Miss Miller looked nervously at her students. She was happy that most of them had decided to take time off from their vacation break for the special class on advanced quantum mechanics. What worried her was one boy, Malcolm, in the middle of the group of students, with his friend, Stevie.
Malcolm was, at one time, her brightest pupil, and best hope. Then he suffered a nervous breakdown while in Europe on vacation. He now went to a special school, the Hogwarts Institute for Emotional Unstable Children. The thing that hurt Christine the most was that Malcolm now believed he was a magical sorcerer who was studying witchcraft. She wept when she thought of the tenuous hold he had on reality.
She flashed back to that horrible scene, during the Christmas break. She had encountered two of Malcolm's classmates making wild passionate love in the park with the complete disregard of their surroundings. Well, it was only an innocent kiss, but that was because they were only starting. Christine knew what these things led to. And Malcolm, poor dear little Malcolm, was now sitting in her classroom, and she had one slim chance to rescue this deluded young child lost in the maze that was his own mind.
"Class, come to order please," Christine Miller called out, "are there any questions before we begin?"
One boy raised his hand and said, "I'd like to ask Malcolm if they fly brooms at the magic school he goes to."
Christine was aghast. "That is not something to make fun of. Malcolm, don't listen to what I am about to say. As for the rest of you, I am ashamed. Here we have a boy who cannot even tell the difference between what is real and what is only a fantasy coming from the depths of his shattered little mind. He has spent most of a year in the hands of specialists trying to regain at least a skeletal framework of awareness and you treat him as a joke. You can listen now, Malcolm. So you see, class, in a sense, Malcolm does go to a magic school, and it is because of their magic that Malcolm can be here with us today. Are there any other questions?"
[Watching Miss Miller freak out is the best part of coming to these seminars. I like the way she always starts to cry whenever she looks at me.]
Stevie raised his hand, "Miss . . . Miller, I think . . . Malcolm . . . listened when . . . you told him . . . not to."
"Is that true, Malcolm?" she asked.
"Well, yes," Malcolm said, "but only to hear when I should start listening again."
"You see, Stevie, it's all right," Christine said, then added in a loud whisper, "Thank you for keeping an eye on him."
"Does she really believe I didn't hear that?" Malcolm whispered to his friend.
"What are you whispering about, Malcolm?" the teacher asked.
"I was just asking him what you said," Malcolm replied.
"And I . . . didn't . . . tell him," Stevie added.
"And you shouldn't, Stevie," Miss Miller said, "and you, Malcolm, shouldn't pry into other people's conversations."
"Yes, Ma'am," Malcolm said, and hung his head as though ashamed.
"Oh, no, Malcolm," Christine Miller said, suddenly distraught, "I didn't mean to criticize you. I meant it in a good way. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She burst into tears and fled the classroom.
"So, Malcolm," the boy asked, "Do they fly brooms at your new school?"
"No," Malcolm lied.
"Show us some magic," another boy coaxed.
"Can't," Malcolm said, "They waited until the last day of school to tell us we're not allowed to use magic at home."
"I don't . . . think . . . she's coming back," Stevie said. As though it was a signal, everyone got up and left. Christine Miller returned five minutes later, once again in control of herself, to find the classroom completely empty.
As Malcolm left the classroom, a familiar voice called out to him. Stevie pointed out the blond-haired boy who had called.
"Draco, What are you doing here?"
"You invited me to spend a couple of days with you," Draco said, "assuming anyone asks."
"Okay," Malcolm said, "and what are you doing here?"
"I had one more day before I have to return home, and I thought I would pay you a visit, for real. Hello, again, Stevie."
"Hi . . . Draco," Stevie said, "Welcome back . . . to the . . . States."
"Thank you," Draco said, "I'm supposed to invite Malcolm to spend the weekend at the manor. I'd love to invite you as well. Father would have a fit."
"I. . .understand . . . why you . . . don't . . . invite me," Stevie said.
"You don't understand," Draco said, "that is why I want to invite you. Father would have a fit."
The laughter died down as Miss Miller walked around the corner looking for her students. She spotted Malcolm and Stevie, then recognized the third boy. She turned around and went back around the corner.
Reese looked up as Malcolm walked in with his friend. "Drakster, my man," he called out.
Draco waved back, smiling. Reese took this as a challenge, and got up to face the young Slytherin. "Why aren't you afraid of me?" He asked, "You can't use any magic to protect yourself. Malcolm told me."
Draco smiled even wider, and said, "Reese, you should never bully a bully. I have to report to the Ministry of Magic, should I cast any spells. Here, however, I am outside their jurisdiction." He emphasized this by pulling out his wand and pointing it at the American boy.
Reese understood quite clearly the meaning of such multi syllabic words as 'jurisdiction.' In a rational act, he decided to go to the park early, to meet his friend Steve, stopping only long enough to open the front door. As the door closed, Lois entered the living room, "Have you seen Reese?"
"He just left, Mom. Draco wants to know if I can spend the weekend at his house?"
"Damn that kid," Lois said, "He always knows when I have work for him to do. Ask your father. I think he wanted to do something with you boys this weekend."
"No, I don't," Hal called out. He hurried into the living room, and whispered to Lois. "Listen, Francis has gone camping, and Reese is going to that Quidditch game with the Longbottom kid. If we let Malcolm go, and we get rid of Dewey, we're alone for two whole days."
Lois turned to Malcolm, and said, "You can go, but you have to take Dewey with you."
"How soon can you leave?" Hal asked.
Malcolm trudged off in disgust. He gets to spend time with his best friend, but he has to drag his little brother along. He found Dewey, and told him what was up.
"I don't want to go," Dewey complained.
"Then you can spend the weekend alone with Mom and Dad," Malcolm snapped back.
Dewey picked up his backpack and said, "I'm ready."
The three headed back to the living room, and approached the fireplace. Using floo powder, they quickly left the house, and reappeared at Malfoy Manor. Hal ran and locked the front door, and followed Lois into the bedroom.
Reese ran into Steve's father at the park, only to receive some bad news. Steve had been caught sneaking out with his father's broom, and was grounded. His father explained to Reese that the weekend plans were cancelled. Reese headed back to the house, but couldn't get in. No one answered his knocks, although he could hear noises from inside the house. He was found, lying in front of the door, cold and hungry, on Monday morning, when Hal accidentally stepped on him on his way to work.