This work is a parody of J.K Rowling's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and it is not endorsed by either J.K. Rowling or her publishers. As a parody, this work is protected under the Fair Use Doctrine.

The characterizations in this work deviate significantly from the original, and this does not imply these characterizations exist in the original work. The author received no financial compensation or endorsements for the production of this work.

All characters in this story are fictional. This story depicts sexual acts between consenting minor males. This story is meant for entertainment purposes only and in no way reflects reality. Please be aware of local laws or ordinances that may prohibit the reading of such material.

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Harry Potter and the Loo of Desire

(A Parody)

Chapter 19: The Pooch That Took It Up the Bum

When the effects of the fire water wore off, Harry fell apart. Even threats from Professor Dumbledore could not make headway with Harry. He finally got released to the care of Madam Pomfrey and Neville who, once he found Harry, would not leave his side. In the infirmary, the head healer knocked him out cold. Harry drifted through a dreamless dark void for what seemed like years. However, it did nothing to soothe his battered emotions or spirit. He did not feel rested either when he woke.

"Harry?" Neville gently said his name.

"I can still see his face, Neville. His eyes... no life in them. Why? Why did he run out from hiding? What was he thinking?" Harry blankly stated as sunlight spread throughout the infirmary from the high, arched windows.

"I don't know, but Ass Cleft was brave. He might've thought you were in danger," his boyfriend responded.

Harry rolled over, buried is face in Neville's lap, and let the grief pour through him yet again. He still could not fully accept Ass Cleft's death, especially under the conditions in which it happened. As he wept, Neville stroked his hair and spoke comforting, loving words. Harry knew he would be completely lost without the steady, sure presence of the quiet teenager who held him. Madam Pomfrey seemed to understand that Neville did more for Harry than any medicine. The woman expertly healed his arm and only a faint light line remained where Wormdick sliced him open. Even the minor cuts and nicks got repaired. Yet Pomfrey could not reach inside of Harry and dispel the agony he felt. Neville could. She let them be and never complained about the fact Neville pushed two beds together and lashed them tight. It became an oasis for Harry.

In the middle of the second day of Harry's stay in the infirmary, he received two visitors. Diktor Kum and Foul DelaCunt called on him. They said both schools planned on departing that afternoon, and neither could leave without checking in on him first. Foul stood by the foot of his bed, and Diktor by the head.

"It is a terrible thing what happened to Ass Cleft, no?" Foul quietly and, for her, gently raised the issue. "'Ee was a brave boy like you, `Arry."

"Yeah, he was. Thanks for noticing," Harry replied and ignored the look she threw at him. "Do either of you know why he ran out like that?"

"No," Diktor rumbled.

Foul shook her head from side to side.

"I suppose I should thank you for saving me after seeing what `Ee-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked did to you and Ass Cleft," the young woman stated in a flat manner.

"You're welcome, Foul. Even though you weren't very nice to me the whole time, I couldn't let Holdequart kill you as well," Harry thanked her and explained.

"What do you mean I was not nice to you? Sacre bleu, `Arree! I am always nice to you, you spoiled little boy! It is rude of you, yes. Very rude to say zese to me! After all we go through together you think I am not nice!"

Foul ranted and stomped her feet several times before she whirled around and stormed out of the infirmary. Harry found it within him to find it humorous. He guessed she found making farewells difficult and masked it with feigned anger. A glance at Diktor revealed the young man smirking in a knowing fashion as he stared at the door through which Foul departed. The Bulgarian glanced down at him.

"She likes you, Harry," he said in his heavy accent. "I am thinking she maybe admires you."

"I wouldn't go that far," Harry demurred, but he meant it.

Diktor then sat on the edge of his bed, and took one Harry's hands between his. The famed fappitch player squeezed it. His dark eyes seemed troubled.

"You are brother to me now, Harry Potter," Diktor said with a catch in his voice. "I live because you showed no fear."

"I was scared to death, Diktor. I thought I was going to die every second. After what he did to Ced..." and Harry could not finish.

Diktor squeezed his hand again. Harry saw tears roll out of the stunningly dark eyes that always seemed so mysterious. Cedric's death clearly affected the brawny teenager just as deeply. It seemed a bond between them because both claimed Cedric Diggory as a friend.

"Do not lose touch with me. You are in my family, and I have love for you as for all blood. My home, my table... my heart is always open to you, Harry. You are bravest person I ever know, and I will know you all my life," the Bulgarian told him with tremendous intensity.

"I love you, too, Diktor. I'll keep in touch. I swear. You... you were there. You know. I will never forget you," Harry replied as more tears streaked down his face.

Diktor leaned over, took the younger wizard's face in his hands, and gently touched his lips to Harry's. While not as passionate a kiss as he would share with Neville, Harry felt something very deep and meaningful in the gesture. He kissed the stalwart teenager in return. After a quarter of a minute, Diktor leaned back. He nodded his head. Harry's bobbed as well. They both then glanced at Neville who wore an expression Harry never saw on his boyfriend's face. Diktor stood and walked around to the other side of the double-bed occupied by Neville. The Bulgarian took Neville's face in his hands and kissed him for a few seconds. When he straightened, Harry watched the two regard each other.

"He loves you like nobody I ever know," Diktor told Neville. "I think you love him in same way. This is good. Always be good to him. Harry is my brother. I tell you as promise: hurt him and I will break every bone in your body. I will not kill you, but you will have pain all your days. Keep him safe for us, you and me. Da?"

Neville's head bobbed up and down. Harry saw tremendous uncertainty on Neville's face, and it seemed reasonable. Harry did not doubt for a moment Diktor meant what he said. Diktor walked to the end of the bed. He stood gazing at the two.

"I think now we need all those we can trust. This Dork Lord is not done. He will do more, and many will suffer. I worry for you, Harry, and... and maybe not as much as I think. There is something in you He-Who-Must... Holdequart takes scare from. Never stop fighting him, Harry. Never!" Diktor fiercely said and slam a fist into an open hand.

"Not after this. Not after Cedric. I'll do everything I can to stop him!" Harry vowed.

"Me, too," Neville said in such a quiet voice it carried more weight than if he shouted. "He's hurt the people I love, and Holdequart must pay."

Diktor's head moved up and down once. Without another word he turned and walked away. His boot heals tapped out a sharp report. Harry and Neville watched him depart in silence. When the large door closed, they turned to each other.

"You really are going to fight him, aren't you?" Neville queried in a worried voice.

"I don't have a choice. He'll come after me, Neville. I think Diktor is right: there's something about me that frightens him. Holdequart's been trying to kill me since I was baby, and I can't think of any reason why he'd stop now," Harry replied.

"Harry, when I said he hurt the people I love..."

"I know, Neville," he interjected. "I've known for a while what he did to you father and mother and their husband and wife. I think that makes what he did to you worse than what he did to me. My parents aren't suffering."

Neville nodded as his eyes filled with water.

"That's why I know you're serious as well. Maybe it's not fair it became our job, but we need to avenge those people he hurt and killed. We need to stop him. If we don't, who will?"

It seemed preposterous two teenaged boys made a vow to take down one of the most powerful dark wizards the western world ever encountered. Harry knew Holdequart acted out of malice he felt for anyone who did not endure a physical malformation like his. The insane man saw it as both his duty and right to inflict that on others. Any who stood in his way Holdequart saw as disposable. He ordered Cedric's death without even knowing the young man. Harry heard stories from others at Snogwarts regarding Holdequart's indifference to the suffering of others, a warped malice toward everyone, but seeing him casually murder people, the woman named Becky and Ass Cleft in particular, simply hardened Harry's resolve to end the reign of terror once and for all.

At the following Friday evening meal in the great hall, an unusual subdued hush filled the enormous space. People only whispered to one another when they spoke. Even the ghosts appeared nervous. Harry could not imagine why as he sat surrounded by his friends who seemed to think they could build a wall of people around him to keep him safe. Futile as the gesture might be, he appreciated it all the more. When the main course disappeared and the desserts took their place, Dumbledore strolled up to the lectern. It seemed to be the moment for which everyone waited.

"Well, wasn't that an interesting Bi-Wizard Tournament. No winner and only one dead. Not bad, I'd say," the elderly man callously said through a grin. The Hufflepuff table started to boo him. "Don't take it out on me, take it out on Potter. He seems to be the only one here who knows what happened to Diggory."

The flagrant lie inspired more boos and hissing. Everyone knew what took place since Diktor and Foul told the exact same story as Harry. Only Dumbledore doubted The Dork Lord returned. Barty Crouch and Goo-eye Moody returned to Ministry of Magic after taking the report from the three surviving tournament champions. Everyone except the headmaster started preparing for the worst. Even when Goo-eye returned to finish his teaching duties, Dumbledore continued to insist Lord Holdequart did not return. At the moment he eyed a clearly hostile student body.

"Put a cork in it, all of you!" Dumbledore yelled and aimed his wand in a sweeping arc across the room. "Forget all that Holdequart nonsense. You've still got final exams to finish. Fifth years will take their OWLs and seventh years their NEWTs."

A groan went through the student body, and the teaching staff.

"What? You thought one dead kid was going to give you a break? I think not, you little cretins. In my day a quarter of the students would be killed before end of the year, and we always took our exams!"

"You liar!" Someone shouted.

"Right! Right! When I find out who said that you'll be out on your ass... expelled from this school!" Dumbledore shouted and waved his wand around some more.

Most students ducked under the tables, and no one came forward to claim the remark. At that point Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape dragged Professor Dumbledore away from the podium before he did set magic loose. They did not stop there. The two professors hauled the headmaster out of the Great Hall through the faculty entrance. The man could be heard swearing behind the door.

"What a prat," Hermione grumbled. "How can he not believe three eye witnesses?"

"He doesn't want to because it didn't fit in with his plan. Nobody's talking about the tournament `cept for Cedric's death, and he's not getting any glory or infamy," Neville opined, although the theory originated from three days of conversation with Harry.

Harry leaned against the teenager, and a faint golden sheen surrounded them.

"If you start to fuck under the table before I finished my pudding, I will smash you with one of those trays," Hermione warned them and pointed to the heavy serving platter.

"So what do we do now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked is back?" Séamus inquired while everyone slid away from Hermione.

"We fight. We resist. It doesn't matter how small the effort, we don't give in to what Holdequart wants... and that's death and destruction and control. We deny him that with everything we've got," Harry in such a commanding and serious tone he even surprised himself.

"What about those of us with muggles to look after?" Hermione inquired and the fact she sounded worried made people turn to stare at her.

Harry gazed at her and realized she spoke not only for herself, but for him, Séamus also perked up since his father also fell into that category. Harry took a deep breath and said: "I don't know. Same plan, I guess. I'll tell my aunt and uncle, but they probably won't believe me or care `til it effects them personally. We keep them safe as best we can."

"You're going to protect the Dursleys?" Ron ask with a hefty amount of incredulity.

"I may not like them. They may treat me terribly, but they don't deserve to suffer at Holdequart's hands. No one does... except maybe those who joined him."

"How are we going to get around the age restriction and secrecy rules?" Dean brought up a very relevant point. He then crammed a ludicrous amount of treacle into his mouth.

Harry sat back for a moment and thought. Around him he heard similar discussions taking place. Their headmaster doubted the return of his old nemesis, but most others seemed to be taking the news with all due seriousness. The fact The Daily Profit carried headlines announcing Holdequart's return in every issue for three days seemed a good start. However, Dean's question continued to loom over him.

"Maybe once people start to disappear and die like they did the last time Holdequart tried to take over, they may not care so much about those. They're going to need every mage who's willing to stand up and fight," Harry answered after a lengthy pause. "Don't know about the secrecy act, though. Books in the library say thousands of muggles went missing out of London alone, and no one ever got an accurate count for the whole country. I couldn't find any information about how the Ministry dealt with the muggle issue."

"Mate, you're having a bad influence on Harry what with him spending time on his own in the library," Ron teased Neville.

After seeing the way Neville took care of the emotionally, physically, and psychologically distraught Harry, the true depth of their relationship could not be denied. Ron told Harry he got over his jealousy and would not make any attempts to insert himself into their relationship. He told his friend that while sitting between Harry and Neville on Neville's bed. Ron happened to be naked as well. Despite that, Harry took him at his word. He knew he would need his close friends in the years to come.

"I mostly go there to mess with the shushers," Harry stated. "Did you know some of them are really old. I think they've been in the library since they were students!"

It came as relief to Harry to talk and think about a topic other than Lord Holdequart. He did not tell his friends, not even Neville, that the scar on his penis never stopped hurting since he returned from the cemetery. Most often it felt like a dull throb. At times, however, it flared into a stinging agony. The few times he reacted to it, he told Neville he just experienced a flashback. Harry knew the pain to be important, that it told him something about Lord Holdequart he needed to decipher. Thus, when they switched subjects, it became easier to ignore the troubling sensation.

Less than a month remained of classes before the final examinations began. Professor Dumbledore refused to relent regarding his decree. Hence, teachers began to focus on the impending tests and wrapping up studies. Life at Snogwarts resumed a normal tempo on the surface. Tension did not lie far below that. Dumbledore often reacted very poorly whenever he caught students or faculty talking about Lord Holdequart. It remained regular topic since the wizarding news services covered it extensively. A massive theft at Madame de Froughfrough's Luxury Boutique and Haberdashery appeared to signal the start of Holdequart's activities. A Dungmark appeared on a wall created from human feces. Thus, instruction became somewhat uneven as news reports surfaced.

On the Friday evening after the last day of regular classes ended, the common room of the Gryffindor tower filled with mentally whipped students. Harry, Neville, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dean, and Séamus occupied one of the larger tables after Hermione scared everyone away from it. They sat around it acting and looking exhausted.

"Well, at least we get to go to Snogmeades tomorrow if we want," Séamus repeated the privilege extended by the house masters.

"My mum said Bill says they're turning the place into a fort," Ron told them. He began receiving regular missives from his mother, sometimes with a cheery note form his father, containing massive lists of instructions to keep himself safe. Ron typically ignored all the warnings.

"I'm going," Harry announced. "I need to get out the castle for a while. The place is starting to drive me batty. Dumbledore is really losing his marbles over Holdequart's return.

His friends only mildly flinched when he used the proper name of the dark wizard.

"Fred and George are making a supply run for their experiments before the Ministry starts to ration everything," Ron rumbled, and all eyes turned to him. "It's one of my mum's theories."

"He-Who... Holdequart hasn't really done much now, has he? It's just been that one robbery. Unless there's a shortage of unisex clothes, why would they start rationing?" Hermione pressed the point.

"Mum's not making much sense since the news broke. She was involved in something back the first time Hol... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked got going. She knew Harry's mum and blood dad, and I think she knew Neville's, too. She won't say exactly how or why. I think I'll learn more when the summer break gets started," Ron testily replied, and Harry knew his best male friend worried about his mother.

"Any word from Charlie or Bill?" Harry tried to sound as nonchalant as he could while asking the question.

"Dad said they're doing okay, but nothing else."

"Ron, do you think maybe they're being careful about what they write to you?" Neville inquired. "My gran's letters got really short once I told her what happened to Harry and about... him."

"So did my dad's," Dean added and frowned. "Think our posts are being read?"

In his pocket Harry carried a long message from his godfather, his late father's actual husband, Sirius Black. In it he warned Harry to be cautious about anything he wrote in letters since one of the first attacks The Dork Lord made came in the form infiltrating message owl aviaries. It gave Holdequart early access to a motherlode of information he could use against people to pressure them into his service. As a result, Harry began to only send banal and pleasant messages to those with whom he exchanged notes, including Diktor Kum. He warned Kum about keeping sensitive details out of messages. Kum responded by saying the weather turned pleasant around the Spurmstung Institute. Only Neville knew with whom Harry made regular contact.

"Well, according to The Complete and Unabridged and Very Accurate and Wholly True Account and History of the First and Last Dork Lord War by Brunhilde Buttwipe," Hermione recited the book title and author as if everyone knew it, "it says he got in pretty deep at the Ministry. It's probably safe to assume he's going to try the same tricks the second time around... at least what worked the first time. If more than one person thinks The Dork Lord is reading messages, they might be right."

A rumble of agreement circulated around the table.

"So what can we do to help?" Séamus threw out a general question.

"Keep our eyes and ears open," Neville suggested.

"Right. You know half the sires and dams of the Slytherins were... are Dungeaters," Ron intoned, reigniting a dormant hostility toward their rival house.

"I know at least twelve Dungeaters arrived when Holdequart sent up the Dungmark. There's likely more who were afraid to come out of hiding thinking it was a trap or something of the sort," Harry added, and for once he did not mind in the least the terrific amount of animus Ron could randomly generate toward those who wore green and silver.

"He has an army already then?" Dean inquired with a hint of fear in his voice.

Harry slowly nodded his head and replied: "But we don't know how big it is. Holdequart might be starting from just about scratch..."

"But he works fast," Hermione interjected and glanced at everyone around the table. "Brunhilde Buttwipe said he went traveling for almost thirty years, and when he came back to England, he put together his followers in a little under two years. If Holdequart has any followers left, then he has a head start."

"Then the war started, hasn't it?" Neville rhetorically asked.

All eyes turned to Harry. Harry sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and returned their concerned gazes. He cleared his throat and said: "No, you're wrong about that. I don't think his first war ever ended. For some reason he waited until I started to come to school here at Snogwarts to reappear. Who knows how long he lived inside of Quirrell? This all just seemed too planned, like he knew the tournament gave him an opportunity."

"Then someone inside of Snogwarts must be helping him," Neville intoned in a low tone. "There's a traitor in this castle. There's someone who's worked with Ho... Holdequart before. How else could Harry's name have gotten into the loo?"

A serious disquiet settled over the group of friends. In his mind only one name rose to the top of the possible spy list: Severus Snape. Everyone knew he used to be a Dungeater because everyone saw the Dungmark on his arm each time he passed out in class. Moreover, none of the other faculty besides Professor Dumbledore disliked Harry with such intensity. Snape seemed to hold a grudge against Harry for some past wrong he unwittingly committed, and it seemed reasonable his childhood defeat of The Dork Lord served as the cause.

Even half a day spent in Snogsmeade did not dispel troubling thoughts growing in Harry's head. It seemed Bill's report to Ron proved correct. Most of the buildings, houses, and shops added extra fortification. Heavy iron bars covered windows and gleamed with protection spells. Doors looked stout enough to serve in Gringott's vaults. Fred and George went on a spending spree the likes of which none of other students ever witnessed. When pressed for an answer as to where they got the money, the twins reminded everyone they ran a covert black market in Snogwarts for over five years and accrued a sizable fortune without anyone discovering the actual amount. Only Harry, Hermione, and Ron knew how they got the goods back into Snogwarts.

On Sunday evening before the start of exams, Harry lay next to Neville in bed. Séamus, thanks to the potion provided by Madam Promfrey, slept like the dead. Ron and Dean headed out to see Fred and George's latest products. Thus, the quiet in the dorm room enveloped the boyfriends.

"Harry, what's bothering you?" Neville prodded him. "You've been locked up in your own head since we got back from Snogsmeade yesterday."

Harry turned and studied the face that often filled his dreams. The gray-blue eyes brimming with worry made his heart flutter. Under the covers, where naked bodies touched one another, he sought out Neville's hand.

"Harry?" His boyfriend implored him.

"Promise me you'll tell no one what I'm about to tell you," he sternly made the request.

"You know..."

"I need you to swear it, Neville. This... please, swear to me if you love me," Harry begged.

"I swear, Harry. I swear on my life I will guard whatever you tell me."

Harry squeezed the hand in thanks and said: "I'm physically linked to Holdequart."

Neville sat upright with a horrified expression on his face.

"The scar on my head," and the troubled boy wizard glanced down at his crotch, "it hurts all the time now. Sometimes it's so painful I almost can't breathe."

"I knew it!" Neville growled. "I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't figure it out. I could see the pain on your face. Why didn't you tell me, Harry?"

"'Cause I didn't want you to think I was mad... or cursed... or somehow like him."

Harry's mouth got crushed by Neville's. Light shown between them. Harry closed his arms around the teenager he loved beyond any doubt and almost beyond reason. He felt his body respond. Neville kept their mouths together until passion caused Harry to relax a small amount or at least become tense from a completely different cause. Only then did his boyfriend release him.

"I -- would -- never -- think -- that," Neville enunciated each word and tinged each one with a hint of anger. "I know you, Harry Potter. Maybe I don't know all the details of your life, but I know what's in here."

The now lanky young man pressed a palm against Harry's chest right above the heart. Between all the work Neville did for Madam Sprout and the very vigorous sex he engaged in with Harry, his body became even more toned. Harry saw the abject lust on Ron, Dean, and Séamus' faces whenever they caught a glimpse of Neville naked. Of course, Harry also stared at Neville in the same manner. Hence, any physical contact between them, no matter how casual, tended to drive Harry's mind in a certain direction. His heart beat faster as a result.

"Everyone who really knows you would trust you with their lives. Don't ever doubt yourself like that again. I can't stand it because I know it's not true!"

"I love you, Neville Longbottom," Harry said in a quavering voice as two tears edged out of his eyes.

Neville brushed them away and replied: "I know you do, and you better remember how much I love you, Harry."

Harry nodded his head. It seemed a weight got lifted from his shoulders. With each passing week Harry found it a burden to keep anything secret from his boyfriend. While the spell he learned to minimize how much he talked in his sleep helped, he continued to fret over certain aspects he could not properly relay to Neville. The death of Cedric Diggory haunted him. He struggled to find a reason why his friend acted as he did and got killed for the effort. Answers never availed themselves to Harry. Thus, the removal of one worry from his mind became a boon.

"Now you need to make me a promise, Harry," Neville quietly demanded.

Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

"You need to promise me you won't do anything alone... on your own. You need to swear that you know people will help you however they can. Don't think you're alone in any of this, Harry. Swear that to me!"

"I swear to you, Neville, I know I am not alone," he said while gazing at the young man.

"And the other parts?"

"I can't."

Neville's face fell.

"Neville, what you're asking... it's not just about me. You want me to put people lives in danger, and I can't do that. Cedric already got killed, and Diktor and Foul came close," Harry explained. "But I can swear that I will ask for help if I need it and it's not too risky."

"That's not good enough for me, Harry. I've never really asked you for anything serious, but I am asking you for this. I need to know you won't go slipping off in the night to face The Dork Lord on your own!" Neville demanded anew.

People sometimes thought of Neville as soft, even some who knew him, but they never witnessed the iron will he could produce at times. Harry confronted it in that moment. He knew without being told Neville would not be satisfied with any answer other than the one he wanted. Harry felt himself break against that steel resolve.

"I swear I won't go up against Holdequart alone if I can help it," he said and hoped Neville would accept that.

"Harry!"

"Neville, please don't do this to me," he begged and hung his head down. "I can't face what's coming knowing I might get everyone I love killed. Too many people already got taken from me. You can't ask me to let more die."

It seemed to take forever before Neville's hand lifted his chin. Tears streamed down Harry's cheeks as he imagined those he cared most about in the world getting killed one by one. Holdequart could crush him using that means. What Neville demanded of him seemed to make it a certainty.

"I accept your vow, Harry," his boyfriend gently affirmed.

"Thank you," Harry heaved out the words in a sob.

Neville folded Harry into an embrace. Once more he became the rock onto which the young marked wizard clung in the growing storm. Harry could feel the storm coming like a great typhoon off in the distance and only the first winds lapped the shores. While it could not be seen, the effects already began to take hold. With greater surety Harry believed Lord Holdequart did nothing more than pick up where he left off the day Harry unwittingly thwarted him. The lull in the terrible wizarding war ended, and again Harry felt he got stuck in the middle of it.

The week of examinations commenced like some nasty punishment conceived by the headmaster. In each class his teachers pushed the limit of what Harry could remember. A year filled with the turmoil of the Bi-Wizard Tournament caused more disruption in Harry's education than he realized. He faced tests that exposed gaps in his knowledge. He struggled in each examination. Even worse, he became convinced he failed both Potions and Transfiguration. If his fears turned out to be correct, it would alter his next year at Snogwarts beyond recognition.

The end of the year feast commenced, and Professor Dumbledore did not make a showing. The students felt they got rewarded for surviving the examinations, Harry most of all since he could not imagine what new terrifying lunacy would spring from the man. Professor McGonagall, as deputy headmistress, exhorted them to be cautious over the summer break, to at least think about cracking open a book or two, and a stern reminder to all under-age witches and wizards to avoid using serious magic outside of school. The elderly woman's piercing voice reiterated the point several times. It seemed an omen to Harry. Everyone appeared nervous by the time she finished.

"What was all that nonsense `bout not doing magic?" Ron complained as he tossed his belonging into his trunk without any sort of order later that evening.

"Don't you think about anything?" Hermione asked from where she lounged on Harry's bed.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! How'd you get in here again? Girls aren't allowed in boy's dorms!"

All the roommates save Harry turned and looked at her. He saw her sneak in and crawl to his bed. She once again demonstrated he capability as the most competent witch of their year.

"The same way they got Harry's name in the magic loo: I piggy-backed on someone," she told them. "There's just enough of delay when one of you enters to let someone slip in. I'm going to tell McGonagall and Felch about it before I leave."

"You're a bleeding menace, know that?" Ron rumbled at her as he chucked more unwashed clothing into the trunk.

Hermione laughed in such a way it scared them all.

"I take it you're already packed?" Harry asked her and wanted to talk about something normal.

"Finished this morning," she answered and cast a disapproving eye at the way her male counterparts stored their belongings. "Neville seems to be the only one doing it right."

"My gran would box my ears if I brought home a messy trunk," Neville stated and turned a bit pink in embarrassment. He carefully folded his clothing and laid it into his footlocker.

"She's doing you a favor you know?" Hermione encouraged him as she twiddled with her wand. "When Harry needs to find his summer reading list, he's going to have to empty the entire trunk. Same with the rest of them."

"You know you could mind you're own business," Séamus sniped at her.

"You know I could pull your arm out of your socket," she retorted and glowered at the Irish boy.

Séamus busied himself with dumping an armload of his items into the awaiting luggage. It tumbled and fell what sound like three meters. Most of their trunks got magicked to hold far more than a muggle one. He heard a rumor from Parvati Patil that Hermione's trunk actually contained a ladder.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Harry said in a tired voice. "Don't we have enough to worry about without fighting with each other?"

"Yeah, I suppose," she noncommittally rejoined. "What you got planned for the summer, Harry?"

"Trying to figure out a way to meet with Neville as much as I can. My aunt and uncle don't like me to leave the house during the summer. They're afraid the neighbors might see me and figure out I'm a wizard," he glumly replied.

"Stupid gits," Ron mumbled. "We're going off for a few weeks to see Charlie in Romania where's he studying dragons again. Might even feed Percy to one. Should be fun."

His roommates and the interloper all laughed. Harry suspected Ron would try to convince his dual sets of parents to make a stop in Bulgaria. He considered sending Diktor a note asking him to see Ron at least once. Ron spent two weeks after the departure of the Spurmstungs from Snogwarts moping around in such a bad mood no one went near him for the duration. Harry heard him crying on several nights. His heart went out to his best mate. He, himself, faced a similar prospect of separation during the summer months.

"We're heading to Skye to see the druid council," Dean told them in a chipper voice. "Got to sit a ways back from what I hear when the battles get going over interpreting the stars. Seems to be a kind of fuzzy practice."

"The centaurs are good at reading the stars," Hermione said, "but I wouldn't mind seeing the druid battles. I hear they can be pretty instructive about dueling."

"Didn't think about that," Dean mumbled, and Hermione snorted in annoyance.

"Me and Dad are heading out to see Mum," Séamus stated. "Ever since she got accepted in the Kilkarney Coven, she's and her missus aren't home much anymore. It's just Dad and his man rambling around the place."

"Beautiful country out there," Neville piped up. "My gran and me went out there two summers ago. We climbed the Loch Lee steps. Did you know there's a tame troll at the top who'll smash a rock for you if you give him a sickle?"

"Oh, dad and Pa will like that!" Séamus said in a hopeful manner.

"What are you doing, Neville, or it is what Harry is doing?" Dean inquired.

All eyes turned to him, and his cheeks turned a bit pink before he said: "Going to London for a day or two at the start."

Harry knew why. He would go see his parents at St. Mungo's.

"Then at the start of July we'll spend a week in Italy collecting magical supplies with a friend of Gran's. Did you know I'm growing an olive tree? Not easy to do in England. Weather is all wrong, but I got it started. I wonder what the flesh and the stones will be like."

"Mate, only you would think of that," Ron droned.

"I think it's brilliant," Harry instantly defended his boyfriend. "I like olives, too. Hope I get to see your tree soon."

Neville beamed a smile at him even while the others except Hermione snickered. Harry recalled she saw Neville as an academic threat, and the fact he experimented with plants outside of Snogwarts made her even more competitive. He saw her eyes narrow.

"What about you, Hermione?" Neville asked.

"Going to America -- New York -- for an orthodontist convention with my parents. I want to go visit the magical congress over there and pick up the regulations and statutes they follow," she informed her friends.

"Hermione, what part of vacation don't you understand? You'll be in bleeding America. Go see something decent like Untimes Square," Ron chided. "I hear there's load of trouble you can get into there!"

Hermione hopped off Harry's bed. She strolled up to Ron full of threat. Ron began to recoil a bit. She halted before her nose touched his.

"Just because all you do is think with your dick doesn't mean the rest of us spend all our time trying to figure out what do with our genitals," she grumbled at him. All the boys, however, looked exceptionally guilty. "Did you ever think maybe we're going to need America's help with Holdequart? You know he attacked there, too, so I might just have a few conversations with people and try to get notion of where they stand."

"Good thinking, Hermione," Harry complimented her, and he truly thought it a good plan.

"Thank you, Harry. At least one of you gets it."

"Can you get me a copy of the Constitution of Magical States? I'd like to frame one for my gran. She'd like that," Neville inquired.

"Sure," the witch said. "I'll let you how much it costs when I get back."

Hermione snapped her teeth once in the face of a clearly frightened Ron. After which she stomped out of their room. Harry could see the nails in the bottom of her boots sending sparks off the flooring stones. A tense quiet lingered in the room.

"She's gonna kill you one of these days, mate," Dean warned Ron.

"Hermione doesn't kill," Harry grunted.

"Well, a good maiming then," Séamus added.

The boys went about finishing their packing, and each applied a little extra care to their efforts.

Harry found it hard to leave bed the next morning. Neville did not seem to want to move, either. However, a house elf ran up and down the stairs warning everyone the breakfast period would be short and what time the train would depart the Snogwarts depot. It did not leave them much wiggle room for anything other than getting prepared. Thus, a saddened Harry and Neville rose and got dressed. They marked their trunks as ready for delivery.

Harry did not eat much. Neither did Neville. They sat in the Great Hall pressed as closely together as they could. A dull ache began to build in Harry's chest knowing in seven short hours he would be parted from his boyfriend and possibly for the entire summer. Neither boy spoke much as they ignored the food and finally got hustled by the elves to the train station. They boarded the same car, but not until after Harry bid good-bye to Hagrid who swamped him with a huge hug and even larger tears. It felt like Hagrid hid a muggle bumper car under his moleskin jacket. Following that necessity, Harry joined his friends on the train. He almost started crying when the locomotive made the entire assembly lurch.

"We'll figure something out," Neville said in a depressed tone. "Maybe your aunt and uncle will take pity on you for once."

Harry snorted in disgust at the notion.

"Maybe we can each sneak out and meet some place? I can take the bus from Hughenden Valley to King's Cross."

"Don't be stupid," Hermione shot down Neville's idea. "You don't think Lord Holdequart won't be waiting to trap Harry alone some place. You'd get him killed in no time flat."

Harry felt certain his face reflected Neville's as the truth of the situation sank in. No matter what he did over the summer, he would need to be cautious. Harry surmised part of the reason why the scar on his glans hurt so much stemmed from the fury The Dork Lord espoused at failing to kill him. Hermione's brusque logic penetrated his brain.

"She's right, Neville: we're all going to have to be cautious. It would be stupid if we got caught someplace where we're not supposed to use magic... and we don't have any idea where Holdequart and his followers are hiding. It could be anywhere. We could run right into them," Harry said, fleshing out what likely prompted Hermione's comment.

Neville slumped against Harry.

The mood in the train cabin grew somber as those heading south to London seemed to contemplate exactly what they would face in the coming months. Unbeknownst to any of his friends, Harry checked out a number of books from the library to study over the summer. They concerned the first war instigated by Lord Holdequart. Madam Pince, with whom Harry built something of a working relationship, also suggested he read about the Grindelwald wars, one of the other more famous wizarding wars that took place. He sighed as he thought about how he would fill his summer days and what he would miss.

"Seems like a long time `til the start of school," he mumbled to himself.

Only Neville and Hermione did not throw Harry a dirty look.

Afterword

Although J.K. Rowling would likely find this story totally offensive to herself and the Harry Potter story series, I actually wrote it in homage to the series. I truly enjoyed the whole of the Harry Potter universe and hope we all will continue to enjoy it for many, many years to come. The fact Ms. Rowling got an entire world to start reading became the magical part of Harry Potter. Thus, I dedicate this parody to Ms. Rowling and the imaginative world she created.

Believe or not there is a second part to this, and it is most original based on this alternate universe I created. It is far less pornographic than this story, and I will decide where to post it at a later time.

The novel parts of this work, including characters, plot, and setting, are licensed under

Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

The characters, plot, and settings originating in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire remain licensed to J.K. Rowling.