Disclaimer: Harry Potter, most characters and the magical world as depicted belong to J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 10:

Harry had not seen the Daily Prophet since he had somehow been abstracted from a Quidditch match. For he thought that was the last memory he had of normality, before the vague memories of faceless figures began. But now he read portions of the issues that had piled up in his office, until they came to an abrupt halt, presumably because his subscription had run out.

It seemed that there had been quite a fuss when he had disappeared. He was amused at a collection of letters to the Editor that thoroughly castigated the Ministry of Magic for not protecting him better. He knew they did their best, and maybe he should have cooperated, but he still disliked being followed around.

He met a lot of curiosity in the next few weeks, but a cool and remote air was usually sufficient to discourage questions, and when people did ask, he merely repeated that he remembered nothing.

He kept watching the newspapers. He wanted to know when the disappearance of Smith-Burton would come to light, but it did not seem to have been reported, even though he scanned through old issues that were in the library. He certainly was not going to betray that he knew anything about the man. Justified or not, he knew that he could easily be charged with murder, or at least with unlawful killing.

Murderer or not, the next time he was called to duty as a member of the Wizemgamot, just a few weeks after his return to his world, he felt not the slightest twinge of conscience as he played his part as if he were the most respectable and law-abiding person around. There was one incident that puzzled him. Mostly he was genuinely welcomed back by his peers, although many were curious, and a few asked the usual tactless questions which he fielded in his usual way. But two young wizards were pointing at him, and sniggering in such a fashion that he wondered what they knew or suspected.

Harry was glad to be alive, and started playing harder and more recklessly than ever.

One day, he bullied Severus Snape into going to a Quidditch Match with him. Snape could not manage to feign any great excitement, but Harry had him laughing. It was one of the delights of Harry's life to make Severus Snape laugh.

Margaret and Victoria's team won, with Margaret being the star of the match. It was one of the rare occasions when one team won, even though the other team's Seeker had caught the snitch.

Four days later, Severus Snape suddenly died, and Harry remembered Hagrid's words again, It's all part of life. People live, and people die. And so do the animals and the birds. That's the way it is.

Severus had become old, and Harry looked around at the people he had known for so long. Professor McGonnagal was now retired, and in poor health. John Rutledge was dead. Professor Dumbledore seemed more tired by the day. Harry didn't know what he would do when Albus died. It seemed to him that Albus Dumbledore was his anchor in life.

**xx**

Regrettably, Harry still liked getting himself into muggle fights. There was nothing like a fight to make him feel tingling with life. One Friday evening, he took on too many opponents. There was a blow to the face, and for a critical moment, he was too dazed to make himself scarce when he should have done.

He was taken away by the muggle police with a half dozen others, and charged with 'Drunk and Disorderly.' Even though he was not in the slightest bit drunk, he knew that he had been fairly thoroughly disorderly. He was not particularly disturbed. The muggle policeman was a decent man, who just explained that there'd be a brief hearing in the morning, almost certainly a fine, and he'd be let go. He was behind bars, but that didn't worry him either. If he chose, he could vanish the bars, disapparate from within, or even turn into a hawk and slip between the bars. And no-one was coming at him with injections of tranquilliser.

He lay down on the narrow bed, slept for a while, but woke trembling after one of the nightmares that he now had so frequently. These days, they would often end with that voice that woke him, a gentle and tender voice, a voice whose owner he had killed. Tears, Harry?

It always took him a while to stop shaking, and afterwards, he found it difficult to sleep.

He spent the rest of the night making friends with the two policemen on duty, who were sufficiently bored that they were happy to yarn with the restless prisoner with the contagious grin. The shift changed and the new officers were introduced to him, Officer Sullivan and Officer Ramsbottom, but within a half hour, he knew them as Jack and Pete, who supplied him with a quite decent breakfast.

Harry had been relaxed, joking, in contrast to the other men he'd been fighting with. Four of the six had considerable hangovers, but even these were quite friendly with him now, in spite of various black eyes and other bruises. But now Jack wanted to put him in handcuffs, and while he should logically have known that, like the prison bars, he could vanish them if he chose, they had a different effect. He had tried to avoid it, promising that he would make no trouble, but the policeman said that he was sorry, it was regulations.

They handcuffed Harry last, leaving it as long as possible, but he stared at the constraints around his wrists in utmost horror. He was shaking and white-faced, trying to put on a cool facade, and failing utterly.

Jack went to his sergeant. The sergeant could scent trouble a mile away, and always preferred to avoid it. He came out of his office, saw this known fighter barely keeping control of his panic, and he issued orders. The handcuffs were taken off Harry. Harry went even whiter with relief, and suddenly dropped to the floor, sitting with head lowered, trying not to faint. He was better in a few minutes, but was furious with himself. He knew that it was his own fault that he was in this position, but his own reaction to the handcuffs around his wrists had been as much a surprise to himself as to anyone else.

Jack said, "Come on, Harry, you've got to stay close to me. Any trouble, and the cuffs will have to be put back on."

Still feeling ill, Harry just shook his head. "No trouble." And he looked up then, a slightly crooked grin, "I'm really a thoroughly respectable citizen."

The sergeant was still observing. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

Still rather pale, Harry nodded.

"Ah," said the sergeant, suddenly knowing a lot more about the man. This was the kidnap victim that there'd been searching for only a couple of months ago. He had a quiet word with Jack and Pete, and they treated Harry with a consideration from then on that thoroughly irritated the other six prisoners.

As he'd been told, he was fined and released. Jebedee Shacklebolt met him as he left the courthouse. Harry was not very surprised. They did so like to keep an eye on him. Jebedee had nothing particularly to say, and was just there in case he needed help. One day, Harry thought, it was possible that the watching aurors might even come in useful, even though he still disliked being watched.

He tried to be more responsible after that. Being in trouble with the muggle police didn't sit well with his own image of himself as a respectable citizen. And he thought that James might disown him forever if he found out! The girls, of course, would think it a colossal joke!

**xx**

For a time, he was more subdued, but there was an emptiness in his life since Ginny died, and it needed to be filled.

Dumbledore quietly handed him a book one day, a new theory about a certain strange incident that had happened in Brazil. Out of the blue, Harry became absorbed in his studies again. Dumbledore loved working with him, he was such an apt pupil, and he was no longer just a pupil, if he ever had been. Harry had an offbeat vein running through him. He could come up with unexpected theories that could suddenly appear as if they were the obvious and natural explanation of a phenomenon. Albus wanted Harry to publish one theory that he developed. He felt it was a real breakthrough. But Harry's attention was already waning, and he never quite got around to it.

Before he lost his pupil, Dumbledore taught him one more thing. He led him to an empty clearing, and told him to look around.

Harry looked around. He could see nothing, and yet, there was something. He paused, and it was as if he felt the air. He stared in a certain direction, and suddenly spun around, and saw Joe Marsh, the Defence professor behind him, and he could clearly see the bluish veil of an invisibility cloak. It was like scales fell from his eyes, and now he could see another Professor, Nick Bagshott, as well, and Sturgis, one of the security guards, looking quite middle-aged now, was quietly standing in the direction that he had been originally looking.

He laughed, "Nick, Sturgis, Joe."

They cheered for him. Seeing a person when wearing an invisibility cloak was a rare skill, and one that neither Nick, Sturgis or Joe shared, try as they might.

**xx**

It was now nearly three months since he had returned to his world after being a captive. More often, he would find people giving him odd looks, sometimes sniggers, or suggestive comments of a flavour he wasn't used to, and he started to suspect that certain details of his captivity had leaked out in spite of his efforts to keep them very quiet.

He hated it, but didn't really know what it was all about. He trusted Amelia and Kingsley not to have released any hints of rape, and he didn't know about the video that had been sent to Dumbledore and was now destroyed. He thought that he and Ron had been thorough when they had destroyed all evidence of sexual molestation, and, of course, Smith-Burton and Griff had been killed and their bodies vanished. There were the four wizards who had displayed him in that park, of course, but surely it would have been in their own interests to keep very quiet. Rape of a wizard was rated in their world as a more serious crime than murder, kidnap, or torture.

Nick Bagshott, who taught Arithmancy, was only in his mid twenties. He was thin, dark, and wore glasses. He was brilliant at his difficult subject, but was also sociable and popular. Harry saw a lot of him. But Nick was looking thoroughly uncomfortable when he came to Harry's office one Monday after lessons. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said, "But I think you have to know about this."

Harry looked at him curiously as he was handed a plastic bag with something in it. He took out the video, and paled.

"It's a muggle video. Do you know how to use it?" asked Nick, and added, "Not here, it won't work at Hogwarts, I'll help you if you like." Muggle videos and their use were not widespread in the wizarding world, but they were becoming more used just lately, especially among a certain fraternity.

"I know how to use it," said Harry quietly.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Nick again, "But they're all around. - I've been offered one three times!"

He looked at Harry's face, and quickly left the office. Harry was staring at the video. This was going to be bad news.

Luckily Harry had no other duties that evening, and he took the video to his own home. He locked the door of his loungeroom before inserting the video into its slot. He wanted no-one else to see this.

It was worse than he could have imagined. There was a title, Harry Potter learns a new way, and there was music before a picture came into focus. It was the clear identification of himself, which he had seen before, and then there was a part he had not seen before, 'Harry Potter is the most powerful wizard in the world, and I am going to use him for my pleasure. But first he must be weakened. And first he must be trained to take potions to induce docility, and to keep him unconscious or barely conscious, until he can no longer resist, or does not want to resist. I am going to have his body, but if things go the way I want, he will soon be enjoying the act as much as I do.'

He saw his own chest and genitals exposed, and he saw as the masked wizard ran a tongue down the penis. Harry felt ill, and even though he was the only one present, his face burned with embarrassment. Then there was the scene where he had been bled to weaken him, to a gentle play of music in the background. This was something else new to Harry.

Clothes were done up again, and Harry was lifted to a high bed in the middle of the room. The camera slowly scanned his face, now very pale. The voice spoke again. 'He has been weakened by loss of blood. Now we will feed him the Docility Potion.'

Harry was seen from the back, apparently drinking a Potion. His forehead creased. Was that really him? He had been very sick once, and had given Hermione and Poppy an enormous amount of trouble by refusing to take either food or potions. He didn't think that he would have been so immediately docile, and the figure in the picture, although sagging a bit, no longer looked like an unconscious man.

But the next scene was definitely himself. He had seen this scene before. There had been certain alterations, though - certain deletions. Nothing was shown of injections of tranquilliser.

'He is entirely helpless, totally at my mercy!'

Harry had to admit to himself that the next scenes had a genuine erotic power, although his face was burning, and again he felt sick. There was the washing of his body and then the scene turned even more frankly sexual. He would have liked to stop watching, but if copies of the video were widespread, as Nick had said, he needed to know. But he suddenly remembered being sick when a certain music started on the video when he saw it at Smith-Burton's place, and he prudently stopped the film and fetched a bucket. He already felt distinctly ill.

He wiped his forehead, and restarted the film. He saw his own body explored again, and a kiss, and there was no doubt of the identity of that unconscious body. His face crimsoned again as he saw the next bit. 'Look, he responds!' the delighted voice had said.

The scene dissolved for a moment, and music swelled, and instead of hints of returning consciousness, and yet a third injection of tranquilliser, ornate writing crossed the screen, the title again: Harry Potter learns a new way.

The next part was shown in full, as Smith-Burton lovingly explored the body of the naked man as he lay prone. It went on, and Harry saw Griff again prepare for the rape. The camera had lingered on a large and erect penis, and his own bottom was shown, and Harry groaned. How many people were watching this? How could he ever live this down?

Griff was seen trying to push his erect penis into the man that lay utterly helpless across the side of the bed in front of him. That was when Griff had lost that penis that had been displayed to the camera. But now was shown a different ending to the story.

The camera moved back, and the vision went out of focus, and a large man successfully sodomised a smaller, black-haired man.

Music swelled, and a scene of crashing waves appeared. The ornate writing was shown again. Harry Potter is very obedient, now, and he is beginning to enjoy a new way.

Out of focus, a black haired man with a scarred face was shown drinking a potion, as loving hands caress him.

There were more scenes of sodomy then, all rather distant, and consistently out of focus, music swelling and dying away in the background. The scenes showed the recipient of the attentions apparently more and more alert, and displaying enjoyment. In the very last scene, the supposed Harry was begging for more, and was shown enjoying three different wizards, one after another.

The film concluded. 'Harry Potter has learned a new way. Now he is loving our love-making. We have all had him now, and he has forgotten that he ever had another life than being a love-toy!'

And finally, a very long close-up of his own face, scar clearly shown, apparently totally unconscious again, or it could have been interpreted as sleeping. Gradually it faded out, and the scene of crashing waves reappeared. There were no credits.

Harry automatically rewound the video and locked it in a drawer, adding some magic to seal it safe. Since his late teens, Harry's own spells appeared to be impossible to break, so it was totally safe from interference. And then he put his head in his hands, and felt very, very ill. What on earth could he do? The sniggers and sly comments he had been seeing increasingly in the last month were explained. His last ordeal had been blunted by drugs. But now Harry Potter wondered how he could go on living in his world.

At last, slowly, wearily, he got up, and walked out to the horse paddock. Seawind and Toby were both gone now, and Sheba no longer jumped fences seeking a stallion. But there was Tambo, and there were three other young horses, her foals of the last few years. They were good looking animals, all of them, often ridden by his employees and some of their children. John's muggle sons, in particular, were very keen riders, although young yet. There were two ponies in a separate paddock, owned by John, that they mostly used.

He stood surrounded by his horses, old Sheba taking pride of place, and baring her teeth at the younger horses who also wanted to press close.

It was still light, and he thought of riding, but he felt very old and tired that day, and only turned and walked slowly back inside.

He poked his head into the kitchen to tell the cook he'd like a meal that night. Harry usually ate with the live-in employees when he was home, but this time he said he'd have it in the dining room, by himself.

He slept at his home that night, but instead of the usual nightmares of confinement and helplessness, his dreams were of his lost wife, Ginny, and he woke sobbing into his pillow.

**xx**

Harry Potter was a courageous man, but he had never needed his courage more than he did at this time in his life.

In the morning, he dressed and went to work, exactly the same as he always did. And if he was quiet and wore a remote expression, he still taught as well as ever. He even hailed Nick and thanked him, saying that Nick had been right, he had needed to know. Nick was acutely embarrassed, but blurted, "It was an actor, most of it, I could see."

Harry smiled wryly, and said, "I wonder how many will see - or care."

It was that time of year preceding exams, and his time was taken up with helping prepare those students who were to sit for OWLs and NEWTs. There were no comments or sniggers from the students, and Harry assumed that the film had not so far become known among them. That was likely to change after the holidays, and he thought that James, who condemned him if he only appeared with a black eye, might never forgive him.

The Ministry of Magic knew about the video long before Harry did, and only waited to see what he would do. The films were all over the place, there was nothing now that could be done to stop them. And there was something that Harry didn't yet know. Slightly modified, the video had made its way into the muggle world, and had become very popular there, too. The problem was that those scenes of Harry really did pack a powerful erotic punch, far more than the pallid and artificial acting that is the more usual stuff of pornography. And it was not by any means only homosexual males that felt the eroticism of those scenes.

But Harry only went about his usual business, did his usual stint of spell-breaking on Wednesday afternoon, trying to ignore the discomfort of Trevor, whom, he suspected, had seen the video also. And on Saturday, he braved the crowds to go see his daughters play Quidditch as usual. He thought that Margaret and Victoria didn't yet know about the videos, but when he greeted their respective boyfriends, he knew immediately that they had seen the film.

It was difficult to forget his preoccupation that day, although usually he became totally involved in the game, to the irritation and occasional amusement of the pair of aurors who were assigned to cover his back on these occasions. They were on duty, and didn't dare follow the game.

Harry never felt guilty. He didn't want aurors following him, but had given up asking Kingsley to have him left alone. After the kidnapping, he was more heavily protected than ever before.

He wasn't protected against everything, though, and suddenly whirled around, making the aurors jump to attention. A young wizard in dressy purple robes was clutching a burnt hand to his chest, gazing at Harry accusingly, tears leaking from his eyes. Harry may have had to tolerate whispers and comments, he was certainly not going to tolerate a caressing hand on his bottom!

It was only weeks away from the end of the school year, and Harry asked Hermione not to book in any patients for him over the summer holidays. He thought he would flee abroad and enjoy the company of his son while he still could. He was convinced that when James became aware of the video, he would never be forgiven.

Ron knew about the video, although he didn't contemplate watching it. But he was very uncomfortable around Harry, and Harry felt his embarrassment. Would he never be treated naturally again? Hermione was all right. Ron hadn't told her.

Hermione was concerned for him. She had always been perceptive, and could see that Harry wasn't himself. He often had dark circles around his eyes, and she suspected that he wasn't sleeping well, though he seemed to have as much restless energy as ever. She suddenly smiled. She knew what Harry needed, and she started to make certain plans. Ron wasn't supportive. His sister, Ginny, had been Harry's wife - the idea of finding a replacement was difficult for him to accept.

The last weekend before the school holidays, Harry went to visit his cousin Dudley. He gave them no warning. Although he had not been subject to any death attempts for a while, there was no point in forgetting security entirely.

But Dudley stared at him. "How could you do it? People know that you're my cousin! You've disgraced us all!"

Harry just asked quietly, "What?" and Dudley went to his office and returned with a video. It looked a bit different from the video that Harry had seen before, but the glossy cover showed unmistakably, a picture of his own naked back, a hand on his bottom. And there was the title, Harry Potter learns a new way.

Harry was still in the entry hall, and only said quietly, "Part of it is acted, and part of it when I was unconscious. I'm sorry you feel disgraced." And he turned, walked out of the house, and disapparated.

**xx**

On the first day of the school holidays, Harry had his girls visit. They each had boyfriends, and had wanted to bring them, but Harry refused. His home was still hidden, but the more people who knew about it, the less hidden it was. Adam joined them for a short time, too. Adam was one of the few young wizards who had not seen the humiliating film, but Adam was quiet and serious, and somehow no-one had even thought of offering it to him. The twins didn't know either, so there was some respite for Harry. He suspected some of his employees knew, even though he was never treated with anything less than respect.

On the second day of the school holidays, Harry and James started travelling, just the two of them. They visited France to begin with. But Harry quickly found a problem he should have thought about earlier. James was only thirteen, he could not be left alone in a hotel room in a foreign city for an evening, but Harry Potter thought it unthinkable to do without sex for more than a couple of days at a time. From the time of his first experience, and with the obvious exceptions of illness, and in those first terrible weeks when Ginny had died, he had never gone without for more than a very few days. Ginny had been a good match, and he had never been deprived in his marriage, either.

But James disapproved of his father being unfaithful to his dead wife, and would not be happy to be left with a minder for hours at a time. While Harry may have been good at finding girlfriends, it nearly always took a little while to find what he wanted.

He finally resorted to leaving James for an hour in the charge of hotel staff, and regularly visited the high priced Paris brothel that a taxi driver had suggested. He wanted the best brothel, because he thought that the best brothels would be the ones with the best girls. The best girls to Harry, were the ones who loved sex as much as he did, whether or not they were the most beautiful. It was expensive, but Harry had never had to concern himself much with money.

James was surprisingly tolerant, to Harry's relief, but Victoria had explained about sex to James. Harry's redheaded girls looked like pure Weasleys, but they had something from Harry as well, and Victoria explained from her own experience. That sex was like food and drink. It was a physical need, and a frequent need. Harry having other women was not any disrespect to their mother.

On the third day in France, an auror appeared, watching Harry from the other side of the street. The next day Harry and James were gone without trace, and were not located again by the Ministry until they chose to come back, just a fortnight before the start of the new school year.

Harry and James had a wonderful time together, finding that after all, they had more in common than they had differences. They did a lot of shopping in exotic locations, and sent the goods home with a wave of Harry's wand. James tried to learn the technique, but it wasn't a recognised spell, and Harry failed when he tried to teach it. They did all the tourist things, too, and all the activities that could be enjoyed by the young and active.

Harry's forty-ninth birthday was spent in Turkey. They had also gone to Asia, visited Ben in Australia, and toured the pyramids of Europe. James got tired sometimes, but Harry never seemed to tire. And from wherever they were, every day or two, Harry would visit the brothel in Paris. One of Harry's unique abilities was to apparate thousands of miles at a time, and it seemed to him more desirable to return again and again to his favourite girls, than to risk a new place closer to wherever he was.

He was being very well behaved while he had his young son with him, and indulged in no muggle fights, and no risky activity of any sort - unless one counts his casual apparations from one continent to another on the other side of the globe.

***chapter end***