A/N: Again I want to thank everyone for reading and I do appreciate the feedback.
In response to Kelly, who thinks Malcolm is out of character, I think his friendship with Draco is a natural, considering his family background. Good and Evil can be relative terms.
As for explaining Dewey's appearance at the school, I plan on doing that at the end of Malcolm's second year. Also, it adds to the humor that I can have him appear at unexpected times.
Ariana asked why Malcolm gets sick on a broom. This relates to the end of season episode when the family went to the waterpark. Malcolm was wearing something. You might remember that episode. Reese was trying to impress some girls, and Malcolm came up behind him and grabbed either side of his bathing suit. . ."
And Ozma mentioned HLB and Raven Dancer who read the completed version I posted to our group website before I started posting it. Since then I have been 'tweaking' it. I wonder if they would recognize parts of it?
Lastly to Nell, I missed that episode, and I have to wait for the reruns. I finally figured out who that lady was who stole the parakeet.
Chapter 10: Detentions come in Different Flavors
"Its really easy, EJ," Malcolm explained to his friend, "It's a magical variation of darts."
"I'm familiar with darts," EJ said, "How does it work?"
Malcolm smiled as he explained, "I've fireproofed that 'dartboard' and I've also put a charm on it. You shoot a fire starting spell at the board, and whatever part you hit glows for a couple of seconds. The scoring is just like in a regular game of darts."
Malcolm aimed his wand, and shouted his spell.
"Owwww," someone screamed.
"Is aim important?" EJ asked.
Remus Lupin was the most popular teacher in the school, at least with the Gryffindor's. Malcolm enjoyed the class as well. The only part he didn't like was when the Defense Professor asked to speak with him after class.
"Malcolm, I have the pleasure of having you for detention for the next week, but I don't know why. Could you explain it?"
"Excuse me, Sir, can I get away with just answering yes? I'd like to leave it at that."
Remus laughed as he eyed the young boy. "Why don't I explain it to you, then? You ran away from home to go to school. It isn't that common an event, although we have had a few students do the opposite. I was curious how you found out about the school."
Malcolm looked up and sighed, "It started when the Weasley twins lost their tickets to the Hogwarts Express, and my brother found them."
"Ah, the twins. They get their hand into everything if they can. Thank You, Malcolm, that was all I wanted to know."
Malcolm started to leave, when Lupin called him back, "About detention, I will be busy during the next week, so I would like to make a deal with you. I want you to go to the library tomorrow. Since it is the start of the weekend, I will let you choose the time. You will find five books on reserve for you. You will read each book, and write a report on it. That should be easy enough."
"Yes, Sir. Thank You, Sir," Malcolm muttered.
"You forgot to add 'It won't happen again, Sir.'" Remus said with a laugh. "My point is, Malcolm, You can read the books whenever you want. You can do them all tomorrow, if you've a mind to, and be free for the entire week."
A smile crept onto the young boy's lips and stayed there.
Malcolm walked into the library right after breakfast, and was shown the shelf, where the five books were. None of them were very big, either. He picked a book at random, and read the title. "Muggles, Magic and Mayhem." Malcolm sat down with this book, and read a series of short stories, all true, about how muggles have reacted when they came in contact with wizards and magic.
[Do you know what this book is about? It's about me, and all the things that could have happened to me. Then again, it could be about Reese, and all the things that did happen to him. The only bad thing is, it reads like Readers Digest.]
In two hours he was done, and his report was written. He picked up the second book and began reading. It was late when Malcolm left the library, with five reports, and a week of free nights. The best thing of all was that tonight was Hallowe'en, and he would begin his week of freedom with a feast.
He was on his way back, when he ran into a dog. He fell over, and landed on the dog, which turned into a thin, scraggly man with long hair and yellow teeth. "This is not my day," the man cursed, as he looked at Malcolm. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, and sighed in relief when the boy shook his head no.
"Let me guess," Malcolm said, picking himself up, "You're that escaped criminal everyone is talking about. Are you really a murderer or was that an accident?"
Sirius Black stared at the boy in disbelief. By his accent, he was obviously an American. Only an American would ask if it was an accident. "I doubt you'll believe this, " he said, "but I was framed, and I'm chasing the real killer." He stared in disbelief, again, as the boy looked disappointed. "I'm sorry," he added, "not everyone is a mass murderer. Excuse me, but I have to go. This is a bit much, and . . ."
"I know," said Malcolm, in a sarcastic voice, "don't tell anyone or you'll hunt me down and cut my throat."
"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, "I didn't say anything about hunting you down. Why should I do that?"
"Because I told them about you"
"But you haven't said anything yet. And besides, I expect you to."
"Why," asked Malcolm, "If I was an escaped criminal, the last thing I would want is people saying they saw me, unless they really didn't, but that's getting off the subject."
"Look, kid . . ." Sirius said.
"Malcolm."
"OK. Malcolm. I'm Sirius."
"Serious as in you really mean it?"
"NO, Sirius as in the dog star. It's my name, you little twerp. If you want to tell anyone about me, go ahead. I don't care. Just don't bother me with you stupid comments."
[I guess he must be innocent. Nobody guilty would spend so much time complaining.]
"Where are you hiding, I can sneak food out to you, too."
"Too?" Sirius asked.
"It means in addition, also, as well as," Malcolm answered.
"I know what it means, you little . . . imp," Sirius said with half a smile, "who else are you sneaking food to?"
"Oh, that would be Buckbeak. He's a deranged hippogryph who attacks people at random. He also loves cranberry muffins." Malcolm gave Sirius a smile to show that this type of thing was perfectly normal.
[That's my best smile. It drives most of my teachers up the wall.]
Sirius gave the same smile back to Malcolm, and said, "There is a spot you can leave things for me. Do you know about the Whomping Willow?"
"Hi Malcolm," Ginny called, "I haven't seen you all day. Did anything happen?"
"Nothing much," Malcolm answered, "Lupin let me do all of my detention today, so I've been in the library."
"What will you do with all that time?" Ginny asked with amusement.
"I don't know. What do you do around here at nights?"
"Nothing, Malcolm. Nothing ever happens around here."
"I'll think of something," Malcolm said, as he began to hide food in his pockets.
Ginny leaned over and asked in a whisper, "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Malcolm said, as he picked up a couple of muffins, and added them to his stash. Ginny shook her head in amusement, as he left the Great Hall.
Malcolm left the school and headed down to Hagrid's Hut. He walked to the spot Sirius told him about, and hid the food. Then he walked to the corral behind the hut, where Buckbeak was tied. He untied the hippogryph who flapped his wings and began flying around overhead. Malcolm grabbed the wheelbarrow and shovel, and spent the next half hour cleaning out the corral. He tossed the contents onto the compost pile, and returned the wheelbarrow and shovel to their proper places. Without saying a word, he walked back to the corral, and retied Buckbeak, handing him a muffin. Buckbeak eyed the boy, who grinned and pulled out a second muffin. "This is because I'm late," he said.
The hippogryph bowed to Malcolm, and took one of the muffins. Throwing it into its mouth, it took the other muffin, and bowed again. In the shadows, a large black dog watched the scene in disbelief. The dog was willing to bet that Malcolm was not even normal for an American.
All at once, noise came from the school, and two adults came running out. The dog quickly disappeared as Malcolm was spotted by Hagrid and Argus Filch.
"What are you doing out, boy?" Filch asked, in a hopeful voice. The hope was that he would have a reason to punish the boy or, better yet, expel him.
"My detention, sir," Malcolm answered, "Hagrid gave me the job of cleaning out the corral. I was running late today."
"Drat," Filch said, and turned away in disgust.
"Did yer see anything unusual, Malcolm?" Hagrid asked.
[Is that a loaded question, or what? I'm at Hogwarts. I wouldn't know unusual, if it wore a name tag.]
"No, Sir. Nothing more unusual than normal."
"Well, then, best yer go back inside," Hagrid said, dismissing the boy.
"Hagrid, are you daft, man," Argus Filch said, "We have an escaped madman running around out here. He's already attacked the Fat Lady, who's hiding somewhere on the upper floors. And you're letting the boy walk all the way back without an escort?"
"That's Malcolm," Hagrid said, in explanation.
"Oh. Sorry, Hagrid," Filch said, after a short pause. "Well, off now, boy. Get back inside."
[I should be insulted, but I'm not. Both of them get really confused when they talk with me for any length of time.]
Malcolm walked back inside to find everyone gathering in the Great Hall, for an indoor camp out. Sleeping bags were placed and all the students were picking spots for sleeping. Malcolm grabbed a sleeping bag, and looked around. Draco waved him over, and he dragged his bag over to the Slytherin boy.
"Did you hear what happened?" Draco asked, ignoring the stares of his house mates.
"Let's see, an escaped madman tried to break into Gryffindor," Malcolm said, then asked, "Is this the one after Scarface?"
"Who?" asked Goyle.
"Potter," Draco answered, with a sigh of exasperation. "Scarface Harry Potter. Malcolm says it makes him sound like a gangster."
"A gangster?" asked Goyle.
Draco just shook his head, then said, "You're safer over here with us, Malcolm. In case he get into the Hall, he'll head right for that corner, where Potter is."
Malcolm got in his bag when the prefects began calling lights out, and listened to the various comments other students whispered.. He tried to sleep, when he remembered the one question he should have asked Sirius: Who was the real killer?
The next morning, Draco and several Slytherins ushered Malcolm into a classroom. "We have a plan for the Quidditch Game coming up," Draco said, "and we wanted to know if you were interested."
Malcolm smiled and said, "I'm all ears."
"You know how Potter reacts when dementors are around," Draco said, taking the lead. "We know how to let them onto the grounds. What do you think of a couple of them showing up at the Quidditch Pitch during the game?"
"How?" Malcolm asked, "Most of you are on the team, and you'll be playing."
"That's been taken care of," Marcus Flint said, with a grin. "Our seeker still doesn't have the full use of his arm. We'll be trading our spot with Hufflepuff. And if you tell . . ."
"I know," said Malcolm, in a bored voice, "You'll hunt me down and cut my throat."
"NO," Flint said, "We'll tell everybody that you were in on the plan, but chickened out. You have some gross ideas."
"So, Malcolm," Draco asked, "What do you think?"
Malcolm was taken back by the suggestion. Then he noticed Draco's smile. It was the same one he had on the train, when the dementor had shown up.
[This is creepy. Draco's telling me, so I can figure a way out for him. Wish me luck.]
"I don't like it," Malcolm said, "What good does it do you? I mean . . .
[I have no idea what I mean. I need to make up something. What would Francis do?]
"No, Malcolm," Francis told his five-year-old brother, "Don't run away, you'll miss the explosion."
"But we'll get caught," the little boy pleaded.
Francis knelt down in front of his brother and looked him straight in the eye. "Look, Malcolm, you can always run away, but then you never get to see the results of your efforts. And after you're punished, you can talk about it all you want. And you don't have to hide, either."
"Yeah," said the five-year-old, who turned around in time to watch the garage door explode.
"That was an awful big explosion," the young boy said, as the pieces of the garage door flew past them into the street.
"You see, Malcolm. This is why we didn't use our garage."
[Thanks, Francis.]
". . . where's the fun in it? First of all, dementors are dangerous. What if they got loose. Can any of you control them?" Malcolm watched as nobody raised their hands, although a couple of Slytherins glared at him. "That isn't important, though. What is important is that nobody dares say anything, because you might be found out. I don't know about you but, to me, that defeats the whole point of doing something."
Malcolm smiled as he warmed into his little speech. Even the Slytherins were curious. "Why don't you do this," Malcolm suggested, "Dress up like dementors and get Potter's attention. That should do the trick."
"But we'll get caught, and get detention," Goyle complained.
"Exactly," said Malcolm, "and you'll have to tell everyone how you got detention. With your plan, you can't tell anyone, or you'll be expelled."
"I like it," said Draco, "Potter's reaction will only last one minute, but we can tell people about it for weeks. I'm up for detention. Who's with me?"
Malcolm was made an honorary Slytherin for his efforts.
It took a few days, but Malcolm finally began to worry about what he had done. He read Stevie's letter again before he finally sat down and wrote a letter, that began, "Dear Mom, I did something stupid . . ."
[I hope I'm right about doing something stupid. If I'm wrong, then I am doing something stupid.]
"What did you call my brother?" Reese demanded.
"Nothing," the younger boy said in his best please don't hit me voice.
"You said my brother was a nutcase," Reese informed the boy, with a smile.
"But he is a nutcase. You told us he was in the loony bin."
Reese paused as he thought about it. "You're right," he said, with a laugh. "I must look stupid for yelling at you like that." Then he hit the boy, and dropped him to the ground.
"Why did you do that?" said the boy with the bleeding nose.
"For making me look stupid," Reese yelled, as he walked away.
Francis walked off the drill field, and picked up the phone. "What is it, Mom?"
"Francis, What did you tell you brother?" Lois yelled from the other end of the phone.
"Mom, calm down. What are we talking about."
"Malcolm. He's gotten himself involved with some hooligans at his school. He told me that he gave them your advice."
Francis began to think furiously. If Malcolm said something, it means he wrote it down. That meant that the 'you didn't hear it properly' excuse would not work. "Mom, he didn't ask me for any advice, it must have been something I said before I came here, hundreds of miles from the warm and loving family that should be caring and nurturing me. You can't hold me responsible for that."
"Francis, he said you gave him good advice, that actually helped."
"Ohhh, that advice?" Francis said, as though he suddenly remembered.
"And that advice was?" Lois demanded.
"I have no idea, Mom. What are we talking about?"
"Francis," Lois screamed, "sometimes you are totally useless." Then she hung up.
Francis looked worried. Mom usually wasn't this upset about anything. Then he gazed out the window at the cadets marching around the muddy field. "Mom, it can't be that bad," he said into the phone. Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, he said to the Commandant, "It's going to be a while, Sir."
Malcolm looked out the window at the storm clouds rolling in. Another perfect day to stay indoors. EJ walked up to him and asked, "Are you going to the Quidditch Match today?"
Malcolm looked at his friend in disbelief. "After everything I've done on a broom, do you think I could stand to watch people flying all over the place? And in this weather?"
"You could where that nose plug thing your mom sent. It helps with your flying."
"EJ, everybody in class thinks I'm a dork for wearing it."
"But it does help."
There was a knock on the door to the boys dorm, and Amber stuck her head in. "Are you going to the match, Malcolm?"
"No, Amber, but thanks for asking."
As Amber closed the door, she called out, "It's OK. He's not going."
The two headed down for lunch, and Malcolm was forced to reassure several people that he was not going. His reputation on a broom had made a lot of people wary.
[It wasn't that bad. I mean, after that first lesson I wouldn't eat before class.]
As Malcolm was leaving, he heard Draco call him. "You are coming to the game, aren't you? You can sit with us if you want."
"He is going to wear that nose thing, isn't he?" Goyle asked nervously.
"I'm not going," Malcolm said, "but I thought you were going to be doing something. What happened?"
"The weather," Draco said, "It will be too much fun watching them try to play in the rain. We'll use you idea another day."
The Slytherins headed off, leaving Malcolm to himself.
"Harry's fine," Ron told everybody when he returned to the Gryffindor common room.
"That was a bad fall," Wood said, "but we have a problem. Tell him, Colin."
Colin Creevey looked nervous at being the center of attention, but tried to speak boldly, "It was the Slytherins, they let the dementors onto the school grounds. And that first year, Malcolm was involved." He related what had been told to him by a friend in another house, who had overheard parts of the plan. Malcolm's friendship with a certain Slytherin was enough to convict him. The discussion turned on what to do about the young American.
"Where is Malcolm?" Hermione asked.
"He left, right after he heard about Harry," she was told.
"He probably went running to the Slytherins," Ron yelled. "I'll kill him if I get my hands on him."
"You'll have to stand in line," Oliver Wood said
"Shouldn't we talk to Malcolm, first?" Ginny asked, trying to be a voice of reason, "He might be able to explain..."
She was shouted down by almost everyone, when the room went silent. One by one the students looked up at the figure standing by the doorway.
"I apologize if I am interrupting," Albus Dumbledore said, "but I was hoping that Malcolm was here." He looked around the room, and continued. "Let me say first of all that the dementors came to the match today uninvited." He looked sternly over the crowd of students, as the silence deepened.
"I don't know if you are aware, but there was a 'prank' planned, if I may use that word, to invite some of the dementors onto the school grounds. Under the circumstances, this would have been foolhardy, and quite deadly for the students involved. These students were not Gryffindors, of course, but it was a Gryffindor who showed these students their folly, and talked them out of it."
Dumbledore ignored the looks of disbelief he was receiving, but smiled slightly as he continued. "I think Malcolm has proven himself to be a true Gryffindor. It takes a great deal of courage in the first place to remain friends with someone that those around you dislike. But he went further. He talked his friend out of a rash course of action, for no other reason than that it was the right thing to do. I do not wish to think of what would have happened if he had not intervened."
"Furthermore, I would not have known about his actions at all, if he had not written his mother for assurance that he did do the right thing, and if she had not forwarded his letter to me. He did a very brave thing, in my opinion, and he did it without looking for praise."
The Headmaster began to leave, then turned back and said, "I am awarding Gryffindor fifty points for what happened. Please let Malcolm know."
"How does he do that?" Fred asked in the silence that followed.
"Dumbledore?" asked George.
"No. Malcolm. Two minutes ago we were ready to kill him. Now he's a hero."
"Not really, Fred, those were Slytherins he saved, not real people."