"It's obviously fake, Reese. Just throw it away." Malcolm looked at his older brother in disgust.
"No," Reese insisted, "These are real tickets, all we have to do is find the right platform."
Malcolm stopped his brother. "Reese, just look around you, There's Platform Nine, There's Platform Ten, There isn't enough room for a Platform Nine and 3/4."
Reese wouldn't buy it. "It's around here somewhere. These British always do things different. They don't even speak English the right way."
Malcolm shook his head, turned and took the pen from my hand.
[I don't even know why I try. Here we are in London, and he's criticizing the language. Now he wants to find some imaginary train.]
When Malcolm returned the pen, Reese was still complaining. "Like that guy at the hotel, he kept asking if I needed the lift. I told him, 'It's called an elevator, you jerk'. But this is the type of thing they do all the time. They always mess things up." He began to ask people where the Platform was. Most people ignored him, or insulted him. "Did you hear that, he doesn't know where it is, and he calls me stupid."
"Excuse me," an elderly lady said, "Which platform are you looking for?"
Reese showed her the tickets he found. She looked at them, while a boy, the same age as Reese, looked over the two brothers.
"You're Yanks, aren't you?"
"Of course they are Neville," said his grandmother, "you heard their accents."
"Hey," said Reese, "You people are the ones with the funny accents."
Malcolm blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry ma'am. My brother Reese is..."
"Typically American?" Gran finished, giving the younger brother a friendly smile.
Reese started to say something but Malcolm kicked him. As Reese hopped around Malcolm asked, "You were saying there is a platform with that number."
Neville grinned and Gran also gave an amused smile. "You are a first year?" she asked.
"No, Ma'am," Malcolm responded, "I'm going into sixth grade, uh, my sixth year."
Neville spoke up at that, "Gran's right, you are a first year. Our upper schools are seven years, so that a first year would be the same as your sixth grade."
'Cool,' Malcolm thought, nodding his head.
"That's dumb," Reese snickered
Gran pursed her lips, saying "It's one of those old habits, I'm afraid, something akin to automatically insulting anything someone says."
Reese laughed, "Now that is really stupid. Who'd want to get into a habit like that?"
[I love this lady. She has Reese's number down to ten decimal places. I only wish Reese was smart enough to understand what she's doing.]
"Oh, where is your luggage," Gran asked suddenly.
"Our mom takes care of that," Reese said without thinking.
"Your mother is a wise woman."
"Whatever. So where's this platform?"
Gran gave the tickets back to the two brothers and pointed, "You just walk through that wall. Neville, show them."
"Sure, Gran, Bye" Neville said, giving his grandmother a kiss. He grabbed his trunk and walked though to Platform Nine3/4. Both boys grew wide-eyed. Reese recovered first, telling Malcolm to follow. Malcolm pulled him to the side.
"Reese, that kid just walked into a steel wall."
"Yeah, and if we follow him, we get to see the train. This has got to be something good."
Malcolm's common sense forced itself outward. "If we actually do this and get on the wrong train, Mom will kill us."
Reese smiled down on his little brother. Gesturing with his finger, he said, "But not until she gets her hands on us." With that, he jumped through the wall.
[That was an amazing statement, coming from Reese. I'm trying, but I can't find a single flaw in his logic.]
Malcolm looked at Gran and said, "Thank you. And I'm Malcolm."
Gran took his hand and introduced herself, adding, "It was very nice meeting you, Malcolm, and I wouldn't mind meeting you again, without your brother." They both grinned at that last part.
Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Malcolm walked into the wall.
"It's over to the right a little more," Gran said, giving the boy some tissues for his bloody nose. Tilting his head back to help stop the bleeding, she guided him through the hidden opening.
Reese was standing there, with his insane giggle. "You know what his name is? Neville Longbottom. What a loser name." Reese turned around and saw the train, The Hogwarts Express. "This is going to be so cool," he said, and ran off.
Neville looked at Malcolm and the wad of tissue stuck up his nose. "Missed, didn't you. Don't tell anyone but I missed my first time, too."
Malcolm nodded, but didn't really feel any better. "I want to apologize about my brother."
Neville waved him off, "You don't have to apologize, I know some fellows he would do splendidly with. Now, let's get aboard."
The two walked toward the train. In the distance, Reese could be heard yelling, "This is so cool," and "What are you looking at?"
"Malcolm, how is it that you were accepted to Hogwarts? I mean, you are an American after all."
"To where?"
Neville stopped, forcing the younger boy to stop as well. "Listen to me very carefully, Malcolm. Did you ever receive a letter saying you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"
Malcolm laughed nervously at the other boy's serious attitude. "No, I've never even heard of such a place."
"Then where did you and your brother get those tickets?"
"Reese found them. I knew they were a joke, but he insisted it was real."
Neville pointed to the sign near them and said, "Your brother was right. Malcolm, can you do magic?"
[Is it me, or is this a really strange conversation? I don't know what is going on, but if anyone says Reese is right about something, and then proves it, that IS strange. Now he wants to know if I can do magic. Of course I can do magic.]
"Sure, I've got a few card tricks I'm really good at."
Neville gave him an amused smile. "Is your brother also as good at magic?"
"Reese can't even shuffle a deck of cards."
"Malcolm, I have to tell you, you are not supposed to be here. You could get into a lot of trouble."
Up by the train, Reese could be heard saying, "Hey, move it. I'm walking here."
Neville gave an annoyed look toward the train. Malcolm watched his gaze, and said, "I guess we should just leave, then."
Neville gave him a smile that was a perfect imitation of George Weasley, "I wouldn't dream of it. There are some people I would like your brother to meet."
Malcolm smiled back. He did not know George Weasley, but he knew exactly what Neville meant. Reese had been in overdrive ever since he realized that anyone he insulted, he would probably never see again anyway. The only thing confusing him was what all of this had to do with card tricks.
Neville, for his part, actually liked Malcolm. The eleven-year-old was smart, very smart, but never tried to rub anyone's face into it, unlike a fellow student during her first year. It was a marvel that he and his brother found the tickets, and then stumbled onto the right person to help them. What Neville wanted, most of all, was to see Malcolm's face when he finally realized that magic was real.
The two boys boarded the train. Finding an empty compartment, they settled down. "I'm not very good at magic," Neville admitted, in carefully chosen words, "But I'm following my family traditions by going to the school of magic." He felt bad about teasing Malcolm, but there was an underlying rush of energy that he felt. The two discussed what classes he took and Neville marveled again at how his new friend continually failed to accept magic.
The door opened and Malfoy appeared, his two cronies on either side. "Oh, look, its little Long-in-the- bottom. Who's your friend? Not some stinking Mudblood, I hope."
In a quivering voice, Neville said, "He's no mudblood. I can tell you that." He tried to sound brave, but had clearly failed.
"Hey," Malcolm called out, "This isn't a party. Make like a bunch of trees, and leave."
[That really wasn't a smart thing to say since I don't have any place to run. I guess I'll have just enough time to say a quick prayer before I die.]
Reese made a sudden appearance. "Are you the guy picking on my brother?" he snarled.
"Is Neville your brother?" Malfoy asked, smirking. "If not, then I haven't gotten around to him yet."
Reese leaned into Draco, and poked his finger into Malfoy's chest, "You'll never get around to it if you know what's good for you."
Draco's smirk became wider. "Permit me to introduce myself, Draco Malfoy. And these are Crabbe and Goyle."
Reese nodded appreciatively, "Bodyguards. That shows style."
"Thank you," said Draco, "If you like, I can show you some really fun people to annoy." The four of them left.
"Are those the guys you wanted Reese to meet," Malcolm asked?
"Yes," said Neville, "but it didn't turn out exactly as I had hoped."
A third voice asked, "What didn't turn out." Both boys looked up to see Ginny Weasley. Neville made introductions, as Ginny sat down. She told them, "Harry and Ron are with Hermione, making plans again. They threw me out so they could talk in private." When she asked about the new boy hanging around with Malfoy, Neville told her all he knew. "It was probably my brothers," Ginny said, "They always lose their tickets. I think this is the first time somebody found them, though." She gave Malcolm a warm smile and Neville a wink to show she understood.
Neville felt he had to add, "Not only that, if you have a deck of cards, He'll show you how good he is at magic." Ginny nodded, with the famous Weasley smile coming to her lips.
"I don't have any cards, Malcolm, but I do have a magic wand. Would you like to try it?"
Malcolm became instantly interested. "How does it work?"
Ginny took a small piece of paper and set it on the seat across from her. "This is the first, uh, trick we learn, it's called the floating feather."
Malcolm couldn't help himself, "That isn't a feather."
Ginny giggled at his poor joke, "That's all right, this really isn't a trick." Ginny waved her wand, saying, "Wingardium Leviosa." As she moved the wand, the paper rose and fell, until she let it fall back to its original position. "Here, Give it a try," Ginny said handing over her wand.
With a big grin, Malcolm shouted the magic words and waved the wand. Nothing happened.
"You're saying the words wrong," Ginny explained, "put your emphasis on the second syllable."
"And your wand movement is wrong, too," added Neville. "You need to be firm but restrained in your forward motion than pull back with a bit of a flourish." When Ginny raised her eyebrow, Neville smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Those who can't do, teach," he said.
Malcolm tried a couple more times. When Ginny cast the spell again, he watched very closely. He asked to try again. He concentrated on doing everything right, and IT WORKED.
"This is great," said Malcolm, "How are you doing this?"
"I...I...I'm not," stammered a very surprised Ginny, "you are."
A feeling of disbelief arose inside Malcolm. He tugged the wand one way to watch the paper follow his lead. He tugged the other way, and the paper followed. Neville watched his eyes as Malcolm realized that he was doing magic. Not Illusions, like card tricks and disappearing coins. Real Magic. The paper finally floated back to the seat.
Ginny carefully took her wand out of the dazed boy's hand. Remembering the story Harry had told them, about when he first met Hagrid, she leaned over and whispered, "You're a wizard, Malcolm."
Neville stuck his hand out, and said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."
Malcolm shook his hand, and the motion had a calming effect on him. "I'm a wizard," he said, as though trying to convince himself. "I'm a wizard," he said again, as though trying to figure out what the words meant. The third time he said those words with the understanding that something truly wonderful had happened to him, "I'm a wizard!"
[This is great. I wonder if they can show me how to turn Reese into a frog.]