Malcolm stopped singing shortly after entering the Great Hall. It wasn't so much everyone telling him to be quiet, as it was the Hall itself. Candles floated in midair, ghosts were flying everywhere, and the ceiling was a perfect reflection of the night sky. Malcolm stared at everything, especially the ceiling. He started looking around the tables as Professor Flitwick began to call names. Draco saw him and returned a vigorous wave. Malcolm then spotted the twins and Neville, who also responded. Ginny gave him a weak wave, glancing at Malfoy. Malcolm's gaze slid back to the ceiling.
"Malcolm," Professor Flitwick called, "if you are finished staring at everything, you can try the Sorting Hat on. I won't be calling your name again. The embarrassed boy took his eyes off the ceiling, and walked over to sit on the stool. The Hat was placed on his head, and he heard a voice speak.
"You're an unusual case. A last minute addition. Well, let us see what you have in you. Hard working Hufflepuff won't do, but you would be good in Ravenclaw. You are smart enough, and you have plenty of ambition as well. Slytherin would be a good choice. You also have a friend there as well. No, it would be best we put you in Gryffindor. You will cause less trouble there."
"Wait a minute," Malcolm said, "first you made that crack about Hard Working Hufflepuff, but what's this about causing less trouble."
"GRYFFINDOR," the Hat called out, adding in a low voice, "you have potential, boy. You only have to realize it."
Professor Flitwick lifted the Hat of his head, and Malcolm dutifully headed toward the cheering Gryffindors. Glancing over, he noticed the Slytherins were cheering with equal intensity. He made a mental note to ask Draco about that when he had the chance.
As he neared the table, a second-year student stood up, and a camera flashed in his face. Half blinded, he felt a hand grab his, and a voice said, "Welcome to Gryffindor, Malcolm. I'm Colin Creevey, Gryffindor's unofficial photographer. I'm taking pictures of all the first-years who make it into our house." Helping Malcolm to sit down, he continued, "You are in the best house, of course. We have Harry Potter. We've also won the house cup two years running. And now, we have the first American ever to attend Hogwarts."
"GRYFFINDOR," the Hat shouted, and Colin left to assault the newcomer.
"I'm still blind," muttered Malcolm, as he tried to blink away the red and blue spots in front of him.
"It will clear up shortly," said a solemn voice, "just be careful. I think he's going to be taking more pictures of us."
"Great," Malcolm said. "Wait, you sound familiar. Weren't we in the same boat?"
"Yes," said the boy solemnly. "You wondered how he knew your name was Malcolm."
"Yeah, my mom told him. And you are?"
"Call me Ishmael," the solemn boy said.
"Whale, Moby I will, and Moby I won't," Malcolm said with a grin.
"Excuse me?" the boy asked in a solemn tone.
"Uh," said Malcolm, "you said, 'call me Ishmael,' which is the first line of Moby Dick, a book by Herman Melville. I was making a joke by saying 'MOBY' instead of 'maybe.' And since Moby Dick is a whale that is why I said 'Whale' instead of 'well.' I thought it would be funny."
"Oh, I see," the boy uttered solemnly, "It is what you would call, 'a muggle thing.'"
Malcolm stared at the boy. "Please tell me that you aren't serious."
The boy laughed solemnly. "Malcolm, if you are going to make it here, you have to learn about the English sense of humor. It tends to be dry, to contrast with the weather."
"Thanks for telling me that," Malcolm replied with a laugh of his own, "So, what is your name?"
"Ishmael," said the boy in solemn embarrassment, "my mother really liked that book"
"Okaaay," said Malcolm, thinking. "What's your middle name?"
"Ipswich. It's my mother's maiden name," he solemnly noted.
"Why don't you do what my friend did?" Malcolm suggested, "He had a name he didn't like, so he used initials."
"Yes, brilliant idea," the boy said in a solemnly sarcastical tone, "I will tell everyone to call me 'I, I.' It will fit perfectly with my last name, Captain."
Malcolm looked at him in horror. Controlling an urge to laugh, Malcolm added, "They don't have to be your initials. Just pick a couple that you like, and introduce yourself that way."
The boy thought solemnly for a bit, and added, "I like the idea. I can even forget about being solemn all the time, just to keep people from laughing at me. You are a good friend to have, Malcolm."
The boys paused as the headmaster called for their attention. To their disgust, they learned that the dementors would be guarding the school. Their disgust increased as Dumbledore described the nature of these creatures. The Professor went on to introduce two new teachers, a man named Lupin, and Hagrid, the giant that had picked Malcolm up and carried him to a boat.
"No" groaned the boy with solemn implications, "that is going to be a terrible class."
"What do you mean?" asked Malcolm.
"Remember when you bought your school supplies?"
"I haven't bought any supplies. I was a last minute addition to the enrollment list."
The boy gave him a wide smile, and solemnly refused to say anything else. Nor was he expected to. Food suddenly appeared in front of them, and conversation was lost while everyone stuffed themselves. Malcolm tried a little bit of everything, trying to ignore the occasional camera flashes.
"Is it like this every day?" Malcolm had to ask.
"Three times a day," a soft voice said. Malcolm looked up, across the table. A blue-eyed girl with shoulder length brown hair eyed him just as Colin's camera flashed again.
"Good shot, Malcolm," Colin called out, "And now one more of you, Amber."
The brown haired girl looked at Malcolm with a pleading look.
"Colin," he called out, remembering Ginny's warning, "I've got one piece left. Would you like some toffee? My mom made it."
"That was something," Fred said to Malcolm as they walked with the first-years to the Gryffindor common room.
"I'll say," George added, "I think you're the first person ever to get detention at the welcoming feast."
"You say that like it's a good thing," Malcolm said with a sigh. "At this rate, I'll have to go to summer school to finish all my detentions."
"My mother," the solemn boy said, "always told me to be proud of my accomplishments."
"There's your problem, lack of pride, " Malcolm replied testily. "My mother always tells me to do what she says."
"Fred Weasley," said George, introducing himself to the solemn boy.
"E.J.," the boy replied, without any sign of being solemn. He then added, "Weren't you George earlier today?"
"I better warn you, Fred," George said, "this is one of the smart ones."
"Quiet," said Fred to all the first-years, "Lord Percy is about to speak."
"Is he royal?" asked Malcolm.
"No," said Fred, "But the pain he causes is."
"Coming through, Coming through," the head boy called out, leading the first years through the crowd of students. "The new password is Fortuna Major."
As he said those words, the portrait of the Fat Lady opened up to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor. Entering the common room, Malcolm began staring again.
"I feel like I'm in the middle of a Gothic movie," he told EJ. "I keep waiting for Christopher Lee to appear."
"You are wrong," EJ told him, "You should be thinking of Camelot."
"The movie?" asked Malcolm. "So I should expect Richard Harris instead. I couldn't picture him in this place, unless he had a beard as long as Dumbledore's."
Both boys laughed at the thought as they followed Percy to their new dormitory, their home at school for the next seven years.
As they lay in their beds, trying to sleep, Malcolm asked his friend, "Hagrid told me he was taking me to Diagon Alley, tomorrow morning. What's it like?"
"I've only been there once," EJ said, "My parents are muggles, just as yours are. It was like walking through a Renaissance Fair designed by Monty Python.
"It should be interesting." Malcolm lay in bed thinking, then asked, "How did you decide I was your friend."
"Why didn't you laugh at my name. Isn't that what you usually do. Malcolm, when did you decide that I was your friend."
[He's right. I never thought to make fun of his name. I must be losing my touch.]
"I should apologize," Malcolm said, surprising himself, "for that remark about lack of pride."
"Don't worry about it. You were upset, and it WAS funny."
EJ looked over to see Malcolm's reaction but there wasn't any. His eyes were closed and he was lightly snoring. EJ closed his eyes and joined his friend in sleep.
Malcolm got up and dressed for his first day of school. Since he was a first-year, he had a half day in the afternoon, leaving him plenty of time to do his shopping. He hurried down to breakfast, to find Hagrid talking to some third year students. He also saw that Hagrid was wearing a moleskin overcoat, and swinging a dead polecat. Then Hagrid turned around, and saw him.
"Malcolm, are yer ready? Or do yer need to eat, first?"
"I'm not hungry," Malcolm said, eyeing the dead polecat.
Hagrid gave him a pat on the head as a form of greeting, and laughed as Malcolm staggered from the blow. "We'll be off, then," he said, leading Malcolm to his hut.
As they walked out of the Great Hall, Peeves flew up to Malcolm. He said, "Excuse Me," then reached into Malcolm's pocket and pulled out a wand. "Thank You," he said, and flew off.
"The thievin' imp stole yer wand," Hagrid said, fuming, I'll have to tell Dumbledore abou' this."
"No he didn't," Malcolm explained, "It was his wand. He lent it to me."
"Are yer friends with Peeves," Hagrid asked in surprise.
"No, my brother is."
"Not tha' lout, Reese. I don't believe it."
"No, my other brother, Dewey."
Hagrid stared at Malcolm, his look begging an explanation. All Malcolm could do was shrug his shoulders. Hagrid led the boy to his hut, muttering his confusion.
"We'll be using a portkey," Hagrid explained. "This one's set to take us to Diagon Alley when we both touch it, and return us to my hut when we touch it again, do yer understand?"
"Yes, sir," Malcolm said, "but I'm curious, how does it work?"
"Why, it works by magic, lad," Hagrid told him. Then he eyed Malcolm suspiciously, and asked, "How did yer think it worked?"
"By magic," the boy answered weakly.
"Then yer would have been righ', lad," the giant said brightly. "Always trust yer instincts, I always say."
"Excuse me, sir," Malcolm said, in a second effort, "What kind of magic do they use to make the portkey work?"
"Have no idea," Hagrid answered with a grin, "I'm professor for Care of Magical Creatures. Try asking Professor Flitwick. He teaches Charms."
Malcolm shook his head in despair. Hagrid laughed at that. "Lighten up, lad. I was only having fun with yer. I know yer smart, but yer can't learn everything in one day. Today, yer can learn wha' i's like to use a portkey. Tomorrow, we'll start teachin' yer to make one." With that he held out his hand to Malcolm, and they shook.
Hagrid dropped the polecat into a corral which held a hippogriff. Malcolm stood and stared at the animal while Hagrid went to get the portkey. The hippogriff looked at Malcolm and nodded to him. Malcolm politely nodded back, as Hagrid came out of his hut.
"Righ', lad," he said, "we're off to Diagon Alley." With that, he held out a small frying pan, which Malcolm hesitantly grabbed hold of. Then they both disappeared.