Hey there,

here is chapter 12, I'm very curious about your reaction... Thanks again to my wonderful beta, blacky-green.

Have fun!

Hogwarts, November 1996

In the following weeks Harry pays less attention to his runes classes and rarely goes to lessons that overlap with his basic schedule. He feels a bit depressed, he deeply misses the break from all his worries that the dates with Michael meant to him, even more so than Michael himself. Additionally, Harry feels very restless. Quidditch is his only outlet for this, so he trains hard and long, to the point where he start getting compared to Oliver Wood. The sport is the only thing that helps him relax and escape his troubles.

His friends seem a bit worried about his behavior, especially the sudden lack of interest in runes. At least Ron shares his vigor concerning Quidditch training.

The last weekend of November is the first Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor vs Slytherin. After days of rain the air is still humid and a heavy fog clouds the view. It's very cold, the players can see their breath as they stand in the middle of the stadium, waiting for the match to begin. Harry steps in front of Draco Malfoy, Slytherin's new team captain, and shakes his hand. After Madam Hooch's whistle, they all push from the ground.

It's absolutely great to be in the air again, blocking every thought about the things that go wrong in his life, Harry takes a quick lap around the pitch before looking for the snitch. In the air it's even colder, especially while sweating from the exertion and nerves.

The teams are equally matched, until the Slytherin's start playing foul - whenever Madam Hooch is looking the other way. One of the beaters hits Ginny on her shoulder with his bat, it's unclear if he aimed for the shoulder or her head. Fortunately Madam Hooch sees at least this foul that and gives a penalty shot.

After a few more minutes the Slytherin chasers outwit the Gryffindors and score four goals in a row. Ron is visibly frustrated and his lack of confidence in his abilities shows with every goal they score. Harry is so focused on his duties as a captain, that he nearly doesn't see the bludger coming at him. He pulls his foot up and out of the ball's way, but he is a second too late. The small ball grazes his ankle, which hurts terribly. Harry bites his teeth together and cautiously moves his foot. It hurts even more now, but at least it doesn't seem to be broken.

Madam Hooch flies to him, the commentator just gave a comment about Harry's slow reflexes. "Do you need a timeout, Mr Potter?", she asks him.

"No Ma'am. It's not broken.", Harry replies and looks for the Snitch again. After getting Harry the first time, the Slytherin beaters send bludgers at him without pause. With Harry out of the way they could concentrate on getting the chasers off their brooms and then would have a good chance of winning the match. Although Harry is usually very satisfied with his team, in this match his beaters prove to be lacking. They hardly ever get to a bludger fast enough to protect their team mates.

By now, Katie Bell's broom is damaged so she only flies in a zig-zag-pattern over the pitch and is no longer able to play effectively. Harry calls a timeout to bring her safely back to the ground and to cheer his team up. Everyone except for Ron has a small injury from the bludgers or the Slytherins elbows. One chaser short they restart the match and Harry is desperately looking for the snitch. He simply doesn't want to lose to Malfoy, should the blonde see the snitch first!

He flies close to his nemesis at the Gryffindor goals when he sees a small golden thing from the corner of his left eye. He turns around slowly to not draw Malfoy's attention to the snitch, but it's impossible that he didn't see it, hovering right over the staff box. Both race towards the small ball that flies away at rapid speed, hitting each other with their elbows at every point possible. In one turn Harry's injured ankle is trapped between their brooms and he hisses in pain. Malfoy seems to notice this and pushes a little harder. The snitch again suddenly changes its direction, leaving Harry with the advantage because he now a bit closer and has the more flexible broom.

His hand closes around the snitch, twelve feet above the ground. He holds it above his head, waving and cheering and enjoying the applause and the outcries of the masses. He is about to fly around the pitch when – WHAM!- a bludger hits his upper back.

All air is pressed from his body, he can't even grasp his broom before he falls and meets the ground with a dull sound. Lying with his face in the mud, he still can't breathe properly. The bludger had hit his upper back, at the shoulder blades and even the back of Harry's neck hurts and his muscles refuse to move.

Someone grabs his uniform and turns him on his back. Harry groans in pain as his back meets the ground.

"Harry! Harry, can you hear me?", Ginny asks desperately. Harry blinks at her, unable to nod. Breathing becomes much easier on his back, but is still painful.

"Can you get up? We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey." Ginny tries dragging him to his feet, but her left arm doesn't seem to work properly and Harry can't stand with his injured ankle.

"Ron, help me!", Ginny snaps at her brother who stands behind her. Ron grabs Harry's other arm and together they help him towards the castle. The still cheering crowd doesn't seem to notice them.

"That was a great catch, Harry. I didn't see whether the beater send the bludger at you before or after you caught the snitch, so I can't say if it was a legal move or bad sportsmanship. Merlin, they were so bloody aggressive, nearly everyone was injured! I'm so sorry that I wasn't a good keeper, I promise I try even harder from now on.", Ron babbles on their way up the stairs.

"Shut up, Ronald.", Ginny growls.

By now breathing is easier for Harry.

"Yeah, I'm glad it's over. What about my firebolt? It didn't fly into the Willow, did it?", Harry asks with a hoarse voice.

"No, I saw Hermione grabbing it.", Ron assures while pushing open the infirmary doors.

"Quidditch! How often have I told Professor Dumbledore that you students are too young to play such a foul, dangerous dame?! Sit down on the bed, Mr Potter. Where are you hurt?", the healer greets them.

"I got a bludger against my left ankle and my upper back."

"Remove your top then.", she demands. Behind her, Ginny's eyes go wide and she blushes. But before she can see anything, the healer puts a screen around Harry's bed.

"Oh, I see.", she mumbles while running her wand over Harry's neck, shoulders and back. "Badly bruised, fortunately nothing broken. I'll give you a paste to rub in, but your back will be sore and tender for the next week. If it's not gone before Monday in a week, come and see me. As for your ankle -" she runs her wand over his ankle that by now is swollen and red. "partially fractured. I'll give you a small cup of skele-grow. You should rub in the same paste for the next two days. You'll need a second tin...", she mumbles the last and hurries to her potion cabinet.

"How are you two?", Harry asks his friends through the screen while redressing.

"I'm okay, surely only a few bruises.", Ginny replies.

"I wasn't hit with anything. Strange.", Ron says. The Slytherin's probably didn't see him as a danger to their victory so left him in peace, Harry thinks.

The medi-witch comes back and hands Harry his potion and pastes. "These are for you. Drink this, wait half and hour, then you can leave. The next one, please!" By now, the rest of the Gryffindor team arrived and some of the Slytherins stand in a corner.

She leads Ginny to a second bed and moves the screen around it. Harry swallows the vile potion and forces himself not to vomit it onto the floor. He can't describe the taste, it is acidic and burns on his tongue and in his stomach. Soon he feel as if thousands of needles are pushed through the skin at his ankle. He lies back onto the bed and counts the minutes until he can leave the infirmary, his least favorite place in Hogwarts.

When the time is up, he sits up on the bed and cautiously puts his foot on the floor. The needle like sensation is decreasing, but not completely gone.

He nods to Ron and Ginny who are waiting and they make their way back to the common room where they step into the middle of a party. The whole room is decorated, confetti is flying everywhere, the music is loud and many people dance and sing with bottles of butterbeer in their hands.

They join Hermione in one corner.

"Are you all okay?", she asks concerned.

They all nod and fetch butterbeer for themselves.

***HP***

The party is great, but Harry is glad to fall into his bed around one in the morning. Being in bed in uncomfortable, no matter how many times Harry turns, he can't find a position in which his neck and back are not hurting.

He stands up at six a.m. just to escape his bed. A very hot shower and the bruise paste make it better, but it still hurts.

Until Ron and Hermione are up, he goes over his elven vocabulary, even putting a muffliato charm around himself and practices speaking the words. He slowly gets better at the language, but the book about basic elven charms that Athia lent him a week ago is still way beyond his level.

Hermione smiles at the sight of him reading when she comes down for breakfast. Ron is still exuberant about the Quidditch match the day before.

The week continues much like those before, the only difference being Harry's sore back. By Saturday he is just stiff and a bit sore like he is after a particular hard practice.

"Harry, why don't you go to Madam Pomfrey? You'd only be two days earlier than she expects you back?", Hermione asks.

"You could also take a bath in the Prefect's bathroom. I can't think of anything more relaxing.", Ron suggests.

Harry can think about something more relaxing, but he swallows the comment.

"Good idea, I'll do that right after dinner."

***HP***

Harry closes the door to the Prefect's bathroom from the inside and looks around. Without the pressure of the Tournament, the bathroom looks very inviting and cozy. He lets the water flow into the huge tub and undresses himself. He is still not fond of large masses of water and skeptical when he sinks into the warm water, different colored bubbles floating around him. It's hot and smells great. Harry feels himself relaxing more, the tension slowly leaving his body. Time doesn't matter and Harry is unsure how long he is there for. Two hours? Is it curfew already?

With the relaxation comes a different discovery. His magic feels strange. Usually he can't feel his magic unless he focuses on it, for example right before doing elven magic, he can feel the magic in every cell of his body. But now the feeling is somehow concentrated in his stomach. It's strange and hard to describe.

What could that be? Harry never heard about anything like that, magic concentrating in the stomach? The only thing that might be possible was one of those Mana Fever's, a group of diseases that drain the body of magic that Athia told him about months ago. But her description didn't include a concentration of magic anywhere. Harry thinks hard. Is this worth sneaking out today? On Saturdays his friends stay up longer, so sneaking away would have to wait until late in the night. But Harry is too worried not to go to the elven city and ask Athia what it could be. What if he is really ill, even dying from it? Then he'd have to fight Voldemort very soon in order to leave a peaceful world behind.

Harry slowly leaves the huge tub and dries himself with a fluffy towel. On his way to the tower he concentrates on the strange feeling of his magic. It feels like his magic, would it feel that way if it was a disease?

Harry opens the portrait and enters the common room. It is nearly empty, a few sixth and seventh years are playing various games while Hermione sits in a corner of the room, calmly reading a book.

"Harry. Are you feeling better?", she asks.

"Yeah. It was a great idea, I didn't even notice how tense I was."

"I'm glad you feel better. Sorry, but I have to take points off because you were out after curfew."

"No problem. What are you reading?"

"A book about various career choices. After the Creature Bill I'm not too sure if I want to work for the ministry anymore."

"What were you thinking of doing?"

"I thought about studying law and then working for the Department of Law Enforcement or for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to improve the care for werewolves, house elves and so on. But now, nearly being classified as a creature myself, I'm not sure anymore."

"With your marks and the many courses, you could practically to anything that you put your mind into."

"Yes, but the variety makes a choice hard. I want to do something lasting, to make this society better. And I'd like to gain my own seat on the Wizengamot, to strengthen the open-minded fraction. For that, a career in spell creation would be advisable, because there are so many things that are not yet invented. The problem is that I'm not very creative. So now I'm working through this encyclopedia to find a fitting choice."

"What about becoming auror?"

"No. You have a point in your reasoning: I too don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting. And the same goes for Ron probably, as soon as he recognizes that being an auror has as much to do with pain, death and despair as with adventure, appreciation and steady income."

"Hm. Where is Ron anyway?"

"He went to bed early with a headache."

"Whatever you decide for your career, you will make it. If you want anyone to discuss options with, I'll be there. Don't stay up too long brooding. I'm heading to bed. Good night."

"Good night, Harry.", Hermione smiles and Harry goes to his dorm. He arranges his sheets to look uses and pulls the curtains close before putting on his invisibility cloak and slipping out of the common room. Hermione is still buried deep in her book, but her eyes look like they might drop close any minute.

The way to the city is easy as Harry goes there at least once a week. As it's already dark outside, he looks for Athia in her house. She is there, seemingly on her way to bed.

"Athia. Sorry for disturbing you so late.", Harry greets shyly.

"Hi Harry. No problem, what can I do for you today?"

"Something strange happened to me. This evening I took a long bath to relax and then I discovered something strange with my magic. It somehow centers in my stomach, it never did this before. Could that be a disease? Something like Mana Fever or a disease that only elves catch?"

Athia looks at him without answering. Her look is odd and a bit shocked. The silence stretches until Harry can't take it anymore.

"Is it serious? Am I dying?", he asks worriedly.

"No. No..." Again Athia pauses for a long moment. "Come, let's fetch Ryle, our healer. She can probably explain things better to you."

Not reassured, Harry follows Athia to a hut closer to the main hall of the city where she knocks and greets a gray haired woman who is a bit shorter than Athia and looks quite grumpy. Together they go into the main building where Harry met Athia for the first time. They go along a corridor into a moderately sized room that looks like an infirmary. Many potions are held in class cabinets around the room. The old lady gestures Harry to a bed and he sits down. The old woman speaks to him, but Harry doesn't understand.

"Athia, why can't I understand her? I thought I was becoming better at the elven language?"

"Ryle is 370 years old, Harry. This dialect is no longer used in daily life. I'll translate for you. First, shed the clothes of your upper body." Harry does so and Ryle starts touching his stomach and waving her hands above it. She says something to Athia and smiles at Harry kindly for the first time.

"Wow." Athia says. "Congratulations, Harry. You are pregnant."

Harry looks at her with a frown. "Athia, this is not the right time for humor. I'd like to know what's wrong with me."

"I'm not joking. Magic centering in your stomach is the first sign of pregnancy."

"I'm a man, I can't become pregnant."

"Harry, did you have intercourse with a man?"

"Yes."

"Then there's no doubt." Harry still thinks that it's some kind of sick joke. Is there a day like April 1st in the elven world, and by chance, is it today?

"Elves are one of the very few races with the possibility of male pregnancies. It's not very common, less than five percent of all babies come from male/male relationships. It's one of our best kept secrets."

"If that's true, why didn't you warn me?", Harry asks, feeling confused and desperate.

"The last time I had contact with humans, homosexuality was taboo. Even talking about it offended people, made them extremely uncomfortable. I don't know how much that changed, how to begin this topic.", Athia explains with a pained expression.

"You didn't want to send me running."

"Exactly."

Harry pauses, looking at the two woman and then at his stomach. A baby in there?

"Are you absolutely sure that there's no other explanation than me being pregnant?", he asks Ryle.

Athia translates and Ryle shakes her head. Harry buries his head in his hands, feeling shaky yet wanting to laugh hysterically. Why do this strange things only happen to him?

"Okay. I'm completely overwhelmed, please give me a short overview what to expect." All he wants is to go back to Hogwarts, bury himself in his bed and never come out again.

Athia talks to Ryle shortly and then says. "The concentration of magic is the first sign of pregnancy, it's settled and the baby starts growing. It needs a healthy portion of each vitamin and so on, and especially a lot of your magic. Your magic holds it in place and takes over every body function that a male body lacks. It will occupy a big part of your magic, your reserves can't drop too low, otherwise the baby is in danger. Because your body is not made for this phenomena, it will be quite painful. When the baby grows, organs will be pushed away and muscles will be stretched much more than they are made for."

Athia takes a breath and Harry interrupts her. "When is the baby due?"

"The exact length of a male pregnancy is unknown, because there is nothing like the female period to narrows down a time in which the pregnancy started. Most male elves try for years before they are successful. When were you intimate with a man?"

Harry blushes at the question, but answers "My partner and I broke up on the second Friday of last month. The weeks before that, we were intimate every Friday, in the summer holidays it was two or three times a week, starting on my birthday, July 31st."

Athia translates for Ryle and back. "It's not possible to narrow the date down more, but you should have your child in June or July."

"How will the baby be... born?", Harry asks scared.

"With a caesarean. You can choose between the elven version or the manual version. For the manual version, your belly is cut open to remove the baby. The advantage is that it's relatively easy and faster than the magical version. The disadvantage is the scar, it might get infected, is painful for a few days and can lead to complications for future pregnancies. For the magical version, your belly is opened with magic, the baby is removed through something like a portal. The advantage is the lack of a scar, the disadvantage is that it takes longer, you have to stay very calm and in control of your magic, because Ryle would need to guide your magic in the process. If that's not possible, there is always the option of a manual caesarean. It would be the same choice in case of an abortion or miscarriage.", Athia translates Ryle's explanation.

This is too much for Harry. "Okay, enough of that. I'll be back sometime tomorrow to ask upcoming questions." He stands up and puts on his clothes again.

"Sure. Feel free to come whenever you like.", Athia replies. Before Harry can leave the room, Ryle grabs his sleeve and starts speaking again.

"She says you need to make your decision, if you want to have the child, soon. You might need to change your style of living and it might be too early for you, but a child is a gift you should accept with an open heart, whenever it might be." Harry smiles at the old lady and leaves.