Chapter Eleven: Where the Heck is Malcolm

Dewey forced himself out of bed to face his first day of school. What he wished most was that it was the first day of school, last year. He showered, dressed, brushed his teeth, flossed and grimaced. Having finished, he headed to Slytherin's common room to see if anyone was waiting for him. Avery was the most likely suspect, although Malcolm Baddock would make it a point if he suddenly had another idea about what music they could play.

Professor Slughorn was standing there, giving him the nervous smile he always had whenever he talked to Dewey or any of his brothers. Except Malcolm. The nervous smile was a nervous scowl as he ordered Malcolm to get away from him. Needless to say, Potions was Malcolm's favorite class.

"Ah, there is our young musician, now. I have good news for you, Dewey."

Dewey sighed. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he feared. He looked up and smiled. In an eager voice, he asked, "What is it. Sir?"

"You have been excused from your classes, today."

Dewey forced himself to frown. "Even yours?"

"Yes," Slughorn said, a bit too happily. "And, in exchange, you get to talk to Headmaster Snape. He said it was very important."

Dewey nodded. He was trying to think. The twins couldn't have ended up in trouble this quickly? All they had to do was go to sleep. Unless . . .

Dewey had no idea what came after unless so he stopped thinking, put on his best smile and said, "Okay. Can I eat breakfast first?"

"Of course, you can," Slughorn told him. That guaranteed that, regardless of how long the headmaster kept him, the boy would definitely miss his potions class. "It won't be a problem."

"Thank you, sir."

Dewey left the common room and made his way to the Great Hall. Having time to himself, he tried to imagine what could possibly be wrong. It couldn't be the twins. He himself didn't do anything. Reese was so convinced he was Draco that he would say he was Draco if you drained all of his blood and replaced it with Veritaserum. Malcolm hadn't shown up, nor had Nob. That was almost a certainty.

As Dewey walked into the Hall, he glanced at the Gryffindor table. The twins were already there, talking with a pair of first year girls. They were laughing about something. If anything was wrong, it wasn't a family matter. Satisfied that he truly had no idea what was going on, he sat down next to Avery and ate a hearty breakfast. They talked briefly about the meeting and Avery admitted that he couldn't think of any reason, either.

As breakfast ended, Dewey made his way to the headmaster's office. He stood in front of the gargoyle. The gargoyle had asked for the password. Dewey tried naming several candies. Then he tried naming some plants. All the while he was getting angry. He would never have been in this position if it weren't for Malcolm constantly showing off.

"Malcolm is a royal pain in the butt."

"Close enough," the gargoyle said as it moved aside.

"Should I have said arse?" Dewey asked, and the gargoyle nodded.

The boy stepped on the magical escalator and rode up to the Headmaster's office. He knocked on the door and heard a surprised voice tell him to come in.

"How did you get past the gargoyle?"

"I expressed my true feelings about Malcolm."

Snape nodded. "I suppose it was an obvious password. I will try to be more creative in the future."

"My mom won't let me use words like that," Dewey explained.

Snape gestured toward a chair, and Dewey sat down. He rubbed his forehead as though trying to get rid of a headache. "Someone has a problem that he has given me to deal with. I don't think I need to tell you his name. To make matters worse, I have been directed to talk to you about the matter, at the suggestion of your aunt." He leaned forward. "It should interest you to know that your aunt first suggested Malcolm and was rudely criticized. Despite her effort to help, she is now lower in his favor than she was. Can you explain why Someone would be angry about Malcolm?"

Severus smiled as Dewey's frown increased. He would let the boy think on it for a while. When Dewey started shaking his head, Severus told him why. "It seems that Malcolm, who is still fifteen, tried to kill . . . a few people . . . with a hidden bomb. It was only David Winter's quick reactions that alerted the, um, someone, to the danger. He escaped unharmed."

"What?" Dewey was almost shouting. "That's impossible. I was there when Malcolm took that stupid potion. I watched him change. There's no way he could still be fifteen . . . Did you say David Winter warned him?"

The headmaster smiled. "You didn't know that he was a Death Eater. He received his Dark Mark only two days before the Ministry fell. He helped organize the attack at the Weasley wedding, the one that almost resulted in the capture of a certain rude boy who would have been in his last year in Gryffindor had he returned to school."

"That's impossible."

"Two impossible things?" Snape asked. "Please do tell me how these two things, which did happen, could not possibly have taken place."

"I was with David Winter the entire time from Anthony's birthday party until the Death Eaters attacked his house."

"Really?"

"Really. He told me he was plan B. He had his men set up portkeys, in case things went wrong. He also told me he expected the attack because he had been betrayed."

Snape was staring intently at him. "How can you be sure it was the real David Winter?"

Dewey sat back. He didn't try to look away.

"When I thought I was talking to the real David Winter, after I thought he had survived, he told me that they had used the Cruciatus Curse on him, and that he had suffered some memory loss. If he was really a Death Eater, why would he make up a lie like that? To me? You just proved that SOMEONE considers me to be loyal."

"He has made a very good point, Severus," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore said from behind him.

"And a very annoying one," Snape admitted. "I like treason when it is reason with a capital T. This has the markings of a double-cross."

"Who's he double-crossing?" Dewey asked.

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished. "The conversation? We can take up the issue of David Winter at a later date. And we will need to let the members of the Order know about him."

Snape nodded and turned back to Dewey. "Where were we?"

"Aunt Narcissa wants me to do someone a favor."

"An interesting favor, but she seems to think that you are capable of it." Snape smiled. "It is desired that Draco return to this school as a student, but he is useful as a hostage if he remains at Malfoy Manor. How is this something you can help with?"

Dewey smiled, solving this problem would actually solve one of his own problems. "Nob has the ability to turn people into other people. The first time it has to be under weird circumstances but, after that, all he has to do is hug them and they change. And the spell lasts until it is specifically removed."

"STOP. How is this even possible?"

"It's something to do with the fact that Nob used to be a house elf."

Severus Snape's eye became like saucers as he thought back to the fanciful story that was presented at Nob's adoption hearing before the Wizengamut. He turned his head to the portrait behind him only to have Dumbledore confirm his fear by nodding his head. He turned back to Dewey.

Dewey smiled. "The really weird part of this is we know who Nob's real mom is. You'll never guess."

"The Whomping Willow," Snape said with extreme sarcasm.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling when he said, "It seems, Dewey, that you were wrong."

Severus Snape dropped his head into his hands and muttered a few incoherent words. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a potion bottle that strongly resembled a brandy flask, removed the cap, drank about one ounce of the liquid directly from the bottle and replaced the cap. "That is very convenient, Dewey, but Nob is missing."

"Yeah, but before he left he changed Reese into Draco and nobody's changed him back yet. And the best part about it is that Reese actually thinks he's Draco."

The headmaster smiled. "That is the first piece of good news I've had in a while. And where is Reese?"

"At Malfoy Manor?"

"But . . . it's only a matter of time before he's discovered. Draco Malfoy has the Dark Mark."

"No, he doesn't. He ran away to, uh, go to the beach, and Reese took his place when the Aurors started asking questions. Reese has the Dark Mark."

There was an extended silence as Snape digested everything he had been told and developed the courage to ask his next question.

"Then where is Draco?"

"In the owlery." Dewey paused to make sure there was no sudden outburst. "Nob likes Draco and one time Draco was . . . well . . . He turned Draco into Malcolm and he's been hiding out as an owl."

"Merlin's beard," Severus Snape muttered. "And he is Malcolm at fifteen?"

"Uhhhh," Dewey replied as he understood the point the Headmaster was trying to make.

"Why don't you fetch him and bring him to me."

Dewey excused himself. Minutes later, he was walking up one flight of stairs after another. When he reached the owlery, he looked around for the familiar tawny owl.

"Guess what?"

The owl flew down and transformed into Malcolm. "You're going to change me back?" Draco asked.

Dewey shook his head. "Professor Snape is. Right after you explain how and why you tried to blow up You-Know-Who."

"I what? NO! Reese didn't do anything that stupid?"

Dewey shook his head again. "No, he didn't." He pointed at Draco. "Malcolm did."

"You must be joking."

"C'mon. Snape'll explain it to you."

A dazed Draco transformed back into an owl and rested on Dewey's arm to be carried to the Headmaster's office. He ruffled his feathers in approval at the password.


Piama was smiling. "This was a wonderful idea. Francis. Coming back here to live."

Francis agreed. "And I even have a job lined up. It won't be much, but we'll be able to live here."

"No more magic?"

"Except for the neighbors. But it'll be a great job. I'm perfect for it." Francis smiled. "At least I will be once I learn where everything is."

Piama kissed. "My wonderful tour consultant."

"Should Timmy leave the room?" the house elf asked.


Professor Snape did explain everything to Draco. He also asked Draco's opinion because, as Malcolm, he would give a much more reasoned, if not reasonable answer. Draco was more than willing to cooperate as it meant he would finally have the spell cancelled. His answer, however, was that he had no idea what was going on. Professor Snape cancelled the spell anyway.

"I even forgive you for murdering Professor Dumbledore," Draco said magnanimously.

"Stuff it, Draco. I had to. Even you know that."

"Right. And how do we get Reese away from the Manor so that we can trade places."

Snape grinned. "First, show me the Dark Mark on your arm."

Draco frowned. "That means . . ."

"What that means, Draco, is that you will be following in the grand tradition of your extended family. You will pretend to be someone else. And in marvelous irony, the someone you are going to pretend to be is you. You must insist you are you at all times."

Draco paused. "You're enjoying this. Aren't you?"

"Immensely."

"Should I tell him the rest?" Dewey asked.

"Why Not?"

"The rest of what?" Draco asked.

"About Malcolm and Nob."

"I read the Daily Prophet. And I was at the Weasley wedding," Draco explained. "I saw Malcolm and Nob."

"No, you didn't."

"Dewey, I watched Malcolm dance with his girlfriend. I watched them kiss. And I watched them, you and Nob disappear via portkey." He paused as Dewey was smiling. "Who were they?"

"Who are they?" the headmaster corrected. "They are here at the school until we find the real Malcolm. Do you have any more questions?"

"Yeah. Are we the good guys or the bad guys in all of this?"

"No."


"Thanks, Timmy," Francis said as they suddenly appeared in London in the alley next to a deserted department store. "Go back home. I'll call Piama if I need help."

He walked out of the alley, turned left and crossed the street. He entered the building and found the office of the Worldwide Travel Agency, LTD. With confidence he walked in and approached the secretary. He told her his name and that he was scheduled for an interview. That was the truth. Hopefully, by the time he returned home he would have been telling the truth to Piama that he already had the job.

"I don't believe this," someone yelled from one of the offices, followed by several words that were not suitable for print. The woman stormed out of the office, her footsteps echoing through the hallway. Everyone was well aware she was coming before they even saw her.

"Did you know about this?" A tall brown haired woman asked the secretary.

The secretary adjusted her glasses to look at the paper she was being handed. "I knew they were nice, if you know what I mean. But nothing like this. What can we do? Everything's already arranged."

"They did this deliberately." With practiced effort the woman screamed the words without actually increasing her volume.

"Can I help?" Francis smelled opportunity.

The woman looked at the secretary. The secretary explained that he was the Yank that called. Used to manage a tourist trap in the States. The woman smiled.

"This is the deal. Two of my best people decided to elope. But before they did they organized a bus tour that ends of sending all the tourists to France. The problem is this. I've got the bookings all paid for, the passage all paid for, and the tourists were never got. You want a job. You take the tour bus, fill it up and deliver it to Dover next Tuesday."

Francis smiled. "At this point, do they have to be paying customers? And if so, how much?"

The woman smiled at him. "You're not gay, are you?"

"I'm Married." Francis paused, then added. "HER name is Piama. We just moved to an old family house in Ottery St. Catchpool with Timmy." He paused again. His nervousness was beginning to show. Francis held his hand out just above the knee. "He's this big already."

The woman smiled. "Is your name Ben or Michael?"

"It's Francis."

"You're hired. Follow me to my office, I'll give you the stats. I'll also tell you the bottom line. Go to the depot. You'll meet the bus driver there. If you meet the bottom line, you're hired permanently. If you meet expectations," the woman was laughing in her eyes, "you can have your choice of the available offices."


Jared and Simon were not surprised when Dewey walked up to them and directed them into a nearby storage room. The fact that the storage room was empty did not seem to bother anyone. Dewey pointed to the young blond man.

"This is your cousin, Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Malcolm and he's Nob."

"Why am I always Malcolm?" Jared asked.

"You look like Malcolm," Simon explained.

"But we're twins."

"You act like Malcolm," Draco told him. "He complains all the time about every little thing."

"Yeah," Dewey added helpfully, "and Draco is also your best friend."

"Pleased to meet you," Jared said.

"My pleasure," Draco drawled, "but I have to let you know that I am not really me. I am only pretending to be me." He turned to Dewey. "Snape was right. This is a lot of fun."

"I'll ask," Simon said helpfully. "Who are you really?"

"I'm your brother. The one you don't like."

"I don't like any of my brothers," Jared complained.

"You like me," Simon said.

"But you're my me brother, not my Malcolm brother."

"Yes, I am." Simon turned to Draco. "You're right. This is fun."

"Do I like him?" Jared asked Dewey as he pointed at Simon.

"No, but he likes you, at least he did until the two of you became twins."

"And which brother is my cousin?"

"Reese. You haven't met him."

"Will I meet him?"

"With luck, no."

Jared was surprised as both Dewey and Draco spoke those words together.

"And why do I have to know this?"

Dewey took a deep breath. "You do know that the Carrows are Death Eaters. Well, they also know that Draco is really Reese pretending to be Draco. But they will think that Draco really is Reese and that he looks like Draco. Do you understand?"

Simon raised his hand. "Where is Reese?"

Dewey hesitated. "He's taking Draco's place. He's at Draco's house."

"Do I want to know why?"

Dewey turned to Jared. "Look, I know it sounds stupid, but all you have to do is treat Draco as though he . . . as if . . . treat him as though you're pretending to like him."

"But I already treat everyone else like that."

Draco smiled. "Then you've had plenty of practice."

Jared tried to get the picture straight. "So, You're you, pretending to be my brother who's pretending to be you?"

"Not exactly. I actually think I'm me."

"Okaaay, and Reese thinks he's you, and so does everyone else?"

"Right on your first guess."

"And I'm pretending to be Malcolm, who really does like you but is only pretending to like you because you're supposed to be someone he really doesn't like?"

Dewey smiled. "I think he's getting the hang of it."

"What if I screw up?" Jared asked.

"You won't," Simon assured him. "I have faith in you."

"But . . . look, I don't know what I'm doing half the time. It's going to happen. I just . . . wanted to know."

"If you do something wrong," Draco assured him, "simply make some comment about Gabrielle. Everyone knows that you're hopelessly in love with her. You'll get laughed at, but you won't give yourself away."

"Great. Just get everyone to laugh at me."

"They do it all the time, anyway," Dewey assured him.

Jared decided they were all wrong. This wasn't fun. On the other hand, the advice proved useful.

It was Transfiguration, two weeks to the day. Professor McGonagall was trying to explain the differences between turning an inanimate object into an animate one as opposed to the other way around. Because it was convenient to have a former fourth year student in your first year class, she called on Malcolm to aid her in an example of advanced Transfiguration. Jared knew his wand couldn't perform that type of spell.

"Malcolm?" Professor McGonagall called out a second time. "Are you paying attention?"

"What? Oh. Sorry. It's just that Gabrielle said I would look better with longer hair. What do you think?"

"I think you mother had the right idea when she insisted that the two of you attend different schools. If you could take out your wand, please."

"Wand?" Jared started feeling through his pockets as though he'd forgotten.

"Why don't we discuss this in my office? After dinner."

Jared did not need to feign being upset. He hadn't wanted a detention, either.


Jared knocked on the door to Professor McGonagall's office. He was told to enter, and he did, closing the door behind him. The professor was seated behind her desk, reviewing some papers. She sat them down as she looked up at her guest.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Tea?"

"It's an English drink. You might have heard of it."

"No? I mean, yes, but why are you asking me if I want tea?"

"I find it helps me relax. And it helps Malcolm to relax but he refuses to admit it."

"Oh, right. I do. Refuse that is."

"You're very good, you know. Almost believable. Except that I talked to Malcolm after his transformation." McGonagall handed Jared a cup and told him to sit down. She poured a cup for herself. "Why are you here, and, to state the question as clearly as possible, what has happened to Malcolm . . . this time?"

"I'm his replacement until they find him."

"Is Malcolm lost?"

Jared bit his lower lip. "More like misplaced."

McGonagall nodded. It was going to be a long school year, but at least it would be interesting. "I assume Nob is misplaced as well?" Jared nodded. "Then I suppose I will have to make excuses for both of you." She paused in thought. "In view of the unique connection between you and your brother, you will be his personal tutor. That will satisfy almost everyone. And I will be the one to decide what the two of you will be doing during the tutoring sessions."

"Yes, Professor. Excuse me, Professor. Why is Malcolm so important?"

"The Dark Lord is convinced that Malcolm is loyal to him. I'm not sure why, but it does give us a possible advantage. And to be honest, we don't have too many advantages at this point. If Malcolm is missing, HE will become suspicious, especially considering who his relatives are. Do you see?" Jared nodded. "I assume Dewey has discovered his brother's secret?"

Jared nodded again. He half expected the professor to say that was another advantage, but she was frowning. He guessed that since Dewey knew how to go to another dimension, she suspected it was only a matter of time until others learned as well. If he could read minds, he would have found out that he was correct. McGonagall was already considering the catastrophe it would be if Voldemort managed to obtain such an ability.

"Malcolm, I need to ask you certain questions. Please be completely honest. It is important that I know as much about the current situation as possible. About who I can trust and who I can't."

And it began. Jared risked trusting this woman, simply because she found him out and helped him to keep his secret. He started at the beginning, when his family moved to the old house, the discovery of the book, gaining the Sight. He jumped forward to Ginny's sudden appearance and, a few days later, that of Dewey and David Winter.

McGonagall smiled when he mentioned being able to see the ghosts and assured him, when he related a particular incident, that she was the one who taught Dennis Creevey that particular spell. He would not be in trouble because of it. Jared's favorite moment in the telling was when he reached the end. Not because he was finished, but because of how Professor McGonagall laughed when she heard about Draco Malfoy's identity problem.


Francis was reeling. Here it was, London, the Second day of September, and he needed to find forty people. Forty people willing to spend money. He walked past the empty department store again to the garage on the far side. A man was standing just inside.

"You the dupe," the man said. "I'm your driver, Colin Creevey."

Francis introduced himself. "I know a boy by that name. He goes to school with my brother."

Michael smiled as he found they had something in common. His brother was always talking about his kids but never really saying anything. He knew the boys went to some fancy school in Scotland, but that was all. And that was another reason to like this young man.

"You're talking about my nephew." Colin told him. "We've got time. Let me show you around. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

As Colin asked the question, a man came running out of the alley, two other men close on his heels. The first impression was that the two men were chasing the first man. But all three looked scared. The two men were following.

Francis wasn't blind to what was going on. He even knew where he was. And he had a good guess as to why the men were running. Without thinking, he pointed into the garage. Surprise did not overcome fear, and the three ran into the garage. Colin, not sure of what was going on, opened a door to the waiting room, closing it after the men entered.

On cue, four men and two women suddenly emerged from the same alley. All of them were trying to act natural. Francis took a deep breath and walked toward them. He began pointing. "One ducked into the building across the street there. You must have seen him. One tried to run into our garage, he ran down the street into the store next to us. And the third, I don't know. He disappeared."

"You know who we are?" the tallest man asked, as though size gave him authority.

"You're Malcolm's brother?" a woman asked.

"Guilty as charged. Sorry I can't help more. Malcolm got all the talent."

"They won't get away," the woman assured him as she sent two of the men to the store and the other man and woman across the street. "And they're harmless criminals, more scared of their own shadows."

As she and the tall man headed back to the alley, she told him, "There's a squib who knows how to be useful. If only those others would learn their place."