Chapter 25: Extra Stuff
Author's note: It's over. On April 14, 2002, I posted the first chapter of Hogwarts in the Middle. On February 25, 2008, I will have posted the last chapter of this story. No more Malcolm and Harry. I can only hope that everyone enjoyed the six year ride. This final chapter is not really part of the story. It contains the bibliography, deleted scenes that never quite made it into the final story, and supposedly clever comments by yours truly. Well, forget about the clever comments.
And by the way, in case anyone was confused by Sherlock Holmes comment that Dewey's assassin was nice enough to warn him, it was the duck. The firework that went off before the missile hit Dewey's broom was a duck. Get it? DUCK? Never mind.
A final thank you to everyone who has been reading this story, and to my reviewers: I am grateful for your remarks and corrections. I have tried to respond to your reviews, although it has rarely been in a timely fashion. If I did not, it was an oversight, and I do apologize, although not as much as I should for throwing Space Vikings into a Harry Potter story.
[On the other hand, he got away with it.
Deleted Scene One: Moody in Grimmauld Place
originally, this was supposed to be a flashback of B-W-L Dewey when Moody was mentioned. Moody never got mentioned.
Alastor Moody was in no good humor. They were children. The Diggory boy was legally an adult, but he was the only one. He took stock of all those he managed to bring to the safe house. Cho Chang looked to be competent. As did the Hufflepuff, Michael Corner. And they were the oldest of the group. The others, though, needed work.
He looked at the youngest three. And they were all from Gryffindor. Dewey was the youngest of them, and the reason for what Alastor did. IF he was the one that damned prophecy meant. But this one did the one thing no other candidate did. He survived.
And then there was his brother. Malcolm had a look in his eyes that said he was dangerous. And the way he stepped forward to help during the escape said he had the smarts to back it up. Moody liked his look. He had the same look in his own eye.
The last Gryffindor was the most unlikely one. He was the smallest of the lot. He could easily laugh but tended to be silent. Moody knew more about him than he cared. Orphaned at the age of five. Living in the streets of London any way he could. Learned about magic on his own. (Like Moody would believe that.) Made his way onto the Hogwarts Express by killing a pureblood his age and stealing his wand and robes, and identity.
They were the youngest and most dangerous, the most unstable, and the most likely to survive.
"Listen up," Moody said to everyone in the room. "I'm going to teach you everything I know about what we're up against. And then we're going to go after a few items that helps You-Know-Who keep going after being killed fifty times. That's why you're here. That's the only reason you're here. You may die because of what I have you do but . . . you're going to die anyway if you don't do anything."
"You know how to kill the bastard?" Diggory asked.
Moody smiled. He liked the anger in the boy's voice. "I do." He held up a locket. "This is a Horcrux. It was stolen from the Dark Lord by our host's late brother. I have it because I promised to destroy it." Moody explained what a Horcrux was, how it was made, and how many there were. He then showed how to destroy such a thing. He cast the hellfire spell. Their host, a thin black haired man named Black, was casting the countercurse almost at once.. As it was, the table the locket was on was completely destroyed. As the students watched, the locket, having survived the fire intact, suddenly seemed to melt into the floor where it had landed. "And now there's six left. Kill them and we can kill him for once and all. Any questions?"
Malcolm raised his hand. "When can we start?"
Deleted Scene Two: Holmes and Watson
A cute scene but it didn't fit in.
"Holmes?" Watson asked as he opened the door to see his old friend standing there.
"Surprised, Watson? It is your wife's birthday. You did invite me."
"I always invite you, but you never accept."
Holmes walked in as Watson stepped aside. "I have been thinking. Do you remember the first time our young musician friend stopped by?"
Watson led the way to the sitting room where his wife was already in her place by the fire. Holmes walked up and wished her a happy 79th birthday. He sat down in the offered chair and thanked Watson for the glass of wine he was handed. Once Watson was seated as well, he repeated the question. "Do you remember when we first met Dewey?"
"And the second," Watson said with mirth. His wife, Mary, smiled. She remembered her husband telling her that story. "Has he come by early again?"
"No, he will be coming here next month, at his usual time. Even though I've been forced to give up the violin because of my age." Holmes gave his old friend the familiar smile. Something was afoot. "When he comes back, however, I will be returning with him to his world. I thought you might like to join me." He turned to Mrs. Watson. "And you as well, my good lady."
"At our age, Mister Holmes. I would love to, but I cannot leave this chair without great effort. Neither I nor my husband are as young as we used to be."
"Too true, for myself as well. But we are going to a world of magic." He looked pointedly at Watson while he pulled three vials from his pocket. "And of magic potions."
Watson's eyes bulged. "Nott's youth elixir? I mentioned it, Mary. You said you wished we had some . . ."
"I am assured," Holmes said, "That the contents of each vial has enough potion to remove sixty years of your life. I thought it only logical to live a new life in a new place."
Mary Watson laughed. "And do you really want me to come? For all that you've associated with my husband, I've not met you a handful of times."
"I do, madam. I do want you to come. Because if you agree, your husband will come." Emotion was in his voice for the first time that Watson could remember. "Even though I will be young again, I do not want to lose an old friend."
"Mary?" Watson asked.
"John, he's asking me if I want to be nineteen again with a rakish young man of sixteen as my beau. For that alone, I would consider it."
"You have a month," Holmes told them. "And if you decide yes but need more time to settle affairs, that isn't a problem."
As he left, Holmes had to smile to himself. The touch of emotion did the trick. That he was telling the truth also helped. Watson would be useful in a new world. He was always an excellent sounding board.
Alternate Scene One: The Feast
The original party at the restaurant was not a family affair. It was rewritten after I realized that Hal was the luckiest man in the universe.
Simon and Jared were sitting at one end of the long table across from Malcolm and Nob. Mallory sat next to Jared and across from Draco who sat between Ginny and Nob. Ginny and Harry sat on the other side of Ginny, while Helen Grace and her Aunt, Belinda Spiderwick, sat across from them. On the other side of Malcolm, sat Dewey, Holmes and Mister and Missus Watson. Across from them sat Erik and Dan. Next to Dan sat a black haired boy by the name of Jeffrey Jones. (He had been cornered at the celebration feast and forced to explain himself. In exchange for being unharmed, he was forced to agree to join the party. He was explaining to Dan how he traveled through time "to help keep history on the right track". Erik and Dewey were trying to talk Sherlock Holmes into joining their new interdimensional band, as yet unnamed. Holmes suggested whimsically that they travel to other dimensions and stock their band with fellow Deweys and Eriks. He then noticed their expressions and admitted to himself that even people as brilliant as he do make mistakes at times.
The Watsons had begun a conversation with people at the next table
Simon was grinning while Jared was scowling. "He just upset after our trip to Florida."
"I'm tired of adventures," Jared muttered. "It was supposed to be a vacation."
"And?" Malcolm asked.
"We got letters," Simon told him. "Our world has a Hogwarts, too."
"Any Dark Lord?"
"No, but I asked. The Charms Professor is one Professor Tom Riddle."
GREAT! He has a world where he can be happy.
"Cool," Nob said.
"But," Jared insisted. "We're not magical. Why us?"
"You could be a natural Suppressant," Anthony said as he served desserts to table. "It explains why you never did any magic. And why magic always seems to find you."
"What is this?" Draco asked. "It looks delicious and strange."
"I have no idea," Anthony said, "but the people in the kitchen offered Reese a job. Millicent said he should say yes."
[Cool. That means we won't have to deal with either of them.
"He plays Me?" Harry was asking. "In movies."
"And he says you're popular. They call it Pottermania. Books, Movies, Clothes, Accessories, you name it."
Helen Grace laughed. "I know how you feel. In my world, they wrote books about my family. At least I had the foresight to tell them to give us a different last name. That's why I told you my name was Grace."
"One book or movie isn't the same as seven," Harry noted.
"And I am thankful," Helen told him as her aunt put a hand on her arm. "Aunt Belinda?"
Aunt Belinda smiled. "I wanted to remind our young hero that fame is nothing, money is nothing. Family is everything."
Ginny hugged Harry. "He knows that already." She looked up. "What happened to Ron and Hermione?"
Aunt Belinda laughed. "The two newlyweds found out there's an inn attached. And that they have room service."
Harry looked surprised. "But it's a party. Why would they want to be alone in a room?" As Harry's face turned red, Nob said, "I know why." And because he told the truth, everyone believed him.
An explanation: I was sitting around trying to think of an interesting crossover with the Harry Potter series. Something unusual. I wrote two first chapters. One from Harry's point of view and one from the protagonist's. The only problem was that I had no story to go with it. This is another Might-Have-Been story
Harry Potter and the (Untitled)
Version One
You may have heard of me, whats read about my friend Tom Sawyer, but this ain't the story that you might expect. Mister Twain wrote a right good yarn about my own trip down the Mississippi with my friend Jim but this ain't that story neither. This is what happened when I runned off agin after the Widow Douglas tried to take me back to Hannibal.
I'll tell you first off this story ain't the entire truth though there be plenty of truth in it. I just don't see no harm in stretchin' a few bits to make the storytellin' easier. Ain't no outright lyin', mind you. Just makin' the story more interestin' than it would be with straight tellin'.
I'll start with my name. Huck Finn. That's me. I ain't got those polished manners of them folks back east and I don't want any. If I did, I'd never had this story to tell.
I was first thinkin' when I decided to run off to find my old raft and set out alone. Jim was free and had enough money to buy his family their freedom. That's something I agree with. Ain't right to steal from anybody, even if it's your own kin you're stealin'. Even when they should be no reason to need to steal 'em anyway. I ain't no abolitionist or nothin' but Jim's my friend, and I can't take to keepin' people like they was furniture or somethin'. Jim's free and he deserves to be free. And his family too. And I know I'll go to hell for sayin' those things, but if that's the price a' havin' Jim as my friend, then I'll pay it.
I guess that's why I'm here. I won't grow up right nohow, and I'll take what come by me.
So I get on my raft an' I'm off before anyone can stop me. I knew they'll come after me or send word down river but I figure even a few days more of freedom is worth it before I have to go back learnin' letters and such. They'd of caught me too, if I hadn't pulled that stranger out of the water.
It was that very first night. I'd been swimmin' to cool of from the heat, and I lay on my back on the raft wearin' nuthin' but my skin. The full moon was shinin' an' the breeze was blowin' across the river. And me, I had my feet rested in the water as I floated along.
On nights like that, noise can travel forever up and down the river. That's why I heard the shouts downstream even though it were more than a mile away. I could see the crowd with their torches as they came to the edge of the river. There was a sudden hush and a splash. Then the crowd cheered. I guessed some scalawag got his just desserts and was floatin' to a new home. The crowd hung around for a bit but by the time I came close they was already headin' back to home. I didn't mind. I didn't want to explain what I was doin' anyhow.
It was because of the full moon that I spotted that sack just floating along not twenty feet ahead the raft. I don't know how but it was still thrashing and I figures the man inside hadn't died yet. Then the pain hit me. Not like I hit my hand or somethin' but I felt real bad just sittin' there.
So I jumped in. I was already naked so I didn't have to worry about my clothes. I swam to that sack as fast as I could, and grabbed that sack and pulled it back to the raft. It were close though. I had to grab the raft with one hand and hold onto the sack. Then I had to climb up. I ain't never figured out how I pulled that sack out of the water but I managed. There was a man in it but he weren't movin' anymore by then. But he weren't dead either. He just drank too much water.
I pushed on him the way Judge Thatcher did once when a friend a' his near drowned. An' it weren't more 'an two minutes the man come coughin' up half the river. He stopped coughin' but then he didn't move again. I thought he died but he were jest sleepin'. I shucked him out of his clothes and set 'em so they could dry. He didn't have much. Just a small box I couldn't open no matter how hard I pulled on the lid. And he had a fine polished stick and nothin' else. Then I had the thought that he had a good idea about restin'. I steered the raft to the other shore from where he came and tied it off. I slept til the mornin' sun woke me.
The man slept for three days. We was still tied up for the night when he woke. He had a fever an' all but he asked first off for his things. I gave him the small box he had in his pocket. I told him I had tried but it wouldn't open no matter how I tried, but he opened it with no problem. He took out an even smaller bottle and opened it up. I'd swear he was fine and dandy before he finished drinkin' what was in that bottle. He reached for his clothes and dressed, then he asked about food. I had some vittles left from what I grabbed before I ran and he didn't seem to care about eatin' raw vegetables. He washed it down with most of the water jug. Then he looked at me and spoke in the fanciest accent I ever heard.
"Thank you, kind lad. I must presume that you are my rescuer, that you are the reason this foolish man is still breathing."
I says, "I was the one what pulled you outa the river, if that's what you mean."
"I do indeed, kind lad."
"What'd you get caught doin' anyway."
That man gave me a smile that was all misery and says that if he tol' me I would hate him. I says back to him, "I don't even know you, Mister. Ain't no reason to hate you. Unless you kilt someone. An' I reckon if you did that, they'd of kilt you 'stead o' throwin' you in the river."
The man nodded agin. "I took no one's life, although I did save a life. Those kind people you rescued me from did not appreciate the way I saved that life."
I shook my head. I tol' him it din't make no sense, and he gives me that same smile again.
"It does if you know that I am a wizard," says the man. He sees me stare and says, "a magician, a conjurer, a sorcerer. Do you understand?"
"Did you make a deal with the devil," I asked. I knowed Jim used to do magic with his seances but he didn't do no devil work."
The man lets out a sigh and says no, then laughs when I let out a sigh. I was just so happy he wasn't one of them bad people. He held out his hand to me. "Phineas Longbottom, Wizard first class, at your service, young gentleman."
"Heck, I ain't no gentleman. I'm just Huck. Huck Finn."
Phineas gave me a funny look. "A man shows he is a gentleman by his actions, not his words."
"Still ain't no gentleman," I says. "I stole this raft an' stole that food you ate. I even stole that jug you drank out of."
Phineas bowed to me like I was some fancy nobleman. "I stand corrected. Thank you, Huck, for my life."
I bowed right back at him. "It was my pleasure."
I liked Phineas right off. I've had my share of hucksters and con men, and I did learn somethin' about 'em. But Phineas had this sad look about him. I kinda thought he wouldn't o' cared if I didn't save him. He weren't no slouch about the river neither. He helped with the raft and he could cook some, too.
Fog lit up on the river the first night after he woke up and he aimed us to shore like an expert. By the time the fog reached us, he had a fire goin' and stew in a pot.
"Powerful strange fog," I says at the night dragged on. "Don't seem the weather for it."
"Really?" says he. "What kind of fog do you usually have."
"It's usually light stuff, unless it's powerful hot. It can get thick fast and easy. But, well, you know."
Phineas nodded his head to say he did know. "This is not a night for fog. And not a night for sailing. Who knows where we might end up."
I looked at him strange. I only knowed him this one day but he seemed easy to know. The way he said that last line I became afraid. I knew he didn't mean ending up on some rocks or running into a steamboat. He says he meant that I could walk away from this campfire and end up in Saint Louis even though that's hundreds of miles away upriver. I know he didn't mean to give me a fright but when the fire started to die I wouldn't go fetchin' more wood. Then I got more scairt. Neither would he.
"Phineas,"I says as the fire got low. "Did that happen to you?"
He didn't even ask what I was talkin' about. He knew. And he turns to me and says, "Yes. It happens all the time."
It were like he was telling a ghost story, like George's dad did one night during a thunderstorm. But it weren't like that at all, cause Phineas was tellin me the truth. He asks me first of if I ever heard of the Flying Dutchman or the Wanderin' Jew. I tol' him no, and he says, "they're each a person who carried a curse. It was said the Wandering Jew was cursed for refusing to accept Jesus as his God but I think that is a lie. I have met many others who have refused and they were not cursed."
"But the Bible says he's God. The Widow Douglas tol' me that."
"But other people are told other things." Phineas put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. It made me feel I could trust him. "That, however, is not the point. The point is that the Wandering Jew was a real person, with a real curse. He was condemned to travel the world until someone took his burden from him. And someone did. That man then had to do the same thing. I never knew who he was, but the man who took his burden from him earned the name of the Flying Dutchman. He would sail his ship into the fog and never be seen again. He would appear and disappear many times. One day, he met me. I was a young wizard anxious about the New World and I joined a crew to sail to this new land and explore it. I fell overboard in a storm and was rescued . . . by the Dutchman. I sailed with him and learned his tale, and in gratitude I took his burden from him. When the fog comes, I can walk to a different place, or if I'm on a boat, I can sail into the fog and come out on a different river, or lake or ocean."
My eyes lit up. If we went to a different river the widow Douglas would never find me, and take me back to dress up and learn book readin' and schoolin'.
"We could lit out on the raft now. Then I'd never have to go back."
My face was all smiles but Phineas looked like he was gonna cry. He says it's a curse and that I don't understand. And I says it don't sound like no curse to me. So I get up and head for the raft. I figured I'd only go a little ways, just to see if that magic trick would work.
Phineas grabs my arm and calls me a fool. He yells at me that it's somethin' he don't want. Then I says it don't sound like no curse to me. It sounds like fun and if he don't want it, I'll take it.
Phineas lets go of a sudden and stands straight up. He looks angry and sad at the same time. He called me a fool again, then he called me another name that I didn't pay no mind to, and then he told me that I had his gift, all cause I knew what it was and said I take it. He still called it a curse so I figure I better act a bit scared, but he don't fall for it. He says he knows I want to jump right on that raft and see where I'll end up.
I didn't feel no different than I did but Phineas insisted that things were different for me now. He says that I need to know some more about what happens and if I'm so sure fire to go then best he go with me. I quickly felt my way to the raft and he followed, and we cast off into that fog.
Version Two
It was Wednesday night. Harry managed to get into trouble without any help from anyone else. For his punishment he had to help the Astronomy Professor. And that was the reason he was on the highest tower of the school at midnight. The Gryffindor first years were studying the moon tonight because it was full.
"Professor?" Harry interrupted.
"Mister Potter?" He did not appreciate being interrupted.
"The lake."
"You're supposed to be looking at the sky." The first years snickered at the rebuke.
"I know, Sir. I was stretching my neck (I hope that's a good enough lie) and something caught my eye. There's fog on the lake."
The Astronomy Professor looked at Harry in surprise. "This isn't the weather for fog. It's too dry." He walked over to the parapet and looked out. "That's odd."
"What's odd about fog?" a first year asked, a girl with black hair.
Happy to lecture about something, the Professor smiled. "In most cases, a fog settles. It's actually a cloud at ground level. But if you look at the lake you can see that it is rolling in. And look there. It's centered on the lake. If you observe the outline of the lake you can see that it's thickest in the middle and becomes lighter as it approaches the shore." The Professor drew his wand and waved it. "Yes, that confirms it. That fog is the result of magic. Very good, Potter. Five points for Gryffindor."
Harry's serious concern when the Professor said the fog was magic was tinged with humour. He had been given house points during detention.
"Shouldn't we tell someone?" A first year asked, a towheaded boy.
"An excellent idea, Thomas. You can run with the message. Do you know the way to the headmaster's office."
"I do," Harry volunteered.
"Good. Inform Dumbledore at once."
Harry nodded. He exited the tower and began running down the stairs. He stopped when he heard footsteps behind him. It was Thomas.
"What are you doing here?"
"Following you. He said I was to give the message." The boy looked almost embarrassed.
"You heard him tell me," Harry said with authority in his voice. The boy's face dropped. Harry had to laugh. The boy was clearly trying to get out of class. "Is the moon that boring?"
"Yeah, when you put it up against magic fog."
"Let's get going. Then maybe we'll sneak down to the lake."
Tom's face lit up. "You were thinking that, too."
Harry nodded. "It's magic fog. And the Professor didn't seem too worried."
Harry led the way until they were face to face with the gargoyle. Tom looked up in delight at seeing something knew. He felt he had to say something.
"We have an important message for Professor Dumbledore."
Harry ruffled the boy's hair to get his attention. "We have to give him the password."
"Don't bother," the Gargoyle said. "He's gone out. Do you want to leave a message?"
"It takes messages?" Tom asked in surprise.
"Um, yes," Harry said, hiding his surprise. This was something the gargoyle had never done before. "Let the headmaster know that a fog appeared on the lake . . ."
"A magic fog," Tom added.
"I'll tell it," Harry reminded him. "We'll let him know what we observed when he gets back."
Harry started to walk away, went back and grabbed Tom's shoulder and had him walk away as well.
"Sir, do we have to go back now."
"You should," Harry told him. "I think I should make a closer observation."
Tom gave Harry a smile that brought Fred and George to mind. "Then you won't be taking me back to the tower?"
"You can get back on your own."
"I don't remember the way." He kept walking with Harry.
"That's a lie and you know it."
"Well, you've got detention. You have to go back, too."
Harry shook his head as he kept walking. "I'm old enough to use my own discretion."
Tom snorted. "And I'm too young to be walking around the school by myself in the middle of the night."
They turned a corner and Harry smiled. The solution to his problem appeared. Ron and Hermione were patrolling the corridor as part of their duties as prefects.
"Harry," Ron called. "Is that class over already?"
"Not yet." He pointed at Tom. "I need someone to escort him back to the Astronomy Tower. I have to go down to the lake for the Professor."
Hermione shook her head. "Harry, you can't walk around this time of night without a reason. Do you have a written note?"
Tom snorted. Harry ignored him.
"It's important, Hermione. Look, how about this. Ron's a prefect so it'll be fine if he goes with me to the lake.
"What's with him?" Ron asked.
"Hermione can escort him back to the Tower."
Hermione shook her head. "Before I agree to anything I want to know why you have to go down to the lake."
"I'll tell her," the first year offered sweetly. Harry's thought was that the kid dyed his hair blond and changed his name from Weasley. The boy turned to Hermione. "There's a fog on the lake. A magic fog." He paused. "And we're both supposed to be in the Tower."
Harry looked at Tom. "That was a clever move. Now she won't let either of us go."
Tom looked at Harry. "I'm only eleven but I'm not stupid. If I was real smart and I heard about magic fog, I'd want to check it out."
Hermione grinned. "He knows I'm smart, Harry. I've helped him with his potions homework twice already." She began walking in the direction of the front entrance, stopped and glanced back. "Fog doesn't last forever, you know. We should hurry. Just in case."
BIBLIOGRAPHY:
BOOKS
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. JK Rowling. Scholastic Books, 2007.
The Pagan Mysteries of Halloween. Jean Markdale. Translated by Jon Graham. (U.S., 2001).
Schrodinger's Rabbits. Colin Bruce. John Henry Press. 2004.
The Spiderwick Chronicles, Vol. 1 - 5. Tony DeTerlizzi and Holly Black. Simon & Schuster. 2003 .
Arthur Spiderwick's Field Guide. Tony DeTerlizzi and Holly Black. Simon & Schuster. 2007.
Beyond the Spiderwick Chronicles. Tony DeTerlizzi and Holly Black. Simon & Schuster. 2007.
Viking Tales. Jennie Hall. Yesterday's Classics. 2005.
TELEVISION
Malcolm In The Middle, Fox, 1998 - 2005
Dinosaurs, ABC, 1991 - 1994
Voyagers, NBC, 1982 - 1983
WEB SITES
The Harry Potter Lexicon
BBC Cult: MITM
Malcolm In The Middle (At Fox dot com)
Greek/English Lexicon (Kypros dot org)
The Spiderwick Chronicles (spiderwick dot com)
DVD
Malcolm in the Middle, The Complete First Season, Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, 2002
Casablanca, Turner Entertainment, 1999
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Metro Goldwin Mayer, 2003.
The Sound Of Music
CD
B.B. King, Paying the Cost to be the Boss, Delta Entertainment, 1997
GRAPHIC NOVELS
The Sandman, Volume Four: The Season of Mist, Neil Gaiman, Vertigo, 1992
Dead Boy Detectives, Issues 1 - 4, Neil Gaiman,Vertigo, 2001
The Dead Boy Detectives, Jill Thompson, Vertigo, 2005