"Get him off, get him off!" Sirius yelled as Gnome-mort clung to his leg and bit him.

Shackelbolt tried to kick him, but the little bugger was much too fast and he ended up kicking Sirius in the balls and then was leaping around screaming with Gnome-mort attached to his leg. Fleur threw a fireball that predictably nailed Shack in the crotch, causing Gnome-mort to jump ship, while Shack was running in circles screaming with his crotch on fire.

"Diffindo!" Harry cast, slicing off the Gnome's left arm, which was the hand the ring was on. He'd hoped that removing the horcrux container from the body would restore it to stone, but all it did was enrage the pintsized terror who shot at Harry like a rocket, smoothly evading any spells cast at it. Thinking quickly, Harry cast, "Protego uts-nay!" just before everything went black.

Harry woke to a pounding headache and a series of bite marks. "That little bastard, better not have rabies," Harry muttered.

"Did you have to stomp the fire out?" Shack demanded.

Sirius shrugged. "I wasn't thinking clearly, because someone kicked me in the balls!"

"Where's the gnome?" Harry demanded.

"It apparated out as soon as it had your wand," Tonks told him while Fleur helped him up.

"Then why do I feel hungover?" Harry asked.

"You took several stunners to the head, sorry," Tonks apologized.

"At least your balls are OK," Sirius offered casting numbing charms on his own crotch.

"And we have the ring," Shacklebolt said, holding up the gnome's arm.

"I need the small black stone off the ring," Harry said with a sigh. "Now we have two Voldemort's running around."

"And one's a one-armed gnome armed with your wand," Sirius said.

"By the way," Tonks said, "Protego uts-nay?"

"Targeted Protego spell," Harry said with a shrug. "I couldn't remember the Latin word for balls. It's the only bit of me that doesn't hurt right now."

"Too bad, I would have kissed them better," Fleur teased, trying to cheer him up.

Thinking quickly Sirius turned and kicked Harry in the nuts as hard as he could.

"The best thing for him is bed rest," Madame Pomfrey said with a sigh. "I can't believe how accident prone he is. His testicles are in very poor condition and it'll be months before he can even think of sex without pain."

Tonks shook her head. "It's been a weird day."

"I can't help but feel partly responsible," Fleur said.

"Just make sure he stays in bed until the Skele-gro has done its job," Pomfrey said.

"We will, and thanks again," Tonks said, seeing her out.

"So, what'd she say?" Harry asked, as he joined them.

"She said to keep him in the bed until he's regrown all the bones in his foot and that even thinking of sex is going to be painful until his balls heal," Tonks explained.

"Ouch," Harry said with a wince.

"I still feel guilty," Fleur said.

"It's not your fault," Harry assured her. "You haven't been around him long enough to predict that he'd do this. Now come with me and try and look sad while I explain to him that the damage was too great and they're going to have to cut them off, but we found a vet who'll do the job for a fraction of the price a reputable doctor would."

The two girls just stared at him in shock.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Isn't that a bit cruel?" Tonks asked.

"He tried to kick me in the balls," Harry reminded her. "As a man and his godson I am required to prank him back for that, if for no other reason than to discourage that sort of behavior. Besides, once the prank is over the fact that he is only out a commission for a month will be a relief."

"That makes a great deal of sense," Fleur said.

"Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind," Shack said, reminding them he was there. "Can I tell him?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, but then you have to stun him and transfigure a large plastic cone around his neck while he's out, so he really does think we took him to the vet."


Fleur and Tonks exchanged glances and shrugged.

"At least it's good for a laugh," Tonks offered.

Peter stared at the one-armed gnome holding Harry's wand and tried to figure out exactly why he was looking at a one eighth scale Voldemort who looked more than a little feral. Deciding it was above his pay grade he stepped aside. "Come right on in, Master. You may want to do something about the arm when you get a chance."

The gnome silently cast a familiar looking spell and strands of silver grew from his shoulder slowly forming a complete arm, which he stretched and flexed showing it to be fully functional.

"Right this way Master," Peter said, leading the tiny Dark Lord to his larger counterpart. He may not know what was going on, but this looked to be entertaining.

Voldemort was deep in discussion with Fenrir and Malfoy, who twitched from his earlier cruciatus exposure, when the door to his throne room opened. He was about to curse the arrogant fool who dared enter without permission when he felt the connection to one of his Horcruxes flare as it entered his presence and Wormtail stepped aside revealing a tiny Voldemort with a silver arm and Harry Potter's wand, if he was not mistaken. Voldemort frowned. This would not do at all, he couldn't have a tiny version of himself running around, he'd have to find out what had happened and turn it back into a Horcrux. From the look of things, he'd have to guess a gnome stumbled across one of his horcruxes, probably while tunneling, and went after Potter. He appeared to have lost an arm, probably when he fought Potter for his wand.

"Who's the runt?" Fenrir asked as he looked disdainfully at the tiny Voldemort.

Voldemort was about to teach Fenrir his place for daring to disdain even a horcrux of himself when the tiny Dark Lord attacked. Despite his size and lycanthropy, Fenrir found himself on the wrong side of an asskicking as he was savaged by the vicious little creature who forgoed magic to physically tear into him like a Wolverine with silver claws.

As the two rolled across the room with Fenrir clearly getting the worst of it Voldemort smiled and reconsidered what he'd been planning. "I think I'll call him Mini-He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named," he decided.

"Get him off! Get him off!" Fenrir shouted.

An old man with a white Mohawk, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, with a stuffed parrot on his shoulder and a shotgun in his hand banged on the door.

As Wormtail wasn't about, one of the new recruits opened the door and stared speechless at the strangely dressed muggle in front of him.

Seeing the black robed figure, Mr. Henderson knew exactly what to say. "Muckle darn cult! Where are you namblys keeping my wee men?"

Typing by: Bankrupt Samurai