There's no Horcrux in this story – but other accidental magic can be evil, can't it?

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Four. Evil By Any Other Name

Harry, having defeated Voldemort in a way of your choosing, married his sweetheart Ginny and took the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Our story picks up at the end of class (Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, Third Years).

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Class was finally over, and Harry had the unruly mound of rolled parchments to prove it. Didn't these dunderheads – thanks for adding that word to my vocabulary, Snape – know how to flatten their parchment before turning it in? With a sigh, he dropped his textbook onto his desk and watched as it caused several of the assignments to roll onto the floor.

Pulling his wand to summon the offending papers, he pivoted sideways and nearly stuck his wand into the ear of one Wendell Kendell. He shouldn't have been surprised to find the boy standing there. Wendell seldom grasped the lessons and often stayed behind with questions or to get additional reading. Harry didn't like to think ill of any student, but …

Wendell always tried his best; even if it was seldom good enough and more often than not downright dangerous. 'One can only hope he outgrows it – either that, or fails to reproduce,' Minerva had succinctly summarized one time. 'Five sickles says he kills himself in my class instead of yours,' Snape wagered. 'We should just snap his wand now and save the Aurors the trouble later,' Flitwick offered. Yeah, that had been a great staff meeting – too bad Albus had outlawed firewhisky at subsequent meetings.

But those were thoughts for another time, as evidenced by Wendell patiently waiting to speak as he absently rubbed his ear.

"Yes, Mister Kendell," Harry said, trying really hard to sound as if he cared how the boy responded.

"I have a question, Professor. Earlier, when we were talking about Dementors, you mentioned that Patronuses are evil, but the textbook says they are protectors made from the happiest of memories. How can that be evil?"

How indeed, Harry thought to himself, his eyes clouding over as he remembered another time …

They'd been young and foolish and so very much in love. Voldemort had been defeated mere days before, and upon his release from St. Mungo's, mum-in-waiting Molly Weasley had insisted he come stay at the Burrow.

The night was young, the air was crisp, the moon was waning … or waxing … he still wasn't sure which was which. Dang Astronomy teacher and her dang robes that were two sizes too small in certain areas.

Ginny had been clinging to him since the moment they'd left sight of the house. To this day he couldn't believe that the family had let two horny teens head off into the night by themselves. Maybe they'd confused horny-ness for clingy-relief that they'd both survived. Maybe they'd been too wrapped up in Fred's retelling of Percy wearing robes with disappearing backs to work to pay attention. Maybe they were still trying to figure out why the ghost of Mrs. Norris had taken up residence in Ron's bedroom.

Whichever it was, Harry hadn't complained. He'd just thanked Merlin for the blessing and let Ginny lead him to a private area hidden inside a copse of trees. Declaring their deep and unending love for each other, they quickly lost themselves in their fiery, lust-filled urges. Neither was aware of anything but the other … not the sounds of frogs croaking, nor the smell of the evergreen needles beneath them, nor the strange lights streaking away from their private paradise.

"You've made me the happiest man alive," Harry had whispered when it was over.

"And you've made me the happiest witch alive," Ginny cooed back. "It's like every happy memory I've ever had before this moment is nothing."

In hindsight, he could see that the entire setup was so sickly sweet, so full of romance novel clichés, that it was too good to be true.

Proof of that came when they returned to the kitchen. They were greeted by five angry Weasley men, a Granger that wouldn't look either of them in the eye, and a weepy Mrs. Weasley, who ignored their appearance to continue kneading a ball of dough so roughly she could probably bounce it like a, um, ball.

The awkward silence needed to be broken.

"You two just missed the most amazing sight," Bill finally said, breaking the awkward silence.

"Did we?" Harry asked, hoping no one noticed how his voice cracked.

"Yep, 'bout half an hour after the two of you left, a great Stallion Patronus came prancinging into the room. It brought us a strange message then disappeared. What was that message again, Charlie?"

"I believe it said, Harry … please."

Was it Harry's imagination, or did Charlie sound breathless when he said that. Ginny certainly had when she'd said it outside; when she'd begged him to put his hand there.

"Hold up," Ron said. "When did Ginny's Patronus change? And why a stallion?"

No one answered his questions; unless you count Hermione's jab to his ribs with her elbow.

Instead, Bill spoke up again. "But that's not the best part, Harry. A few minutes after that one faded, another stallion came galloping in, but this one was followed by a stag."

Bill paused, allowing that image to sink in. Beside him, Arthur Weasley was slowly mutilating his Fairy cake. The Muggle ice cube tray Harry had given him earlier that evening was forgotten on the table. Harry tried to take a cautious step towards the door, but his retreat was stopped when he stepped on Crookshanks, who hissed loudly and sunk his claws into Harry's leg.

"Now here's the strange part," Bill continued, ignoring Harry's pained expression. "See, when the stag caught up with the stallion, it tried to mount it."

"You can imagine how strange that sight was," Charlie added, "seeing as they're both male animals."

Ron turned to Hermione and grumbled, "I still don't get what the stag was trying to do. Was it trying to get on top of the horse to ride it?"

"Yeah Ronnie," Fred answered, "that's exactly what it was going to do … ride Ginny."

Harry couldn't breath … he was certain he'd forgotten how … he'd tried to pull his wand, but his hand was suddenly sweaty and it slipped from his fingers. Arthur Weasley, who had kept quite through the whole confrontation, dropped what was left of his cake and picked up the wand. Looking straight into Harry's eyes, he put it in his own pocket. Other Weasley men … Charlie, who wrestled dragons … Bill, who worked with bloodthirsty goblins … Ron, who did whatever dirty work Hermione wanted done …and Fred, who turned people into animals for fun … had started to close in on Harry ...

"Wand-point wedding," an older and wiser Harry mumbled, so quietly his student barely made out what he'd said.

"Did you … did you just way say wand-point wedding, Professor? What does that have to do with Patronuses?"

"What?" Harry startled, for he hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. Turning to look at Wendell, he hastened to add, "oh – nothing – I was just thinking ..."

But before he could think of a suitable lie, er, explanation, he was saved by the classroom door opening. From the hall, a female voice called out "hey Stud, don't forget that dinner on Saturday is at six – oh, sorry," Hermione finished, having realized Harry wasn't alone.

"Er, hello Professor Weasley," Wendell stammered out, probably wondering why his Muggle Studies Professor was calling Professor Potter "Stud". Everyone knew she was his sister-in-law. Surely she wasn't attracted to him?

"Got it Hermione," Harry called out, hoping she would stop speaking before she let any other incriminating information slip. "Thanks."

"One quick thing," she continued with a smile, "Fred asked me to tell you that he's on his last bottle of Elf Wine, and that he ran into Rita Skeeter the other day and she was asking about you and Ginny again. I think that's all. See you at dinner Harry."

As the door shut, Harry looked his student in the eye and said, "you're just going to have to trust me on this one, Wendell. Patronuses are evil."

** end chapter **

Notes: I hope you didn't mind the departure, but this popped into my mind, and I figured 'what the heck'.