself, Miss, how was I compared to Pucey?"
"Much better, Jorrocks."
"And have I reached my personal limit?"
"I don't think so. You started young and improvement comes naturally as you change into a man. If you practice too, there is no reason why you should not become as good as Professor Dumbledore—and he's the best in the world."
"You don't think this would be a good tool for Harry Potter to have, Miss?"
"Potter's got a lot on his plate, at present—besides, there are other . . ."
"It's alright, Miss, I know about his Invisibility Cloak—and it's helluva better than mine."
"An ugly expression, Jorrocks," she said, looking stern, "Your next lesson is with Mrs English and you should ask her to give you a colourful, but elegant, alternative to much better."
"Yes, Miss."
Danny left.
Adrian was in the corridor.
"I think it looks hopeful," said Danny, "When are you going to do it?"
"The evenings are too dark, so it'll have to be the weekend. I'll have to run: I'll be late for Muggle Studies. See yer Danny."
Danny didn't trouble Mrs Englishen-Latin with Brainteaser Corner.
He marshalled his thoughts and knew that he had to apply to Toadface for permission to run a Gay Society.
This was because:
(1) It would look suspicious if he didn't: the Slytherins—and possibly Toadface—knew about Danny's gay initiatives and they also knew that Danny was a fighter.
(2) If he got permission, it would automatically legitimise JIGS and the GC's.
(3) It would divert at least some of Toadface's attention from Hermione's group.
(4) It would lead to an increase in mixed-house activities which would help disguise the to-and-fro of Hermione's group.
During the lesson, he penned two letters and, after a harrowing double-Charms, summoned Tickles and sent him off:
To: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor of Hogwarts
Dear Professor Umbridge,
In accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four please accept this as a formal application to form a GAY SOCIETY (to be informally known as GaySoc) at Hogwarts School.
As well as promoting understanding among wizardkind, this is yet another way we can show ourselves to be more advanced than the Muggles.
Let's go!
Yours Faithfully,
Daniel Timothy Jorrocks (Hogwarts School)
He dashed upstairs to get some owl-treats, then into the Great Hall. Neither Umbridge nor Dumbledore were at the staff table, so he summoned Tickles again and, telling him to return to Danny, answer or not, sent him away with:
To: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
You may remember that, when Adam Watts and I started supporting each other for study and homework, you kindly offered us the use of Classroom 3E as the quietest possible place.
You may also remember that two Ravenclaw first years picked up on the idea, to be quickly followed by six other study-pairs of first-years and you said that would be OK.
Am I right in believing that, because the eight study-pairs are independent and linked only by happening to share a room, Educational Decree Number Twenty-four does not apply?
I would have asked Professor Umbridge for confirmation but didn't want to waste her time as she must be deluged in applications.
Yours Faithfully,
Daniel Timothy Jorrocks (Hogwarts School)
At last he could get on with his lunch.
Colin said: "Is it secret?"
"No; come up to the common room after lunch and you'll see."
Danny had just finished his hash when Tickles returned.
So Professor Dumbledore, like Toadface, was at the school and lunching in private—though presumably not with Toadface.
To Danny's delight, Professor Dumbledore had replied:
Ah yes, I remember it well.
I agree with you that Educational Decree Number Twenty-four does not apply
Good old Albus! Danny had some JIGS insurance.
Tickles perched on his shoulder while he had some pudding and he periodically gave him an owl-treat.
The twins were passing, having finished their lunch, and Danny stopped them:
"Fred 'n' George, would you do me a favour, please?"
"What here?" said one or other, "People will notice."
"No, in the common room."
"People will still notice."
"It's de-noticing I'm talking about: I want you to get rid of that Toadface crap so that everyone can read Sea Jay's notice. I can't risk doing it myself."
"What Toadface crap? Do you really imagine, Daniel Timothy, that we would leave that notice up for a second longer than it took to read it?"
"And was Sea Jay's notice left up OK?"
"Yeah; looks like being gay's moving from banned to compulsory in twelve months, doesn't it Fred."
"Yeah; we're safe, though: we squirted in a squirt's mouth."
"And the squirtee squirt squirted the squirters' squirted squirt onto the squirtee squirt's hankie."
Danny laughed: "Squirtee squirt ready for more squirters' squirted squirt."
"See yer much later!" was Fred's parting shot.
In the common room, Danny stuck a copy of the GaySoc application next to Sea Jay's notice.
"Coo," said Colin, "Do you think she'll let us?"
"Haven't a clue."
"That's not like you, Danny."
"Even Merlin dropped his wand once!"
Danny spread the word that the JIGS session would take place as planned, but that the members should bring some homework.
On Wednesday, the JIGS session convened in Classroom 3E to find an altered layout: Eight large tables, each with two chairs.
There was also a change in personnel: Danny had been joined by Adam.
The boys sat down and placed their homework on the desks, catching, perhaps, a glimmer of Danny's plan.
Before Danny could address them there was a barrage of questions as to whether JIGS would continue.
"One thing at a time," said Danny, "Firstly, you know I like to mix people from different houses, but from now on, the houses will sit together . . . the two Slytherins here . . . the two Ravenclaws here . . . James Carter and Leon Wood here—I've put you together as you're both Quidditch stars—that leaves four desks for two pairs of Gryffindor and two pairs of Hufflepuffs.
"Now, let me introduce to those who don't know him, Adam Watts.
"Adam has all these weeks been my reserve, ready to take over if I got sick or anything. Adam is also the Gay Champion for Ravenclaw.
"Now I am going to relate some history which I want you to memorise very carefully . . ."
Danny related the study-pairs fable.
"You've no doubt heard of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. In accordance with this decree, I have applied to the High Inquisitor for permission to run a school-wide Gay Society, which would, of course, include JIGS.
"Professor Umbridge has, no doubt, been deluged in applications and may take some time to process ours, so, for the interim period, I've composed a harmless fiction: we are not an organisation, society, team, group or club; we are eight independent pairs of students supporting each other while doing homework in a quiet environment.
"If anyone is not happy to be part of this arrangement, please leave, but please don't mention the arrangement to anyone else."
Nobody moved.
Danny introduced the boys individually to Adam.
There was some amusement when it came to Caerwen Morgan. He and Adam spent a lot of time together in Ravenclaw and, within the group, Caerwen had spoken knowledgably about the joys of being bummed.
The format of the meetings had settled down as a general discussion, Danny leading them through a specific topic, and a final review.
They had found that a normal school lesson-length—forty minutes or so—was ideal.
They had discussed Kissing and Oral Sex (in two parts). It so happened that the topic for the evening was bumming.
This was obviously of tremendous interest and they didn't have time to get on to the mechanics as long discussions on the reasons, ethics and shittiness of the act were debated.
As with Oral Sex, most of the gays thought it was OK and most of the straights the reverse—with an attitude-shift dependent on who was doing what to whom.
However, everyone in the room was disgusted when Danny let slip the bombshell that girls could be bummed too.
The topic was deftly eliminated by Gideon's far more interesting question: "Have you two bummed each other?"
"No comment," said Danny, echoed by Adam.
"That means Yes, doesn't it Danny?" said Matthew Hinton, a hunky blond.
"No, it means No Comment. And a very necessary phrase it is, as illustrated by a reported exchange in the Wizengamot:
"Did you shag the boy at Stonehenge?
No.
Did you shag the boy at Cirencester?
No.
Did you shag the boy at Glastonbury?
No comment."
"See the difference a No Comment throughout would have made."
"Completely irrelevant!" laughed Adam, "I know I should be supporting you, but the answer No throughout would have been even better. And you're not going to tell me you disapprove of lying!"
"But I couldn't lie when Gideon asked the question, because then I would have said Yes."
"There you are lads; was that a lie? Make your own minds up," said Adam and the meeting broke up in both senses.
Back at Gryffindor there were no Creeveys and several more few gaps. Danny guessed that tonight had been the first night of Hermione's group.
He had a warm feeling in his heart.
Sunday was the day that Adrian was going to go for the Slytherin Secrets.
The excitement was so great that Danny was quite absent-minded in class, so much so that Professor Flitwick asked if he was ill.
Then the day came at last.
After lunch, Danny raced up to the third floor.
Adrian was there!
"Tell me yes! Tell me yes!" said Danny.
"No go," said Adrian.
It was like being drenched in ice-cold water.
"What happened?"
"The Disillusionment Charm worked a treat. I asked him to wait for me at the Quidditch field. I Disillusioned and walked all round him shouting and waving. Then I Confunded him to tell me the Secrets. He just went Ugh. I tried again and he passed out. I was terrified, but I confunded him to forget he'd passed out and made myself visible. He was fine, thank God, but I'm afraid it was a complete failure."
Danny smiled and said: "I think you did very well and deserved better. The good thing is that Miles is going to fail too."
"I think we should still look for another way, Danny. The Dark Lord'll continue his efforts, I'm sure."
"Yeah, you're right. Let's both have a think over the next few days."
"Will do . . . Danny, there is another thing I wanted to talk about . . ."
"Go on, Adrian."
"I got this note today."
He handed over a parchment and Danny read:
Dear Adrian,
It seems a bit late in the day to approach you as we've known each other for six years, but I'm writing to ask if we could be friends—special friends.
I've wanted to ask you for a couple of years now, but it all seemed hopeless with you being in Slytherin.
Things seem a bit more liberal all of a sudden—due mostly to the Jorrocks boy, I suppose—and you seem more relaxed and approachable this term.
If you don't want to, I'll understand, but my feelings for you will be the same.
Yours Sincerely,
Virion
"Who the hell is Virion?" asked Danny.
"Virion White, seventh-year Ravenclaw.
"White the prefect?"
"That's right—no relation to your cute little Nicky; brilliant scholar—best O.W.L.s of nineteen ninety-four. . . . the thing is Danny . . ."
"You fancy him!"
"Yeah, ever such a sweet character; I've wanted to be friends since we were in second-year and then, later, I really got the hots . . . but, as he says . . ."
Danny was unsurprised that Adrian should fancy White: he was a sexpot—as tall as Adrian, though as fair as Adrian was dark, and not so hunky.
"Sounds like you're both in for a good time; I am pleased for you, Adrian."
"You won't be hurt?"
"Gosh, no! There can't be too much Love in the world."
"I just thought since you were my only lover . . ."
"You can be bigamous and I'll be icosigamous, or thereabouts!"
"Is that two thousand?"
"Sod off, you cheeky monkey, and give me a good seeing-to before Virion grabs all your juice."
Inside the classroom, Danny clasped Adrian.
He shouted: "Rat! You've showered again!"
"Brian might've smelt me; I wasn't going to trust the Disillusionment Charm, was I?"
"Never mind; get yer kit off and I'll settle for what I've got."
For the next three weeks, Danny was fully-occupied: homework, trying for the Corporeal Impersonation and Password Cracker spells, thinking about Slytherin's Secrets, enjoying a colourful sex-life, and in his spare time keeping an eye on Harry Potter.
Adrian and Virion White had developed a full-blown affair, but Adrian was having difficulty in juggling between his two boyfriends: he had finally got the message that, for Danny, odours were erotically and emotionally valuable; Virion, though, was very fastidious and preferred a fully-showered Adrian.
Among the JIGS group, Lee Shepherd and James Buckley had declared themselves to be boyfriends, as had Caerwen Morgan and Peter Jones. As Peter had a tiddler and was not able to satisfy Caerwen's pleasure in being bummed, the pair now occasionally joined Adam Watts for private sessions.
These four, together with a few of the other Jiggers, as they called themselves, had enjoyed quite a few show-and-feel sessions.
The Gay Champions reported quite a few chats but a disappointingly small number of registrations for introductions.
Danny discussed the reasons with an (illegal) meeting of the five of them.
They agreed that fear of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four was involved to some extent, but that it was more likely that plenty of boys who were willing to indulge were unwilling to declare themselves openly to a specifically gay organisation.
Nevertheless, the publicity had certainly been useful as Adrian and Adam reported an increase in furtive fumblings in their houses.
On the day of the first Quidditch match, Danny joined the rest of his house in trooping, in red and gold scarf, down to the stadium.
Any thoughts he had of secretly supporting Slytherin were dismissed when he heard the cruel anti-Ron song of the Slytherins.
After the Gryffindor victory, Danny found himself quite near Virion White.
He sidled up and said: "Great mover, isn't he?"
White looked down at him and responded, with a well-bred and pompous voice: "Certainly is, er . . . Jorrocks."
You'd never guess, thought Danny.
On the Sunday, after hearing that Harry had been permanently banned from playing Quidditch, Danny decided that he should redouble his vigilance: it was clear that Umbridge and her Slytherin allies would stop at nothing to get Harry expelled.
There was another pressing matter: Danny and Adrian had made no progress in the matter of the Slytherin Secrets.
For the sake of doing something, Danny decided to seek inspiration by talking with Adrian and Brian Hudson.
Brian and his Slytherin comrade were easily the quietest Jiggers and only spoke in response to a direct request.
He wandered down to the Quidditch field straight after breakfast and found the two boys there as Adrian had promised.
He greeted Adrian and then Brian.
"Hi, Brian."
"Hi."
"Adrian says you're pretty good."
"I'm OK."
"Show him your back-flip, Brian," said Adrian.
The boy took off, stopped in mid-air and turned vertically through three-sixty degrees.
"Looks pretty good," said Danny.
"Good?" said Adrian, "A fast back-flip from standing start: that's sensational for a twelve-year-old."
Adrian called a few more manœuvres from Brian, then summoned him to earth, flushed with his efforts.
They talked about Quidditch for a while, but Brian was still fairly taciturn. He was giving little glances under his eyelashes at Danny who detected an encouraging degree of interest.
Danny, for his part looked at the boy closely. He was amazed that he had not noticed the boy's beauty before. His face was a long ovoid as far as the level of the lips, below which the chin was formed of three amazingly straight lines.
His brown eyes were probably designed symmetrically by nature, but his characteristic expression had the left eye open under a circumflex brow and the right eye half-closed under a straight brow.
His nose was long and thin and gently concave, though without any hint of a retroussé end.
The mouth was somewhat small with a thin upper lip and a thick lower lip.
Danny understood now the butterflies-in-the-tummy feeling that the boy had given him on a couple of occasions.
He decided that a direct approach might be the best thing to do—in fact it was the only thing he could think of.
"Adrian tells me that you've talked about the Slytherin Secrets."
"Yeah."
"Adrian and I are worried about what might happen if You-know-who gets hold of them."
"Yeah."
"Do you think they could be valuable to him?"
Silence.
"I think I see," said Danny, "The existence of the Slytherin Secrets is knowable, but anything about them is hidden."
Brian nodded.
"And how do you feel about being an SSK?" asked Danny.
"Crap; It's like a bit of me's in prison."
"So let me pose a question: suppose the Slytherin Secrets became knowable, who would you prefer to know them: You-know-who or Professor Dumbledore?"
Brian looked around.
"I trust you and I trust Pucey because he trusts you. The Professor, of course—same as you and Pucey, even though his dad's Mr Pucey."
"And your dad?"
"He's a dead man if he gets anywhere near the Dark Lord."
"What, just for marrying a Muggle? There's hundreds—"
"Not just for that: he joined he Dark Lord for a time; then backed out when he saw how evil he was."
"Has he got the Dark Mark?"
"No, he got out early; but when he left, he wrote an open parchment telling him what he thought of him and told the Auror's Office everything he knew."
Danny whistled.
"Brave man! You're right: he must be one of Voldemort's main targets. Is he somewhere safe?"
"Yes, he's abroad."
"Don't tell me where!"
"You know where."
"I do? Oh . . . Hudson! Is your dad Mr Hudson?"
"Yeah: your man in Carinthia."
Jorrocks and Company had a timber, weaving and feline-breeding section based on a castle in the deep forests of Austria.
"That's wonderful, Brian—really safe, though I've never met Mr Hudson. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It never came up."
"Well, it'll come up from now on; and Adrian, don't forget my suggestion."
"I won't, Harry—but it looks like I'm on parade."
Montague was approaching. Danny knew that, furious at their defeat, Montague had decreed a punishing schedule of practice.
Danny walked back to the castle with Brian, who agreed to give his own consideration to the SSK problem.
Danny's legs felt strangely wobbly—presumably as a consequence of having spent Saturday night five-in-a-bed.
Danny had had a reasonably efficient homework session with the Creeveys on Friday, but they all needed a bit more time and re-convened in the library after lunch.
After an hour of solid work, Colin suggested that a walk would make a break for them, so, after dressing themselves in their warmest clothes, they went out and strolled over the lawn.
It had turned cold, but some hardy students were already outside—a few romantic couples—in three types of combination—and some juniors noisily playing Wizard Croquet.
Danny broached a subject that he had been mulling over: "Colin, there's no sign of Harry lusting after a Creevey-bum."
"He'll have more time to spare now he's not playing Quidditch," said Colin.
"His O.W.L. work and his anti-Voldemort stroke Toadface work will just expand. It's not going to happen, darling Col, unless you ask him."
"No; I've told you: he's got to do the asking."
"Well, until he does, you know we've got this Polyjuice that we've been thinking about how to use."
Colin thought for a moment, then said: "Brilliant idea, Dan, but it wouldn't be the same; I'd know it wasn't the real Harry. It's like those gays you told us about who like big willies but won't use rubber ones."
"Colin's a Harry Queen," said Dennis.
"But this is different: rubber willies are just dumb, but a Polyjuice Harry would have an intelligence inside; and it would be me or Dennis; that would make it good surely?"
But Colin shook his head: "It would only work if I didn't have an intelligence inside."
"But, Colin," said Dennis, "You could be kissing me or Danny and have Harry's body shafting you. It'd still be good. Tell him, Danny! . . . Danny?"
But Danny was thinking of something else: what if Salazar's charm had insufficient intelligence inside?
"Sorry, I was miles away," he said.
At that moment the boys became aware of two objects that were even redder than the low sun: a croquet ball and the hair of the second-year Simon Hibbard.
"Been for a wank?" asked Simon.
"No, but it's a good idea," said his classmate, Dennis.
"Can I come and play?"
"No," said Danny, "Loyalty to those boys and girls shouting for you to get back in the game!"
The brothers went inside, found the nearest empty classroom and masturbated together before returning to the library and their homework.
There was a lot going on and Danny had to wait for a week before he could talk to Adrian and Brian at the same time.
After breakfast they met on the Quidditch pitch.
"Have you heard of Polyjuice?" asked Danny.
Adrian nodded but Danny had to explain it to Brian while trying to ignore the strange, jelly-like feeling in his legs.
Adrian was onto the idea immediately: "So, one of us takes on Brian's appearance and attends the SSK meeting. It looks hopeful: Polyjuice wasn't around in Salazar's day. It all depends how deep into the psyche his spell goes."
The talked for some time, settling the details of the plan and the back-out if things went wrong.
They finished as the compulsory extra Quidditch practice was starting, for which Adrian's presence was required.
Danny and Brian were cold and went into the great hall to warm up with cocoas.
"How's life with you, Brian?" asked Danny.
"OK."
"You never have much to say."
"Pearls before swine."
"I'm flattered."
"Not you, idiot."
"It's Slytherin, I suppose. You don't really fit, do you?"
"You could say that."
"And you don't fancy being a radical reformer?"
"No chance: they're all full of power-hungry and acquisitive and competitive instincts."
"Not Adrian, and not . . ."
"Not?"
"Some others."
"SSK's?"
"Yeah."
"Brian, do you think SSK's are chosen because they are different or become different after they're chosen?"
"The first."
Danny thought for a while and they sipped their cocoas.
"How good a wizard are you, Brian?" he asked.
"Could be better."
"In another house, you mean?"
"Yeah."
They sipped again and then Danny said: "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
"Muggle rescue."
Danny guessed that this meant the claiming of Muggle-borns for the wizarding world.
He was slightly surprised that the taciturn, sardonic Brian should be aiming for a job so unglamorous and unremunerative.
Yes, Brian did not belong in Slytherin.
The boys finished their drinks and went back to their houses.
Danny got hold of his brothers before lunch.
"Colin, Dennis?" he said.
"Yes Danny?"
"Er, Colin, Dennis . . . I'm in love."
— CHAPTER FIFTEEN —Boys In Love Take On SalazarFor the next week, part of Danny was in a dream.
He was fine while involved in lessons, homework and spell-practice.
He was even fine during the JIGS session, though Adam did more talking than usual and Danny avoided Brian's eye for the whole lesson.
He was even fine while enjoying sex or having a wank, though he never thought of Brian on these occasions.
But when his mind was vacant, the image of Brian filled it totally.
His brothers were, as always, totally supportive.
They listened with intense interest as Danny rhapsodised on Brian's beautiful face, his husky voice, his neat, purposeful way of moving, his dry communications; the whole concealing a caring soul.
They did their best to be positive.
"Might've been worse: might've been a girl," said Colin.
"If he turns you down, then he's not worthy of you so you don't want him anyway," said Dennis.
Danny took to slipping into Colin's bed on most nights, sometimes joined by Dennis.
On the next Saturday night, the Creeveys joined Danny and his friends and shared the jubilation as Stephen produced a tiny pearl of milky-white semen.
The seven boys eventually settled down to sleep together on an extra-large mattress. The brothers were widely separated when they fell asleep, but awoke on the Sunday as a tightly-clasped triad.
Later that day, Colin said: "Danny why don't you talk to him?"
"It might embarrass him. Remember: we've got a sort of working relationship through JIGS."
"JIGS is a gay group, Danny. He wouldn't have joined if he didn't expect offers."
"But this isn't an offer: this is love."
"Send him an owl," suggested Dennis.
"What do your expect me to say?" said Danny, "If I sent an owl saying I love you out of the blue, they'd be carting me off to St Mungo's."
"Well, let me talk to him," said Colin.
"No! That's even more embarrassing: he'd despise me—someone who's frightened to talk."
"Well, you are someone who's frightened to talk," said Dennis, reasonably.
"Besides, it's the sort of thing girls do," said Danny.
"And a good way of going about things it is," said Colin.
"Oh, I just don't know."
"It's time for bullying," said Colin, "Tomorrow's Monday and at morning break, unless you talk to him yourself, me and Dennis'll clabbert-march you up to him and say: "Hudson! Jorrocks has got something to say to you!' "
"But what can I say?"
"Bloody hell, Dan! A week ago you had cocoa in the great hall and had a great chat with him. Just do it again."
"And build up to it," said Dennis, "You know: I quite admire you; I really like you; in fact, I love you."
"It sounds so silly," said Danny.
"Of course it doesn't, Dan," said Colin, "We say it all the time: I love you, Danny! I love you, Danny! I love you, Danny!"
Dennis joined in the chorus and, laughing merrily, Danny agreed to the Creevey method.
Monday morning came and, when Care of Magical Creatures finished, Danny keyed himself up, even though he felt as Harry must have felt facing that Hungarian Horntail.
But there was anticlimax: Brian was nowhere to be seen.
They looked everywhere, but, when they saw that the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins were all missing, they deduced that Snape had extended his lesson.
Danny was in a state of nerves and earned a detention from Mrs Englishen-Latin for translating, in all innocence, precium crusti (the price of bakemeats) as pre-cum crust.
"It's these ruddy mediæval neologisms," he muttered to Colin.
"I thought it was," replied his brother, in Morse code.
Tuesday, if anything, was even worse.
Danny was a nervous wreck as they came out of Mathematics.
Dennis came galloping up: "He's there! He's there! Come on, Danny."
Yes, Danny saw him on the gravelled bit by the front door.
He felt even more nervous than on the day before—as Harry facing Voldemort must have felt.
Then he felt a surge of Gryffindor courage: he had faced Voldemort, too, and shouted insults to him.
If he could do that, he could surely talk to a first-year squit.
He strode up to Brian, who was with his classmates but gazing rather vacantly at infinity.
"Come and have a chat," he said, masterfully, but with his voice coming out more squeakily than usual.
Brian looked surprised, but wandered away with Danny placidly enough.
"I know we'll see each other tomorrow," began Danny, "but I thought it would be nice to have a friendly chat today."
"I won't be there tomorrow."
"Oh, got yourself a detention?"
"No; I'm giving up that poncey group."
"What!"
Danny had such an emotional jolt that his wand let out half a dozen combs. He had not suffered from Emotional Magic for months.
"Waste of time," said Brian, laconically.
"But you joined because you're gay—you are gay, I suppose?"
"Yeah, since I was six."
"Then why leave now?"
"Was going to leave after the first one."
"What kept you?"
"You, prick."
"Me?"
"There's only you and Quidditch make this shithole worthwhile."
Danny was not sure if he understood.
"But I'm still here."
"You wouldn't look at me last Wednesday."
"Oh . . . er . . . Brian . . ."
"And I'm not doing that Polyjuice rubbish."
"Brian, come away from other people."
He looked wildly about and saw the boathouse. It was locked, but they would be concealed on the far side.
"Brian . . . let me get this right . . . you've been coming to all these meetings and not saying a word; and it's all because you have some sort of feeling for me?"
"I told you—why are you creating combs?"
"Can't control it . . . deep emotions. Brian I didn't look at you last week because I was too embarrassed."
"Don't get it."
"Because of my feelings for you."
"Embarrassed? You'll go with anything male."
"I'm not talking about going with; I'm talking about in love with!"
"Why didn't you say?"
"I only realised that Sunday in the great hall. It's been creeping up since the day I met you."
A smile appeared on Brian's face: not a massively joyous smile—his top lip still looked as cruel as ever, but his fat bottom lip . . .
The idea of kissing Brian's mouth came to Danny and, unusually for him, he felt qualms; not qualms of the he's too young; he's in Slytherin; he trusts me type; but qualms telling him one kiss and it's forever; one kiss and I'll have no room to love anyone else; one kiss and all the important things won't matter anymore.
Danny was usually merely cheeky to people but he was downright rude to his qualms.
"BOLLOCKS!" he said.
"Wha—?" began Brian.
Danny gently folded his arms around Brian, pressed his lips gently against Brian's, ever-so-gently slid his tongue into Brian's mouth, found Brian's tongue and rested, sucking mildly.
Brian squeezed Danny in his arms, but his mouth remained static and it was clear to Danny that his was the first tongue ever to penetrate Brian's lips.
They stood in that position for ages.
Danny was in heaven and, for the first time in his life, felt no urge to move on to groping.
When their mouths parted, Danny said: "Heaven."
"Good birthday present," said Brian.
"It's your birthday?"
"Twelve today."
"But you didn't get a Greetings Owl."
"Too risky."
"Are you having a party?"
"With Slytherins? No."
"Do they know it's your birthday?"
"No."
"Well, I'll have to find you a present."
"You don't need to."
"Brian . . ."
This was the moment.
Danny steeled himself and said: "I'm in love for the first time. I love you and I want to give you something."
"I love you; since the first proper JIGS."
"Why didn't you say?"
"Thought it was a waste of time."
"Merlin's beard, why."
"You've had dozens of lovers. I'm nothing special."
"You are special. I can't tell you how special. And yes, I've had lovers and I love lots of people I've never had sex with, but I've never been in love with anyone before. That's different. I can't explain the feeling."
"I must have the same feeling."
"It's weird, isn't it . . . sort of holy."
"Holy."
Brian kissed Danny and inserted his own tongue. He lowered his hand to Danny's bottom and pressed their loins together.
Danny couldn't feel an erection and might have been embarrassed to feel one.
He'd always believed that Love was more important than Sex, but this sort of Love was more important than anything.
They broke off and separated.
"I'm going to be late for Transfig," said Danny, "Who are you going to be late for?"
"Umbridge; but any Slytherin can get away with murder as far as she's concerned."
"Come on, then."
By an unspoken sense of security, they didn't hold hands on the way back.
Danny voiced this sense: "How are we going to play things?"
"Don't know. Keep it quiet I suppose."
"We'll chat tomorrow; be the last to leave JIGS—that is if you're going."
"Pack of werewolves wouldn't . . ."
Danny entered Professor McGonagall's class beaming from ear to ear.
"Sorry I'm late Miss," he said.
"You don't look sorry, Jorrocks."
"Sorry, Miss," he said, giving Colin a thumbs-up.
"And have you any explanation, Jorrocks."
"I'm in love, Miss."
The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws burst into a storm of cheering and handclaps.
"Quiet!" snapped Professor McGonagall, obtaining instant obedience. "Take a detention, Jorrocks, though you deserve two for unpunctuality and disruption of my class. Now sit down and let Creevey bring you up-to-date on today's Transfiguration. And for goodness' sake stop smiling."
Danny joined Colin. The Transfig task was too complicated for communication by whispering or Morse Code, and in the Games lesson that followed they were too puffed, so that it wasn't until lunchtime that Danny was able to tell Colin everything; but the delay was beneficial in that Dennis could listen and contribute too.
Wednesday's JIGS meeting was good fun: Adam came up with a scheme whereby seven randomly-selected pairs had to write down what they liked and disliked about their partner and also, they had to write down what they thought their partner had written about them.
At the end of the session they broke up with much recrimination and laughter and, as planned, Brian lingered; but his co-Slytherin, Passaro lingered too. Adam was also waiting for Danny so Brian and Danny didn't have their chat.
When the Slytherins had left, Adam closed the door, took Danny in his arms, and said: "Danny I'm gagging for it! I haven't had anything for a week!"
"James, still holding out?"
"Danny, he can't talk about anything else but the wedding. We'll both be fifteen by the Easter holidays, so I had to work hard to persuade him to see out the school year. So it's going to be on Midsummer's Eve in Odense."
"Odense's in Denmark?"
"Yes; James chose it because it's where a famous Muggle wizard wrote down the things he could half-see because of his wizardness—you know: Magical Creatures, Enchantments, Invisible Friends and all that."
"And he's still keeping you short?"
"Short? Short? He spends half the time talking about how I'm going to take his virginity in a bed draped in white muslin and red silk, and about how he had a wank the night before, thinking about me, and all the time I'm sitting with six inches of cock so hard that it hurts."
"You must really love him!"
"Of course I do! He's the most perfect and wonderful human being in the world! And we've got so much in common and we love just being together."
"You're very lucky, and, as for that hard cock, please get your kit off and send him home to roost."
Within thirty seconds, Danny was being pinned down by Adam on a conjured mattress.
Within another twenty seconds, Adam had, with fortissimo sound-effects, shot what must have been a substantial quantity of juice into Danny.
Adam withdrew at once and took Danny into his mouth just in time to catch his orgasm.
"Life is good, aint it?" said Danny.
"Yeah, good," said Adam, "And Danny, you are getting to be a big boy."
"Trouble is, my hands are growing too, so everything seems the same when I wank."
"Give up wanking, then; unless it's part of two week's time."
The Jiggers' Christmas Treat was coming up and the two boys discussed the scenario.
All the talk about sex re-enlivened them, and they coupled again, with reversed rôles, but reaching the same joyous conclusions.
They parted with a kiss and Danny ran down to Gryffindor, his occasional skips matching the happy beat of his heart.
On the next Sunday, Danny was up early. He was stuck on the Slytherin Secrets and was bent on spending the full day on spellwork.
At breakfast, however, he heard a few words that surprised him: Hermione said something like . . . you're putting Professor Sprout at risk . . . and Ron said He deserves a break . . .
Harry was staying silent, so presumably Harry was the He.
It was very odd and Danny went up to the dormitory to get his boots and winter cloak.
He walked through the front door, boldly Disillusioned to one side of it and positioned himself between the front door and the path to the greenhouses.
He had to wait for some time and, as he waited, speculated that Harry was up to some anti-Dark Side chicanery which involved tricking or robbing Professor Sprout.
He could not have been more wrong, as Professor Sprout and Harry emerged from the front door and set off up the front drive boldly, cheerfully and as unsecretively as could be.
Danny followed them to the end of the drive, where he expected to have to lose them as they Disapparated; but they turned towards Hogsmeade and were soon inside an old-fashioned tea-room.
This was becoming as alienating experience for Danny as the night Adrian had turned up in Gryffindor common room; but that night had had a simple explanation and so, no doubt . . . ah! there it was!
Harry and the Professor had come to meet someone—and what a someone: a tall man in his early twenties; not exactly handsome, but with an interesting face, bursting with kindness and intelligence.
Danny backed well away in case he was detectable to the Professor.
He was pleased when they split up after leaving the tea-room and he was able to follow Danny and his friend—they hid under an Invisibility Cloak but their footsteps, unlike Danny's, could be seen on the snowy ground.
Danny watched as Professor Sprout and Harry saw Harry's friend onto a bus, and followed them, at a distance, back to the castle.
He had no scruples about spying on Harry nor about reporting to the Creeveys.
After lunch, he gathered Colin and Dennis in a corner of the common room.
"Did you know that Harry and Professor Sprout went into Hogsmeade this morning?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Colin, "People say it's was to do with Remedial Herbology, but that's nonsense: everyone knows that Harry's . . ."
Colin paused; they all knew that it was because Danny had to keep himself in ignorance of certain of Harry's doings.
"Off course it's nonsense," said Danny, "I followed them and Professor Sprout's just doing Harry a favour."
"Not that sort of favour, I hope," said Colin and the boys giggled.
"Only indirectly," gasped Danny, "She gives him the chance to meet his lover."
There was a sudden silence.
"And, under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry and his lover had red-hot sex."
"Was it a . . . a . . ." said Colin.
Danny had toyed with his friends long enough: "It was a man!" he said.
A Cruciatus could not have squeezed more details out of Danny than the Creeveys.
Finally, the three of them had to face the astonishing facts that Harry had a close friend and sexual partner who was twenty-something years old; that Harry was romantically drawn to Cho Chang; that Harry and Damian (that was the man's name) were conspiring with Professor Sprout on some sort of anti-Umbridge caper.
They spent the rest of the afternoon speculating about Harry's hitherto-hidden love-life, occasionally glancing over to where the boy himself was having a muttered discussion with three Weasleys, a Grainger and a Longbottom.
Danny went to bed happy: there was the SSK project to look forward to on Tuesday and the wonderful discovery that Harry Potter was gay. Danny's last thought that day was: why Cho instead of Colin?
Tuesday came—the Tuesday when they might discover the Slytherin secrets.
After putting up some feeble resistance, Danny had to concede the logic of Adrian serving as the false Brian: he knew the layout of Slytherin and would appear more at home there.
They didn't want to waste any Polyjuice so had selected a Tuesday when they could be sure that the SSK meeting would start promptly at seven—an evening when there would be no competition from organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs, of which most had re-formed under the Umbridge régime.
Danny had had a confidential meeting with the twins and explained that, in the course of carrying out a project that would be dear to the hearts of Harry Potter and his friends in different houses, he would need some diversions if things went awry.
The twins willingly helped Danny and, despite the worthiness of the cause, their love of fun, surprise, noise and anarchy probably ensured that they would not feel suicidal if things did go awry.
Danny, Adrian and Brian convened in Classroom 3E straight after dinner. There was no time to lose and Danny snipped a lock of Brian's dark hair with a spotless pair of scissors.
Brian had had Games after lunch and had showered carefully.
Danny dropped the hairs into a small bottle.
The mud-coloured liquid fizzed and changed colour—and not just colour: it became striped.
"Right, get 'em off," ordered Danny, placing a Honeyduke's toffee on one of the desks.
Adrian and Brian took their clothes off quickly while Danny applied a Warming Charm to the room.
Danny just had time to notice the whiteness of Brian's skin and that Brian was having a good look at Adrian's pendulous willy before handing the bottle to Adrian.
Don't let me down, Mr Fletcher he thought.
Adrian downed the beautiful pink-and-blue liquid in one.
"Tastes yummy!" he just had time to say before his face and body blurred and he shrank lower and lower until there stood another naked Brian.
"Great!" said Adrian and dressed quickly in Brian's Clothes.
"Wish me luck," he said cheerfully as he raced out the door.
Adrian might have taken the change calmly; not so the other two.
They had known what was coming but were still stunned: Brian seeing himself with a realism that even the best Wizard Mirror could not approach; Danny blinded by the whiteness of Brian's skin—and then having it doubled.
He stared at Brian—each bit of him, and the whole effect.
"Brian, you're beautiful."
Most other boys would have shuffled their feet and turned red but Brian merely said: "Yeah?"
"Yeah, but it's so sad . . ."
"Sad?"
"Yeah; you're at your peak of beauty and it's downhill from now. That lovely white skin will be spoiled with hair and spots and pimples and moles and stains and scars; your body-shape will change and your head'll be the wrong proportion; your ribs and backbone will be lost in fat and muscle and your cock'll lose its innocent charm."
Brian had a longer willy than most first-years—he was twelve now, after all. When Adrian had been dressing in Brian's clothes, Danny had noticed that you could see a curve as the willy jiggled—most little-boy's willies don't appear to change shape.
"Are you going to get 'em off too?" asked Brian, his voice even huskier than usual.
"Can't, I've got to be ready to react if things go wrong."
"We got time for a kiss."
Danny hugged Brian and, for the second time, they tenderly pressed their lips together.
He held the back of Brian's hair with one hand and ran his hands over his back with the other.
The skin was as silky-soft as it looked.
Brian opened his mouth a little. Their tongues met and played with each other. They started to suck gently and Danny, feeling the first surge of lust, lowered his hands and rested them on Brian's bum.
It was sensational: baby's bottoms were proverbially smooth, but no baby born had as smooth a bottom as Brian's.
Danny stroked it, rubbed it, squeezed it, and then backed away.
"Bloody hell, Brian, I never looked at your back!"
Brian gave his tight-lipped smile and turned. Danny got a glimpse of an erection before being bowled over by Brian's rear view. It was perfect: a fragile neck that demanded to be kissed; a trapezium topped by shoulders which only looked broad because of the narrow waist beneath.
And there, below the waist, two domes, identical but mirror-imaged. There were single beauties, a dual beauty and a special beauty that drew Danny's eye to the dark, inviting canyon.
As a bum, it may not have had the perfection of Piers' or Nick's, but as Brian's bum, beneath Brian's back and above Brian's long legs, it was transcendental.
Danny stood looking for ages before his gaze lowered.
"Legs aint so bad either," he said, and reached out two hands to explore them.
Brian stood silently for some time, then turned round and said: "Cock aint so bad either," jiggling it a little.
"Understatement," said Danny.
He had never seen such a pencil-like willy.
He reached out to grasp it, feeling the skin, as frictionless as on the rest of Brian's body, enclosing a very hard core.
He retracted the tight foreskin exposing the dark purple head.
Brian's willy was so long that Danny hadn't really taken in that this was still a little boy, but the head was miniature—similar to other little-boy's willies that Danny had seen.
He slid his hands to the sack. The plums were there: if the smallness of Brian's tip had surprised him, so now did the beefiness of Brian's balls.
"Get yours out," commanded Brian and Danny obeyed at once.
"That cock aint so bad either," said Brian, "is that the pre-cum you told us about?"
"Yeah; have a feel, Brian."
But it was not to be . . .
There was a loud slurp from the Honeyduke's toffee.
At lightning speed, Danny took his wand and commanded it: Dice!
Immediately, the whole castle seemed to shake as a gigantic voice sounded:
Hogwarts blight! Nervous knight!
Bloody Baron, come out and fight!
The voice was coming from the dungeons.
Danny took out a second toffee from his robe and counted to ten. Then he did a second Dice! and the voice, now clearly coming from above, announced:
Hogwarts queer! Poltroon peer!
Bloody Baron, you're filled with fear!
"Have a toffee Brian!"
The boys neatly disposed of the evidence.
Danny opened the door and called Accio! Toffee! twice.
A few seconds later, they were disposing of more evidence.
All they had to do now was wait for Adrian.
"Remember, to listen carefully when he comes," said Danny.
"I heard you the first time, shitface; have we got time to get our willies out for a bit?"
"No! I'm a mass of nerves. I wonder what happened."
"Hope he aint compromised and I hope I aint."
"Give us yer hand."
They stood holding hands for what seemed an age, but was really just a few minutes.
Then Adrian came running down the corridor.
He closed the door behind him and started to strip off Brian's clothes.
"I think we're OK," he said, "Miles started to speak and couldn't; so he tried again and got Warrington to try; then he got us all to try and we failed. Then we had to search around and get all the Slytherins to their dorms; but it still wouldn't work.
"Miles is no fool: he said they'd try it with one SSK at a time out the room, starting with me—I mean Hudson. The toffee was already in my mouth and I bit into it straightaway.
"When the voice called out, everyone ran out into the corridor and when the call came from the seventh floor they rushed upstairs. I ran towards Gryffindor and you're story is that you thought it was the Weasleys insulting Slytherin and you went looking to intercept them."
By this time Brian was dressed and ready to go.
He paused at the door: "Danny, you won't . . ."
"We won't, Brian," said Danny, and Brian scampered off.
"Cover yourself up, Adrian," said Danny, and Adrian wrapped Brian's little body in Adrian's big robe.
Adrian said: "Brian didn't need to say that, though I can understand him feeling nervous: it must be weird knowing that someone knows what your body's like and someone else is in a position to do absolutely everything to your body."
"If he didn't know the situation, I would do absolutely everything to his body."
"Isn't that unethical?"
"Only if I got caught."
"You should've been in Slytherin, Danny."
"Perhaps I will be one day."
"You mean as a spy? You'd be in danger: it wouldn't just be a Hogwarts matter if you got found out."
"If these sods would finish off Voldemort, I wouldn't even have to think of it."
"Amen to that!"
They were quiet for a time as they waited for Adrian to change, then Adrian said: "Danny, when you've Polyjuiced into someone else's body, how much of their mind can you get into?"
"You've got no access to their memory or their mental skills, but, when I was in another boy's body, I felt sort of faint echoes from his soul: heterosexual feelings; violent feelings—feelings totally alien to me."
"That's what I think I'm getting now: you know I love you to bits and I'd willingly lay my life down for you, which is a pretty good indicator, but I'm getting a sort of worship, or reverence, or something."
Danny laughed: "If that comes from Brian, he'll soon learn as he gets to know me better. Talking of loving me to bits, how's the Virion affair going?"
It was Adrian's turn to laugh: "It's going brilliant, but he has me in stitches sometimes: he's unbelievably polite: Pucey, would it be alright to take your thing in my mouth? or Pucey, which position would you prefer?"
"He deserves the best from you: he's waited for you for six years and doesn't try to make up for lost time—just treats you with the decency that he treats everyone else with."
"He gets the best from me—oh ah, here we go."
Adrian was changing back and soon the tall seventeen-year-old was looking down on Danny.
"At last!" said Danny, and stripped.
"Pucey, old thing, do you think it might be possible for you to slip your thing into my back passage?"
It was possible.
After Adrian had disappeared back to Slytherin with the story that he had been hunting the ghost who had insulted their house, Danny summoned Tickles and sent him off with two messages:
To Honeyduke's Sweetshop, Hogsmeade
Please supply on the Jorrocks account two hypermegafabulicious selection boxes to Messrs Fred and George Weasley.
Daniel Timothy Jorrocks
and
To Gringott's Bank, Diagon Alley
Please pay from my account the sum of one hundred Galleons to Mr Mundungus Fletcher
Daniel Timothy Jorrocks
Danny spent the rest of the evening torn between exultation at Brian's beauty and disappointment that Salazar Slytherin had beaten them again.
— CHAPTER SIXTEEN —The Jiggers' Christmas TreatAt the next JIGS meeting, they continued, under Adam's direction working in random pairs and uncovering secreted desires and prejudices.
At the end of the meeting, Adam addressed them:
"Friends: next week we are holding the Jiggers' Christmas treat. For one meeting only, there won't just be talk: there'll be action."
There was a buzz of excitement.
"Danny and I, with some support from guest stars, will demonstrate several forms of sexual activity.
"Now some of the straighter boys won't want to attend—some of the gay boys even—and, of course, it's not compulsory, but if you do attend, you will be required to sign an attendance roll which embodies a dreadful curse: if you ever divulge what you have seen to anyone who was not present, your genitals will turn bright fluorescent blue and flash on and off for the rest of your life."
Adam paused to allow the implications to sink in.
The threat was pure bluff, but Danny and Adam had decided that a little insurance was desirable.
The Jiggers left and Adam said: "Danny?"
"I know: all that talk about sex has left you . . ."
"Really randy."
"Come on then, but remember it's Off-Games and in the Savings Bank for a week after this."
"Let's make sure we really empty our balls, then and start with a balance of zero."
Four thoroughly-emptied balls later, Adam and Danny left for their dormitories to enjoy a happy sleep.
Two of the other GC's—Derek and Sea Jay—were co-opted into the cast for the Jiggers' Christmas Treat. All four were bound to a week's celibacy and found it difficult, though the occasional wet dream provided some relief.
Adam commented sardonically that now they knew what he felt like, courting James Poxon.
Adrian agreed to forego the occasion, thinking, like the others, that the presence of a seventeen-year-old might be overpowering for the tiny first-years.
Malfoy approached Danny on the day before the Treat and told him that Slytherin seniors thought that such a significant event should be monitored. That means you want to watch thought Danny.
Malfoy had to accept Danny's assurance that the Jiggers would be spooked by strangers and, with apparent nonchalance, refused Danny's offer of a special private show for Malfoy.
The incident confirmed that Nathan Passaro was a spy.
At last the day of the Treat arrived.
The Jiggers, trickling in from ten to seven onwards, found that Classroom 3E had been transformed: the focus of the room was a large bed which had been placed towards the back wall which, instead of plain plaster and blackboard, now boasted a tapestry depicting a wintry view of Hogwarts Castle.
Facing the bed was a semicircular dais on which was placed a semicircular banquette, just large enough for fourteen small boys to sit comfortably in a single row, with a good view of the bed and each other.
To the left were four chairs and a table bearing glasses and jugs of Butterbeer, a parchment and quill pens.
Christmas decorations were abundant, but the room was bathed in an un-Christmassy brightness like a Muggle operating theatre.
As each boy arrived, he was greeted by Danny with a formal handshake and a Happy Christmas. Adam then introduced him to Derek and Sea Jay and invited him to sign the parchment and help himself to a drink.
Danny expected and obtained one hundred percent attendance: Sex was Sex and even the straightest boys, Jiggers for the most altruistic motives, were drawn by the subject, even in alien, or even repulsive, form.
The unusual circumstances had quietened the boys' natural exuberance, and they stood around sipping their drinks and chatting as constrainedly as Muggles thrown together at a trade event.
Eventually Danny called them to order: "Jiggers, please take your seats. Sit with your friends if you want."
When everyone was settled Danny addressed them:
"A happy welcome to you all to the JIGS Christmas Treat.
"The four of us are here to educate, inform and entertain you. You've done the theory and tonight you're going to see what it looks like in practice.
"The first thing you need to know is: what does the typical post-pubertal boy look like, in practice? Well, the most typical boy that I know, a boy who has just turned fifteen, is our very own Adam Watts."
There was applause and cheering as Adam rose, and more cheers as he swiftly disrobed and stood naked before them.
"As you can see," continued Danny, "Adam has a man-sized set of genitalia—he may or may not have a bit more growing to do in that area. He has a bush of pubic hair, plenty of underarm hair and a few hairs around his anus."
Adam demonstrated the features that Danny mentioned.
"What you can see," said Danny, when the laughter had died down, "is a typical fifteen-year-old—typical height; typical shape; typical willy; typical balls; typical arse. In the next few years, he will grow some amount of chest hair, usually beginning with a few individual hairs around his nipples. The amount of chest hair varies enormously from man to man: some retain the smooth bodies of their boyhood; some end up like gorillas; some men have hair on their backs and shoulders. As you can see, Adam has slightly hairy legs and, in the next few years, this may thicken—again up to gorilla levels."
Adam made ugh . . . ugh . . . ugh noises and scratched his armpits monkey style.
Danny continued: "We might hear these noises again later, if we're lucky. Now Adam is going to pass along the line so that you can have a close look. You can touch if you want because Adam has been Charmed to remain limp. When you've looked at the front, you may, if you want, turn Adam round to look at his rear. If you want to see what a grown boy's bumhole looks like, you can part his bumcheeks—again, only if you want to: nothing tonight is compulsory."
Adam stepped onto the dais and progressed crab-like along the line of boys.
Each of the boys had a feel, some cursorily and some thoroughly with penis-jiggling, foreskin-retraction and ball-weighing.
Each of the boys turned Adam round and had a peep at his hole—even the straight boys. Curiosity wins over inclination, thought Danny.
There was some giggling when it came to the turn of Caerwen Morgan and Peter Jones. Caerwen and Peter were boyfriends, but it was known that, as a couple, they had enjoyed sex with Adam.
When every boy had enjoyed Adam with eye and hand, Danny took his wand and removed the mild Confundus that he had placed on Adam before the meeting.
"Now," he said, "Adam is free to go stiff, and you can already see it filling out."
As they watched, Adam's willy proceeded, through successive twitches, to rise and thicken. The purple tip emerged and Adam was soon fully erect with his penis at a forty-five degree angle.
"As you can see Adam is now ready for action. He has, in fact, the average penis length for males: five and three-quarter inches. Notice how his scrotum has tightened so his balls can't bobble about during sexual intercourse. He's going to give you a close-up view but, this time, please don't touch: we've all gone without sex for a week in preparation for tonight and, if anyone touches Adam, he'll go off like a rocket—what's called Premature Ejaculation."
Once again, Adam passed along the line.
"Hold me back!" said Caerwen when Adam stopped with his stiffie a foot from Caerwen's face.
"I'd rather hold your front!" said Peter Jones.
When Adam had come to the end of the line, he turned to Danny and said: "Quick! Get rid of it!"
Danny waved his wand and Adam detumesced and went to sit down, still naked.
"Thank you very much, Adam," said Danny and there was appreciative applause.
"Now for the next part of the treat," continued Danny.
"You've seen a typical fifteen-year-old; now for a boy who is still only fourteen, but who presents some unusual features: gentlemen, I present to you the Gay Champion of Gryffindor: Christopher Harris, known and loved by all as Sea Jay!"
There was a big cheer as Sea Jay, all smiles and floppy hair, stood up and took his place in front of the audience.
"Sea Jay is tall for his age and better-muscled than most boys. He was an early developer and actually had some pubic hair before his twelfth birthday.
"Sea Jay: would you please get them off?"
Sea Jay obliged and showed his naked body to the boys.
There were cheers and wolf-whistles.
Danny continued: "As you can see, Sea Jay now has a lot of hair in each armpit and a massive jungle of pubic hair out of which sprouts a long, curvy cock.
"But where he's unique, at Hogwarts anyway, is . . . Sea Jay: give us a twirl!"
Sea Jay turned his back to the boys and there were gasps, Oohs and a Wrap it up and send it to me! from Tintin
"Yes, boys," said Danny, "It's wonderful isn't it. The hairiest arse you'll see in a long time; and, though you'll have to take my word for it, it's incredibly silky-smooth and not concealing a single teenage pimple.
"But, if you think that's magic, wait till you see the next feature of this wonderful boy's wonderful body."
Danny waved his wand to remove the Charm.
Sea Jay's willy grew in size until it was semi-erect. He shook it about with one hand, but it obstinately refused to grow any more.
"You'd better help me, Danny," said Sea Jay, "or we'll be here till Christmas."
"Some people take longer than others to go stiff," said Danny, "but the touch of a magic hand . . ."
"And the feel of a magic bum . . ." said Sea Jay, squeezing Danny's buttocks.
After a few seconds the Jiggers were treated to the stunning sight of Sea Jay's penis, fully erect.
As he turned, presenting it alternately in profile and head-on, there were more admiring sounds.
"It's really special," said Danny "A full six and a half inches; but even with that length, the bell-end, or glans, is huge in proportion; and the base is like a tree-trunk.
"Sea Jay will pass along the line, giving you all a closer look, but, again I must ask you not to touch, as Sea Jay, too, hasn't come for a week."
Sea Jay passed along the line, giving each boy a slow twirl through three-sixty degrees so that they had comprehensive views of the magnificent pelvic area.
There were more murmurs of admiration, astonishment and gratitude.
When Sea Jay had descended from the stage, Danny announced: "And now for our first orgasm of the evening: Sea Jay is going to masturbate for us, or as it's more commonly referred to: he's going to have a wank, or bash the basilisk, or pull the pixie, and so on.
"There are many ways of wanking but the most basic is the one that Sea Jay is going to show you.
"He will moisten the glans with saliva—tonight he will use his own—and stimulate himself by rubbing the foreskin up and down over it. Take it away, Sea Jay."
Sea Jay followed Danny's description and was soon stroking hard and groaning to himself.
Danny looked at the Jiggers: some of them were on the rub, too. Caerwen and Peter had taken it one stage further and each had a hand inside the other's robe. Brian was among the rubbers, but looking more at Danny than at Sea Jay. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other.
After a week without sex, Sea Jay took only a short time to come but produced a spectacular orgasm for the lads: half a dozen great spurts, the winner landing on the floor, eight feet from Sea Jay.
When matters had subsided, Danny called Accio! Cum! and collected Sea Jay's emissions in a saucer that had thoughtfully been placed on the table.
He had to do a second Accio! Cum! to collect it all and was cross with himself: he would have to practise his multiple Accios!
He gave the saucer to the end Jigger: "Please pass it along. Anyone who wants to know what semen smells like can take a sniff."
They all had a sniff. There were a few ughs! but also a few who had more than one sniff: the very straight boy, Paul Smith, surprised Danny by hogging the saucer for a long time. Danny later guessed that this was not because Paul found it sexy, but because he wanted to remember the smell for comparison with his own when it became available in a couple of years.
After the saucer had been returned, Danny addressed them again: "That was stupendous, wasn't it? However, it wasn't typical: Sea Jay is a prodigious comer— one of the most prodigious I've met—and he hasn't had sex for a week, which means that he's missed emptying his eggs about fourteen times—is that right Sea Jay?"
"Nearer twenty-one," said Sea Jay, "But probably thirty-five for the next week!"
"Thank you for your sacrifice and thank you for a fabulous show."
Sea Jay sat down to rapturous applause.
Danny moved things along: "Next on the bill-of-fare, and before we get down to Oral Sex, we have to deal with the controversial topic of Odours and, to help us in both these areas, please welcome Hufflepuff's Gay Champion: Derek Rath."
There were cheers as Derek, popular with every house, rose, stripped and joined Danny.
Danny began: "Now if I were to ask you whether you liked the smell of boys, you'd probably feel a bit uncomfortable and tell me No. But if you looked for a true answer inside yourselves, a lot of you would think it OK, if sufficiently diluted.
"The fact is that the joy of Sex includes the joy of Smell. I have to thank Sea Jay for introducing me to the concept four months ago.
"The rôle of Smell in Sex won't be found in any books; it never gets a mention in the Daily Prophet; our parents don't discuss it at coven parties; it's a taboo subject.
"We haven't even discussed it at our JIGS sessions because it's difficult to discuss things you can't put into words. So, this being a night of education, we decided to give the Jiggers a chance of at least knowing what's possible within Gay Sex and, to help us, we have nominated a boy renowned for his various and attractive-to-some smells.
"Tonight you're not getting half measures: Derek has spent a week leading the full and active life of a typical student and he hasn't bathed or showered. He's washed his face and hands and that's it.
"He's also had three wanks. Although we've all being celibate this week, we had to allow Derek to pass a little bit of semen so that the full glory of willy-odour could build up.
"What's going to happen is: Derek's going to pass along the line like Adam and Sea Jay and it's entirely up to you what you do: you can wave him past quickly because you don't like the idea or because Derek's too ripe for you; or you can use your nose and savour whatever smells you want to.
"Some smells are stronger than others so, when you've filled your nose with a strong smell, you might not be able to detect weaker smells so easily.
"So for the full experience, we suggest that you start with the three smells that most of you haven't met before and sample them in the recommended order.
"Firstly: if you ask Derek, he'll move his willy to one side so you can smell his ballsack.
"Secondly: he can retract his foreskin so you can smell his willy.
"Thirdly: he can part his bumcheeks so you can smell his arsehole; if you do that, move your nose a little South and you'll find some variations.
"Those three are the useful ones—we all know what armpits and feet smell like—or do we? Everyone's different—"
"Oh!" came in altissimo.
It was Euan Abercrombie.
"What is it Euan?" asked Danny.
"It was nice. I was wanking and it was nice."
Euan was flushed.
"You lucky, lucky boy. You've had a pre-pubertal orgasm—a dry come. You've got two years of fun ahead of you and then it gets better."
"How'd you do it, Euan?" asked Leon Wood.
"Just like Adam."
"So did I."
"Not everyone can, I'm afraid, Leon," said Danny.
There was a murmur of excitement as each Jigger wondered whether he would be one of the lucky ones.
"To continue," said Danny, "Once you've done the big three, by all means go for the armpits and feet—or maybe the hair first: after all, if you spend the night with another boy, that'll probably be the dominant smell.
"Now take it away, Derek!"
Derek approached the end boy, who happened to be the post-orgasmic Euan.
Euan asked Derek to retract his foreskin and took a short, polite sniff before releasing Derek.
Paul Smith did the same and so did James Carter, with the vocalisation: Ugh!
Leon Wood took one sniff at Derek's penis and said: "That's rancid!"
Alexander Bell, inhaling deeply, did the big three, but passed on the rest.
Gideon Buchanan also did the big three, saying Wow! to the penis and Sexy! to the arsehole. He completed the set with hair, armpits and foot—the last involving foot and nose meeting two feet above the ground, a dual posture that caused some giggling. His concluding remark was: "I've just discovered the story of my life!"
Brian was the only boy to pass on everything. He looked hard at Danny while he was doing this.
His fellow-Slytherin, Passaro, did just the short penis-sniff.
Matthew Hinton did just the arsehole and spent a long time doing it.
Tintin Wilkes did the lot and then called: "Danny, Am I going to smell like that? I don't want to smell like that. I want my boyfriends to smell like that."
"You can shower every day, Tintin," said Danny, "and you can use some nice smellies."
Lee Shepherd and James Buckley did the whole set as a double-act, with arms around each others shoulders.
"Brilliant!" said Lee.
"Sweet!" said James.
Peter Jones and Caerwen Morgan also paired up to go for the lot, but in their case there was much giggling and whispers involving the word Adam quite often.
When Derek got down from the dais, Danny Discharmed him and started stripping himself.
By the time Danny was standing naked in front of the Jiggers and going Ta-da!, Derek's horn was pointing sky-high.
There was excited applause and cheering: they were actually going to see Derek suck Danny's willy.
"First things first," said Danny, engaging Derek in a snog.
The jiggers stirred in fascination—maybe a few of them in repulsion: few of them had seen two boys snogging before; until a few months previously, most of them hadn't even encountered the concept.
Adam got up and announced: "For obvious reasons, we need another commentator.
"Some boys who are willing and eager to have sex with other boys won't do kissing, but Danny is a hard-core gay and won't have any sex without starting with a kiss.
"As you can see, each boy is squeezing and stroking the other boy's back and bottom. Sometimes the kissing is so hot and lasts so long that the boys come during the kiss and squirt over each other."
After thirty seconds, Danny and Derek broke off.
As Derek continued to stand in profile to the Jiggers, Danny got down on his knees.
There was a greater buzz: surely Danny wasn't really going to suck that rancid willy? He had tried to persuade them about the smell, but to taste it too!
Adam introduced the action: "Normally, this would be happening on the bed, but the view of the back of someone's head bobbing about is not much fun. Nor is a chair better."
"I could do with a chair," said Danny, and Sea Jay obliged.
Danny sat down and stretched to reach Derek's private parts.
With his hands on Derek's bum, Danny slowly licked the ballsack all over.
Then he moved on to the penis, working up the shaft and finally licking the tip.
He opened his mouth and took the entire penis into his mouth.
He sucked hard for a while, then withdrew a little so he could bring his tongue into play.
Adam commented: "Danny is varying between licking Derek's tip and tickling it with tongue-flickering. He is also varying the position of the willy in his mouth and the amount of suction he applies.
"Danny is also playing with Derek's bottom and I can see a finger tickling the bumhole.
"Now Danny is moving his head backwards and forwards. This is the basic movement for Oral Sex. Danny is being very careful not to scratch Derek with his teeth.
"The tongue is still working when it can. I can see that Danny's got a finger up Derek's bum—not very far; if they were lying down he might have a finger right up and use finger and thumb to stimulate inside and outside of Derek's bumhole.
"Now Derek is getting excited. Danny's taken his free hand and is using it to wank Derek's shaft while still sucking the tip. This gives Derek additional pleasure as he approaches orgasm and prevents the hard thrusts, which you can now observe, pushing his penis to the back of Danny's throat and causing him to choke."
Further commentary was suspended as Derek's quivering midriff, grunting and cries of Yeah! . . . Oh, Go on! accompanied what was plainly a super orgasm.
Danny felt Derek's three or four squirts form themselves into a little pool at the back of his throat. He swallowed the pool and gently sucked the last few drops out of Derek.
As the two boys separated, Adam said: "Danny has decided to swallow Derek's cum. Some boys don't like swallowing and spit it out. There's no right or wrong about it: just do as you like, and your partner should understand.
Danny stood up and kissed Derek as the onlookers clapped and cheered.
Sea Jay now stepped forward as MC: "We come now to Bumming, or, more properly, Anal Intercourse. This act is the one that is most commonly associated with gay life; yet, as we learned during our JIGS meetings, millions of gays around the world have a fully-satisfying sex-life without recourse to it.
"You may know some other popular terms: Buggery, Chocolate Wanding, Brooming the Butt, Pinning the Tail on the Dragon, Creaming the Cauldron, et cetera.
"Ah, here's Adam, fully armed again, as you can see. First of all he's going to loosen Danny's ringpiece—Danny tells me that you all know the theory so I won't explain what's going on."
Danny bent over the bed, allowing Adam to work with Charm, ointment and fingers to relax the hole.
When both boys were satisfied, Danny got onto the bed and lay on his side.
Adam lay behind him and whispered: "You look gorgeous tonight."
"Shut up, ninny!" whispered Danny, "You'll come too soon. Think of something else. Think of Madam Pince vomiting."
"Ugh! I won't be coming for another week, if I think of that."
"This position," Sea Jay was saying, "is known as the Spoons, or Fetal, position. The ringpiece is at its most relaxed and when there's a tight fit, this is the best position for initial entry."
Danny stretched and rolled full-length onto his stomach. Adam lay on top of him.
"This position," said Sea Jay, "is the Pillow-biting or Squashed-fly position. It is the most common position for homosexual rape."
Danny resumed his original position, bending over the bed, his feet on the floor. Adam, bent over on top, supporting his weight with his arms.
"This is the Schoolboy's Treat position," said Adam, "so-called because it allows a boy to do his homework while being buggered by his teacher; useful when there is a flat surface available."
Danny moved backwards, still bent over double and with his hands on the edge of the bed. Adam crouched behind, also supporting his weight with his hands.
"This position," said Adam, "is the Kitchen or Garden position; used where there are no convenient flat surfaces.
Danny rose and stood against the wall, bracing himself with his hands. Adam stood behind him, with his arms around Danny and positioned his willy against Danny's hole.
"This," said Adam, "is the Brace position; also known as the Standing Stab or the Backs-to-the-wall-oh-too-late position; popular in dark, crowded dancehalls; also popular in toilet cubicles, though there are two other lavatorial positions which you can imagine for yourselves. When there is a height disparity, as here, legs need to be bent, as Adam's are at present, and the effect is comical, as well as erotic."
Danny now positioned himself at the edge of the bed, lay on his back and raised his legs high in the air.
"Now we come to the business: Danny has adopted the M or W position and—hang about Adam: just a few more seconds—as you can see the first thing you notice is Danny's alluring little bumhole peeping from the middle of his alluring little bottom.
"It's no wonder that Adam's a bit keen—and notice, by the way, that Adam has produced a lot of pre-cum."
Sea Jay touched a fingertip to Adam's willy and drew out a thread of the sticky, clear fluid.
Adam took this as his dimittal and approached Danny.
He bent over, engaged his penis and got it in without difficulty.
He immediately started a slow, restrained thrusting.
Sea Jay continued his Commentary: "This position allows the best possible penetration and Adam is now deep, deep inside Danny.
"There is also the emotional pleasure of being face-to-face. It is common for people to snog in this position—though not with the current height difference, obviously.
"The spectators, unfortunately, don't get to see much of the front line, but to compensate, they get a splendid view of a pair of quivering buttocks—in this case Adam's, his bum being nearly as pretty as his face.
"And Adam is enjoying himself and getting quite excited!"
Adam was indeed getting excited: his stroke rate increased and his grunts grew louder: ugh . . . Ugh . . . UGH! . . .
Then came his celebratory DANEEEEEEEE! and things wound down.
After a few seconds, a panting Adam withdrew his willy and sat down next to his friend.
Danny strained to roll forward and emitted a loud fart and a gush of Adam's semen.
This caused happy laughter, after which Sea Jay said: "A truly dazzling performance from the JIGS leaders. I'm sure we'd—"
He broke off to look at the Jiggers.
Everyone else followed his eyes and gasped.
Two boys were snogging.
They were Matthew Hinton and Tintin Wilkes.
Nobody could believe it: big, blond, butch Matthew had his tongue down Tintin's throat.
Sea Jay smiled and called: "A big round of applause for Danny and Adam—and Tintin and Matthew!"
There was much cheering and the Jiggers looked in some sort of Heaven: they had actually seen proper Sex and the miracle of Matthew and Tintin had added what seemed like a blessing on the whole evening.
Sea Jay continued his compère duty: "That's just about it, Jiggers, but our beloved fons et origo hasn't yet been allowed to spurt, so Danny: Discharm and prepare for action."
As soon as Danny removed the Self-Charm, his willy twitched, rose and was suddenly rock-hard.
There was the biggest cheer of the night.
"Behold the source of our inspiration," said Sea Jay, "Five glorious inches—and when I met it in August, it was four glorious inches; now it's as big as Derek's, even though Derek is a foot taller . . . and talking of Derek . . ."
While Danny was magicking and fingering Derek, Sea Jay announced: "As a grandstand finale, we're going to demonstrate what can happen when a few boys gather together . . . Derek, are you ready? . . . Allez-oop!"
Derek got onto the bed, rested his head on a pillow and raised his legs exposing his I-want-to-be-shagged bumhole.
Danny lay on top of Derek and pushed his five glorious inches fully inside Derek.
Adam knelt with a knee on each side of Derek, who took Adam's willy in his mouth.
There was another stir among the Jiggers: Derek was sucking a willy that was surely smeared in Danny-poo.
Danny, in the meantime, was eagerly smelling Adam's bumhole: would it be a Category Confusion to describe the rich mixture of odours as being as pretty as Adam's face? he thought.
The last to join the party was Sea Jay who stood on the bed with his legs astride Derek's head. Adam took his penis in his mouth.
Then the boys began to move: loins thrust; tongues wiggled; mouths sucked and slurped; hands roamed all over the place.
Unsurprisingly, Danny was the first to come: with his tongue in Adam's rectum he pumped what felt a gigantic amount of cum into Derek.
The other three boys soon followed: Sea Jay spurting a good aftermath into Adam's mouth; Derek coming in Adam's hand just as Adam's spurt hit the back of his throat.
They didn't have any fireworks, but Adam found the next-best thing: he tilted his head back and blew out the content of his mouth towards the heavens whence it fell, spattering the four revellers.
The party was over and Danny gave a final address: "Thanks for your attention Jiggers. Hope you've enjoyed it. You could see that we certainly did.
"You may want to kiss each other in celebration of friendship and the four of us will be waiting at the door ready to accept a kiss or a handshake from anyone who offers.
"Don't feel constrained: everyone is entitled to his own preferences.
"And finally, of course, a Happy Christmas and see you Next Year!"
There was a big cheer.
Danny chatted to the other three. He didn't like to stare, but it seemed there was a gratifying amount of physicality in the goodbyes that the Jiggers gave each other as they left in twos and threes.
Caerwen, Peter and Tintin were the first to leave. Danny got a wet one from each of them.
He got handshakes from Brian and Nathan Passaro.
He got a wet one from James Buckley and the same plus a cuddle and bum-squeeze from Lee.
There was a firm handshake from Leon, a kiss-and-cuddle with brief tongue-insertion from Matthew and something like a sexual assault from Gideon.
"Come to Hufflepuff," whispered Gideon, as he squeezed Danny's bum pushing Danny against a hard bump.
"Better not," laughed Danny, "Absolutely no favouritism."
That left the four remaining Gryffindors, who loyally gave Danny four warm kiss-and-cuddles.
"Come back with us," said James Carter, "We're all in Gryffindor."
"No; Security!" said Danny, "Two groups of two, please."
The four elder lads Transfigured, Discharmed and tidied the room.
Kissing goodbye to Adam and Derek, Danny walked with Sea Jay to Gryffindor common room.
The usual suspects were missing: Hermione must have been holding one of her meetings.
Danny sat snuggled up to Sea Jay as he told Jonathan Neil all about it.
What Sea Jay didn't tell Jonny was what he didn't know: that Danny had spent the evening raised on a golden cloud which existed because he was with Brian Hudson.
— CHAPTER SEVENTEEN —PolyjuiceThe next day found Danny disoriented: the disappointment over Slytherin's Secrets and the consignment of the Jiggers' Treat to History were fighting a feeling that something special was going on with Brian.
He had made no progress in his search for a Password Cracker and, as for Corporeal Impersonation—that seemed hopeless.
On the other hand, it would soon be Christmas: he would be with his family and there was not any urgency about the Slytherin's Secrets project.
It was to be the last Creevey night. Danny and Dennis ganged up on Colin, finally persuading him that, having gone a whole term without doing anything hot with Harry, despite seeing quite a lot of him, it was time for Polyjuice.
Danny stole a lock of Harry's hair, hoping that there was no foreign material, but when Dennis transformed in Classroom 3E, it was a naked, authentic Harry that appeared.
"Coo, Harry hasn't changed!" said Dennis.
"Fifth-year and he hasn't changed!" said Colin.
"He's a very young fifth-year," said Danny, "Dennis, hold still!"
Dennis was trying to look at himself and his twists and wriggles were making it difficult for Colin and Danny.
"Danny, look at his arse!" screamed Colin.
It was a peach of an arse and the two boys peered and squeezed and kissed for a long time.
Then the rest of Harry's body was subjected to the same visual, tactile and osculatory investigations.
Dennis interrupted things with: "I feel randy, Col! Come on, let's be doing it!"
So the magic moment arrived: Colin surrendered his damson to his brother, which was proper; and to Harry Potter which was also proper.
Though pre-pubescent, Harry had a respectable willy—good enough to excite Colin to a quick orgasm.
When Dennis stopped his pulsations, Danny took his place, and he too came to a climax quickly—a glorious this-is-my-brother climax.
Then it was time for more Harry-inspections. Sad to say, there were no odours except a tiny hint of under-arm.
"Did you come, Dennis?" asked Colin.
"Not really: it felt good but I didn't get a dry orgasm like I usually do."
"That's probably why Harry's always said no to me and has never looked at you that way, Col," said Danny.
"Perhaps we should have waited," said Colin, "I might have been his first if we'd waited."
"You're forgetting the famous Damian," said Danny.
"Oh, yeah. Perhaps he only likes men."
Danny laughed: "Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps. Perhaps he wants another shag."
Harry was, indeed, stiff again and this time was sandwiched: while he was enjoying Colin, Danny was ramming him in the rear.
They had time for some more kissing, licking, snogging and sucking before Dennis resumed his own form.
They spent the rest of the evening making up a Polyjuice song, and went to sleep happy, the three of them curled up in Colin's bed.
Saturday night was, as usual, an early night for the third-year dormitory.
Danny's proposal that the Creeveys should join them again for an end-of-term extravaganza was accepted with enthusiasm.
"And a mystery guest?" he asked.
After a chorus of Who? Who? Who? Danny responded: "To wit, to wit, to wit: wait and see."
When they answered the knock, the four naked boys were amazed to see that Harry Potter was with the Creeveys, but the quick-witted David Ward noticed Danny's absence and enlightened the others.
There was a frenzy of groping before Colin was able to start the Polyjuice Song:
Colin: Tell me, pretty Harry, are there any in your dorm like you?
Harry: There are a few, kind sir, but naughty boys, and randy too.
Colin: Then tell me, pretty Harry, what these naughty little boys can do?
Harry: Kind sir, their arses are delicious, and their penises auspicious.
Colin: Then take a little walk with me
And then I can see
What a most particular boy should be.
Harry: I may love you too well to let you go
And shag the lovely boys, you know
Colin: Well don't mind Harry dear, you'll see I'll only want but you
Harry: It's not quite fair to them if you told them that you were true
Colin: I won't care a pin for the fifth-years if you love me
Harry: What would you say if I said I liked you well?
Colin: I'd suck you off
Harry: On bended knee?
Colin: On bended knee
Harry: If I shagged you would you tell me what I ought to do
To keep you all mine alone to always be true to me?
If I shagged you would it be a silly thing to do?
For I must shag someone
Colin: Then why not me?
Harry: Yes, I must shag someone really, and it might as well be you
Tell me, gentle Colin, are there any in your dorm like you?
Colin: There are a few, sweet Harry, hotter boys you never knew
Harry: Then tell me, gentle boy, the things these very rakish fellows do
Colin: Dear boy, they shag the boys too freely,
And it's not the same boy twice
Harry: Then take me round and let them show
For an hour or so
How such fellows can really go.
Colin: I never introduce them to a boy, I intend
To be my most particular friend.
Harry: I won't mind what they say, no boy would ever bugger me.
Colin: It's not worth risking it, I know with them you won't agree.
Harry: I won't want to know them if you will do the shagging.
Colin: Of course I will try, for we're doing very well.
Harry: I'll suck you off.
Colin: On bended knee?
Harry: On bended knee
If I shagged you would you tell me what I ought to do
To keep you all mine alone, to always to be true to me?
If I shagged you would it be a silly thing to do?
For I must shag someone
Colin: Then why not me?
Harry: Yes, I must shag someone, and it might as well be you.
This little masterpiece went down so well that it had to be encored.
Time and horniness prevented a third rendition, and Danny was subjected to a thorough going-over by the occupants of the dormitory before Harry vanished and Danny was back.
As they had once before, the seven lads kipped down together on the big mattress and, as before, the three brothers were the closest and tightest.
Another wonderful night.
On the last Wednesday of term, the four Gay Champions were to spend the night together in Hufflepuff.
Danny was invited, but declined, saying that the night should always be remembered as the Gay Champions' special meeting.
He had other things to do, anyway: he had recently had sex with Harry Potter's body and while being Harry Potter's body. He thought this might be an omen and sought out Harry in his dormitory.
Sad to say, neither Harry nor Ron wanted to play, though Ron was sporting a whopping erection inside his pyjamas.
He went back to his dormitory and slept until one o'clock when he put on his dressing gown and set off Disillusioned for Slytherin.
Both the password and the Juvenile Charm that made the entrance think he was a genuine Slytherin still worked: he had been worried that the false alarms set off on the last hunt for Slytherin's Secrets would have led to tighter security.
He found his way to Brian's dormitory without difficulty, discovering on the way that five Slytherins had the privilege of their own study/bedroom, and that Malfoy was one of them.
Brian was lying curled up on his right side. His expression in sleep was one of worry.
Danny created his island of isolation and sat down on Brian's bed.
He took one of Brian's hands and kissed if then, when this had no effect, kissed Brian's lips.
The disruption to his breathing woke Brian who murmured: "Danny!"
"What-ho, Brian!" said Danny, loudly.
"Shh!" said an alarmed Brian.
"It's alright, mate. Nobody can see or hear us. Do you mind if I slither into bed with you?"
"Yeah, I mean no," said Brian, opening his arms to welcome Danny.
Danny got in and said: "I came to wish you a Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas to you too, Danny."
"Will you be at Wagensburg?"
"Sometimes, but I have to spend most of the time with my uncle and aunt—they're called Hudson too. There's a long story to confuse any agents of the Dark Lord."
"What's that?"
"Boring; kiss me."
They kissed long and hard: so long and hard that Danny squirted on Brian's pyjama-bottoms.
Brian moved his hand to feel the wetness. He sniffed the hand and licked it.
"Not as much as Sea Jay's."
"He's a year older; I might catch up. Does it matter?"
"No."
"Can I suck yours, please?"
"Yeah."
Danny dived down to give Brian a good sucking and wanking. It would be nice if Brian could have pre-pubescence comes.
After a while, he realised that Brian was fast asleep and decided to leave him to it.
He knew of another lonely boy and made his way back to Gryffindor.
On one of the landings he saw no less a person than Professor McGonagall; she saw him too and challenged him.
He resisted the temptation to query her on her intrusion into the boys' private quarters because she was accompanied by Harry and Ron.
Hoping nothing serious was amiss, he was soon snuggled up to Jonathan Neill.
On the next day, word was that Harry and the Weasleys were absent because Mr Weasley was ill.
Hermione was tight-lipped, but Danny wondered whether it was Voldemort-related.
He had not time to think deeply on the subject because, after a round of cheerful festivities and happy see yer next years, he found himself on Friday morning flying with his mother and father to the Isle of Wight.
— CHAPTER EIGHTEEN —ChristmasAunt Rose was Mrs Jorrocks' sister. She and Uncle George farmed a good number of acres—pigs, cows, wheat, sprouts and a good assortment of Muggle and wizard greenhouse produce.
Danny loved being with his parents and the rest of the family. He loved playing with his little cousins. He loved Christmas and the fact that Voldemort was pushed totally into the background.
By Boxing Day, however, he felt the need for a change of scene and an alternative to wanking.
He got permission to visit the Creeveys, but called in on Dot and Alice on the way.
He knew Piers was at his parents, but, unless Dot and Alice were off on their own jaunts, Danny would get to hear second-hand how he was doing.
At the traditional time of midday, he rang the bell and was let in by Dot.
Alice—looking jaded and scraggy—joined them and, after learning that Danny's visit was a quickie, suggested that they lunch at the pub.
There he learned about life in Fulham.
From the first, the three of them had got on wonderfully.
Dot and Alice had tried to mother Piers, but he told them that he had been a sponger and a bully all his life and was bent on reforming; he would not allow himself to be spoiled.
Perhaps it was Piers' work-ethic that nudged Dot and Alice into chasing up more jobs—despite the influx of Jorrocks money.
They had speedily become a happy, busy, integrated household.
They had liked Grant, too, when they met him, though they did not get to know him well because of his permanent urge to bum Piers.
It was two days after Grant's visit that Piers had demanded, and obtained, sex from his landladies.
Danny knew that Piers was in love with Dot and mentally blessed him for treating Dot and Alice as equals.
For some weeks, then, they had settled into a happy way of sexual living: they would sleep three-in-a-bed two or three times a week, but, when Alice brought home a bit of Rough Trade, Dot and Piers would enjoy their own private night of passion.
At the pub, Danny and the girls had a good lunch and got slightly tiddly, with Alice's Christmas hangover forgotten.
Back home, Danny pointed out that Piers now knew what mature men looked like naked while he, Danny, did not.
This was unfair: surely he should be allowed a look . . . just a look.
Perhaps Dot and Alice rationalised that they owed Danny a favour because of his father's generosity.
Such sophistries were forgotten as looks became touches and, soon, there was a hot-sex session going on in the back room.
Danny was so taken with the girls' company that he stayed for dinner—a dinner he helped prepare, though it was quite simple, being, inevitably, turkey curry.
After such a satisfactory day, Danny had no urge to leave and spent the night subbing for Piers in the master-bedroom threesome.
It was a good job that the Creevey visit had been planned as a surprise.
As it happened, when Danny got back on the next day, he learned that, on Boxing Day, Colin had used the Muggle phone to invite Danny to the Creevey New-Year party.
He phoned Colin and told him that New Year was for Family, but how about the thirtieth?
So the penultimate night of the year saw the three brothers reuniting in a Merry Christmas Sexfest—all the merrier for Colin's bum being newly open for business—and doing a roaring trade.
On the first Saturday of the new year, they went to visit a female cousin of Mrs Jorrocks who had been close to her since childhood, even though she was a Muggle.
This cousin had married another Muggle, the son of refugees from the border of the Muscovy and Holy Roman empires and they had produced a son of their own.
This son was, of course, the chief focus of Danny's interest.
He was called Mark and, being two years older than Danny, sharing with him the same dark hair but, surprisingly, having been blessed with a pair of dazzlingly blue eyes, was an enticing sexual prospect.
Mark had always possessed a dominating character and Danny was more than willing to be dominated by such an attractive, and presumably physically developed, boy.
On meeting the now-fifteen-year-old in the flesh, Danny was not disappointed: Mark seemed to Danny to be Sex personified.
They left the grown-ups to a boring gossip session and went to Mark's room to look at his Christmas stuff.
It seemed to be all electronic: computer games which Danny thought were much less exciting than real life; CD's of rehashed baby-tunes and techno-gimcrackery; a cassette recorder so that Mark could make compilations of his favourites.
Danny felt guilty for patronising Mark by not telling him what a heap of junk it was.
After the six of them had enjoyed an evening meal and a jolly family get-together, it turned out that Danny and Mark were to share a bed.
This was a definite plus, but heavily diminished by Mark's take on the situation: Don't try any of your queer stuff or I'll smash your face in.
Mrs. Jorrocks had, in the past and with much motherly pride, boasted of her son's gayness to her Muggle cousins who had assumed:
(1) Danny's tender years implied that he had no sex urge to be gay with—hence gayness was his own subversive choice.
(2) Danny's sole aim in life was to have his revolting way with any likely male—including their only son Mark.
(3) Gayness implied, not just second-best, but subhuman.
These thoughts were tempered by the fact that Mark and his parents genuinely liked their relatives, their wealth being a pleasant extra; but Mark had picked up a them-and-us attitude from his parents—and, indeed, from his friends and general Muggle culture.
Danny was as randy as he could remember and had, indeed, been intending to try some queer stuff with Mark who was an extremely attractive boy. It looked as though Danny wouldn't be having his revolting way that night.
There was an additional reason for Danny's disappointment: discounting his adoptive brothers, the Creeveys, Mark was the nearest Danny could ever come to Incest.
Things looked more hopeful, though when, at one o'clock and after finishing the evening with party-games, they went to bed.
Mark wore only a pair of navy blue undies. He was flushed from the lager that he had been allowed and slurred as he pronounced: "that's my side and that's yours," accompanying the words with a fingered indication of a line bisecting the bed.
He got under the duvet and appeared to go straight to sleep.
Danny emulated Mark and eschewed pyjamas, wearing only a pair of undies advertising some Muggle characters called Power Rangers.
He lay for some time on "his" side of the bed listening carefully to Mark's steady breathing.
It was quite a big bed but the mattress had suffered from years of single occupancy and dipped in the middle. Danny was pleased at this: despite Mark's distaste, two sleeping boys were bound to end up pressed together in the pit.
As though stirring in his sleep, Danny stretched a leg and rested his foot against Mark's. There was no reaction: Mark lay on his back, his breaths coming with absolute regularity.
Danny gave it a couple more minutes then shifted his leg to lie on top of Mark's; then he moved his left arm and cuddled Mark's naked torso. Still no reaction.
Slowly—ever so slowly—he moved his arm downward and rested it on Mark's underpants. Mark had a stiffie which Danny explored through the cloth. It was well-grown—five or six inches—and dagger-shaped. The base was really thick and Danny gave it a squeeze, still eliciting no reaction.
After a while Danny decided that it was safe to investigate bare flesh. His actions so far could be explained away as tossings and turnings in his sleep, but a hand inside Mark's underpants would show a homosexual impulse which could not be justified—waking or sleeping.
The waistband was tight so Danny used his left hand to raise it slowly, taking care not to snag any of Mark's pubes.
His right hand closed around Mark's small glans; then, reaching down he found some loose foreskin: Mark was not circumcised, thank goodness.
He moved his hand up and gently squeezed the glans then withdrew his hand and smelt his thumb and first two fingers. There was no smell.
He replaced his hand and gripped the shaft, feeling the thick base and the steady taper. He made a ring of thumb and forefinger and, gripping Mark's willy an inch from its base, gave it a few wanking strokes.
Mark stirred slightly and Danny quickly, but stealthily, withdrew his hand and moved away from his cousin.
He took some moments to gauge Mark's breathing. It was as deep and regular as it had been when Danny had started fiddling.
Once again Danny moved his hand over and grasped Mark's willy—this time through the cloth. Holding it near the base, he started a gentle masturbation.
Mark gave a pelvic thrust and then lay still, his breathing unchanged.
Danny continued wanking for a minute, expecting at any moment to have some Mark-cum available for his delight. But, after that first thrust, Mark lay placidly showing no reaction to Danny's efforts.
Sleep suddenly caught Danny and he rolled away from Mark and into oblivion.
It must only have been a quick doze because Danny woke with Mark still in the same position and breathing as smoothly as ever.
Once again he stretched out his hand, felt a stiff willy and rubbed it gently. Once again Mark gave one quick thrust before resuming his comatose position. Once again Danny fell into a doze.
This happened two more times before Danny tried an approach from the south: he slid his hand through the loose bottom of Mark's undies and felt a pair of smooth, spherical balls under a tight sack. He tested his fingers for any odour, again without success.
He felt the balls again before moving round to Mark's bumhole. He worked his finger around a surprisingly rough and crinkly periphery before pressing his forefinger a quarter of an inch inside. He felt the sphincter muscles contract, but this must have been reflexive as the rest of Mark showed no change.
There was no odour on his fingers and Danny resumed his ministrations outside the underpants. He was dreamily wanking away at Mark, when he experienced a sort of mental thump followed by a feeling that his body had turned to water.
For a moment he thought it was a case of the trots, but it turned out to be something much nicer: he was having an orgasm—and not just a half-cock, dribbly one such as he had experienced in the past, but a five-star, copper-bottomed, mind-blowing, full-scale orgasm.
He felt a spurt of semen and, as he stroked Mark, another spurt . . . then another . . . then another.
It seemed that each stroke he gave to Mark resulted in more cum from Danny.
When things had finally quietened down he withdrew his hand and moved away from Mark. He would have liked to give the boy a post-coital kiss, but decided not to push his luck.
It was just like the twin Whish courts: he had wanked Mark off but had caused himself to come.
With a mind full of wonder at what had happened and a relaxed body, Danny slipped away into a deep and lasting sleep.
When he awoke, it was still dark. The boys were facing opposite directions but the force of gravity had done its job and bony back was pressing against bony back.
Danny felt a sense of joy at the achievement of a full orgasm without any physical stimulation.
He shifted away from Mark and turned towards him to assess his breathing.
The act of turning brought his wetness to Danny's attention: he must have come loads and loads. He reached down inside his pants and felt a sticky mess; as he moved his hands out, the bedclothes wafted a strong smell of cum.
He listened to Mark, who seemed to be asleep but was breathing in a different way: irregular breaths, some shallow, some deep, occasional snorts. Danny wondered if Mark was dreaming.
He reprised his earlier legwork without any response then inched a finger from Mark's hip-bone to the tip of his willy. There was a small sticky patch—probably pre-cum but, to be sure, he moved his finger inside the pants, collected some of the stickiness and tasted it: yes, pre-cum.
He gently grasped Mark's willy as before, waited for a reaction then tried a wank. Mark turned and gave, not just a pelvic thrust, but a jerk of his whole body against Danny.
That was more like it!
Danny started wanking Mark in earnest, but the story was the same as earlier: after the initial promise, there was no more thrusting, no moaning, no come.
He gave up after a few seconds, took his hand away and slept.
The rest of the night passed as a slightly-enhanced replay of the first half: several times Danny woke and clasped Mark's willy through his underpants; each time, Mark pushed jerkily against Danny and then froze except for two occasions when his hand reached in the direction of, but stopping short of, Danny's pleasure-garden.
Danny decided that Mark's subconscious mind put a brake on his own hand because it knew that the hand on his willy was male.
Danny felt slightly annoyed because he reckoned that Mark's mind was, not merely heterosexual, but conditioned by homophobia.
It was people like Mark who had so blighted the younger teen years of people like Piers and Grant.
Then he felt more understanding: it wasn't Mark, or his parents; it was Muggle culture.
There was a grey light and, abandoning hope of further progress, Danny moved well away from Mark and fell asleep.
He was innocently clutching the edge of the mattress to avoid rolling into the pit when he was awoken by Mark stirring.
The boy got up to go for a pee.
I bet he's having a wank too, the sod! thought Danny, but the sound of a flushing loo came too quickly for that.
He lifted the sheets. There was a smell of cum. He hoped Mark would not pick it up; then he thought he would attack at his own weakest point—the Goebbels Principle Muggles called it for some unknown reason.
Mark came in and, seeing that Danny's eyes were open, offered: "Good morning, Daniel; sleep OK?"
"Yeah, fine thanks; you?"
"Yeah," said Mark.
He noticed that Mark's erection had disappeared.
Danny yawningly said: "I had a wet dream . . . unless you wanked me off in my sleep."
"Don't be disgusting! . . . I'm not a queer . . . I mean gay."
"I believe you; what time is it?"
"Half eight; no-one'll be up for ages."
Mark got back into bed, which Danny thought at least implied something less than revulsion."
They lay still for a bit. Danny closed his eyes: he had some sleep to make up.
Then Mark spoke: "Daniel . . .?"
Danny opened his eyes. Mark was staring at the ceiling.
"Hello, Mark," he said.
"What do . . . I mean . . . I always wondered: what do gays actually do?"
"I don't know about other gays, but I have wanks and wet dreams."
"But you go to a boarding school . . . don't you ever do things with the other boys?"
"Good lord no! We're fifty percent girls with a strong hetero ethic."
"Then haven't you ever done anything?"
"Not with other boys—or girls for that matter."
"Then how do you know you're gay?"
"I just find boys better in every way and I know that when I do get round to sharing sex, I want it to be with boys."
"Isn't there any gay sex at your school?"
"There's rumours and dirty talk and I think some of the boys wank each other off—they can't get near the girls' dormitories."
"Have you ever wanked anyone off?"
"I told you: no."
"All this talk about wanking's given me a helluva horn."
"Mm," said Danny and, turning his back, closed his eyes; he loved his cousin, but he was not going to make it easy for him.
There was silence and then he felt Mark rolling towards him.
Mark tapped his back.
"Daniel . . .?"
"Mm?"
"You can wank me off if you like."
Danny opened his eyes and turned to Mark saying: "I know we're family and love each other, but you don't need to do that for me."
"It's not for you . . . I mean I'd like it."
"Nonsense you don't like gays; you wouldn't enjoy it."
"I would. Please Daniel."
A straight Muggle begging a gay wizard for sex: he would have to apply to Voldemort for a medal.
One more twist: he closed his eyes and said: "No; I'm gonna have some more kip."
Mark picked up Danny's hand and put it on those so-familiar underpants saying: "Please Daniel; just this once."
"OK," said Danny, "As a cousinly favour."
He pulled back the bedclothes and drew down Mark's undies enough to expose a stiffie that was awash with pre-cum. Where did he get it all from?
He smeared the clear fluid about and started rubbing Mark, not at the base as he had done for most of the night, but by pulling the foreskin over the knob in the time-honoured fashion.
He had expected Mark to close his eyes and think of females; instead his eyes were open and he was looking at Danny's face. Even the straightest boys enjoy gay sex once they get their head round it thought Danny.
It took only a dozen strokes for Mark to come—and a good come it was: a splash to his navel; one to his nipple; another to his navel; two onto his pubes followed by a substantial dribble—all accompanied by a delightful willy-throbbing which Danny could feel under his hand.
As they lay still, Danny thought about licking up Mark's cum, but didn't want to lose the moral high ground—say nothing of disgusting his cousin; in any case, Mark reached for a sock and, touchingly, wiped Danny's hand before dealing with his own body.
"Do you . . . er . . . want me to do you?" he asked.
"No, I don't really feel like it," said Danny untruthfully, "I just need some sleep."
He leant over and gave Mark a peck on the lips, then, without waiting for any reaction, turned his back and was soon in dreamland.
They were awoken by a knock on the door and Mark's father calling: "Come on, lazy-bones; it's eleven o'clock."
They were pressed close together and Danny felt—perhaps wishful thinking—that Mark was reacting rather more than necessary to the dip in the bed.
Danny went first to the bathroom.
He looked at himself in the mirror and thought: Daniel Timothy Jorrocks, you are a cunning, lying, manipulative sex-maniac!
And his reflection answered: That's the nicest thing anyone ever said to me!
They had a jolly Sunday dinner and the two boys went for a kickabout in the garden, later joined by the two fathers, who were showing off a little.
Afterwards Mark's father drove them to the station. When their train came, Danny bravely took a kiss from Mark's mum and resignedly took manly handshakes from Mark and his dad. Mark looked rather wistful. Next time he'll be up for the full works thought Danny.
"How was our security, Daniel?" asked Mrs Jorrocks.
"Perfect," said Danny, "though Dad gave me a good laugh when he called the Muggle Prime Minister Mr Fudge."
"Yes, but they all thought it was just a very suitable nickname," laughed Mrs Jorrocks.
Piers was back at work and college so Danny rang up and arranged a visit on Friday night.
Things began very politely with the landladies insisting on preparing a celebratory dinner so as to give the two friends time to be together, but when the demands of Lust became insupportable, they agreed that the girls should be given the opportunity of watching.
As might have been expected, there was a repeat of Danny's previous visit to Fulham: watching led to touching and soon there was a full-scale orgy going on in Piers' bedroom.
Danny thought that Piers had started speaking with just a touch of campness. He wondered whether his family had noticed.
After a late dinner and more physical stuff, Piers and Danny lay together in Piers' bed.
"Are you happy?" asked Danny.
"After what we've just done? You know I'm happy!" said Piers.
"No, I meant in general: life, training, college, living with the girls, you know."
"Happier than I ever dreamt of."
Danny was also happy—happy for his friends. It was a curious ménage, he thought; someone ought to write a novel about it.
He grilled Piers about his training at Jorrocks and Company and asked him about the music machine he had been wearing when he arrived home.
"Don't the students at your school have Personal Stereos?" asked Piers.
"Some of them do, but I've never got into it. My cousin Mark is an expert, though."
Piers got out of bed to fetch the little machine. It was larger than normal because it had Record as well as Playback.
He explained the workings: there was a tape you could record on and play back through the headphones or via a Hi-fi system. There were input sockets for connection to a Hi-fi system or microphone.
"So, if I wanted, I could record myself singing over someone else's song, and ruining it in the process!" laughed Piers.
"You can record your voice!" said Danny.
"Yeah, if I had a Mike."
Danny had had a Great Idea: even Salazar Slytherin wouldn't have foreseen the magic of electricity. Surely this was a way to extract his Secrets.
The next morning, Piers took Danny to a posh department store in the West End where they selected a top-of-the-range personal stereo with built-in microphone.
Danny bought plenty of spares—tapes and batteries were unobtainable in Hogsmeade.
Piers went to see Danny off at Waterloo station.
He gave Danny an unabashed snog as they said goodbye.
People change—and change quickly, thought Danny; in Piers' case, very much for the better.
— CHAPTER NINETEEN —ElectricityAlthough it was not a formal feast like the first meal of the school year, Sunday night was just as celebratory and noisy as students told of their Christmas parties, presents, journeys and games.
Danny sat between the Creeveys, gossiping with all within earshot—this meant listening to girls for most of the time.
He was on the lookout for Brian Hudson and Adrian Pucey and had half a benevolent eye left over to clock the gay couples.
His interests coincided as he saw Adrian enter hand-in-hand with Virion White. Adrian gave Danny a smile and Danny returned a blown kiss.
Danny was pleased: after losing six years, they were now a public couple. The body language told him that this was not a reunion: they must have spent time together during the holiday.
Sea Jay and Jonathan were having a reunion. They had eyes for no-one else and kept touching each other throughout the meal.
Other couples appeared to have remained together: Lee Shepherd and James Buckley; Adam Watts and James Poxon; Jimmy Millar and Ian Berry; Andrew Merryweather and Gordon Twist; Caerwen Morgan and Peter Jones, who kissed each other briefly before separating to join their houses.
There where a few new couples holding hands or appearing to share an intimacy closer than friendship.
Then Danny saw who he had really been looking out for: he felt the familiar hot-and-cold sensation as Brian Hudson entered, caught Danny's eye briefly and walked to the Slytherin table.
After dinner, Danny ignored the various importunings and made for Adrian.
He muttered: "Give me a few minutes in the room and then you can concentrate on Virion—unless you'd like me to make a third."
Adrian smiled: "I've already made that suggestion and Virion told me it would be highly improper."
They made their separate ways to Classroom 3E and had a kiss-and-cuddle before Adrian said: "Danny, Virion and I haven't seen each other since Tuesday and I'd better keep my balls full, but, if you want yours emptied . . ."
"I didn't bring you here for sex, Adrian, though I must say I'm delighted that you're being open about it—out, as the Muggles say.
"Yeah, we talked about it and decided not to muck about. We told our parents: his were OK about it and let us share a bed; mine went up the wall. Still, I've done it, and you only have to do it once in a lifetime.
"So, Danny, if it's not Sex, it must be the Secrets and I really think old Salazar's stopped all the holes."
"Don't you believe it: Adrian, do you know what a Tape Recorder is?"
"Of course: it's a sort of Muggle music thing."
"And a Microphone?"
"Er . . . wait a minute . . . is it a speech muffler?"
Danny explained and Adrian saw the significance at once: "So we hide it in the study-room and clear off and it records everything the SSK's say."
"That's it; now, behold."
Danny took the device from inside his robe and placed it on the desk.
They tested it and then practised depressing the Record button by magic.
When they were sure that Adrian could do it blind, Danny asked: "Where can you hide it?"
"Under the table; stuck by magic, and, to be safe, an Invisibility Charm."
"Excellent! There's an hour's record time, so switch it on well before the meeting and stay well-clear."
"They parted with a kiss. Adrian went off to empty four testicles and Danny to empty at least two."
As it turned out, Danny helped to empty eight testicles that evening.
There were lessons on the next morning and it was decided that a scaled-down Saturday night would be the thing.
The third-years went upstairs early and immediately clustered around David Ward who, lying on his back, stroked and ogled by his friends, produced a couple of drops of cum.
Stephen followed with a standing wank leading to what could fairly be described as a spurt.
Nicholas, not being able to oblige like the other two, offered his bumhole to Danny and Barry.
After they had squirted noisily and affectionately into Nicholas, David and Stephen completed Nick's set by using his, by now squelchy, hole for seconds.
The lads went to bed early—to their own beds except that Barry, with a sailor's sense of comradeship, insisted that Nick shared his bed for the night.
Monday went well for Danny, but Tuesday, the day of the third attempt at Slytherin's secrets, started with a dreadful omen, or, simply, dreadful news if you did not believe in omens: ten death eaters had escaped from Azkaban.
To most of the students, this suggested merely a sort of background terror with night prowlers attacking lonely houses or victimising people getting home late.
To Danny, it was far more serious: these were members of Voldemort's A team and the balance of power had taken a big swing in the wrong direction.
As always when Danny was troubled, he had recourse to sex.
At break he got Adam to bum him in the loo.
At lunch his stout resistance to the frequent solicitations of the drop-dead gorgeous first-year, Gideon Buchanan, collapsed and he let Gideon suck him off, also in the loo; after this, Danny explored, with hand and tongue, Gideon's naughty bits, including a pleasing, tawny penis. He led me on, Officer! Danny thought.
That evening, he tried to work in the common room, but was so nervy that he relaxed by reading Euan Abercrombie's comic: The Cat Sat on the Mat about a hag's black cat which had his own adventures on a Magic Carpet.
While they were reading together, Euan nestled very close and soon Alexander Bell was nestling on the other side.
Less erotic, but still welcome, were the first-year girls who leant on the back of the sofa, giggling at Danny's funny voices as he read the balloons aloud.
Then, at last, came action: a seventh-year girl entered the common room and called: "Harris, Pucey from Slytherin is here to see you."
"Danny, would you go?" asked a partially-briefed Sea Jay, "I'm in the middle of something and it's probably just the minutes of the GC meeting."
"Excuse me," said Danny, and went to the portrait hole where he received the minutes—and the recorder, which he stowed in his robe while smiling at Adrian.
He delivered the parchment to Sea Jay, who gave him a conspiratorial wink—Danny had told him he needed a quick word with Adrian to set up their next sexual liaison.
It took a lot of Danny's resolve to settle back on the sofa and finish Euan's comic, but at last he was able to go to his dormitory without anyone suspecting that the future of the world might be decided in the next few minutes—or that Danny was completely wasting his time.
Once in the dormitory, he sat on his bed and performed every Concealment Charm he could think of.
He rewound the tape, fast-forwarded it through a lot of silence, and found voices.
Voices! This was looking hopeful.
He finally picked up the moment that the SSK's entered the room.
"Right. Let's make it quick. I want to get down to the Quidditch field."
It was a hoarse voice that Danny recognised as belonging to Claude Miles, a quiet and unassuming boy who found release in a different persona adopted on the Quidditch field, where he was loud and over-assertive—even though he was useless on a broomstick.
"Ready?"
There was a chorus of Yeahs and Miles began to recite a Poem:
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"
Out of this gibberish, Danny produced a mental image.
He had no time to analyse this, as a voice he recognised as the supercilious Blaise Zabini's repeated the poem.
He was followed in succession by people he took to be Gonzalo Harper, Christopher Winter and Malcolm Baddock.
Then came a voice that he knew and loved: the not-exactly dulcet tones of Brian Hudson.
In his husky voice Brian intoned the poem, giving Danny the horn.
Danny had, by this time, decoded the first three lines: the six SSK's presented their rings and five of them were penetrated by their fellows' bones so that a daisy-chain of buggery was created.
Three bones—presumably third-, fourth- and fifth-year's—were required to come with a flow into their buggerees' rings.
Were they going to do this?
If they did, Danny thought there would quite possibly be four flows: Baddock was a big boy—perhaps thirteen already—and looked at least on the verge of spurtsmanship.
The enactment of the poem was not to be, though, as the SSK's left the room with a See you next week from Miles.
He thought about the later lines: the spare ring was to be filled, not by the Dark Lord's bone, but by his wand; and that, together with the invocation Veni Osiris, would allow him to invoke the important spell: Confusiarmus!
Danny had never heard of this spell, but its meaning was clear, as was its potential attraction to the Dark Lord.
Salazar Slytherin must have envisaged a time when a future Dark Lord appeared; a Dark Lord with sufficient power to re-establish the supremacy of purebloods.
And Voldemort aspired to be, not just the current Dark Lord, but Salazar's Dark Lord. He needed the Slytherin Secrets so that he could use this spell—there was probably other surviving Salazar material which told of the existence of a power-giving spell but gave no details on how to find it.
Why a Muggle god from Ancient Egypt should need to be summoned, was beyond Danny. Osiris was a myth, so he couldn't be expected to turn up.
But thinking about the poem again, Danny realised that there were actually four charms to be performed by the Dark Lord's Wand of Stone: charms involving seven blows, fire, a jewel and Osiris.
And why was it a wand of stone?
Further thought would be needed.
Danny set his alarm for one o'clock and made his way to the Slytherin basement.
He gave the password, muttered Normalis Sum! and moved to enter.
The handle wouldn't turn: the password had been changed.
Without thinking, he invoked: Invenio Signum!
There was a moment of dizziness and then the door opened: his Password Cracker had worked!
He paused inside the doorway.
After some thought, he decided that his success was down to a period of subconscious development while his conscious brain was taking a break; also the naturalness of his invocation due to what might have been nerves diverted to anger at the fact that the password had been changed.
His Password Cracker worked by the brute-force approach of successively trying every possible word or phrase until one of them worked.
Normally such a procedure might have taken years—or even centuries—but Danny had contrived that his Charm turned Time back to the beginning at the end of each unsuccessful attempt.
Such meddling with Time was dangerous, illegal and only possible to a tiny degree for the solo wizard.
He passed into Brian's room and gave the sleeping boy a kiss on his troubled forehead.
Then he went to Adrian's room and gently shook his friend.
"Danny! How did you get in?"
"No worries."
"But the password changed to Leads the Way. I forgot to tell you when I gave you the doings."
"I heard someone using it."
"Well? Did the Recorder work?"
"Yes, it did work, but it's all absolute gibberish and I don't think it's got any relevance to the modern world."
"What do they say?"
"Sorry, Adrian, I don't think I can tell you: remember you're still an ex-SSK and, despite the cock-up on Disillusionment, Salazar's spell might still recognize you as such. Then it might try to make you an ex-human, as well as an ex-SSK."
"Don't tell me! Don't tell me!"
Danny would have liked to have asked if Osiris had any significance within Slytherin, but he did not dare to pollute Adrian's brain even with that tiny fragment of information. He was not going to underestimate Salazar Slytherin—even after a thousand years.
"I won't tell you, but what I will do, if you'll kindly oblige me by removing your pyjamas, is whatever Virion did on Sunday night."
"Physically impossible, but we can go some of the way there."
Adrian stripped and lay back with legs raised. Soon, Danny's five glorious inches was at work.
"Wank me, please," said Adrian, and Danny obliged.
"Snog me, please," said Adrian and Danny giggled: he could not reach as far as the tall Virion White.
Still, it was a top-class shag and Danny's orgasm was shortly followed by a number of heavy splashes, soaking their chest and stomachs.
After a while, Adrian said. "Stay the night, Danny."
"Yeah, OK."
"Oh, Danny let me tell you something else that may be relevant."
"Go on."
"Sunday night, we were missing a Quaffle and I went on the hunt. I went to one of the second-year dorms and saw that Malcolm Baddock's bed-curtains were drawn.
"I could hear what was going on and I crept up to have a look. We Slytherins are sneaky, as you know."
"It's called natural curiosity and the pleasure of knowing a secret," said Danny, "One of my vices too."
Adrian continued: "Anyway, I peeped through the curtains at the foot of the bed and there was Baddock in the pillow-biting position with Chris Winter shagging the life out of him."
"Good Lord!" said Danny, "Did they see you?"
"Not in that position, but you see what this means, don't you?"
"SSK's," said Danny, "We know seven SSK's and five of them are gay."
"Maybe more," said Adrian, "Miles is weird in a non-sexual way; and he certainly takes a long, long time showering after Games; and as for Zabini: he's not at all girly, but . . ."
"Camp as pink chicory," completed Danny.
"What does it mean? Why should Salazar want gay boys to be his Secret Keepers?"
"I won't tell you! I won't tell you!"
"Fair comment."
And Danny stayed the night, creeping back to Gryffindor in the morning with his torso still crusted with Adrian's cum.
— CHAPTER TWENTY —Osiris And St ValentineDanny's top priority was to find out about Osiris.
At morning break he made for the Muggle Studies section of the library where he learned that Egyptian Religious Mythology held that Osiris had been killed and cut up into fourteen pieces by his brother, Set. Set concealed the pieces all over Egypt, But Osiris's wife (and sister) Isis had found the pieces and stitched them together, so restoring Osiris to life—or, rather, death, as he became king of the underworld. Horus, the son of Osiris and Isis, killed Set.
Although this seemed the purest nonsense, Danny felt that there was a faint redolence of magic, or magical history, somewhere in the story.
The next step would be the Restricted Section of the library. That evening, he slipped out of Gryffindor and into the darkened library. He allowed himself a little Lumos! and approached the menacing shelves. He immediately stepped back: several of the books appeared to be able to recognize his presence, despite the Disillusionment Charm. One book, indeed, seemed about to attack him, and when another set up a deafening screech, he surrendered and fled back to Gryffindor.
He decided on an official approach and, after Transfiguration on Friday morning, applied to Professor McGonagall.
"We do not allow fourth-years access to the Restricted Section, Jorrocks," she said, "May I ask why you should be an exception?"
"There are some plants that grow in my father's lands, Miss, called saxifrages. There are also lichens—fungus and algae living together—and I'm interested in their combination in Potions or Medicine. There's some info in this book"—he handed over Magical Plants from the Tundra—"but not much and Professor Snape and Professor Sprout can't provide any more.
"Since the Tundra people have forgotten a lot of Ancient Magic, I wonder if some is preserved in the older literature."
Like the best lies, this was the truth—except that the saxifrage-lichen project was, in reality, expected to start in an indefinite future.
Professor McGonagall was interested.
"That's a very advanced area, Jorrocks," she said, "the sort of thing that students normally pursue after their N.E.W.T.s."
"Yes, Miss, but I've plenty of spare time—even after homework—and it would be nice to make a genuine contribution to wizarding knowledge."
"Very well, Jorrocks, I'll write you out an open ticket for tomorrow. If you think prospects look good, come and persuade me and I'll allow you further visits."
"Thank you, Miss."
The Creeveys had been set a horrendous amount of homework and it was eleven o'clock before they finished; the grumpy Kenneth Towler had earlier given Dennis marching-orders and been outvoted by the other prefects.
Dennis's classmate, the red-haired gay Simon Hibbard, had also benefited from this—though he would probably been excused anyway because of the company he was keeping.
"Why is Simon sitting with Twist?" asked Danny.
"Haven't you heard?" laughed Dennis, ""He's been bragging all over the house. He's in an exclusive group with Gordon Twist and his boyfriend in Hufflepuff . . . what do you call him?"
"Andrew Merryweather," said Danny, "And did the GC's set them up together?"
"Yeah, Twist and his pal wanted someone to watch them doing it, so it's worked out ideal 'cos watching's all that Simon's good for: he's got a one-inch willy and his sack is as flat as a pancake."
"Do I detect a whiff of bitchiness, brother?" laughed Danny.
"It's not bitchy. He's exactly what I said."
"But presumably he's got a fully-operational set of hands, mouth and bumhole."
"Besides," chipped in Colin, "within months he might have a twelve-incher and, when his balls drop, the noise might be louder than the clock-tower."
"Alright," conceded Dennis, "I do feel a bit bitchy: he's chased after loads of boys but never me."
"You could have asked him out, Den" said Danny.
"You're joking! I don't fancy him."
There was a pause, then Colin and Danny burst into convulsions of laughter.
Dennis looked at his brothers as they sat laughing together on the sofa, then leapt on top of them, and shouted: "Isn't life grand?"
"Yes, Dennis," shouted Fred or George from the bottom of the room.
Next morning, Danny woke up in Colin's bed. He and Colin were facing each other and Dennis had contrived, in his sleep, to turn himself round and had a foot in each of his brothers' faces.
This was too tempting and Danny started nibbling Dennis's toes.
Dennis's giggles woke up Colin who was immediately onto the situation and processed Dennis's other foot.
It was in a state of high humour, then, that they went down to breakfast and in the same happy state that Danny presented his ticket to Madam Pince.
She peered at the ticket held it up to the light (You'd better smell it too. Danny was tempted to say) and eventually yielded.
"Be very careful," she warned, "Some of these books are priceless."
At last, after a lecture on the types of damage he was not allowed to do to the books, Danny was allowed to approach the shelves.
He was not hopeful of finding a book specifically on Osiris, but he had hoped for something on Egypt.
He failed there and tried for title-words such as Africa, Ancient, Gods, Mythology, Underworld.
There were many candidates, but in none of them could he find Osiris in the index or on the contents-page.
Then he thought he'd look for Dark Magic, and waded through another large set of books.
He realised had been subconsciously looking for old books so he changed to looking at the titles of modern books.
He picked up An Encyclopædia of Darker History. More in hope than expectation, he looked up Osiris, and, to his joy, he found:
Osiris: semi-mythicalwizard circa 8500 BC. Said to have developed Muggle farming techniques in Mesopotamia and to have perished at the hands of a Squib. His wand was said to have great power and to enable a skilled Wizard to cause chaos out of which he could benefit. A distorted version of the life of Osiris found its way into Muggle theology in Egypt circa 4000 BC and he is worshipped as a god by some deluded Muggles to this day. His wand, under the term The Talisman of Set features in some Muggle fairy-tales.
It was not much—maybe just a legend—but Voldemort was certainly a skilled wizard and the concept of causing chaos out of which he could benefit would appeal to him.
And there was the reference to the Wand: the Wand in the SSK's rhyme was surely the Wand of Osiris.
Then tying in further with the SSK's rhyme: the Wand must be held in Slytherin, where it was safe from harmers.
To obtain the Wand, a wizard would have to cry Veni Osiris! in circumstances involving seven blows, fire and a jewel.
Once he had possession of the Wand, a wizard could, by setting up the multiple buggery and inserting his wand in the bumhole of the rearmost boy, invoke the—presumably Dark—spell: Confusiarmus!
Then he realised why most of the known SSK's were gay: they had to be turned on by boy's bottoms; the spell required penetration and emission.
A horrible thought came into Danny's head: perhaps Salazar Slytherin had imposed an anti-gay ethos on Slytherin house so that his SSK's would be unsatisfied and randy when the time came for the spell to be cast.
A thousand SSK's denied sexual pleasure in their teen years; denied Love as well—even Friendship.
How could a gay man—and Danny was sure that only a gay man would create such a spell—impose such misery on other gay men? He wondered what provisions there were within the SSK system for suicides.
At lunch he glanced at Miles and Zabini. I know you're gay, he thought.
Seven Blows, Fire, Jewel. Seven Blows, Fire, Jewel went through Danny's head like a mantra for the next few days.
He was sitting in the common room on Tuesday evening thinking things through. The only way forward that he could think of was Snape's private library: Snape was known to have coveted the DADA Professorship for years and had a sizeable selection of books on the Dark Arts.
The problem was that Snape was in the habit of working in his office every evening, sometimes sleeping on the couch there, though he had a home somewhere else with a Floo connection with Hogwarts.
There was a lesser problem: following his office being broken into a year earlier, it was reported that Snape had secured it with an amazingly powerful anti-intruder Charm.
Danny thought that that was probably piffle: every wizard wants to be credited with the creation of new, amazing spells. Probably Snape had put a simple Password Charm on the door and left it at that.
All he had to do was pick a time when Snape was diverted.
By a coincidence he picked up the word diversion as the twins galumphed into the common room and up the stairs. They emerged five minutes later, carrying a sack each and disappeared at the same speed at which they had arrived.
He suspected that this was part of the mysterious anti-Toadface campaign cooked up with the lover-boy Damian before Christmas.
He sat ready for the off, but nothing happened. Harry, Ron and Hermione entered at half past ten and went placidly to bed.
Danny gave it half an hour and then went upstairs too.
He was woken—everyone was woken—by an incredible cacophony. His watch said past four o'clock. Like the rest of his dormitory, Danny jumped out of bed and headed for the door.
Unlike the rest, he turned downwards and waited, concealed, at the end of the Potions Corridor. As was always likely, Snape walked quickly towards the disturbance and, as Danny had expected, his Invenio Signum! got him into Snape's office.
He had no time to pick and choose but flicked through the contents pages of anything with a likely title.
He found a relevant section in a book whose title he hadn't bothered to read, just noting that it contained the word Slytherin:
Among the Dark Artefacts which this Most Potent Wizard did possess was the ancient Wand of Osiris with which said Salazar, alone among the Wizards of his time, and by dint of the most discreditable and unnatural uses of his Acolytes, generated Great Magical Deeds until he was overcome by the treacherous Godric Gryffindor.
Upon the Departure of said Salazar naked as the day of his birth the school of Hogwarts was searched most deeply but availing Naught. The Wand of Osiris was itself of Great Repellency taking the form of that part of a Man which it were better to conceal decently and it is surmised that the treacherous Godric Gryffindor did destroy the Wand upon his abuse of Salazar Slytherin.
Danny gasped. So the wand was in the form of a willy—perhaps it was a real willy, suitably preserved; and it didn't need a dirty mind to guess at the meaning of discreditable and unnatural uses, even without prior knowledge of the buggery requirements of Salazar Slytherin's spell.
He memorised the words, replaced the book and prepared to flee back to Gryffindor where he could lie in bed thinking fiercely.
Apart from the form of the Wand, the words didn't get him further but they did provide confirmation of the buggery component of the spell.
All that remained was to find the Wand!
Danny heard the noise dying down and decided it was time to go. He had a scan at the last shelf and turned towards the door. He had to use the Password Cracker to get out, which meant that the door was self-locking: Snape would never know he had been burgled.
He was not a moment too soon: he was a few yards along the corridor when Snape appeared round the corner. Danny made himself Safe! just in case; but Snape was, not only oblivious to Danny's presence, but actually smiling. In the manner of people who live alone, he was talking to himself. Danny heard the phrase Hogsmeade visit restored. This meant nothing to him until the next morning when he got Colin's report of the affair and a verbatim of Umbridge's exchange with Harry.
Danny had neglected his planned investigations of Snape's probity—there had been no lines of enquiry; nor any pressing need after the fifth of October. However, Snape's smile and words suggested, not only an antipathy towards Umbridge—hardly news—but a sympathy for Harry. But everyone knew that Snape hated Harry.
Was Snape's hatred a pretence? If it was, then it was a long-term pretence and Danny wondered if Professor Dumbledore, foreseeing the return of Scumbag, had asked Snape to set himself up as an apparent Scumbag-sympathiser so that he had an agent in Scumbag's camp—an agent who Scumbag would think was actually his own agent in the Dumbledore camp.
From considering Snape to being anti-Scumbag to considering him, with his specialist Slytherin knowledge, a potential ally in the hunt for Seven Blows, Fire, Jewel was a short step and Danny sometimes mentally reviewed the pros and cons.
Meanwhile, there were other calls on his time, most pleasant being the JIGS meetings. Adam and Danny had questioned the need for weekly meetings now that Danny's original aim of educating the first-years had been fulfilled and the concept of Gay Romance had been accepted by so many students in Hogwarts.
The proposal to change to fortnightly was shouted down, as was the proposal that those straights who felt that they'd done their bit, could now retire with honour.
In fact it was the straights in his own house that gave Danny the most joy: Paul, James Carter and Euan were prepared to kiss, pat, hug or hold hands with any of their friends: male or female; straight or gay.
Even Nathan Passaro, the suspected spy, started talking and formed his own little set with Matthew and Leon, the aim of the set being, apparently, to share the right to squire Tintin around and to snog him—and perhaps a bit more—as much as possible.
Gideon had gone from strength after it became known that he had sucked off Danny—known through his own joyful vauntings, it should be said. He was probably the prettiest boy in the school if considered in film-star terms, and was much in demand for lavvy-cubicle engagements with older boys.
And as for Brian: it became accepted by Adam and the Jiggers that they should leave promptly at the end of each session to allow him to be alone with Danny. They talked and held hands. Once, Brian sucked Danny off, but it was no big deal: just like two lovers carving their names to say: We were here.
The meetings themselves did not degenerate into gossip-shops or flirting-sessions: hard discussion took place. When Adam asked them to have a think about why gays exist, the next meeting quickly moved on to why humans exist . . . why the physical world exists . . . what does existence mean.
Danny considered taking Brian into his confidence in the quest for Seven Blows, Fire, Jewel but thought it unlikely to be rewarding as even the words would elicit some protective reaction from the SSK Charm.
The weeks drifted towards the first Hogsmeade day of the term—Valentine's Day. Danny decided to track Harry invisibly: there might, after all be a new Slytherin conspiracy.
There was certainly no Umbridge conspiracy: she kept a low-to-zero profile and looked remote and disturbed on her rare public appearances.
Danny Disillusioned and followed Harry down the drive, overjoyed that he had finally got together with his loved one, though they were still shy and conversation was stilted.
In Hogsmeade, he was surprised to see Harry's other boyfriend, Damian, sheltering from the rain under a tree. He wondered whether there was going to be a soap-opera moment, but Harry and Cho passed without a glance—or, presumably, with a quick glance. Danny guessed that Damian had come to Hogsmeade in order to have a look at Harry's romantic focus.
He followed Harry and Cho to the tea-shop and checked that the Slytherins, who seemed to have restricted their anti-Harry activities to jeering, were elsewhere: there was no anti-Potter conspiracy today.
Relieved, he made himself visible and entered the Three Broomsticks. He bought himself a drink, waved to a battered-looking Hagrid and went to sit with Mundungus Fletcher, who was talking out the corner of his mouth to the twins.
"Mr Fletcher," he said, after greeting the twins, "How's business?"
"Bloody awful, Master Daniel, I can't even persuade these two to take some of that stuff you had, an' which I've brought up some of today, if yer wants any."
"Still got some left. It's good stuff, twins."
"Not our style," said Fred or George.
"You should be going in for Dark Side protection with all these death eaters about," said Danny.
Dung snorted: "I was on a bit of a binge when they announced it, an' everyone 'ad their prices up by the time I was onter it, an' when I got ter Diagon, they'd changed the brick, an' by the time I'd set up, evryone 'ad bought their stuff an' gone 'ome an' locked their doors."
"What was that about the brick, Mr Fletcher?"
"Knee-jerk reaction, Master Daniel. Typical Ministry. They changed 'ow yer gets inter Diagon Alley an' then tells them as is already on the inside. I arst you! They 'ad ter change it back smart, I can tell yer."
"That's just a hiccup, Mr Fletcher; I think you should look to Dark Side protection for your bread and butter for some time."
"Maybe you're right Master Daniel. Now I better get to the 'Og's 'Ead quick. That's six Galls an' free Sicks—call it six dead—I got a sof' spot fer all the Weasleys."
"Dung, you let us have Cash-on-Delivery last time," said a twin.
"It's cash up front till those deaf eaters are back inside."
The twins paid up, Mr Fletcher left and the twins were joined by their Valentines.
What a waste, he thought as he said goodbye, If they can't find boyfriends, they've got each other—and that's not second-best.
There was something that Mr Fletcher had said . . . something he should have noticed.
He decided to go back to the Creeveys, who had stayed in the castle.
He was brooding over what Mr Fletcher had said when he saw that Damian was still standing under the tree, presumably waiting to see Harry return.
He remembered that Harry had called him a selfless soul and walked up to him.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"I haven't seen you about here before. Do you come here often?"
"I live here—well, on a farm just up the road."
"Just doing some shopping?"
"And waiting for a friend."
"Friendship's wonderful, isn't it?"
"The most wonderful thing in the world."
"Do you know any of the students?"
"Yes, though I'm a Muggle."
"You don't feel like a Muggle."
"That's what my friend says. He thinks I've got Ancient Magic inside me."
"I must go and see my friends. Look at my face. Remember me. I think we'll meet again. See yer."
"See yer."
Danny had a good vibration from Damian.
Back inside Hogwarts, Danny found the Creeveys doing something secret. He assumed that it was something to do with Hermione's group, but lunchtime revealed all: the end of the Gryffindor table was covered with a rich, ruby-red table-cloth; there were three table-settings with solid gold chargers, side plates, goblets and cutlery; three large, nine medium and twenty-seven tiny candles, rose petals, greenery and heart-shaped confectionary completed a setting that was made for Romance.
Colin waved his wand to create an area of twilight around the table-end.
They sat down, Danny facing his two brothers, and Colin lit each candle with a tap of his wand.
Danny felt the thump of sudden understanding: he knew what Slytherin's rhyme meant.
But there wasn't time to analyse it out in detail.
"Colin . . . Dennis! What a beautiful idea!"
"Do you think it's showing off?" asked Colin, "It's about three of us instead of two of them; and three instead of one: they're just Lovers; we're Friends, Brothers and Lovers."
"It's not showing off," said Danny, "It's just our own public declaration of Love, and all the couples are doing the same in their own way."
"Dobby got us the plates," said Dennis, "They haven't been used since the visit of someone called David Lloyd George in nineteen twenty."
"And he's prepared our meal; we got the recipes from a Muggle book," said Colin.
A wonderful meal it was, too: Oyster, Avocado and Asparagus Salad; Mexican Chili with Meatballs and Miniature Butternut Squashes; Banana and Cherry in Chocolate Sauce accompanied by Figs stuffed with Cream, the whole sprinkled with heart-shaped Liquorice Allsorts.
They were nearly at the end of the meal when they saw Harry come in with Hermione and Luna.
"It looks like the Cho thing didn't go well," said Danny.
"Lovers' tiff," said Colin.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you: that Damian was in Hogsmeade."
"Golly! Was there a row?"
"No: they pretended not to know each other. I think Damian was there just to see what Harry's lover-boy looked like. He was still there when I came back and we had a little chat."
"What did you say?"
"He said he was waiting for a friend; I said I was sure we'd meet again. I liked him."
"If you liked him, we all like him, don't we Col?"
"Yes, Den—oh, look!"
Luna had joined Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table.
"That's nice," said Danny, "they must have been consoling Harry and now they're being friendly."
"Another threesome!" said Dennis, "We started a fashion!"
A little later the Quidditch team arrived.
"They look miserable," said Colin.
"Yeah, remind me not to tease Ron today," said Danny.
"They're talking about us," said Dennis.
"And smiling," said Colin.
"Andy Kirke's not smiling," said Dennis.
"He looks nearly in tears," said Danny, "go and give him a cuddle."
"He's a bit odd about things like that," said Dennis, "He's been very standoffish with Simon since he sent him a Valentine's card this morning."
"How many did you get, Den?" said Colin, "I forgot to ask."
"Eight: at least two of them from Mandy Brocklehurst."
"I got twelve," said Colin, "Danny didn't open any of his thirty-something."
"Probably half from girls, so I'm not interested and half from boys, and I've probably shagged them so they don't need cards to know I love them."
"There may be one little gay boy and it's the bravest thing he's ever done," said Dennis, "Oh, look out: here's a Prefect!"
Hermione had arrived.
"You boys, always think of something new and nice," she said, "We're really impressed."
"Including Ronny?" asked Danny, smilingly.
"Ronny's not in the best of moods. Quidditch causes so much aggravation . . ."
"Hear! Hear!" said Danny.
"Don't upset Luna, will you?" said Colin, "We really like her."
"We like her too," said Hermione, "and she's being very helpful."
"I see," said Danny, and he did see.
The intrusion of Hermione onto the brotherly island was taken by many as a sign that the island was now accepting tourists and the brothers were soon surrounded by a gossiping, giggling set of well-wishers.
Danny glanced at the Staff table.
Snape was looking as disgusted as ever; Hagrid and Professor Trelawney looked introverted; but the rest, including the Headmaster, making a rare weekend appearance, looked with benevolence at the boys and girls having fun.
A romantic lunch might be expected to lead to an afternoon of physical passion, but Danny and the Creeveys had been at it all night and were looking for fun of a different kind.
They found this by exploring the castle.
They were accompanied by Peter Jones and Caerwen Morgan, who addressed each other as girlfriend and by Euan Abercrombie, who didn't mind in the least being an odd man out in the company.
With Danny's Password Cracker available, they found themselves in many odd rooms and explored previously-unknown passages and stairways.
The castle was like the Muggle picture of the Atom: mainly composed of empty space.
— CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE —Quidditch And OsirisAfter a long and delightful afternoon, Danny reported to his dorm-mates for a long and delightful Saturday night, so it was not until Sunday morning that Danny found time to think about the SSK rhyme.
The rain had passed and the wind died down so Danny walked the grounds trying out his new theory.
Mr Fletcher's reference to tapping a brick had planted the seed of the idea and Colin's taps on the candles had germinated it: The Seven Blows might be taps with a wand.
Surely it was a Jewel that had to be tapped, a jewel where the fire is.
He tried to think where a jewel might be found in Slytherin, without coming up with anything.
Then there was the fire: he had heard of a fire-opal, but these weren't exactly lying all over the floor in Slytherin.
The fire: it was the fireplace; the great, ancient, stone fireplace with its carved figures of Serpent and Slytherin. He tried to remember the eyes of the figures: surely they must be made of jewels.
He wanted to run straight to Slytherin and prove his theory, but, that being impossible for another fifteen hours, went back to Gryffindor and joined a game of Corridor Cricket which the younger students were setting up.
Never had a morning passed so slowly for Danny.
"Something's up, isn't it Dan?" said Colin over lunch.
"Yeah, I'm doing something important in the night and I'm on edge."
"What you need is . . ."said Colin, and paused. Then the two Creeveys recited together: a nice relaxing rectal massage with a hot protein injection.
"That would help," said Danny.
"The GC's are meeting in Gryffindor this afternoon," said Colin, "I heard Sea Jay telling Jonny."
So, Danny slipped Sea Jay a note:
Mr Jorrocks presents his compliments to the GC's and requests that, after their meeting, they each service him in the old-fashioned way.
At three o'clock, the four GC's emerged from the study-room.
"Right, Danny," said Adrian, "Where to?"
He was looking relaxed these days and Danny thought: You deserve it!
He said: "There's a nice little place we came upon yesterday."
As the five boys approached the portrait hole, Colin called: "Danny what about getting four more and doing it in Stereo?"
"I'm on!"
There was some kerfuffle as Colin tried to find four more boys capable of giving Danny a good mouthful.
Jonny was keen, as they had known he would be, but it was most unexpected when the twins looked at each other and Fred or George called out: "We're on, Colin!"
"Where are you going?" said a girlfriend.
"Indoor Quidditch," said George or Fred, "You know we're barred from the outdoor variety."
There was some difficulty in finding a good, mature eighth. Derek volunteered to run to Hufflepuff for reinforcements, but Seamus, having looked round to check that Dean was still outside with the footballers, shuffled up and mumbled: "I wouldn't mind a game of Quidditch meself."
It was only after further discussion that Colin and Dennis agreed to go as strictly hands-off MC's, so it was ten lads who set off for the seventh floor, negotiating the invisible staircase with ease.
"Where are we going?" asked Adam.
"Staff Quarters," said Danny.
"Staff Quarters? Are you mad?" said Seamus.
"We've got to be quiet until we get there. Once we're inside, we can make our room secure and soundproof."
Danny led them through two locked doors.
"How the hell did you do that?" asked Fred or George.
"It's magic!" laughed Danny.
He led them to an unused bedroom which was entered via its own private sitting-room.
He secured the two rooms and, at Colin's command, stripped and performed two SICKs—an eight-boy SICK and a two-boy SICK.
Colin choreographed matters according to penis-size:
"Beaters: your task is to strike the Bludger hard with your bats. The Bludger is a few inches inside Danny's bum.
"Chasers: your task is to move the Quaffle, which is somewhere near Danny's tonsils.
"Me and Den are seekers and we have our own private Snitches.
"First Beater: Derek; first Chaser: Seamus."
Derek's preference was to receive a good, hard shagging, but he was quite capable and equipped for a reversal: A bit of the other other, he called it.
For Danny, having his bumhole explored by Derek's willy made a pleasant change—in fact, this was the first time.
He had no time to ponder on this new delight: Seamus had straddled him and was offering his own willy.
Danny took hold of the willy and inhaled deeply: he received a full-blast whiff of the most revolting smell that he had ever encountered—except that, Danny being totally gay, and probably more exotic in his tastes than the average gay boy, was utterly turned on.
He couldn't have defined the smell except in terms of food: there was high fish, over-hung pheasant, rotten cabbages, corked wine and one or two other components that were new to him.
He wafted Seamus's willy around for a while, savouring the complex odour and wriggling with pleasure at Derek's rear-end work.
"Go on!" said Seamus urgently, nudging his willy against Danny's lips.
Danny opened his mouth and allowed Seamus to insert himself.
The taste was as gamey as the smell and was enhanced by textural refinements: Seamus had a lot of knob-cheese within which a number of his pubic hairs were embedded.
As Danny enjoyed all these wonderful sensations, sucking Seamus hard, his nose was pressed against Seamus's pubis.
The smells were strong and varied here, as well: fresh cum, old cum, ballsack and another Seamus special.
Danny was so excited that he came; he wasn't the first to come, as Seamus had a few seconds previously shot a little spurt into his mouth.
"Turn round, Seamus," he said, and Seamus, guessing or knowing what was required, presented his bum to Danny's face.
As expected, the hole was filthy and the range of smells overpoweringly strong. Danny enjoyed smelling it, but even he wasn't up to licking the mixture of vintage and contemporary poo that decorated the hole—and some way beyond the hole.
Derek orgasmed with a squeak and backed out immediately.
"Finnigan: when did you last take a shower?" he said.
"Don't let him nag you, Seamus," said Danny, "I think you smell great and anyone that doesn't like it can keep clear of you."
"He's right, though, I need a shower."
"If I catch you having one, I'll tell Deano why you had to have it."
Seamus laughed: "that's one thing I know you wouldn't do. You're a loyal boy. Everybody knows that."
"Next pair, please," said Colin.
Danny noticed that the Seekers were standing next to each other, trying to cajole the snitches out of hiding by wiggling middle fingers at them.
"Next Beater: Adam; next Chaser: Fred."
Fred represented a pleasant change for Danny, who had not had the pleasure since a memorable Saturday afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron in August.
Adam was more frequent fare, but Danny could never tire of being bummed by him.
He mounted Danny with his usual gentleness—unnecessarily, as Derek had loosened Danny up a treat—and started thrusting with his usual vigour.
"Move over at the trough, Adam!" said Fred, and Adam, who had been clutching Danny tightly, allowed Fred room to crawl in and squat with his chubby willy angled up into Danny's face.
As with Seamus, Danny got a spectrum of smells, but they were much milder, as well as being different.
He didn't have much time to savour the odours: Fred exigently pushed his willy into Danny's mouth and was making in-and-out movements even before Danny had time to start sucking.
Fred soon started following Adam's rhythm while making grunting appreciative noises. Danny guessed that he had his eyes tightly closed and was thinking about the girl he had left in Gryffindor—was it Angelina? Katie? Ah well, he thought as Adam's tightening rhythm indicated an approaching orgasm, at least Adam was always turned on by his current sexual partner—and let everyone know about it at maximum volume.
But it seemed to be Fred who was getting turned on: he uttered a loud Yow! as he shot into Danny's mouth.
Adam was at his usual vigorous climax, banging hard into Danny.
Fred continued squealing: Yow! Yow! Yow!
He was aware of laughter in the background—quite understandably, as Fred seemed to be doing cat impressions.
When Adam had stopped moving, and the three boys had separated, the reason for Fred's strange behaviour was revealed: Adam had bestowed devastating love-bites on each buttock.
"Bloody hell, Watts," said Fred, "I won't be able to sit down for a week."
"Sorry, Fred—" began Adam.
"Sorry, George." corrected Danny.
"How did you know?" said the unmasked George.
"Different smell; different taste; different texture; different feel." said Danny.
"You are good—as good as . . . another friend of ours," said George.
"Anyway; sorry George," Adam continued, "But if a boy sticks his arse in another boy's face when the other boy's quite pleased with himself, what's a boy to do?"
"Next Beater: Sea Jay; next Chaser: The Real Fred," announced Colin.
"I'm not playing unless you promise not to bite me," said Fred, "I wouldn't be able to laugh at George if I had the same wounds as he did."
"I promise," said Sea Jay, and proceeded to push a finger into Danny's bumhole.
By the time Sea Jay had got two fingers wiggling like mad with the thumb tickling the exterior, Danny had got a raging urge: "Go on, Sea Jay, stuff it in; stuff it in hard!"
Sea Jay stuffed it in and Danny was soon enjoying a bumhole stretched as it had not been for days.
Sea Jay's willy was another that had grown in the course of the school year. So had Danny's bumhole, but the pleasure seemed even more exquisite.
Muttering: "No biting," Fred took up his position and Danny, despite his excitement, savoured the subtle differences between the twins.
Subtlety was forgotten as the powerful Sea Jay got into his stride. Fred's willy was forced in and out. The bed was rocking.
Then Fred let out a Yow! reminiscent of his brothers.
"That wasn't in the script!" he shouted.
"No biting," panted Sea Jay.
But Fred was soon showing signs of pleasure, and Danny guessed he was getting the two-finger treatment.
Fred squirted quickly—a bit more than George—and remained in position until Sea Jay came after about a minute amid cries of Foul! . . . Referee! . . . Offside!
When they parted, the reason for the cries was clear: Sea Jay's hairy buttocks were awash with Jonny-cum.
"I'm sorry Danny; it was so beautiful," said Jonathan.
"A minor hiccup," said Danny, "And a major splash."
Sea Jay addressed the others: "And now: my own little bit of private pleasure."
He sucked his forefinger and middle finger.
"Ugh, that's just been up Fred's bum!" said Derek.
Adam removed the fingers and replied: "Ah Derek, you have failed in observation: my left hand was involved in Fred's bum; I sucked fingers from my right hand."
"One to you, Ad," said Derek, "You had me going then."
"Yes," said Adam, "My right hand was up Danny's bum."
He then proceeded to suck the fingers of his left hand.
"You dirty bugger!" said Derek.
"Next Beater: Adrian; next Chaser: Jonny, playing under handicap," said Colin.
There was a lot of spectator-interest in this fourth match: Adrian really had a whopper—even the six-foot-four Virion White had been seen on occasion walking stiff-leggedly—and the prospect of it stuffing Danny's little bottom was fascinating.
But there were no dramatics: Adrian and Danny took things gently, at a pace they had used often before and soon they were copulating with no more circumstance of note than Danny's second orgasm.
Jonathan still had to chase the Quaffle, but, as he had no chance of catching it, Danny took his entire genitalia in his mouth and employed his tongue in a fruitless attempt to reach his bumhole.
When the three of them uncoupled, there was some cheering, but it was premature because Seamus was up and shagging Danny faster than an angry Leprechaun.
The Seekers, too, had suppressed themselves manfully, but soon Dennis was lying next to Danny with Colin bouncing enthusiastically on top.
When all was still, Colin asked Danny: "Howdya feel now, little brother?"
"Brilliant Col; relaxed and de-stressed and ready for some tea!"
It was Sunday night and, knowing that last-minute homework panics could keep students up late, as could devil-may-care end-of-weekend frolics, Danny left it until two o'clock before creeping out of bed, Disillusioning and setting off for Slytherin.
"Is that you again?" asked the Fat Lady.
"Wish me luck. It's for Gryffindor," he told her.
"Ah, you boys love your Quidditch," she called to his back.
He crept down to the basement and told the Slytherin door: Leads the Way and Normalis Sum!
The password had been changed again. He wondered at Slytherin's increased security-consciousness and invoked Invenio Signum!
He felt the usual moment of dizziness and disorientation before the door yielded and he entered the hallway, making himself Safe! as he did so.
The place was lit by eerie, green night-lights.
He went to the great fireplace and looked closely at the carved serpent. It was in profile and its eye was a mere indentation, with no sign of ever having contained a jewel.
The wizard was showing two eyes and neither of them was any more promising than the serpent's.
He had an icy feeling of disappointment down his spine.
He had been so sure of his analysis; so confident that he would find the jewel and enable the spell.
He started to pass his eyes systematically over the fireplace, looking for anything that could be thought of as a jewel—literally, metaphorically or by wordplay.
He was looking at and feeling some intricate decorative work on the under-edge of the mantelpiece when something in the corner of his eye diverted him:
The wizard was wearing a ring; and on the ring was a jewel.
He was furious with himself: in his wizardly training he had concentrated on specific magic while neglecting the importance of general observation, which Snape had taught him so well in his first year.
As though it were adding its own cheeky comment on Danny's thoughts, his bumhole twinged.
No, thought Danny, too much sex was not part of his problem: he had always found that the deep emotions, tensions and joys of sex, with the great explosion of release, had enhanced his wizarding powers.
His willy must have agreed; it became erect.
This was the moment anyway: he poised himself and tapped the jewel seven times before: Veni Osiris!
Nothing at all.
He tried again, this time with the incantation repeated with each tap—seven times in all, noting that this version was a superset of the previous one.
Still nothing.
Perhaps the spell didn't work non-verbally. He repeated everything aloud without success.
Perhaps the Disillusionment Charm was confusing the spell. He removed the Charm, but still there was nothing—not even the tiny shift in magical sensibility that often signalled a near-miss.
He paused and reviewed things internally to check that there no permutations that he had overlooked.
What to do next?
His first thought was that the spell was tied to SSK's. But surely that would be self-defeating: the SSK's knew the cryptic rhyme, but they could not be guaranteed to decode it, despite spending so much time in the room with the fireplace.
Not only could they not be Confunded to reveal the rhyme, but they could not be Confunded to use it.
Unless . . . supposing another secret had been passed down the Slytherin line—something along the lines of: Set the boy in front of my ring and make him do it—with, perhaps, a password.
Yes it could be done; and it was clever in that it required two people: there were secrets passed down within the Slytherin family and within Slytherin house at Hogwarts.
So it would have to be Brian; and Danny could be present: Salazar's spell would be expecting a Dark Lord and it had no way of knowing that Danny was not that Dark Lord.
Should Brian be free or Confunded?
He would try a hybrid, with Brian voluntarily carrying out Danny's non-verbal instructions.
His heart beating, he went into Brian's dormitory and created an island of contained sight and sound around them.
Brian was invisible in a non-magic way: he was curled up under a duvet that covered him from head to toe.
Everyone was different thought Danny: he considered it quite hot in the dorm. He foresaw difficulties when he and Brian got to sleep together.
Then he wondered if Brian was there: it looked a bit of a set-up with a dummy standing in for Brian while he went off on the poke.
But, pulling back the blankets: there he was. All boys look sad and lonely in their sleep, but Brian really looked lost.
Danny kissed him and shook his shoulder.
"Danny!"
They hugged each other and Danny said: "Get up; there's work to be done."
As Brian put on his dressing-gown and slippers, Danny explained: "I think we can get at the Secrets.
"Bring your wand and we'll go to the common room. Make as little noise as possible 'cos you'll have to be spell-free. Put these gloves on."
Danny put on his own gloves and gave Brian the pair he had borrowed from Barry.
"What's going to happen is that I'll be invisible and inaudible, but you'll be able to hear my instructions in your head. Any questions?"
"Can I suck you after?"
"Yeah; come on."
They went into the common room.
Danny Disillusioned and gave Brian his commands:
Focus on the wizard . . . look at his ring . . . now the jewel on the ring . . . tap the jewel and say: "Veni Osiris!"
Brian obeyed exactly.
Five times they repeated this.
Danny paused and thought Please! before commanding Brian for the seventh time.
Brian tapped: "Veni Osiris!"
Nothing happened for a moment, then the serpent on the left column seemed to flicker. Its head turned from profile to front view, staring evilly at Danny, it seemed.
He shuddered, thinking of Nagini, then told Brian: Get whatever's in there!
The turn of the serpent's head had exposed a recess in the mantelpiece.
Brian reached in with his hand and grabbed what looked like a bag.
He reached in with his other hand to check that there was nothing else, withdrew it and said "Empty."
"Give that here, Hudson!" said the voice of Montague.
Danny reacted in a flash: he called a Safe! for himself and a Protego! for Brian—the latter just in time to divert a massive Stunning Curse, which was followed by more curses and jinxes.
There were at least half a dozen senior Slytherins supporting Montague as he emerged from one of the passageways. Danny recognised Campbell, Warrington and a pretty, but unpleasant-looking girl he thought was called Bulstrode.
Danny needed time to plan the defence—especially as he could expect Dark Magic to be deployed
There was one imperative, though: Run, Brian! he commanded.
Brian, who had been standing as still as the carved wizard jerked into life and ran towards the entrance.
"After him!" shouted Montague.
Danny slowed them down with a Purpurea Nebulissima!
"Nebula recanto! called Montague, repeatedly.
Danny had to give Montague credit: for an improvised spell, it wasn't bad: it didn't clear the purple haze, but it allowed the Slytherins to grope their way through it.
Danny decided to follow from behind rather than running ahead to try and rescue Brian. The Slytherins didn't know that there were two boys involved and wouldn't expect an attack, from the rear, though Danny hoped that an attack would not be needed.
Once out the door the Slytherins ran full tilt along the corridor.
"There he is!" shouted Montague and they turned left into another corridor.
Brian gave them a good run and, being nimbler around corners than his bigger pursuers, was actually gaining on them when he made the fatal mistake of turning into the Potions corridor.
Danny groaned, and Montague picked up the situation as quickly as Danny: "Got him!" he said, "Three of you down that way and cut him off."
Brian was trapped.
Desperate, Danny was gearing himself up for a triple stupefy, but had a better idea: he aimed his wand at the door of the Potions Classroom, unlocked the door and pushed it open.
"Get in there!" he ordered Brian, who obeyed with alacrity.
Danny wiggled through the three Slytherins, followed Brian, slammed the door shut and summoned all the locking spells he could think of.
He removed the Disillusionment and, in the manner of a true action hero found time to kiss Brian.
Then he pointed his wand away from them and called: Expecto Patronum!
A few wisps of white light emerged form the tip of his wand; then more; then the wisps coalesced to form a glimmering monkey.
Concentrating, Danny thought:
Go to Dumbledore. Tell him: HELP! WE'RE TRAPPED IN THE POTIONS CLASSROOM!
The monkey vanished through the wall.
"What was that?" asked Brian.
"My Patronus. Now give me the doings: I'm better placed to protect it."
Danny passed over a snakeskin bag, about the size of an ordinary wash-bag, with the clasp formed of an entire serpent's head. It stunk of the Dark Arts.
He put the bag in his dressing-gown pocket.
"Good old Osiris!" he said.
— CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO —Goodbye Salazar, Goodbye BrianThe boys could hear the Slytherins arguing outside the door:
"We'll never get in. Let's fetch Snape."
"Snape'll be too soft on the rotten little traitor. Let's wait till he comes out."
"Yeah, he's got to come out sometime."
"Then we'll show him how Slytherins deal with traitors."
At this point, Danny's Patronus returned and hovered idly. That meant Mission Accomplished. Professor Dumbledore was on his way.
Finished with you, thanks he said to the monkey, which vanished like smoke.
"I say you fellows," said a new voice, "This could be SSK stuff."
There was a silence, broken only by a muttered Bloody hell!
Then Montague's voice said: "No: the other SSK's would have been with him. He's a traitor—I can't call him a blood-traitor because he's a half-blood. How he got to be SSK is anyone's guess."
"What are you boys and a girl doing here?"
It was Snape.
There was a Babel of voices: It's Hudson . . . He's stolen something from the Slytherin fireplace . . . We chased him here.
"Quiet! What were you doing out of bed?"
Montague answered: "There've been funny things happening at night, Sir, so we set up a watch-rota. Chessell was on watch and he saw Hudson creeping into the common room and went and woke up the rest of us."
"And six of you let him get away?"
"He put up a pretty mean Protego, Sir."
"Hudson put up a Protego strong enough to stop six N.E.W.T.s students?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And you think he is inside my Classroom?"
"We know he is, Sir; we saw him go in."
"How? How did he go in?"
"The door just opened and he walked in and slammed the door behind him."
"We'll see about that."
There was silence. Danny knew that Snape was waving his wand and using his password.
"Impossible!" muttered Snape, "Stand back, everybody."
Danny had to laugh: not only had he put his own Password Charm and other Guard Charms on the door, but he had magicked the door to be an integral part of the room: only by demolishing the entire stone wall could Snape get in.
There were some soft bangs followed by very loud bangs. The whole basement rocked and some books fell on the floor.
In the silence that followed, Professor Dumbledore's voice was heard.
"Locked out Severus? These are rather drastic spells to be using in front of students, talking of which, please return to your beds."
"But Sir—" came from Montague.
"At once, Graham."
Danny could hear the shuffling of feet.
"Now, Severus, what is this all about?"
Snape explained, ending with: "But Albus, this door was protected by a secure password, yet the boy simply walked in and has put his own unbelievably powerful protection on it. I cannot believe this was done by a twelve-year-old boy."
"Can't you, Severus? Have you forgotten the extraordinary things done by the young Harry Potter?"
"Potter! Of course! It's always Potter!"
"Severus, you're running too fast: have you also forgotten that Brian is a Slytherin Special Keeper."
"Yes . . . I had forgotten."
"I cannot believe, though, that this situation is part of Salazar's plans. I must talk to Brian."
"Yes, we must learn his story."
"I said I must talk to Brian, Severus. You are his housemaster and he holds you in great awe and respect," (Brian made masturbatory gestures), "He would be more willing to open up to someone who he knows has no vested interest in Slytherin house. Please return to your study, Severus. Good night."
"Good night to you, Headmaster."
There was a longish pause, then: "You may open the door now, Daniel."
Danny performed this complicated task and Professor Dumbledore walked in.
"Good evening, Daniel; and Brian too, I see—I take it this is the real Brian and not a Polyjuice caper?"
"I'm real," said Brian.
"And have you found out about the Slytherin Secrets?"
"There's only one secret and it's here, Sir." Danny tapped his pocket.
"Then let us adjourn to my study where we can examine and discuss it over a mug of cocoa."
"The Phoenix!"
"He's called Fawkes."
Danny was entranced and it took a lot of kindly persuasion by the Headmaster to draw Danny back to the task in hand.
"Tell me all about it, Daniel," said the Headmaster.
"Well, Sir, we ought to start at the end."
He drew out the snakeskin bag and placed it on a side table.
"This is a Dark Object, Sir, so the first thing to do is check it's not cursed—or the thing inside it. I don't think it is cursed: Salazar went to a lot of lengths to ensure it was only found by the right sort of person—by which I mean the wrong sort of person."
The Headmaster donned a pair of gloves and waved his wand; then he placed the object on something that looked like a set of chemical scales. Finally he took a feather from Fawkes and stroked an intricate pattern on the surface of the bag.
"The outside is safe, certainly," he said, "Any idea what we might find inside, Daniel?"
"Oh yes, Sir; a stone penis."
"Good Lord! I know the shape is suggestive, but how can you be sure?"
"Well, it must be, Sir: it's the fifteenth part of Osiris—the Wand of Osiris."
The Professor looked dumbstruck for a moment and said: "No, that cannot be! The Wand of Osiris has been a legend for ten thousand years. One thousand years ago, Salazar Slytherin claimed to possess it, but that was merely to enhance his image."
"Then why did he go to such extraordinary lengths to preserve it until a suitable Dark Lord appeared?" said Danny, "A thousand years of Slytherin Special Keepers; a rhyme that could only be cracked by Twentieth-Century Muggle technology; a house ethos that ensured that his complex spell for using the wand when it was found, would be achievable."
"You've almost convinced me," said the Professor, "Let's have a look at it, anyway."
He opened the bag and took out what was indeed a stone penis. It was erect, six inches long and anatomically accurate, apart from having no suggestion of sack or pubic hair. To Danny's eyes, it looked a young man's penis.
The Professor subjected it to the same tests as the bag.
"It's not cursed," he said, and ran some more tests using some extraordinary wizarding machines.
"It's the right age and it's very dark indeed," he concluded.
"I feel uncomfortable with it," said Danny, "Can we destroy it?"
"Do you mean Can or May?"
"In Mrs English's terms, I meant May we destroy it? But is Can a problem?"
"It's not straightforward . . . do you know: I believe this is the real thing. Daniel: please send your delightful Patronus to Professor Snape and invite him, with my compliments, to come here."
Danny was still not sure of Snape.
"Do you think that's wise, Sir. He sounded very upset in the Potions Corridor."
"I think he would be much more upset if he discovered that we had denied him the opportunity to see an object on which he wrote a famous treatise in his youth."
"I didn't see any works by him in his study, Sir."
"He long ago disowned all his youthful works."
The Headmaster looked hard at Danny who sent his Patronus off to Snape, and afterwards to Professor McGonagall.
When the two Professors had arrived, Professor Dumbledore said to Snape: "Severus, I would like you opinion on this object, which Daniel and Brian discovered hidden in Slytherin."
Snape took hold of the object with some disgust and, after some wandwork, pronounced: "This is a very Dark object . . . May I?"
He repeated some of Professor Dumbledore's tests, adding more of his own, then said: "Can it be real? . . . Must it be real? . . . Could anyone make such a perfect forgery?"
The Headmaster passed it to Professor McGonagall, who, after doing her own investigations, told the group: "It's absolutely filthy—I say that, not because it is a membrum virile, but because it is full of the vilest Dark Magic. I feel polluted just by handling it. Is it indeed the Wand of Osiris? Or might it be Salazar Slytherin's forgery?"
"That remains to be seen, Minerva. First I think that Daniel should tell us how he recovered the object.
Danny gave the Professors the full story. When he came to describing his interpretation of the buggery part of the rhyme, his bumhole twinged and he was aware of the refreshing (and continually refreshed) dampness within his underpants.
He felt a surge of warmth towards the friends who had proved with him that afternoon that Buggery could be a force for Good, as well as Evil.
"What is amusing, Daniel?"
"Just a nervous laugh, Sir."
Danny had in fact been wondering how many times in her life Professor McGonagall had been polluted.
He finished the tale with the chase from Slytherin to the Potions Corridor.
"How did you get in, Jorrocks, and how—" asked Snape.
"Later, Severus. First are we all agreed that this Wand must be destroyed?"
They all agreed, Snape with the slightest of hesitations.
"Then let us destroy it!"
They tried to smash the Wand, to burn it, to corrode it; they tried all sorts of destructive spells.
Brian, who had been asleep, but had been woken by the anvil and sledgehammer which Professor Dumbledore had conjured up at one stage, asked: "Could it be Vanished?"
"Not if it can't be destroyed," said Professor Dumbledore.
"Good question, though, Hudson," said Snape, missing off his invariable Five Points to Slytherin.
He must still be thinking of Brian as a Traitor, thought Danny.
"In conclusion," said Dumbledore, "we appear to have an indestructible object, yet there is the historical record that assumes Godric Gryffindor did destroy the Wand, so it was known that Godric had a powerful weapon—"
"His Sword!" said Danny, looking upwards, "The sword that Harry Potter used to kill the Basilisk."
Snape sniffed.
"Quite right, Daniel," said Professor Dumbledore, and brought down the Sword of Gryffindor.
He handed it to Danny: "Daniel, please cut the Wand in half."
"Shouldn't it be you, Sir—the most powerful—or Brian, who actually found the Wand?"
"You must do it, Daniel; you who traced the Wand of Osiris from the first overheard talk of You-know-where to the fireplace of Slytherin; you who showed courage and tenacity worthy of Godric himself. Do it now, Daniel."
Danny took the Sword and raised it over the Wand which lay on Professor Dumbledore's anvil.
A terrifying voice filled the room:
Stay your hand, chosen one! To you alone I offer Power—such Power as no man has ever wielded—Power to rule the world!
"I possess that Power already, Salazar. I have the Power to Love others," shouted Danny.
I offer you the richest Treasures—such Wealth as even the wizard Croesus could not imagine.
"I possess infinite Wealth already, Salazar: he is sitting on that sofa watching me with Friendship and Love."
I offer you Chocolate Bears—Bears that can dance such dances as were never seen by Man.
"Ooh yes! That's changed my mind!"
He brought the Sword down heavily.
A ghastly scream sounded: loud at first, then dwindling to a distant echo as the Wand of Osiris crumbled to dust.
Professor Dumbledore's voice broke the silence: "How did you know it was Salazar Slytherin's voice and not that of Osiris, Daniel?"
"As soon as I heard the voice, I knew that a man's soul was embedded in the Wand. Salazar would not have tried to save any soul but his own."
Professor McGonagall asked: "Albus, was that really the Wand of Osiris?"
"I think so, Minerva; but it existed as a mere lump of mummified flesh for nine thousand years before Salazar Slytherin loaded it with Dark Magic that included a portion of his soul."
"Then suppose," Professor McGonagall continued, "Voldemort had got hold of the Wand of Slytherin, as we must now call it, and suppose he had enacted that . . . pantomime: what would have happened? I mean, could Slytherin possess as powerful a wizard as Voldemort?"
"I imagine a speedy compromise would have been reached, Minerva," said Professor Dumbledore, "The two souls would have shared one body—comfortably, I think, as there was a blood link. The result would have been terrible: a wizard combining the powers and evil wills of Slytherin and Voldemort."
"What about the bag, Sir?" asked Danny.
Professor Dumbledore picked up the bag and tossed it into the fire.
"The ex-bag, Daniel," he said.
"What about Brian, Sir?"
"Ah, a good question, Daniel. Be assured that Voldemort will soon know that one Hudson, the son of a known enemy, has stolen the Wand. Be assured also that Voldemort will give the recovery of the Wand equal priority to the destruction of Harry Potter."
"We could remove the memory from the Slytherins, Sir."
"Alas, Daniel, we do not have the resources for such a mass-Obliviation."
"Then we must get him to his parents, Sir. He'll be safe there."
"Getting him there will be risky. Until we can devise a safe, sure plan, it is best that he remains hidden at Hogwarts. What about you, Daniel? Are you compromised?"
"I don't think so, Sir."
"Then I suggest that you go back to your house and catch up with your sleep with the sincere congratulations of everyone here."
"But Brian, Sir: he'll be bored hiding away all the time. Couldn't some of us visit him?"
"No us, Daniel! None of your friends must know about Brian."
Professor McGonagall said: "We will see that Hudson receives daytime tuition, Jorrocks, and you may do your homework together in my office at seven o'clock each evening."
Danny looked at Brian: "Okay, mate?"
"Could be worse," said Brian.
"Yeah, could have been worse places," said Danny, carefully not glancing at Snape.
Then Danny turned to Professor Dumbledore: "What about the cover story?"
The Professor paused for thought, then said: "Brian was taken into custody by Professor Snape and me, but later escaped and flew away on a stolen broom. We will notify the High Inquisitor tomorrow morning and she can deal with the Ministry. I will notify Mr and Mrs Hudson—parents only, I fear—that Brian is safe and not really missing, via your father, Daniel."
"Excellent! Then I'll say goodnight."
"Just a minute, Jorrocks!" said Snape.
"Sir?"
"What sort of a state have you left my Classroom in?"
"I removed all my Charms, Sir. I left your Password Charm in place, but with a new password."
"Which is?"
"Ten Points to Gryffindor!"
Danny had never heard Professor McGonagall laugh properly before.
— CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE —Jeg Elsker DigOn Monday morning, it was a tousled and sleepy-eyed Danny who came down to breakfast to find an alert and cross-looking Umbridge seated at the staff table. He guessed that, whatever the Umbridge diversion project had been, it was now defunct.
Judging by the urgent whispering within Harry's gang, they were also aware that Umbridge was back to form.
Fred or George saw Danny looking and winked.
Danny smiled back.
First lesson was Divination and Umbridge attended, embarrassing Professor Trelawney as much as possible.
During the lesson, Filch ascended to the classroom and emerged from the circular trapdoor.
"Pardon me, Professors," he said, "Urgent communication for Jorrocks."
He gave the letter to Danny, who read:
To: Jorrocks (G)
Please be aware that the proposed "Gay Boy Society" is banned.
Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor
"Please reply: Thank you very much, Miss," he told Filch, keeping a mask-like face and not looking at Umbridge.
"Thank you very much, Miss," said Filch to Umbridge, "Er . . . well, I'll be leaving you now, Sir."
Danny found a Sickle in his pocket and gave it to Filch.
You'll get yours later! he thought, addressing Umbridge, though still not looking at her.
At lunchtime all the talk was of Brian Hudson. The story was believed without reservation as the entrapment was confirmed by the Slytherins; the escape from custody was given credibility by the mystique surrounding SSK's; the flight by Brian's undoubted prowess on a broom.
The general belief was that Hudson had stolen a valuable ring whose likeness appeared on the carving on Slytherin's fireplace.
Angelina Johnson summed it up: "Slytherin have lost a bauble and a likely Quidditch star."
At seven o'clock each evening, Danny and Brian sat at a table in Professor McGonagall's office and worked very hard—even when Professor McGonagall was absent—spurred on by their mutual love and respect, which also manifested itself in the way their knees kept pressing together.
During Herbology on Thursday, Danny found time for a chat with Luna.
"Quibbler out on Monday, Luna!"
"Yes, Daniel."
"Good Issue?"
"It's always good."
"I mean anything special?"
"I don't know."
"Well you could do me a favour, Luna."
"I love doing people favours; is it helping you with the essay on Cranesbills?"
"No. Just let me know the night before publication if any issue has anything specially relevant to Hogwarts."
"But that's secret!"
"Shh! Secrets won't stay secret if you admit they exist. Just let me know and it'll help someone who may have something to do with it."
"Oh, I see!"
And, to give Luna credit, she nearly did see.
On Saturday, Danny was given dispensation, as a non-fan of Quidditch, to spend the morning in Professor McGonagall's office.
At Brian's suggestion, though, they sat in the window, from which they could see the hoops.
"Ronny's having a nightmare," said Brian.
"Oh, is he?" said Danny, who was, in truth, quite impressed by Ron's extraordinary contortions.
The match came to a finish and the lads withdrew from the window: "We can't let the Professors down by allowing you to be seen," said Danny.
He kissed Brian goodbye and went down to lunch leaving Brian to face the probable snappiness of Professor McGonagall—a snappiness which Brian, as a Slytherin, could well handle.
Though there was a lot of gloom about Gryffindor for the rest of the day, the Saturday night high-jinks were as merry as ever, starting with a sparkling game of Misère Whist at which Nicholas was wearing four sets of clothes by the time that David became starkers.
Danny had been tipped off by Luna that The Quibbler was out and would appear at breakfast the next day with special non-existent secrets.
All hell would break loose and he thought the best thing to do was divert Umbridge's rage towards himself and away (a bit anyway) from Harry.
He rose in the middle of the night, got up four posters for GaySoc and, revelling in his newly-developed skills, entered each of the houses and posted them.
All hell did indeed break loose when Toadface found out about Harry's interview.
Danny put the next stage of his plan into operation: he requested Snape to be a figurehead for GaySoc.
Apart from provoking a fury that might eclipse Toadface's, it was a little scratch at Snape's sexuality. Danny had sometimes wondered about Snape . . .
After such an uproarious start to the day, things might have gone a bit flat, but Umbridge stirred things up by committing the tactical error of banning The Quibbler and the operational error of frenziedly and randomly searching students for copies.
Harry Potter's new-found popularity was matched only by Danny's.
At break, he was frogmarched to the loos by Jimmy Millar and Ian Berry. He bummed Ian while sucking off Jimmy, just as he had on the first day of the school year. Was that an omen?
If there were omens about, he determined to be master of his fate, and, after lunch, had a long, loving session with his brothers.
That evening there was happy chaos in the Gryffindor common room; and what cheered Danny most was the sight of Harry and Seamus: friends again.
When his father appeared, Danny knew that he was being withdrawn from the school.
He said goodbye to his friends, marvelling that, though his closest friends knew that they would see him again, others thought it was goodbye for a long time and that things for them would never be the same at Hogwarts.
But British boys bury their emotions and it was only Stewart Appiah, straight, earnest Stewart, who shed a tear.
Then, after conjuring a Permanent Turd of unbelievable repugnance on Toadface's bed, he finally got to shag Harry Potter.
It was fitting that his school career should close with the act that he had been trying to procure since his first day.
"Where are we going, Dad?" he asked, as they walked to the front door.
"We're going to join your mother," said Mr Jorrocks, to Danny's approval.
He got into the car, noticing that his father had deemed it necessary to include two powerful bodyguard wizards. That meant that the threat from death eaters was increasing.
"Hello, Mr Bates; hello Mr O'Halloran; hello Mr Drago."
There were three Hello Master Daniels.
Danny looked at Hogwarts Castle through the car windows. There were thousands of reasons to regret leaving, but the one that came into his head was: Damn! I still don't know what Fred and George's bums smell like!
The car took off—but not for long: in response to a mutter from Mr Jorrocks, Bates landed the car on a stretch of highland moor.
"Go and fetch the little bag from the boot, Daniel," said Mr Jorrocks.
Danny went, slightly mystified, and opened the boot.
"BRIAN! What are you doing here?"
"Looking for a little squeak. I've found it."
Some hours later, in a comfortable attic room in the castle of Wagensburg, Danny and Brian lay in the best position for any pair of boys: naked and in each other's arms.
"You'll have to learn Russian," said Danny.
"OK."
"And we'll need some extra tutors to get you up to my level."
"Yeah."
"And you might think about other languages."
"I've already done the important bit."
"What's that?"
"I've learnt what I'll need in two years and nine months: Ya Guh."
"Bloody hell! What's that?"
"Danish. I do."
Danny was delighted and kissed Brian tenderly.
"Ya Guh. Is that right?"
"Yeah; and there's one we can use straightaway: Ya Eelshker Die."
"I can guess that one," said Danny, "Ya Eelshker Die, Brian."
THE END
