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Michael Alexander Stories

Voldemort’s Wand

It was another long evening of homework for the three Gryffindor students and Harry silently wished that someone would slip snail droppings into Professor Snape's next demonstration potion.  The other students had all retired, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Ron the last three working. With a sigh, Harry picked up his quill and quickly began scratching in the many uses of tentacula poison, filling the parchment before him with long spidery lines.  As usual, his scar ached, a dull itch that let him know without doubt that Lord Voldemort was once again feeling strong emotions.  Both Ron and Hermione were deep into their own schoolwork, with Ron splayed awkwardly in one of the fat padded chairs that decorated the Gryffindor Common Room.  Ron's tie was gone, tossed over the back of the chair and one leg hung over the padded arm of the chair, and as usual, his face was scrunched up, trying desperately to understand the subject of his studies..  Hermione had managed to completely cover an entire study table on the opposite side of the common room, filling it with library books and parchment, muttering to herself, her dark Hogwarts robes covering her prim and proper blouse and skirt, as she continuosly cross-checked information between books..  Harry kept quiet about his scar, knowing that their predictable reactions to his aching wound would drive him insane.  But when a flash of happiness and pleasure caused his scar to seemingly burst, he clapped a hand to his head, signaling his two best friends that You-Know-Who was on the move.

    "Harry?  What is it?"  Ron asked, closing his book carefully and setting it on his chair before moving over to look Harry in the eyes.  His voice was high pitched and whiny, as if he expected the Dark Lord himself to pop out of the fire and yell "Gotcha!"  Hermione was more reserved, giving Harry the typical, "Well geeze, if you had learned occulumency like Professor Dumbledore had told you to..." look.  With an exasperated sigh Harry turned away and pretended he hadn't even seen them.  He shook his head. 

    "It was nothing.  Just a surge.  Forget it," Harry replied.

    Ron looked unsure but then shrugged and returned to his chair, picking up his book and once more turning to studiously reading.  Both Harry and Hermione stared at Ron, obviously surprised at his sudden interest in books.  Harry shrugged.

    "Well, I've got to get back to my arithmomancy essay,"she said.  Harry nodded. 

    "Yeah, sorry to disturb you," he said, still a little sullen.  Hermione sighed and returned to her paperwork cluttered chair, her long Hogwarts robes swirling around her knobby knees.

    Harry looked back down on his own schoolwork, but then jerked back as he felt something fly by his head.  He whipped out his wand instinctively and looked at Ron, who was quickly tucking his wand away while trying to fiddle with his book.

    "What the bloody hell?" Harry asked.  "What are you trying to do, Ron?" 

    Ron looked up.  "Huh?  Whatcha mean, mate?"

    Harry gave Ron a dangerous look and stood up, wand still in hand.  "I mean what's with casting magic at me."  Ron's eyes widened in surprise.

    "Magic?  I didn't cast any magic," he said, his voice once again hitting the high registers.  Harry didn't need veritiserum to tell Ron was lying through his teeth.  Ron peered around Harry, checking on Hermione, who was studiously ignoring the two of them.

    "You didn't then?  I felt it go right past my face, you idiot.  You almost hit me!"  Harry was practically shaking.  "What the hell are you reading anyway?"  Harry grabbed for the book.

    "No!" Ron cried, trying desperately to retrieve the book from Harry.

    To Harry's surprise, a small pamphlet was tucked into the History of Magic tome, its dog-eared pages clearly worn.  Ron seemed to shrink into his chair as Harry extracted the pamphlet and read the title.

    "Magic Spells to Turn On Your Favorite Witch?" Harry asked, his voice filled with skepticism.

    Ron's face had a look of horror.  "Please don't tell her!" Ron begged.

    Harry's eyebrows furrowed and he turned to glance at Hermione.  The view that met his eyes was disturbing and his mouth hung open.  Hermione was still studying, her face buried in a book, but her left hand had pulled her robe aside and was now jammed down the waist of her skirt.  Her legs were spread slightly and her hand seemed to be moving langoriously between her legs.

    Harry threw the pamphlet and book at Ron, who barely caught them. 

    "You're sick," he declared and turned away from Ron.  Harry started across the room, completely intent on casting finite incantatem on Hermione, when there was a sudden loud crack.  Harry jumped in surprise as Dobby the house elf appeared, his bulbous eyes wide and frightened.  He turned and saw Harry, and scrambled across the common room rug to clamber up Harry's robes, clinging to the boy's back, shivering.

    "Dobby?" asked Harry, surprised and more than a little alarmed at the house elf's behavior.  "What is it?  What's wrong, Dobby?"  Harry swung around in a circle, trying to get the elf off his back.

    Dobby let out a pitiful moan.  "Oh, Dobby's been a bad, bad Dobby.  Bad, bad, bad, bad!"  The little elf pitched his head forward in obvious self flagellation, but unfortunately the only thing available to knock his head against was Harry's skull. 

    "Ow!  Dobby!  You bloody..."  Harry said, his voice filled with pain.  He grabbed hold of Dobby and yanked the odd looking creature off his back.  "You'd better have a decent explanation!"  Harry demanded, dropping the house elf to the floor.

    Dobby broke down into pitiful bawling, his large eyes producing enough tears to wash the rug.  "Oh, Dobby's been bad, Harry Potter!  So bad, Dobby must punish himself!"  Once again the house elf wailed, flailing at the floor with his hands and feet.  Both Hermione and Ron had come to stand with Harry, looking in consternation at the miserable elf, her face flushed.  Hermione bent down and placed her right hand on the elf's shoulder.  To Harry's astonishment, her left was still down her skirt, rapidly thrusting, thanks to Ron’s spell.

    "Now Dobby, I'm sure it can't be that bad.  What did you do?" she asked, her voice tender and gentle, despite the heated look on her face.

    Dobby sniffed, his huge brown eyes looking at Hermione.  "I was called," he whispered.  "I had to go.  To him!"  A fresh round of sobs punctuated his explanation.

    "To him?" asked Harry, his eyes curious.  "To Dumbledore?"  Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts, and since Dobby worked for the school, only Dumbledore could have ordered the house elf to appear.

    Dobby shook his head.  "No, Harry Potter.  To He Who Must Not Be Named!"  Dobby suddenly clapped his hands over his mouth and began slamming his head repeatedly into the floor.

    "What!" Harry exclaimed, "You went to Voldemort?"

    "Oi!"  Ron said, clearly perturbed at the use of the Dark Lord’s name.

    Hermione blanched as well, but continued to frig herself under the skirt.

    Dobby squealed.  "You said his name!  Harry Potter said the name of he who must not be named!" 

    Harry let out an exasperated sigh.  "Dobby, what did he make you do?  What's his plan?" 

    The house elf shook his head.  "Dobby was told not to tell!  Ever!"

    Harry felt a small wave of triumph.  Perhaps Dobby could tell him Voldemort's next plan, allowing him to give the Order of the Phoenix intelligence.  Harry crossed his arms. "And I'm telling you to tell us."

    Dobby looked around and then nodded.  With a whisper, he leaned in, his voice low. 

    "I had to polish the Dark Lord's wand," Dobby replied, his eyes wild with fright.

    Harry looked confused.  "Excuse me?"

    Dobby nodded, his eyes full of seriousness.  "I had to polish the Dark Lord's wand," he whispered again.

    "You've got to be kidding me," Harry replied, his mouth quirking into a frown.  "He made you polish his wand?"

    Ron had come over as well and snickered as Harry turned toward him.  "You know, this might provide us with an opportunity," Harry suddenly said.  Ron clearly wasn't following Harry's line of thinking.  But thinking wasn't exactly Ron's suit, unless he was a chess piece on a giant game board.

    Harry motioned down at Dobby, who sat on the rug, scooting around, trying to give himself carpet burn.  "If Voldemort is allowing Dobby to touch and polish his wand, this might be the very opportunity we're looking for!  If we get his wand, he'll be crippled!"

    Hermione gave out a low moan, but spoke somewhat normally when both boys looked at her.  "Harry! You can't ask Dobby to steal the Dark Lord's wand!  He's just a house elf!"  Her face was colored almost bright red and her chest seemed to heave as her left hand worked furiously, making the folds of her skirt flutter.  Hermione's legs were spread wide, leaving little doubt as to the effects of Ron's spell.

    Harry turned toward Dobby, deciding that dealing with Dobby was clearly more important that Hermione's sexual difficulties.  Ron couldn't keep his eyes off Hermione, clearly deciding that Hermione's spell induced impropriety was more important than Dobby's Dark Lord problems.

    "Dobby, do you think that you could manage to steal Voldemort's wand?"  Harry asked, his voice low and excited.  Dobby stopped giving his bottom carpet burn and looked up at Harry.

    "I think so, Harry Potter.  But what would you do with the Dark Lord's wand?"  Doby asked.

    Harry thought about it for only a moment.  "I'd break it, Dobby.  Snap it in two.  That way he could never call you again."  He looked down at Dobby.  "You don't want to have to polish his wand ever again, do you?" Harry asked.

    Dobby cocked his head and then slowly shook it.  "No, Dobby doesn't like to polish the Dark Lord's wand.  It tastes bad."

    Harry looked at the elf in confusion, but then shrugged.  There were still a zillion things that he didn't know about house elves, but the opportunity to handicap Voldemort was too tempting.

    "Dobby, I want you to go back to Voldemort and take his wand and bring it to me here," Harry commanded.  "Do you understand?"

    Hermione shook her head.  "Harry, I can't believe you're asking Dobby to risk his life for you!  This is exactly why I started SCREW."  She looked at Harry with angry eyes, even as her right hand began to unbutton her blouse, pulling her red and gold tie to dangle at the side of her neck. 

    "SCREW?"  asked Ron, his face clearly baffled.  "What the hell is that? I thought it was SPEW."

    Hermione closed her eyes, clearly becoming overwhelmed.  She turned and stalked off back to her chair, flopping down in it, ignoring her homework as her hands began to stroke and plunge.  Her right hand slipped into her semi-open shirt, cupping her curves with tight fingers.

    Ron's eyes were wide at the sight and Harry smacked him hard on the side of the head.  "She's our friend.  Get rid of that spell now while I get Dobby settled!" Harry demanded.

    Ron gave him a grumpy look and then nodded, shuffling slowly back to his chair to pick up the pamphlet.

    Harry turned back to Dobby.  "Dobby, go and steal Voldemort's wand.  Can you do it?"

    Dobby hesitated for just a moment.  "Dobby will offer to polish the Dark Lord's wand again and steal it for Harry Potter." 

    "Thank you, Dobby.  I can't tell you how much I appreciate that," Harry replied.

    Dobby nodded and then disapparated with a loud crack.

    With a sigh, Harry turned back toward Hermione.  Ron was standing next to her, flipping through the pages of the pamphlet with a sense of urgency.  As Harry moved closer, he saw what had spurred Ron to look for the counter-spell more quickly.  Hermione had decided that the waistband of her skirt was in the way and had yanked the dark material upward, exposing an elegant pair of black panties, with see thru mesh stripes.  The revealing undergarments left little to Harry’s imagination.  Worse, her magic wand was pressed tightly against her crotch, and a hushed spell whispered from her lips had caused the long piece of wood to vibrate intensely.

    "What the hell?" demanded Harry.  "What did you do to her?"

    Ron blubbered. "I don't know!  The pamphlet didn't talk about stuff like this!  It was just supposed to make her horny!"  He flipped through the pages of the small pamphlet in a panic.

    Harry pushed Ron out of the way and raised his own wand, the wooden stick pointed straight at Hermione.  "Finite Incantatem!" Harry said, his words strong and deep.  A wash of bright light exploded out of the tip of Harry's wand and coalesced around Hermione.  To both Harry and Ron's surprise, the spell did nothing, and actually made things worse.  Hermione's hand pulled hard on her shirt, buttons popping as her fingers snatched at something.  Harry looked concerned and grabbed a Gryffindor blanket that lay across the sofa and threw it over Hermione, who seemed to ignore the covering.

    Ron looked at Harry.  "What are we going to do?" his voice high and concerned.  "We can't leave her like that."  Harry reached out and snatched the pamphlet out of Ron's hands.

    "Where did you get this?" he demanded, as he opened the small parchment. 

    "Found it in the loo," Ron admitted.

    Harry looked down at the first page.  There, clearly spelled out with graphic pictures, was a spell designed to make a witch hot.  The description explained how the be-spelled girl would feel so hot that she began to peel off her clothes completely, until totally nude.  Then the spell would fade away.

    "You've got to be kidding me," Harry muttered.  "You decided to test these out on Hermione?"

    Ron's face darkened.  "So who would you have had me test them on? Cho?"  Ron replied angrily.

    Harry spluttered for a moment. As beautiful as Cho was, she wasn't the first girl that sprang to Harry's mind as a test subject. But now was certainly not the time to admit to Ron the feelings Harry was having for his mate's sister.  "Uh...it’s not that.  You shouldn't have used them at all!  It isn't right!"  Harry sighed.  "Which one did you use on Hermione?"

    "Page seven," Ron muttered.

    Harry turned to page seven and began reading.  The spell was designed to slowly induce the witch to feel arousal, totally uninhibited, and self confident enough to masturbate regardless of where she was.

    "You chose THIS?"  Harry demanded.

    "What?"  Ron replied, his eyes wide.

    Harry snarled and stalked away, trying to hide his fury.  The last thing he needed was his two best friends getting involved in this manner.  He sat down on the sofa and tossed the pamphlet to the side.  Head in hands he tried to think of a way to fix Hermione, all the while his mind churned over the dangerous task he had sent Dobby to complete.

    "Um Harry?" Ron said, trying to get his friend's attention.

    "What?" 

    "I think it's getting worse."

    Harry stood back up and looked over.  Hermione had slid to the floor, leaving the blanket behind.  Her clothes were askew, with an unseemly amount of skin showing.  Harry's heart leapt to his throat as he realized that Hermione's right hand was now buried in her panties, fingers pumping, while her wand was held to cloth itself, vibrating like mad.

    "What are we going to do?"  Ron asked, horrified, but obviously enraptured.

    "Perhaps when she orgasms, the spell wears off?"  Harry said, shrugging.  "We might have to take her to Madame Pompfrey."  He looked at Ron.  "I'm sure there will be a few questions asked."

    Ron blanched.  "Maybe we can make it look like Malfoy did it!" he said.

    Harry gave Ron a wry look.  "Yeah.  He snuck into the Gryffindor Common Room and put a sex spell on her."

    With a frown Ron deflated and shook his head.  "That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

    "Another brilliant plan, Ron."

    "Well I'm sorry!" 

    Harry shook his head.  "We'll just have to let her ride it out until Dobby gets back.  We can't afford not to be here in case he manages to steal Voldemort's wand."

    Ron flinched.  "Harry, I wish you wouldn't say his name.  We've talked about that!"

    Harry rolled his eyes.  "Ron, Dumbledore says..."

    "Yes I know!  But that's Dumbledore!" Ron squeaked.

    "Well I've defeated Voldemort as well and..."suddenly Harry clapped his hand to his head.

    "What?  Are you okay?" Ron asked as Harry fell to his knees.

    Pain flooded through Harry's head and he suddenly saw through Voldemort's eyes.  He was in a dark house, illuminated only by candles and a roaring fire.  Blood was everywhere, spilled across a loose robe that he was wearing.  Bellatrix Lestrange was standing before him, wand out, screeching, her own robe open and exposing as much skin as Hermione's current state of undress.  Harry felt a wash of pain, then of anger, and then of embarrassment.  Then the vision went dark.

    "Harry?  Harry!" Ron said, pulling Harry's arm.  "Are you okay?"

    Harry blinked and shook his head.  "He's furious.  I didn't understand it all.  Bellatrix was there. There was blood all over.  Oh no! I think he killed Dobby!"

    There was a loud crack and both Harry and Ron jumped as the small house elf appeared before the fire.  His mismatched clothing was splattered in blood and Dobby's lips were parted in a wide grin.

    "Harry Potter!  I did it!  I did as you asked!  I took his wand!"

    Harry leapt to his feet, letting out a hoarse cry.  "Yes!  Quick! Let me have it, Dobby!"

    Dobby practically ran to Harry, lifting his hand.  Harry reached out, intent on grabbing the brother wand to his own phoenix feather cored wand, only to flinch back with a cry.  There, lying shrived and bloody, was a rather small, severed penis.

    "What the hell!" Harry exclaimed, jumping back.  Ron stared, his mouth open. 
Hermione continued to ignore the whole thing, still intent on her own personal needs.

    "Dobby!  What...what is that?" Harry demanded in shock.   Dobby looked down on the severed body part and his eyes suddenly watered, filling with tears.

    "The Great Harry Potter said he wanted Dobby to take the Dark Lord's wand.  Dobby did as Harry Potter asked!  Dobby has brought Harry Potter the wand of He Who Must Not Be Named!"  Dobby replied.

    "But Dobby!  That's not his wand!  That's his...his..."  Harry was at a loss for words.

    "I want some cock!" Hermione suddenly said, eyes closed.

    Dobby looked confused.  "The Dark Lord called me and said he wanted me to polish his wand and then he opened his robe and showed Dobby his wand and I had to use my mo..."

    Harry waved his hands frantically.  "Stop Dobby!  Stop!  Don't say anymore!"

    Ron looked disgusted.  "Are you telling me that Voldemort gets blowjobs from house elves?" 

    Together, they both looked down at the severed penis.  "Do you realize what this means?"  Harry asked, his voice filled with amazement.

    "Voldemort has no dick?" Ron asked. 

    Harry gave his best friend a glare.  "It means he has a weakness we can exploit!" Harry declared, his hand drawing into a fist.

    "I don't get it.  How does not having a dick make him weak?" Ron asked, still perplexed.

    "Dobby can get in and out of his secret hideout!" Harry declared.

    Ron put his hands on his hips.  "I'm not sure Dobby is going to get invited back for a return engagement after he bit off Voldemort's wanker, Harry."

    Harry gave a defeated sigh and then looked back at Dobby, who still held the bloody worm.

    "So what do we do with it?" Harry asked.

    Suddenly, Hermione stood next to them, face bathed in a light sheen of perspiration.  The blanket was wrapped around her, but did nothing to cover her disheveled clothes and exposed body.  Both Ron and Harry stared in amazement at bared curves and lots of leg. 

    "Can I have it?" Hermione asked, her eyes still slightly unfocused.  "I really need it.  I know just where to put it."

    Ron looked at her in horror and quickly snatched the bloody appendage from Dobby and hurled it into the fireplace.  In moments it darkened, the nauseating scent of burned flesh permeating the common room.  Ron's vehemence was so strong that neither Harry nor Dobby had time to react.

    "You are NOT banging Voldemort!" Ron practically shouted.

    Hermione looked as if she was on the verge of tears and Harry grabbed Ron's wand.  His real wand, not the one in his friend's trousers.  He handed it to Hermione.

    "Here.  Use this!" 

    "Hey!  That's my wand."  Ron said angrily, trying to get past Harry's outstretched arm.
    Hermione smiled and took Ron's wand back to her chair where it disappeared under the blanket.

    Ron glared at Harry.  "If my wand gets broke..." he threatened.

    Harry shook his head and stepped over to the fire.  Voldemort's penis was nothing more than a blackened smear, smoking nastily.  With a sigh, Harry looked over at Dobby, who had stayed quiet through the entire outburst.

    "Dobby, I think you need to get cleaned up," Harry said softly.

    Dobby nodded.  "Yes Harry Potter."

    Harry gave the elf a quick pat on the shoulder. "And Dobby, I don't think we need to mention this to anyone, all right?"

    "As the Great Harry Potter asks, Dobby will do."  The house elf said, his voice filled with admiration and worship.  Then he apparated away.

    As Harry and Ron looked at each other, Hermione let out a sharp cry, filled with a combination of pleasure and need.  Both boys hurried over to her just as she orgasmed, exploding in a wave of sensation.  With a long sigh of delight, she pulled Ron's wand out from under the blanket, her face beaming.

    "Thank you for letting me use your wand, Ron,"  Hermione said, her voice filled with the torpid exhaustion of sexual release.

    "Uh...you're welcome."  Ron replied, taking his wand back, giving the wet, gooey, and sticky wood a repulsive but intrigued glance.

    Hermione grinned and then leaned back again.  "I don't know what you did to me Ron, but that was the most incredible orgasm I've ever had.  I can't believe you did that to me."

    Ron looked horrified, glancing back and forth between Harry and Hermione.  "Um...it wasn't me, Hermione!" he lied.

    She shook her head, still languidly relaxing on the floor, wrapped up in the blanket.  "Oh I know it was you, Ron.  And after I stop feeling so good, I'm going to kill you," she said, her tone totally opposite from her words.

    "K-k-kill me?" Ron repeated.

    Hermione smiled, stretching.  "Oh yes...I'm going to kill you for this."

    Even Harry swallowed and Ron began to back away.

    Hermione slowly propped herself up and Harry saw the look in her eye as the spell Ron had cast upon her slowly faded away.  She began to readjust her clothing, covering up her more salient features as her expression changed from sensuous pleasure to sullen anger.  Just as she managed to get herself together, she picked up her own wand and whirled upon Ronald Weasley, murder and mayhem in her eyes.

    "Obliviate!" said Harry, his wand pointed directly at Hermione.  She stiffened; then her eyes went blank.  Within a few moments, she seemed to collect herself and she looked at Harry, obviously confused.

    "Harry?  What's going on?  I thought I was doing my homework," Hermione said, looking around the common room.  "Ohhh...what's that smell?" she asked, lifting a hand to her nose.

    Harry shrugged.  "Ron tossed a dung bomb in the fire.  Sorry about that."  Harry looked at her with a concerned expression.  "Are you feeling all right?  You mentioned that you needed to head upstairs to the dormitory."

    Hermione paused for a moment and then looked disturbed.  "I...I...I think you're right, Harry.  I should go to bed," Hermione said, quietly going to the table.  She loaded up her books into her black satchel and gave both Ron and Harry a wave before going upstairs.

    "I can't believe you did that," Ron said, wobbling from stress, before he collapsed down on the couch.

    Harry gave Ron a reproachful look.  "I can't believe you used that spell on her.  When did you find that pamphlet?" 

    Ron sighed. "This afternoon.  I thought it was a joke at first, but one of the spells causes a girl's breasts to get two sizes bigger, like an engorgement charm, but more specific.  I tried it out on that third year girl in Hufflepuff who is flat as a pancake and you should have seen the results!"

    Harry shook his head.  "Disgusting.  You can't use these spells, Ron.  Especially after what happened with Hermione.  It's wrong."

    Ron swallowed.  "Yeah.  But cool."

    "Yeah.  But cool."  Harry picked up the pamphlet.

    "I don't know if I can face Hermione again," Ron said.  His eyes were still a little wild.

    "She's a friend, mate.  You've got to.  And you can't tell her what happened either,"  Harry replied.

    "I don't know if I can," Ron said, his voice thick.

    Harry looked down, making the decision.  With a quick flick of his wrist he whirled and pointed his wand at Ron.  As the Obliviate spell struck his red-haired friend, Harry felt a twinge of guilt. 

    Ron blinked.  "What's going on?  Where's Hermione?" he asked.

    Harry stowed his wand away.  "She went to bed.  You should too," Harry replied.

    Ron sighed and nodded, picking up his copy of History of Magic.  He glanced around the room and sniffed.  "That's a revolting smell.  Did someone chuck a dung bomb down here?"

    Harry looked at his friend and grinned.  "Yeah.  But don't worry about it, okay. You get to bed."

    Ron nodded and then headed up the stairs.  Harry turned back to the fireplace with the pamphlet, intending to toss it in after Voldemort's severed dick.  But as he bent low, he paused, and then opened the pamphlet.  As his eyes danced across the pages, his mouth turned upward in a smile, daydreaming about a certain red-haired waif, swirling before him as clothes fell like leaves.  He grabbed the poker and stirred the ashes, obliterating any last vestige of Lord Voldemort's "wand". 

    The pamphlet got tucked into the Marauder’s Map as Harry began climbing the stairs to the dormitory.  With a sigh he paused, looking around the Gryffindor common room.  It had been an exhausting night, filled with amazing events.  But no matter what, Harry knew that his confrontation with Voldemort would come, and that Voldemort would still be a challenge, even without his "wand."

    Harry laughed, and went to bed.

 

 

Author’s Note:

I just want to apologize here to JKR, an incredible writer who I admire very much.  This story is an abomination that should never have been penned and would not have been had I not been badgered by fellow fan-fic writer and artist, Sheo.  While traveling together we shared a conversation in which I did a fair impersonation of Daniel Radcliff’s voice and the jokes flew.  I was practically forced to write this.  I’d thank her for editing it, but she laughed so hard while reading it that she didn’t even notice that I had spelled the word “quick” with an extra “n”. 

While this story fits nicely into the middle of the sixth book, it should not be considered probable or even possible.  At the very end, I toyed with Harry doing the right thing and throwing the pamphlet into the fire, but then I realized that the real Harry Potter would never do that.  It’s not information that is evil, but how you use it.  I guess every story has a moral, even this one.

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