Natural Singularity

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? How did I get here? Must have been 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.