The Problem With Homonyms

by Polydicta

Summary:

He shall have the power he knows not. Simple, right? Wrong …

Disclaimer:

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

-::::::::-

The Problem With Homonyms

"Come on, Harry, it'll be fun. We've managed to get rid of those damned horcruxes, so we can relax for a few days before finishing him off."

Harry grinned at his girlfriend of three weeks. They had gotten together shortly after Ron had deserted them, and suddenly, they had progressed their quest like anything.

"Okay, 'Mione, you win. I could do with some time off," he grinned.

An apparation and a stroll took the teens to the outskirts of a small town. The original plan was a trip to the cinema, but once they arrived, their plans changed.

"Harry? Let's go to the circus instead?"

He smiled at his girlfriend, as though he could deny her anything!

They paid and found themselves in a circus ground unlike any they had seen. In addition to the Big Top, there was an avenue of side-shows featuring a mixture of speciality acts and fairground games.

One in particular took their fancy.

An Arab-seeming gentleman by the stage name of Ali Pashar was sat, cross-legged, on a rug. In front of him was a coil of heavy rope. As he played his strange-looking pipe, the rope danced and writhed, tying itself in knots and loops. At last, the rope was stood vertically, about twenty feet tall and a young boy dressed the same as the man emerged from the tent and climbed the rope, and climbed beyond the apparent end, disappearing from view as he did so.

A few seconds later, he slid down the rope once more and disappeared into the ground, as though the rope continued below the grass. Once more he emerged, this time carrying a basket of apples on his back.

.

The teens could see that the 'illusion' used real magic and hung around until everyone else had gone.

Harry began, "I'm curious …"

"It's just an illusion," said Ali Pashar in a flawless Liverpudlian accent.

"Umm, you have a core in your pipe, don't you?"

The man looked around and, seeing that no one was around, nodded.

"My grandfather taught me the real Indian Rope Trick. It's actually not that difficult, but my grandson, Ahmed there, he has no magic at all. I guess the art will be lost in a few years."

"Would you be willing …"

"You wish to learn? Excellent. To ensure that this magic isn't lost, I shall teach you. It will take a day or two at most, and then lots of practice."

.

Harry and Hermione returned the next day and stayed with the circus as it travelled around the countryside for several weeks, helping out and being well fed and even being paid a little.

It turned out that the circus people were all aware of magic even though most could not use it. They appreciated Harry and Hermione's magical skills for what they could offer.

At last, Harry and Hermione had both learned the rope magic and had managed to build their own magic pipes, Harry's with a thestral-hair core and Hermione's with a hippogriff feather. A visit to a ships' chandlers when they passed through a fishing village bought them the rope they needed.

.

By summer, the pair were once more on their own, practising their new charms at every opportunity.

One evening, Hermione distracted Harry and found herself dancing in the same way that the rope had done previously. A sly grin crossed her face .

.

Lord Voldemort was stood outside Hogwarts and demanded that Harry be sent out to him.

The next he knew was a boy with startling green eyes, a turban and loose white robes was sat on the top of the steps leading to the main entrance. In his hand he held a strange pipe.

He put it to his lips and began to play, concentrating fully on the tall, snake-like Dark Lord.

Voldemort screamed as he found himself being forced to perform a sinuous, snake-like dance. His screams of outrage became screams of agony as his bones were broken as his body was forced to tie itself into a series of moving knots.

At last, broken and bloody, the silent body of the most feared Dark Lord since Mordred was allowed to drop, where the cooling corpse remained unmoving, victim to the power he knows knot.