Date: Sun, 21 Jan 2007 17:26:56 -0800 (PST)
From: Journeyman Harper <journeymanharper@yahoo.com>
Subject: Natural Singularity  (Gay Male/Celebrity/Sci-Fi)

Natural Singularity
By JourneymanHarper

All characters and references are protected by copyright to
their respective holders, including J. K. Rowling, Warner
Brothers, Scholastic Press, etc.  This is an unsanctioned
work of pure fiction with no relationship to any real world
entities. This work contains consensual sexual activity
between young men; if this is illegal or prohibited where
you are, do not continue.

Constructive feedback of any kind may be sent to
JourneymanHarper@yahoo.com. No flames please.

------------------------------------------------------------

He knew it would happen someday. It was bound to happen
someday. He just wasn't expecting today. It meant that some
things would be more difficult until the novelty wore off.

Carvyn shivered slightly and climbed on the train. The
Hogwarts Express blew its warning whistle, and after
settling his trunk and himself in an empty cabin, stared
through the glass at the bustle. Families wishing their
children well, the last minute warnings, cheers and advice,
the "can we get on with it already" looks of the older
children. Carvyn stared through all that, cool and detached
on the outside. Inside he felt the smallest pang of absence,
but it had always been so since he had started at Hogwarts.

He knew that this was where he belonged. He was a sixth year
student at Hogwarts. He was a gifted wizard - his teachers
all knew that. He had scored Outstanding on all his OWLs
(save History of Magic). He worked hard, was exceedingly
clever, and with his personal history it could not be denied
that he had courage and determination. Yet, born of Muggle
parents, he had been sorted into Slytherin.

"Mmmmm. A very hard placement indeed," the Sorting Hat had
mumbled. "Very clever, very determined, and with that little
secret you have survived, extremely courageous. Where shall
I put you?" It was at that moment that Carvyn realized the
hat had seen what he had been keeping so close to himself.
It touched off the familiar shame in him, just for a moment,
before he slipped back into his brooding, sardonic shell.

The Sorting Hat must have noticed that, and announced, "Aha,
my boy but though you could fit anywhere, you are best
served IN SLYTHERIN!!" The last two words were shouted. A
light cheering had taken place, as much as any other. Carvyn
was the last Slytherin at the table, and had made it through
the introductions. He had followed the other first years
down to the Slytherin House rooms, been fascinated by the
common room with its reptilian accents. Things had not gone
well thereafter.

Slytherin House prided itself on pure bloodlines, along with
its devious and somewhat suspect character. A Muggle-born
wizard was automatically lowest class. Malfoy had seen to
that. The first year was difficult, until the strength and
talent of his magic had shown through and even the Ravenclaw
students gave his academics a grudging respect. Not that
many knew of his academics. It was his habit to work quietly
and alone, never first with a solution but never last. That
first year he discovered the joy of the Hogwarts Library,
and that became one of his habitual spots. He had learned
most of the secret places in Hogwarts that first year as
well, to avoid the persecution by the other Slytherins. Soon
though they could not deny that he brought them House Points
at least, and had left him alone.

"Can we join you in this cabin?" Carvyn roused from his
reverie by two girls looking for room. Pansy Parkinson and a
friend. He turned toward them, made a small gesture, and
said, "If you would like to, please do."

His cloak had obscured his face, and when Pansy and her
friend realized who he was, a spread of emotions and
expressions transfigured her face. First, irritation and
distaste upon recognizing him. Then, her mouth dropped
slightly and a soft "oh" escaped her. Sensuality surged in
her for a moment, and then her original stance was replaced.
Really, a third year student could do better! She and her
friend started elsewhere, with a more neutral "perhaps some
other time" response. Her friend was grinning.

Carvyn resumed looking out the window. His reflection caught
him momentarily. So much had changed this summer. He knew he
looked good. Not even good, but hot. Dark brown hair worn
long.  A finely stenciled face, only just recently come into
its masculine mature shape. Light brown eyes that normally
faded into obscurity, but when focused lit like tough bronze
that sparkles deeply in the firelight. Defined eyebrows that
were quite agile should anyone notice. Strong chin. Classic
looks. And a cute little dimple when he smiled . which,
catching himself, was never. The dark brown cloak suited
him, with its somewhat worn cowl and frayed hems. Without
it, his hair was his cowl. He had learned long ago to hide
his face.

So much had changed. When he had gotten his Hogwarts letter,
along with the explanation charm that had come to educate
him and his parents about the Wizarding world, he had been a
loner boy of eleven. Awkward, underweight, with an
unfortunate complexion and out-of-scale looks, he had long
since distanced himself from his public school peers. He had
spent most of his free time out on the fields, wandering
mostly, but being content alone and surrounded by nature.
His parents worked for the Ministry of National Defense, and
as a result were very busy and had little personal contact
with their son. Carvyn had grown up this way, if not happy
at least unperturbed, with only two things that had any
impact on his life: Music, and that he wasn't and wouldn't
ever be interested in girls.

He had studied the piano for years, and if his teacher had
recognized it they would have labeled him a prodigy and a
genius. But for Carvyn, music was his outlet and no
instrument gave him the venue he needed. He joined the
elementary school band and learned clarinet, but that didn't
help. One by one he went through instruments, becoming
proficient quickly only to find out for himself that he
could not express what he needed to in music for that
instrument. His parent's thought him flaky, though they
could not deny his talent.

Carvyn had finally settled on the recorder as his
instrument. That did not go over well. His classmates
mercilessly teased him about playing the "whistle" and the
kiddie toys. It was too bad that no one was sufficiently
knowledgeable enough to recognize Carvyn's talent for the
genius it was. But at least there was no one who was able to
replace or compete with him. Although there was no place for
the recorder in the band or orchestra, it could still be an
ensemble instrument, but didn't need to be. And he could
take his recorder anywhere, even to Hogwarts.

That had been a disappointment. Hogwarts didn't have any
kind of a music program. Not that there was time for much,
but Carvyn would have liked to have some time for music.
Most of his music now had either been played solitary out in
the fields around Hogwarts, or from the top of the Owlrey.
That had been funny, as the owls had tried to join in with
much enthusiasm and little success.

Again, Carvyn pulled back to reality as the door to the
cabin opened and two Slytherin third-years stepped in.
Carvyn looked at them, with their noses so high in the air,
and he gave them his best withering look. It worked, they
left for another cabin. Those two had been insufferable last
year, and Carvyn wanted nothing to do with them, even if
they were Slytherin.

The door banged open again and in slid three Gryffindors.
Carvyn generally bore no rancor to the other houses, and in
fact still had little positive contact at all with the other
students, but these three came with a reputation and a
history.  Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and however
unlikely, Harry Potter.

Carvyn stood up to make room, removing his cloak to put into
the racks above. He had settled back down when Harry caught
his attention.

"Sorry mate, but you dropped this on the floor." Harry
offered him the parchment that Carvyn had been worrying
about for the last three weeks. "Carvyn, this is Luna and
Neville, all Gryffindors.  Bit early to be summoned to
Dumbledore's office already this term?"

"I'm Carvyn, Slytherin. As the train is full, please be my
guests." He didn't quite mean it to come out so odd, but his
internal coolness had been shattered. Harry had recognized
the note, apparently getting enough of his own. Harry was
also really, really really attractive. His hand shook a
little as he took the note of parchment back.

Luna brightened and looked up from her upside-down magazine.
"Oh, you must be Carvyn de Sernin, the Muggle-born
Slytherin! I've read all about you. Were you really involved
in the scheme to turn all the Golden Plimpies blue?"

Carvyn had seen Luna from afar, and knew her as somewhat
odd. This only confirmed it. Giving her his chill stare, he
replied stiffly, "I've never heard of such a thing."

Luna was not put off. "Oh well, not everyone is so well
read. May I sit next to you? You really have improved this
year. I saw you last year once or twice and you really
needed a little primping. And I like the way your voice
sounds now, too."

Luna would never take a hint. Neville could, and he bailed
her out. "Come on Luna, sit here. He's dodgy. Best let Harry
sit on his side."

Dodgy. Well, he would take it. Being "dodgy" around three
notorious Gryffindors is about right for a Slytherin.
Besides, he knew why would Dumbledore wanted to see him now
before term.  He had been to Dumbledore's office several
times. The first was most memorable, and it had involved his
Head of House, Professor Snape.

When Carvyn had been two weeks at Hogwarts, he had settled
into a routine. Because of his muggle parentage, the other
Slytherins had decided to make him suffer, and as a result
his bed had been regularly defiled in various ways, so
Carvyn had taken to sleeping on one of the sofas in a
hallway alcove on the Slytherin level in the castle. Filch
had found him, and roused Professor Snape, who had
immediately cast some kind of surveillance spell before
escorting them up to Dumbledore's office.

"Mr. de Sernin, I trust there is a reason for disturbing us
at this late hour."

Carvyn had put up his coolest, most distant demeanor, and
addressed the Headmaster's question. "Sir, I was sleeping
outside the Slytherin rooms."

Silence. Snape stared at him. Filch rubbed his hands in
glee. "Headmaster, I caught `im down in the alcove outside
the picture of Ugblatt the Unlovely."

Dumbledore looked at Snape. "Severus?"

Snape slowly responded, "Filch brought him to me. Why he is
here is because, to all the warding spells over the
Slytherin rooms and my own bed-check scan spell, he is still
there, and not here. Yet his bed is indeed empty."

Carvyn shook slightly. Dumbledore regarded him quietly, then
said, "Anything to add, Mr. de Sernin?" Carvyn could almost
see a twinkle in his eye. Carvyn realized that he needed
Dumbledore on his side, and truth could be his tool here.

"Sir, my bed was not in a usable state tonight. I had to
find somewhere else reasonably safe to sleep."

"And why would your proper bed not be safe?"

"Sir, its current inhabitants are dangerous. I have cleared
them out before and warded the bed but I can feel it when
the ward is broken. That is how I know when to sleep
elsewhere."

"And what was in there tonight?"

Carvyn hesitated. He hadn't actually seen the creature, but
his warding spell had given the image of a reptile like
creature with an incendiary back end. "Sir, it is a Blast-
Ended Skrewt."

Snape's eyes bugged out. Dumbledore chuckled, and said,
"Severus, you will have to rescue his roommates from the
creature shortly, I think." He tapped the table
thoughtfully. "Carvyn, please explain how you are in this
room yet the castle and its staff believe you are in bed
with a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

"Sir, I had been caught out once before by Professor Snape."
Snape nodded. "I had found several spells that together
would project a part of me in my bed. I needed a few hairs
and stuff, and was able to adapt them to do this."

Dumbledore stared at him. "Which ones? Suspensio?"

"Actually, I used Engorgio, Integratio, Protego, and Specula
Audio Perodicia."

There was quite a silence. Dumbledore sent a look at Snape,
and then responded. "You lengthened, then combined a couple
of hairs. Why Protego?"

"I needed something to give the weave some mass and
substance." Carvyn looked downward. "I know that some of
those spells are difficult, but I really needed to use
something."

"My boy, what is more surprising to me is your ability to
integrate them into a piece of sophisticated coherent magic.
Sometime we shall have to discuss that. But not now."
Dumbledore turned to Snape, saying, "He is entitled to a
safe bed, you know. Settle him in his. Mr. de Sernin, please
wait outside for a moment before joining Professor Snape on
your way to your proper bed. Please do not hide your absence
at night, as it is for your own safety that we know where
you are and where you are supposed to be."

"Yes, sir." Carvyn was not about to argue. As he stood
outside the office, he overheard very carefully when
Dumbledore told Snape to keep an eye on him and to watch for
further nastiness.

From that moment onward, his bed had been a safe zone.
Carvyn was not sure what Professor Snape did, but the
attacks on him also slowly abated until he was left alone,
which suited Carvyn just fine.

The jolt on the train brought him back to the present. Harry
was sitting next to him. Harry and Carvyn had shared a
number of classes. The "Weasley Factor" usually kept Harry
from seeing Carvyn, but by the same token Carvyn was alone
and made no effort to be noticed. Something though had kept
throwing Harry and Carvyn together. When the famous
threesome of Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't together,
somehow when Harry truly needed someone to be there, it was
Carvyn.

Carvyn knew that Harry loathed Slytherins, mostly because of
Malfoy and his friends. In the early years the friction was
complete and without real reason. It wasn't until last year
that individuals began to emerge beyond the House
reputation. Malfoy obviously was the king of arrogant prats,
both to Harry and to Carvyn. There were Gryffindors as well
that had been awful to Harry, and of course Carvyn. The
difference was that Harry had stayed in the forefront,
gathering the fame and the blame. Carvyn faded into the
background, unobtrusive. In fact, Carvyn had gotten so good
at quickly fading into nowhere that it was the most
frustrating aspect of Slytherin management for Severus
Snape. Snape had occasionally tailed Carvyn, but never more
than for a couple of minutes because Carvyn would lose him.

A whistle caught his attention as some of the girls walked
by in front of the snack trolley. Carvyn got up, and asked,
"Anyone want anything?" Carvyn only indulged himself in the
dark chocolate. After completing his purchase, he glanced
down the hallway to see the girls blushing and smiling shyly
at him. He went back to his seat.

So much had changed. That was what the crux of the day had
been. He was no longer awkward. No longer a bad complexion.
He had grown considerably, muscled up, and picked up the
natural grace of a craftsman. The summer's work had done
that for him, and more apparently. For the first time, he
had also been able to find clothes and robes that were
comfortable that actually fit him well. The first to notice
had been Madam Malkin, when she measured him for the very
dark brown robes he preferred. She had actually dropped the
tape measures and stared at him for almost half a minute
before regaining herself and finishing the fitting. Perhaps
that was why it took longer, as she had made many more
measurements this time. But when he was wearing them, for
the first time seeing himself in robes in the mirror in
months, he was fundamentally shaken with just how sexy and
incredibly hot he looked. Long legs, trim waist, tapering
outward slightly to his shoulders. Lanky, but controlled.
Very light-footed. Some of that had been from his summer job
as well. The rest came from his summer evening activities.

Harry was aware of Carvyn's knack for disappearing. He had
grinned when the girls had started to ogle Carvyn. He
remembered what that was like from the TriWizard Tournament.
He also knew that Carvyn wasn't going to be able to
disappear as easily. He chuckled quietly to himself.

Carvyn regarded Harry. "Would you like to share what is so
amusing?"

"I . um ..," was not going well for Harry. Harry had had to
look Carvyn straight in the face and he was caught by the
eyes, but also by the mature and very good-looking face of
his friend. "I was remembering how awkward it can be to have
a bunch of girls look one over like a piece of meat." Harry
grinned widely now, on safer ground. "As they just did for
you. You must have had one hell of a summer to come out
looking as terrific as you are."

"Girls. These are very foreign to me." Carvyn quietly went
on, "I have not been interested in them; nor have they in
me." Suddenly Carvyn felt that Harry could help him on this
one. To be sure, he quickly muttered, "Duo Privicia", then,
"You must have learned to survive it. How do you deal with
it without going nutters?"

Harry recognized the presence of magic; this one however was
a gentle audible caress on his hearing that blocked out
noise. Carvyn had been his friend of a sort, meaning that
they had similar challenges from their peers, and though
they did not seek each others company out, when one needed
the other the support was given without question. Yes,
Carvyn was a friend, and one who would keep the truth
protected.

"I've found that there are three approaches. You can either
play along and prance like a popinjay, totally ignore them,
or find someone to form a couple with, and until you break
up they will leave you alone. The Yule Ball last year was
just horrid that way. Ron, Seamus and Dean all took the
third one."

"What about you..," Carvyn started, and then the realization
hit him. Harry Potter could be gay. "You really don't care
what the female interests are, do you?"

Harry suddenly felt very vulnerable. Carvyn had the power to
ruin him. "Caught on quick, didn't you? I'm kind of
undecided - I've found more boys than girls that I am
interested in. I am sure you must know what would happen to
me if that got out."

Carvyn rewarded him with one of those rare smiles. "Well
Harry, it takes one to know one."

Now it was Harry's turn. His jaw dropped. "Really? I would
never have guessed." They sat for a minute. "Does anyone
else know?"

Carvyn shook his head. "Not at Hogwarts. Honestly Harry, you
are the only person I can call a friend of any sort here.
Who knows about you?"

Harry stared off for a moment. "Ron, Hermione. Though I
suspect Dumbledore knows."

Carvyn face fell. "Dumbledore knows everything."

"I recognized the note, of course. Want to talk about it?"

Carvyn felt the privacy spell eroding. Taking a chance, he
grabbed Harry's hand quickly, and said, "Harry, we're two of
a kind. Who knows what is going to happen. I've had some
powerful urges towards . well, sex, . and I want you to know
that if you get caught up in the same, I am here for you,
totally discreet, no matter what. Okay? I've never needed
anyone yet, but I'm used to being alone. I don't think you
are. I'm invisible at Hogwarts and you are not." He let go
the hand. "My privacy spell is wearing off, so we're back in
public shortly."

Harry sat dumbfounded. Oddly, he realized that his thigh was
pushed up against Carvyn's, and that contact tingled within
him, and caused a stirring in his groin. "Deal." And then
impulsively, "Same goes reciprocally. You aren't alone and
you aren't invisible at Hogwarts anymore."

Carvyn blushed, "Thanks." A warmth spread through him that
he hadn't ever felt before - the investiture of trust in
another human being.

The cabin door banged again. Neville and Luna jumped, each
being absorbed their own books. Malfoy and crew stood in the
doorway.

"Well Potter, looks like you have properly joined the
Outcast Car. Not all Slytherins make it to greatness, so de
Sernin should fit right in." Draco Malfoy sneered at the
group, noting quickly that no one had their wands out yet.
"Perhaps a bit of fun for us?" He, Crabbe and Goyle grabbed
their wands. With dismay, Harry realized that his was in his
trunk.

"Tre Randantalle!!" Carvyn was on his feet, wand out and had
already released the spell before the other Slytherins could
cast theirs. There was a moment of oppressive pressure, and
then it was gone. Satisfied, Carvyn sat down again.

Malfoy hooted loudly. "Spell go wrong already?" And he cast
a nasty skin-boil hex at Carvyn. Crabbe and Goyle did
likewise. Harry started for his trunk.

Carvyn regarded them calmly, with his best "snarky Snape"
haughteur. "It is temporary; it will only last a couple of
hours."

It took a moment for Malfoy to realize that nothing had
happened with his hex. Crabbe and Goyle were trying to hex
everything in sight, and it wasn't working. Their wands were
idle pieces of wood in their hands.

Malfoy drained pale. "What have you done to our magic!!" He
raised his fist, only to be met by the taller and more
threatening Carvyn. "I'll see the headmaster about this! My
father is on the Board of Governors!"

Carvyn replied, in his most bored voice, "I applied a magic
inhibitor on each of your wands, for now. As I said, the
effect is temporary, though long enough that you won't cause
problems on the train ride." He snickered slightly. "You
know better than to tangle with me, Malfoy. Or do you want
to start the term from the hospital wing?"

"You will regret this." And with that, Malfoy, Crabbe and
Goyle left, sauntering up the aisle. Trouble was, all this
had taken place with the door opened, so as they unfortunate
threesome made their way through the train, so did the story
of their humiliation.

Back in their car, Neville was shaking. Luna had backed into
a corner, but was more curious than afraid. Harry was
halfway to his trunk. Carvyn sat back down, and said, "Wands
out I would expect."

Someone closed the door. The rest got their wands. Neville
was the first to speak. "You sounded so much like P-P-
Professor Snape. How did you learn that?"

"Imitation. Necessity. It takes a proper attitude and good
vocal control."

Luna spoke up. "Um, I noticed on that spell that you used
that it wasn't straight out of the book. You were able to
modify it to those three nasty boy's wands, and not ours.
How did you do that?"

Carvyn looked at her. They looked back at him, noticing that
he looked somewhat sheepish. "It takes some skill and vocal
control. This isn't the best time for it. But you won't find
the technique in a book."

Harry regarded Carvyn thoughtfully, but said nothing. He was
still tingling from the caress of his voice and the gorgeous
body that Carvyn had now.  And the offer that had gone with
it.

Carvyn gazed out the window. Not long to Hogwarts.

Neville spoke up. "You were telling us about your note from
Dumbledore."

Carvyn had spoken outside the classroom more in the last two
hours than he had in the prior five years. Oddly, the
circumstances seemed right. "I was offered a particular
honor, and I turned it down. Dumbledore wants to know why."

Like a light coming on, Luna jumped up. "They made you Head
Boy?? Why ever did you turn it down?"

Carvyn was surprised that it would be that obvious. "How did
you guess? I haven't told anyone else. And PLEASE don't put
this in the Quibbler."

Luna looked disappointed. "Daddy would have liked that
story. But I understand, I think."

Harry and Neville were aghast. "How could you turn that
down?" asked Harry. "No one has ever turned it down. It's
the school's best honor!"

Carvyn shivered slightly. "I wasn't ready to deal with it.
Head Boy has a lot of visibility. I don't think I'm up to
it. In fact, I know I am not up to it. I don't even want
it." He quietly added, "I'm not able for all that."

There was a period of silence. Neville was the one who broke
it. "Look, I don't know you well. But I do know this: you
seem to want to be invisible. It doesn't work. Deeds have a
way of finding you anyway. And with your looks and your
talent, and your Slytherin ties, even if you were invisible,
you aren't anymore." He pointed to the window, where several
Ravenclaw girls were peeking, and not at Harry.

Harry had to giggle. He stood up and smiled his best smile
at them, and they suddenly became aware of themselves and
moved on. He looked back at Carvyn, then remembered
something. "You also are also the only one in the castle who
can play an instrument. Really well, I might add. I have
heard you once or twice down by the lake. Have you ever
played with Hagrid or Professor Flitwick?"

Carvyn stared again, then surrendered. "No, neither. I
didn't know they had an interest in music. My music is my
own, something that I had even before my magic." He faltered
slightly. "I never realized anyone else heard it."

"Well, I did, and I know surely Hermione and Ron, although I
don't think they gave it any notice. I did because I knew it
was you."

Carvyn felt his distant demeanor surround him as he said, "I
had started playing more the last couple of years after my
parents died. They had never understood about my music, and
after that I had to play more or I would have gone insane.
Dumbledore must have known, because he showed me the Room of
Requirement where I could use an instrument that didn't
exist in the castle. One that would help me the most." He
sighed, "It did, and after about two straight days of missed
classes I emerged as the -" he stopped, then finished, "me
that I am now."

"What instrument?" Luna had to be the one to ask. Harry knew
already.

"Le Grand Orgue - the pipe organ of the French Romantic era.
I played it, and it was perfectly attuned to me and what I
wanted. I played for two days straight, and on the final
page of Liszt's "Ad Nos, Ad Salutarum Undam" I knew I would
survive." He was greeted with blank looks. "It is probably
Liszt's most monumental work for organ. Fiendishly
difficult, exquisite in texture and color, yet throughout
the fifty pages of music all the C harmonies are minor. And
at the top of the final page, as if the sun were to rise and
never set again, on the absolute full organ we play a ten-
figured C major chord." He shuddered violently at the
memory. "I have experienced little like it. And as I said, I
knew at that point that I could go on."

Harry had tears in his eyes. He remembered that kind of a
moment in front of the Mirror of Erised. He had also noticed
something else. The train had stopped. "Carvyn, thanks for
being here. It was a pleasure. I hope we can be better
friends, despite our houses."

Carvyn stilled a moment. "Yes Harry, we will. I know it.
Remember my offer." For a moment, the wistful smile played
along his face and the dimple popped into view. Then the
roar of exiting students started, and Harry watched the
features on that gorgeous face slide down into cool but
watchful detachment. "Watch yourself, Harry, I feel
something is afoot against you."

They unloaded their trunks to be sent to their rooms, and
began to walk up to the castle. At the Great Hall, they
split, the Gryffindors to their table and the Muggle-Born
Slytherin to his. Hair in place as his cowl hiding his face,
he was greeted with the usual "oh well, have to put up with
HIM again" attitude. From the boys anyway. The girls were
whispering and sneaking looks at him. Damn that Pansy. He
cast his gaze across to the Gryffindor table and its usual
happy activity.

After the meal, he made his way to Dumbledore's office.
"Fizzing Whizbee". The door spun around and admitted him to
the Headmaster's office. The Headmaster himself was seated
behind the desk.

"Greetings, Marquis de Sernin."

Carvyn still started when he heard that. "I still look for
my father when people use that title." He slipped into his
distant but subservient posture. "You asked to see me,
Headmaster."

"Quite. No one has ever tried to turn down Head Boy before.
I would like to know why."

"It must have been a mistake, to offer it to me. I have none
of the social skills or charisma that is required of a Head
Boy. I do not particularly see that my magic is that strong
or notable."

"That was quite a nice prepared speech, Marquis. Now, as
Carvyn, tell me why you are trying to turn down the Head Boy
title. Please sit down."

Carvyn edged into an overstuffed chintz chair. "Headmaster,
I don't want it. It really is counter to the routine that I
have used during my education at Hogwarts. I like that
routine. I get along marginally with my other Slytherins,
other than the Malfoy clique. You know why I have been to
your office each of the prior times. I learned to deal with
my misfortunes."

Dumbledore regarded him steadily. "Head Boy is not a social
pillar, Carvyn. It is an acknowledgement of incredible hard
work, strength, talent, and in your case, innovation."

"But sir, while it is not a social prize, it is an academic
one that comes with social requirements. I can't deal with
that."

"You will have to learn. Three points: First, Head Boy is an
award, not a negotiation. The Hogwarts faculty unanimously
approved your selection. I can't undo it, and I won't undo
it. Second, Hogwarts graduates well-rounded students, Head
Boys or not. You must become less of a recluse. Head Boy
will force you to deal with that issue. Third point: By all
accounts at dinner tonight, you have become a most
attractive and desirable young man to capture more than a
third of the gossip. I can see why, now. You must have had a
very maturing summer. One way or another, you will have to
become accustomed to it."

Carvyn was stunned. "A third of the girls at Hogwarts? Why
should they think about me? I could care less about them."
Ooops.

An awkward moment, then from Dumbledore: "Well, you are full
of surprises. I think you are in for an interesting year."
He caught a twinkle in the Headmasters's eyes, and then
closed his own. Pulling back his most distant, remote
demeanor, he slowly reopened them to meet Dumbledore's
kindly look.

"Carvyn, there have been many gay students through Hogwarts.
Your preference is safe with me; but know that all of the
faculty are discreet. It is a normal and accepted choice in
the wizarding world." He straightened, then, and held out
his hand. "Congratulations, Head Boy." Then his face got
very serious. "The last Head Boy to come from Slytherin was,
of course, Lord Voldemort. There is bound to be speculation.
Don't pay attention to it." And with that, Carvyn, Head Boy,
Muggle-Born Slytherin, and the Marquis de Sernin was
dismissed.

Indeed, so much had changed. Unseeing, with his "I'm not
here" face on, he wound his way down to the Slytherin
dungeons. His first encounter was Malfoy.

"Look, it's the Head Boy! Must be a restroom attendant!"
Snickers from his clique.

Stung, infuriated, and suddenly empowered, he pulled his
cowl back to reveal his face. "Malfoy. Of course. Your wand
working again now? Or maybe you have to ferret out its
magic?"

Malfoy went white. He never got this kind of resistance from
his favorite punching bag. "We'll see, mudblood." They
stalked off.

Back in the dormitory, things were the same. Malfoy was the
usual git, but one look from Carvyn was now enough for him
to cease. Carvyn still was the first one out of the
Slytherin dungeons in the morning, and last to come in. Some
routine was intact.

The first change was about three weeks into term. A second
year potions student, terrified, was getting a thorough
reaming by Professor Snape about his potions work, in the
Common Room no less. Snape had a tendency to overdo, and
this kid was getting an overload. He'd already wet his
pants, dropped his books, and had tears in his eyes. Carvyn
went over to intervene.

"PROFESSOR, I think you have made your point. If young Allen
has his assignments, I will sit with him until he is capable
of completing them on his own." He turned to Allen, grabbed
his books and arm, and propelled him through the door.
Behind him, he heard the total silence of the Common Room
Slytherins and their Head of House. "Very well, Marquis,"
muttered Snape, with malice.

Carvyn jammed the young boy into an empty classroom.
"Lumos." Some light grew in the classroom. Allen was an
average second-year boy, shaking. "Carvyn, I, uh . thanks."

"First things first. Lento Gente Scourgify." Allen's clothes
were now clean and dry. "Now, what is the problem? Potions?
Practical, or written?"

"Practical. Can't seem to get anything to come out right.
Not even the Cleansing Potion. I've tried a dozen times
now."

"Cleansing is straightforward. What keeps you from doing
it?"

"Concentration. Every time I try to get into what I am
doing, either something happens or ." little Allen paused.

"Or what?"

"Well, . uh ."

"You mean Professor Snape does something obnoxious or mean,
and you go to pieces inside. He does that to everyone. I'm
going to teach you two things right now, and you will do
them. Then we will do the Cleansing Potion correct the first
time."

Carvyn taught him first a relaxation and focusing technique
he had learned from his own exercises. Then, he taught him
the Amuffliata spell. "You all will know about Muffliato,
which obscures your conversations from others. Amuffliata
does the opposite - it shuts the world down a bit so you can
concentrate." They then went and did the Cleansing Potion,
on the first try. And Allen did so, on his own, the next
day, and the next.

It wasn't until the end of that week that Severus Snape
caught up with Carvyn. Carvyn had had the Common Room to
himself for a little bit. Several other Slytherins, all
young, had approached him for the same kind of help, and
Carvyn had given them the needed instruction. Firmly. He was
not about to start an entourage of his own! Anyone who got
help from him got it as if from a patient professor, not a
friend.

Snape never knew quite what to do with Carvyn. Here was a
sorry excuse for a Slytherin, a pure Muggle-born, who was
now the only Slytherin Head Boy since the Dark Lord. It was
as if Granger had been Slytherin, but duct-taped her mouth
shut. However, what he was planning now was well-understood
business. Head Boys had the obligation of teaching a class
in place of a professor if one was not available. Snape knew
that Carvyn could teach the second-years potions class, but
that the attention and the responsibility would be
excruciating for him. Snape could make him do this even
without the Headmaster's approval. He curled his lip in
anticipation. He so liked to try and make that boy squirm,
and it so rarely worked.

"Mr. de Sernin, or should I say Your Grace, I would like a
word with you now."

Carvyn rolled his eyes. Why did Snape have to be so
difficult! "Of course, Professor." And then, on a second
breath, "If we could dispense with the notion that I am a
Marquis, since I am a Marquis of an estate worth very
little, it might make our conversations easier."

Snape's nostrils flared. This was a confident response.
Obviously, the invisible student had matured. In fact, he
recognized some of the inflections and tone as similar to
his own. Imitation, interesting. Obviously mastered. "As you
wish. My time is valuable, as you are aware." More
posturing. "I am going to have to surrender a class for the
entire term. As Head Boy, you are available to us as a
resource for such. I need you to teach Potions at the second
year level."

Only Carvyn's stone-like control was able to keep his
reaction under cover. To be the object of attention, twice
each four days a week for forty minutes, plus detentions,
extra help, and . meals at the faculty table?!! In an
instant he knew that Snape was doing this to make him
miserable.

Snape barely sensed any reaction whatsoever. Very good,
though his eyes gave him away. Panic flooded them. Snape
decided to add salt to the wound. "Your invasion of my
instruction of Allen gave me the idea, especially after you
managed to correct him, give him the tools he needed and is
now performing above standard in Potions." The roiling
continued. "Your continued display of educating skills has
reinforced the idea to me." Snape leaned in close. "You want
to be a teacher? You are as of now."

Carvyn had heard him, but it hadn't penetrated yet. He had
begun to ease a little, though. He could easily teach second
year Potions. And he wasn't the object of attention during
class except during instructional periods; most of the time
it was lab exercise. And, he realized, half the Slytherin
second years came to him for help in various classes
already. It would be painful, but he could do this. And
without all the terror that came with Snape.

Carvyn looked back at Snape, with that aloof, distant look
again that even pervaded his eyes. Snape had caught the
change and recognized it for what it was. Acceptance.

"You will have a formal curriculum, access to the supply
cabinets, antidotes and counter agents ready for me?"

Snape handed him a book. "I have spelled the appropriate
resources for your access. This is the curriculum." Snape's
eyes blazed for a short moment, and then said in his
deepest, most threatening voice, "Do not fail me in this."
And then he turned and swept away.

Carvyn sat down hard. He had to teach a class, for a whole
term.  He was relieved that he didn't get the first-years
who knew nothing. Second-years at least had basic instincts.
It all suddenly came crashing down on him. And if he didn't
hurry he would be late for his own class work. And at least
it was a Friday, so he didn't have to start teaching until
Monday. He got back to work.

That evening found him outside the Great Hall. He had no
desire to go in there. True, Monday he was faculty. Head
Boys who taught classes ate at the faculty table. Dumbledore
surely would have had a place for him, though he was sure
Snape would have enjoyed the discomfort of Carvyn looking
for it. Fortunately, as he was standing outside the Hall, he
saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna. Carvyn quirked
an eyebrow, which brought Harry over to him.

Harry grinned at him. "I didn't think you could get out of
the Head Boy thing. It just wouldn't be allowed - tradition
and all, you know."

Carvyn replied, "You don't know the half of it yet. Snape
has decided to invoke the Head Boy teaching obligation.
Starting Monday, all the second year Potions belong to me."

The rest had come over to join him. Harry apparently had
indicated how un-Slytherin he appeared. Hermione offered her
congratulations, as Head Girl. No one had asked HER to teach
anything.

Harry looked Carvyn over. Yes, there was a great deal of
tension present. He needs to get out more often. "Hey
Carvyn, we're going to Hogsmeade. Come with us. I'll buy you
a round of butterbeer for congratulations."

Leave it to Ron. "Harry, he's a Slytherin."

Harry turned on Ron. "Ron, remember I was almost a Slytherin
too. Lighten up." It didn't matter. One butterbeer in Ron,
and he and Hermione would be off on their own for the rest
of the night. He grabbed Carvyn's arm, surprised a little
that Carvyn flinched, and dragged him along. The Three
Broomsticks was their destination.

It was crowded. Carvyn had been once or twice to Hogsmeade,
but never to the Three Broomsticks. He listened to the
camaraderie amongs the friends, and as predicted, Ron and
Hermione bailed out. Carvyn began to relax just a bit.
Butterbeer had that effect - relaxation, and a lowering of
inhibitions. Since Carvyn was all about inhibitions, they
slowly watched the Head Boy unwind and follow his humanness.
Finally, after midnight, Neville, Luna, Harry and Carvyn
made their way back to the castle.

The night was dark. Carvyn had had five butterbeers, and was
feeling very mellow. A faint vigilance still hung with him,
but there were no threats around. He stumbled, and then
remembered: he had brought his recorder so that he could
work out the anxiety through his music. He stopped walking
for a moment, and called the others over to him.

"Before you absconded with me to a delightful night like
this, I had been going to play some music and work things
out. I still need to do that, so I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry had been trying to ditch Neville and Luna all night.
Harry had been unable to take his eyes off of Carvyn. The
intimacy developing while Carvyn had slowly unwound had
gotten Harry so excited that he had had trouble sitting
still. With a realization, Harry understood that this was
one of those crazy moments where his body screamed for sex.
And Carvyn had made him an offer.

And gorgeous, sexy, intense Carvyn had made him an offer he
was not going to refuse.

Harry jumped on the opportunity. "I've loved your music in
the past; can I come and listen?"

Both Luna and Neville declined. They set off back towards
the castle. Carvyn and Harry headed for the cliff.

Carvyn had found his usual spot, a chair-like indentation in
the rock. The waves crashed beneath them. The stars were
out, and a gentle breeze blew. Carvyn sat down with the
recorder, and for an hour played through torturous but
captivating musical lines. Harry was amazed at what those
long, slender fingers could do dancing across the holes on
the recorder. A fleeting thought went through Harry: he
wondered if the same technique could be applied to a more
personal "instrument."

Finally, it was too much and Carvyn fell back laughing. It
still amazed him that he could laugh. "Five butterbeers, and
the Ricercare is too much! You are a patient man to wait
through all that."

Harry grinned. "I really enjoyed that. There was just so
much feeling coming through on the music." Harry came over
and they sat closer. Their legs touched briefly and Harry
felt the touch to the core of his being.

Carvyn might have, but instead he said, "I have one more,
just for you. It's called the Butterfly." And he proceeded
to play three variations on the same theme, a lilting,
caressing theme in the beginning, just off expected rhythm.
The second variation proved more rhythmic, and the third was
a stunning display of virtuosity. Harry was charged by the
end of that; Carvyn was equally charged.

"Wow, that was incredible. I got so caught up in it that I .
I . uh .," Harry had some trouble here, as at this point
Carvyn had leaned over and kissed him. Short but lingering,
Carvyn pulled back, uncertainty in his face.

Harry was breathless. "Carvyn, remember that deal we made on
the train? I need some of that, now."

Carvyn had promised. Carvyn would be happy to help them both
out. "So do I." And the kiss resumed in earnest. Their hands
sought each other, kneeling now, as their tongues slowly
writhed and danced about. Eyes closed, breathless, they
pursued the kiss and the stroking through hair, shoulders,
chest, and then eventually down along the graceful but
slight curve around buttock. They closed in upon one
another, and could feel the hardnesses between them. Harry
was first to groan at the contact, and finally broke away
from the kiss, panting.

"My God, that wonderful!," Harry gasped.

"Me too. I had no idea it could be like that."

Carvyn began to regain his surroundings. A very early
morning light was beginning to ease around the lake. "Harry,
we are going to be awfully exposed up here soon."

Harry looked up at Carvyn. Very carefully, he said, "I think
we have the beginnings of something special here, with us. I
think I want much, much more together. But I also think I
have had what I needed most: potential with you."

Carvyn hugged Harry briefly. "I think perhaps you are right.
I know it wasn't the butterbeer. When we find our next time,
we will know better for sure." He shook his head. "My life
is upside down. Or maybe right side up for a change. Lets
head back."

Carvyn and Harry worked their way back to the castle. Carvyn
took them through a concealed side door and started in. In
the last moments of darkness, Carvyn took hold of Harry and
they shared one more delightful, intensely deep kiss before
separating. Carvyn knew Harry would have an interesting day.
His own had some odd potential.

Rather than change, Carvyn headed to the Great Hall for
breakfast. He usually caught the opening of the hall as part
of his routine. This being a Saturday, he had homework,
essays, and the entire task of preparation for the Potions
classes. Snape had given him the curriculum book, which had
all the grades of the students as well as all the lesson
plans. This was not going to be easy. He tried to think
about what made his teachers effective to him, and from that
create a strategy that would do the same to them. After
hours of the curriculum and textbook, he had a plan.

Argus Filch found him in the library. Looking as disgusted
as usual, he motioned Carvyn to follow him. Curious, he
followed Filch down near the Potions classrooms to a small
door at the end of the hallway. Filch unlocked it, and gave
Carvyn a key.

"Yer office." Filch grumbled, "'asn't been used in a while,
but that's yer problem. Snape said you `ad to `ave it." And
then he shambled off.

"My office." Carvyn knew he would need one as a teacher, but
to actually have one was . cool. He went inside to find a
small quarter-round room with a desk and several chairs, and
about a decade of dust. Dry, though, with one long window
near the top. He looked at the desk, and for one fleeting
moment imagined Harry spread out over it, naked, caught in
the throes of orgasm. And he was .

Carvyn shook himself out of it. Where had THAT come from?

Fortunately, cleaning up a room is not a difficult task, and
with the proper effort he put the place to rights. He
retrieved his things from the library. He found Filch, and
politely asked him for a bookcase. Filch grunted, muttered,
but by evening on Saturday there was the bookcase. And then
it was time for dinner.

Carvyn made his way to the Great Hall, along with the mad
rush of younger students. Yes, the food was good but for him
the company rarely was. He took his seat at the end of the
table. What surprised him was the number of younger students
who sat at his end of the table too. He could also tell that
they had a question.

He looked at them. They giggled. He rolled his eyes and
said, "Go ahead and ask. I don't bite."

Allen was first. "What is it like to have long hair? Our
parents won't let us do it, but it looks so, well, hot."

"I like it long for a number of reasons. One is anonymity -
being able to hide in a crowd." They seemed enthralled. "I
have to wash it every day. And no, I never put it up in a
bun like Professor McGonagall." That caused a round of
laughter.

"Are you really a Marquis?"

"Yes, but it is overrated. I have an estate, small, but it
takes a couple of hours a week to keep it financially sound.
I'm trying to get it out of debt."

"Will you ever play your music for us?"

Carvyn paused at that one. He said, gently, "Probably not.
When I play, I expose my innermost emotions and feelings.
Not something you do in public." He then mentally revised
that statement. "Maybe, if the situation were right."

"Why was Filch grumbling at you today?"

Carvyn regarded the questioner with interest. "When did you
see that?"

"On his way to Dumbledore's office to get a bookcase."

Great. He hoped the Headmaster was not taken off guard. That
would be Snape' s problem, but the fallout would be his. He
told the group, "Yes, it was needed because I didn't have
one in my office."

They gasped. "You get an OFFICE?"

"Careful now. The Head Boy who, incidentally is obligated to
obey the teachers, and who has been given the second-year
potions class to teach from now on, was assigned a small
dusty odd-shaped room where he could harass his students."

They giggled. Young ones giggled so often. It was then that
one of them saw Professor Snape's gesture. She said, "Um, I
think Professor Snape is looking for you?"

Carvyn moved his gaze up to the faculty table. Sure enough,
the scowl was there as Snape pointed to an empty chair at
the left end of the faculty table. Wincing slightly, Carvyn
got up. "Looks like I have to go sit with them." He winked
and then moved upwards along the Slytherin table towards the
faculty.

He saw the leg come out at him, and stepped over it. Malfoy
again. Driven by sheer malice, he reached over and patted
Malfoy on the head twice, in an ultimate condescending
gesture. The hall had gone quiet, but now chattered with
humor at that one gesture. Carvyn could hear Harry giggle,
but continued his way up to the faculty table and took the
end seat.

Professor Snape stood up and addressed the Hall. "While you
may not call him Professor, those of you who are in second
year Potions will provide him with the same respect as that
position demands. My schedule can no longer accommodate your
class this year, and it is customary that the Head Boy take
on a teaching assignment if needed." Some clapping came from
a group of Slytherins at the end of their table, but Snape
just glared at them. Let me introduce Mr. Carvyn de Sernin,
who will speak a few words for us." Snape sat down.

Carvyn knew it was coming just as Snape had stood up. He had
closed is eyes, put on the truly aloof expression, and on
cue, stood up. What the hell, he thought. In a sexy
intonation, he heightened his voice, "I am sure that we will
have some interesting times in this class. I am grateful to
Professor Snape for the opportunity and hope to be able to
maintain his class standard. Second years, you will not find
me easy." It wasn't what he said. It was the way he said it.
Someone totally in control, unrelenting, intense, with that
smooth velvety baritone.

Snape glared at him, then smirked as Carvyn sat down.
Dumbledore did not look happy. He had fixed Severus with a
most irritated penetrating glare that clearly said, "you
have some explaining to do."

Eating at the faculty table was an experience. Carvyn found
that his formal home schooling was paying off finally, as he
could eat attractively in public. Well, maybe not eat. He
could manipulate the silverware but was really not
interested in eating anything. Next to him was Professor
Trelawney. She ogled him for a minute, offered her
congratulations with her Inner Eye knowing he would have a
distinguished task, and that this certainly must be it. It
was an awkward meal.

Professors' Snape and Dumbledore left quickly. Professor
McGonagall came over to Carvyn as he was rising.

"Don't worry, you will get used to it," she said, referring
to the scrutiny. "Though you are reticent by nature, I know
you will try hard. What Severus is doing is obviously beyond
me." She regarded him thoughtfully. Gad, he's cute. Makes me
want to be young again. And that voice.

Carvyn broke through her reverie. "I think it is relatively
clear, but you would have to be Slytherin to understand. I
am reticent. I am very uncomfortable in the spotlight. I
have spent most of my years in Hogwarts studying, learning,
growing. I am an embarrassment to Slytherin; remember, they
call me the Muggle-Born Slytherin, even to my face. No
matter; it is true. But Professor Snape has put my
convenient skills to his advantage out of malice, forcing me
into increasingly uncomfortable situations for me."

Professor McGonagall stared at him. Carvyn continued, "It
may not be the entire motivation, but when was the last time
Professor Snape gave up a class? And why did he do it
without consulting the Headmaster?" Carvyn's eyes suddenly
lit as if on fire. "But I will not give him the pleasure of
his success. So many things have changed for me since last
year." He felt the hairs pricking behind his head, and he
shuddered. "I also have a feeling that something is going to
challenge that again very soon."

Professor McGonagall could not find words. It must be like
living with a target on your back. Lamely, she ended the
topic. "Well, I think you will do fine, and the experience
could be useful. You do the title of Head Boy proud." And
she swept away. Amazing that at her age she could still
"sweep " like that.

The prickling remained as he exited the hall. And so also
did Malfoy and his entourage. Malfoy was furious, his face
echoing the lack of any kind of control. The pressure, the
Dark Mark, something had driven Malfoy over the edge. Carvyn
felt it and so did all the other students in the hall. They
quickly got out of the way and on the stairs to watch.

"YOU!! YOU FILTHY STINKING MUDBLOOD! Head Boy, and now
putting the entire house to shame!!" Malfoy raged.

Carvyn looked very coldly back to him. He knew what was
going to happen. He had already assembled the spell
components in his mind. Malfoy was a formidable opponent as
a schemer, but not so much as a wizard, much to his father's
dismay. Might as well get one good dig in before the
inevitable happened. "Five points from Slytherin for
unseemly behaviour and language."

Malfoy looked up and his jaw dropped as a little tinkling
sound counted off five less for Slytherin.  Carvyn couldn't
believe it had actually worked. The castle at least
acknowledged him as a teacher.

With a roar, Malfoy began flinging hexes at him. "Absorbo
lento PROTEGO sostenuto!" Carvyn was ready. Counterattacks
would escalate the battle and get them both expelled. Hmm,
Head Boy expelled for dueling. What a concept. This spell
group relied on the Shielding Charm, but tweaked it to
slowly absorb the effects of the other spells cast on it and
not bounce them off. It would hold for a while, but not hurt
anyone else, except him. Some part of the spell always made
it through. He could already feel the Stinging Hex begin.

Malfoy was bewildered. Nothing seemed to get through. He
totally lost it, and with all his hatred behind it he flung
out the one he could not explain away: "CRUCIO!"

Inside the shield, Carvyn felt that one. The aching spread
through him, even though his modified shield had reduced the
effect, it was slowly becoming saturated. He would have to
act soon, and against Malfoy. Suddenly he had an idea. But
Malfoy would have to exhaust himself first.

The duel - or more like attack - had gone on less than a
minute, when Malfoy stopped, dropped to his knees, panting
for breath. Quickly, Carvyn dropped his spell and stood over
him with his eyes glowing fire. Hood back, Carvyn said,
"What a shame. Even your best didn't have any affect on me."
He pointed his wand directly at Malfoy. "Don't try it again.
And if you do, we will go find a private place where no
students can get hurt, and hack away at each other until I
win."

Malfoy was shaking uncontrollably. Crabbe, Goyle and a few
others had already gone into the background. That meant a
teacher was coming. A real teacher. Snape appeared,
approaching the stairs.

"I do NOT want to deal with this now," thought Carvyn. He
noted that the hidden door through the ceiling arch in the
alcove to his left was only a few feet away, so when
everyone noticed Professor Snape arrive, Carvyn put his wand
away, slipped the three feet into the alcove, and gave his
usual almighty jump up to catch the rung, and swung in to
the next hallway. That is how to slip out of a picture,
thought Carvyn.

"Wrong," said the Headmaster, standing in front of him. "My
office." Somehow, Dumbledore had figured out his escape
route, anticipated him and cut him off.

Twenty minutes later, the whole story was revealed. Snape
was positively trembling with rage at Malfoy. Carvyn had
done more than he could have done to defuse the solution; it
had been the ideal answer. Suddenly, Snape saw an
opportunity.

"Mr. de Sernin, please remove your robes."

"Right here?"

"Leave the pants on," drawled Snape.

Carvyn removed his outer robe, revealing his bare skin from
head to lower waist. Dumbledore exhaled sharply, as did
Snape, for very different reasons. Snape had never seen a
more delicious student body. The remnants of the spells
Malfoy had used were still present: sting marks, a gash here
or there, and some discolored bruises.

"What spells were used against you?"

Carvyn went down the list, except for the last. Snape picked
up on that one. "There is one more you are holding back from
us. Out with it!!"

Carvyn stared Snape in the eyes, cold and disgusted. "He
used the Cruciatus Curse on me, SIR."

Dumbledore looked at Carvyn. "If you press charges, he could
be sent to Azkaban for that."

The Marquis Carvyn de Sernin considered that. "No, I don't
think so. I don't want to press charges." He looked at
Dumbledore. "This is a Slytherin matter; no other students
were involved from any other house. I don't know how to deal
with it, but as Head of House I would let Professor Snape
figure out how to correct Malfoy. His upbringing seems to be
most at fault, not the person himself."

Dumbledore stared at him. Carvyn decided to defuse the
tension. "After all, Albus, your perspective is biased,
given your Gryffindor alliances."

The twinkle returned to Albus Dumbledore, who knew exactly
what Carvyn was trying to do. "I shall discuss it with
Professor Snape right now. Wait here." And the two walked
off a short distance.

Carvyn now felt the impact of the duel throughout his whole
body. Picking up his wand, he muttered several spell
components that ended the stings, the boils, the stupid
stuff and most of the Cruciatus curse.
He sat down in one of Dumbledore's chairs, totally drained,
and proceeded to take an unplanned nap.

Dumbledore and Snape returned to find him half naked in the
chair. It was Snape who noticed that his injuries were all
but gone. "Severus, muggle-born or not, this boy is
incredible. He should at least have had an overnight in the
Hospital Wing for all that, but to heal himself as well..and
he doesn't even want satisfaction."

Snape curled his lip. "After that, he will have it. And I
WILL get through to Malfoy."

They woke Carvyn. "You should be in the Hospital Wing."

He rose slowly. "No, thank you, I think I will be just fine
once I move about a bit." He stretched a little, feeling his
body respond with little complaint. "I've been through worse
than I feel now."

Snape had reduced now to a deadly conviction. "Mr. Malfoy
will be corrected under the House system. I would entertain
any suggestions you might have that would be appropriate,
seeing as how you are the principal victim. He would
potentially have a multiple year sentence at Azkaban, if
here were of age."

Carvyn looked out the window. "Since he is not quite yet of
age, what would customarily be done?"

"Expulsion from Hogwarts. Release to his parents for
suitable punishment."

"It would not serve to expel him from Hogwarts." Carvyn
faced Snape. "He has been winding up for this ever since our
last confrontation last year. I am sure that the other
pureblood families have been looking to him to take me
down." Carvyn allowed himself one chuckle. "More than
anything else, he probably needs some good old-fashioned OTK
time."

"OTK time?"

"Sorry. Muggle term. Over The Knee. A spanking." Carvyn
looked out the window again. "Possibly a month of detentions
doing something unpleasant. Problem is, he is likely to turn
a martyr for that if it goes on too long."

Professor Snape glanced sideways at Carvyn. Would he do it?
If given a direct order, would he go through with what Snape
just started to plan?

Carvyn caught him in the glance. Something chilled him.
Snape was up to no good.

"Professors, I believe I would like to return to my
dormitory. Where is Draco Malfoy?"

"Mr. Malfoy is confined to the dormitory right now, in an
unused part."

"I have no problem with that." Carvyn put his robes back on.
"I am sorry that this could not have been prevented. I don't
bear him any rancor."

"Why not?" Dumbledore enquired, curious.

Carvyn thought a moment. "What would be the point?"

Both professors recognized the sincerity in that statement.
One of the underpinnings of Carvyn's life had been no
regrets, no grudges, especially with the ridicule of the
other students over the years.

Carvyn made his way back to the Slytherin common room. He
spent a long time staring into the fireplace, watching the
flames burn. Another form of potions, the chemical
ingredients combining to produce energy of a physical sort,
undirected. It called to him, playing with his eyes, his
being. He couldn't let it rest.

The other students had long gone to bed. He thought of the
fire component for spells: Incendi. He thought of setting
Malfoy on fire. Bad idea. What though if instead of the
consuming form of the component, he used the change form:
Oxidi? Wizards used Oxidi to perform the same process as
Incendi, but without the destructiveness. Then it hit him.
An exchange. Scambio was used in a very different context,
but exchanging energy with matter could be realized. A
reversible fire-conversion spell. It didn't fit
transfiguration, which was done on objects, not energy.

He had to try it. He had already began assembling the
components. Scambio would provide the glue that handled the
conversion. Incendi would define the end state. Corporalis
would define the end-state for the counterspell, which would
have to be wandless. Yes, if he did "Ex Scambio Incendi
Inclusivi" then he should achieve the correct
transformation.

If not, he would be dead.

Why not?  Who would miss him? He stood up, staring at the
fire, moved to the stone floor, and muttered, "Ex Scambio
Incendi Inclusivi." He closed his eyes as a ring of tingling
swept over him.

He felt good. Really good. In fact, he felt like he could
fly. He opened his eyes to find that he had indeed become
fire! Existing as energy, he could move about, through the
air. He didn't have hands or feet or anything, but when
looking in the mirror he could perceive that he was a core
of heat exchange with a perimeter.  This would take more
study, but not now. His perception had detected another heat
source in the room. Minor one. Time for the counterspell.
"Ex Scambio Corporalis Inclusivi". A chilling sweeping
feeling, and he was back standing on the stone floor.

"BY THE SHADE OF MERLIN!!" Snape screamed at him. "What the
Hell was that?"

Carvyn let him be. "Something I'd been working on. I was
rather surprised it worked. The trick was in the use of
Scambio instead of."

"Not now!" Snape cut him off. "I have decided the punishment
for Malfoy. You will probably find it entertaining."

"Why am I involved? I was hoping to put this behind me by
now."

"Because of your . mercy, shall we say? Or perhaps your
charitable nature? Anyway, you were the victim and he is not
in Azkaban because of you. You will need to administer the
punishment, both as a faculty member (which you are in a
way) and to set an example. Malfoy responds most to public
humiliation; you will administer that."

"And just what am I supposed to do?"

Snape grinned. It was a scary sight. "Spank him, of course.
You gave me the idea yourself. Some - OTK time - bare-assed
naked. In front of the whole of Slytherin house."

Carvyn stopped. "You want me to spank Malfoy, naked, in
front of Slytherin? I won't do it." The impact hit him. "I
can't do that."

Snape looked at him, "As a direct order from your Head of
House, you must. It sends the right message."

There was a long silence. Then, in a very odd voice, Carvyn
whispered, "All right. We'll do it your way. How long?"

Snape drawled slowly out, "Half an hour. With your bare
hand. No faking; he has to be bawling before I will stop
you."

"When?"

"Tomorrow, before breakfast."

"And afterward?"

"He will be confined to Hogwarts."

"His parents?"

"Will know nothing unless someone tells them."

Carvyn turned to face Snape. "All right, you bastard."

"Tsk tsk, Mr. de Sernin. I might decide the same for you."

"I know better than to give anyone a reason for that."

Snape left the room. Carvyn stood there in growing anxiety.
He needed Harry, and soon. And with that thought, he
realized that there would be someone who would miss him if
his spells went awry: Harry Potter. That awareness flooded
him from top to bottom. He had to see Harry soon.

So much had changed. If Snape wanted a spectacle of this,
then Carvyn would give him one, although maybe not one he
would quite expect. He allowed himself a rare, first-year-
like giggle. It was after 11:00 at night. He still had a
couple of hours to prepare. That bastard would not get him
caught unprepared, damn it! In this he was referring to
Snape. Malfoy had never been the issue.

Early morning broke. All of Slytherin knew something was up.
Professor Snape had directed the earliest risers (including
the first, which of course was Carvyn) to wake the rest and
assemble at 7:15AM, before breakfast, but dressed and ready
to go. While they were getting ready, Carvyn went to see
Malfoy.

"Bastard. Muggle-born mudblood."

"Oh, come off it Malfoy. Do you know what is going to happen
shortly?"

"I'm going to be spanked at your suggestion."

"Wrong. Snape has dictated that you, in front of all
Slytherin, will be stripped naked, and then spanked, over
the knee. My knee. This was not my idea."

"Shit." Malfoy had to sit down for that. Carvyn continued,
"What you don't know is that this is Snape's latest ploy to
get back at me for being that mudblood Muggle-born who
happens to be Head Boy. Like it or not, in what happens
today you are less the focus and more of a tool to Snape."

"Why tell me this?"

"Because I am going to use you as a tool back at him. It
will actually make it somewhat easier on your ass. But when
this "correction" is over, I want a cease-fire with you and
your entourage."

A moment of humanity. "Agreed."

"Now, come with me. We aren't friends, I know humility isn't
your thing, but we are both Slytherin and at least the whole
of Hogwarts isn't witnessing this. Remember too, this is
supposed to hurt. You are a big boy. It's better than
Azkaban."

They went to the common room. The entire house was gathered
around a large chair, a small table with a glass of water on
it. Carvyn had put it there because it seemed right.
Nonchalance would not be appropriate; more, the air of a
good-natured competent student doing a tedious task. Malfoy
was walking slowly in front of him; Carvyn had his hand on
his shoulder, and was surprised that his arm was shaking. He
did a quick relaxing reflex, and the arm stabilized
somewhat.

Professor Snape appeared. "Pursuant to yesterday's
deplorable lack of self control by Mr. Draco Malfoy, he will
be punished and corrected by our Head Boy, the Marquis
Carvyn de Sernin, whom also has the role of victim who had
received injuries. Proceed." He folded his arms, ready for a
show.

Carvyn took a very deep breath, shuddered and addressed the
student crowd. "There is a tradition of flogging in the
English Admiralty which has well-defined structure that I
daresay would be appropriate to use here. My family has a
history there; I have studied it. Therefore, from this
moment onward we will be following a centuries-old
procedure, although not a Wizarding one." There was some
muttering about flogging, and Malfoy turned totally white.
"There will be no flogging today however."

Carvyn turned to Professor Snape. "Professor, in your role
as Head of House you have decreed that this punishment will
take place: Draco Malfoy to be stripped and thoroughly
spanked by a competent peer; is this correct?"

Snape's eyes pierced Carvyn. Snape knew what Carvyn was
doing and more so, that he was aware that he himself had
just lost. "That is correct."

Carvyn: "Said competent peer is the Head Boy, myself and
victim?"

"Correct."

"Commencing now and until Professor Snape declares
complete?"

"Correct, though not to exceed 30 minutes. We do want our
breakfast." A general nervous titter through the crowd.

"Mr. Malfoy, you accept the punishment?"

"Yes."

Carvyn was drawing this out like a courtroom. The more
structure it had, the less personal it would seem, and that
is how he won against Professor Snape.

"Authority transferred to the competent peer to begin?"

Professor Snape wondered at that one. "Yes. Begin."

Here it was. "Mr. Crabbe, please remove Mr. Malfoy's robes
until he is completely naked. Mr. Goyle, you will find a
five-minute hourglass timer on the shelf in the corner.
Retrieve it and prepare it. Mr. Malfoy, every five minutes
you will be required to state the nature of your misdeed.
Mr. Goyle will indicate when it is time by asking you, "What
was your misdeed" followed by "What is your solution." I
will inform you whether you are correct or not." He looked
at Goyle. "Sit at the table and follow my instructions."

Malfoy was naked. Crabbe had moved back. Goyle had sat at
the table. There was no more avoiding this. Carvyn sat down.
"Mr. Malfoy, you will lay across my lap face-down."

Malfoy was bright red from his hairline down to mid-chest.
Carvyn couldn't help noticing that his manhood was hard.
Malfoy noticed him noticing, and turned even redder. Malfoy
carefully lay down across his lap, his hardness on the
inside of one thigh and his balls on the other. Carvyn
whispered, "Make your self comfortable."

The student crowd went silent. All was ready. "May God Have
Mercy on Your, uh, Soul." That drew a nervous laugh. "Mr.
Goyle, turn the timer and ask the questions."

"What was your misdeed?"

"Attacking another student."

Carvyn: "Close but not good enough."

"What is your solution?"

"To be more thorough next time!"

Carvyn: "Wrong." And he brought his hand down hard on
Malfoy's left buttock with a resounding crack. Malfoy gasped
and his whole body arched. Carvyn brought his hand down even
harder on the right buttock, and tears formed in Malfoy's
eyes.  Malfoy then realized what Carvyn had given him: "Its
better than Azkaban." A mental lifeline to cling to.

Five minutes passed. Malfoy's ass was completely pink.
Malfoy had not cried out. "Mr. Goyle, ask the questions."
Carvyn had a drink from the glass of water. The water was SO
essential to the dry, procedural nature of the image he was
trying to convey.

"What was your misdeed?"

"Attacking another Slytherin."

Carvyn: "Correct."

"What is your solution?"

"To choose a better opportunity."

Carvyn: "More fundamental than that. Remember Professor
Snape's statement of accusation." And Carvyn started again.
He knew this was hurting Malfoy. Deep down, he also knew
that he was enjoying this. Malfoy had a smooth, white ass
with just the right curve from thigh to the small of his
back. Carvyn moved his targeting down a little onto those
upper thigh areas.

Five more minutes passed. Silence from the student crowd.
They all knew and saw what was going on. "Mr. Goyle, the
questions."

"What was your misdeed?"

"Attacking another Slytherin."

"What is your solution?"

"I must regain my self control AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Carvyn had
realty whacked him across the red and stinging buttocks.
"Correct."

And so it continued. At the end of the fourth increment,
Malfoy was bawling, uncontrollably twitching and shaking.
His waist to mid thigh were bright red. Professor Snape
decided enough was enough, and called a halt. "You may
cease." Everyone there saw Carvyn's eyes go on fire, lean
over to Malfoy, whisper something, and then pulled his arm
back and applied one almighty WHACK that sent Malfoy
screaming. "Mr. Crabbe, you may give him his robes.
Professor, this activity is completed." He helped Malfoy to
his feet, and into his robes.

Professor Snape dismissed a very somber crowd to breakfast.
Malfoy looked at Carvyn with grudging respect, still with
tears in his eyes, and a strange hunger. Carvyn just said,
"It's better than Azkaban."

"Yes, it is." Malfoy paused, and then, "I understand now
about Snape and the context you changed on him. That was
bloody brilliant." He left the room.

Carvyn was the only one left. He just stood there, looking
at the floor, the room. It was over. He left the Slytherin
dungeons and went to the Astronomy tower. He sat down
quietly on the floor in one corner and put his head in his
hands. He did not go to breakfast. Alone at the highest
point in Hogwarts, he withdrew into himself, shutting out
the world. He was miserable. He had done what he had to do.
He had to pick up his emotional pieces and get on with it.
Hell, he had to teach a class today.

It was too much. The coercion, the loneliness, all hit him
at once. He didn't tell anyone but he was still in pain from
the duel itself. No one had asked. No one had cared. Carvyn
screamed in hopeless frustration, not just any scream, but
spell components he barely understood. Thunderous
detonations went off around the tower. Fireballs circled;
lightning cracked. And then silence, as Carvyn fell to his
knees at the top of the tower and cried. The tears flowing,
the racking dry silent sobs and heaves. And then it was
over. No one would have seen. No one cared. He was alone.

A number of people noticed. But no one found out it was he.
Before anyone could work their way into the tower, he
descended and took the back stairs down to his little
office. He had a Potions class to teach today. Plus his
other workload. Shortly after he arrived at his office, a
house-elf popped in. It was Dobby, who was friends with
Harry. He didn't say anything, just looked at Carvyn. A
small tray of breakfast appeared.

Carvyn smiled at him. "Thanks, Dobby."

Dobby looked at him some more. "It was you on top of the
tower." And then he popped out.

Finally regaining some of his feeling of normalcy, if that
was possible, he went to the Potions classroom. He entered,
surveying the room. His ruling realm. He sat at the desk and
laid out the notes. Today was to follow more potions that
were restoratives. He began writing the instructions on the
blackboard. He left his cowl up on purpose, covering his
face.

He was finished before they all had entered. They had taken
their seats. This was the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw group. He
turned around and addressed them.

"As you are probably aware, I am not Professor Snape. As he
explained yesterday, I will be taking over this class for
him." Carvyn pulled the cowl back and gave them a glare. "I
concede that I am not as scary as Professor Snape. But I
have been instructed to be as meticulous a teacher as he
would be. The transition should be easy."

The students stared at him, quietly, attentively. Then a
couple smiled. Two girls rolled their eyes. "Now that I have
your attention, we are continuing restoratives. Today's
assignment is a Body Warmth Potion. The instructions are on
the board; the ingredients are in the usual places. The
instructions in your textbook will produce an adequate
potion. However, if you ." he went on to explain the
subtleties of why one crushes some ingredients versus paring
them, chopping versus slicing, bronze knives versus silver
knives.

He stopped, turned and noticed that they were all copying
furiously in their notebooks. He sighed. "Just remember, it
is important to know why you use a technique, not that you
can just replicate any idiot's directions in the book." This
drew a giggle from the class. "Are there any questions?"

Carvyn could have heard a pin drop. Then, one girl raised
her hand. "Should we call you Professor?"

The simplest of questions.  He didn't have an answer ready
really, but replied, "Carvyn would be fine. Anything in an
emergency."

"Will you have extra help sessions?"

"If needed. I have a very small office down the hall, which
is where I will be the hour before and after class. Other
times by appointment."

One boy raised his hand. "Something happened this morning
before breakfast with the Slytherins. Can you tell us what
it was?" Furtive looks among the students told him that some
knew already. Carvyn stretched his sore right hand out
wincing slightly. Most got the message.

"This morning before breakfast, Mr. Draco Malfoy received
corrective punishment as specified by his Head of House.
Whatever you have heard, what he actually experienced was a
light sentence. If charges had been brought, he would be
facing several years at Azkaban." He glared at them most
intensely. Carvyn would get this message across. "What you
need to remember is not to attack another witch or wizard,
except in very special circumstances."

"Anything else?"

Silence followed.

"Then begin. When you have completed, pour some off in a
vial, label it, and clean up."

He sat back at the desk. Deep breaths. The rest of the
period passed uneventfully. When the period was over, twenty
vials of a pale lilac liquid stood in the rack. Examining
each one, he assigned grades according to Snape's system. It
would take some experience to be consistent.

Someone entered the room. It was Professor Snape himself. He
swooped over to the vials, examining each one with each
name, grunting. "You understand the grading system?"

"Yes. I would appreciate it if you would check at your
desire to make sure I am on track with that."

"How did they do? These samples are somewhat above their
usual standard."

"No problems, few questions. I discussed some of the
motivations behind the choice of procedure and tools to
extract the needed ingredients."

Snape snorted. "Any questions for me?"

"Not at this time." Carvyn caught him in the eye. His hand
hurt, and the irritation put a bit of a blaze into his eyes.

Snape finally conceded. "Carvyn, you may salvageable yet.
The way you handled this morning was as true Slytherin as I
have ever seen. And I think we both know what we are talking
about."

Carvyn regarded Snape coolly. "Thank you, Professor." And
with that, Snape left.

Carvyn made it through his own studies. The whole school
must have heard by now about him and Malfoy. The younger
ones either cheered or were afraid. The older ones avoided
him, and the older Slytherins tended to get very
uncomfortable when he was around. Alienated, at least for a
few days.

Malfoy became completely neutral. No criticism, no sniping.
He had healed fine, and was learning self control. Once
Carvyn had caught him watching him with something like
hunger on his face. Obviously, something hadn't been settled
yet.

And then there was Harry. Friday had come. He had taught
eight classes, gotten through the awkwardness, and found a
routine. Weekends he didn't have worked out yet. Friday
night found him walking up again to the Astronomy tower.
Only to find Malfoy there.

Neither spoke. Then, Carvyn first. "What brings you up
here?"

"Looking to be alone. It takes a while to live down what
happened."

"I agree. I was coming up here for some solitude myself."

"I don't mind you being here as long as we don't have to
talk or fight."

"Deal."

And then Draco Malfoy stood up and kissed Carvyn. Caught by
surprise, Carvyn did not pull away quick enough. Malfoy
broke the kiss, stepped away, triumph in his eyes. He pulled
a small vial from his robes, and quickly drank its contents.
"Goodbye, Marquis."  And turned to go.

Carvyn's mind exploded. Poison. No antidote. Just one
desperate chance. He felt the bitterness start to rise in
his mouth. He quickly spat out what he could, and shouted,
"Damn you, Malfoy! EX SCAMBIO INCENDI INCLUSIVI!!" And
Carvyn became the fire-being.

The poison burned away quickly. Carvyn was so furious, so
desperate. Why wouldn't Malfoy let be? Carvyn realized if he
stayed where he was, there was going to be trouble. He
realized then that he could fly, and so he flew off the
Astronomy tower and down to the field, where he changed back
to being human.

The field happened to be the Quidditch Pitch. When he landed
he left a big burn spot on the grass. "Reparo!" took care of
that. However, the nine pairs of eyes of the practicing
Gryffindor Quidditch Team he could do nothing about. Of
course, Harry was there, and he called out to Carvyn. But
Carvyn just stormed off the field. Harry promised he would
find him later, but he had to finish practice first.

It turns out fate didn't wait that long. Lots of students
were outside, and saw the explosion at the top of the
Astronomy Tower. Professors Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore
had run up to the top, only to find Malfoy walking down with
sunburn along the back side of his body. Snape searched him
and found a vial of poison and a vial of antidote, both
empty. Malfoy wouldn't talk. Something had happened to him
so badly that he was in shock. Dumbledore and Snape took him
to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey put him to bed
with a restorative and a sleep potion.

Madam Pomfrey informed them that Malfoy had evidence that he
had taken both the poison and the antidote, the antidote
just recently as there were traces of both still on his
tongue.

The three of them had a quick conference. Dumbledore
started. "What has happened here that causes a huge fireball
at the top of the Astronomy tower, with one boy, sunburned
and shocked, a bottle of poison and a bottle of antidote?
There is some very key element missing."

McGonagall walked into the room, with Harry Potter, and
answered. "A witness." Her eyes were blazing, and Harry was
guarded.

Snape grumped. "Potter. I should have known. If it isn't you
or Malfoy, it's that damned Marquis ." and his eyes widened.

"Exactly." McGonagall snapped. "I enquired of the portraits
on the stairs to the tower. There were two students up
there. Two climbed up. One walked down. Carvyn de Sernin
went up second and did not come down."

Dumbledore grew frightening intense. "And where is Mr. De
Sernin? We searched rather well and found nothing up there."

McGonagall pointed at Harry. "Talk."

Harry related the surprising tale. "Gryffindor was
practicing Quidditch. During our practice, a large ball of
fire came flying around the castle and landed in our grass.
When it landed, it transformed back into a student. The
student repaired the burned spot and then left the pitch."

Dumbledore looked straight at Harry. "Did you recognize the
student?"

No avoiding the answer. "Yes, it was Carvyn. I called out to
him but he left anyway. Is he in a lot of trouble this
time?"

There was silence. Dumbledore was first to respond. "I don't
know. For the first time in a long while I am at a loss.
Harry, do you know where he is?"

"Possibly. You know how much of a loner he is. He has a
couple special places outside the castle where he vents, or
expresses what he feels with music, and one inside. He never
wants anyone to listen. I only found out about them because
we had dragged him down to the Three Broomsticks for
butterbeer, and it had gotten late and he . showed one to
me."

Snape bore into Harry. "Where?" But Dumbledore cut him off.
"Severus, you have something to add?"

"Yes. That damned Marquis has been developing his own spells
from what he calls spell components. I walked in on him as
he finished working with one. One that he used to change
himself from a being of matter into a being of energy. Fire.
" He paused. "I have never seen anything like it."

"So that is it. That was how he exited the Astronomy tower,
by changing himself into a fireball and flinging himself off
its precipice." McGonagall's hairpin sprung, and a strand or
two strayed giving her a slightly odd look. She was so
furious. They all were furious.

Harry was the first to speak. "Let me find him. Alone."

Dumbledore nodded. "I was hoping you would be willing to
find him. Please bring him here. No need for haste. He is
likely to need a friend. He doesn't realize how many he
has."

Carvyn had walked straight to his alcove in the cliff. He
had sat there and tried to crush himself into the rock. The
poison had not converted, as expected, and he was not at
risk from it. He had hoped that the whole incident would
disappear, that Malfoy would never mention it. He did not
count on the exposure to the Quidditch team, let alone
Harry. He realized then that Harry would be questioned, and
the sent to find him. He was not ready to be found yet. He
had a little while. Carvyn thought of his one last bolthole
in the castle. The Chamber of Secrets. Carvyn could speak
Parseltongue, and therefore also could get it open. By the
time that he could get there, the whole place would be
upside down. Better to wait here until he was ready. Too bad
he didn't have his instrument.

What could he have done? Malfoy had poisoned him!! It wasn't
his damn fault that he was muggle-born, or that the Sorting
Hat had put him in Slytherin!! There was so much pressure,
being Head Boy, teaching, his own work, the NEWTs, finding a
job in the future. He tucked his knees into his chest and
buried his head in them, repeating the same rictus. He
didn't want all of this. All he wanted to do was get smart,
get strong, and have a normal wizarding life. He so loved
the magic.

He looked up and Harry was sitting next to him. "I figured,
once you saw on the Quidditch Pitch, that you would get the
task of finding me."

"Carvyn, what happened?"

"You tell me yours."

"All right. We were practicing Quidditch. A fireball like a
small sun swooped around the castle and landed. Out popped
you. You repaired the burn spot and stormed off the pitch.
Five minutes later Professor McGonagall comes tearing
outside to ask us what we saw. I tell her the same thing,
leaving your name out but she seemed to know it was you
somehow anyway. Practice is cancelled, and I am hauled to
the Hospital Wing where Malfoy is in a bed, sunburned on the
back of his body, with traces of poison and antidote on his
tongue. Snape relates that you had just developed a shape-
changing spell to change yourself into fire."

"They?"

"McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey."

"What about Malfoy?"

"Unconscious. They said he was in shock, but otherwise
unhurt."

Carvyn released is breath. "Well, that is one thing. I was
afraid I had hurt him."

Harry spoke carefully. "Carvyn, they want to know all of
what happened. We do need to go back."

Carvyn grew very distant. Very quietly, agreed, "All right."
He stood up. He helped Harry up, and then folded himself
into Harry's arms. And Harry held him for some period of
time. Harry felt him take a deep breath, and separate. When
he looked into his face, it was the normal Carvyn back. They
walked back to the castle and up to the Hospital Wing.

Snape was there, with Madam Pomfrey. They immediately sent
for McGonagall and Dumbledore. Carvyn asked, "How is he?"
indicating Malfoy.

Both professors snorted. "He'll be fine. He has much to
answer for, it seems."

The others arrived. Dumbledore spoke first. "Thank you
Carvyn, Harry. Carvyn, please tell us what has taken place
beginning with your ascent into the Astronomy tower."

"I was looking for a quiet place to just be, an isolated
place. The Astronomy Tower has worked well in the past,
particularly at night. When I got to the top, I noticed that
Malfoy was there." It all crashed in on him again.

Snape pushed him. "Go on!"

"NO!! I CAN'T!!" Carvyn stepped back automatically.
Dumbledore glared at Snape, and then said, "Take a few
moments to calm down. Poppy, perhaps you have something?"

"No thank you, please." Carvyn stopped shaking. He saw on a
side shelf what he needed. He walked over and brought the
Pensieve to them and placed it on the table. "This is the
only way the truth can be known." Carvyn brought out his
want, touched it to his temple and pulled a long, silvery
thread of mist from his head, which wrapped around the tip
of his wand. He placed it in the Pensieve, where it swirled
around. He stepped back. "Harry, you seem to be involved in
this, so I would rather you saw it the way it was."

Madam Pomfrey handed him a glass with an amber liquid in it,
while the others witnessed the events. He sniffed it.
"Scotch?"

"Heaven Hills. I know you. You don't need a potion, you need
a drink." Carvyn tossed it back without a second thought.
Poppy's eyes widened. "Guess I was right."

"They are likely to come out of this pretty charged." He
moved to stand between Malfoy and the Pensieve.

Madam Pomfrey followed as well. "You are something else.
Ready to defend him. Can you tell me the basics? Why is
there poison and antidote in him?"

Somehow, Carvyn could tell her. "We have been under a cease-
fire. But he took the poison. With it still in his mouth, he
caught me unawares and kissed me. Then he drank the
antidote, said goodbye, and started to go. No antidote, no
escape, no help. It would have killed me but for the fact
that I had developed the fire-exchange spell."

Madam Pomfrey was aghast with horror. "Attemped murder."

Harry was the first to emerge. "BASTARD!" He started pacing
and seething.

The rest emerged, pale and shaken. Snape had torn his robes
he was so furious. Dumbledore was profoundly disturbed. He
spoke first. "You are lucky to be alive."

With a roar, Harry flung himself towards Malfoy. Carvyn
caught him, moved him aside and held him tightly. Harry
quickly clung to him. Carvyn whispered, "Later, we'll talk.
We have much to talk about."

Carvyn pulled together what he could for a semblance of
composure. Still holding Harry, he sought Dumbledore's eyes.
"Headmaster, may we use one of the guest rooms in the castle
tonight? Both of us I think will be unable to make it to our
House dormitories."

"Of course. I will send Dobby with an overnight kit for each
of you. I trust that if you can not sleep, you will take the
potions Madam Pomfrey is giving you." Dumbledore turned to
Poppy. "I will be back for him later," indicating Malfoy.

Harry and Carvyn walked slowly together to the guest room,
which was three flights down, three flights up and across to
get to. However, Carvyn steered Harry towards another
alcove. "Can you jump up to this bar?"

They did, and another hidden passage placed them right near
the guest rooms. Neither was willing to let the other go, so
they took one, closed and locked the door. "Oh Harry, alone
at last." Well, almost.

A double pop took place. Dobby appeared with a night kit for
Harry. However, carrying a night kit for Carvyn also was
Winky. Winky had gotten over the worst of her separation,
but was still miserable. Dobby looked at Carvyn and Harry,
very seriously, and said, "You are good friends together.
Dobby knows. Dobby knows what happened to old Master. Dobby
is ashamed." Harry rolled is eyes.

Carvyn blazed. "Dobby had nothing to do with what happened
today. Dobby has been freed from the evil Masters. That is
what Dobby wants, and Dobby does not need to feel ashamed or
apologize for the evil ones. Dobby, when he could choose,
has always acted honorably." And he bowed to Dobby.

Dobby turned all different colors. Harry reaffirmed, "It's
true. You see, it's not just me."

Carvyn sat down cross-legged on the floor. God, he looked
sexy, thought Harry. Then something, a slight tingle
perhaps, gave him a hint that something was about to happen.

"Winky, can you tell me why you are so sad?"

Winky sighed. "Winky was used by Master and wrongly blamed
by Master. Winky has failed."

"Did Winky try as hard as she could?"

Winky bristled. "Of course. Winky did all she could."

"Then if Winky did all she could, and it wasn't enough, how
is that Winky's fault?"

Silence, then Carvyn continued, taking Winky into his arms.
"Winky, sometimes things are too much for one person, be it
house-elf, wizard, muggle, or whatever. When that happens,
you do the best you can and what you can't do is out of your
control. People may blame you for that, but they are wrong."
He looked at her wryly. "I've had to deflect a lot of
blame." His features slowly melted into loneliness, and his
eyes were as if watching a continent away. "And there is
still so much to do."

Winky stared at Carvyn. "Winky hears you, feels your need!"
Her eyes shot open and a smile crackled across her face.
"YOU NEED WINKY!!! YOU NEED WINKY!!" She bounced out of his
lap and to his surprise, she ran around the guest room.
"Master, Winky is YOURS!!"

Dobby beamed. Harry looked completely blindsided. Dobby
nudged him. "Winky is cured now. What Winky wants is someone
who needs her. Boyfriend needs her and Winky will be happy."
Harry and Carvyn looked at each other. Boyfriend? Suddenly
the smiles were all around.

"Winky, do you know my proper name?" Winky nodded her head.
"Parlez-vous francais?" Winky blinked, and then responded,
"Oui, Winky adore de parler francais! Il a ete les premiers
mots quelle Winky a parle!"

Carvyn laughed. "We are well suited. Winky, I have a small
estate house in Brittany. It could use a lot of attention.
Would you join me there when we are ready?"

Winky screamed with joy. "Winky loves France!" And she and
Dobby popped out.

Harry was jealous. "Great. You get Winky, I have Kreacher."

"We'll win over Kreacher." He went right over to Harry, took
him in his arms. "Now we are alone. And secure." And Harry
kissed Carvyn. Deeply. Thoroughly. Carvyn's robe had slid
right off, barely being attached in the first place. Harry
had had on muggle clothes; the sweatshirt came off. By the
candlelight they each drank each other in.

Harry was pale and sculpted from pure alabaster. He was the
more built of the two, with strong arms, a defined chest and
solid frame. Carvyn, however, was lean and whip-like. Wiry.
His skin was darker, very taught and smooth, but not as
bulky. Both had scarring from their experiences. Both of
them reacted intensely sensually when their chests touched
and caressed the other, the hardness gently rubbing as well.
They held each other for a long time, just like that,
absorbing the other's presence.

After what seemed like eternity, the undeniable reality
check hit. "Carvyn, I . uh . can we talk?"

Carvyn stopped, pulled away a little bit. "Sure Harry." They
separated, and Carvyn went and lay down on the huge bed on
his stomach across it, facing Harry. Harry couldn't take his
eyes of the curve of Carvyn's back, the rise for the butt
and then the long tapered legs. He looked like a pin-up
model, except for the scars.

Harry lay down next to him, same position. He wasn't quite
sure how to start.

Carvyn did. "C'mon Harry. I love you, we are great friends,
just say it." He hadn't known entirely until just then that
he truly loved Harry.

All right. "Carvyn, how much sex have you had with guys?"

Carvyn considered. "A little. Outside Hogwarts. Mostly
experimentation. Most of it didn't turn out too well." He
looked at Harry directly. "I enjoy both top and bottom,
although my only topping experience did not go well. I've
read how to do better now." He nuzzled closer to Harry,
shoulder to shoulder. "You?"

"Most of it was wanking others off. I've had . uh . a couple
of times last year topping Dean."

"I would have thought it was Ron."

"Ron is as straight as a ruler. Not even worth the attempt."
Harry thought it over. "I am still not sure about all this.
Carvyn, sometimes I like a plan, you know, kind of an idea
what to expect.."

Caryvn nodded. "I have part of a plan in mind. It is kind of
basic." He moved closer to Harry. "It would let me try some
things I've been really wanting to do for you." He placed a
hand on the side of Harry's face, gently caressing. "No
pain, just pleasure. First, I undress you. Second, I explore
every . square . millimeter . of your heavenly self. Third,
I make the most of what you like best. Last, you will feel
exquisite when I am done.

Harry couldn't breathe. "Oh yes, I think that's a wonderful
plan."

"You don't even have to move." Carvyn slipped off the rest
of Harry's clothes. "Just let me know what you like." And
with that, he placed his fingers on Harry's shoulders and
proceeded to gently rake them down his back. Harry shuddered
uncontrollably. There was something to be said for giving up
control.

Carvyn applied his fingers, his hands, his lips and tongue
to nearly every part of Harry that was accessible. Harry was
in a state of near continuous moaning and groaning.  Harry
only tensed when Carvyn deftly stimulated the truly
sensitive areas of his arse.  But Carvyn moved on.

Finally satisfied with the backside of Harry, Carvyn rolled
him over. Harry's nearly eight inches sprang out right away.
Carvyn pretended not to notice, but it had set is mouth
watering. He had plans for that particular organ. Carvyn
worked his way all over, causing great pleasure at Harry's
nipples. Harry was all but shaking at the level of
excitement Carvyn was creating. And then the inevitable
began. Carvyn's hot mouth and tongue had worked their way to
Harry's defined abs, and then slowly down toward Harry's
pubes. With one smooth movement, Carvyn took Harry in his
mouth and began a most delicious action of tongue, mouth,
slowly sliding up and down. Harry was in near heaven. He
could feel himself gathering for the orgasm coming.

Carvyn felt that as well. He stopped, muttered a rather
unusual spell, and climbed over Harry. Harry's eyes flew
wide open as Carvyn straddled him, guiding him, and oh so
slowly bearing down on him until Carvyn's entrance
reluctantly accepted and then welcomed Harry. Carvyn slid
down the full length until Harry was completely buried in
him. He opened his eyes to see Harry totally crazed.
Perfect.

It wouldn't last long. Carvyn began sliding up and down
slowly, and then more quickly. Harry met his movements with
thrusts with his hips, grabbing Carvyn at the waist, and
with one final plunge from Harry and Carvyn settling all the
way down on him, Harry surrendered to an earth-shattering
orgasm. Carvyn could feel it happening deep within him, and
squeezed and stroked from within.

Harry was totally sated. That was what Carvyn had always
wanted to do. Carvyn didn't care about himself so much, as
long as Harry was fulfilled. Being a top takes a certain
amount of self-interest. Carvyn didn't really have it, and
that was why his only attempt at a top was unsuccessful.

"That was incredible." Harry whispered.

"Yeah. I have always wanted to do that for you."

Harry looked at him. "I will want my turn, you know. But I
don't think I can do it tonight."

"No problem."  And then they slept.

And they dreamed; Harry dreamed of gentle, amorphous things.
Carvyn dreamed about their first kiss, which was under quite
unusual circumstances. It had kept Harry in school, and
given Carvyn the one real talent that completed him and made
him actually feel like a Slytherin.

They were both fifth-years. Dumbledore had summoned them to
his office. Carvyn had been getting Harry out of trouble
several times before over the years, usually when Harry was
in a really bad state (hexed, beaten up, etc) by being
caught alone. It had become obvious that Harry was being
antagonistic (inevitable) but he had no subtlety. If this
continued, Harry would have to leave Hogwarts for his own
safety (so said Umbridge, who was there at the time).
Dumbledore had also been aware of Carvyn's unpopular
situation within Slytherin house and had decided that an
exchange might be in order. A magical one. A somewhat Dark
one, but safe under controlled circumstances. There was a
variant of the polyjuice potion that would permanently allow
a person to learn or acquire a talent from another person,
without damage to the contributor. Dumbledore had figured
that Carvyn might balk unless an exchange was made. And so
he called them to his office after dinner, one night in
November in their fifth year.

The two boys made it up to his office. Harry looked like
Harry, in a perpetual state of frustrated frenzy. Carvyn had
improved considerably. He now was a nice-looking young man,
though still somewhat short and very much invisible. His
grace though was all there; all the years of performing the
"French Drop" on himself had settled that.

"Harry, Professor Umbridge has yet again indicated that you
may not be a good candidate for schooling here at Hogwarts.
I disagree, but your discipline record is not making it easy
on anyone."

Harry looked down. "Professor, she is so awful, so STUPID!
She only lets us read from the book in Defense Against the
Dark Arts, she has half the brooms locked away in her
closets, how can she still be here?!!"

Dumbledore knew he was doing the right thing. "Times are
different now, Harry. Even this room is said to be under
surveillance." He winked. "But I must take action, and it
isn't going to be very easy." He turned to Carvyn. "Carvyn,
why are you here?"

"Because you asked me to be."

"Yes, but I asked you here because of your ability to
disappear into the background. Harry has a problem in that
he has been thrust into the foreground of things, and
doesn't know how to get out of it. You are going to help him
do so, I hope."

Harry turned red. Before he could say anything, though,
Dumbledore spoke. "Harry, don't debate me! No one can blame
you for not having a skill that you never had the
opportunity to develop, " referring to the Dursleys.

Carvyn and Harry looked at each other. Carvyn agreed first.
"All right, though I am not sure how."

Dumbledore turned to his desk and retrieved two small vials.
"This is Talent Sharing Potion. TSP. No relation to Tri-
Sodium Phosphate. There are three components: the drinker,
the sharer, and the talent. The potion must be configured
with the talent by the sharer before the drinker can drink
it. Simply tap your vial and state the desired talent."
Dumbledore gave them each a vial of clear liquid. "There is
one more requirement. Intimate physical contact is required.
I would very strongly recommend a kiss as the most
appropriate venue."

"I have to kiss him?" That was Harry.

"Yes. There are other forms of intimate contact, but that
one is in your best interest."

Carvyn this time. "Why should I do this?"

Dumbledore sighed. "To help out a friend. The talent Harry
needs to learn - with no loss to yourself - is subtlety."
Harry blushed, but Dumbledore continued. "Without it, Harry
will not be able to remain at Hogwarts much longer." He
turned to Carvyn. "You should help him out of friendship,
and also that this works both ways. Harry needs to share a
talent he has that you find desirable."

"Parseltongue."

Dumbledore stared. "An odd choice."

"Not for a Slytherin."

Deciding not to let the thoughts get to them, because he
knew that this would be QUITE the kiss, Dumbledore smiled
and said, "Are we agreed?" Two nods. "Lets go then."

Harry tapped his vial with his wand, and said, "Full talent
of Parseltongue." The vial turned deep green and mottled.

Carvyn tapped his vial with his wand, and said, "Full talent
of subtlety, patience, craftiness, perception." His vial
turned a crystalline silver.

"Well done, and from the heart for both of you. Now drink
and kiss."

They exchanged and drank. Carvyn knew Harry was nervous.
"Harry, close your eyes and I'll do it." Harry nodded,
closed his eyes. Carvyn lowered his lips to just brush
Harry's, but the moment he did the fire of lust and sex
flung through him and into Harry. Realizing slightly that
the same thing was happening to Harry, he let himself seep
into Harry and Harry into him. The exchange of talent slowly
took place, but both boys were oblivious to the exchange as
they lost themselves in each other.

Dumbledore watched with interest. Oh yes, with that kind of
a reaction to the potion he knew two things. They would be
in love someday with each other. And while Harry would be
the one to kill Voldemort forever, Carvyn had the tools to
do it. Dumbledore shook his head. He really must learn more
about the spell components that Carvyn keeps getting caught
using.

The very sensual kiss stopped after exactly seven minutes. A
couple quick questions confirmed that the exchange had taken
place. And Carvyn and Harry kept looking at each other.

Carvyn woke to realize that Harry was kissing him gently.
"Its time to wake up." Carvyn resisted. Harry persisted.
"Come on, Carvyn. It is a Saturday."

Reality slammed back to him. They were in the guest room,
because of the Malfoy actions. And naked Harry was kissing
him gently. He wrapped his arms around Harry and held him.
"Harry, I don't know what we are going to face today. For
some reason, I dreamed about our first kiss, you know, with
the potion. And I realized that Dumbledore saw something
that he isn't telling us."

Harry snorted. "I guarantee it. But I do know what we are
going to face: we aren't in our beds and our mates are going
to wonder why."

Carvyn sighed. "No problem here; I'm as often out of my bed
as I am in it at night." He looked at Harry, who looked
horrified. "No, not like that, jeez! I used to sleep on a
sofa in a corner of an alcove during the hard times."

They laughed at that one. Laughter turned to sensual
stroking, which of course aroused two horny young men. Both
just enjoying their company, the slowly stroked each other
into orgasm. Harry was the first to comment.

"You look so hot when you cum."

"So do you . It's as if a raging river comes out of your
face and down to release you."

They cleaned up, showered, found that the house elves had
brought them clean clothes. Winky apparently had assessed
his color preferences and chosen for Carvyn his usual dark
dark brown. Dobby had brought Harry an orange sweatshirt and
blue jeans. They dressed and worked their way down to
breakfast. Before leaving the guest room, Carvyn tidied it
up, and then looked at Harry.

"You know, I do love you. Harry. You are the best - friend -
I have ever had. I will always be there for you."

Harry was deeply touched. "Carvyn, you are more than my best
friend. Somehow, we are going to be involved together. We
are going to be together in different ways for a long time,
I think. And I love you too." And with that understanding,
they smiled, and exited the room.

Harry went to sit with the Gryffindors. Carvyn went to the
long table and sat down. Separated, they resumed aspects of
their separate lives. The Gryffindors all pushed Harry about
the Malfoy thing and what happened. The faculty was silent.

Then the rain started. It rained and rained and rained.
Everyone stayed indoors, but into the third week of cold
November rain, moods ran low and tempers began to flare.
Carvyn and Harry had seen little of each other, exchanging
smiles in the halls. Carvyn kept teaching the second-years,
who were doing very well and adored their teacher.

That all changed in the third week of rain. Carvyn had never
learned what happened to Malfoy, only that he had gone on to
St. Mungo's. But, on that Tuesday, Carvyn saw Malfoy return.
This Malfoy was somewhat different, and he approached Carvyn
in the crowd.

"Look, Dumbledore wants to see you, probably to explain
about me being back. It was Imperio. I held to my promise,
but the Dark Lord used Imperio on me. I'm really sorry that
it happened, but I couldn't stop it. They have proof."

Carvyn felt him sincere. "All right, can we still keep the
cease-fire?"

"Yes, although I have not broken my word."

"Fine. I understand, Draco." And Carvyn headed up to
Dumbledore's office. Harry was waiting there, of course.
This was getting predictable.

"Headmaster, you called?"

Dumbledore twinked. "Yes. I am glad you have come. Professor
Snape has told me that although you are doing very well with
his second-years, he will resume their instruction after the
Christmas holiday." Carvyn sighed. He had enjoyed the
teaching. "Yes, but that leads us to other things.  The
pleasant ones first."

He looked up as Dumbledore continued, "I understand you have
a talent in music. I would like to exercise that. There is a
whole branch of magic that employs sound cues to finely
formulate spellwork. The topic is officially called
Sonomancy. I would like to you study it, prepare a
curriculum for a term-long class elective in the topic. We
have not taught it here in many years because of the
faculty's lack of musical talent. Perhaps you might consider
doing so in the future."

"Headmaster, I would be honored."

"Done then. And now for the more difficult part." Dumbledore
gestured for them to sit, and then, "Carvyn, do you know of
the prophesy about Harry?" When he said, no, Dumbledore
explained it to him.

"The problem," Dumbledore stated, "is that in the wording it
is obscure. I refer to `the one who will have the power to
vanquish.' That implies that he doesn't have it now."

"So Harry won't be able to kill Voldemort?" Carvyn asked.

"Not without `the power.' I never knew what the power was
until last night, when the Ministry returned Draco Malfoy to
me, innocent of his crime. They had found proof positive
that he was under the Imperius Curse by Voldemort himself,
and had acted during the attempted murder under that curse."

There was silence. Then Harry asked the question, "Why does
Voldemort want to kill Carvyn?"

Short silence. Then, from Carvyn: "The spell components."

Dumbledore cried, "Exactly! The spell components are
connected via musical intonation and pitch; you have told me
yourself you need to have exquisite vocal control to execute
them. We have not taught that topic in decades, and
certainly Voldemort would never have studied it." He started
pacing. "And that makes it the power. Carvyn, I need you to
teach Harry how to use spell components. Will you do it?"

Carvyn was taken aback. "Well, I guess so. I have never
thought about how to teach it, but I suppose it could be
done." He turned to Harry. "Harry, can you sing a tune?"

Harry grinned and warbled, "My lover lies over the ocean; My
lover lies over the -"

"We're going to have to work on that. I'm not sure we can do
this."   Carvyn turned to Dumbledore. "He's got to have
really accurate vocal control, and it takes a certain way of
thinking. But we'll try."

Carvyn and Harry looked at each other. "Looks like we are
going to fight evil together." And with a hug, perhaps too
long as Dumbledore coughed politely, they started out of the
office.

They agreed to start on Sunday. Carvyn headed to the library
to research Sonomancy.

On his way through Gryffindor, Harry remembered the
Christmas holidays at the Weasleys. On a sudden inspiration,
he grabbed Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. Hermione came along
as well.

"Hey, you know how you all like sing and stuff at Christmas?
Just how much do you know musically?"

Fred and George grinned and said, "Drums! We've even got
some here with us."

Ron said, "They also sing bawdy stuff. We all can more or
less carry a tune. Mum insisted."

"Good!" Harry said. "Here is what we will do." He got them
to get their instruments and pick something they knew well
that was very well known. In fact, they picked two
songs/dances. If it worked out right, it would pick up
everyone's spirits in the rain. He had no idea what was
going to actually happen. But he wanted to create a trap for
Carvyn to share his music.

They were going over things in the Great Hall when Carvyn
heard music. Of course, he came down to investigate. Fred
and George were on their drums, beating a complicated beat
with their hands, Hermione and Ginny actually singing quite
well in Celtic the words of an old folk dance. It caught
Carvyn with such a feel of rightness again that he came in
and sang along as well. As they finished, a rousing cheer
from a few students sailed in to the hall, and the singers
laughed.  They then did another one, which grabbed a bit
more attention. Then Harry looked at Carvyn, glee in his
eyes.

"Ok Carvyn, rumors of your music have been all over the
school this year. Play something."

Carvyn saw the observers disperse a bit, and then decided.
"Well, if I am studying Sonomancy, I suppose I should be
able to squeak out a tune." His face lit up and he turned to
the twins. "Do you know the Ashoken Farewell and
Contradiction?" They shook their head. "Well, it's easy.
Part one is solo me; the Contradiction is in a complicated
12/4 beat that cycles a couple of times. I'll give you eight
beats to show off, twelve beats to synchronize, and then
keep it going. We'll end on four beats on my nod. Can do?"

The twins nodded, beaming. Carvyn turned back to Harry.
"Just remember, you asked for this." He pulled out his
recorder, and transfigured it into a beautiful old viola.

He began the simple, plaintive tune. It fit so well with the
rain. He very quickly lost himself in the music, feeding it
his loneliness, his isolation, his love for Harry. Vibrato
and drama captured from the lilting Irish tune, all the way
up into the fifth position notes, and then back down into
the deep full strings of the viola. He did not notice the
buildup of the magic, the sizzling depth, the charge in the
air of magic poised for use. It had always been that way for
him with the music; he didn't know it could be any other
way.

With the haunting notes, the hall slowly filled with other
students drawn to the music. The rain poured down outside,
and the viola filled the hall with its tune. At the close of
the final cadence, you could have heard a pin drop as every
single student and faculty member had been drawn to that
hall and stood listening in dead silence. Carvyn, facing the
corner, never saw them.

He gave the nod to Fred and George to start the
Contradiction. They outdid themselves on the drums, echoing
back and forth, exchanging rhythms, until they settled into
the 12/4 rhythms that Carvyn needed. He began counting. The
Contradiction was just that: a contradiction of the first
part.

The magic tensed. Everyone could feel it. Carvyn set his bow
again. "Nine, ten, eleven, twelve!" And the bow began to
move in a blur. The opening notes spanned two octaves,
bouncing back between positions all over the fingerboard.
The higher the notes went, the more fierce joy sailed out of
the viola and its player, and hearts lifted throughout the
hall. The magic grew and grew and grew, as the complexity of
the music expanded. Finally, no one knew who started it, but
the entire hall began clapping in time with the rhythm.
Professor McGonagall, who recognized the tune from her
ancient youth, hitched up her skirts and began to dance the
fast and furious formal dance of the Contradiction. Euphoria
swept the room as Carvyn executed the rarely-performed
sixteenth-note triplets in the unheard of sixth position on
the viola, and smoke began to issue from his bow. The
clapping slowly stopped as they realized that Carvyn was now
standing in a glowing dome of pure magic, bow sizzling and
finally, gave the nod that resulted in a triple-stop in
fifth position and the triumphant end. Fred and George both
yelled, "Ho!" and the entire hall erupted in screaming
cheering and applause. Carvyn whirled around to see the
crowd, and for just a moment the magic faltered. Then he
held up the viola and grinned, and the magic swept up
through the roof and out of the hall.

Carvyn sat down with Fred and George. "You guys were great!"

"Blimey, you should have seen yourself!" They described the
great dome of sizzling power and how it had developed,
pulsed and then flew upwards outside the castle. Carvyn was
dumbfounded; he head never seen such a thing. He could feel
the magic when he played sometimes, but never that tangibly.

No one noticed that in the instant the magic had been
released, the rain had stopped, the clouds rolled back and
the sun began to shine. No one, that is except Dumbledore.

Days later, Harry and Carvyn had retired to an empty
classroom to go over the spell components. It was not going
well. Harry could not carry a tune, had not spent the many
years perfecting his vocal control (as Carvyn had), and was
unable to execute the spell components.

"Harry, you just have to think procedurally. This does that,
this does that part, and so on. Take the Lumos spell - it
really is Lumina Non Incendios, but shortened to Lumos."

"Lumina Non Incendios!" Harry warbled. His wand seemed like
it was snickering at him. "Carvyn, I can't even seem to feel
my way through it. I'm not getting anything."

They sat back against the wall. Softly, they both said, "I'm
sorry." They both knew the stakes. Discouraged, they got up
and started down towards the Great Hall.

"Oh Harry, tsk tsk, the Inner Eye knew you would bump into
me." It was Professor Trelawney. As odd as ever, she gave
Carvyn the once-over. "My, my, two of my better objects.
Pathetic vision, really, but good objects. Now, the
Headmaster has indicated that he wants to see you, Carvyn.
Harry, come have tea with me and perhaps the Inner Eye will
unshroud the future for us." She grabbed Harry and teetered
off with him in tow.

Carvyn proceeded to the Headmaster's office. The hairs began
pricking at the back of his neck. This was dangerous.
Instinctively, he pulled out his wand. He made his way
slowly up the stairs and through the entrance into the
office. Professor Snape was there as well.

Dumbledore greeted him. "Carvyn, so good to see you. How is
Harry's training coming?"

"Poorly. He is unable to grasp the thought process to
assemble the components. But we will keep trying."

Snape smirked. That never boded well. Dumbledore looked a
bit uncomfortable. "Carvyn, you do understand the stakes in
this?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't a backup plan be in order?"

Carvyn considered this. "I suppose. What nature of plan?"

"Well," Dumbledore hesitated. "Recall the Talent Sharing
Potion?" Carvyn nodded reluctantly. "One backup plan would
be to transfer that particular talent to a qualified
individual." Dumbledore coughed, looking increasingly
uncomfortable. "Professor Snape has volunteered to be a test
subject."

Snape!! Carvyn shuddered. "I don't think it would work. I've
read about TSP afterwards, and it is only good on sharing
distinct talents. Harry has had six years of non-component
spells from Hogwarts; his thought process is fixed that way.
Professor Snape would have the same limitation."

Snape spoke up, hungrily. "You will try it anyway."

Carvyn's eyes snapped wide. "And what are you offering me in
return?"

"This time it will be a one-way exchange."

"No." Carvyn raised his want slightly. "I've read about the
TSP potion. An unbalanced transfer turns the donor into a .
well, a rutting ape. You lose all control, you attack the
recipient and . force a most intimate contact." He looked at
Snape, who had a feral grin on his face.

Dumbledore spoke up. "Carvyn, we don't see any other way.
Everyone has to make sacrifices."

"YOU"RE ON HIS SIDE!!?" Fury burst through Carvyn. To trick
him into that uncontrolled wild sex with SNAPE!!

Dumbledore sighed, and applied the wizarding wards. "Take
him; I'll get the potion."

Snape began to approach Carvyn. Carvyn became so terribly
angry that he put his shield up. "Bastard! You would force
me to do this?"

Snape leered again. "To help the wizarding world, yes! To
have your power, yes! And to . feel . you out of control, oh
yes!!"

Carvyn was revolted. "NEVER!" He turned to Dumbledore. "How
could you allow this? ACCIO TSP!" And the bottle of TSP went
into his hand. He quickly pocketed it.

Slowly they cornered him. Finally, Dumbledore said, "I'm
sorry, Carvin. STUPEFY!"

But Carvyn had seen it coming. His shield absorbed it, but
weakened, and then regained strength. Carvyn had begun
chanting softly the word `no' in a ritualistic rhythm that
began and built up the magic. It pulsed in rhythm to his
words, growing more and more intense. Dumbledore began to
think that this was more wrong than ever, but continued
anyway. The magic built until finally he felt the weak point
in the room. It was a Portkey and it had to be invoked in
Parseltongue. Carvyn bolted for it, not caring where it lead
to. Dumbledore must have felt it too, but he lunged too
late. Carvyn grabbed the serpentine statuette and hissed,
"GO!" and then he was gone.

They stood there dumbfounded. "That must have been Salazar
Slytherin's emergency exit." Dumbledore mumbled. They began
to realize just what they had done, and just how powerful
Carvyn was, and what kind of tragedy they had just executed.

Dumbledore and Snape released the wards. "A pity. Now we
have violated his trust." He sighed, sat back and put his
hands in his hair. "Severus, this was a bad idea. Old men as
we, the gamble was too high." He got up and made his way
back to his desk. "Now I fear that we have lost all, because
he will not be able to get anyone else to teach Harry in
time."

A tentative knock on the door admitted Harry and a somewhat
dazed Sybill Trelawney. Harry spoke. "Professors, you have
got to hear this."

"THE LION CAN KILL THE DARK LORD . BUT THE SERPENT MUST
DEFEAT THE DARK LORD FIRST. ONLY TOGETHER CAN THEY END THE
DARK LORD'S REIGN."

Everyone stared at Professor Trelawney. And then as if a
light had been turned off, she blinked her eyes and said,
"Oh, hello? <hic> How did I get here? Must have been <hic>
tying on one too many." She sat down and looked around
dazedly.

"Of course! It is all so much clearer to me now!" Dumbledore
exclaimed. "We already know that the Lion is you, Harry,
representing the Lion as Gryffindor. With the new attacks on
Carvyn, it would seem that he is to be the Serpent. Harry,
you have the power to kill Voldemort; however, Carvyn has
the power to defeat him, but apparently not kill him. We
don't need to transfer magic into Harry; we have to ensure
that Carvyn goes with him at the final meeting."

The two professors looked around awkwardly. "Harry, I
believe Professor Snape and I have made a serious error."
And he explained what went on.

Harry was aghast. "What the FUCK were you trying to do that
for?" He looked squarely at Dumbledore. "You know and have
far more ways to force someone into intimacy that extreme
than drugging them and then raping them!!" Both professors
winced. "Yes, top or bottom, if it is against his will -
which it sounds like it was obviously - then it is rape." He
paused for a moment. "What is the adult sentence for the
crime of attempted rape in the Wizarding world?"

A very tense silence. "Four years at Azkaban."

"Well, you know he won't press charges. I suppose you want
me to go find him again."

They nodded. "And please offer him our deepest apologies,
which we will reiterate in person." Snape looked a little
green at that.

"How did he get out?"

They showed him the Portkey. Harry took a deep breath,
grabbed the statuette and hissed at it in Parseltongue,
"Go". And he was removed from the tower to the front gates
of the castle. Carvyn was no where to be seen, though Harry
had a good idea where he went. The Chamber of Secrets. After
all, Carvyn himself had told him it was his one ultimate
hiding spot since you had to be able to speak Parseltongue
to get in.

Harry made his way to what was now known as Moaning Myrtle's
bathroom.

"Hello, Harry. It has been quite a long time since you came
to see me.."

Harry winced. "Myrtle, there is so little time now. I could
use your help, though."

Myrtle oozed up next to Harry. "I might trade. I could tell
you oh so many things ." But Harry fortunately saw that the
entrance to the Chamber of Secrets slightly open.

"Shame on you, Myrtle! Gossip from you, where people
appreciate a bit of privacy! I expected better from you."
Myrtle made gasp, a weep and shrieked and swept through the
room. And Harry descended once again into the Chamber of
Secrets.

It was still dark. There were little snakes he could hear
around. But not the giant basilisk. Someone had cleansed the
place a bit. It would never be attractive, but at least it
wasn't the grimy lair of a monster. Harry walked carefully
along the causeway towards the throne. He felt the rise of
magic around him. Yes, Carvyn was here.

"Carvyn, its me, Harry. I'm alone." He decided to gloss over
the crime first. "There has been another prophesy and it
involves us."

"Why should I care?" Soft, whispered rasp in Parseltongue.

Harry paused. "I don't know. Your sense of justice, perhaps,
of fair play. Snape and Dumbledore were monstrous to try
what they did." He went on, "But this second prophesy which
we all heard answers the question of your role in getting
rid of Voldemort."

Carvyn appeared at Harry's side. "Do you know what they
tried to do? They wanted the spell components. They have no
idea how they work. And they would have turned me into a
rutting orangutan in order to transfer something they didn't
understand into Snape. SNAPE of all people." Carvyn
shuddered. It had been the way Snape had reacted when Carvyn
had realized what would happen. "It was as if Snape was
looking forward to me losing control and shagging the bloody
hell out of him. He probably even realized that the transfer
wouldn't work."

Carvyn looked at Harry. "I can't trust them anymore. There's
only a few people left that I can trust anymore. You are the
one I can most." He started shuddering uncontrollably. Harry
grabbed him into a hug.

Carvyn fought for just a moment, and then surrendered. Harry
was right and they needed to be close. This was not a
sensual hug; this was a survival hug.

After a while, they separated. Carvyn, after all was
resilient. This had been the worst thing to ever happen to
him, but after a while he began to see how it happened.
Dumbledore was old, and getting desperate. Whose plan it
was, it didn't matter because Snape would have enjoyed the
whole thing and Dumbledore was too desperate to think of
anything else. Carvyn began to get an appreciation for his
own power. He was, in essence, more powerful than Snape and
Dumbledore combined. That both awed and frightened him a
bit.

Harry noticed. "What is it?"

"I survived the full power of both Snape and Dumbledore
combined. They threw everything that they had at me and I
still shielded and escaped. I'm scared, Harry."

"You also kept your head. Dumbledore said that he felt the
moment when you found the Portkey. You are going to need all
that."

"Why?"

Harry took a breath. "The second prophesy." Harry recounted
the prophesy and Trelawney. "I am the Lion, who will kill
Voldemort.  But the Serpent is you, and you will apparently
defeat him to the point that he can be killed." And then
Harry told Carvyn about the Horcruxes.

"Carvyn, sounds like you and I are going to be tracking
those down together."

Carvyn chilled. "Why should I?" He had his most distant face
on. "Why should you? What does the world owe us that we
should go down that crazy road?"

Harry was quiet. He needed a different tack than Dumbledore.
"Perhaps because no one else will, and for the good of all
it has to be done. I have a personal stake in killing
Voldemort, but also consider this: Who else would you trust
such an important job to?"

"FUCK!!" Carvyn cracked. His hand exploded in green fire
that he sent racing down the long hallway only to explode in
a myriad of green crystals, sending light everywhere and the
snakes hiding. He shut down the fire and turned on Harry,
his golden eyes on fire and the air crackling about him.
"I'll do it for one reason and one reason only." He enclosed
Harry in his arms, forcing them down to their knees, and
stared him straight in his green eyes. "Because I love YOU
and I am going to see your sorry little arse through this
living hell nightmare, and FUCK TO HELL Hogwarts, the
Ministry, and the rest of those incompetent gits." And
meeting no resistance, Carvyn caught and demandingly kissed
Harry, their tongues comforting each other and dissipating
the urgency.

When they finally broke free, Harry giggled. Carvyn couldn't
believe it. "Jeez Harry, come on! What could be so funny
now?"

"You, actually. Someday you are going to lose it and become
the ultimate rutting orangutan top that you are afraid of.
And do you know what will happen?"

"What?"

"Someone will be the happiest bottom on the planet."

"Maybe. Maybe the sorest too."

"If so it would be worth it."

Carvyn was still for a few minutes. He and Harry were, as it
was, taking a break from the turmoil that both was behind
and in front of them. Carvyn was probably thinking about how
to defeat Voldemort. Harry made a decision.

"I think I know how you can defeat Voldemort. It's all in
the words, right? Voldemort wants to be immortal, and is
doing it through his Horcruxes. You and I are going to
destroy all his Horcruxes, and by then I will destroy his
person. The defeat is the defeat of his plans and
immortality; whereas his death is mine."

Carvyn considered this. "Harry, I can work with that and
with you. However, we leave Snape and Dumbledore out of it."

Harry relied on Dumbledore much more than Carvyn did. Carvyn
had been abused as a tool by the headmaster. Harry had been
too, but the outcomes had been more statisfying. Dumbledore
was teaching Harry about Voldemort, so Harry couldn't easily
walk away from that. He had to know more from Dumbledore.

"We leave Snape out completely. I have to finish my meetings
with Dumbledore, to learn as much about how to find these
Horcruxes as possible. But we won't tell Dumbledore of your
involvement."

Carvyn didn't like it, but the headmaster was likely to find
out no matter what happened. They exited the Chamber of
Secrets and closed it up. Myrtle was no where to be seen, so
they left.

Carvyn felt Snape coming. That was new - he had never felt
other wizards approaching before. He grabbed Harry, pulled
him into a side alcove, and whispered, "Jump." They jumped
up, caught the bar and quickly were in the floor above with
hallways running perpendicular. When Snape had passed, they
continued down back to the main part of the castle.

"Jeez, you know your way around Hogwarts," Harry remarked.
"But remember, they are supposed to apologize in person to
you for their asinine behavior. You can't avoid them for
ever."

"Harry, I . want you to come visit for a few days at my
house." Carvyn rushed out. "I know you have commitments at
the Burrow. But I think you and I could use some quiet time.
Don't tell anyone you don't trust. Will you come?"

Harry grinned. "I will find a way to get there."
Regretfully, they split up.

Carvyn spent the rest of his days that month avoiding Snape,
teaching the second years as he had done without Professor
Snape involved. The term finished up more or less quiet.

Harry and Carvyn had arranged to stay one extra day at
Hogwarts just to settle things. Carvyn's second years had
done very well in his class, were up to standard and on time
in the curriculum. It was at this point that Snape caught up
with Carvyn. Carvyn immediately slid into his snarkiest,
coolest, most distant demeanor. They stared at each other,
and then Snape spoke first.

"Mr. De Sernin, please accept my profound apologies for my
poor behavior that resulted from our false conclusions."

Carvyn regarded him coolly. "You consider attempted rape to
be `poor behavior'?"

"Under the circumstances, yes. We thought we were doing the
best thing."

Carvyn could see that there was no more to be had here.
"Accepted. But stay away from me unless it can't be
avoided." And Carvyn turned his back on the professor and
walked away. Dumbledore had been much more apologetic.

It was late in the afternoon when Carvyn encountered
Professor McGonagall. She had been very busy and had only
been able to meet with him after her grading. At lunch she
had sat next to him and enquired after his interest in
talking to her, but one doesn't discuss Horcruxes at the
lunch table. So he asked for an hour of her time later in
the day.

Once again, he had felt her approaching. It was almost like
an increase in air pressure as someone magic approached. He
was able to identify her in the hallway.

"Professor, would you even have a short amount of time for a
magically technical discussion?"

Minerva McGonagall looked at Carvyn. He was worried, but
mostly driven/curious. He needed her now, one of the few
times he had sought her out. "Very well, can we meet in my
office now?"

"Absolutely." And he followed her to her office. Quite
different than his, of course.

"Now, how can I help you?"

"Professor, you are aware of the fire-exchange spell I have
developed." She nodded. "It isn't transfiguration, because
it converts matter into energy and back again. It doesn't
just alter the arrangement of matter." He proceeded to
describe the properties of the spell.

McGonagall was amazed. This understanding and manipulation
of magic was well beyond any normal discussion at any level.
There weren't a dozen wizards or witches who knew the magic
that well. He got to his point, though.

"Professor, here is my question.  If I exchange so many
units of me into energy, and exchange other sources into
energy, if I convert it back to myself together, will that
likely enhance me or be a neutral response, or .?"

She blinked. What a question. "In transfiguration, if you
transfigure multiple objects into one target object, you can
re-transfigure the originals back as long as you do it one
at a time. It is not done often. Conservation of mass
applies to transfiguration. I would say that conservation of
energy would apply to your fire-exchange spell."

Carvyn pushed further. "Then if I were to fire-exchange a
cursed object, separate the curse from the object and
exchange them back, the curse would be lifted and separate?"

"As long as it was cast on another compatible object."

"What if I didn't exchange it back from energy?

They both thought a moment. "It would probably explode."
Then McGonagall  thought, "Have you experimented with
changing the energy aspect?"

Carvyn's eyes went wide. "No, I never have. Taking the
energy from another source, converting it into me-energy,
and re-inserting it at the end as a part of me? Never tried
it."

McGonagall lit a candle, and placed it in front of him. "Try
now."

Carvyn initiated the spell, and the feeling of freedom and
fire flushed through him. He reached out and captured the
candle flame, caressing its gentle flicker, absorbing it,
and then converted back to himself. He felt refreshed,
alive, hopeful, and even stronger. Yes, stronger. He
conveyed the experience to McGonagall, who nodded in
response.

"Yes, I was hoping from your description that it would be
so."

Carvyn took a breath, and then asked the question, "Do you
think it would work the same on a part of ones soul, that
might be associated with a Horcrux?"

McGonagall was silent. She then reached into her desk and
pulled out a dusty old book. "I cannot discuss Horcruxes.
Howerer, those filthy Dark objects are completely described
in that book. I have kept it because the author was so
stupid as to not put any wards on it. Don't let anyone know
you have it." She paused. "From what my understanding tells
me, yes, if you convert the soul of a horcrux into energy,
if you wish to hold onto that energy, it basically just adds
to your strength." She stood. "One more thing. No committing
murder."

"Only once, Professor. Only once."

Professor McGonagall took that in, and then went absolutely
white. "I think I understand too well. You watch yourself
and Harry. We know he is going to kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
Named. But you are far more brilliant and resourceful than
Harry. If you are doing this together, you have the best
chance of anyone." She sighed. "Such a tragedy that you have
to deal with this at your age."

Carvyn regarded her, surprised. "I've been independent for
most of my life; Hogwarts was the best thing that could have
happened to me."

She snorted. "I would say that your summer job was the best
thing for you. May I ask what you did do for that?"

Carvyn grinned. "I worked on the restoration of the Grand
Orgue a l'cathedrale de Saint Etienne du Mont, a Paris. J'ai
dort avec les etudiants de Beauxbatons parce que il a ete
pres de l'cathedrale." Ooops. "Sorry, that happens
sometimes. I helped restore the organ at the cathedral of
Saint Etienne du Mont in Paris. I lived with the students at
Beauxbatons because it was near the cathedral, and I could
afford it. Otherwise, the Muggles would have found me an
orphanage."

"That must have been very interesting. What did you think of
Beauxbatons?"

"It was fluffy. Everything was soft, pastels, like living in
a plush doll house. Very few students over the summer, but
in exchange I taught some music. The cathedral was a
wonderful experience. It was working with muggles, but
muggle artists trying to recreate something from a bygone
era. I was the smallest and have always had a talent for
climbing, so I would climb the casework up to maybe a
hundred feet above the cathedral floor and work with the
pipes and the mechanism." He stopped, and then, continued.
"But when we were done, and we got to play the instrument as
it had originally sounded, it was so exquisite that I cried
afterwards. But, I spent my summer climbing and learning a
centuries-old trade in Paris."

Minerva McGonagall was astonished. "I have rarely heard the
like. What a wonderful experience!" They bid each other a
pleasant holiday, and Carvyn left her office.

Carvyn needed to find a cursed object. A mild one to start,
but one cursed by someone else. He could not ask Snape or
Dumbledore. He decided there was one individual that might
help him.  Taking a teacup from the dining room (no one
would miss it) he went in search of Draco Malfoy.

He found him in the Slytherin Common room. Draco sat there
with his entourage, brooding slightly. He caught sight of
Carvyn and frowned. Carvyn went up to him however. "Draco,
can we speak privately for a few minutes?"

"I suppose so," Draco drawled. They moved to a corner of the
common room.

Draco spoke first. "I have upheld the cease-fire."

"So have I. You have my thanks for that."

"Whatever. What I want to know is, what do my parents know?"

"Ahh. As far as I am aware, they know nothing about the
first incident. If they do, it is because someone else told
their parents, and their parents told yours. But Snape,
Dumbledore, and myself had agreed to keep the parents out of
it."

Draco considered this. "Hopefully no one spoke it up." He
looked at Carvyn. "So what was it that you wanted?"

"I'm doing an experiment. I need someone to place a curse on
this teacup, other than me. I thought you could do the best
job."

Draco's eyebrows rose. "A compliment. I could almost like
you. Try this one." Draco mumbled something. "Anything
placed in the teacup now will instantly dry up, leaving only
the non-water materials. Happy tea time." And he left Carvyn
with his cursed object.

Carvyn went to his little office. It was still there and
still his. He brought the candle over. He set the teacup
down, and poured a little water into it. Immediately, the
water bubbled away and left him an empty cup. Carvyn
grinned. Here we go, he thought.

Holding the teacup, he executed the fire-exchange spell. At
once they became fire. Carvyn then separated the teacup from
himself, and converted it back to matter; in this case,
another teacup. He could feel the curse as energy. He kept
that energy within himself, then transferred it as energy to
the waiting candle. Carvyn then converted himself back from
fire to a young man again.

The candle stayed lit with a greenish tinge. He poured water
into the teacup, which acted like any ordinary teacup. The
curse had been broken! He himself felt fine. He blew out the
candle, and the curse evaporated with it. SUCCESS!!!!!!!!!!

Elated, Carvyn went to find Harry, and found him outside
with a group of Aurors waiting to escort him to the Burrow.
Carvyn automatically and immediately put on his distant cool
demeanor as he approached them.

"Harry, I need to talk to you before you go, privately. Do
you have a minute?" And then, he slowly licked his lower
lip. He knew that someone had noticed because of the
ungracious snort that followed.

Harry moved away from the group, and they ducked into an
alcove. "What could be -" as Carvyn attacked Harry's mouth
in a passion-drenched deep horny kiss. He held Harry as
close to him as could possibly be done, as tightly as he
could, and then loosened his grip on him, breathless.

"I have so wanted to do that!"

"And did it you did." Harry was still clinging to Carvyn.
They wouldn't see each other for a couple of weeks.

"Harry, three things to remember. First, I tested a theory
on how to eradicate the curse from an object harmlessly. It
worked perfectly. We need a Horcrux next. Second, we should
do more testing, so gather a collection of cursed objects if
you have access to any, or get someone to curse some stuff,
and we can test it better. Bring it with you when you
visit."

They kissed one more time, then broke apart. As they
rejoined the group slowly, Harry asked, "What's third?"

Carvyn whispered in his ear, "I love you, Harry." Harry
totally blushed.

It was as they left that Carvyn realized that one of the
Aurors was staring at him. She made her way over to him
quietly, indicating that she would join up in a minute.
Carvyn slid back into his demeanor.

"What's with you and Harry?"

"What are you referring to?"

"Well for one thing, I've never seen him blush like that
before. For another, that was a really intense kiss you gave
him."

Carvyn regarded her with his most frigid stare. "That is
between Harry and myself, I think. I hope that you see it is
in his best interest if you do not share that knowledge with
anyone."

She considered him a moment, then said, "For now. Though
knowing Harry, if it is important to him it will come out to
his friends." She cringed. "Bad pun. What about you?"

Carvyn watched the group for a moment, then turned to the
young woman Auror. "I can take care of myself, thank you."

She shrugged. "Guess so. My name is Tonks, if we meet
again."

Carvyn kept watching the group recede. "Harry will introduce
me when he is ready."

Tonks grinned. "Oh, I know who you are." And she began to
rejoin the others.

Carvyn was alone now. It was cold, and he went back into the
castle. Though few of the faculty were still there, it was a
large and quiet place that was missing the continuous noise
of the young wizards and witches there. Not unfriendly, but
at rest. He had almost begun to consider the castle as a
being rather than a structure. Together, he and the castle
missed the one thing that had made this year so far: Harry.

Professor McGonagall and Hagrid joined him in one of the
sitting rooms adjoining the Great Hall. They had decided to
join him on his walk down to Hogsmeade, from where he could
Apparate to his house in Kerinou, Bretagne in France.

He had sent Winky along first. She was so excited to go that
he decided she didn't have to wait. She took his trunk along
with her. He had received a short lecture from Hermione
Granger about house-elves, which he largely ignored. As long
as Winky was happy and cared for, then he must be doing the
right thing.

Hagrid looked at Carvyn. "Yeh know, yeh ain't too bad fer a
Slytherin. Ih know yu've been keepin' Harry out of trouble.
`Ead Boy and all, y'kinda popped in out of nowhere."

Carvyn had always liked animals, and had respect for the
eccentric gamekeeper turned professor. "Thank you. I also
have always enjoyed working with the game."

McGonagall joined in. "It was also obvious that you are very
musically talented. Even Albus commented on the buildup of
magic during that event. What have you thought about for
career options?"

Carvyn had struggled with that. His original choice made as
a fifth year had been as historian but he had taken all the
coursework he could. "I honestly don't know anymore. This
year has changed my entire perspective. Teacher, I expect,
as that went well with potions and I enjoyed it." He smiled
just a little bit. "Other than that, I think my skills are
in the investigative arts."

Both McGonagall and Hagrid agreed that he would make an
excellent teacher and that he should consider a post at
Hogwarts when he was old enough.

Finally it was time and they departed for Hogsmeade.
Hogsmeade was quiet without all the students running around.
Carvyn bid them farewell, concentrated on his own home in
France, and disapparated.

Hagrid and McGonagall stared in amazement. There had been no
sound, no noise, nothing. No one had ever disapparated
without the resounding crack before. They just looked at
each other, not believing, but realizing that that was one
special young wizard.

Christmas came, and Harry was greeted as usual by a pile of
presents. He and Ron were almost through when each noticed a
box that was somewhat different from the others. Ron opened
his first, to find a scarf and gloves combination made from
cashmere and leather. Each had the house symbol of
Gryffindor stenciled into the weave. The color was a deep
brown.

"Blimey, look at this! It's the first thing I have to wear
that wasn't homemade or hand-me-down!"

"The color suits you too," said Harry. The both looked at
the orange jumper with the big letter R on it. Ron sighed.

"I know, but my mum made it." He picked up the jumper, and
at once the color of the scarf and gloves shifted to match
the jumper, although in a more subdued tone. They both
stared. "Wicked!" cheered Ron. He then looked back in the
box and found a short note.

     Dear Ron,
     Happy Christmas. I didn't know your color preference
but this will give you some
     Flexibility. Wear them in good health.
     Yours,
     Carvyn

Harry had a smaller box. He tore through the paper and
inside the box was another box labeled "For Hermione", and a
silver-wrought and stained glass butterfly. It was very
beautiful, and reminded Harry of the freedom that they kept
getting glimpses of. Harry was lost in looking at it, when
Ron grabbed the note and read it aloud.

     Dear Harry,
     Happy Christmas to you! I found this to remind you of
the time we had when I played "The
     Butterfly" for you. They don't seem to have MP3 players
in the wizarding world, but if you
     Hold the base and say "Play" then I have charmed it to
play for you. Missing you very much.
     All my love,
     Carvyn

There was a moment of silence. Ron stared at the note. Harry
picked up the butterfly, held its base and said, "Play." At
once, not loud, but clearly the lilting theme began again
and Harry was lost in the memory of that first time out on
the cliff. He turned it over, and inscribed on the base were
the words, "recordee le vingt decembre 2006."

Ron broke the silence. "Harry, are you gay?"

Ron was his best mate. "I don't know. Right now, lets just
say that I've found a very special friend."

Ron thought a moment. "You know, that's OK." He looked a
little sheepish. "Sorry I read your love note."

"Don't worry about it." He looked at Ron. "This shouldn't
change anything. You have your Hermione, everyone else has
found couples to be with."

"Er, Harry . did you ever . well . fancy me?"

Harry giggled. "Once, when I first found out I liked boys.
But you are so straight that I've never given it a second
thought." Harry was greatly relieved that Ron was accepting
this. "Come on, I've got a box here for Hermione. Who knows
what Carvyn put into it."

Ron stopped short and seized Harry's arm. "Harry, he's the
one, isn't he? The one for you?"

Harry looked at Ron. "Maybe, I think so, but we've never
been together except when we needed to help each other.  It
is much more than that, which we can discuss later, but yes
he could be the one for me." And before it could get more
weird, he started downstairs with Ron following.

Fleur de la Coeur, fianc‚e to Bill Weasley, was downstairs
amongst the Weasley crowd. She greeted Ron and Harry, and
immediately purred as she saw the scarf he was wearing. "Zat
is verrry verrry stylish and harrrd to find. Yes, a
disteenct improvement."

Harry presented the box to Hermione, who opened it with
curiosity. Inside was a small intricate bottle of perfume.
Testing some on her wrist, its gentle fragrance lifted the
spirits and alerted the senses. Fleur noticed the scent
immediately, and went over to Hermione to begin whispering
in her ear. Hermione immediately turned bright pink,
stoppered the bottle and hid it from sight.

Fleur snickered at Ron in a knowing way as Hermione read the
note, blushing furiously. Finally, she looked at Ron and
snickered herself. "This should open up some interesting
possibilities."

Harry had had little idea what to send Carvyn for a
Christmas present. He had finally settled on a music theory
book that had offered insights into various composers. It
was not a deeply personal gift, but it did show that he was
paying attention.

Christmas dinner was about as expected. Everyone ate too
much, Molly got a little tipsy from too much firewhiskey,
and Ron and Hermione had snuck off somewhere for a good
snog. Harry was feeling peaceful, and his thoughts had
turned to Carvyn. He looked out the window, wondering which
direction France was, and what was happening with him.

"You are a million miles away." Bill and Charlie had sat
down with him. "We've seen you growing older and recognize
that expression. Who is she? Tell us all about her."

Harry froze inside. Outside, he was able to keep his wistful
look just barely. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Denial will get you nowhere. We know it
isn't Hermione. Perhaps the interested Cho?"

"Oh no. Cho and I are so over. It never even was anything to
begin with, because all she did was weep all over me. Not
the ideal romantic type."

"So who is she? Is she a Gryffindor?"

He sighed. This was going to be tricky. But he knew Ron
would blurt it out at the first opportunity, so he decided
to play along. "A Slytherin. But unlike any Slytherin you
have ever known."

They were surprised. "Wow, breaking the ranks? Well, not all
Slytherins are bad. Although all the ones in your year
seemed particularly horrid."

Fred and George came over. "Oh yeah, they were right ugly
they were. You fancying a Slytherin? That probably gives the
Order a start."

"They don't know it yet."

"They will." Harry didn't know about Tonks. "So tell us
more. Is she tall? Short? A little ugly or a lot ugly?"

Harry grinned. "Tall, slender, very graceful. Amazingly
talented. Long hair, brown. Excellent hands. Just recently
became so incredibly hot."

"A good kisser?"

Harry blushed just a little. "The best. By like miles. I've
never known anyone like . uh . it."

Fred and George pounced. "You are hiding something!
Underage, perhaps? Maybe a Professor?"

Harry laughed at that. "You're right - one of the barmaids
at the Three Broomsticks!"

Bill was watching too. Suddenly something clicked. Bill had
noticed that Harry had been very comfortable around Fleur.
With her Veela blood, all the other wizards were just a
little awkward. Not Harry. He decided that Harry was family
and there would be no easy way for Harry to announce it if
it were true, so he decided to press him on it.

"Harry, she isn't a she, is it?"

The group got dead quiet. Harry's smile died.

Bill kept going. "Don't you dare close up on us. Charlie is
bi, and most of us have had some experimentation in our
backgrounds, but we have been the closest thing to family
that you have. You have to tell us. You have to say it in
your own words." He smiled reassuringly. "Besides, with that
kind of a description we are going to want to meet him,
especially if he is so important to you."

Harry knew they were right. He also saw a galleon pass
between Fred and George. "All right, Fred, George, who bet
that I might be gay?"

Fred grinned. "I did. It was a long shot, though."

Harry loosened a little. It was a warm comfortable
environment with people he knew and loved. "Yes, Bill, he is
a he. I've felt more attracted to guys than girls for a
couple of years now, since the Cho thing. And no, nothing
has happened between me and Ron."

Charlie hugged him. "That wasn't so bad, was it? I've
suspected for a while."

"Carvyn and I have kept it quiet at Hogwarts; only Ron and
Dumbledore know that I know of."

"CARVYN!?! The Muggle-Born Slytherin?" That was Ginny who
had snuck up into the group. "He is wicked hot!" And she
went on about him. Harry was kind of glad that the family
was hearing this from her.

Bill was still watching him. Yes, Harry loved someone,
though maybe not "in love", and not comfortable with it
exposed. Best thing would be to get this guy over here and
integrated into the family. Then they could all check him
out. He got up to talk to his mum and dad.

"Mum, Dad, we've had some developments." He waited until he
had their attention. "First, Harry's got an intimate male
friend." They reacted somewhat, though being gay or bi was
not uncommon. "Second, it is pretty clear that he is really
important to him. I thought that we would like to meet him."

"By all means, take Errol and invite him this instant. We'll
have leftovers tomorrow lunch, so invite him for early
afternoon and dinner." Molly sniffed for a moment. "They're
all growing up. Even Ron is giving in to his hormones."

Bill went back to the group. "Harry, I'm going to need your
help. I need to address an invitation for Carvyn to visit us
tomorrow for dinner." Harry turned completely white. "Relax!
No one here has attacked you, freaked out, or anything. You
are you and that is it. Carvyn is important to you, so he is
important to us. But where does he live?"

"I don't know, actually. He lives in France. Do you think
Errol could get there with only that?"

"Not likely. I have an idea, though." He called Fleur over.
"Fleur, my gorgeous darling, we are trying to track down a
young wizard. He goes to Hogwarts, but apparently he did
spent a couple summers at Beauxbatons. Would you know him?
His name is Carvyn .?" Bill looked at Harry.

"Le Marquis Carvin de Sernin." Harry cringed inwardly.

Fred and George's eyes lit up. "YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH AN
ARISTOCRAT? This is too bloody good."

Fleur smiled wide. "I do know Carvyn le Marquis de Sernin.
He iz one of the ones who prefers nice young men. Ah Harry,
what a lucky one you are! Il est exquisite!"

"Do you know where he lives? He has mentioned a small estate
in Brittany."

"Yes, he lives at the Maison de Sernin, Kerinou-sur-la-mer,
Bretagne, France."

Bill addressed the note, tied it to Errol, and sent him on
his way. Harry felt a warmth through him spread around the
rock in the pit of his stomach. The Weasleys would soon
encounter Carvyn. With all that was coming up, he really
wanted their approval of Carvyn.

Errol glided out of the Burrow, down the lane and into the
distance. He flew over London, down and out over the English
Channel, down to Le Havre, and then finally west along the
north coast of France, stopping in Brest for a sense of
direction. Finally again towards the sea, Errol flew to a
spacious stone house shrouded in a chill salty mist. He
alighted on the broad front porch, and tapped on the window.

The tapping caught Carvyn's attention. Letting the owl in,
he untied the note, read it, and gave a huge jolt. He had
figured that the Weasleys had at least a couple of days
before someone spilled the beans, but not within 24 hours.
So here he was, cordially invited, to tea and dinner at the
Burrow. Harry would be counting on him being there. He
quickly scribbled  a response, re-tied the note on Errol,
and sent him on his way. He would be there.

Carvyn shivered slightly. He and Winky had returned to the
house. Winky had immediately gone to the kitchen and began
working in that room. Carvyn began with his wand and started
cleaning the main floor. What he didn't count on was Winky,
or rather the other house-elves. The ones at Hogwarts had
been so happy for Winky that they followed her to the house
and began cleaning and freshening with a frenzy. By the time
Carvyn had gone through the bills, the house was spotless,
with warm fires in the fireplace and something cooking. As
night fell, Christmas Eve, he had only the Muggle Wing
remaining to attend to. Winky didn't understand.

"Winky, this house is over four hundred years old. I
received it as a gift from my grandmother when she learned I
was going to Hogwarts. I love it, and have managed to clear
it of loans, mortgages and debts. But remember, I was born
and brought up as a Muggle. Rather than touch the house as
it was, I built an extension that would be compatible with
the Muggle world. It works out very well, actually, because
the house is historic and I use that as an excuse in case
people bother me about it."

"Winky wants to take care of the Muggle Wing too. But there
are so many things in there that Winky doesn't know."

Carvyn smiled, thanked her, and said, "Winky has already
been so much help. I have never spent time with house-elves,
so you must tell me what you need. I am a most patient and
understanding person, you know."

Winky told him that she needed nothing, she was happy to be
needed and to have such a splendid house to care for. She
would be mostly not visible unless called for or otherwise
necessary. She would cook all the meals, clean all the
house, and take care of all the laundry.

"Winky, I am completely grateful. Thank you." And with that
she left to do her things.

Carvyn went to his room. When he had taken ownership of the
house, he had used a small bedroom on the first floor while
he renovated the rest. Now, he used the master bedroom suite
on the second floor, with its king size bed, king size
fireplace, and red and brown tapestries. It looked very much
like a sixteenth century bedroom, and he had gone to lengths
to make it so. The windows were modern though, and from them
one got a full view of the surrounding grounds on three
sides, down to the rocky shoreline and the crashing waves.
The sea was in his blood, and the music it made was
eminently satisfying.

The rest of the house was divided into several guest rooms
on the second floor, a spacious loft and observation lounge
on the third floor, with the main living space on the first
floor. There was a large room at the other end that spanned
two stories on the inland side. This was the Library and
Music room, and of course along one wall was mounted a pipe
organ. Two stories of bookshelves were mostly full, many
with magic whispering through them. On the flagstone floor
there was a large brown carpet. Only very narrow windows in
this room. A staircase rose to connect the second tier of
the library with the second floor of the remainder of the
house.

The Muggle Wing was the curious part. Built also from stone,
it had had water damage and had been completely cleaned,
sealed and equipped with electricity, cable TV, and all the
accoutrements of muggle life. There was an attached garage,
where there was a small Fiat automobile. Carvyn had passed
the drivers tests but did not drive often.

This evening, Christmas Eve he had traveled to nearby Brest
to pick up some gifts for Harry and Ron, and as an
afterthought, Hermione. While Brest isn't Paris, it still
has its flair, and he was happy with what he had purchased.
Winky had made him a nice dinner, and he had then gone up to
bed.

Bed. His bed. Not his Hogwarts bed, not the bed he grew up
in, but his adult young man's bed. It was one of the only
times he could actually stop and relax. He couldn't wait to
share it with Harry. Finally being home, he slept very well,
and had no visits from Blast-Ended Skrewts.

The morning found him rested. Winky had brought him
breakfast. She still bubbled and talked to herself about how
happy she was when she served him, and then largely
disappeared the rest of the time. It was while he was eating
breakfast that he noticed the arrival of a small package
addressed to him. Harry had given it to Winky before they
left. Curiosity overcame him, and he opened the present that
Christmas morning.

Inside was a book on the composition styles of several
famous classical musicians - Saint Saens, Levebre-Wely, and
Cesar Franck. Carvyn grinned - he had always liked the
French Romantic music era. He read the note that accompanied
it.

     Dear Carvyn,
     I thought that this might interest you. I already feel
that we are apart, and it gets me down.
     Looking forward to when we are together again!
     All the best,
     Harry

It was then that he really felt the emptiness of the house,
but the anticipation of seeing Harry again. He would have to
find a suitable gift for the Weasleys - perhaps a bottle of
wine? He hadn't been in his grandmother's wine cellar in
ages. She had showed him where the really good wines were.
Then he remembered - he had an expert.

"Winky, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Winky popped into view. "Yes, Maitre?" Carvyn winced. Maitre
is French for "master."

"Winky, lets go to the wine cellar. I will be visiting Harry
and the Weasley family tomorrow at their house, and I want
to bring a nice bottle of wine. Can you help me choose?"

Winky was very happy; her old master liked good wine. When
they arrived in the cellar, there was only one rack of wine
left, but Winky muttered and fluttered in excitement over
the vintages present. She chose one for him, and Carvyn
recognized it as a sophisticated choice for any entr‚e.
Perfect.

Only one major problem left: what to wear. Carvyn had a lot
of muggle clothes, and some varying forms of dress robes,
but what to wear!?! Go wizard, he thought. But not brown. He
had ordered burgundy as well (he thought he looked silly in
blues) but he also had hunter green. Green, he decided.
After all he was Slytherin. He selected the hunter green
tailored shirt, black pants and polished black boots.
Brighter colors would have been more festive, but he didn't
have any of those. Finally, he selected a cloak that was so
dark green it was nearly black. Trying it all on, he looked
at the effect. Good.

He removed the cloak and turned to fold it, and stopped
dead. The reflection back at him in the mirror showed the
natural oblique view, not a mannequin slouching in front of
the mirror. He saw the shoulders outlined in the shirt, the
long, graceful hands and strong arms, following the line of
his neck and back down to that now slightly visible curve
over his trim butt. His long hair fell just right and he
realized that he looked like one hot intense sexy guy!! He
gave himself a sloppy grin (which only helped matters) and
removed and set aside the rest of the clothing. He realized
he looked just as good nude as he did clothed. That sent him
into a fit of laughter. The Weasleys would think him a
sexpot!

Dinner was fine that night. Another owl showed up, asking
him to visit some of his friends that he had met at
Beauxbatons. They were going to a dance club in Paris a few
nights from now and wanted him to come along. He agreed by
return owl; perhaps Harry might come with him?

Carvyn snickered again. So much had changed. All the organ-
building work over the summers had gotten him looking good,
but he had learned to move from a couple of young men and
women from Beauxbatons. They had gone out dancing about half
of the summer at night. Carvyn's first attempts had been
embarrassing, but finally one of the guys caught on and
showed Carvyn how to move. That was when the change had
begun.

Pierre was a young wizard around the same age as Carvyn, but
totally straight. They had gone out in a group several times
to some clubs, but this one particular night they had gone
to a very sophisticated swank dance club in Paris. Pierre
had noticed that Carvyn was OK until he got on the dance
floor. After that, he was so stiff and so measured that he
couldn't dance. Pierre sighed, gave up on the night and
grabbed Carvyn.

"Carvyn, you look all wrong out there. Too stiff, too jerky,
just awkward! Come with me." And Pierre pulled Carvyn onto
the dance floor. Pierre immediately began a smooth and
sultry movement that followed the music well. Carvyn watched
him, tried to imitate him. Pierre stopped, told him to
loosen up, listen to the music, and don't try to dance with
him. Dance with himself. Feel the music, let your movements
reflect how you feel and how the music is making you feel.
He had to forget that anyone else was there, because they
didn't care about his dance. Carvyn's dance was for himself,
by himself, and once that was mastered then he could try
imitative with a partner.

For weeks Carvyn danced by himself, for himself. Pierre gave
him minor pointers, but Carvyn had already gotten the idea.
On his last night, the group went to a special dance club -
this one of course had the sexiest dancers, the most
provocative music, and an upscale atmosphere. Carvyn had
really gotten caught up in the music, dancing and writhing
in what he felt as true Slytherin fashion when he had opened
his eyes to find four beautiful girls following his
movements and just millimeters away from him. One had gone
as far as to run her hand down his back. The others got
closer so that they all were gently caressing in some very
interesting places. Rather than escape, his usual choice,
for the first time ever he chose to stay, to bask in the
attention and milk the experience. When the music had ended,
he was glad he had. So were the four girls. They each tried
to get him to continue, but with a smile and a wink he
declined, went to the bar for a drink and then back to his
friends. They all applauded him - even the Beauxbatons girls
had been turned on by his dancing. Pierre claimed credit, of
course.

Carvyn smiled. That one night, he had asked Pierre if they
could dance together. Pierre had been a little startled, but
then happily agreed. Pierre suspected that Carvyn was gay,
but had never asked. This kind of confirmed it, and Pierre
was friend enough that he had no fear of things going too
far. So they danced. They seemed to have a mutual
understanding of what to do, and it showed. The crowd parted
and a spotlight highlighted their sensual movements as they
gently brushed up against each other time and time again,
sharing an intimate bond.

When the music ended, it was almost painful to see them.
Knowing they were in the spotlight, they had separated
during the applause, and Pierre held out his hand, handshake
style. This was Carvyn's last night of dancing for months,
and he stepped forward and grabbed Pierre in a big hug,
which Pierre returned. Then they shook hands, smiling, and
went back to the group, amid even more applause.

Pierre had made only one comment to Carvyn about that night.
He had said, quietly, "I have never danced with anyone quite
like that, and I doubt I ever will again. It was you, my
friend, that made it work." And they stayed friends. Pierre
had many female conquests, but he always remembered that no
one had danced together with him like Carvyn had.

Pierre had sent the owl, Carvyn realized as he got ready and
into bed. Pierre would be very interested in Harry. He
wondered if Harry could dance.

Morning came. Needless to say, at the Burrow a furious
housecleaning was going on. Fleur had taken Harry under her
wing and tidied him up as much as possible. Plucking eyebrow
hairs was one thing; colognes and hair gel were something
else. Harry had so few nice clothes that Fleur, Hermione and
Molly Weasley each freshened up his jeans. Bill produced a
burgundy broadcloth shirt that fit Harry very well.

Harry was very embarrassed with all the attention, but at
the end he was able to look in the mirror and see that he
looked good. Attractive. Stable. Bill had tried for sexy
with the shirt but it was tastefully understated.

Molly was cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Harry felt very
awkward, but also grateful. They really did treat him as if
he was family, and that meant that they felt they were
included in Harry's. When all was ready, they sat down and
waited. Grinning nervously.

Meanwhile, Carvyn paced. He had been ready for nearly two
hours. But the invitation had indicated two o'clock and he
was a fit of nerves. Finally, he realized what was missing.
He quickly moved to the Music Room, got his recorder, and
then began to play. The music settled him, and he found that
he could now control his breath well enough to fly through
the lower registers of the recorder with ease. He was going
to see Harry again, and the people that Harry considered his
family.

Finally, it was time. He glanced in the mirror, and the
gorgeous young man stared back at him. Cloak, outfit,
recorder, bottle of wine in hand, Le Marquis Carvin de
Sernin silently Disapparated from his house, and Apparated
just outside the Burrow.

The Burrow was .. The Burrow. It looked like it sounded. To
Carvyn, it represented the warm and comfortable-looking home
of the large family that his lover loved. He entered the
yard and proceeded to the only door he could see. No
snarkiness, no aloofness. He just let the happiness of this
meeting temper the anxiety. Not too eager, but yet affable.
Yes, friendly and affable. Politely, he knocked.

Harry had known the instant that Carvyn had Apparated. He
had been leaning back on the sofa, calm but alert, when he
felt he tingle down his spine of magic. He looked around,
saw that everyone else was quiescent, and said, "He's here."

"I'll get the door." Bill got up to answer the knock that
they were expecting. Harry called out, "Remember, he is
Slytherin, but he is on our side."

Bill grinned. "I dated a Slytherin once." Then the knock
came, and Bill opened the door.

The door opened in front of Carvyn, showing an elder Weasley
offspring. The resemblance was unavoidable. Bill was Bill,
long hair, earring, and all. His face split into a smile as
he welcomed Carvyn in.

"Well now, welcome, welcome! You must be Carvyn? I'm Bill
Weasley, eldest of the brood here."

"Thank you, Bill, it is a pleasure to meet you and the rest
of Ron's family." Carvyn entered the room to the round of
introductions, but for a moment he only had eyes for Harry.
Harry was standing there, waiting for him, not quite sure
how to proceed. Carvyn completely understood the feeling. He
decided to defuse it.

"Harry, didn't you miss me? For I most certainly missed
you." And then they were together in a close hug. And it was
totally right. They regained their confidence right then and
there.

Carvyn presented the bottle of wine to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,
who were very impressed and looking forward to savoring it.
One by one, Carvyn completed all the pleasantries and
settled into pocket discussions. Fleur and he caught up on
news and happenings. Tea was served, consumed and darkness
fell. Dinner cooked merrily on the stove under Mrs.
Weasley's careful eye.

As was typical, the Weasley parents moved into their own
conversation, and the kids of all ages began to ask the
questions that Carvyn knew would be unavoidable. They knew
he was Slytherin, but very atypical for most.  They were
fascinated by the discussion of the spell components,
although Carvyn told them only the basics.

Ron and Hermione had retreated off for some private time.
Things got quite interesting at that point. For starters,
Ginny asked him what had happened to Malfoy after the duel.
Carvyn knew full well what happened, and that she probably
had heard what happened. Charlie and Bill both perked up
because they knew their sister.

Carvyn looked up at the ceiling, then over at Harry who was
grinning. He explained the power-game that Snape had been
trying and how he got around it. But that wasn't what Ginny
wanted. She cornered him on the topic.

"Carvyn, never mind the cerebral stuff. What `correction'
did Malfoy get? If you don't tell them, it will be even
worse what I come up with."

Harry piped in. "Go on, its really wicked."

He sighed. "Snape gave me direct instructions to give Malfoy
a bare-assed over-the-knee spanking until he `bawled his
eyes out'. So I did. Hard. His ass was red from just above
his knees to his waist. Happy now?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Bill muttered, "Wicked
is right."

Ginny pressed on. "In front of who?"

"The entire Slytherin House. Snape called a halt after
twenty-five minutes."

Charlie was totally glazed over. "That must have been so
cool." He grinned. "I'm getting itchy just thinking about
it!"

Fred and George snickered. "How were you able to do it? That
takes guts."

"So what did his butt look like?"

"GINNY!"

"Well? A girl wants to know!"

Laughter. Then Carvyn answered, "White. Bouncy. He jiggled
all over the place as I spanked him. You'd be better off
with - well, never mind." More awkward giggles, but
apparently they were satisfied.

Harry had slowly edged over to Carvyn until their legs were
touching. It had been subtle, but Carvyn could feel Harry
all along his leg. He had been leaning forward, Harry back,
and was pleasantly surprised to find Harry's fingers tracing
patterns on his back. They all just sat in the group for a
few minutes, absorbing the tenuous peace. Automatically,
Carvyn's head filled with music, a `Berceuse' this time.

Ron and Hermione then rejoined the group, and Mrs. Weasley
called out for dinner. The table was crowded but enough room
was available if one was cozy. Carvyn sat between Harry and
Fleur. Conversation wandered from Hogwarts, to the Ministry,
and summer plans. Mr. Weasley had asked Carvyn about his
plans.

"Well, I haven't formalized any yet. The last couple years I
have gotten a summer job in France near where my
grandmother's estate is, so I have been maintaining that
along with muggle work." Carvyn smiled at Harry shyly. "But
now I have someone in my life who also may have plans, so we
will have to see how to work it out."

Fleur laughed. "During the summers at Beauxbatons, we have a
group who go visit the dance clubs. Carvyn is the most
enchanting dancer, are you not? I am sure Harry could join
us sometimes, no?"

Carvyn turned bright red. "A dancer too, eh?" Molly smiled.
"Arthur used to be quite the dancer as well! All those times
we danced at those parties."

Fleur laughed again. "Ah, but Carvyn's dance isn't quite the
same." She related the last time, though omitting the part
about Pierre. "Carvyn is a magnifique arousing dancer when
he feels like so."

Bill and Charlie looked at Carvyn appraisingly. Harry just
grinned with glee. It had been impossible to embarrass
Carvyn before. Carvyn bailed out with, "Well, what would you
expect with a group of French teenagers at a trendy
nightclub?"

Ginny asked for it. "Would you dance for us? And I mean
dance for us." Bill and Charlie nodded.

Carvyn replied, "Ah little one, I don't think you are old
enough." That brought a grunt of chagrin from Ginny. "I
will, however, dance for Harry." And his eyes flashed golden
with challenge.

They all heard the double-crack of an Apparition. Most
unpleasantly, this was the visit of Percy and the Minister
of Magic, Rufus Scrimageour. He isolated Harry, took him out
for a walk. Percy was obviously uncomfortable, and it was
obvious what was going on.

Carvyn watched the drama unfold. There was little he could
do. Percy had chosen to align with Cornelius Fudge, and
Fudge had been wrong. Percy couldn't get by the wrong choice
he had made, and be reunited with the family that was
waiting for him. What a tragedy, Carvyn thought. Having left
the table, Carvyn had stayed back out of the way, but at the
next awkward silence, Carvyn spoke up.

"You know, Percy, all you have to do is sincerely apologize.
People make mistakes. If they are sincere about getting past
them, it really isn't hard."

Percy glared at him. "And who are you to be so involved?"

The rest of the Weasley children stood up and began shouting
about how important Carvyn was to them and Harry, what good
manners he had, how well disciplined he was, Head Boy, and
more. Ginny was the one who threw the tomato.

The Minister and Harry returned. Harry looked angry but
controlled. Percy decided it was time to go. In the shocked
silence that pervaded, Percy commented to the Minister. "We
must get back. Besides, it looks like the family has sunk so
low as to invite Slytherins to Christmas."

The silence went from shocked to stunned. Carvyn's face went
from cool to frigid. The Minister looked up, and then at
Carvyn. "A happy Christmas to you, Mr. de Sernin."

"Your Grace." It was uttered in his snarkiest Snape
imitation. The entire family snapped to look at him as if
they had never seen him before.

"I beg your pardon?" The Minister seemed confused.

Smooth, chilling, and disdainful but not insulting. "The
proper way to address a Marquis is with the phrase, `Your
Grace'. I do hold the title of Marquis, officially
registered and duly recorded with the European authorities.
Perhaps the Ministry has forgotten its rules for common
courtesy." Carvyn looked down. "Fortunately, I am not easily
offended, and hence have not taken offense." He looked
straight into the eyes of the Minister. "Happy Christmas,
Minister."

When he had begun speaking, he had stood up and come forward
slightly into the light, arms folded. There was a distinct
aristocratic air about him that had appeared out of nowhere.
While no one was intimidated, somehow his presence dwarfed
all those around him. Ginny's mouth had dropped open.

Carvyn turned to Percy. "Happy Christmas, Percy. It is
tragic that the former Head Boy of Hogwarts I once knew and
admired should allow himself to be used so poorly, by Fudge
and now by the current Minister. Voldemort is indeed subtle,
and his actions have many ripples. I am glad Harry was able
to resist. I rather think that the sincere reconciliation
you so desire won't be that hard to start, but it will have
to come from you."

Percy flushed, and the exited with the Minister. The whole
room was dead silent. They stared at the door, except for
Harry and Ginny, who was staring at Carvyn. Carvyn had been
standing separate from the rest. He now moved over to Harry,
taking him in his arms, all airs and presence gone.

The conversation spread over about how awful the Minister
had been to pressure that on Percy. Fred and George were
fuming. Arthur Weasley was deeply disturbed and comforting
his wife. Ginny was the first to comment on Carvyn.

"Oh Merlin, that was something to see! How did you do that?"

Carvyn looked up from Harry. "Do what?"

"That Marquis thing. It was as if all of a sudden you were
crowned and royalty. And the way you spoke to them! That
would have shriveled a flower in summer!"

Carvyn laughed. His first laugh with the Weasleys, actually.
"Don't you recognize the imitation? The first was me acting
out McGonagall when she has been mortally insulted. The
second was Snape." He turned to Harry. "That's why you have
so much trouble with the spell components. It takes that
kind of control."

Arthur had come over. "That was indeed satisfying - I have
never seen anyone do that to the Minister. I don't think he
going to be your friend, though."

"I am not sure that I am one of his." Carvyn shrugged. "But
I hopefully have installed some sense in Percy. He really is
hurting inside from this."

They managed to get Harry calmed down and relaxed again.
Carvyn knew that it would be difficult to achieve, but he
had to ask anyway. "I very much would like to have Harry
come to my house in France. Times being what they are, do
you think there is some way we can achieve this?"

Arthur thought carefully. "Harry will come of age soon, so
he can make his own decisions. But I think that a day or two
should not be a problem as long as your house is warded?"

"Warded with runes throughout the construction, perimeter
detection field wards, and is Unplottable."

"That should be safe enough. Today is Thursday, how about
Saturday and Sunday?"

Carvyn looked across the room to Harry. "Harry, want to come
over to my place for Saturday and Sunday?  We have
permission." And he giggled.

Harry lit up like a sunrise. "Oh yes most certainly!" And
that was that.

The good thing about he and Harry was that they didn't need
to crawl all over each other. They could be lovers and still
be independent people. Carvyn took advantage of that and
cornered Charlie alone for a few moments.

"Charlie, can we discuss something very personal for a bit?"

"Sure." They separated from the group. "You fit in well
here, you know. Harry's found the right guy."

"Thanks, that's actually kind of related to what I need help
with."

"Oh?? What is it?"

Here goes, thought Carvyn. "Well, Harry and I have not had a
lot of sex."

"You will on Saturday, I'll bet. You two are positively
oozing hormones."

"Well, that's part of the problem. Harry has made a request
or two in no uncertain terms, and I'm not sure I can do it."

"Really?"

"Charlie, have you ever topped?"

"A number of times; I actually prefer being a top."

"Well, how do you do it?"

"First, we take our clothes off, then -"

"NO, not that part. Jeeez. This is hard enough as it is."

"Really?" Charlie snickered.

"Look, if you aren't willing to help,."

"OK, OK, I'm sorry. How do I do what?"

"Feel the attitude or whatever to be a . uh, well a . uh .
wild, sex-crazed rutting orangutan top."

"You are shy and introverted. Probably a tease too. So you
don't think you can be the big tough top that apparently
Harry is looking for?"

Carvyn looked down. "I've only ever been bottom."

Charlie grinned in sympathy. "Look, it isn't difficult.
Don't be the tough guy. Start out as what every lover wants
- an attentive, enthusiastic, creative lover. As thoughts
occur to you like, `It would be good if I did this', don't
wait or ask permission, just do it. Assume the answer to
everything is yes until you actually hear a no. Realize that
his being a bottom is as much an act of cooperation as it is
an invitation for him to be your playground. It may not
happen the first time, or the tenth time, but it will happen
that during one of those times, you will come to the
conclusion that the greatest thing in the world will be to
fuck him into the mattress. And he will realize it, and if
he is into it, you will suddenly be that tough guy top."

Carvyn took that in. "I guess I had always imagined it would
start from the beginning, and that the top would be rough
and demanding always from the start."

"It can be that way." Charlie looked a bit wistful. "I had
one friend like that. Every time I saw him I wanted to fuck
his brains out. I did too, a number of times. But then, I
almost always am top."

"Thanks Charlie."

"Don't mention it. But don't be surprised if I snicker a lot
on Sunday.." And he moved away.

It had gotten late. Time for Carvyn to return to his home.
Regretfully, he bid them farewell. But not before Charlie
spoke up.

"Look you two, we aren't convinced you are serious. How
about a nice wet smooch?"

Harry and Carvyn grinned, took each other in their arms, and
kissed deeply for just a moment, and then lips broke apart.
They held each other during the catcalls, and then Carvyn
whispered, "Just wait until Saturday. I love you."

"I love you too."

And before it could get any worse, he flung his cloak about
and silently Disapparated. Bill, Charlie, Molly and Arthur
were stunned, as no one could disapparate without the
telltale cracking sound.

The Weasley family and friends got ready for bed. Ginny was
actually the last to go up. She was writing carefully a
note. Ron, Hermione and Harry stopped to check on her.

"It is late, can't a note wait until morning?" That was Ron.

Hermione spoke up. "Not this one, if it is what I think it
is." Ginny flashed a grin at her.

Ron applied his usual tact. "A love note, perhaps?"

"Quite the opposite. I'm breaking up with Dean. After today
I realized what a total jackass he has been. I have much
better opportunities than him." She sealed the note, tied it
to Errol, and sent it on its way. "A sad Christmas for Dean,
I am afraid."

Harry's heart gave a leap. The LION within him roared, and
without knowing how or why, his entire day and perspective
lightened. It was only later, as he went to bed, that he
noticed that Carvyn was not in that moment.

Death Eaters were on the move again. They had changed the
visit plans down to an afternoon, with Aurors on the
property. Carvyn had suggested Tonks, but they also had sent
Remus Lupin as well. The three arrived in France in early
afternoon, would stay through dinner, and then return to the
Burrow.

Arthur Weasley had contributed several cursed objects from
his department at the Ministry. Carvyn had shown Harry how
the procedure worked, and that it continued to work for him
and to un-curse the objects. Lupin and Tonks had prowled the
area, but were undisturbed on the outside. They knew enough
to let Carvyn and Harry be on the inside.

It was nearing dinner time when both Carvyn and Harry had
settled down to just relax for a bit. The bedroom was
beckoning loudly to Carvyn, but he was able to sense from
Harry that Harry wasn't quite the same. All at once, Carvyn
realize that this was a time that they chose to be together,
rather than were put together by circumstances.

Harry also had realized that something had changed. Deep
down, he knew what it was, although he could not acknowledge
it. But Carvyn didn't hold all the intimate glow that he
might have before. Might have; Harry didn't even know if he
had looked before. All he knew was that his internal LION
had roared for Ginny. But Carvyn was his partner, his
friend, his comrade, his symmetry in the fight against
Voldemort.

In the peace and quiet, Carvyn spoke. "Harry, is everything
all right?"

Harry laughed. "Nothing has ever been all right for me,
ever. This is the best to date, although it is a bit
unnerving with Tonks and Remus about outside."

They both laughed. Carvyn continued, "Well, I am glad you
got to see the place. Apparate here anytime you are in need
or just want to visit. The house now knows you, Winky knows
you, and if anything happens they will tell me."

Harry was deeply grateful. "I guess Slytherins like to
create bolt-holes, and I will learn from that."

"Good." A pause, then, "This term coming up is going to be
hard. We don't get a break for a long time. Weekdays will be
a disaster, but lets make time to be together on the
weekends." He then spoke very quietly. "I've a book all
about Horcruxes. But we will also need to bone up on
locating spells in order to try and find them."

Harry agreed. "Dumbledore has almost finished our meetings."

At that point, Winky announced dinner. Carvyn got up, called
Tonks and Lupin in, and they all sat down to dinner. Harry
and Carvyn were across from each other, as were Tonks and
Lupin. Dinner was excellent, and all too short. After a
quick kiss and embrace, the three visitors apparated back to
the Burrow, leaving Carvyn wondering what exactly had
happened.

Harry spent the next two days at the Burrow. Ginny was
preoccupied with other things, many of them imitating Fleur.
Ron noticed that Harry was a little down. He and Hermione
tried to bolster his mood, which worked somewhat. They
assumed that he missed Carvyn and the botched weekend. They
were partly right.

Late that night, Harry had awakened. He felt anxious, taut,
and confused. There was no going back to sleep. He glanced
at the clock: 354AM. Everyone would be asleep. Harry decided
that he needed a good wank and then he would be able to
sleep. Ron slept so soundly that he wouldn't notice. Harry
moved to the floor, removed his pajama bottoms (he had to
wear real pajamas at the Weasley's), and slowly began
stroking his cock. It quickly lengthened to its full seven
inches, and began to ooze pre-cum. He must need this, as he
could already feel pressure at its base.

He thought of Carvyn, naked and lying on his bed. He began
to stroke faster. Carvyn, on his back, legs in the air,
totally passive for Harry to slide over, grinding together ,
and then thrusting deeply into his wet and waiting opening.
The moans of pleasure as he thrust deep and hard, bouncing
his breast back and forth, Harry getting closer and closer,
his lover's blond hair askew and freckles contorted in
pleasure almost painful as -

WHAT?!?! Harry's muscles tensed completely up and unloaded a
huge orgasm throughout his body as his fantasy culminated
with him fucking Ginny Weasley into the mattress. When he
was done, he just sat there at the edge of the bed. Ginny.
He wanted Ginny. What had happened to Carvyn? Profoundly
disturbed, he cleaned up and went back to bed.

Ron snickered slightly. He wasn't THAT light a sleeper.

Back in France, Carvyn had time to think about they day.
Harry had been clearly distracted. He would never have
described it awkward, but in thinking about the day and
their history, Carvyn realized that this was the first time
they had been together that one of them was not having a
crisis. Just two young men together, no real crisis, no
stressing sources, nobody injured or threatened. And much
reduced interest from Harry. They were very good friends
now. They had shared sex - No, he thought, Harry let me be
active even if he was the one inside me. They were joined in
their mission and resolve to end the reign of Voldemort. But
they didn't seem to fit into a relationship-type thing.

Carvyn remained hopeful. Two terms left. He decided to go
into his library and work through the book on Horcruxes. It
wasn't light reading by any means. But Carvyn now understood
the process of how they were made. To be successful, timing
was critical. And by what he read in the book, his approach
to the destruction of the Horcrux would work as well. The
difference being a piece of passive magic versus a piece of
a living soul. The book did not address a multi-part soul.

The next night had found Carvyn out dancing with his friends
from Beauxbatons. Carvyn had felt a little guilty at first,
but more emboldened as the old camaraderie was renewed.
Pierre was there, and noted distinctly that Carvyn had
gotten even hotter and sexier than before.

"Ah, Carvyn, there is a weight behind your eyes that was not
there before. Have you found somebody for yourself?"

Carvyn laughed ruefully. "If you had asked me last week, I
would have said yes. But now I am not so sure. He whom I
that thought was the one for me has changed, or maybe our
circumstances have."

"C'est l'amour, as we French say."

"I know that." Carvyn brought his voice down. "Sometimes
being alone is the simplest and most comfortable thing.
Other times, it is downright depressing. I don't know which
is right."

Pierre sighed. "Both are right. Both have their pleasures,
joys, sorrows." He gave Carvyn a knowing smile. "I feel for
you. But now that's over, so get out there and dance your
hormones away! You caught four girls last time; how about
five this time?"

Actually, it was eight. All Carvyn's friends were astonished
at how he could do this, but eight lovely ladies joined an
octagon around him and danced as Carvyn danced his heart and
frustration out. And just as easily, when the music changed
and he decided to take a break, he neatly divested himself
of them and went back to their table.

While he was taking a break, the music changed several times
and Pierre eventually came over with one of the eight.
Pierre was beaming.

"Carvyn, allow me to introduce Yvette here." Carvyn gave
here a light smile while Pierre went on, "We have been
dancing and she had remarked how much she had enjoyed
dancing with you. So I said I would introduce you." He
leaned very close, and whispered, "Actually, she said she
would only go to bed with me if you came along too. What do
you think?"

Carvyn internally did a double-take. Pierre was straight,
but apparently wanted this girl enough to risk a threesome
with him. Carvyn had never taken a dancing partner to bed.
It wasn't why he danced. So, maintaining his light demeanor,
he whispered back to Pierre, "Pierre, I don't think so. Its
just not what I do."

"Is it me or her?"

"Both. Pierre, you are a great, very straight friend. Why
risk that?  As for her, I'm not into one night stands."

Pierre flashed a grin. "Someday I might want you, you little
pouf! As for Yvette, I'll have to find some other way in."
He looked at her, shook his head. Yvette shrugged and pulled
him off with her anyway.

Carvyn made his way back out onto the dance floor. This
time, there was one young man out on the floor dancing by
himself. Carvyn slowly worked his way over and began a
symmetrical dance. He had never done this before, except
with Pierre.

The other guy seemed to accept him, and they danced a safe
distance apart. Three songs later, they were gently brushing
each other along the chest and waist regions. Each movement
gave him a small burst and tingle to keep going. Finally
Carvyn was so tired that he called a halt and gave the other
man his thanks. Together they moved to the bar.

Carvyn started. "Thanks, I thought that we did that rather
well. My name is Carvyn."

The other man laughed. "Mine's Andre. I know it was coming
out really hot. I almost never partner up with anyone. You,
however seem to attract a lot of girls."

Carvyn laughed as well. "Eight was a record. But nothing
ever comes of it."

"Nothing?"

"No, nothing. I'm too much of a recluse. Dancing is one of
my only social outlets, and because of that I absolutely
love dance."

Andre considered this. Oh well, this Carvyn was hot and he
would be back. Try to bed him another time.

They parted at the bar, and Carvyn went back to the table,
bid everyone good night, and made his way home, alone, as
usual. Climbing into his bed, his young adult man's bed, he
wondered if Andre would have come home with him. And then he
wondered about why he hadn't thought of Harry all evening.

The following day was filled with preparations for the
return to Hogwarts. Winky would mind the house but was free
to visit Hogwarts when she wished. Sending his trunk on
ahead, Carvyn silently Apparated back to Hogsmeade, from
whence he walked back up to Hogwarts.

Harry had returned with the Aurors and the Weasleys earlier.
There was so much going on to get ready for the next term
that they didn't even see each other until several days
later. And when they did, it was for a quick discussion
about Horcruxes.

Harry had been repeating what Dumbledore had told him, and
that he suspected that there were multiples of them. Carvyn
related that he had developed a new spell for the location
of related items given a template item. Their first
experience with a Horcrux would tell them whether it worked.

Short of that conversation, they barely saw each other all
term. There were no Hogsmeade weekends, the Astronomy tower
was bitter cold, and the professors heaped on the work. It
was after one such grueling exercise that Harry found Carvyn
sleeping in the library.

"Carvyn, the end is in sight. There are six Horcruxes out
there, but two have been destroyed, and one is the Dark
Lord's pet snake."

"Harry, that is great news. We only have to track down two,
as I think I have found one more."

Harry was excited. "Where? And how did you do that?"

Carvyn chuckled. "Using a computer. I did a search on some
parameters and came up with several likely locations. One of
them is at Godric's Hollow."

Harry turned white. "Of course."

"I'll want you with me when I test my approach."

"You got it! But not tonight; I have detention with that
bastard Snape, who is going to make me miss the Quidditch
game."

"OK, but soon." And they had had to leave.

What they didn't know was that that detention and that
Quidditch game would change their lives forever. For at that
game, during the detention, Gryffindor won, and when Harry
returned to his dormitory the true love that he and the LION
within had been hoping for leaped into his arms for a long,
drenching kiss: Ginny Weasley. They had gone out to the
garden to spend some intimate time together.

Carvyn had felt the love/joy burst from Harry, and then felt
it grow a little distant. He had walked quickly up to the
level only to see Harry and Ginny exit Gryffindor on their
way to the garden. With a total knot in his stomach, Carvyn
followed them invisibly and silently. He watched them in the
garden. The shimmering coming from them could only mean one
thing: it was each other's true love.

A part of Carvyn died that night. He wasn't angry. He wasn't
betrayed. He and Harry had pledged to help each other
through, and that they would. There was no commitment. They
hadn't felt ready. Apparently for good reason. But, so much
of what might have been! After a few minutes, Carvyn
retreated to his room, got his recorder, and went to the
cliff. To those who heard (which were not many) it sounded
like the very wind was weeping. Maybe it was.

They didn't see each other much. Carvyn went out of his way
to hide again, although Snape and the Headmaster continued
to task him with responsibilities. Even Snape noticed the
absolute silence that encompassed Carvyn. He had been at
least responsive before, but now his teachers all got cool
nods or head shakes. And no matter how hard he tried, Snape
could not corner him.

Frustration built up in Carvyn during those months.  And
those moments that one ached for sex with anyone, anything .
steeled his resolve. It steeled his other thing too. And
that was how it was, very late one night in the Slytherin
common room.

It was particularly bad this time. Carvyn slouched on the
sofa in front of the fire, brooding. Past midnight, minor
satisfaction of getting all his work done for the next two
days, He didn't even notice the other person enter the
common room until he sat down next to him.

Carvyn looked over at Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had obviously
been ready for sleeping, as he was dressed in green silk
boxer shorts. Just those. Nothing else. Carvyn automatically
felt himself stiffen just a little bit more.

Draco had been unable to sleep. Since his humiliating
experience with Carvyn, he had been obsessed with the idea
of surrendering control, of being a true bottom. What he had
tried once or twice with Crabbe and Goyle had failed
terribly; neither knew how to assume a leadership position.
Amazingly, he realized that the one person who he would
"take it in the ass" for was Carvyn. This had driven a
number of fantasies. Tonight had been especially difficult,
and Draco had noticed that Carvyn's bed was still empty. He
had decided to take a chance on the Common Room, and it had
paid off.

They regarded each other in silence. Draco slowly looked
Carvyn over. Oh yes, he was gorgeous. Malfoy knew that he
himself was pretty attractive, but that reaction explained a
lot. He looked at the strong long-fingered hands, hands that
had warmed his bare backside, and Malfoy felt a shudder of
sheer sensuality. He had never admitted it to anyone, but he
had actually enjoyed most of his "correction." It would have
been ideal if no one had witnessed it. But the total loss of
control, the feeling of someone having power and purpose
over you and not having any say in what happens, to be
submissive, that had been wicked wicked hot. Draco had never
told anyone, but he had come twice during the spanking. The
whisper and last resounding whack during it had been to
cover up the cleanup spell that Carvyn had used for him.

Draco shuddered again. Carvyn knew he had enjoyed it. His
nipples stiffened as well and a fresh rush of sensuality
flooded him. All this while they sat on the same sofa in
silence.

Carvyn watched the transformation on Malfoy. Pheremones,
hormones, whatever. He could feel his own sexual awareness
grow. His eyes grew to blaze, and he could feel his own cock
begin to strain within the clothes. Malfoy's was tenting his
boxers, and Malfoy was doing nothing to stop it. His chest
was lean but well-defined, totally hairless.  His legs had
picked up some light hair, which Carvyn followed up into the
openings of those boxer shorts.

They continued to stare, study, and each one holding silent,
daring the other one to break first. Eyes roaming, breathing
coming in just a little bit quicker, poised, tensed, ready.
Oh so ready.

Draco lost. Putting his fingers gently along his own cock,
and stroking once from base to tip, he said in a voice that
shook, "You may not believe this, but I have never bottomed
for anyone before. But if you don't get up and fuck me into
the next county right now, I think I will die."

Carvyn shuddered and surrendered to the feelings pounding
him. "Draco Malfoy, you are mine." Simple words, but with
the sexual sinister and unwavering voice, Draco melted.

Carvyn stood up and dropped his robes to the floor. Draco
gasped and then cooed in anticipation. Carvyn was absolutely
gorgeous and hung too. Carvyn muttered a few words and all
the doors were warded. No one would disturb or even hear
them now.

Carvyn descended on Draco, his eyes totally consumed by
fire. His mouth trapped Draco's, and the kiss that followed
was brutally intense. His tongue searched and stimulated as
his hands worked Draco's shoulders, chest and back. Carvyn
leaned forward, pressing Draco back into the sofa. It was
all Draco could do to receive the kiss and the incredible
sensations pumping through him.

Carvyn pulled back and stood. Draco still sat on the sofa,
and found himself eye to eye with Carvyn's very impressive
cock. One look from Carvyn as their eyes met, and Draco
devoured it with his mouth. He had a very apt tongue when he
wanted to, and he made the most use of it for Carvyn.
Draco's hands moved around Carvyn's waist and hips to grab
and knead his tight muscular butt. He let his finger trace
gently around the opening there, and Carvyn responded with a
long groan.

A slight shift in position, and Carvyn's hands came down on
either side of Draco's head. Without even breaking rhythm,
Carvyn began to move Draco's head back and forth, dragging
his tongue and sensual mouth along and back his entire shaft
length. He slowly drove the entire length into Draco's
mouth, who skillfully took it into his throat. No forcing,
no pain, but sheer drive and determination and a nice slow
cyclic rhythm sent Draco into submissive ecstasy.

Satisfied with his mouth, Carvyn broke off and pushed him
back down on the sofa. Draco's eyes glowed as Carvyn pulled
his shorts off and slowly licked the tip of Draco's cock,
then little by little taking more of it in his mouth. Carvyn
was driving Draco wild. Draco had actually started to
whimper each time Carvyn drew all the way out and then all
the way down, burying his face in Draco's golden hairs.
Draco had begun to shake uncontrollably.

Carvyn stopped for a moment, and pulled Draco forward so
that his opening was exposed at the edge of the sofa. Carvyn
remembered that Draco had never bottomed before; he was
going to take some prep work. Muttering the lubrication
spell, Carvyn gave Draco's opening the slightest pressure
with one finger, and then went back to work on his cock.

Draco continued to moan and shake. Carvyn had him right
where he wanted him, and slowly he drove his one finger into
Draco, stretching him, caressing that oh-so-sensitive
prostate bump inside of him. Draco gasped for air and
achieved a shattering orgasm right into Carvyn's waiting
mouth. Carvyn let none of it go to waste, and as a reward
Draco didn't even soften after that.

Two fingers, sliding in and out and Draco started to push
back on them. Carvyn then released his cock, turned Draco
around so he was kneeling on the sofa facing the back. Draco
moved his knees back and assumed a position in which his
butt was perfect for play. Draco looked back over his right
shoulder at Carvyn, eyes lidded in pleasure, and said, "I've
been a bad boy."

Carvyn knew what that meant. SMACK, not too hard, but not
entirely playful on the pale white butt. Draco moaned, "Oh
Yes!" on that one and each of the next ten. He had wiggled
and gasped and continued to jut out his butt. Carvyn then
slowly stretched him again with two fingers. But Draco was
ready.

Carvyn climbed up on the sofa. His cock settled along the
cleft between Draco's buttocks, and Carvyn brought his arms
up around Draco's chest and placed his hands back on Draco's
shoulders. He leaned forward to whisper into Draco's ear.
"And now, you . will . get . fucked."

Draco crooned in anticipation. He pushed back onto Carvyn,
who was grinding into him, Carvyn used the chance to run his
hands over Draco's chest, down to his abdomen, and then onto
his waist. Carvyn pulled back, aimed his long and very hard
cock into Draco, and slowly applied the pressure for
entrance. He whispered to him, "Push out when I say Now."
Draco mumbled agreement.

Carvyn increased the pressure. He could feel his cock head
pressing and slowly parting that little opening. He
breathed, "Now!" to Draco, who responded, and Carvyn surged
inside him.

Draco exclaimed, "Ahhhh ...aaaaaahhhh..AAAAHHHHHH!" Instead
of stopping, Carvyn kept going until he bottomed out, and
Draco let out a long moan of feeling. Carvyn gave him a
little time to get used to it, but Draco had asked and
Carvyn had told him. He was going to get fucked, long and
hard.

Carvyn started slowly but persistently. Ease in, most of the
way, draw slowly along the length out, most of the way. A
gradually increasing rhythm, compression and expansion,
savoring the tightness of Draco's oh so sensitive opening. A
little faster now, as Draco starts more grunting than
moaning. Carvyn was determined to satisfy his own personal
need to screw the living daylights out of him. He would not
stop until he was satisfied.

Draco was in heaven. He began a chant of "Deeper, Harder"
over and over again. This just encouraged Carvyn, who began
plunging all the way in to Draco with increasing intensity.
The sensation was unbelievable, and Carvyn brought his mouth
down to bite gently into Draco's shoulder. He moved his head
forward, tucking his victim's shoulder under his chin and
neck, gripping so hard as to crush their bodies together.
The contact was so electric that Carvyn lost all control and
began slamming into Draco even harder and faster, crushing
them both into the sofa back.

It was one final thrust that did it. Draco finally cried out
in shattering orgasm, his entire body going rigid and his
internal muscles clenching Carvyn so tightly that the last
thrust sent Carvyn over the edge. They clung together as if
carved in stone, their orgasms playing throughout their
bodies. Carvyn could feel Draco's spasms slowly subside, and
Draco had felt Carvyn fill him with his cum. Neither wanted
to move.

But they did. Regaining their breath, they each slid back a
little. Carvyn withdrew from Draco, and muttered a cleansing
spell. They both sat on the sofa to regain their control and
let their wobbly legs settle down.

"That was the best ever." Draco had mumbled it.

Carvyn offered a life line. "You know, it doesn't have to be
the only time. I am quite versatile." He laughed gently.
"But I never anticipated what just happened."

Draco had done some maturing over the past year. He knew and
sensed that they had fewer differences than similarities.
"We called a truce earlier in the year. Do you think we
could work towards friends?"

Carvyn considered him thoughtfully. "Yes, actually I think
we could. I think we could explore that very much with a
little honesty." They dressed, said goodnight, and went to
their respective beds.

And with that, a tentative relationship began. Draco gained
a lot of insight, and began to find ways to rid himself of
the Dark Mark. It was the one topic they could not discuss.
Draco knew he was trapped into his task, but kept looking
for a way to survive without truly succeeding.
Unfortunately, success was too close at hand.

The tragedy hit. The whole parts of the castle were in
uproar as the Death Eaters swarmed out of Malfoy's enchanted
wardrobe. They had taken advantage of his success beyond his
control. A dozen werewolves had also been let loose, and
Carvyn had been dealing with those. He had saved most of
Huffflepuff from the twelve of them. It had taken a lot of
stamina and some creative spellwork to get in close enough
to disable them. It wasn't until much later that he heard
what had happened, especially to Bill Weasley. Carvyn raced
to the Hospital Wing. Bill had been bitten by the worst
werewolf there was: Fenrir Greyback.

All the Weasleys were there, and Harry too, as well as Madam
Pomfrey. They all were dumbfounded and in shock at the death
of Albus Dumbledore. They welcomed Carvyn perfunctorily.

Carvyn pulled Madam Pomfrey aside. "Is it more than a bite?"

She nodded. "He's got several broken bones, but I've gotten
to them. We don't know what to do. The moon is out and up."

"I've got an idea." They went back to the group. "There may
be a way out of this for him. If he transforms into a
werewolf, what will you do?"

Silence. Then, Arthur spoke up. "The law says that we have
to . kill him."

Molly sobbed. Everyone looked devastated.

Carvyn took a breath. "I might be able to help him. There
are risks. It may not work. But it has worked on other
things in the past."

"What are you going to do?"  asked Madam Pomfrey.

"In short, I am going to convert him to energy, filter out
the negative energy from the werewolf, and then reconvert
him back. I have done this before with cursed objects."

Silence. "Is that possible?" asked Molly.

"Yes. It has to do with the spell components. Do you want me
to try?"

"Oh yes, please," begged Arthur. The rest of the group
joined in.

Harry examined Carvyn shrewdly. "How are you going to
filter?"

He sighed. "Genetically and by feel. I haven't done anything
this complex before." Raising his voice, Carvyn asked for
large area of stone floor and several candles on sticks.

"No one come near me while this is happening. No matter what
happens." And he picked up Bill, and carried him over to the
middle of the stone area. And then, with a deep breath he
converted the two of them into fire.

Carvyn could feel Bill with him. They felt strong, good,
perhaps even sensual. He could feel dark areas, the poison
spreading throughout them both now. He slowly began to
filter Bill and he, and extracting out the werewolf. Four,
five, six, seven candles received were lit with an ugly
brown flame.

Little by little, the filtering took place, until Bill
flowed strong and true through Carvyn. It was time to get
him out. He meticulously separated the two of them, until
all of Bill was in one place, and then he applied the
counter-exchange. The fire of Bill was then gone, and the
human being was suddenly standing there, wearing shirt and
pants covered in holes. Healed, awake, and free of the
werewolf. Everyone crowded around Bill, amazed. No one had
ever been able to do this before.

A moment later, Carvyn popped back into human form. He
immediately sank to the floor, and Madam Pomfrey came over
to him. Carvyn was exhausted. He had had to replace bits of
energy that were removed in some cases with bits of his own.
She brought him a restorative potion, which he took
willingly, and said, "That was a fine job you did on him."

Carvyn smiled wearily. "That was the hardest thing I have
ever had to do. I was able to get all but trace elements,
which may even collapse in on themselves."

Bill came over and gave Carvyn a huge hug. "Thank you. Thank
you for giving me my future back." He paused a moment, and
then very quietly, "I'm so sorry about Harry."

Carvyn grew still within the hug. "Thanks, and you are quite
welcome. I didn't realize so much had leaked out."

"It didn't take too much to see that you were unhappy about
the outcome."

Carvyn humphed as they split up. "They are happy and I have
dealt with it. We go on." He glanced at Harry, who was
helping Ginny recover from minor scrapes. "Especially now.
Without Dumbledore, the counter-Voldemort effort is going to
defocus for a bit. That gives Harry and I enough room to
hopefully complete our task."

Bill looked perplexed. "Task?"

All defenses aside, numbly Carvyn responded, "You mean
Dumbledore didn't tell anyone? There was a second prophecy.
I am the one who will defeat Voldemort's plan. Harry is the
one who will kill him once he is defeated. After its over we
can discuss how and why, but for now know that Voldemort's
defeat is my number two priority."

"What's number one?"

"Keeping Harry's arse alive so that when I am done with
Voldemort, Harry can finish him off."

They were silent for a moment. Bill just stared, with
dawning comprehension, and then said, "No two other people
could do it."

"Please don't discuss this with anyone. Anyone using
Legilimency on you will just know what the Death Eaters
already know. It's the how that is critical, and that I can
not discuss."

"Very well." Bill laughed again. "Funny, you alternate
between Slytherin, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

Carvyn sighed. "No, this is what a Slytherin is supposed to
be. Voldemort and the Death Eaters have tainted the whole
house."

Harry had come over. "Carvyn, no one can thank you enough
for that." Harry looked a little awkward.

"Bill, would you excuse us for a moment. Harry needs to be
straightened out, although I think Ginny did that for him in
more ways than one." Bill's eyes popped wide at the double
pun, and grinning he went back to his family.

He and Harry sat in a corner. "Harry, I know about Ginny. I
have known about Ginny since you exited the Gryffindor
common room with her after that Quidditch game." Harry
gaped, turning just a bit red. "Yes, it was hard. But you
have to realize that when you think about it, our peak
attraction was always the aftermath of a crisis. Who knows
what you actually felt for me during a time of choice and
relaxation? Like when you visited me at my house - you know
then that it wasn't the same."

"I thought it was me. You seemed completely normal and at
ease."

"It was both of us. I am very very good at covering up,
Harry. Like it or not, you aren't when it comes to personal
stuff."

They were quiet for a few moments. Then Harry asked,
somewhat hesitantly, "Now what?"

"Isn't it obvious? This isn't some big huge lover's quarrel.
We have found out what our friendship truly means. I'm sore,
but not hurt. You are soaring. Ginny is soaring." He let
that sink in. "Now we take advantage of Voldemort's
confidence in Dumbledore's death. I defeat him, you kill
him. After that, then the whole world is different."

"You are still in on that?"

Carvyn snorted. "Of course! Why would you ever doubt it?"
His voice raised a bit and carried through the room. "Harry,
I still love you! That isn't going to change! You and Ginny
are together, but that isn't going to stop our friendship!"
Then a little softer, "Snap out of it! We've got a job to
do."

Harry just stared at him. Carvyn knew he needed to be cut
loose. "Besides, just between us, I found that I can be the
most incredibly vicious top with the right bottom at my
service." And he leered somewhat evilly.

Harry's eyes popped wide open. "Who?"

"Why?"

"Just tell me."

"Will you tell anyone else?"

"No."

"Good, because we actually seem to have started something
that might survive tonight."

"WHO!?"

"Malfoy." Before Harry could react, Carvyn grabbed him. "He
didn't do it tonight. They backed him into a corner and
tricked him into it. He is as miserable as anyone is over
this, because he couldn't stop it. He had even told
Dumbledore, who had told him to let it happen. He has been
as used as anyone."

Harry shook himself. Snape was going to be dead meat. They
got up, Carvyn gave him a big hug, and then they rejoined
everyone else. They had tears in their eyes, and while they
all were sharing their joy with Harry and Ginny, Bill looked
up and noticed the sweep of a dark green robe slip up an
alcove and away. Carvyn had vanished again. Bill shook his
head ruefully.

Harry then noticed that Carvyn had vanished again. He knew
it wasn't that easy. Someday Harry would have to make it up
to him. but he had no idea how. He fixed that thought in his
mind: Once Voldemort was finished, Harry would find a way to
express his trust, gratitude and admiration.

Ten Years Later ..

The Minister of Magic sat behind his desk in the Ministry.
He was reading a letter from the Headmistress of Hogwarts,
countersigned by its Board of Governors. It indicated that
Minerva McGonagall would like to retire as Headmistress and
resume her Transfigurations position, and that after full
internal discussion amongst the faculty and the Board of
Governors, none of the current faculty felt able to assume
the role. This letter requested a new and vigorous
Headmaster to be appointed by the Minister of Magic.

Harry sat back in his desk, considering the letter. Since
the finishing off of Voldermort, which had gone very much to
plan, amazingly, Harry had graduated Hogwarts, entered the
Auror training, and very quickly became the best Auror the
Ministry had. Two years later, he was promoted to Head of
the Auror Department, and three years ago elected Minister
of Magic. Surprisingly, Harry liked it. He was finally in a
position to effect change, repair the wizarding world, and
still inspire a little fear and respect in people. He wasn't
The Boy Who Lived anymore. He was the Saviour from the Dark
Lord.

He put the letter aside for later consideration. The last
two documents were from the Department of International
Magical Cooperation. The first was a notification of the
recovery of dragon eggs that had been smuggled into England.
Nasty things, those. Harry remembered Hagrid's experience,
and chuckled lightly. He signed the acknowledgement, and
picked up the last.

This one was more curious. Two pages. The cover letter
contained a formal penned statement of completion. As he
read it, he recalled the situation: two of the remaining
Death Eaters had kidnapped several Muggle children and taken
them out of the country. It had been several weeks ago,
although the Scotland Yard liaison sent owls every other
day. Harry had appealed to the neighboring countries to aid
in the search. The letter stated that the children had been
found in France and returned to their parents last night,
safe and unharmed. The Death Eaters had been killed in the
struggle. The French had put their top person on this case,
and had attached a copy of his personal report.

Harry glanced at the second page. On exquisite parchment
with a very subtle border of what could have been a snake, a
perfect script outlined the capture of the children and
their captors in the underground of Paris. The French had
put their top person on it all right, thought Harry. As he
made it through the recovery and the battle, he learned of
the two Death Eater's names. They had been major problems
before. He skimmed down the bottom and caught his breath at
the closing:

     It is with great pleasure that we are able to return
these child victims to their original
     And true parents. There is no loss for the two
criminals in their demise.
     Most accurate and true, hereby testified and
undersigned,
     Le Marquis Carvyn de Sernin, Investigateur Principal

Carvyn. Harry had not thought of Carvyn in years. Together,
they had finished Voldemort. Or more accurately, Carvyn had
used common sense to locate all but two of the remaining
Horcruxes, and he destroyed them. The last two were actually
at Sirius' house at Grimmauld Place, where they had been
collected by Sirius' brother, Regulus Black. Those had been
wiped out. The last bits were indeed in Voldemort's body
itself, and in the giant snake, Nagini.

Nagini had been both a challenge and and terribly dangerous.
While the other bits of soul were locked in objects, Nagini
had represented to Carvyn the ultimate attempt. Fortunately,
from his healing experience with Bill, Carvyn had apparently
known what to expect. He had had to filter the bit of soul
out of the huge snake, restore the snake to its natural
self, and then kill it. It was one of the few times that
Carvyn had let loose an incredible amount of conventional
magic as Voldemort and the other Death Eaters finally
realized that their reign of terror was on the precipice of
extinction. With the snake gone, the soul destroyed, Carvyn
had staggered back to Harry in the ruins and told him it was
his turn now. Harry had summoned all his motivation, all his
anger and fury, all his hurt at all the friends he and
others had lost, and used the Avada Kedavra. And Tom Marvolo
Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort, was suddenly no more.

He and Carvyn had returned to the Burrow. The Weasleys took
one look at the two of them and suddenly knew that they had
done it. Once again, within minutes half the Ministry was at
the Burrow to hear and go over what had taken place, to
rejoice and spread the news, and to congratulate the Chosen
One on his task.

Harry had once again turned to find Carvyn, but he had
vanished. Much later Bill had told him that Carvyn had come
over to him, told him that it was finally over, and someday
he would talk about it. The two of them had Apparated back
to Carvyn's house in Kerinou. Bill had stayed long enough to
see that Winky would take care of him, and then Apparated
back.

Harry had not seen Carvyn since that day. Carvyn had not
returned to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had told Harry
privately that Carvyn had come in over the summer, took his
NEWTs, scored Outstanding on all of them, and then had left.
He had taken Draco Malfoy, whose entire family and assets
had been destroyed, back to France to recover. Harry and
Ginny had gotten married, and then there were the kids, and
the Auror training, and . now he was Minister of Magic.

His eyes drifted to the letter from Hogwarts.

Harry blinked.

It couldn't be that easy.

But the idea took root and flowered in Harry's mind. Carvyn
had been an excellent teacher. Carvyn knew Hogwarts inside
and out. Former Head Boy. Revolutionary skills. Somehow, he
would make Carvyn Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Later that night, he introduced the idea to his wife. Ginny
was all for it. The problem was getting him to do it. Ginny
finally made the ultimate suggestion.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"How? `The Minister of Magic, England summons you to his
office for -"

"Not that way! Invite him over for dinner. I'll cook, he can
meet the kids, and when he is totally disarmed you can hit
him with it."

"He is bound to be suspicious."

"Can you handle him or not?"

Harry thought on that. "I don't think so; I never had much
success in the past."

After much discussion, little James spoke up. "Why don't you
send him an owl?"

Ginny and Harry looked at each other. Of course, that would
do it. "I'll send Hedwig myself." And shortly Hedwig was en
route to the stone house in the chill misty air of Kerinou.

The Marquis Carvyn de Sernin had just finished his own
dinner. The peace and tranquility of his house pervaded him,
and while he was alone he didn't feel alone. He reflected on
the recent case with England and the kidnapped children.
That had been one of his better outcomes. The children had
been starved and dehydrated, but bounced back very well
under proper care. The perpetrators had the unlikely
misfortune of thinking they could out-duel Carvyn together.

Without question, he was the best. L'Investigateur Principal
was his title. He had earned that title through his last
four years of investigative work for individuals and
organizations. Representing a synthesis of the best of the
Muggle world and the Wizarding world, he accepted contracts
to recover or find lost and stolen items of value.
Occasionally his own ministry would be involved, as was this
last one, and he had never let them down.

Carvyn had done his NEWTs shortly after the demise of
Voldemort. He had already decided not to return to Hogwarts,
mostly because of Harry. Instead, he finished his program at
Beauxbatons in one term, and then one term at Durmstrang. It
was at Durmstrang that he got his first real job: Deputy
Headmaster and Potions Instructor. That had gone on for two
years until they had repaired their faculty and reputation.
Apparently the head of Durmstrang talked to Madame Maxime,
and thus his next job was Deputy Headmaster of Beauxbatons,
where he taught music and Potions.

He was thinking back on the days at Beauxbatons when there
was a tapping at the window. He rose to admit a snowy white
owl into the room, who then delivered the note. Carvyn
looked at the owl closely.

"Hedwig? Is that you? My, but you are in fine shape." Hedwig
respectfully nibbled on his finger until he fed her.

He opened the note, which was on plain parchment, penned by
hand:

     Greetings Carvyn!
     I know that it has been many years since we have been
together, but something crossed my desk
     Today that I would like very much to discuss with you.
Ginny has suggested that dinner would be
     In order as well, to give you a chance to meet the
kids. Don't dress formally or they will ruin you!
     Harry

Carvyn took out a piece of parchment. He knew that Harry had
made Minister of Magic. He also knew that he was doing an
excellent job of it. Carvyn had spent more time invisible to
the public. The date and time were good - namely, tomorrow
evening. Yes, he would go. Maybe it was time to return to
England for a while. He was getting very tired and down
about the investigative work. Most cases were very
traumatic. He quickly penned an acceptance and sent Hedwig
back on her return trip. Yes, if Harry offered him a
position in the Ministry he would very seriously consider
it.

Several months later ..

The new Headmaster of Hogwarts, having finally Sorted all
the new students, including a handful of Weasleys, walked up
to the podium. He called for quiet, and surveyed the crowded
students.

"So much has changed, since I was in your chair," Carvyn
addressed them. "But in honor of the finest Headmaster
Hogwarts has ever known, let me quote Albus Dumbledore:
Nitwit! Blubber! Oddiment! Tweak!"

A nervous round of laughter from the students. Yes, thought
Carvyn, this is where I belong.

NOTES:

"The Ashoken Farewell/Contradiction" and "The Butterfly"
that inspired this character can be found on the "Celtic
Woman" CD.

The Fantasia and Fugue on `Ad Nos, Ad Salutarum Undam' by
Franz Liszt for organ that inspired this character can be
found on "Soli Deo Gloria", recorded by the famous organist
Virgil Fox in 1979. And yes, the C major chord is on page
49.

And oh yes, pardon my French.